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Death Row - Part 2 By Waldo Chapter 1 - The death announcement Chapter 2 - The robbery Chapter 3 - Trailer Park Slut Chapter 4 - Time never flies when.... Chapter 5 - Calvin and Gloria Chapter 6 - The first hour of transfer into her body Chapter 7 - Bimbo or Mob boss Chapter 8 - A visit to a gynecologist Chapter 9 - Candy's introduction to John Death Row - Part 2 By Waldo Chapter 1 - The death announcement The ineffective airflow through the small, ten by fourteen feet jail cell held the thick cloud of heavy cigar smoke within the bars as if the open areas between the bars were also solid walls. The foggy smoke, just as the cell's sole occupant, was retained within the small rectangle formed by the three walls and jail bars. The long- term, middle-aged prisoner lying on his back, was staring up at the semi-dark ceiling but his unfocused eyes weren't really seeing anything. Although it was only a couple of minutes past ten p.m., it was already the standard "lights out" time in the cellblock, but that rule applied only to the lights within the cells. The corridor just on the other side of the jail bars was brilliantly lit by the constant-on lights which threw enough light within the jail cell so that the vigilant guards could check on every prisoner's status every fifteen minutes - even during the sleep period. Death Row inmates required special and frequent attention. Only minutes before, the guard had loudly ordered "Smoking period's over - put them out!" then stood just outside this particular cell's bars, watching the slow responding prisoner take the last inhale, then slowly grind the cigar's lit end against the cement floor, extinguishing the cigar. Once the guard was satisfied that this prisoner had complied with the schedule, the guard then moved to the rest of the cells, one at a time verifying compliance with the rules. Finally satisfied with everyone's compliance, the guard ordered "Lights Out" then flipped the master light switch turning off the lights in each of the cells. The prisoner waited until he heard the guard's shoe clicks get fainter and the soft click of the office door shutting. Then he re-lit the cigar, knowing that he could smoke for another ten minutes before the guard would make his next series of rounds. If the guard questioned the still heavy cloud of smoke in the cell, the prisoner could blame it on the cell design. There weren't any air flow vents within any of the cells because of the very strict security. The prisoner frequently bent the prison rules, preferring to push the system even though it meant that he risked getting a punishment for violating the very strict system rules. But tonight, he really didn't care if the guards caught him smoking. Just five hours ago, the prison doctor had visited him in his cell, surrounded by two very protective burly guards. The doctor didn't waste any words - "You're dying." The doctor had discovered the rapidly spreading deadly cancer about three months earlier during a yearly physical; determining then that the prisoner had only about six months at the most to live. But the doctor didn't immediately inform the prisoner, not wishing to give the patient the bad news without going through the proper channels first. Per regulations, the doctor had decided to inform the prisoner's next-of-kin; a brother whose documented desire was to keep the severity of the illness secret from the prisoner as long as possible. But recent tests proved that the prisoner didn't have too much time left. The doctor's visit today was to inform the prisoner about the cancer, about how the deadly disease had spread throughout his body and to explain why he was feeling so sick most of the time. The current diagnosis was that the prisoner only had about two to six weeks left. Surprisingly the prisoner took the bad news quite well. He listened to the doctor, asked a couple of questions concerning the doctor's expected symptoms and the expected demise date; then lit up his cigar, ignoring the doctor, the guards, and the smoking rules as he thought about his very limited options. The doctor, recognizing that he was dismissed by the prisoner, walked out of the cell, followed by one of the two guards. The last guard stared at the prisoner, and mumbled "Sorry. Wish that there was something that I could do." then shut the heavy cell door. The tall, handsome guard, with sandy blonde hair, and blue eyes had a muscular body that showed he worked out frequently. He stood on the other side of the bars, hands behind his back in a position of attention as he evaluated the prisoner's mental state. For a moment, Officer Greg Mahoney stared at the man that he personally hated; but at this moment Greg felt a lot of pity for the condemned man. The prisoner raised his head so that he was staring back at the guard. A small tear was slowly working its way down the prisoner's cheek, toward the corner of the mouth where the big, round cigar protruded from his mouth. The guard's unusually low voice sounded distant as he softly said, "Today and today only, I won't enforce the smoking rules during my shift. Tomorrow, I've got to do my job." The prisoner's head nodded slightly acknowledging the guard's unexpected gift. Not bothering to remove the cigar from his lips, the prisoner mumbled something that sounded like "I refuse to die in this cage. Somehow, I'll find a way to escape my death just as I'll escape from this prison. Because of your personal concern about my welfare, I'm extremely grateful to you. I'll do what I can to ensure that those intermittent minor problems that you've been having, will cease occurring. Thank you." Officer Mahoney paused as he mentally debated his response. He had suspected that this man had been behind the recent spat of sabotage pranks at his trailer, but hadn't been able to prove it. That this prisoner had ordered one of his men to put the live rattlesnake in Mahoney's bed. That he had been behind the electrification of Mahoney's commode so that when Mahoney peed, the mild electrical current had traveled up the pee stream attacking his most sensitive area. Mahoney hadn't been able to prove it but he knew that those and other destructive pranks against him, had been ordered by the man that he was staring at - the man that had just received the news of his newest death sentence. Deciding that their feud was over, the young guard decided to forgive the man who'd caused him so much personal grief lately. Clearing his throat, Officer Mahoney asked, "Do you want me to request Social Services to bring your brother in to see you?" "No. My brother knew about this but didn't bother to come see me or tell me. I, John Augustus, will deal with my grave-robbing brother in my own way. Have my lawyer come see me!" ****** The tall, attractive, young redhead picked up a small bottle of scotch and looked at it as if she was reading the label through her sunglasses. She was actually looking beyond the label, identifying the mirrors that the cashier used to watch for shoplifters. Placing the bottle back on the shelf, she picked up a different brand bottle and changed her stance so that she could examine some of the other wall mounted mirrors while she pretended to read the bottle's label. Satisfied with her analysis of the mirror placement and the cashier's limited line of sight, she put the bottle back on the shelf and picked up two small bottles, quickly cradling them in her arm where her body blocked the cashier's observation through the overhead mirrors. Walking slowly around the end cap of one of the rows, she slipped one of the bottles into her open large purse, and closed her purse in one quick movement. Then she continued walking straight toward the cashier while still carrying the other bottle in the crook of her arm. She was clad completely in virginal white from her v-neck