Alex DuValle hid in his bedroom, anxiously waiting for his parents to leave. Had Frank and Stephanie known their son had returned home, they would have been horrified. He was supposed to be at Tommy's house. Alex's parents had an active social life and they frequently packed him off to stay overnight with his best friend when they had one of their events to attend or just wanted a little "alone time." Tonight was one of the former; they were expecting to be gone until the wee small hours of the morning.

Once again, they had dispatched him to Tommy's, paying for an extra-large pizza, twelve-pack of soda and the new, much anticipated Halo 3 game for Tommy's Xbox 360 to keep the boys entertained all night. No, it wasn't because he still needed a babysitter; not at his age, they assured their son, although it was comforting to know Nick and Cora Bradley would be there "just in case."

"We're just thinking of you, Sweetheart," his mother had cooed. "We're going out to have a little fun tonight. There is no reason you can't, too. What fun would it be to mope around alone in a big, empty house while we're gone?"

'Well, I wouldn't be alone if Tommy stayed overnight with me, would I?' Alex thought wryly. 'I have an Xbox, too.'

Alex knew better than that. They wanted, needed him out of the way while they were getting ready for their 'event' and when they returned, as well. It was just easier to send him to Tommy's for the entire evening. If they had been staying home, they absolutely would have required that he be gone all night.

"He's much too young to understand," he had once overheard his beautiful, doting mother telling his father. "We need to protect him from this until he's mature enough to process it in context."

Of course, his father had been in complete agreement. They were being overprotective to a fault and Alex resented it. He wasn't a kid anymore. Besides, it was much too late; he already knew.

***

He hadn't suspected a thing in the beginning. Alex had grown up amidst the hustle and bustle of a typical suburban two-income household. His father was a successful money fund manager. His mother had been a "dancer" (she hadn't elaborated on that somewhat cryptic description) before she married Alex's father. After Alex had started school, she had taken a part-time position with a public relations firm. Stephanie DuValle didn't really need to work; her husband made a mid-six-figure income. As she had once confided to her son, she would have been "bored out of my gourd" had she remained cooped up inside their home all day. Still, she had always made time to be with her husband - and him.

A year and a half before, when Alex was still sixteen, he had gone down the street to Tommy's house for the night when his parents had requested some time alone together. He had returned later in the evening to fetch a video game he and his friend wanted to play. Ever the thoughtful son, Alex had entered the house stealthily and crept up the stairs, not wanting to disturb his folks. If truth be told, he was more than a little curious. He and Tommy had heard all kinds of stories from their friends about what grownups did alone together. Alex acknowledged the dirty little thought; he wouldn't mind seeing it for himself, just this once, to see if the stories were true.

Noises emanated from his parents' open bedroom doorway; his mother's loud, angry voice and a series of soft, whistling noises, each punctuated by a sharp slap. Were his folks actually having a fight and had sent him away so he wouldn't witness it? As he peeked around the corner of the doorway, all thoughts of Tommy and the video game left him.

Nothing he had heard from his friends had prepared him for this. His father stood naked, spread-eagled, in the center of the room, manacled at his wrists and ankles with padded leather cuffs. The cuffs, in turn, were snap-clipped to chains attached to eye bolts set in the ceiling and floor. His mother was dressed in a skintight, shiny black latex catsuit and knee-high black patent boots with towering stiletto heels. Her face was heavily made up, her hair severely styled, and she wielded a long, thin, flexible leather crop-like object. He overheard her referring to it as a "quirt". She was whipping his father's exposed butt, leaving vicious-looking red welts. Alex could tell it hurt; although his father stoically made only quiet grunts as the blows landed, his body recoiled under each impact.

At the same time, Alex's mother unleashed a string of vile, abusive taunts and invective at her prisoner, intended to belittle and humiliate him. Alex would not have believed his sweet, loving, kind-to-a-fault mother was even capable of such viciousness, much less had the inclination to do so. Time stood still. Alex had watched, astonished, wondering what his father could have possibly done to make his mother so angry at him. For that matter, under what circumstances had Alex's big, strong father come to be in this position?

Apparently satisfied with the physical punishment she had already inflicted, the demonic Stephanie tossed the quirt onto the bed, seized a huge black latex dildo (the Internet, plus stories from their friends had taught Alex and Tommy what such things were) and stepped in front of her beaten hubby. As she turned, Alex noticed the crotch area of her catsuit was fitted with a zipper, running from front to back. That zipper was open, and little Alex could see his mother's most private parts for the first time in his life. Those parts were unmistakably wet, glistening!

His mother took obvious delight in slowly inserting the huge phallus into her pussy, right before the eyes of her hapless husband, and proceeded to fuck herself with it, calling it "more of a man than you are" and labeling him a "weak, pathetic excuse for a husband and lover." She fucked herself to what appeared to be a monumental orgasm, causing her to become weak in the knees and stagger a bit, coming to rest in a seated position on her bedside table.

"I should go out and find myself a real man, a Black man with a man-sized cock," she spat. "Someone who can make me feel like a real woman, rather than wasting my time on a disgusting, bird-dicked wimp like you!"

Regaining her strength, she rose angrily to her booted feet and advanced. Alex couldn't see clearly from that angle, but she apparently grabbed his father's penis and began jerking it with her hand.

"Look at this miserable excuse for a dick," she growled. "What use is this to me? You can't even get this tiny thing in me! All it is good for is jerking off while you watch me have sex with a real man. Is that what you want, Sissy Boy? Would you like to beat your little pee-pee off while you watch a big, strong, macho stud fill me up with his twelve-inch tool, making me scream, making me moan, making me whine, making me beg him to fuck me harder? Is that what you want?

TELL ME!!!!"

Alex had been completely unaware he had his own little stiffie out of his jeans, in his hand, and was stroking it furiously. His fevered brain was fixated on the compelling, overwhelmingly erotic vision of his mother. At that moment, Alex's beaten, defeated father had repeatedly jerked against his bonds, grunted heavily and cum in his abuser's hand. Alex came in his own hand at the same instant, struggling mightily to suppress his groans and avoid discovery, even as his own legs became weak and rubbery.

When Frank's spasms ended, his dominant wife placed her hand to his face.

"Clean up this mess," she commanded, "Eat your watery piss; every drop. Then lick my hand clean!"

To Alex's continued amazement, his father hastened to obey his tormenter, laving her palm fervently. Alex, too, licked up his spunk; a first for him, just as it had been his first orgasm. He knew nothing of the phrase "tunnel vision", yet as he lapped up the thick, slightly-bitter spooge, he had eyes only for the exquisitely-beautiful, erotic siren before him.

If all of that were not enough to totally confound the boy, his mother then released his father from the chains that bound him, helped him to their bed, then lay down with him and held him tightly.

"Was it good for you, Lover?" Stephanie had cooed to him tenderly, as though the last hour had never happened.

"Oh God, yes!" Frank DuValle had gushed. "I came so hard, I saw stars. What about you, Honey?"

"I came like a runaway freight train with that dildo," his wife assured him. "I came again spontaneously when you did. This has been our best session yet. Now, let me put some ointment on your poor butt."

Alex had quietly fetched his video game and returned to Tommy's, avoiding his friend's pointed questioning: What had he been doing? Why had it taken him so long? The troubled youth couldn't share what he had seen, even with his best friend; it was too private, too personal. How could he explain what, even now, he himself couldn't believe he had seen - and done?

From that night on, Alex grew up in a hurry. He needed to know more. He got Tommy to cover for him on those special nights, while Alex sneaked home to watch, and learn, about his parents' active, unorthodox love life. He learned a whole new vocabulary: "role-playing", "hotwife", "cunnilingus and fellatio", "bondage", "domination and submission", "sadomasochism", "water sports", "frottage", "brownies and lemonade" (those last three related items were really disgusting), and others.

The games his parents played varied, as did their roles. Sometimes his father was dominant and his mother, the all-too-willing submissive, but such times were infrequent; both seemed to prefer when his mother was in charge. She could portray a dominatrix, as he had first seen her, or a prostitute, secretary, schoolteacher, nurse, and so many more, it made Alex's head spin. His father would portray whatever was appropriate for that "scene" or "session". There were "toys", too, though nothing Alex would ever have associated with 'Playtime' in the past.

Of his two parents, Alex had always been closer to his mom. Perhaps that was partly due to their uncanny physical resemblance, which others had repeatedly pointed out. They shared the same thick, pale blonde hair, sapphire eyes and small, delicate facial features, set off by those stunningly high, prominent cheekbones and full, sensual mouth. At the same time, Frank DuValle's career responsibilities left little free time for bonding with his son.

Alex loved and respected his father, yet as long as he could remember, he had felt empathy, a special affinity for his mother. She, as a mom, had always displayed unconditional love and devotion towards her only child. Alex's friends frequently reminded him he had the "hot mom" in the neighborhood. Only one had ever voiced a snide remark about her "porn star body." Once his myriad of cuts, bruises and contusions had healed, the jerk had never teased the enraged Alex again. Stephanie DuValle had always been just "Mom" to Alex. He took it as an article of faith; all boys laughed and teased with their moms, exchanged practical jokes and just hung out together whenever they could - didn't they?

After learning about his parents' secret love life and his mother's lurid role in it, Alex perceived her as much more. That first night and first experience had left an indelible imprint on the youth's psyche, forever associating his mother's image with sexual pleasure. In his eyes, she had become a truly sexual being, a goddess to be venerated - and emulated.

"Sweetie," his mother had chimed one day, playfully grabbing a handful of her son's shaggy, well-over-the-collar hair, "don't you think it's time to get that mop cut?

"Mom, I was thinking," he replied, trying to sound casual about it. "Would it be all right if I tried growing my hair out a little more? Some of the guys in school are sporting longer hair now. I've always admired the way your hair looks and wondered if it would look as good on me."

"Flatterer!" Stephanie DuValle had gushed, hugging her offspring tightly. "Baby, you know I've always encouraged you to express yourself. You're getting to be a big boy now. You'll be, what, seventeen in a couple of months? Of course we can try this! The thing is, it takes a lot of work to have long hair. If you want to do this, I'm going to insist you take care of it and keep it looking good; I'm not raising some skanky-looking punk here. I'll teach you how to do it. In the meantime, I'll put in a good word with your father about this. I'm sure he'll be fine with it."

In the ensuing months, Alex's hair had grown out thick, strong and shiny. Vitamin supplements had helped; so too had nightly brushing and regular trips to his mother's favored salon for a trim and deep conditioning. He basked in the glow of his mother's frequent compliments concerning his new style.

"If you're not careful, people will start mistaking you for my daughter," she teased with a wink.

"So, you're saying I should cut it off?" he asked apprehensively.

"NOT!" she fussed, grabbing him around the neck and massaging the top of his head vigorously with her knuckles. "I was just messin' with ya, Kid. Your hair is gorgeous! You shouldn't even think of cutting it until you are good and ready to. With that hair and your good looks, the girls at school must be stalking you."

"Mom, I'm seventeen," he countered pointedly.

"So?" she taunted smugly. "When I was your age, I was already juggling three boyfriends and flirting with the rest. Get with the program, Young Man; you have a family reputation to uphold! Maybe we just need to change your wardrobe a bit..."

Smirking, she gave him a very obvious once-over.

"... get you wearing something a little... sexier. I wonder how you would look in a skirt and heels...."

"Mom!"

