My Pig Boyfriend free porn video

My boyfriend is a pig. I mean, he didn't devolve into one overnight. At first everything was fine. We dated a couple of times, he seemed like a normal adult male. Sure, he was in his thirties and still rented. He worked as a carpenter. I was willing to overlook that by his thirties he should have been on his own or running a small company instead of working on someone else's crew. And of course, his profession was seasonal. So, his company shut down just after Thanksgiving. And he started spending almost every night at my place. Two weeks later I found out that he's lost his apartment for non-payment of rent. I had no idea what he was spending his unemployment on. I let him stay at my apartment during the day, but something had to change, pronto. I was unloading on my friend Monique at work one day at lunch, explaining what a loser I'd hooked up with. Momo had a smile on her face as I complained. I thought maybe she was looking down on me, so I asked her, "Didn't you have a problem with your husband just like this? Shiftless, never wanted to work?" She shifted, tossing her braids over her shoulder. "Girl, you know I did. But I found a way to get him out of my bed, so I could get some fresh meat in there. And I put him in his place at the same time. You want to see?" I was very curious as to how she handled her problem so I said as much. She just stood up, told me to follow her and walked to the customer service department of the bank we worked at. She navigated the cubicle farm until we made our way to the sparse section at the back of the department where the new hires worked. Most of them didn't work out, customer service is harder than it seems. She led me over to this young black woman's desk. She might have been the prime example of 'not going to work out'. Her clothes were a little revealing to be working in a professional environment. Tight, plunging neckline revealing too much of her mountains of boob and the corresponding Grand Canyon of cleavage. She had an impossibly tiny waist, a set of baby-making hips and a bubble butt to match. Her face was well made up, but a tad excessive, with big, pink lips painted on her ebony features. Her hair was piled high in loose black curls that ran down to her mid-back like a refugee from the 1980's. She had dragon-lady nails that were obviously giving her trouble when she used the keyboard and mouse. "Barbeesha, set your phone to not ready after you're done there," Monique ordered. "Momo, what does this have to do with your husband?" I whispered to her. "Baby, this is my husband." I looked at her like she was crazy. "Isn't your husband a steel worker?" "My husband WAS a steel worker. But he kept chasing tail after work. So, I made him over into Barbeesha. Barbeesha is just the type of slut my husband liked. Isn't that right, honey?" Barbeesha blushed so hard I could see it against her dark skin. "No, no, honey. Use your words. I want Judy to hear it from your own lying mouth." "I am Monique's husband. I can't say my name, she won't let me," Barbeesha said in a high, squeaky, baby-doll voice. I was stunned, and lagged behind as Monique walked away. I had to hurry to catch up. "Momo, wait up," I called after her. "Now, I met your husband once, he was like six foot six. There's no way Barbeesha is even five foot six." "Oh, she's surely that in those slutty platform high heels she likes so much." "You know what I mean. No course of hormones, no surgery could make Hank into Barbeesha." "Oh, I didn't do things that way. I used... well, I guess you could call it a type of magic. I'll get it for you by end of day." I went back to my desk in a daze. What in the Hell was going on here? Just as I was shutting my computer down for the day, Monique came up to my desk and handed me a thumb drive. "Here you go, honey. There's a program on this called MasterPC. Just execute it. It'll install on your computer and there's a graphical interface that's fairly intuitive to use. Load your boyfriend into it and play around. Or load your name into it and play. Just remember to back yourself up first so you can go back to being you. Or change the reality setting so that everyone but you conforms to the new you. That's what I did." I looked at Monique, every inch the professional, but statuesque as Hell. Nearly six feet in her stocking feet, a professional heel made her tower over some of the men at the bank. "What do you mean? You turned your husband into a customer service bimbo? And you made yourself into, what? You've always been beautiful." "That's just it, baby. I used to be a frumpy little hausfrau, short, dumpy with nappy hair. I changed myself into this. And I'm going to climb my