blouse to her white skirt, to her three-inch white heels. Knowing that the cashier was staring at her with an obvious personal interest, she confidently walked down the main aisle - her obviously bra-less breasts jiggling and her hips swaying to each step. She knew that she was a flirt and a tease with her indecently short skirt, exposed hose tops, and heels. The heels and short dress make her already tall body look taller and intimidating, so that she stood out when she was near other women. Stopping at the cashier counter, she pulled her shoulders back, thrusting her exposed, low cut cleavage out more prominently. She placed the bottle on the counter, smiled a radiant smile at the cashier, and asked in a sultry voice "I'm planning a party next week. How much is a case of this?" The cashier picked up the bottle, ran it through his scanner, glanced at the cash register's cost display, then punched some numbers into his calculator. Looking up from his calculator, he proclaimed "Pint bottles are eight dollars each, so a case will cost ninety-six dollars plus tax - about a hundred dollars or so. You can buy the same amount of whiskey in the larger liter bottles for about eighty-three dollars plus tax." She raised her eyebrows, pursed her lips as if to say "oho", then with her mouth still open, flicked her tongue out slightly to lightly touch her already glistening ruby-red lips; before returning her face to her `We both know that I'm beautiful' smile. She'd clearly learned how to flirt with men's fantasies, turning herself into a sensual glamour girl or coy seductress as needed. Using a practiced flourish, she slipped two fingers down the middle of her cleavage, pulling out a twenty-dollar bill as she pulled her shoulders back, resulting in her cleavage being displayed more readily. Holding the folded money between the tips of two manicured ruby-red long fingernails, she replied in a very sexy mummer "I'll come back when I'm ready for the party. Will you be here?" Her added emphasis of the word "you" wasn't ignored by the cashier. The cashier's eyes flitted from the twenty-dollar bill to the cleavage, to the woman's ruby-red lips, to the sunglass covered eyes, then back to the cleavage being prominently displayed for his enjoyment. Not lifting his eyes from her obviously firm chest, he stammered "I work weekends and most evenings." Using the grace of a Black Widow spider that's getting ready to devour her mate, the woman's lips pursed up as she simply replied "Really?" The man's obvious staring at her breasts stopped as he jerked himself back to reality. Turning his attention back to the cash register, he jerkily ran the liquor pint bottle through his scanner, dropped the bottle into a plain brown bag and punched some numbers on his cash register keyboard. Turning to stare at her again, he stated in a slightly shaky voice "I'm authorized to give a ten percent discount to special customers. With the discount, it's only seven dollars and sixty-two cents." Shaking her head in a laughing motion, as her mane of curly red hair floated around her beautiful face slightly before settling back down into a frame around her face, she laughed out loud as she held the money out to the cashier. Staring at her image in the mirror behind the cashier, she tossed her long hair back, licked her lips, then pursed her lips in a pout while observing her reflected image. Satisfied with her sexy woman image reflected in the mirror, she directed her attention to the cashier again, asking, "What's your name?" "Bob. My friends all call me Bob. My real name's Robert but I prefer Bob. You can call me Bob." he quickly stammered as he took the money from her slender fingers. She watched as the cash register flew open, revealing the full drawers of money, quickly estimating that there must be at least a thousand dollars in the drawer and it was only seven p.m. - by the midnight closing time, there should be at least two to three thousand dollars in the drawer. Turning her attention back to the cashier who was holding her change, she responded "Men named Bob are always so sexy. You can call me Andrea." She held her hand out for the money. As he handed it to her, he lightly rubbed his fingertips against her palm but she pretended that she didn't notice the suggestive touch. Dropping her change into the brown paper bag, she whispered "I'll be back to see you. Don't forget that I'm one of your good customers, Bob!" She picked up the bag and walked very seductively out the door, knowing that the high heels and tight skirt made her ass look very sexy. She walked outside and climbed behind the steering wheel of her new convertible - with temporary Virginia tags. Opening her purse, she pulled out the pint bottle that she'd just stolen, ignoring the exposed pistol in her still open purse. She opened the bottle and swallowed a mouthful of the liquor. As the dark liquor burned it's way down her sensitive throat, she lit a cigarette and stared at the liquor store; knowing that she could've robbed him so easily. Only problem was that he definitely would remember her; and would easily be able to pick her out of a Washington DC police lineup. In the old days, she wouldn't have played with him. She would've just burst in, pointed the gun at him, emptied the cash drawer and ran out. If the cashier resisted - well, that's why she'd originally been sentenced to Death Row. In the old days, the cashier wouldn't have re-acted to her the way that Bob just did. The cashier would've looked at his new "customer" very suspicious, his hand never far from the alarm and hidden gun. That's because in the old days, Andrea wasn't a sexy, beautiful tall woman, with tight form-fitting clothes and a seductive 'let's fuck' personality. In the old days, she was a male convict named Robert Williams who just happened to spend several years on Death Row in the cell adjacent to John Augustus' cell. Four weeks ago, Robert Williams became Andrea Bell permanently - twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Thanks to John Augustus and his money. Prior to sharing adjacent cells in the same prison's Death Row, they were both criminals but at different "social and managerial" levels. John Augustus was a rich and powerful gang boss who was given the death penalty for ordering several people's death while Bob Williams was a petty liquor store robber who went too far on a couple of botched robberies. John schemed, ordered and planned illegal acts while Bob committed unplanned robberies under the influence of booze. They knew each other only because they were placed in adjoining cells on Death Row. Bob wasn't the sort of person that John would've associated with on the outside world, but under the tight and restrictive security of Death Row, they became best friends. Two very dissimilar men who could talk and joke with each other, supporting each other as they both waited for their individual dates to sit in the electric chair. Unwilling to accept his court-decided fate, Augustus used his still powerful outside influence to have a Chinese magician's grandson kidnapped by his former gang. He used the grandson's life to convince the magician to invoke some ancient centuries old Chinese rituals - rituals that would cumulate in a body exchange. It wouldn't be a complete body exchange - more of a transfer because it only went one way - a person's soul, memory, and personality could be moved into another person's body. John would escape the electric chair by transferring into someone else's body. The transfer had some very severe limitations. It could only be into a female host body, the female host body had to be chosen by the evening stars position using obscure astrological calculations, the departed client body - the transferee - would die when the exchange became permanent, and it took over three weeks to complete the exchange. When