Not Even Rags To Riches Conclusion
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Not Even Rage, To Riches, An Arduous Journey IV free porn video
NOT EVEN RAGS TO RICHES, AN ARDUOUS JOURNEY IV
Philip was so excited by his good fortune. Angel had not only put out but
had sucked him off last night. Sofia was a good investment. Philip liked
a woman in pantyhose. Angel had it all with the tight skirt and heels and
the top busting with pride for the ripeness of her attributes. Philip was
a lucky man. Angel put out, but it was only because of the competition.
Otherwise, she was a good catholic girl.
The labor shortage had transcribed to the supporting trades--namely, the
better prostitutes. Three hundred dollars an hour was a little ripe for
my roommates. Sofia would be an acceptable vessel to take care of
business. I could relive their pent-up frustrations with a stunning
presentation and a little imagination.
Stay in character, I told myself. The money was that good. Bearly working
was very accurate. Dressing and smelling like what my compadres needed
was easy. Ignacio wanted me to get ear piercings. Three in each ear.
"Only if you pay for it, big boy," I said in front of everyone.
"Gladly bitch," he responded.
Philip scolded Ignacio. The "lady" of the house needed to be treated with
respect. I liked that he came to my defense, but he looked scary with the
anger that resided behind his eyes. My breasts reacted to his gentlemanly
bravado. I did not understand why my nipples were reacting the way they
were.
Soon I was seated at Clairs. Three holes were set with sleepers. My
crossed legs with high heels swinging in confidence were not dissuaded as
each piercing clicked home with feminine finality. Ignacio paid to have
two more piercings in the cartilage high on my ears. I liked the
asymmetric feeling it imparted to my look.
I did not have sexual relations with any of my roommates the following
month. They did, however, wine and dine me. Havier took me to have
acrylic nails at the local beauty shop. A very svelt Asian woman made my
fingers look elegant in the space of fifteen minutes. Watching her
practiced hands manipulate her chosen medium to flow across my fingers
into perfect feminine talons was fascinating.
Juan took me shopping for additional outfits. Nothing was expensive, but
they were nice classy women's clothes. All of this helped me stay in
character, but it was still not enough. Philip wanted to know what was
wrong.
When he thought something was wrong, he brought me the hangover pills and
lovely, oh-so-sweet tequila. He sat down next to me. His hand caressed my
exposed thigh. Since I had agreed to the charade, Philip treated me like
a woman. I think he may have had a pantyhose fetish. He liked to stroke
my nylon-covered skin. My nipples always responded when he did.
"Wait, wait, I can't stand it anymore," Victor interrupted my story.
"You can't stand, what, anymore," I wanted to know.
"You know there is no such thing as hangover pills," he said,
exasperated.
My supposed claims of hangover pills affronted his personality. Victor
was a realist. He knew that I did not believe that such a thing existed.
Although he was fascinated by my life story so far, the claim that a pill
would erase the effects of alcohol was ludicrous. He needed to hear the
justification for such an outlandish falsity.
"I will get to that, Victor. Of course, there is no such thing," he
calmed as I admitted that, yes, I knew.
"Maybe we should continue another afternoon?" I suggested.
"No, I've already had too much wine. Let me hit the loo and grab us some
refreshments. I had no idea what an intriguing life you had," he said
with some excitement. He eyed me with stubborn disbelief at the
attractive woman I was. He was thinking something and shook his head as
he headed for my bathroom.
I waited, reflecting that Victor thought my life was fascinating. I
wanted to be more comfortable, so I kicked off my heels and folded my
legs under myself. The small amount of red wine swirling in my glass as I
did so. The fragrance wafted into the air, and my mind decided I wanted
the remainder to follow the rest of the glass's content.
I relished how my embellished fingers held the fragile stemware. My hair
moved across my bare back and neck as I lifted the glass high into the
air, the contents draining down my elevated throat. The earrings swung
with the sudden urge of the fermented grapes. I loved how my lips stuck
slightly with the waxy lipstick trying to gain purchase on the glass. I
did enjoy being a woman. I did not believe men knew what they were
missing.
Victor came back into the living room. He had changed from his dress
pants and button-down into his khakis and a thick t-shirt. God, he looked
comfortable. Clean, crisp t-shirts looked so good on his buff physique. I
had forgotten he kept a supply in my guest bathroom closet. His smile was
disarming as he handed me a new wineglass waiting for my lip prints to
decorate its edge.
"Are you hungry?" he asked.
"No, I'm enjoying the wine," I answered.