Her positive reinforcement fueled his burning desire for more; to look the way she looked, feel what she felt, be what she was.

He had long since explored the deepest recesses of her walk-in closet, dresser, vanity table and night stand. He had found her special things and familiarized himself with all of it. On the evenings his parents went out, Alex had indulged his fantasies and dressed up in his mother's erotic finery. By that time, he was approximately his mother's stature, although Alex couldn't come close to matching her amazing physique; at least, not without a little help.

The Internet became Alex's friend, mentor, guide and Grand Bazaar. Online dictionaries gave him a working knowledge of words he was unfamiliar with. Search engines helped him locate sites related to the fetish-fantasy lifestyle, suppliers of exotic apparel, toys, appliances and the like. Adult-themed story sites granted him access to a wealth of fetish interests; some even his parents had yet to explore.

Through his readings and research, Alex matured far beyond his years in his understanding of human sexuality in general and Erotica in particular. Although he had always loved and respected his father, Alex's studies helped him come to understand Frank DuValle as never before. He was, after all, a man - a man with needs. Well, women had needs, too, Alex reasoned, and with the right 'persuasion', men fulfilled those needs very nicely. Alex was developing his own fantasy. He found and bookmarked the Internet sites that offered the 'little help' he would need to bring his fantasy to fruition. Everything would be in place when the time came. That time would come, he solemnly vowed. In the meantime, there was still much to do...

Money wouldn't stand in his way. Frank DuValle's business lived and died on market research. Alex proved his worth in locating necessary data, mostly via the Internet, to his much-impressed father. Frank had given him a part-time job after school and on weekends. The weekend work could even be done from the computer in his father's home office, with its VPN link to the company server. That position had been made full-time during summer vacation. Alex had saved all of that money, telling his parents he was putting it into his "college fund," even though he had yet to commit to any of the four universities that had accepted him. Still, his parents had been so impressed with his commitment to his future, they had vowed to match his savings dollar for dollar. He was committed to his future, all right, Alex surmised. This windfall would contribute greatly to it.

Alex's eighteenth birthday arrived. The actual day fell at mid-week, so his mother decided to "make a day of it" the preceding Saturday, as his father was hosting the annual company golf outing and wouldn't return until late. She had driven him to the mall, taking him first to T.G.I. Friday's for lunch. She ordered loaded potato skins, followed by Steak on a Stick for both. That was unusual for her, given her usual fitness regimen.

"We're splurging today," she explained, giving him the once-over. "You look like you could use a little meat on your bones, anyway. Have you lost weight, Baby?"

"I dunno," Alex replied warily, "maybe a little. I've been running more, using your elliptical trainer and Bowflex, too. You don't mind, do you?"

"No Sweetie, not at all," she responded, patting his hand. "In fact, I think it's really attractive on you. I'm just being a mom, that's all. What kind of mom would I be if I didn't keep an eye on my baby and what was going on in his life? It's comforting to see you are taking care of your body. So many other boys your age are content to come home from school, plunk themselves down in front of the television, eat junk food and play video games until bedtime..."

She reached over and pinched his cheek.

"I'm just glad you don't want to be a couch potato like them. You're too attractive to waste your life away as a spud stud!"

"So, what are we doing this afternoon?" Alex asked, changing the subject.

"You only turn eighteen once," his mother mused over a potato skin. "I want this to be as memorable a time for you as it is for me. After lunch, we are going to go across the parking lot into the mall. We are going to take our time, enjoy the day, and you are going to pick out a special present; something very private and personal, just between us."

After lunch, they browsed from store to store. There was the usual; jeans, athletic shoes, sweaters, new video game titles, music CD's, the latest horror/slasher DVD's (No kidding; Friday the Thirteenth, Part 47? Man, that Jason Voorhees really has 'legs' - and arms, heads, and other assorted body parts!), and so on. All of it was exactly that; the usual. He had all kinds of ideas about something "private and personal" enough to commemorate that special time and link between mother and child, but was afraid to share them. What would she think if he told her what he really wanted?

His heart had beat faster as they stopped in the MAC cosmetics store. While his mother selected foundation, powder, blush, eye makeup, lipstick and a new set of brushes "for a special event your father and I will be attending," Alex looked around, watching the associates demonstrating new 'looks' on their clients, making his heart beat faster still. It had pounded madly in his chest when his mother had stopped in front of the windows of Aldo and Wild Pair to peruse the latest shoe offerings, then again in front of Victoria's Secret and Frederick's of Hollywood. He tried to act casual, even bored, although his interest was anything but. How he wished he could confess to her, unburden his soul. That, too, was too private, too personal.

It began as a private joke, a laugh shared between them. Being a Saturday, they were hardly alone on the concourse. There was the usual hustle and bustle; throngs headed in every direction. There was also a better-than-usual turnout of mall rats, flitting aimlessly here and there or just hanging out. A number of genres and personal styles were in evidence, more than a few favoring the Goth/Punk look.
In addition to trash clothing, tattoos and extreme makeup effects, mother and son took note of the dizzying array of facial piercings; multiple ear rings and studs, eyebrows, cheeks, noses, lips, the filtrim between nose and mouth, chins, even tongues. The pair tried to be discreet as they observed each new 'look' that presented itself, but when they began envisioning various looks on each other, a fit of giggles erupted.

"Oh, that look would work so well on you," Stephanie had teased, pointing out a girl with a row of tiny studs along the outer edge of each ear, in addition to her dramatically made up eyes and lips.

"You don't think that would be too much?" Alex had teased back, brushing his hair back and fingering his own ear in mock coquettishness.

"Not at all!" his mother had dismissed. "That looks so... how do you say it, 'off the hook'! You should go for it."

"Welllll," Alex mused, pretending to consider it, "if you really think so..."

"Excellent!" his mother gushed, "but not here. No shopping-mall-boutique bimbo with a stud gun in her hand is good enough for my baby. I'm taking you to a professional. Let's go!"

She seized his hand and led him out of the mall and to her car. Alex wondered if it was all just a gag, or if his mother had taken leave of her senses. He wasn't against the idea - far from it - but this was so atypical of her usual cloyingly protective stance towards his upbringing.

A half-hour's drive took them downtown - to the Boulevard. Alex had been to the usual shopping and entertainment areas, but this area, well down the street from the usual haunts, was completely new to him. Being a Saturday afternoon, the lots were full and the streets were lined with parked cars. After cruising the neighborhood for ten minutes, a car pulled out of a metered space just ahead of them and Stephanie claimed the vacated spot for her own. It was two blocks from their destination, but the pair were content to take their time and window shop along the way.

And what shops! Each successive window yielded a new vista of fetish clothing, shoes, lingerie and accessories. His mother was in full 'tease' mode, asking "What do you think of that one?", or "Oooh, wouldn't that dress look sexy on you?", or "Wouldn't you love to have a pair of shoes like that?" He kidded along with her, trying his utmost to mask his growing excitement, not able to tell her how much he had enjoyed seeing her in such attire and yes, he would very much adore owning and wearing clothes and shoes like that.

They arrived at the door of the tattooing and piercing parlor. His mother smiled at him coyly, her eyes dancing. Was she really going to follow through with this? When she saw the questioning look in her son's eyes, Stephanie DuValle burst out in a peal of warm, melodic laughter.

"You're not gonna chicken out now, are you... Sissy?" she teased, tucking her hands into her armpits and flapping her arms. "Bwaaaaaaak, bwaak-bwaak-bwaak-bwaak, bwaaaaaaak!"

She seized his hand and led him through the door before he could respond.

Once ensconced in the chair, the piercing gun poised at his ear, the two gazed into each other's eyes and burst out giggling again, both remembering their shared amusement at the mall. The first pair of studs snapped home with more surprise than pain. From that point on, the session became a bizarre, continuing game of 'Dare'.

"I dare you to get a second pair," his mother had challenged, grinning broadly.

"Only if you do, too," Alex taunted.

For the sake of a dare, she would - and did. They goaded each other to a third pair, then a fourth. The amused technician was kept busy for a half-hour. Towards the end, Alex was adorned with two piercings in each ear lobe, a row of four along the outer edge of each ear, plus one each at the very tops of his ears. His mother had matched him piercing for piercing, not wanting to be outdone by her son in daring. She had even challenged him to a delicate, sparkling diamond-like stud in the side of his right nostril, then did the same for herself. Both were on the ragged edge of an uncontrollable fit of laughter.

"Let's do one more," she urged him, trying to stifle her mirth, "something really nasty this time. How about a ring in your lower lip?"

"Eeeewwwww, that's gross!" he exclaimed with disdain. "I can just see me accidentally hooking it with a fork while I'm eating and ripping the whole thing out. I would sooner get my tongue pierced than put a ring in my lip."

"Done!" his mother crowed triumphantly, grinning from ear to ear.

Both left with identical gold ball studs piercing their tongues, in addition to their other decorations. The ear and nasal piercings were not much of a concern, but their tongues had already begun to swell a bit. Gazing at their reflections in the first window they came to, Stephanie DuValle finally lost it. She doubled over in laughter, clutching her side desperately to stave off the ache. Alex followed suit.

"Seriously," she began, recovering her composure a bit. "I was just thinking about this the other day. I have seen so many kids your age, both girls and boys, with ear rings and other pierced body parts and wondered how it would look on you - and if you were even into it. To be honest, I thought you would look scrumptious with a pair of pierced earrings.

"Then we had so much fun with our little game at the mall, I just wanted to see how far you would go. Once I got you into that chair, I guess I just got carried away with it. Now that we've done it... well, it is attractive on you, Sweetie - in a kind of lurid, trashy way. Look, it's not something permanent, like a tattoo. You can take a piercing out and the hole will eventually close up. If you don't want to do this, it's okay. I just thought... "

"What are you trying to say, Mom?" Alex inquired.

She paused for a moment, gently stroking his cheek with the palm of her hand.

"Baby, you are growing up so fast," she mused, misty-eyed. "I'll only have you – this - for a little while longer; then I'll have to let you go. You can't possibly know how much I cherish this time with you. I've spoken with enough mothers to know what we have is the exception these days, not the rule; that makes me feel doubly-blessed.

"So, humor your old mom. Don't be ashamed to be seen with me in public, the way your friends are with their moms, and if I do something a little crazy like this from time to time, understand where it's coming from."

He hugged her tightly.

"Not so old," he disagreed, "and definitely nothing to be ashamed of. I would be seen with you anytime, anywhere, Mama.

She cupped his face with both hands, on the verge of tears.

"Baby, you have no idea how special it is to hear you say that. I think that's the first time you have ever called me 'Mama'. That may sound like such a little thing, but it's what I used to call my mother. She and I had a really close relationship, just like you and me. It's almost like I am re-living my childhood through you. No one can put a price tag on moments like this. So, will you be a dear and leave the piercings in for a while? I want to enjoy this moment as long as I can."

She wanted to enjoy it as long as she could? Mischievously, Alex turned back to the window, pulled his T-shirt out of his jeans and rubbed his taut stomach and slim, indented waistline.

"I dunno," he mused, turning to face his mother. "What do you think? Should we go back and get matching belly rings?"

"You nut!" his mother chided, taking his hand in hers. "Let's get back to the car!"

There was an arcade along the way. Alex hadn't really paid attention to it before, having been captivated by the displays in the other store windows.