the female host body was in the geographic location specified by a complex mathematical formula based upon the star's position, and the location of the transferee, the exchange could be started. When the stars were in the right position, the transferee had to take some of the Chinaman's herbs. Then that night, the transfer would start. During the first sleep cycle, the transferee would assume control of the host body for one hour before returning to their original body. Every day, the transferee could stay one more hour in the host body, until the twentieth-four day when the transfer would become permanent. Augustus wanted the transfer for himself, but after discovering the limitations of winding up in a female body and not really trusting the Chinaman's somewhat unwilling participation, he became a little nervous. So he wanted a test. Using his next-cell friend as a guinea pig, Augustus tested the Chinaman's magic on Bob Williams. Williams leaped at the opportunity to cheat death, not caring that he would soon be a woman. Williams had been in and out of prisons all his life, learning the hard way as a young boy in reform school that prisons have their own social pecking order and means to obtain sexual relief. In his teenage years, the slender boy had quickly became another reform school prisoner's girlfriend, learning to service his new mate who protected Bob from other prisoners who wanted the same thing - Bob's tight ass and warm mouth. Bob's boyfriend quickly taught Bob to pretend to be the female gender when Bob was in his presence; and to personally enjoy the new role expected of him. After that first time behind bars, Bob used that reform school experience to make his subsequent jailhouse visits more pleasurable for him. So, living the rest of someone else's life as a woman wasn't that much of a psychological problem for Williams. Bob Williams lucked out in his body exchange. Her name was Andrea Bell. Andrea was a painter - an artist who had rented a remote farm house in the Virginia mountains, little realizing that the house was at the location specified by the star's position. And that she was destined to be the host to someone that would take over her body. She took a year's lease on the house and moved into it, putting away the very professional clothes that she normally wore. Her appearance had always been very prim and proper, from her pulled back hair bun, to her choice of clothes that hid her shapely body behind clothes that a minister's wife would approve of. She wore plain glasses in public because she liked the way the glasses toned down her facial shape - making her seem less beautiful and less attractive to those horny men that kept leering at her. She wore a phony wedding ring to also keep men from hitting on her. Although she had a pretty face, and a shapely body, Andrea did everything she could to hide her attractiveness. The first couple of days in the house, Andrea was befriended by some near-by neighbors - a retired couple named Ralph and Martha Emerson. Andrea reminded them of their married daughter and Andrea was reminded by them of her distant family. Then the transfer started - increasing the length of time that Williams was in control of her body by one hour per day. Williams would go to sleep in his cell and wake up in Andrea's body in her bed at the farm. When his daily transfer time into her body was finished for the day, Andrea's body would fall asleep again and the real Andrea would resume control of her body when she woke up while Bob would wake up in his incarcerated male body. At first Andrea thought that she was masturbating in her sleep because her body would be tender with obvious signs of masturbation when she would wake up. Then she thought that she was sleep-walking because she would wake up in the morning with her lips coated with fresh lipstick, her short plain fingernails coated with fingernail polish; and the farmhouse doors that had been locked from the inside were unlocked. The real kicker came when she woke up in her car - but she'd fell asleep hours earlier in her bed. The car was parked on the side of the road a couple of miles from the farm. She was fully dressed, her car engine was warm and there were fresh cigarette butts in the ashtray, coated with the same color lipstick that was on her lips. And she didn't smoke. Confused by what was going on, she fled to the Emerson's house, querying them about the potential of poltergeists in the old farmhouse. Too terrified to go back home that night, she stayed with the old couple, going to sleep in their daughter's empty bedroom. Because he suffered from insomnia and couldn't sleep that night, Ralph observed a different Andrea - or at least there was something very different about her - as she entered his kitchen later that night. This was a different Andrea with more changes than just her Utah accent being replaced by a very real Brooklyn accent. This was an Andrea that smoked, drank whisky straight from the bottle, lightly flirted with the old man, and wasn't terrified any more. Glancing at her watch as if she had to be somewhere that late at night and ignoring his recommendations, this Andrea drove back to her farmhouse in the middle of the night. Ralph visited the farmhouse the next day to discover several strange men hanging around the farmhouse, guarding Andrea or the person that he knew as Andrea. Ralph didn't know it, but these were men that Augustus' gangster brother provided to keep the host body from running away before the exchange was completed. They were led by a man called Big Al, who looked and acted like the typical stereotyped gangster. They were as out of place on a rural Virginia farm as a fisherman wearing a suit. Every day as Bob's time in Andrea's body increased so that Bob was in control longer during the daylight hours, Ralph kept seeing the different Andrea rather than the girl that he had originally met. This new Andrea was a woman that liked to wear tube tops, tight skirts, and changed her overall appearance and personality so that she looked like a slut. During the times that Bob wasn't strutting around in her body, the real Andrea would wake up in her bed, discovering that she was still a prisoner of Big Al and his men. She suspected that they were fucking her while she slept - the dried cum and bruises all over her body were the clues; but she really didn't know what was occurring to her while she "slept" more and more each day. During one free period when she was allowed to roam the upper floors of her farmhouse, she hid some video cameras in her bedroom and bathroom, recording a video of herself - or the person that she called her alter ego - being a very willing participant in fucking one of the guards. Terrified at seeing her own body acting so wantonly, she tried to escape but they captured her and kept her tied to the bed from then on. As punishment, the walls beside her bed were covered with photographs of Andrea's body - taken when her alter ego was in control of her body - willing fucking and sucking every one of the guards. Some of the pictures showed her engaged in sex with one guard at a time while in other pictures, her three orifices were the recipients of group sex. There was one picture positioned so that she could clearly see the details where her naked body was bouncing up and down on a man's cock while her hand directing a stream of pumping cum from another man's cock onto her grinning cum-coated face. Just the thought of her lips touching a man's cock was enough to make her gag, much less to know that her alter ego frequently participated in those debaucheries. She managed to escape into the woods once but when her body refused to go any further and went to sleep, her alter ego returned her to her prison. Then on the last day when the real Andrea only had one more hour to exist, the new Andrea taped a video message