way up the corporate ladder. And any man who wants to stand in my way is going to wind up like my husband. Soon to be ex-husband. A bimbo on the helpdesk, who only keeps her job because she sucks off the call center manager at lunchtime." I actually gasped a little. "No!" "Yep. I fixed it so that she acts like she loves sucking and swallowing, or having him blow on her face. But he's always inside, and he can't change how he feels about servicing other men." She paused to giggle maliciously. "Sooner or later one of his one-night stands is going to knock him up. I can't wait to see how that works out." "You are so mean," I said. "Or maybe a little crazy. I don't know what I'm going to do if this is real." "Oh, it's real. And you should start by loading up your boyfriend and changing his so he can't lie to you, then asking him who he's slept with besides you." I drove home, distracted by the thought of the thumb drive in my purse. When I got home the apartment hadn't been cleaned like Sam had said he would to help out while he wasn't working. Sam wasn't around either. Furious, I went to my office, opened my computer and slotted the thumb drive. The only file on the drive was something called MasterPC. I ran the program, half figuring it was a virus. In a couple of minutes, the program was installed and it launched itself. There was a graphical interface with dozens of categories. But in front of that was a popup window labelled 'enter subject's name'. I entered my own name. The popup window flashed to 'subject found' and then disappeared. An image of me, in the seated position I was currently in, appeared in a window alongside a screen with four tabs, 'general', 'physical', 'mental', and 'health'. The health tab was strobing red. I switched to it and another popup appeared at the top of the health tab 'cancer warning'. Ice in my veins, I clicked on it and found as I scrolled down to breasts, a breast cancer detected warning. A two- millimeter lump in my left breast. I quickly disrobed and gave myself a breast exam, and sure enough, just where the program said I had a breast cancer, I could feel a tiny, almost imperceptible lump. Just a slight protrusion, almost undetectable. I turned my attention to the program, and figured out how to remove the cancer, hit the execute button and re-examined myself. I couldn't find the slightly harder spot on my breast. I went back to physical and found the breast heading. My breasts were listed at 34B. As long as I was experimenting, I enlarged them to 34DD and clicked on execute. Suddenly I had mountains of tits. They were so heavy, and my nipples had expanded to accommodate the massive mounds. They were much larger than they had been moments before. I admit the change excited me, even as I rejected them as impractical. But the excitement caused my nipples to stiffen, they stood up, protruding nearly an inch. I wondered how they would even fit in a baby's mouth, given their size. I returned my breasts to their normal size and got dressed again. When I sat back down, I noticed at the bottom of the various tabbed pages on the right side of the screen, several pairs of buttons. 'Subject aware', 'subject unaware', 'independent', 'reality adjusted' 'immediate change', and 'delayed change'. 'Subject aware', 'independent', and 'immediate change' were highlighted. I retrieved my purse, and pulled out my driver's license. Alongside my other physical statistics, it listed my hair and eyes as brown and brown. I used the program interface to change my hair to blond and my eyes to blue. I left 'subject aware' highlighted but changed the other pair of buttons to 'reality adjusted' and clicked execute. When I looked back at my driver's license the hair and eyes were listed as blond and blue and the picture of me had blond hair and blue eyes. I ran into the bathroom to confirm, and sure enough, my hair was blond and my eyes were blue. Even if I wasn't angry with Sam Miller, I think I was going to need an upgrade in the boyfriend department. I went back to my computer, and in a few minutes of poking around, figured out how to enter a different subject's name. The program prompted me, 'Do you want to save changes to current subject?'