"Come on, we have to do this," Stephanie chirped, dragging her son inside and straight to the Ladies Room. Bolting them securely in the last stall, she seated her son on the toilet, then straddled his lap.

For the next half-hour, the seemingly-possessed woman made up her astonished son's face, using the cosmetics she had purchased earlier at the mall. Apparently satisfied with her work, she stood, removed her styling brush from her purse, pushed him over at the waist so his hair dangled down in front of him, and brushed it out vigorously. Seizing his collar, she snapped his body upright, tossing his hair over his head. She then fluffed it out even fuller. Then, she repeated the process for her own hair.

"That will do nicely," she chirped.

"Mama, what -"

"Just trust me, okay?" she interrupted.

She packed up everything, then unbolted the door, leading her confused son out of the stall.

"Ta-da!" she announced proudly. "Welcome to 'Punk for a Day' - and you are today's guest of honor!"

Alex gaped in astonishment at his reflection in the mirror. If his mother had been going for 'punk', she had missed the mark by a country mile. The flawless complexion, Cobalt Blue shadow, ebony eyeliner heavily-mascara-ed lashes, blushing cheekbones, and glistening, ruby-red lips screamed 'porn star' instead. Actually, it did resemble the makeup worn by the girl his mother had pointed out in the mall. His heart threatened to burst from his chest.

"It's - it's..." he stammered.

"... gorgeous on you," Stephanie finished. "Don't wimp out. Let's go!"

She seized his hand and pulled him out the door before he could protest, pulling him to the instant-photo booth.

"I want to immortalize this on film, Sweetie," she insisted, "before we come to our senses and yank all these piercings out."

She seated them inside and posed him so his new piercings would be prominently displayed.

"Be sure and smile wide for the camera," she admonished as she fed coins into the slot. "Part your teeth, too. I want your tongue piercing to show."

After the impromptu 'photo shoot', his mother had pulled him out onto the sidewalk and towards the car, without benefit of re-tying his ponytail, for the whole, wide world to see. Alex was embarrassed to his very soul. At the same time, he was more thrilled than he had ever been before in his young life. His mother had insisted on taking her time, window-shopping all the way back to the car. They had gotten stares, to be sure. It took him a little while to realize; most seemed to perceive him as just another overdone, underdeveloped teen girl. He had played along with her little joke after that, trading teases about what would look good on who - not letting on that this was the best birthday present he had ever had.

Later, in their driveway, his mother had had to dab tears of laughter from his eyes, as well as her own.

"This has been one of our best days ever," she avowed. "I will remember my 'little punk' until the day I die - and have the photos to remind me. Look, if you do decide to keep the piercings for a while, I'll... smooth the way with your father. I mean, I got the same ones, didn't I? I'll just tell him the truth; we were having a little fun with one another and just got carried away. I don't think we'll have to mention the part about all the makeup, do you? That will be just between us. For the time being, we'll just tie your ponytail a little different to cover your ears. Try to give him your left profile only and keep your mouth shut - literally!"

Alex had 'humored his mom', leaving his makeup and hair done the rest of the day. She ordered a pizza for dinner, then made him go to the door to pay for the delivery when it arrived. Alex opened the door and was stunned at the glazed expression on the delivery guy's face and the bulge that rose quickly in the boy's jeans. The transformed blonde stunner paid for the pizza and left a nice tip, allowing his fingertips to rest just a heartbeat longer than necessary in the boy's hand, then thanked him and shut the door. He smiled all the way back to the kitchen.

Later, his mother had teased him at the table how he should join a band.

"You have the right 'look' now, Sweetie," she had jibed mirthfully. The girls will adore you - maybe some of the boys, too!"

They had watched a video together afterwards, cuddled up together on the sofa and just enjoying each other's company, until she had hurried him upstairs to clean up when they heard his father's car pull up. With considerable regret, Alex used the makeup remover as his mother had instructed and cleansed his face of her loving efforts, then moisturized with the lotion she had cautioned him to use afterward.

In the days that followed, the conspirators frequently giggled to each other in shared amusement. Alex's mother complimented his "rad" appearance and for being such a good sport about her little tease. Of course, he had no intention of removing any of his piercings any time soon. There were many more memorable days for Alex that his mother didn't know about, as the parts and pieces of his fantasy took shape, leading up to THE memorable day. It had been over a year and a half since that first awkward, amazing night; at last, he felt ready.

***

His parents had fussed around more than usual that night, darting from bedroom to bathroom and back, a couple of times going down the stairs to the first floor, then returning. Alex suspected those trips downstairs were to mix drinks at the bar, indicating their level of nervousness. Whatever they had planned for the evening, it was something big for both.

Alex had to remain in his room. As of yet, neither parent had given any indication they were aware he had sneaked home from Tommy's house and he wanted to keep it that way. He would have loved to take up station in the linen closet across from his parents' bedroom door. He could have gotten a view of what his mother was wearing, even overheard what their plans for the evening were. With the way they were moving about, it was just too risky. Well, maybe he would be able to hear them discussing it when they returned. In the meantime, he had already begun preparing for his own 'party'.

As it was, he could only hear the murmuring of their voices through the common wall. His mother seemed more animated than ever. That wasn't all he heard. He closed his eyes and trembled with delight as he could make out the staccato click-click-click of his mother's stiletto heels on the bathroom tiles and hardwood floors.

Closing his eyes, Alex thought back to that first evening, watching his mother fuck herself with the dildo before his very eyes. That image had had a profound, lasting effect on him. While visualizing himself in his mother's place, he now penetrated his freshly-enema-ed and lubricated 'pussy' with the thick ten-inch black dildo he had purchased online. It had taken months to train his puckered hole to accept that monster so readily. He could feel shockwave after shockwave rolling over him as the massive member stimulated his hypersensitive prostate, triggering a massive full-body orgasm.

As a result of his rigorous 'pussy training', Alex didn't have to touch his little thing anymore. He could now cum as many times as he wished, gobbling down as much, or as little, ejaculate as he might produce. The operative words seemed to be "as little" of late. It seemed he wasn't getting hard and erect as he had that first night, either. In fact, the only things that seemed to get hard anymore were his hyper-sensitive nipples. Even the flesh around them had grown noticeably puffy. Was it possible his 'pussy-training' was actually making him more feminine? Perhaps it was just wishful thinking on his part. Rather than dampening his resolve to follow through on his plans, the sensitized nipples and small, limp appendage between his thighs merely reinforced it. His soft, harmless 'clitty' was easier to hide away, making him feel more womanly.

He heard them in the hallway, outside their door. He detected the mixed aromas of Shalimar, hair spray and cigarette smoke. Ordinarily, his mother didn't smoke, having given up the habit long ago. She did on these special nights. His father, like so many other men Alex had read about on the Internet, had a fetish for women who smoked. She also smoked during their 'scenes' because, she had confessed to her husband, it made her feel "wicked."

"Okay then," his mother sighed. "Go to the club, have a couple of drinks, relax, and wait for me to call. Don't try to call me or come looking for me; I plan to be... busy. Got it?"

"Yes, Honey," his father acknowledged.

Just then, Alex heard a horn honk in the driveway out front.

"There's my cab," his mother chirped. "We have been working up to this night for a long time, Lover. When I walk out that door, we are committed. If you have any last-minute doubts, say so now. Once we start this, I may not be able to stop. You know how I get."

"I know," Frank assured her. "I want this; for both of us."

"All right," Stephanie expressed with a note of caution. "As long as you are sure, we are going to do this just the way we planned. Whatever you see, hear, and experience, remember I love you, always have, and always will. Got it?"

"Got it," his father agreed. "I love you too, Stephanie."

"Stephanie?" Alex's mother questioned with an air of bemused confidence. "Who the hell is Stephanie? My name is Jasmine... Sugar. See ya around; know what I mean?"

Alex heard the sound of her heels on the stairs, then crossing the floor saucily. He could clearly picture in his mind the confident, almost arrogant attitude of the woman who owned that self-assured strut. Men found her irresistible; they would do anything, give anything, to sample her charms - and she knew it.

The front door opened, then closed, and she was gone. Shortly after, he heard his father make his way downstairs, through the kitchen and out into the garage. The automatic garage door opened and his father's S550 roared to life, then backed out. The garage door closed - and Alex was alone at last. They wanted him to "have a little fun, too", did they? Well, he was going to do exactly that.

He made a beeline for their bedroom. To save time, he had attached his DD-cup silicone breast forms to his hairless chest with aerosol medical adhesive, then donned the matching, heavily-contoured latex 'pussy panties' while waiting for his parents to finish their own preparations and leave. The custom-made prosthetics, color-matched to his skin tone, had cost the bulk of his 'college fund'. They had been worth the expense. With the use of some Dermablend, he had erased any trace of seam between latex and flesh. His lush, inviting curves were the equal of his sexy mother's, as he had always dreamed. Now, if only for a few brief hours, he would finally become her.

He couldn't believe his eyes. It was sitting atop her dresser, in full view, instead of hidden away in the bottom dresser drawer as usual. His hands trembled as he fingered the tissue-paper wrapping. Alex had been completely enchanted with the black calfskin corset the moment he had first discovered it a month before. His mother must have debated wearing this foundation tonight, then opted out. On the one hand, Alex was sorry for that. He had never seen her wear this corset. It's crisp, unblemished folds indicated she never had. On the other hand, he was thankful she had left it behind. It had been his first choice in foundations for this most special of nights; now, he would be the first to wear it!

He had been practicing regularly, using another of her waist cinchers to get the feel of corseting; training his figure to accept tight-lacing for extended periods of time. So, too, had he learned how to reach behind his back and lace himself up unassisted. The classic corset-training had resulted in reduced appetite, weight loss, and a visible re-contouring of his torso. Alex had almost choked on his potato skin when his mother had noted his diminutive physique at Friday's. He now wrapped the sensual leather garment around his already-slender form, fastened the front busk, then reached back and began cinching the laces, top and bottom toward the center, just as he had done so many times before.
In due time, he had cinched the laces down to the stops. He had a literally breath-taking exaggerated hourglass figure. The lacy shelf cups lifted his provocative boobies and pushed them together, giving him a deep, luscious cleavage. The heavy steel boning compressed his waist and spread out his hips and tush even fuller, just like his sexpot mother's.

Stockings were next on the agenda. Alex knew which drawer held his mama's hosiery. His target tonight was a pair of sheer black full-fashioned stockings with reinforced toes, French heels and back seams. They fit his long, shapely legs like a gentle caress. Using the palms of his hands, he adjusted the flimsy material so his back seams were arrow-straight. He had taken his time with the pedicure the night before, making sure it turned out just right. As he had hoped, his ruby-red polished toenails with gold nail art and gold toe rings were just visible through the dark, reinforced toe of his stockings.

The budding 'bad girl' opted not to don panties, as they would "just get in the way for a girl like me." He had read that phrase in several Internet porn stories and it had always made him hot. With his little cock tucked safely away inside his tightly-restrictive, yet oh-so-alluring pussy pants, he presented a tantalizing hint of a mons under his otherwise flat front. The folds of the inner and outer labia looked amazingly life-like, and the tip of his little thing was perfectly positioned where his 'clitty' should be. The bizarre garment was open in back, allowing access to his wet, inviting 'love canal'.