And I was; my cheeks were feeling warm. I was getting a little hot and
bothered. Victor got to me when he was so dressed. My nipples distended
slightly, and goose bumps made my areola pull my breast skin taunt as I
took a fresh draught of the cool nectar. I did not know if Victor was
causing my reaction or the wine.
He looked at me hungrily, hovering over me a tad too long before taking
his seat. During that short span, I looked up into his eyes, and the
pause was intense. The moist spot forming on my expensive panties was not
from the wine. I closed my eyes and fought the urge I once felt for
Charlie. Victor and I had never been intimate, but we had snuggled a few
times when alcohol was involved.
My chest was rising and falling with the need of the moment. I
repositioned my legs back to a more formal position putting on a small
show for Victor as he sat down. I took another sip of the fine wine to
calm myself down. Breathing deep cleansing breaths while trying not to be
obvious, I noticed Victor's concentration on my swelling chest with each
breath. I enjoyed watching him drink from his glass to cover his
excitement.
"Where were we?" I asked, buying a little more time.
"Philip was snuggling up to you and offering you the "hangover pills"
before plying you with quality tequila," Victor always kept place. He was
very organized.
"Exactly," I said.
"Exactly what?" Victor inquired.
"Quality tequila," I responded.
"How much have you had to drink?" Victor asked while eyeing the two
empties on my kitchen counter.
Victor was putting my story out of order, but since he hit on it, I
needed to tell him what the trick was. On the first night of the revelry,
Philip gave me cheap tequila. I mean, incredibly cheap. He was drinking
pure tequila, top drawer. The hangover was legendary. I don't think I was
ever so impaired. When I "accidentally" found out about the hangover
pill, Philip was only too glad to help out his old teammate. He gave me
four pills and then a shot of the good stuff. From then on, whenever we
drank, he gave me the pills before I drank the tequila.
"What were the pills then?" Victor asked.
I thought it would have been obvious, but we were drinking.
"The pills were a testosterone blocker and estrogen. The whole house had
supplied me with and watched me take vast amounts of estrogen and T-
blockers. At the time, I enjoyed/needed to be inebriated. The miracle
pills worked. I had no idea I was tricked into taking feminine hormones,"
I told Victor.
"Ok, but after a short time, there would be changes. How is it you did
not notice?" Victor sounded dubious again.
"Fair question," I stated.
I was noticing changes. My skin, for one, was becoming very soft. My hair
was becoming luxurious. Both of these, I thought, were attributed to
expensive shampoos and conditioners and skin lotion they wanted me to
apply constantly.
Later my arm muscles seemed smaller, but I was not working. My ass was
getting bigger, and my chest was a little flabby, but everyone was taking
me out for dates to various restaurants. When I wore my hair down, my
neck looked frail. And as things were adding up to a nefarious plot,
Philip coaxed out of me that I was having difficulty "staying in
character." What I did was so much easier on my mindset if I stayed in
character.
After taking my hangover pills and being treated to several shots of hard
liquor while Philip stroked the inside of my thighs, he understood from
me that I needed help to stay in character. I often wondered if his
rubbing my legs generated electricity off my nylon-encased legs. It
always gave me a charge. It would travel up to my breasts and cause my
nipples to harden. I liked it when he placed his hand behind my neck and
brought my lips to his. My hair would cascade forward, adding to the
sensations. I was almost there but I did not feel like my character was
whole. Everything was pleasant.
My financial position had changed entirely. The pressure of abject
poverty had been removed from me. Everyone was now respectful and
friendly toward me. When I first came, I was the new guy. Another body
was taking space and vying for position. Everything in life was a
competition, and I was not very big. I detested when the meager food
supply I had somehow gone missing. Now, everyone was paying me handsomely
and providing for me.
Philip had the solution. It was temporary and could easily be removed.
But once I had them, he was sure I could stay in character much more
effortlessly. Everything he said made perfect sense. His lips felt so
soft. The tequila was so anesthetizing.
"What do you say? Do you want our help?" Philip asked.
I woke up in a clinic. I had bandages on my face, abdomen, and now a huge
chest.
"What did you guys do to me?" I asked Philip when he came to take me
home.
"For you, Sofia. We did this for you as you asked us for our help,"
Philip sharply told me.
"I did not want this!"
"You said you did, remember? The breast job was my idea, but the rest was
what you asked for," Philip accused me.
Juan, who was in the back seat, said, "you begged us for it. You wanted
to be able to stay in character. When the four of us that were in the
room relented, you rushed us and kissed us all, saying "thank you, thank
you."