to the real Andrea, telling her what was occurring to her. When the real Andrea fell into her last sleep, Williams's body died in prison as Williams assumed permanent control of Andrea's body and identity. After turning the deceased body of Robert Williams over to a mortuary managed by a Chinese family, the prison doctor closed the file on Williams and his weird fatal sleep disorder. The Chinese mortuary secretly moved the dead man's body to Virginia and used their mystical powers to capture the deceased woman's spirit into the dead man's body, unbeknownst to either Augustus or Williams. The old Chinaman had methods to keep the real Andrea's spirit from disappearing forever. The new Andrea went wild, spending the old Andrea's money to change her appearance, getting away from the original Andrea's prim and proper look to a new wild and sexy look. The new Andrea immediately threw away the old Andrea's "schoolmarm" wardrobe, then bought new clothes that showed off her body curves, and changed her hair color and hairstyle to display a more modern sultry appearance. While she still looked slutty, she was a beautiful slut. With Augustus' lawyer's assistance, the new Andrea Bell visited Augustus in prison once, showing her new body and appearance to her benefactor. Seeing his former cellmate in a new body proved to John that the old man's magic worked and that he could escape his rapidly approaching execution. The new Andrea discovered that she was an extremely horny woman and couldn't get enough sex. She enjoyed her new female appearance and used every cosmetic and clothing trick to make herself look more attractive. After the bodyguard's left the farmhouse, she spent her nights in bars, picking up men to take back to her city hotel room, enjoying the difference that a pussy and boobs made in her new life. The farmhouse that Andrea vacated after the exchange, was cleaned by the Chinese owners and rented to a young woman named Candice Morgan. A woman that didn't know the fate of the previous occupant or the fate destined for her. Candice or Candy as her friends knew her. She was a young, gorgeous, tanned, tall, green-eyed blonde, with an well-endowed, slim, curvaceous 38-24-36 body. A woman that looked like she belonged on one of those television shows where everyone wears nothing but bathing suits all the time. A woman with the type of body and natural looks that would cause men to turn around and watch her as she walked by. A body and face that caused women to be jealous because her beauty was so easy and natural. A woman that truly deserved to be nicknamed Candy. She was married to Mickey Morgan- the lucky bastard - who was finishing up his last job out-of-state and would soon be joining her at the farm. ****** Hanging on Augustus' wall was the calendar with the dates that John was using to determine the progress of his transfer. Using the dates given him by the Chinese man, John had marked the calendar in different colors. Day's one through twenty-four were the days that Williams made his exchange. Days twenty-five through fifty-three were the four weeks that Williams had spent in his new female body. Today was day fifty-four. Days fifty-four through eighty-four were the thirty days that John still had to wait, before the conditions were right for him to begin his exchange into his future body. Day eighty-five being the first day that the transfer could start because of the position of the stars. Days eighty-five through one hundred and nine were the twenty-four days that it would take for him to complete his transfer - if he lived that long. Hanging on the wall beside the calendar, were three photographs of Candice, all taken when she wasn't aware that she was being photographed. One was a full-length shot as she walked across a shopping center parking lot, showing how fantastic she looked even in casual clothes. Another photograph showed her stupendous body wearing nothing but a skimpy bikini as she watered the flowers around the privacy of the farmhouse. And the third, was a close-up photograph of her beautiful face - smiling as Candice talked to one of the town shopkeepers. With her centerfold body, thick, pouty lips and big, innocent looking expressive emerald-green eyes, she had a youthful body that just screamed "fuck me!" John glanced down at his hand, seeing the blotchy pale skin from three years of being behind bars, and the sagging flesh from his recent weight loss. Staring at her face again, he tried to imagine what he would look like when he was in control of her body. He know that he wouldn't wear all those ruffles and skimpy clothes. Rather he pictured himself projecting a stronger image when he took over her body. An image of her dressed as a black leather dominatrix flitted through his imagination, causing him to groan and sit down heavily on his cot. Her totally feminine and sex kitten body wasn't the body that Augustus wanted for himself. He really wanted his old Peter Lorre type body, only his old body's deteriorating health was unacceptable. If he was going to exchange bodies, he wanted a Cary Grant, John Wayne or Arnold Schwarznegger type body - a very rugged masculine body. But as he told himself - when you're a beggar, you take what you can get. As someone formerly high up in the mob social structure, he could easily buy all the pussy that he wanted back then. Or they would give it to him just because of who he was - a powerful and rich gang boss. His time in a pussy-less prison was always under the tight confines of the death row, so he'd never experienced sex with a man - except for the one convict that gave him a quick blowjob before John wound up under the tighter security on Death Row. Augustus wasn't looking forward to becoming a woman. His desire was to be pardoned, to walk away from the prison, and find a little farmhouse where he could retire - someplace where he or his brother's criminal exploits weren't known. A place where he could grow his vegetables and sit around the local diner drinking coffee with his neighbors. A place where he was free to enjoy the last few years of his life, safe from the gangster revenge that took so many of his predecessors. Chapter 2 - The robbery The naked woman sat up on the bed in the dark motel room, taking a moment to balance herself as she stood unsteadily on her bare feet. The small amount of street light coming through an uncurtained motel window revealed that her body was coated with a light coat of sweat and her dark patch of pubic hair was matted with drying cum. She picked up the overnight bag that she'd placed on the room's single cheap vinyl chair when they first checked into the motel room two hours ago. She carried the bag into the bathroom, shutting the door hard, not caring if she woke the snoring man in the bed that she'd just vacated. Dropping the bag on the floor and squatting on the commode, she peed as she lit a cigarette. As soon as her cigarette was glowing, she poked through the bag, stirring up the clothes until she found the pint bottle of whiskey that had been hidden in the bag earlier. She broke the seal on the whisky bottle and removed the ever- constant cigarette just long enough to fill her mouth with a big mouthful of the whiskey. As the strong taste of the whiskey coated her mouth, she tilted her head back, shutting her eyes as she prepared to swallow the liquid. She was still slightly drunk from the alcohol consumed earlier in the evening but craved more of that devil's brew that she so enjoyed. Wiping herself quickly between the legs, she stood and stared at her messed hair and naked body in the bathroom mirror. Her smeared makeup made her eyes look garishly made up, and the bloodshot eyes from her almost constant drinking binges transformed her naturally beautiful face into a ostentatious- looking face that only a person into punk rock bands could appreciate. She'd