He sat down at his mother's vanity table, opened the drawers to locate the appropriate cosmetics and accessories he would need to make up his pretty face. The MAC logo on the small boutique bag captured his attention immediately. Was this the same makeup his mother had used to make up his face that Saturday afternoon? Browsing the bag's contents, he realized it was, and would be exactly the right 'look' to bring his fantasy to life. Alex knew the routine well. He had spied on his mother at first while she did her makeup. He had then studied makeup techniques through books and videos he had purchased on Amazon. Then he practiced in his bathroom whenever he knew he wouldn't be disturbed, honing his skills.

There was one effect in particular he truly adored. He had seen it several times on the Internet, downloaded the pictures and enjoyed them in private. His mother had even done the look on occasion, especially when enacting her 'hooker' persona. It was risky; there might be recriminations the next day. Alex now taped one of those downloaded pictures to his mirror for reference. With pounding heart, he took a pair of tweezers to his eyebrows and began plucking. He would deal with the fallout if and when it happened; nothing was going to spoil this night from being perfect.

At last he achieved the desired effect; his forehead was smooth and hair-free. He applied a light coat of foundation, blending it in evenly with a wedge-shaped sponge. Using a large brush, he set the base with a light dusting of translucent finishing powder, giving him a flawless, glowing complexion. Alex then applied a pair of thick, curly false eyelashes with an ease born of practice. To be daring, he added a pair of lower lashes to heighten the dramatic effect.

Using the picture as a guide, He penciled in exotically-high, razor-thin, sharply-angled brow lines. His hours of practice showed; he got exactly the right look on his first attempt. Continuing in the 'hooker' vein, he brushed a heavy application of Cobalt Blue shadow into his lids, extending it upward and outward towards the corners of his eyes. Using a fine brush, he applied a thin line of blue under his lower lash line, extending it along the rim to meet the previously applied shadow. He added shimmering pearlescent white highlights below the brows, blending the contrasting colors together into a smooth, gradual transition from dark to light.

Wide swaths of black liquid eyeliner traced his upper and lower lash lines, extending beyond the corners of his sapphire eyes into sharp points. A careful application of black mascara expertly melded his own lashes into those he had applied, framing his bewitching eyes in rich, ebony fur.

A dusky rose blush with pearlescent highlights accentuated his naturally-high, prominent cheekbones. He outlined his plush, pouty lips in burgundy, smudging the lines into his lip flesh to soften the look. He filled in with dark, luscious Ruby Red, then added a coat of clear, wet-look gloss to make his oh-so-kissable mouth glisten like real rubies.

In homage to the hairstyling 'tip' his mother had taught him, he bent forward, allowing his long, thick, flowing pale blonde hair to cascade over his head, touching the floor. He brushed it out, spraying liberally with lots of sweet, sticky hair spray. Then he snapped upright, flinging his hair over his head. He teased it out even more, then locked the full, fluffy mane in place with even more hair spray. She hadn't shown him that part, that day at the arcade, but he had watched her style her own hair in that fashion several times before and since. He would have loved to have a big, fluffy, curly perm, but this would do nicely for tonight. So little of 'Alex' remained, he noted, gazing dreamily into the mirror. The best was yet to come.

His heart leapt; his dream dress - a butter-soft black lambskin bustier minidress - hung on a hanger from the hook inside his mother's closet door. He and his mother had seen it, and the companion black calfskin motorcycle-style jacket now hanging on the hanger behind it, in the window of a high-end specialty leatherwear shop the afternoon they had gotten their piercings. This was the dress his mother had teased would "look so sexy on him." He had been captivated by it then, hoping his quiet gulp and trembling weren't noticeable.

When it had shown up in her closet soon after, he had been ecstatic, guessing his mother had been as enthralled with it as he. What had been a hazy, soft-focus image of what he would wear, how he would appear on this special night, instantly sharpened into crystal clarity. This was The One; it set the tone for the 'look' and persona he would assume.

That the dress, jacket and corset had all been left out made sense; Alex had instinctively known the three were meant to be a complete outfit. It was confirmation his mother had considered wearing the ensemble that night, then chosen another. What a break for him! He gazed longingly at the dress for a moment, running his fingertips reverently down the smooth, supple hide. Then he removed it from its hanger, unzipped the back zip, and wriggled into it.

It took so long to work the tighter-than-tight creation over his enhanced curves, then zip the zipper closed. Seeing his form in the full-length closet mirror, he knew he had gotten it right; what he saw before him truly did justice to the exotic, erotic slutwear. The dress's bodice barely concealed his protruding nipples and areolas, exposing cleavage a porn star would envy. The back rose only to the shoulder blades, just covering the upper edge of the corset. The snug handspan waist flowed into full, wide hips and a firm, round bubble butt. The hemline ended above mid-thigh; short enough to reveal his stocking tops, garters, and a flash of creamy thigh if he sat or moved the right way, yet was restrictive enough to hobble his gait.

A special dress required a special pair of shoes. They sat before him on the closet floor, right in front; black calfskin ankle-strap sandals with rapier-thin six-inch stiletto heels. These shoes had no platform soles; the wearer was subjected to the full effects of the sky-high heels. Although they had appeared in his mother's closet long before the dress and jacket, they were the perfect compliment; one more indication this outfit had been one of his mother's options tonight. That she had chosen not to wear it was very likely because of these same shoes. Alex knew full well the extreme arch of the feet and legs imparted by the fetish footwear inflicted severe pain and cramping to the inexperienced wearer. Only the most dedicated and foot-trained high-heel devotee would enjoy the experience to the fullest.

Alex was exactly that. He had been practicing in those shoes since they had first appeared, refining the short, sure-footed heel-toe-heel-toe gate, swiveling his hips in an exaggerated fashion, keeping his back straight, head up and shoulders back, as dictated by the fabulous fetish footwear. He donned them now, shivering just a bit as he wrapped the thin straps behind his heels, then around his trim ankles and buckled them in place. For the umpteenth time, he marveled at how all his mother's footwear were so perfectly mated to his feet. The tightly-laced corset was a godsend! It kept his posture firmly erect, making it easier to navigate on those extreme heels.

The jewelry was next. A quarter-inch ring sat atop each ear. A row of four similar rings snaked down the outer edges. A one inch loop, nestled against a thin, attention-grabbing four-inch hoop, filled out each earlobe. The small diamond in his right nostril sparkled in the soft lighting. Within his mouth, the gold ball flashed as he moved his tongue.

Neck chains followed; eight of them, in progressively-longer lengths, arranged in a cascade that dipped into his cleavage, calling attention to his prolific pulchritude. A like number of heavy gold bangle bracelets were slipped onto each dainty wrist, where they would jangle musically as he walked. His mother had a treasure trove of rings in her jewelry armoire. He slipped delicate gold rings on each of his fingers and thumbs. The final piece was a slender gold chain which he double-wrapped around his trim left ankle, signifying he was 'available'.

Then came another of those special touches that would set him apart from so-called 'respectable' women, identifying him as a true slut. He had found the site on the Internet. The nail technician who operated the business offered custom-made press-on nails to order; anything from mild to wild. Alex had opted for the latter, and now laid out a perfect set of two-inch, curving, square-tipped talons, polished Ruby Red with glittering gold nail art.

The instructions called for an adhesive tab or a single drop of Crazy Glue for each nail if the wearer only wanted the nails to hold for an evening's revelry. Alex didn't see how that could possibly be secure enough. He applied a thin sheen of the super-strong adhesive to each nail before pressing it onto the appropriate nail bed and held it in place until the glue set, taking care not to get any excess on his fingertips or the nails themselves. He was amazed how ultra-feminine they made his small hands and long, slender fingers look.

He now spritzed himself with his Mother's Obsession; behind each ear, at his throat, in his cleavage, on the inside of both wrists and behind his knees. He then spritzed the air above his head and allowed it to settle over him in a fine mist, just as he had seen his mother do. Beholding his image in the mirror, he could see no trace of 'Alex' at all; 'Alexis' was born, full-grown and ready to play.

She had fetched the black calfskin clutch purse from the closet along with the shoes. Anticipating a future need, she now filled it with the makeup items she had used to transform her face, plus wintergreen breath strips, her mother's purse-sized Obsession spritzer, companion hair spritzer and brush. She also selected a pack of her mother's Eve 120 cigarettes from the carton in her mother's dresser, plus a butane lighter and slipped both into her purse.

She then put everything away and cleaned up the vanity. Rising to her feet, she sashayed expertly to the closet, fetched the jacket from its hanger and slipped it on, leaving it unzipped with the halves of the wide waist belt dangling for effect. At last, she was ready!

She admired her reflection in the full-length closet door mirror for a time, turning this way and that, then decided to indulge herself a little. Making her way downstairs, she slinked sensually into the recreation room, turned on only the low-wattage 'party lights' behind the bar, then laid her purse on the counter. Stepping over to the entertainment unit, she turned on the stereo, found a station playing an extended Techno party mix, then stepped out into the middle of the room and danced sexily to the hypnotic beat, arms raised gracefully over her head.

After a while, she left the 'dance floor' and made her way back to the bar. Pouring a generous amount of Scotch in a rocks glass, she added a splash of soda - her mother's favorite drink - then sidled around to the front of the bar, perched delicately on her high-backed stool, crossing one leg over the other with a subtle rasp of stocking-on-stocking, which sent a little chill up her spine. She lit a cigarette, then held it aloft in her upturned arm. As she admired herself in the mirror behind the bar, she took in the ambience of the 'night club' and imagined the conversations she had with the men who were even then coming on to her.

She sipped her Scotch, then took a drag on her cigarette, noting the traces of lipstick on the filter and how sensual the slender white cylinder looked in her feminine, ruby-talon-ed hand. Soon, the powerful liquor went to her head, bringing everything around her into soft-focus. 'I guess I forgot about dinner, didn't I?' she mused contentedly. 'Maybe Tommy will save me a slice or two of pizza; I could have it for lunch tomorrow.'

As good as this evening was turning out, she felt vaguely empty. Was this all there was? She hoped not; she wanted more. A chain-of-association thought led her back to her 'working girl' ruminations. Alexis contemplated going out, actually stepping outside the door, maybe going for a little walk. A hooker in this neighborhood? That would be scandalous! What if Tommy Bradley was looking out his bedroom window at that moment and saw her strutting her stuff on the sidewalk? She still hadn't confided a word of this to him - and with good reason.

'Poor Tommy', she mused. 'He means well, but he is still such a child. If he saw me, his hormones would kick into overdrive - and he wouldn't have a clue how to approach me. He would probably jerk off, watching me through his window. Wouldn't it be a trip if I rang his doorbell right now and asked him to invite me in?'

Alexis giggled at the absurdity of her own argument. Tommy was still such a child? They were the same age! Still, the lurid 'ingénue' felt she had aged an eon since first discovering her parents' private predilections. Tommy was too young for her, she decided. She wanted a real man, just like her mama.

What would she do if, while walking down the street, a car slowed, pulling to the curb next to her? Could she find it within herself to sashay up to the window, lean down, smile, flash her boobies and ask the driver if he was looking for a 'date', as she had read in all those Internet stories? Little Alexis with the big tits; a real hooker at last! The thought was tempting; oh, so tempting...

"Lookin' good, Girlfriend!"