He continued. "It was pretty expensive all that we did for you. We are
not rich people. I think you should be grateful."
Philip and Juan sat there stewing over my ingratitude. I did not know
what to think. I felt terrible that I was not more grateful. As my
attitude adjusted, they became more complacent. The banter in the car
turned to reveal my results at the month's end. I have to admit I was
curious myself. I did not know why my lips felt so funny.
By them having me get implants, my breast development was hidden from me.
I happily continued to ingest large quantities of T-blocker and estrogen,
thinking their fantastic chemistry would negate my hangover. I could not
wait to see my new breasts when I went home. Philip knew what he was
doing. At this point, I wanted no one to see me without makeup.
The bandages eventually did come off. I studied my breasts in the mirror
for a week. They were beautiful. The nose job and my eyes looking wider
than ordinary took a back seat. My plumped-up lips and new breasts were
what grabbed and held my attention. My breasts were beautiful. I don't
know what my roommates paid, but my breasts were beautiful.
After four days, I started to appreciate my new nose. It looked so cute.
I'm not sure, but I believe my roommates paid for cheek implants. Staying
in character would be much easier now. I was what my roommates wanted me
to be. And I was better looking than many females.
My fake breasts were a homage to female perfection. Even I was enthralled
by their perkiness. The males surrounding me did not need to use their
imagination as much as previously necessary. Sofia looked like the part
they had paid to accommodate their needs. Every glance in the mirror did
reiterate that I was of the female persuasion.
Philip was the first to take me. My new breasts swung with his motion.
The honeymoon was over. The wining and dining continued, but the price
was evident. Sofia was not just a pretend girlfriend; she needed to put
out. I felt like a girl. My clothes and body shape were now that of a
girl. I liked the attention that seventeen men had shown me.
Philip took me in such a way that I felt utterly feminine. My legs were
held high in the air. I was completely helpless. My new breasts moved
with each enticement until Philip's penis pushed at my rosebud. He liked
how my manicured hands tried to gain purchase as his stiff rod violated
my ass. Philip was ingraining into me that I was this group's fuck toy.
I felt like it, and I accepted it. My mother and sister were taken care
of. I did not have to work for a living. The clothes and surgical
embellishments made his efforts enjoyable. Sofia liked what she had
received. I was bouncing up and down on His bed. Thank God I was not near
the headboard. Philip was very aggressive that night. Sofia had
appreciated his hot sperm shot up her ass. It made her feel attractive as
a woman. It made things seem real.
As the months continued, My body became utterly feminine. The surgical
embellishments had come into contact with the civil municipality's take
on reality. Sofia needed an id card. It was with the individual that was
tasked with my case. Sofia became a reality when Hector from the motor
vehicles department liked my smile, flirted with me, and laminated my
identity card.
For an extended time, I could only look at my breasts. They were
beautiful. The symmetry of the fake mammaries was impressive. With harsh
memories as I took in my situation, I expected more from my store-bought
investment. It was becoming impossible to think of myself as male.
Some of the roommates only wanted companionship. Randy, however, often
fought with his girlfriend. When they had a row, he would become
particularly amorous with me. When he would come for me, he would have a
double dose of hangover pills. He liked to dance and get drunk. A three-
shot minimum before we left for his night out with me was standard. He
liked the black knit dress with the feather-trimmed hem on me. Two towns
over, he had a favorite dance spot. By the time we got to the
destination, I was becoming loose from my tequila.
I enjoyed drinking and dancing, knowing that no hangover would be the
price for indulgence. It surprised me when he gave me a gold necklace he
had bought for his girl. It must have been quite a fight. I loved how my
clothes elicited soft and silky sensations as I drank and was guided
across the noisy dance floor. My peripheral vision had become blurred as
Randy spun me this way and that.
As his showing off to other patrons that his date was hotter than most,
desire in this vanity wained as he started to ponder taking me, and we
left. I liked being half out of it before being taken like a girl. I
rubbed my legs together in drunken anticipation. My high heels were one
of my better pairs. My chest jiggled most invitingly as we drove over the
rough back road.
The motel was cheap but clean. I freshened my lipstick as Randy paid the
nightie clerk. Seeing that I was tipsy, Randy swooped me up in his arms
and carried me to the room. He was not taking any chances. His rock-hard
penis needed relief.