. I clicked on yes, then entered Sam Miller in the subject name. The program flashed 'subject found' and the avatar displayed on the right side of the screen changed to a picture of Sam. Only he was seated on standing. His avatar was in the push up position, had an erection and was making pelvic thrust motions. I could feel my face burning with embarrassment and anger. That son of a bitch! Momo's warning to back yourself up came back to me at that moment. With a moment of sick realization, I recalled that I hadn't backed myself up. My changes to my body were now my reality. Easy enough to remedy. I changed the subject back to myself and backed my new, blond haired, blue eyed reality. Thank goodness I hadn't left myself with balloon boobs. Switching back to my good for nothing boyfriend, he was still pumping away. In one of the menus at the top of the screen, I found a 'locate subject' selection. I clicked on it and the screen changed to a map, with a pin and a thumbnail of Sam less than a mile away. I zoomed in and discovered the address where Sam was at. I switched screens and found the county records for that address. It was a property built in 1890, 4,500 square feet of space, with 8 bedrooms and 5 bathrooms. It owned by a couple, Tookta and Kom Mahidol. I switched back to MasterPC and switched back to myself. There was an edit window under the mental tab. I switched back to myself and edited my mental info to know all there was to know about Tookta and Kom Mahidol. When I hit execute, I reeled in my desk chair. It was like getting a two by four to the head, but the feeling passed quickly. Tootie and Kom, as they were known, owned a mansion, and ran it as a cathouse. They had contacts in Thailand, where they were from and got a fresh string of girls sent to them frequently on tourist visas. They had a neat gig going. The girls came on tourist visas, stayed for six months and went home. In the mean time they consumed mass amounts of American culture. Some of them skipped their visa expiration, but for the most part, customs had bigger fish to fry. Local officials got a nice payoff and free hooker service whenever they wanted. That gave me a wicked idea. Switching back to Sam, I made some mental changes to him. I set it so he couldn't lie to me and had to obey whatever command I gave him. I executed the commands, saved and backed up his profile. I added a password to my computer, and shut it down. Then I waited for him to come home. While I waited, I picked up a little bit, and started dinner. About an hour later, Sam came home. "Hi, honey. I'm in the kitchen," I called to him. Sam walked into the kitchen a grin on his face. He came over to give me a welcoming kiss but I turned my face at the last minute so his kiss landed on my cheek. "So, where've you been?" I asked. "Oh, I've been over at the Thai house," he replied. A look of horror spreading on his face as he realized he had just told me the truth. "And what were you doing over there?" I asked, shutting the range off so that dinner didn't burn. "Banging this hot little Thai whore that just came in." He looked panicked and confused at this point. "Don't even try to lie to me, Sam. You can't." Sam backed up and glanced toward the front door, trying to decide if it was time to run for his life, but I cut him off at the pass. "No running, Sam. As a matter of fact, sit down right now and stay seated until I tell you that you can move." Sam obediently slid a chair out from the dining room table and sat down. His forehead was covered in sweat and his eyes flashed around the room, but his body was stock still. I went upstairs to my office and retrieved my laptop. I started it and carried it back to the dining room while it booted up. I put my computer down and sat at the opposite end of the dining room table from Sam. "So, Sam. How long have you been going to the Thai house?" "Six years," he replied. "Oh, God. What's happening?" he whined. "You may only talk in response to my questions, Sam," I ordered. He immediately shut up. "Now, when you lost your apartment, was it because you were spending all of your money at the Thai house?" "Yes." "While we were dating and having sex? You're a worm," I said. I wondered if I could actually turn him into a worm? I started typing in his physical profile. I left 'subject aware' and 'independent' but changed the last button to 'delayed change'. A popup appeared to ask me how long I wanted to delay the change. I set the start time to five seconds and stretched the changes out to five minutes so I could enjoy it and he could experience it slowly. It took me some time to input all the changes I wanted him to go through, but I was finally able to hit the execute button and get up to finish cooking dinner. "You can speak freely, Sam. But you may not move," I ordered him. "Oh God, honey, I'm so sorry," he began. "Not as sorry as you're going to be," I replied. "How are you doing this?" he asked. "You don't need to know that, Sam," I looked over at him and saw that his brown hair had turned black and started growing out. He was already a few inches shorter. I turned the range back on and started working on the chicken and vegetables I was cooking to go with