Startled, Alexis sat bolt upright. In the mirror, she caught the reflection of her mother - in the company of four very large, well-muscled Black men. 'Alexis' was so busted! If she hadn't been more than a little buzzed, she might have tried to make a dash for the stairs, then her room, slammed the door and sat with her back against it, pretending the whole thing was just a bizarre delusion on their part - and hers. Yet the setting, her attire and makeup, plus the power of the alcohol, nicotine and her own fantasies conspired to envelop her in a warm, comforting cloak of inevitability. It was too late - much too late. She couldn't pretend she wasn't sitting here, looking the way she did. She couldn't outrun their eyes, much less their feet; therefore, she wouldn't try. How did the lyrics to that old song go? It's time to "face the music and dance." How appropriate!

Buoyed by liquid courage, she swiveled her stool to face her appraisers, took a deep drag on her cigarette, then exhaled it towards the ceiling, smiling a small, bemused smile.

Her mother approached her, a smirk on her lips. Alexis' heart caught in her throat. Stephanie – 'Jasmine', as she had called herself earlier – had indeed affected the 'working girl' image and persona Alexis loved so much. The more mature woman was spilling out of a glistening red latex minidress with long, off-the-shoulder sleeves, a deeply-scooped neckline and hemline as short as Alexis' own. Black fishnet stockings hugged her shapely legs all the way to her red patent sandals with two-inch platforms and seven-inch stiletto heels. Her makeup and hair were every bit as provocative as that of the other 'hooker' in the room. The outfit was topped by a matching waist-length red latex motorcycle jacket, alluringly open like Alexis'.

Once reaching Alexis' side, she gave the younger version of herself a long, lingering once-over, lovingly drinking in every luscious detail. Noting the drink on the bar, as well as the cigarette held daintily aloft, the twinkle in her eyes and smile on her lips cranked up another notch.

"Lookin' very, very good indeed!" she murmured appreciatively. "I'm Jasmine, and you are...?"

"Alexis," the younger woman filled in.

"Of course!" the elder woman intoned. "It suits you perfectly. It's so lovely to meet you, Alexis. May I call you 'Lexie'?"

"Uh, sure."

"May my friends and I... join you?"

Without waiting for a reply, 'Jasmine' slid onto the stool next to her 'sistah', lit a cigarette, and smiled alluringly. Her four 'friends' filled in the space around the pair. She snaked her arm around the man hovering at her left shoulder and drew him closer to her. He had a monumental bulge making its presence known inside his pants. Jasmine massaged it suggestively with her free hand.

"David here is my main man tonight. We... hooked up downtown. Know what I mean? Anyway, it turns out he has these three really sexy friends. This is Robert, Leo, and William. Boys, say hello to Lexie."

They exchanged greetings. Lexie shivered in anticipation as the four men sized her up like wolves to prey.

"David was wondering if I could fix them up with some of my friends, so we could all party? Well, I was kinda strapped; none of my usual girls were available on such short notice. It was looking like I would have to take them on all by myself."

"Wha-what are you doing here?" Lexie stammered out.

"Why, I came for you, of course," Jasmine revealed matter-of-factly. "I suddenly remembered; I had a really special girlfriend with very special qualities who was home all alone tonight, and she just might be up for a little party..."

Lexie gave an involuntary start. She knew? Jasmine leaned forward and whispered into the younger girl's ear.

"I see you found your birthday present. Do you like it? It looks fabulous on you - just as I said it would!"

Lexie's eyes grew as big as saucers. Her companion chuckled at her discomfort.

"Yes, you certainly are a big girl now," Jasmine complimented. "All grown up and ready to party with me and my friends, just like I knew you would be. Baby, I have already collected a thousand dollars from each of them. We are bought and paid for; their 'bottom bitches,' to do with however they choose all night long. Doesn't that sound like fun?"

As if on cue, two strong, yet gentle pairs of hands began caressing the leather-clad lovely. In her alcohol-fueled state, Lexie shivered with delight.

"I have already rented a room down on the Boulevard where we can get more... comfortable," Jasmine briefed. "After that, who knows? The night is young and so are we. So, let's get this party started!"
Strong hands helped both women to their feet. After shutting off the stereo and lights, the sextet made their way to the front door, two pairs of metal-tipped high heels clicking smartly. The group loaded themselves into a silver Bentley in the driveway; Jasmine in front, between David and Robert, and Lexie in back, between William and Leo. David keyed the silky-smooth V-12 to life and they were off into the night.

Lexie's head was spinning; in part from the intoxicants she had consumed, in part from the exciting, erotic tableau unfolding before her. Jasmine was alternately making out with her two male seat-mates. At the same time, William and Leo had their hands all over the nubile young minx between them. She kissed one, then the other, massaging the raging hard-ons of both through their slacks. A quick stop along the way yielded a bottle of Scotch, mixers and a stack of disposable plastic cups.

Their 'Honeymoon Suite' was at a nondescript motel a couple of miles and a world away from the glitz and glamour of the entertainment district. It wasn't a hovel; nor was it the Ritz. It was what it was; a no-frills shelter from the storm - king-size bed with utilitarian mattress, bathroom that got the job done, television, sans remote control, bolted to a wall bracket, ice and vending machines a few doors down - which rented by the night, but was seldom occupied that long. In recognition of that fact, the door to the linen room next to the motel office stood open. Within, the overnight housekeeper sat, engrossed in the images on a smallish television screen, just waiting to be pressed into service. 'Get in, get out, get on with business,' Lexie mused to herself with a little shiver of anticipation. 'That's us, too.'

Once inside, William and Leo led her over to the bed without preamble. The nascent nymph slipped off her jacket and wriggled out of her dress, draping them over the back of the room's only chair, then lay down on her back, smiling invitingly. Any lingering doubts she may have had were well hidden as she spread her legs for her soon-to-be conquerors. William stripped in a flash and assumed his position on the bed between her limbs. Lexie noted with wonder; his angry tool was nearly the equal of the phallus with which she had trained herself these many months.

"Allow me," Jasmine purred smoothly from beside the bed.

Grasping his manhood gently, she guided it forward, located the younger blonde's love button, and held the throbbing club in position as William eased it home. Lexie's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. She sighed expressively as inch upon inch of dark meat filled her.

"Yes indeed," Jasmine murmured appreciatively, a little smile on her lips. "You are all grown up now - and I was here to share it with you. Your mama should be so proud of her little darling. Are you still hungry, Baby Girl? You look like you are. Leo, this little slut still has another hole to fill. Would you like to do the honors?"

Moments later, Leo was straddling her shoulders, holding the girl's head with both hands as he fucked her mouth. She clutched his buttocks with crimson-talon-ed hands, emitting muffled gurgles, an expression of true bliss on her face.

Soon, Jasmine had taken her own place on the bed next to her companion. Lexie glanced over as David prepared to take his just due. For the second time that evening, Lexie's eyes bugged out. She had only seen cocks like that in fantasy illustrations on the Internet. David's fleshy spear was easily twelve inches long and thick as Lexie's wrist, with a dark purple plum for a helmet. Jasmine's shriek started low as he parted her pussy lips, then rose in pitch and intensity as he slowly, surely rammed himself home. Her mouth a tempting target, Robert took his own pleasure in gagging her with his cock.

For the next hour, the two whores serviced their sturdy stallions side by side. Positions and partners were exchanged, but the surreal sex fest went on unabated. Although she had already had four earth-shattering orgasms, Lexie went off like a bomb the instant David plunged his monstrous man-meat deep into her loosened love nest. Rational thought escaped her. She was operating at some primal level now, all sensation and emotion. Cum streamed out of the corners of her mouth and gash, rivulets running down her cheeks and thighs. Even in her insensate state, she was aware of her slut 'sister' beside her, in much the same condition.

The six players eventually took a break to recover their sanity, perform necessary ablutions and clean up a little. The two women then embarked on major damage control, repairing the wreckage that was their makeup and hair. Lexie was thankful she had had the foresight to pack what she and her cohort needed for the task.

"You do know how to plan ahead," Jasmine commented, reading her thoughts. "I like that in a girlfriend."

"Great minds think alike," she responded, winking and smiling at Jasmine in the mirror. "We make a good team."

The other blonde arched one eyebrow appraisingly.

"Is that so?" she smirked. "Then perhaps you can help me with a little... complication I have to take care of..."

***

'Finally,' Frank DuValle thought, as he flipped the lid of his cell phone. 'Where the hell has she been?'

He had been nervously awaiting this call, as he had been nervous all night - and all the nights leading up to it. Frank had been plagued with self-doubt since the moment he had proposed to his exotic-dancer girlfriend and she had enthusiastically said "YES!" It wasn't that his cock was really small; it was actually about average. In his heart, he knew his Stephanie deserved much better than that - and had had it before they were married. She never dwelled on it, wouldn't even talk about it unless he pressed her. Yes, she had admitted at those times, she had had lots of cock - some of it very big cock. She sometimes missed those days, but her marriage to him was much more fulfilling and she wouldn't jeopardize it for an otherwise-empty fling, much less an affair.

They frequently went out to gentlemen's clubs and bars or attended fetish events, allowing her to dress to flaunt her stupefying curves and do her makeup and hair in a way that made men lust for her in their hearts, as they had done in her younger, single days as a professional tease. Frank was proud to show off his beautiful wife to them, and prouder still she always came home with him.

Still, his insecurities had gnawed at him. He saw the way men flirted with her and she flirted back, reminding him later it was, after all, harmless flirtation.

Being an imaginative, kinky lover herself, Stephanie had helped him act out his fears in an effort to get him over them. Their fantasy play had included his wife having sex with very large dildos, telling him they were better lovers than he could ever hope to be. She had humiliated him, degraded him, taunted him for his inadequacies, made him feel lower than dirt - the stuff of his most tortured nightmares. After exorcizing those demons, she had turned around and shown him she loved him for who he was, not what he felt he needed to be for her.

He had broached the idea of her having sex with another man. The idea had both fascinated and repulsed him. He felt like a character in a movie or cartoon; a little angel sitting on one shoulder, a devil on the other. The angel told him: "You should be proud to make her happy; she deserves it. Think how exciting it will be to see her completely fulfilled by a big cock." The little devil countered: "Don't be a sap. Once she has another man - and remembers how much better it is to be with a guy with a great big cock - she will leave you for him in a New York minute!"

She was aware of all that, and had been hesitant to yield to the suggestion. They had been working towards it slowly. She had him play the role of her 'lover' in their sex play. Together, they derided her hapless hubby while Frank filled her with his cum. Then she had him switch roles, becoming the cuckolded husband whom she came home to, having him eat her freshly-made cream pie, then, perhaps, offering him 'sloppy seconds'.

Then, about a month ago, they had spotted a small group of hookers congregating on a street corner while the couple was on their way home from one of their fetish events.

"I could do that," Stephanie had murmured. "You could let me off right here, dressed and made up just the way I am. I could light a cigarette, stroll up and down the sidewalk a bit, and wait for a car to pull up beside me. I could have a hot, frantic, anonymous fuck with some guy I will never see again, make some cute money, then bring my loose, sloppy pussy home and make my little cucky eat my date's cream pie, then rattle his little pee-pee around inside my swampy snatch."

They had pulled into an alley two blocks down and fucked liked teenagers.

That night had led inexorably to this one. She was out there now. She had already turned her 'date' - and, at last, was ready for him. He had to rearrange his cock in his pants as he read the text.

I M hot 4 U. Boulevard @ 6^th Avenue.