When you are drunk, sex feels so good. Randy was one of the larger boys
if you know what I mean. I think if his good Catholic girlfriend was to
experience his gift, she might fight less with him. His stamina was one
of the house's best. My lingerie was what he bought for me. Honestly,
keeping straight who bought what was one of the most complex parts of my
acting career. They would get upset if I confused their gifts. Each
wanted to act as if I was their girl. And each night, I was as their
turns rolled around.
I had to resort to keeping a log of "gifts" and who supplied what and
expected me to be wearing which outfit. It never mattered once we were
drunk, but their fragile male egos were hard to navigate before that.
Extra wardrobes were brought to my room to hold everything. Each
boyfriend wanted me in their special outfit. And as things progressed,
makeup and perfumes were male-specific. I was not the only one acting.
Each Mexican roommate used imagination to have me their girl on date
nights.
I ended up cross-referencing my clothes, lingerie, cosmetics, heels, and
hairstyle with my boyfriend calendar. It even got more specific down to
the color and sheen of my pantyhose. James had esquiset taste in ligerie.
I liked his bra and panty set the best. When Carlos wanted to trade days
because he was "in need" of companionship, I refused to change to his
preferred actress-in-waiting. He was upset, but not so much that our
night was ruined.
And so it was that I was a different girl every night. They all
constantly worked except Sundays, so I had much time to myself. I bathed
and groomed. I laid out by the above-ground pool and tanned. I liked what
hair treatments did for my now long hair. At night I was clean and ready
for whomever my scheduled boyfriend was. I rarely ate during the day
since my man of the evening would be taking me out on the town.
Honestly, Philip had been correct. I was treated as a queen. I received
more compensation than anyone that lived with me. Filing and touching up
your nails, keeping your makeup fresh, and making sure your pantyhose is
on straight was the extent of my work. There was fun dancing or seeing
shows. My drinks and hangover pills were always free. The only hurdle to
achieving my high pay was maybe twenty minutes of immersion acting.
Dressing the part helped more than I could have imagined. When my boobs
were added to my costume, it almost seemed natural. The large amount of
alcohol helped me relax, and knowing my mother and sister were cared for
made the deed bearable. It was not long before I noticed things were
pleasurable. Once I gave up on what should have been and enjoyed what
womanhood offered, things changed for me. I was becoming Sofia.
A pampered life full of soft silky surroundings is something to be
savored. I never knew a person could live in such cleanliness. I
constantly was bathed and powdered, lotions and creams applied
religiously, and my smallness was an asset. I smelled divine. I loved
fresh pantyhose. Nothing feels like that. The toiling on my parent's farm
and smelling of livestock were no more. I was Sofia.
I loved how I turned heads. The constant courtship from my
admirers/lovers was all-encompassing. My breasts and now much rounder ass
were the culprits. The liposuction of my waist made fat deposits go
elsewhere. The new shape made my gait alter itself to the appropriate
feminine glide. Jewelry was starting to accumulate. I hoped it was not
stolen, but it looked inviting against my tan soft silky skin.
My boys started to make me feel very good. No one ever pointed me out as
anything other than an attractive woman. It probably helped that I was
always a good-looking man's love interest for the first four months.
Everywhere I went, I was escorted as someone's hot date. My breast job
certainly did help in that department.
Getting my driver's license was interesting. Several of my boys taught
me. It was Philip that took me to see his friend hector at MVD. Hector
was alternately staring at my legs and breasts on the road test. Knowing
I belonged to Philip was the only thing stopping him from hitting on me.
It was strange putting my license into my purse. I was now Sofia Isabella
Jimenez. I sure looked like her. My driver's license picture was cute. I
always heard people complain about them, but mine or Sofia's was cute.
"So, you started liking dating your roommates and getting fucked every
night?" Victor asked while wearing his poker face.
"It was not every night, and I didn't have a choice that would take care
of my family after my father died," I said in my defense.
I looked over at Victor. He was somewhat indignant. He was, from his
perspective, also right. I had started enjoying the freedom of being
Sofia. I came to love sexy clothes. I started craving the attention of
fit young construction workers. The soft and giving flesh that I had
developed offered many illicit enjoyments. Every movement could be a
sexual enticement if I moved correctly. And I had learned how to move my
new body to ensure my position and pay.
Once I mastered the girlish positions and posses, I used them to gain in
any way I could. Whether that was a top-notch steak cut up and spoon-fed
to me by Juan as jealous restaurant patrons looked on at the babe he was
feeding or if Philip gave me an expensive bracelet he "found" somewhere.
And yes, I started liking sex with my benefactors. I was Sofia twenty-
four seven. I deserved to be happy, didn't I? A sexy woman has her needs.
And then...
Dottie
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