rice in the rice cooker. "It didn't mean a thing; all those girls were just... just a way to get my rocks off." "Oh? What sort of things did you do with all those girls that didn't mean a thing?" "Blowjobs, boob jobs, anal, missionary of course, doggy. Sometimes I'd let them give me a massage and a hand job," He was sweating again. His lips were noticeably puffier and his five o'clock shadow had disappeared. His hair was down to the collar of his flannel shirt, which had changed texture to something less rough. His jeans were much baggier as his frame shrank. "So, you had all this energy to bang whores, but you couldn't even help out by cleaning up around here?" "I'm sorry. It'll never happen again, honey. I swear." "Oh, I know it'll never happen again, Sam," By now his hair had developed a set of bangs ending just at his very feminine arched eyebrows. His skin had taken on a sunny olive tone. His jeans were tightening up and climbing his legs as they changed into a different article of clothing. Even his work boots were changing, the rough leather was refining and becoming darker and shinier. He looked down at his hands, now much smaller and with slender fingers tipped with long, impractical nails. "Oh God! What's happening to me?" "Well, since you like visiting the Thai House so much, I figured I'd arrange it so that you don't have to visit. You can live and work there. After all you are Tooti's niece, Sami, aren't you?" "No, I'm not Sami. I'm Sami. No, I mean I'm Sami. My name is Sami!" he shouted in a much higher, slightly sibilant voice that was having some difficulty pronouncing English words. "Oh, you're not losing anything important, Sami. I mean, yeah, your ability to read English, yes. But you can read Thai now. And you speak fluent Thai too. Of course, you don't speak perfectly fluent English any more. But that should be normal Since you were born in Bangkok." "No, prease don't do this to me, lady!" she shouted. Since there was no way Sami could pass as male any longer. Breasts were pushing out from her chest as her t-shirt had changed to a scoop-necked halter. Her red and black checked flannel shirt was now a midriff blouse, still in red and black, but a slightly shiny fabric. Her jeans had turned into a black mini skirt, her tube socks were thinning and darkening as they climbed her legs, chasing the hem of her miniskirt, and her work boots had nearly finished changing to oxblood platform stiletto pumps. "Tell me Sami, you've been a whore since you were fifteen. What's your favorite thing your customers ask for that gets you hot?" "Ah, I love i' when tey ask me for brwowjob," She replied, her eyes flying open in horror when she realized what she had said. "Blowjobs get you off?" "Nah, not get off on brwowjob, but i' get me all hot," Her face was a mask of distress, even as she had to answer me honestly. Heavy makeup had appeared on her face and her boobs had pushed out even further, nipples prominent. Her waist was tiny, an exaggerated hourglass and her hips and ass had spread out on the chair in what would be a fine bubble ass when she stood up. "How do you feel about anal?" I asked innocently. "I no like backdooh', but if dey pay extra, I do," Her eyes were brimming with tears. "Oh no, don't cry Sami. You'll ruin your makeup. And you always want to look your best in case you encounter a man who wants to get off. Because you're a girl who can't say no. Anytime a guy propositions you, you're going to fuck him. It's up to your pimp or the house madam to handle the money, right?" "Ri' I just a whohre. I no handle money. Sometimes my johns give me tips. Tha' my money." The changes had stopped by now. Sami sat at the table, still unable to move. A tiny Thai girl in the US on a tourist visa set to expire in six months. The ID in her purse hanging from the back of her chair said that her name was Samilhwan Mahidol, Sami for short. She'd been a prostitute in Bangkok for her uncle's whore house until she had turned 18 and her uncle had loaned her out to her aunt Tootie. Tootie was going to be quite pleased with her niece Sami. She had big tits, a tiny wasp waist and wide hips with a round ass. Her face was a pleasing oval, with high cheeks, big brown eyes. Her hair was a satin waterfall down to mid-back and aside from her eyebrows she was completely hairless otherwise. The rice cooker clicked to indicate it was finished cooking. I poured Sami a glass of water, and myself a glass of wine. I grabbed two plates, dished up some rice, added the Asian chicken and vegetables I'd prepared in the skillet. I put it all down on the table at our places, took my seat and told Sami, "You can move now. Dig in. This is the last meal I'm ever going to