That was right in the middle of Hooker Central! He was out the door and in his car in a flash. Even at this hour, the traffic on the Boulevard seemed maddeningly slow. He finally reached his destination and saw… was that her, strutting her stuff so saucily on the sidewalk? It looked like Stephanie - or 'Jasmine' as she was calling herself tonight. Yet even with the aging effect of the heavy makeup, this appeared to be a younger-looking version of his wife, as though she had turned back the clock to the days when he had first seen her, up on that stage, and had been utterly smitten by her. The red latex outfit was gone, too. Had she changed her mind again, gone home and switched to that black leather dress she had hung so carefully on the hook on her closet door?

She beamed her most bewitching smile as he pulled up to the curb.

"Hi, Lover!" she chimed. "I've been waiting for you."

She opened the door and slipped into the passenger seat, closing the door behind her. Then she snuggled up next to him, massaged the back of his head with the long nails of her left hand while massaging the bulge in his pants with her right. Whoever this bewitching young thing was, it was not his wife. The voice was subtly different and she was wearing a different fragrance. The resemblance, however, was so uncanny, she could easily be Stephanie's younger sister – if she had had one.

"Who are you?" he queried.

"Call me Lexie," she murmured sexily in his ear. "All my friends do. Are you as ready for this as I am? Drive up to the next block. I'll tell you when to turn."

She directed him to a motel parking lot and had him park next to a silver Bentley. She sat there, smiling coyly, until he got the hint and came around to open her door for her.

"Thank you, kind sir," she purred appreciatively, placing his hand on her firm, rounded tush and walking him towards the nearest door.

He marveled at the smooth, syncopated motion of that undulating ass as her impossibly-high fetish heels clicked smartly across the walkway. She placed her hand on the doorknob, then paused.

"Jasmine is a little... busy right now," she cautioned, slipping her arm through his, "but she asked me to see that you're comfortable until she can get to you. Now, I could make you wait outside, but what fun would it be to mope around in a big, empty parking lot while the party is going on in here? You deserve a little fun tonight, too, Baby! So, I'm gonna bring you into the room with us, so you can watch. A lot of guys are really into that. One thing, though; you have to be a good boy or you can't stay..."

Frank DuValle felt a sudden sense of dread as they entered the room. He stopped dead in his tracks, his heart skipping a beat. He was not prepared for the sight that awaited him inside the door. That the woman on the bed was 'Jasmine', there was no doubt. Her red latex dress was hiked up to her hips as she straddled the man's crotch, rocking up and down on the biggest, blackest horse leg of a cock Frank had ever seen! A second hunk of dark meat was sawing in and out of her ass, while a third plowed her mouth. Tears of pure joy streamed from her eyes. Cum oozed from every hole. Her frantic, plaintive, muffled shrieks of ecstasy challenged the upper limits of human-made sound.

"Isn't that amazing?" the quasi-Stephanie observed in awe. "Normally, girls like us are pretty good at faking orgasms with our dates, but there is nothing fake about what she is experiencing. She started cumming continuously like that just before I walked out the door to meet you. That was... oh, a good twenty minutes ago, at least."

Frank's instinct was to rush to the bed and throw those three huge black men off his wife. He had been working steadily towards the idea of her having had sex with another man before coming to him, but he was in no way ready to see this! Stephanie - his Stephanie - was being fucked into a state of Nirvana by three Black cocks whose length and girth he could not hope to approximate, even after wolfing down a lifetime supply of Extenze. Even as those thoughts occurred to him, a large, meaty black hand clamped down on his shoulder from behind and squeezed; not enough to snap his clavicle, but certainly enough to make him wince.

"Be cool now, Baby," Lexie intoned quietly. "We're not going to make a scene here, right? Jasmine is just a working girl, doing her job, same as me. You knew that when you made your date with her, so there is nothing to get bent out of shape about now, is there? So, we're just going to step over to this chair right here..."

She guided him to a straight-backed chair facing the bed and eased him down onto it. The hulking Black man attached to the hand on Frank's shoulder had followed silently behind like a shadow. In his dazed, defeated state, Frank offered no resistance. After seating him, the leather-clad blonde then draped herself across his lap. Opening her purse, she extracted an Eve 120, lit it, inhaled deeply, then exhaled towards the ceiling. Holding the cigarette in her left hand, she snaked her right arm around his shoulders. As she did so, the black hand withdrew, yet Frank could feel the malevolent presence close behind.

"Where are my manners?" the young blonde apologized. "That was rude of me. William, would you please fix our guest a drink? Is scotch and soda on the rocks all right with you, Sweetie?"

William handed her the cup shortly after. She lifted it to Frank's lips and tipped it. He took a couple of swallows.

"There, that's better, isn't it?" his companion continued, giving him another sip. "Oh, wow, wait a minute."

She brought her right hand around and felt under her bottom.

"Where did this come from? No wonder you're so agitated, Lover. Feel that lump in your pants. It must hurt something fierce, being cramped that way. Here, let me help you with that."

With a little smirk, she set the cup on the floor, unzipped Frank's pants and withdrew his rigid, throbbing rod. Gently wrapping her left hand around it, she stroked it softly. Frank felt so ashamed. The erotic sight of the three Nubian Adonises literally making his wife scream at that ungodly high pitch, plus the closeness of the sultry, leather-clad vixen in his lap were conspiring to make him harder than he had ever been before in his life. He couldn't bear to watch his wife being taken in that manner, yet he couldn't tear his eyes away.

"There!" Lexie exclaimed. "That's much more comfortable, isn't it? Wow, will you look at those three big studs go to town on Jasmine! She is so into her personal Twilight Zone, I don't think she is aware we are on the same planet. Well, you know what they say: 'Once you go Black, you can never go back.' I would hate to be her husband, having to follow that. By the time they're done with her, she will never be the same. Oh, she'll give Hubby a mercy fuck from time to time, just to keep him dumb and happy, but he'll never be able to satisfy her again - not after this!"

Even as she spoke the words, the man fucking Jasmine's pussy grunted like a rutting pig, thrust his bone all the way in and held it there. Almost immediately, the other two men followed suit. Jasmine went rigid. Her muffled, pulsing shrieks became one continuous, piteous wail. A fresh wave of thick, white goo oozed out from around the three cocks. The insensate slut was allowed to slump over as her three lovers pulled out of her. Frank felt a wave of dizziness overcome him at the sight.

"Dammmmmmn," his lap-bound companion expressed softly. "I felt that one all the way over here! Baby, you can't possibly know what she just experienced. I can; they did that same thing to me an hour ago. Let me show you."

She used both hands to hike her skirt up around her hips. Repositioning herself, she sank slowly onto Frank's turgid tool, sighing contentedly. Frank gasped audibly. He had fantasized just such a scenario so long; to have it actually come true, even if it wasn't with his wife, made his head spin.

"Ooooooh, that is so good," the girl murmured contentedly. "Feel how wet I am, Sugar? How loose? The boys really stretched me out good. For a while there, I didn't know where I was, who I was, or what day it was - just like Jasmine is now."

Frank licked his dry lips and swallowed hard. His 'girlfriend' noticed his discomfort. She reached down and fetched his drink, lifting it to his lips. He swallowed greedily as she tipped it upward, emptying the cup. The friction against his cock caused by her movements made his whole body shiver. She felt the tremor and looked into his eyes. He saw her in soft focus. She was so beautiful!

***

Already sated, William, Robert and Leo were dressed and headed for the door. David was reaching for his pants.

"Do you want to see what did the real damage, up close and personal?" Lexie continued. "David? Bring your sweet, sweet self over here!"

The four men exchanged murmured words. The first three exited. As he went out the door, William exchanged knowing glances with Lexie. The corner of her mouth twitched, then she smiled invitingly. David, proudly naked, strode purposefully towards the pair, planting his legs on either side of Frank's. His erection had gone down a bit, but even semi-hard, it was a very thick nine inches. It hung there, glistening with Jasmine's juices and dripping cum, mere inches from their faces.

"Have you ever seen such a fantastic hunk of fuckflesh in your life?" the leather-clad lovely asked reverently.

Reaching out, she gently swiped one finger across the tip, then brought it to her lips.

"Mmmmmmm," the blonde vixen moaned, sticking her finger all the way into her mouth, "that is so good."

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Frank's mouth gape open, raptly watching her erotic display. She swiped another finger full of juices from David's member and brought it to her lips... then, instead, inserted her finger in Frank's open mouth.

"Take a taste, Baby," she cooed, grinding her love nest into his crotch. "See for yourself."

Frank closed his mouth and sucked her finger, his eyes locked on hers.

"Wasn't that yummy?" Lexie questioned, smiling beguilingly.

She gently grasped his chin and turned his gaze in the direction of the massive cock before him.

"Just look at it, Sugar," she intoned, taking David's tool in her hand. "It gaped me. It gaped Jasmine. It has both our juices on it - not to mention his..."

She lifted it to Frank's lips, pushing his head forward with her right hand.

"Taste it, Baby," the sensual sorceress urged quietly. "Take it in your mouth. Suck it. You know you want to."

Frank's mind was mush. He couldn't focus on anything but the cock in front of his eyes and the siren song of his companion's sultry voice. He opened his mouth and accepted her gift of warm flesh. She pushed his head forward, causing him to inhale more of it.
"That's it, Baby," she cooed, lifting his right hand to grasp the shaft. "Just like that. You're doing so good."

In the course of a few minutes, he had sucked David's cock clean - and brought it fully, gloriously erect. David backed away, smiling.

"Come with me, Baby," Lexie urged, taking Frank's hand. "Jasmine is ready for you now."

She led him to the bed. The latex-clad blonde on the bed had recovered somewhat, but was still trembling visibly. Rivers of cum gushed from her pussy and anus. She gazed up at them with limpid, half-focused eyes and held out her arms.

"Come to me, Sweetheart," she moaned. "I need you."

Lexie helped Frank onto the bed and between his wife's spread legs. Kneeling behind him, the younger blonde bent him over until he was eyeing his wife's gaping, oozing pussy up close and personal.

"Eat me Cucky," Jasmine cooed invitingly, gripping his head in her hands. "Clean my lovers' cum from my loose, sloppy holes. You have been wanting this with all your heart and soul for oh, so long. I want it, too."

She jammed Frank's face into her hot, steamy snatch. He lapped up the slimy goo like a man possessed, digging deeply with his tongue to scoop out as much jism as he could reach and swallowing it greedily. No longer encumbered by Robert's 'penis gag', Jasmine screamed through one thrashing, mind-blanking orgasm after another as Frank lustily laved her hypersensitive clit and G-spot.

Meanwhile, Lexie had moved to one side. She lubed two fingers with a generous dollop of K-Y and proceeded to open Frank's puckered star with slow, steady strokes.

"You are such a little wimp," she hissed in his ear, adding a third finger to the first two. "You don't deserve a woman like her. You know it, too, don't you? You have always known it. A woman like that needs real men like David, William, Robert and Leo, not a weak, pathetic little bird-dick. All a sissy like you is good for is fluffing real men, getting them ready for a woman who deserves them, then cleaning up after them. Since you are already a cum dump, if you are really, really good, maybe you can get a taste of what she got; then you will know what an honor it is to allow a man like David to tend to her needs. Would you like that, Cucky?"

Lexie withdrew her fingers, turned towards the foot of the bed and nodded. David took his place behind Frank, grabbed his hips and eased his bulbous head past the other man's relaxed sphincter. It was Frank's turn to emit a muffled, high-pitched scream, his eyes bulging wide. David pushed forward, forcing the hapless husband's face tighter into Jasmine's loose snatch.