quickly learned that it's hard work to be beautiful. Staring at her unattractive appearance, her eyes squinted as a curl of smoke drifted up from the cigarette dangling from her thickly coated crimson lips, aggravating her bloodshot eyes a little more. Over the last couple of weeks, she'd lost some weight and it was beginning to show on her - her face was looking a little gaunt and her skin was getting loose. The female body had always been naturally skinny, but the new Andrea's combination of constant drinking binges, not eating, staying out late in bars, and slutty, extremely promiscuous new habits were beginning to show - she was looking thin and a little burned-out. Over the last several weeks, the body had been subjected to an arduous lifestyle of booze, beds, cigarettes, bars, beds and more booze. The alcohol's warm fire burning in her belly restored some of her energy. Feeling the rush from the booze, she swallowed another mouthful, then stared at the image of the woman's body reflected back by the mirror. The ever-constant cigarette bobbed up and down in her mouth as she whispered out loud to herself "Andrea, my dear, you can't hold your booze. You're one cheap date. Why couldn't I have met someone like you when I was younger and needing pussy?" Laughing silently at her self-depreciation, she turned the water on, soaped up a washcloth and spread her legs, placing one foot on the commode. Standing in that position, she wiped the dried cum and slight drainage still leaking from within her, with the warm washcloth as if it was a natural cleansing motion that she'd done all her life. Staring down at her chest, she saw the first signs of a bruise forming. Although she'd told the man "No hickeys", the man's limited foreplay had been concentrated on sucking on her chest and neck as his heavier, stronger body kept her pinned underneath him. He hadn't been as good a fuck as she originally thought he would be. After all, he had the stereotype build and appearance that's synonymous with good sex and ideal male fantasies. He was suave, tall, dark haired, well-groomed, had a sparkling personality, handsome, and had the ultimate clue to his sexual performance potential - long fat fingers. They had met in a bar and although she was already a little unsteady on her feet from her alcohol intake, something invisible clicked as they stared into each other eyes from across the room. She felt that deep and very enjoyable itch develop in her groin as she sized up the man - that signal that her new woman's body needed a man's cock and this was the man. He had confidently eased up to the bar beside her, glanced down at her exposed cleavage and introduced himself with the simple suggestion that they go back to his motel room for a mutual grope session. It was the same thing Andrea was going to suggest, but she was going to play the shy woman role for at least thirty seconds first. She responded to his offer with a wink. Then the man offered to pay her to service him. For a second, she considered slapping him for mistaking her for a prostitute - she was no more slutty dressed tonight than normal. When she considered that she wanted to fuck him anyway, she rationalized her acceptance by deciding that two hundred dollars was two hundred dollars more than what she had now. She'd driven him back to his motel in her new convertible. He'd been a little worried from the way that she was somewhat unsteady on her feet and slurred her words, but she resolved any concerns that he might've had over her possible impaired driving ability, by hiking her skirt up and guiding his hand up between her thighs. Before she ever started the engine, he knew that she wasn't wearing panties and she got him to forget about her driving. At the motel, she found out the hard way that all that glitters isn't gold. He'd been a lousy fuck. Get undressed, get in bed, spread your legs, and here it comes was his style. Acting as if he didn't know the meaning of the word 'foreplay', he forced his hard but small cock into her and quickly shoved a small load of jism into her before her internal lubrication kicked in. This wasn't the first time in either of her lives that she'd participated in a thirty-second fuck. One of the old jail boyfriends from the days when she'd been Robert Williams, was notorious for pre-ejaculation, but there was a distinct difference between being a male or female recipient - her new female body wasn't satisfied with the quick slam-blam-snore type of seduction. As soon as the last spasm of jism trickled from this man's semi- hard cock, he rolled off of her just-getting-warmed-up body. Propping himself up on the pillows, he ignored her teasing hand and pleading voice as he flipped on the television set. Rolling over and digging her fingernails into the bedsheet as that deep itch still burned within her crotch, she thought about leaving him, but the gnawing crotch itch convinced her to decide to give him another chance. After all, a cock in bed is better than two cocks in a bar. Thirty minutes later, she admitted to herself that it was better the second time. Not much but forty-five seconds are much better than thirty seconds, she declared to him in a sarcastic tone. To entice him into a better performance the second time, she'd played with him, rubbing her body over his body, nibbling on his neck, tonguing his ear, sucking his flaccid cock and even probed his asshole with her tongue. But, he kept the television on and pretended to be more interested in the info-commercial. She grabbed the remote to turn the television off, resulting him getting a little rough with her - which she didn't mind as she noticed that he became slightly erect from his physical dominance of her. Changing her bedside manner to that of a misbehaving slut that had to be lightly punished, she soon had his small cock sticking straight up. Feeling satisfied with the change in his now-erect cock, she insisted on a little foreplay, but just as before, he revealed that his mutual sexual skills were extremely self-centered. Although he lasted a few seconds longer, her hungry female body still hadn't been satisfied. As he rolled off of her insatiated body after the second quick time, he curled up in a little ball in the middle of the bed and fell asleep. That's when she got up and went to the bathroom to pee and clean up. She didn't put the dress back on, but put on some jeans and a blouse from her bag that she'd learned to keep in her car's trunk for times like this. Looking at her face in the mirror, she noticed that her eyes were looking bloodshot and tired. Five minutes later, it was a different face reflected back from the mirror. In just a few weeks, the new Andrea had learned how to do a masterful makeup job with her new face and delicate features. The eyes now looked large and bright, accented with eyeshadow and mascara, her cheeks glowed with the blush of rouge, her lips were as red as cherries, perfectly shaped into a Cupid's bow pout. Satisfied with her face, she examined her profile as she brushed her lustrous hair. Andrea's hair was long, thick, and now a rich golden red color - a color that Robert Williams remembered had made the actress Ann Margaret stand out from the other women. A quick skillful touch of the brush and it was curling under slightly as it touched her shoulders. Her hands gathered her hair up and swept it up off the nape of her neck. Holding her hair up with one hand, she threaded a barrette through her hair and snapped it tight. Satisfied with her appearance, she slipped on a pair of tennis shoes. Looking at herself in the mirror, it looked like the old Andrea Bell, except for the different hair color. She strode into the bedroom, and turned the overhead light on, not caring if she woke the man up. As she packed her dress into her overnight bag, he woke up and rolled over. He lay on the bed and