cook for you." Sami's face was a mask of distress. Humiliation, fear, and yes, anger were at war there. She had the memories of 3 years of being a whore in Bangkok dumping into her brain and they had to be playing out. And the bad experiences were the ones that always jumped out at you. "Prease..." she began. I jumped in to cut her off. "No. You need to be taught a lesson. You think it's okay to lie to me? To use me? And to use those whores? Shit, Tootie's day is coming too. She's using those girls worse than you ever did. But for you... let me ask you. How much did each go with one of the girls at the Thai house cost you?" "Fouhr hundreh dollah," she said, in her thickly accented English. "Jesus Christ. Four hundred dollars? How often were you there?" "Fouhr, mebee fihve times a wreek." "You spent two thousand dollars a week at the Thai house?" Her head hung so low that she was staring at the floor. "Look at me and answer the question." Sami looked at me and said, "Yah, sometime." I took a bite of dinner. The vegetables were a little soft from sitting in the pan while I'd programmed Sami's changes. I thought over her punishment while I chewed. Sami hadn't touched her meal. I finally came to a decision. There'd be no point in punishing her if I was just going to send her to Bangkok, back to Bangkok. She had to work to earn a redemption though. "Eat your dinner," I ordered. Sami obediently spread her napkin on her lap, picked up her fork and began eat, face still wrecked with distress. "At four hundred dollars a pop, on a six month visa," I said, doing the math in my head. Minus the time you're going to be off and unable to fuck your customers because your friend's in town... Sami's head popped up at that one, still chewing, her eyes registering shock. "What? You didn't think I was going to make you a real girl? Yeah, periods, fertility, the works. So, you'd better use protection, unless you want a bun in the oven. So, anyway, that's about 130 days of working time. If you fuck one guy a day, average, that works out to fifty-two thousand dollars. But you've got to want it. So, if you make your aunt Tootie sixty thousand dollars by the time your visa expires, I'll change you back." Sami's eyes bulged and she swallowed the food in her mouth. "Tha's like one hundre' and fidy guys!" "See? I didn't take away your math skills. Of course, you probably won't earn as much on a blowjob or a boobjob or massage with a happy ending. But, on the plus side, you'll earn more doing anal." Her head fell again, and she took a big, ragged, sobbing breath, followed by a bite of food, since I'd told her to eat. She still had to obey me. "Of course, you could resist. But then instead of being a whore in America, you'd be a whore in Bangkok. You remember what that's like, right?" Sami never made eye contact, but she said, "Yes, I remembeh." At the end of the meal, which passed in stilted silence, I called her an Uber. She paused at the door to ask me a question. "Ca' I come visit you on Chhristmas?" "Why would you want to do that?" I asked. "They don' celebra' Chhristmas at the Thai House." "I don't think that'd be a good idea, Sami," I said, escorting her outside, and closing the door behind her. I check in on her later that night using the program. She was lying down, huddled in the fetal position, crying. *** The next months flew by. I made a bunch of changes. I had figured out a good way to monetize the program, and in a way, Sami was the genesis of the idea. Besides, Momo and I had come to an agreement. She wholeheartedly approved on what I'd done to clear up the Sam problem. She even said she was going to use it to deal with her ex-husband. But, in the end, we decided that there wasn't room enough for both of us at the bank. So, I quit. I also figured out how to password protect my profile in the program. First, I made multiple backups of the program, some on other laptops in safe deposit boxes, all of them password protected. Some of the copies were held by attorneys, with instructions to release them to whoever showed up and gave a password. Then, I used the program to make myself taller and much more statuesque. A female figure that demanded respect and authority. I then began travelling around the country, visiting different cities and in a wealthy part of town. I gave myself the information of who had specific kinks and how to contact them. I found that the program had a bit over a mile of range. So, scouring the wealthy neighborhoods took some doing. In time I had a client list and I took them for a ride. I'd make a simple, but very noticeable change to their bodies, and then contact them via e-mail. A single man who wanted to be a woman, I'd give female