It took some doing and lots more lube, but in the end, Frank took every angry inch of David's manhood. Sweat poured from his forehead. His eyes were glazed over. His breathing came in ragged gasps. His face, neck and chest were flushed crimson. He lapped and sucked wildly at his wife's pussy and anal opening like a madman. Jasmine, in turn, was a basket case. She had long since regained the heights of ecstasy she had experienced with David. As she now beheld, with glassy eyes, the black stallion plowing her husband's furrow, all she could do was hold on tight and enjoy the ride.

"Little Punk Bitch!" Lexie spat angrily in Frank's ear while stroking his tumescent tool. "This is what you were meant for - if that! You should thank your lucky stars if your wife decides to keep you around, if only to be her piss pot. You don't even deserve that much. I suppose now you want to spurt your weak, watery piss all over the bed and call yourself a 'man'. Well, go ahead; I need a good laugh. Do it!"

"I-in me," Jasmine stammered weakly. "I-I-I w-want him... in... me."

Without a single wasted motion, Lexie aimed Frank's cock directly at Jasmine's gaping hole. David thrust forward mightily, driving Frank's dick home. At that instant, Frank's whole body spasmed, emptying his balls into Jasmine's welcoming womb. As she felt his seed flood her insides, Jasmine's body arched off the bed, rigid. Her eyes rolled back into her head. Her mouth opened, but not a sound came out. Finally, she collapsed, totally spent, her equally-drained husband on top of her.

"I-I-I l-love you so damn much!" she softly stammered in her semi-conscious mate's ear.

Fetching a damp washcloth from the bathroom, Lexie cleaned David's cock gently, then helped him dress.

"Are we okay?" she questioned.

"Okay?" David came back. "That was intense. You are one hot little bitch; just like Jasmine. Still, I worked hard to get the white boy off. I'm thinking I deserve a freebie."

A smile curled the corners of Lexie's lips. She straddled David's muscular leg and rubbed her thigh up and down his.

"Just say the word, Baby," she cooed. "If Jasmine doesn't get you first, I will."

"I know how to contact Jasmine," he professed. "So, I can reach you through the agency too? I mean, that was what tonight was all about, right? Getting you started and all? Tell Jasmine she was right; you were worth every penny."

Lexie stifled her momentary surprise.

"Yes," she chirped, "absolutely. Just call and ask for me. They will be happy to set something up."

"Then we will be seeing each other again," he promised.

"...and your friends?" Lexie added hopefully.

"They're waiting for me at the coffee shop on the corner," David answered, "and yes, I will be sure to let William know you were asking about him."

Lexie blushed.

"Actually," her companion continued, "I don't think wild horses could keep any of them – or me - away from the two of you. You make quite a team."

"Damn!" Lexie replied with a wink. "I told Jasmine exactly that a couple of hours ago. As for the wild horses..."

She squeezed his crotch suggestively.

"Just keep those ponies saddled and waiting. I'm sure we can work something out."

"Until then," David bid, kissing her hand.

She returned to the bed with a deep sigh. Her parents had rolled over and were laying on their sides. Lexie climbed onto the bed to join them, sandwiching her already-slumbering father between her mother and herself. Feeling the bed shift, Jasmine - Stephanie - opened her eyes.

"Thank you," she mouthed silently.

"You're welcome," Lexie mouthed back.

The pair drifted off to sleep.

***

The first hint of dawn brightened the horizon. Lexie sat in the booth in the coffee shop, staring at the glass of orange juice on the table. She marveled at the look of her feminized hand wrapped delicately around the glass. Her Danish sat on the plate, untouched. The hand on the glass trembled slightly. Her companion reached her own hand across the table to stay the tremor. The two had awoken about the same time, slipped out of bed, cleaned up, dressed, repaired their faces and hair, and stepped outside, leaving Frank to his deep slumber. Jasmine and her protégée joined the other 'working girls' in the coffee shop to rehash the night just passed.

"What is it, Baby?" Jasmine inquired. "Talk to me."

"It's everything, Mama," the young girl explained. "I am on such an emotional high right now, it might be days before I come down."

"I understand, Sweetheart," her mother comforted, "really I do. It helps if you talk it out."

"You knew," Lexie intoned, more a statement of fact than a question.

"Of course I knew, Sweetie," Jasmine replied with a smile, squeezing her progeny's hand reassuringly. "I wouldn't be much of a mom if I didn't keep an eye on my child and what was going on in his… her life. I told you that already."

"How long?" the young girl inquired.

"I spotted you the first time - at least I hope it was the first time - that night I was whipping your father in our bedroom. By the time I noticed you, it was already too late; you had seen way too much to explain away. Besides, when I am that deeply into a 'scene', I can't just step back and reflect."

"I heard you tell Daddy that last night," Lexie confided.

"That was for your benefit as much as his," her mother informed her. "I knew you would be listening in. I wanted to give you the chance to opt out, too, in case you were having any second thoughts."

"So you even knew I had snuck home from Tommy's and was going to get dressed up," Lexie mused in wonderment. "You didn't just happen to think of me at the last moment. You planned to include me in last night's scene from the start."

Jasmine beamed a smile.

"I'll admit; I became something of a snoop when I knew you had found out about us," she explained. "Since you knew about our little secret, I wanted to find out if you had any of your own you were hiding. That's my job as a mom. The long hair, corset and high heel training, makeup practice, dressing in my clothes when your father and I weren't around, and finally the expensive prosthetics, all told me which way you were going. The pussy training with a big black dildo told me which way your tastes ran. I have been right there with you, every step of the way; helping you when you needed it, giving you little tests now and then, just to see how far you were willing to go. I watched you a few times while you were working on your makeup and hair, or practicing your sexy strut in high heels. You were really, really good, Sweetie.

"The afternoon I talked you into getting your piercings, then made up your face and hair in the Ladies Room of the arcade, was your 'final exam'. My intuition had been telling me you were close to taking your fantasy to the next level. I kinda hoped I could get you to 'come out' to me in the mall; let me buy you a cute set of lingerie or a pair of high heels. You have no idea what a thrill it would have been to get you to spend the day shoe shopping with me for your eighteenth birthday!

"You just weren't confident enough to let go – not all the way, anyway. Oh, you tried so hard not to appear excited while we window-shopped at Wild Pair, Aldo, VS and Frederick's. Then when we did the same on the Boulevard, I thought you were going to cum in your jeans when you saw that dress and jacket in the store window. At least I was able to talk you into the piercings. Really, Sweetie; no boy would do all that – especially not getting his tongue pierced. There is only one reason to get that done, and it isn't about any 'fashion statement'!

"When you allowed me to pull you out of the Ladies Room with me, then onto the street where everyone could see you, then window-shopped with me as naturally as could be, I knew you were ready. It would just be a matter of time and opportunity before you went all the way. I wanted your first time dressed to be as positive an experience as I could make it, so I started putting together the support package the next day."

Lexie glanced down, fingering her dress. Jasmine smiled, nodding her head.

"That was certainly part of it," she agreed, "and it was money well spent. As I said at the time, it looks sexy on you. I got a real kick out of leaving the house last night, knowing you would be home, getting all dolled up just like me."

"Why, Mama?" Lexie, asked querulously. "Why didn't you try to stop me? Why weren't you horrified about what I was doing?"

"Why weren't you horrified about what your father and I were doing?" Jasmine countered. "In some ways, you and I are exactly alike. In others, you are just like your father. Why couldn't you come to me, even once, and tell me what you really wanted? Why did you think you had to do it all behind my back?"

"I... was..." Lexie began, grasping for words.

"Unsure of what my reaction would be?" Jasmine challenged, "knowing the lifestyle we lead? Or, were you... ashamed, afraid of me thinking you 'less of a man'?"

The younger girl nodded her head, staring at the tabletop.

"That is exactly like your father," Jasmine pointed out. "Baby, you are my flesh and blood. The only mandate I require of you – the only one that means a damn - is to be yourself; whoever or whatever that may be. After all these years together, your father still needs to take that lesson to heart, too. I won't deny it's nice to have a really big cock. Last night was..."

The latex-clad lovely closed her eyes and shivered with remembered delight.

"... but it pales in comparison to having a man who loves you without question or reservation. I have been battling your father's demons over his 'size anxiety' since before you were born. Even though he still won't admit it, he has been harboring a deep-seated desire to watch me cuckold him since we first met. I suspect that fantasy was a large part of his initial attraction to me. At the same time, he is mortally afraid I will leave him for the first big dick that is waggled in my face.

"Last night was supposed to be a major step in his acceptance of the solidity of our relationship and his true desires. He had developed a major Jones for the thought of me as a hooker, having sex with some anonymous 'date', then having sex with him..."

"I can identify with that," Lexie interjected slyly, "at least, that first part."

"I can see that," her older companion smirked, squeezing her hand again. "Anyway, I introduced him to that idea as a way to ease him into what he really wanted, but wouldn't admit. Last night, I was to rent a room, go out and pick up a 'date', do my business, then text your father. He would then become my next and last 'date' of the evening. At least, that was as much of the plan as he knew.

"I was planning on picking up a 'date', then having him bring me back to our house to pick you up, promising him two girls for the price of one, or some such. Even if you didn't do much more than sit on the bed next to us and watch, it was a way to get you involved – which I knew was your fantasy. When David and his crew turned up and asked for another girl, I thought I had died and gone to heaven! That may have been a little more than you were willing to take on your first time, but I can be very persuasive when I want to be; I knew I could convince my little girl to go along. Even so, when we arrived home and I saw you sitting there, looking and acting the way you were… well, I had no idea just how much like me you had become. As 'Stephanie', I should be horrified. As 'Jasmine'…"

She patted Lexie's hand gently, a contented smile on her face.

"Thank you," the young girl acknowledged appreciatively. "Are we okay? I mean, with… this?"

The corner's of Stephanie's mouth twitched, then curled upwards.

"Maybe later," she supposed, "after we've showered, changed, and resumed our regular lives, my maternal instinct will kick in and I will feel I'm going to burn in Hell for involving you in all this, but yes, I think we're going to be just fine. I'm honestly surprised it turned out as well as it did; pleasantly so."

"I can't believe I said those things to my father," Lexie uttered incredulously.

"Did you mean them?" Jasmine questioned.

"Of course not!" Lexie avowed emphatically. "It just seemed to be the right thing to say, given the circumstances."

"That is exactly right, Sweetie," her mother agreed. "It was the right thing to say. I don't mean any of the vile things I say to your father at those times, either. It was a scene; a psycho-sexual 'head game.' We each had a role to play. I thought you played yours exceptionally well. You have great instincts for this.

"Let's get something straight; your father is a very, very skillful and thoughtful lover - and a kinky bastard, to boot. He can actually talk me into an orgasm - and I, him. As good as David and his crew were, if it came down to a choice between them and your father, Frank would win in a walk. I don't know them, other than having had one night of great sex with them. Your father and I share a level of intimacy you can't go out and find just anywhere.

"Even that pales in comparison to the relationship between a mother and her child. I would love you any way you want to be. Having said that..."

She took a deep breath, ordering her thoughts.

"... I like this 'you' a lot. I was... surprised, to say the least, to discover just how much you had gotten in touch with your 'inner slut'. There is something I need to know; did this have anything to do with your discovery of our kinky lifestyle?"