began playing with himself as he watched her. When she was packed, she picked up her purse and sat down on the bed beside him. "I've got to go. There's something else that I want to do tonight. You owe me some money." "Why don't you spend the rest of the night with me? We've still got some sex due me." he grinned sardonically as he stroked his cock. "Your exact words were - 'I'll pay you two hundred dollars if you'll let me fuck you'. I let you fuck me twice - using your interpretation of what it means to fuck - so you really owe me four hundred dollars." she smiled at him, using the same bland smile that she would give to a super market clerk. He changed hands, continuing his stroking as his other large, meaty hand wrapped around her small wrist. Holding her as he squeezed her wrist, he whispered "You're not going anywhere tonight and I'm not paying you a fucking penny. If you don't want your arm broken, you'll undress quickly and let me stick my cock up your ass." Her smile changed, as she cooed "At last you're showing that you've got some balls. I like a man that likes it rough. I was just joking about leaving. Let me do that for you." She shifted position on the bed slightly so that she was lying close to his very erect cock, while he continued to hold onto one of her wrists. She used her free hand to push his hand away from his cock and wrapped her small, slender hand around his cock as she continued the jacking motions on his cock. She slowly stroked his cock, letting her hand shift from the base of the shaft to the cockhead, then back to the bottom. After several slow strokes, she whispered in a very seductive voice "My hand's too dry. Let me lubricate my hand." She bowed her head over his cock, timing her approach to the downward stroke of her hand. Her mouth opened and her lips wrapped around his cockhead. As she teased his cockhead with her wet tongue, he groaned and released his grip on her other wrist. She pulled her lips away from his cockhead, a thin trail of drool dripping from her mouth, as her hand came back up, closing his foreskin over the wet cockhead. She repeated the downward thrust and the mouth lubrication, taking more of his cock into her mouth. As her hand slowly rose again on his shaft, she again pulled back. She whispered "Spread your legs and I'll give you a blowjob that you'll never forget." He groaned and scooted up on the bed, spreading his legs as he watched her shift position so that she was on the lower half of the bed, her head inches from his stiff erection. Her long fingernails were teasing his balls as she blew her warm, gentle breath on the slightly damp cockhead. He shut his eyes as her warm mouth wrapped around his cock, her tongue guiding his cock into her mouth and her hand wrapping around his balls. He arched his back slightly, lifting his ass off the bed as he arched to thrust his cock deeper into her mouth, knowing that he would force it all the way into her throat in the next several seconds. As her mouth eased down his shaft, he grinned, enjoying the feeling of his cockhead rubbing against that floppy thing in her throat. She pulled her mouth back in a teasing manner until only the cockhead was within her mouth as her hands teased his balls. Then she lived up to her promise - to give him a blowjob that he'd never forget. She squeezed his balls as hard as she could while biting hard on his cock's shaft, lightly tasting his blood as her teeth penetrated his skin. As the pain roared through his body, his only thoughts were for a quick death. He didn't feel her release his cock or balls as he curled up into a ball and began throwing up from the pain. He didn't see her open his wallet and remove all of his money. He didn't see her pick up her purse and bag or see her walk out of the motel room. He was too busy curling up and screaming from the pain, trying to find a position where the tremendous pain would stop. She put her overnight bag in her car trunk, still hearing his loud screams behind the closed door, knowing that she only had a few more seconds before the motel manager would call the police. She pulled out on the main road and drove away as she lit a cigarette. Resting the cigarette on the ashtray full of old butts, she fumbled with the whiskey bottle cap, wanting to rinse the acrid taste of his cock from her mouth. She filled her mouth with the whiskey and rinsed her mouth with a gargle motion, then swallowed the liquid that she used as a mouthwash. Rapidly filling her mouth with another large gulp, she also downed that mouthful. As the liquor cleaned her taste buds and started its magical fire within her belly; she flipped open her purse, pulling out the loaded pistol that she usually carried. Laying the pistol on the seat, she looked at the time, knowing that she had time to visit her new friend, Bob, just as he closed up his liquor store for the night. ****** It was four hours later. Andrea Bell was sitting in an all-night diner, sipping on coffee and nervously smoking a cigarette. The diner was a hundred and fifty miles away from the motel where she'd left the screaming asshole that didn't want to pay his debts - and from where she'd left Bob. The liquor store clerk's face lit up when she came in, just as he was getting ready to lock the front door. He smiled when she suggested that he lock up and they go into the storeroom for awhile. In the storeroom, she saw the video recorder that controlled the cameras and knew that the conditions were right. Like a fucking fool, Bob resisted the robbery. When she left, an unconscious Bob was lying on the floor, the floor coated with blood from his head wound - two shots fired from her pistol. He thought that he could overpower her smaller body so she didn't hesitate to pump a couple of bullets into him. Not only did she take about four thousand dollars from Bob's cash drawer and safe, but also she filled her trunk with a couple of cases of her favorite whiskey. After packing her car trunk with the stolen whiskey bottles, she removed the video tapes from the video recorder, then purposely set off the alarm as she went out the door - knowing that the alarm would bring medical help for Bob. The tapes and her pistol were somewhere on the bottom of the Potomac River as she drove away from Washington. She was at the diner, not so much to get something to eat, but to get out of town. As soon as she pulled the trigger, she knew that it was wrong and could lead to a new jail sentence if she was captured. And she didn't need the money because there still was a lot of money in Andrea's bank account. It was the alcohol that caused her to do it - it wasn't the thrill that she got from a successful robbery, she lied to herself. She knew that she had to quit drinking so much, but also knew that she couldn't do without the burn and wonderful rush that the alcohol gave her body. She knew that she'd been living hard and fast the last couple of weeks, but that was because she was celebrating her escape from prison, and her new life - her new identity - her new sex - and her new freedom. But the hard and fast living was quickly showing on her and she needed to slow down. She needed to relax and learn how to live a more sedate lifestyle - as a woman of leisure. She unfolded the road map and looked at where she currently was. For thirty seconds, she stared at the map, and then her face lit up with a smile as she folded the map. She was only twenty miles from the prison where she'd spent her last three years as a man. Only half an hour from where Officer Mahoney lived. Smiling at her memory of how nice Officer Mahoney's tight, firm ass looked, she decided that his town was as good a town as any town to wait on Augustus' transfer. ****** "I want my will changed. Cut my brother out of everything. And I want an accident to occur to one of those pissy-ass in-laws that are always hanging