nipples to. A single woman who wanted to experience being male I'd give a three-inch penis to. Others required more delicate handling, but word of mouth would take over. I used the email address and working name of 'Fantasia'. Some very wealthy and powerful men wanted to be women. Some wealthy and powerful women wanted to be male. Some wanted to be animals. Some of them wanted to be someone else, so they could victimize or be victims. I had no problems with any of them, except the ones who wanted to victimize others. I'd gleefully take their money, and turn them into the victims to get a taste of what they wanted to do to others. Of course, it didn't hurt that I always left them relishing being the victims after I'd changed them back. Hell, I even had a couple that wanted to gender swap so the husband was the wife. The other usuals applied. They wanted to be younger, very sexy male body was to be virile and well hung, the female body a virtual porn star. Then the wife contacted me privately and wanted to know if, while they were gender swapped, I could arrange it so her husband, as a woman, would get pregnant. I had to wrestle with that one. I mean, it was involuntary. I didn't know if I could alter a pregnancy and ultimately, I decided to not try. I told her that I could arrange it, for a modest fee, that when he was a woman, she would be fertile. Extremely fertile, she countered and I agreed. The rest was up to the man and nature. That particular couple went missing after that. I never found out what happened to them and I reluctantly crossed them off my client list. At Christmas time, Sami sent me a card. I was travelling and didn't get it until after the New Year. It was a really nice card, and very thoughtful. I felt bad because I hadn't reciprocated. But, down in the lower left-hand corner of the card she'd written '$49,400'. I checked in on her that night. She was kneeling, on hands and knees, rocking back and forth slightly, mouth in an O shaped rictus, occasionally reaching one hand up to stroke something in front of her mouth. I panned around her avatar and could see her vagina gaping, the labia majora drawing into her and then splaying out as her john thrust in and out. She was being spit-roasted and the look on her face was half- professional, but I could also see that she'd react with obvious pleasure to what was happening. I admit, I went to a dark place after seeing that. I was already wallowing in filth. Sure, making ridiculous amounts of money, always written up as 'consultation fees', which I paid ridiculous amounts of taxes on. In three-months I'd cleared three million dollars, and that included setup time to find clients. I was on the road constantly and had decided that every two weeks I need a couple of days to come home, relax and de-stress. Some of my older clients had been inquiring about permanent changes. Becoming younger and disappearing. I still hadn't decided how I was going to handle that. I needed a break. I couldn't sleep that night. Around three am I got up and went into my office. I opened my laptop and looked in on Sami. She was lying down, alone, rubbing her belly and crying. She looked miserable. After a while she rolled over, and went to sleep. I was worried about her. I'd put her in this situation and she was apparently as miserable as I was. I felt sorry for her. I couldn't do anything about my situation, but I could do something about hers. I edited my profile in the program and gave myself the knowledge of how much money Sami had made for Tootie. I was shocked to discover that Sami had already made seventy-thousand dollars. I made another editing pass and found that at Christmas Sami had already exceeded sixty-thousand dollars. But she'd written that she'd only made forty-nine thousand. I smelled a rat. In any event I programmed Sami to come see me in the morning. At nine am the doorbell rang. I answered, and Sami was standing there. She looked really good. Her breasts were high and firm, bigger than I remembered. She'd obviously been taking care of herself. The smile on her face was apprehensive. "I hop' dis is wrigh'," she said. Her Thai accent had gotten thicker. "It is, Sami. I wanted to see you," I said. I'd also forgotten how much shorter I'd made her. Or was it that I had made myself taller? As she stepped into the house I swept her into a hug and she giggled, her face pressed into my cleavage. "I always like it in dere. An I not like girls anymoh'," she laughed. I showed her to the living room, invited her to sit and got her a bottle of water. "So, you make me wan' come see you?" Sami asked. "Yes, I wanted to thank you for your Christmas card and I also wanted to see how you were doing on your