Lexie nodded her head.

"I saw you in that black catsuit and high heels, all made up the way you were, looking as stunning as you did, and I… well, I was hooked. At first, I saw you the way Daddy saw you; a woman so beautiful, so desirable, I wanted to throw myself at your feet. Then… I don't know. I started seeing the scene through your eyes, feeling the power you had over him, even without the restraints. When I saw you fucking yourself with that big black dildo – and imagined you with the man attached to that cock, just the way you were taunting Daddy – I wanted it, too. I can't begin to explain why; I just knew that was the way I wanted to be - had to be."

Her mother pursed her lips and turned away, staring out the window for a moment.

"I am going to burn in Hell..."

She turned back to gaze steadily into her child's eyes.

"... doubly so when you hear what else I have to tell you. You remember when I said I was there with you, helping you, every step of the way? Well, I may have… overstepped my boundaries a bit. I have fantasies, too, you know. We have always been so close, you and I. I have always wondered what it would have been like if you had been born a girl and I had been able to nurture you, woman to woman. You were late entering puberty; really late. No big deal; even 'late bloomers' catch up sometime. That gave me additional time to fantasize about you being my little girl.

"When I first detected you were playing dress-up in my clothes and experimenting with my makeup, I was thrilled!. I knew in my heart what you must have been feeling. I could see that inner glow in your eyes after one of your dress-up sessions. But you never said a word to me. I thought you were still conflicted; not sure whether you were intrinsically male or female and how far you wanted to go. I was fighting the urge to give you a little nudge in the right direction – what I felt was the right direction. Then, when you told me you wanted to grow your hair out... and I thought you were making a commitment to your feminine side, I - well..."

Lexie glanced down at her lap, then at her mother.

"The 'vitamins'?"

Jasmine nodded, smiling disarmingly.

"It's not too late," she assured the young girl. "At least, I don't think so. I mean, if this is all too much for you and you want to go back..."

Lexie pursed her lips and thought for a moment, then gently shook her head.

"Noooo," she expressed slowly. "In fact, I think I want to continue going the other way."

Her mother beamed at that.

"We can do that too, Baby," she assured her, squeezing her hand, "as far as you want to go. You're a big girl now; old enough to make that choice for yourself."

Lexie looked down once more, appraising her body.

"I really like this," she confessed, "all of it. I want... more. You don't mind, do you?"

"Mind?" Jasmine repeated, her eyes misty. "Baby, I couldn't be happier for you - for both of us! This can't help but bring us closer still. I'll be honest; after seeing you, being with you like this, sharing what we already have and will in the future, I might have trouble thinking of you any other way now. I knew, that afternoon in the arcade, this was going to be something special. Last night, I wanted to see how far you would go. Now, I'm not sure you have limits.

"As much as it pains me – probably both of us - it might be best if I took you home and had you become 'Alex' again; at least, for a little while. After last night, we can't hit your father with too much information all at once. We'll need some time to get him used to the idea of having a daughter, instead of a son. It will also give both of us time to think about what we've just discussed and decide if this is really what we want to do."
"Speaking of last night, how long will Daddy sleep?"

"That's hard to say," Jasmine replied, shrugging her shoulders. "We dosed his drink pretty good with GHB to get him over his inhibitions. He just might sleep through checkout time, or at least close to it. That will give me time to take the car, go home, drop you off, shower, change, then come back for him without his knowing I was even gone. Maybe this time I will finally get him over his manhood issues."

"How do you do that when we spent all last night humiliating him for the size of his cock?"

"I will do it by being there for him when he wakes up and showering him with some industrial-strength Tender Loving Care to remind him he is still my one-and-only, just as I promised him last night before we left the house. I will tell him the same thing I just told you; it was a scene, intended for our mutual pleasure. I just pushed his limits a little farther than he thought he could go, as any good domme would."

"How much will he remember?" Lexie inquired.

"Thanks to the GHB, he will only remember what I want him to remember. That will work in my favor. I will simply remind him what a great time we had last night – and how much I love and adore him. Of course, I may have to smooth things over a bit to explain why his ass is so stretched and sore."

They shared a laugh over that.

"Will he remember me?" the younger blonde asked pensively.

"I think," Jasmine responded, leaning closer, "he may have some fleeting recollections of another hooker named 'Lexie'. I don't think he ever knew who she was, even before we dosed him. You were - are - that good."

"David and his friends knew about me, didn't they?" Lexie continued matter-of-factly. "I mean, with all that raging testosterone in the room last night, not one of them made a play for my 'pussy', even though it was right there in front of them – like they knew in advance it was off-limits."

Jasmine squeezed Lexie's hand again, smiling a Cheshire smile.

"David and his friends were thrilled with the idea of helping me break you in. Men still get off on the idea of having a virgin. Some men cream at the thought of turning a virgin into a slut…"

"… and are willing to pony up big bucks for the privilege," Lexie interjected, smiling smugly. "By any chance, did you set this all up through... the agency?"

Jasmine visibly winced at the mention of the words.

"Either someone has a big mouth," she murmured, "or you are a much better researcher than even I give you credit for. I didn't want to hit you with too much information all at once, either."

"It isn't so tough to figure out," Lexie observed. "You said your 'plan' was to pick up an anonymous date, do your business, then contact Daddy. Lo and behold, your first date just happened to be David and his 'crew', as you called them. They were a class act with money behind them, not four bruthas from the 'hood, out cruising for a good time. Maybe I'm wrong, but it seems to me they are the type to call ahead for reservations, rather than settling for a la carte in the cafeteria. It was also quite a coincidence that all four were big, well-muscled, and had really big cocks.

"Here's what I think. You told Daddy you were going to 'date' some guy you picked up in a bar or on the street, then give him 'sloppy seconds' to fulfill his fantasies of you being a hooker and cuckolding him. In reality, you set up David and his friends in advance as your 'dates'. That would give you the perfect rationale to include me in your 'scene', just like you said earlier.

"Of course, it also meant your husband would have to watch you having sex with all those great big cocks, watch them driving you to insane levels of pleasure, instead of simply imagining it. He would also be watching you live out his fantasy of you as a hooker. Wouldn't that be a nifty way of easing him into the idea of you actually working for this 'agency' – and him becoming your cuckold for real?

Jasmine pursed her lips, smiling, and just gazed at her 'daughter', her eyes dancing.

"Perhaps."

"If it had been me," Lexie continued, "if I had set all of this up in advance, I might also be tempted to take it one step further. Let's say I booked the room in advance, too; maybe that morning. That would give me enough time to install a hidden camera or two, to capture all the action. Later, when my husband awoke and couldn't remember what had happened, I would be able to show him all those big cocks pleasuring me, pleasuring him, and show him how good it had been for both of us.

"'No, Silly,' I would tell him when he asked, 'of course I am not trying to blackmail you with this. I'm simply showing you that you really have nothing to worry about if I have a big cock from time to time. See how hard you came when you were cleaning my lovers' cum out of my pussy and ass – while being fucked to high heaven in your own sissy pussy? You loved it, just as I always knew you would. It's just sex, Sweetie. We're not cheating, because we're sharing the experience together, just as we have shared everything else. Our relationship will be even stronger than before. This can be a new thrill we both enjoy. Now, wouldn't you like me to be a 'hooker' for you more often?"

Jasmine broke down in a fit of quiet laughter.

"I am so busted - by my own little girl," she expressed ruefully, trying to contain herself.

"But ya know..." Lexie went on, doing her best Jay Leno impression, "... after last night, your relationship with Daddy is at a delicate stage. Like you said; this may be the time you finally get him over his 'manhood issues' once and for all. The resultant new level of trust, respect and understanding of one another could reinvigorate your marriage; open it up to a whole new vista of enjoyment for both of you. It would be a shame if an untimely revelation of the true nature of your 'public relations' work all these years spoiled those efforts."

Jasmine's body stiffened perceptibly. Then her eyes twinkled and a coy smile curled the edges of her mouth.

"And just what," she smirked, "would the price of someone's continued... discretion be?"

"Oooooh, I don't know," Lexie mused casually, swirling her orange juice around the glass. "You live a very attractive and, shall we say, lucrative lifestyle. If someone were tempted to seek her own employment with this 'agency', then someone would have incentive to be discreet, wouldn't she? I'm just going to take a flier on this, but it might be easier to convince your husband he has nothing to fear from your occasional... dalliances if he has two lovely ladies attending to his needs, rather than just one. Some men might regard that as a little piece of fantasy heaven - don't you think?"

"Just so we're clear," Jasmine cautioned, tracing the length of her younger companion's arm with her fingertips, "if someone were to go that route, we would be talking about a lot more than just playing dress-up; heavy-duty hormone therapy, personal and lifestyle changes..."

She gave Lexie the once-over, smiling.

"I think she already has a handle on that," Jasmine continued. "Of course, the prosthetics would have to be replaced with something more... permanent. That's just for starters. There would be other changes, too, to make her more..."

She looked over the edge of the table to the junction between Lexie's thighs, then up again.

"... accommodating to the male anatomy. She would be kept very, very busy after that; a commitment of time, money and effort that large would demand a substantial return on investment to make it worthwhile. In fact, she would likely be giving up the pampered, privileged life she had known, plus any other career path she might have envisioned, for this new, very demanding one. College would definitely be a non-starter; that little girl would require a different, highly-specialized 'education' altogether. Who knows? If her 'trainer' is really strict, the sweet young thing might even be required to work out of a motel like this one to start; turning 'dates' on the street like a common ho'. Then again, if she already is a little slut, that shouldn't be an issue - should it?"

Lexie closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, then let out a long, expressive sigh before opening her eyes again.

"I thought so," Jasmine smirked. "Baby, you just graduated cum laude! Well, there's no time like the present. Let's go."

"Where to?" Lexie inquired.

"The motel office," her companion giggled. "I've changed my mind about today. We are going to need the room for another night. In fact, our first 'date' is already waiting for us - he just doesn't know it yet. Trust me when I tell you; men love to be awakened that way. Between the two of us, we should be able to convince him our new… lifestyle will be a dream come true for all three of us. If not… well, there are other methods of persuasion, aren't there? I really did plan ahead; I packed my bondage and discipline gear in the trunk of your father's car yesterday afternoon. I have so much to teach you."

They rose together, paid their bill at the register, then strutted gracefully out the door, their heels clicking smartly. Once outside, Jasmine withdrew her pack of Eve 120's from her purse and lit one, then held out the pack.

Cigarette?"

Lexie drew one between her talon-ed fingers, leaned forward and accepted the light. She inhaled deeply, then stood upright and exhaled casually, holding her cigarette gracefully aloft while the two 'working girls' beheld each other with twinkling eyes.

"I'll call the agency and tell them we're available," the older vixen advised, looping her arm through her companion's and resuming their slow, sinuous pace across the parking lot. "There are guys out there who will pay a fortune for a mother-daughter team – even more if they think the 'daughter' isn't one by choice. You can play that role, can't you, Sweetheart?"

"No Mommy, nooooo," Lexie whined in a pretend little-girl voice. "I don't wanna be a girl! Don't make me suck that man's cock. Don't let him stick it in my little tushie. It's too big!"

Mother and 'daughter' shared a throaty laugh over Lexie's over-the-top characterization.

"That's my little girl," Jasmine avowed, patting Lexie's arm affectionately. "You'll do just fine. This is gonna be so cool!"