around his house. Nothing fatal, just something to show him that he doesn't have me completely by the balls yet. I'm still in charge and I'll show him that I won't give up without a fight." yelled an angry John Augustus. His general build and facial structure was so similar to the deceased actor Peter Lorre, that most people who met him expected him to be a psychotic killer. He was almost a clone except for his neatly trimmed beard and baldhead, but his deep barrel-chest voice wasn't the peek squeaked voice that people expected from Lorre. Recent security changes at the prison had relaxed the previously tight security. Where the prisoners on Death Row previously were only able to meet visitors under security conditions expected for someone like the infamous Doctor Lector, the new relaxed security policies now permitted the lawyer to sit in the same room with his client. Ignoring his client's ranting, the lawyer replied "I've got your execution delayed one last time. They were going to sentence you to die in thirty days, but I talked them into ninety days with the understanding that we won't appeal any more and that your health is failing. They would rather see you die of natural causes than execute you. A natural death doesn't get the standard group of protesters out front, trying to get their political perspectives on Page One of every newspaper in the state." "Yeah, well, I'm going to escape both their chair and the Grim Reaper. I've got a date with a new body. Wish it wasn't a fucking cunt. I'm not looking forward to spending my next lifetime as a blonde bimbo. I can't make up my which is worse - dying or being stuck in a cunt's body." "I haven't seen Miss Bell since she came to visit you, but she seemed to enjoy her new life." "He was already a fucking queer. But I ain't and that's the difference. I trust Bob more than I trust my own brother and I don't trust Bob at all. My own brother - the fucking, scheming asshole. What else has he been doing to me while I've been in here?" Stopping suddenly, John clutched his chest and balanced himself against the wall. The lawyer jumped to his feet and turned toward the locked door, but John's husky whisper "Stop!" caused the lawyer to pause. Turning to face his client, John eased into a chair, his face extremely pale showing his weakness. He rested for a couple of seconds then whispered "I'm going downhill fast. I may not make my date with Candice. Hold off on my contract on my brother's family until after my death." ****** Candy always slept without any clothes on, preferring the sensation of snuggling up next to her naked husband, Mickey. Tonight and the last several nights, her husband was still two thousand miles away; and she needed the physical relief that his large cock provided her. She was lying curled up on the bed in the fetal position, wishing that Mickey was curled up around her, his hairy chest pressed against her back, and her hot sweaty body cradled against his body. Wishing that his arm was wrapped around her, holding her close to him; that his warm breath was ticking her neck; and most of all, that his cock was rubbing against her ass. Knowing that she wouldn't be able to sleep unless she got some relief, she closed her eyes and cupped one breast in her hand, stroking and kneading the breast, feeling her nipples slowly become erect from her teasing. Shifting her hand to her boob, she whispered aloud to herself in a husky voice, trying to sound masculine, pretending it was her husband's hand that was probing her "Yes, you like this, don't you. You want me to fuck you, don't you? Admit that you're a cunt and you've got to have my dick. Tell me that you want me to fuck you!" Stretching her upper leg and shifting it backwards to spread her legs wider open, she whimpered in her normal voice "Please, please, fuck me. I want you." Her hand motion as she stroked her boobs increased speed as she began aggressively kneading herself. Changing hands, she trailed her hand down to her groin, pressing into the soft, curly golden- blonde hairs, as she began stroking there also. She groaned as she parted her legs further, lifting her leg slightly, her finger prodding around the tender lips hidden behind the golden pubic hair. Whispering to herself in her husky masculine-sounding voice, she loudly groaned "Come on, you fucking bitch. Spread those legs. I know you want my cock. You're one super horny bitch that can't get enough of my cock, aren't you, bitch!" Lifting her leg, she pretended that it was her husband's big cock pressing against her. In her daydream, she imagined that she reached between her legs and guided his cock with her hand, guiding it to her, as she rubbed his imaginary cock between her legs. Using her finger, she rubbed it in a slow, circular motion against her clitoris as she whispered his name "Mickey" in her normal voice. Sitting up suddenly, she mumbled "Shit. Where's he at when I need him?" She scooted across the bed, jerking open the nightstand drawer, removing a dildo and jar of Vaseline. She jerked the jar top from the jelly and liberally coated the dildo head. Rolling over on her back into her previous position, she placed the dildo head against her clitoris and tightly clinched her legs, enjoying the feel of the hard rubber dildo pressing against her tender flesh. Returning one hand to her nipple, she used the other hand to move the dildo a fraction of an inch every three or four seconds, enjoying the slow foreplay. She adjusted the dildo head so it was right in the middle of her vagina lips, then rubbed it back and forth slowly across the opening, enjoying the sensual feel of the hard substance coating her most sensitive body parts with the cool jelly. "Almost as good as the real thing, isn't it bitch? Only it can only fuck you, not rape you. You like to be raped, don't you, you fucking cunt. But you really want to be fucked tonight, don't you - you horny, little cock sucker. Are you ready for my big fucking cock? I want to feel my hot and thick cock inside your wet pussy!" she said hoarsely in her increasing louder masculine voice. "Yes. Take me", she whimpered in her normal voice as she rubbed the dildo's cockhead harder against her opening. Her pussy lips were already wet from being rubbed so the dildo entered her with little effort. She groaned as the cockhead entered her and her vagina lips wrapped around the shaft. "Slowly, take me slowly. You've got such a fucking big cock. It won't fit into me. Don't hurt me - please, don't hurt me. I'll do anything you want, and I mean it. I'll let you fuck me but please don't hurt me." she groaned in her normal female voice to her imaginary male lover, as she shifted her legs slightly to accommodate the dildo inside her; her face all aglow with excitement from the masturbation. She pressed the dildo deeper, feeling her internal muscles gripping it and working it deep inside her. Releasing her grip on the dildo with her hand, she rolled on her back, cupping both breasts as she used her vagina muscles to grip the realistic feeling dildo. She continued kneading her breasts, enjoying the full feeling of the almost fully sheathed dildo completely inside her. "That feels so good, dear." she whispered as she began moving her hips in a slow, circular pattern, holding the dildo inside her. Spreading her legs, she trailed one set of fingertips down her lightly sweat-coated body. Grasping the end of the dildo, she began to slowly piston the fake manhood deep into her innermost body cavity, varying the rhythm of her strokes to intensify the feeling. She began talking loud, using her normal voice, saying works like "fuck" and "suck", as her heat of passion increased. Her voice volume kept increasing until she was screaming at the top of her voice, screaming phrases such as "YES!!! Give it to me! Oh, god! I love it, I love it! Oh, Mickey, your hard cock feels so