earnings." "Oh, I doin' grea'. Tootie tell me I earn fihty-two t'ousan'. I make sixty easy, mebee three, fouhr weeks early." "Well, I have good news for you, Sami. You've made seventy-thousand dollars for Tootie already. If you like, I can change you back whenever you want." A litany of emotions passed across Sami's face, relief, uncertainty, anger and finally, they boiled over and she burst into tears. I grabbed a box of tissues off the end table and moved next to Sami on the couch to console her as she wiped her eyes and blew her nose. "Come on, Sami. It's a good day. You did great. And yeah, it's natural to be mad at Tootie." "I mad a' Tootie, suhre. But... I'm so happy I not have to go back to Thailand. I can stay in America. Prus, I not have to be whohre any mohre," she looked at me apprehensively. "Righ'?" "No whore no more," I confirmed. She wiped at her eyes again. "I figure out somethin' else to do." "You could always go back to being a carpenter," I suggested. She frowned at me like I was crazy. "I no have strengt' to be cahrpentehr." "Yeah, but I can change to back, you can go on and lead your own life now that you've learned your lesson." She slid apart from me slightly, worry clear on her face. "I can no be cahrpentehr. I can no be Sam. I Sami now. I like guys. Studs get me hot. Girls, eh-" She made a dismissive wave of her hand to accentuate how little she cared for women. "Well, yeah, I can change that too." "No. You can'," she said, taking my hand and pulling it down to her lower abdomen. "Not wi'out taking my baby." I grabbed my laptop and confirmed. I hadn't noticed last night that all of her physical traits were locked out and there was a pregnancy duration counter running on her physical tab. Of course, I'd never switched to that tab last night, I'd only been looking at her crying in bed. And she was crying because she was worried that her baby would be born in Thailand when her tourist visa ran out. We celebrated, of course. We tried to, well, you know. But Sami really doesn't like having sex with women. She's straight heterosexual. Of course, when I gave myself a dick, she kept encouraging me to make it bigger, until I put my foot down because I thought it would hurt her. She dove on it like it was a water fountain and she was dying of thirst. She took all ten inches down her throat and I could hear the sound of her other hand working her pussy even as she milked my cock for all she was worth. Finally, when I didn't think I could take much more, she climbed on top of me and started pumping away furiously, screaming in Thai as she came. It seems that making her a fluent Thai speaker and cutting her English in half, then dropping her into a house full of Thai speakers, sort of stunted her English even more. All of the websites she used were Thai. She couldn't even read English. I reversed that right away. But she stopped me from changing the way she spoke. She said if I changed that she might stop being Sami. Strange, but not worth fighting over. We had to settle up with Tootie and Kom. Tootie and Kom quickly became Tootie and Komon both eighteen-year-old working girls with exaggerated figures. And I did it in front of all of their working girls so they knew who had been responsible for their lot working at the Thai House. Then I picked out the one that would be hardest and most fair to the girls, a girl at the end of her visa named Wayo Na Songkia. I used the program to fix their visa statuses and changed their arrangement with the Thai House so that they worked the house for a year, got a bigger slice of the pie and left at Christmas time. A new crop of girls would come in with the New Year. The departing girls had a choice of going back to Thailand with a nice bankroll or getting an immigrant visa and staying in the US. Sami joined me on the road, travelling around to help clients work out their fantasies. I wouldn't have agreed to it if it had any contact with the clients. It's been good for her to travel and being in different situations as Sami. Her English has improved remarkably and her accent is diminished, even though I think it's one of her cutest features. She's really starting to show the baby bump. In a couple more months she's going to have to stay at home. I mean it and I had to put my foot down on that point. She still doesn't like girls. She had some bad experience at the Thai House with some of the other girls. She won't tell me what happened and I don't want to push. I get the feeling that it was a kind of initiation for new working girls. I don't mind having a dick, and she doesn't mind that I have boobs. I guess we'll have to see how things work out. It's not like I can't change it. We'll make it work.