good! Make it hurt!" Her hand was pumping in a frenzy as she stroked the dildo in and out of her wet, shuddering pussy with complete abandon. She grunted and groaned loudly as one hand on her breasts squeezed her turgid nipples between the thumbs and forefingers sharply, painfully teasing the sensitive flesh. She'd been screaming loudly all along, but her voice changed pitch and intensity as she let go of the dildo and grabbed the bed sheets, holding onto the bed as the orgasm roared through her body. She screamed a loud continuous scream as her body contracted and jerked. Having reached that state of nirvana that she wanted, she rolled over and curled back up, enjoying the feel of the dildo still buried inside her. As she drifted off to sleep, she knew that her relaxed body would let the dildo fall out, as she slept. If it didn't - well, nothing like starting the morning off with a smile on your face, she thought. ****** Jeff Conway threw another chunk of wood onto the roaring campfire and took a sip of the whisky, before passing the bottle to the man that was staring at the fire. Scotty Walsh was a spitting younger image of his father - Clive Walsh. The old man owned the local junkyard and only shaved when he had to go to court to get his troublesome son out of jail. The son only shaved when he took a bath - shaving once every couple of weeks. Both men looked as if they could easily get hired as actors or technical consultants on the set of the old Deliverance movie. "What do you think?" asked Jeff. "Never heard nothing like it before. She's got a set of lungs that would win the hog-calling contest. I thought Denise got vocal when she got meat rammed into her, but this woman's easily got Denise beat. Does she do it every night?" "I don't know. After that first time that I saw her naked and masturbating herself on a blanket, while she was sunning herself in the privacy of her backyard; I've sneaked over into her yard about six or seven nights over the last month. I've heard her just about the same time every night. I'm not sure if she's getting fucked or slaughtered." "She sure wants it, doesn't she?" asked a grinning Scotty as a trace of drool started easing down his unshaven face. "Yeah. What do you want to do?" asked Jeff as he re-passed the whiskey bottle to his friend. "I don't know. I'm on probation and Dad's watching me like a hawk. If he knew I was up here with you, he'd beat the shit outa me and chain me to a wrecked car the way he does our junkyard guard dog. But I'll figure out some way to get me some of that pussy. Next time that I can sneak away and come out here with you, let's get closer." ****** Candy was walking through the house wearing only her bikini bottoms, ignoring the gentle swing of her breasts as she searched for something to read that she hadn't already read. She usually preferred to walk around completely naked, but she'd been out in the yard sunning earlier and had stripped off her bikini top as soon as she entered the safety of the house. Remembering the pile of books in one of the bedrooms that had been left by the previous occupants, she decided to see if there was anything interesting in the packed boxes. Opening one box, she discovered an art book with some papers sticking out. Examining the papers, she discovered a copy of a lease for the farmhouse made out to Andrea Bell. Skimming through the terms of the lease, Candy was surprised to see that the lease was for one year and still had about nine months before it was up. Putting the papers back in the book, she thought that she would ask her husband to check to see how that was possible, when she saw what she was really searching for - a old copy of Cosmo that she hadn't read yet. Chapter 3 - Trailer Park Slut The harsh ringing of the cheap doorbell woke Greg Mahoney up. Sitting upright, he glanced at the clock, observing it was only noon. Working shifts at the prison, he was used to sleeping during the day and working nights. Shaking the sleep from his head, he stood up and stretched as the unexpected visitor pressed the doorbell again. Yelling, "Ok, I'm coming." he slipped on a pair of shorts. He strode through the narrow hallway of his trailer, feeling his anger increase as he wondered who the asshole was at his door. The sign posted on his door, explicitly stated that he was a shift worker and solicitors weren't allowed. Jerking open the front door, he stared at the unknown smiling woman standing on his doorstep. She was wearing one of those cut-off halter-top T-shirts that revealed every square inch of skin between the bottom of her boobs and her belly button. Around her waist, she wore a blue-jean cut-off shorts, exposing her long, shapely legs supported by a pair of three-inch red high heel shoes. Her curly mane of red hair glistened in the sunlight. He'd never seen her before, knowing that he would remember someone that looked as pretty as she did. She removed her sunglasses, smiling at him with her beautiful gray-green eyes, giving him a moment to notice her bright pouty red lipsticked mouth, and lightly highlighted cheeks, showing her delicate bone structure. She flicked her tongue across her lips, making her lips glisten more as she softly asked "Hope I didn't wake you. I moved into the trailer two lots down yesterday and I need some strong muscles. Saw your car and hoped someone was home. I've got a beer keg in the back of my car and I can't lift it out by myself. I'll give you a beer, if you'll help me. I'm your new neighbor - Andrea Bell from Idaho." ****** The old Chinaman was down on his knees as if he was praying when one of his grandsons entered the room. The younger man waited patiently until the elder family patriarch acknowledged his presence with the simple questions "How is she?" Bowing his head respectively, the younger man replied "Very angry. She keeps screaming at us and demanding to know where her real body is. She doesn't recognize that we're the good guys yet." His face formed a small grin before the elder statesman responded "Are we the good guys? It was my ancient ritual that stole her body. It was another ancient ritual that put her soul and memory into the body of the dead prisoner - into the former body of the man that now inhabits her body. If I was in her shoes - correction - If I was her, I wouldn't think that we were the good guys either." Motioning to his grandson to help him to his feet, the grandson helped his grandfather up as the younger man suggested "As soon as our guest calms down, I'll try to explain to her what happened to her and why. How you were forced to do this to save the life of our cousin and maybe she will see why she should cooperate with us. After all when we get our cousin back, you can put her back into her body." The old man raised his head, allowing the grandson to stare into the old man's pitch black eyes "Once a soul leaves a body, I can't put it back. I can move it to other bodies but can never send it back into a former body. She's cursed to never return to her body." ****** The car drove slowly down the dark lane, the driver looking at the different addresses on the trailers, trying to read them in the dim light from the few overhead lights. The car stopped at a completely dark trailer and waited for about thirty seconds, before backing up and pulling into the small parking spot beside the dark trailer. The car door opened and a small, slender woman stepped out of the car. In the dark, it was difficult to tell much about her except that she wore a trenchcoat. She knocked on the door and waited. When she didn't hear any response, she tried the doorknob and found the door was unlocked. She opened the door and stepped barely inside the dark trailer, keeping the door opened. She searched the wall with her hand, looking for a light switch. She found one and flicked it, but the lights didn't come on. Turning around,