Adventures of a Demon Slut
Aaron Pery
www.airper@aol.com
Smashwords ebook Edition
All Rights Reserved
Copyright 2011 by Aaron Pery
ISBN # 978-1-4581-2971-0
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Adventures of a Demon Slut
Prologue
I have absolutely no idea where nor what I am, only that I'm sure that my name is Nicolas Lorraine and my last recollection of myself is that I was lying in a hospital bed after suffering a severe heart attack. Yet here I am, apparently a disembodied entity floating somewhere in limbo, which must mean that I had died and that my mind or spirit must be awaiting its verdict of whether I'm to go up to heaven or down to hell. And that no matter what I had always believed about life after death in whatever fashion, is no bull since it couldn't be otherwise.
Now, wait a minute, here goes something because I just felt myself being yanked someplace. Yes, I was, and it sure wasn't upwards to heaven but downwards to hell, where I just found myself in a long line of human looking pulsating globes, hovering in mid-air. And with all my senses, which apparently are working just fine, I can easily smell the Sulfuric reek that permeates throughout a semi-dark huge cavern, which contained a large lake of burning lava. And then, to my chagrin, I could clearly hear loud moaning emanating from it and see a huge number of globes that looked just as I do now, floating in the fiery lake.
Then, to make things even worse, it finally penetrated my perplexed mind that I was hearing voices coming from the front of the long awaiting line, speaking in an unrecognized language that I nevertheless could understand. If I weren't appalled enough by my terrible discoveries so far, what I saw next topped it all as what I saw at the end of the line was a dais at which sat, no lounged, what I knew was a demon!!! It possessed a long canine snout, red glowing eyes, pointed ears, and a long twitching tail who was passing judgment on the next in line globe because he kept yelling 'into the fire pool forever', after which another demon kicked the globe so powerfully that it fell from the ledge to the pool down below us with a loud splash.
But the ultimate horror I saw was a creature above the dais, who was apparently confirming each of the judgments by entering it into an iPad with taloned fingers. Oh, for crying out loud, that's the Devil himself using the newest electronic gadget while sitting in his raised judge's throne and approving all his minion's verdicts on us poor souls, to burn in hell's inferno for all eternity for assorted sins and crimes that we had committed through our life.
But I didn't do anything so wrong that I deserved this, I thought as I advanced in line. Oh, I'd always cheated on my taxes and lied a bit here and there, but nothing so terrible that would justify my getting into this horrible place. Heck, I was always a loving husband and father, for whom I'd provided a life of great comfort and quite a few luxuries, and worked my ass off to do it by constantly traveling all across the US selling my company's wares. Could it be that I'm here because of the few infidelities I'd committed along the way? But what could a highly desirable man such as I used to be do on lonely nights on the road while staying in lousy motels when I was constantly approached by eager beautiful young women? And didn't all men in my position do exactly that, which means this place must contain half of the male population on earth and probably all travelling salesmen?
I was so totally baffled by my thoughts of the reasons why I deserved such punishment that I barely noticed that I had reached the front of the line and that the demon judge was reading aloud from his own iPad, detailing everything that I had thought of, including all of my acts of infidelity. I tried to protest the injustice of it all but he raised an open taloned hand in my direction and intoned 'into the pool forever', which was the signal to his minion to kick me into the lava pool.
Before the demon had a chance to do as instructed, a rambling voice from above shouted. "Stop it. The man was indeed a great sinner, Asael, but you should remember that we practice the same kind of sexual pleasures at all times and yet we were never punished for these deeds. On the contrary, we pride ourselves on fornicating with any female we can find both here and above. No, the man can't be judged as harshly as we do murderers and big cheats, which he definitely wasn't."
"Then how should he be judged, My Lord, now that he's here? We can't very well send him back, you know."
"Or upstairs to the Pearly Gates either. However, he was a big enough cheat and liar to deserve some sort of punishment. So how about sending him back to earth and have him reincarnated as something real despicable?"
My non-existing heart pounded with glee. Despicable? Who gives a shit about that as long as I get a second chance at living?
Samael gave me his beady-eyed look and smiled with his almost expressionless face. "How about it, My Lord, if I send him back to earth to exist in the body of some vile creature, to be forever despised and revolted by all who see him?"
"Excellent idea, Samael. But what kind of creature shall it be?"
"How about one like the many sluts that he had fornicated with on earth?" Said a raspy female voice that emanated from the mouth of a horrible looking scaly body with huge breasts that suddenly rose next to the devil.
"Great idea, my darling Echidna." The devil responded while fondling her nipples, which made her literally purr like a kitten. "But you're not thinking big enough."
"Oh, My Lord? What d'you have in mind for him instead?"
The devil turned to me. "How many sluts were you involved with in your sinful activities? Was it ten, twenty, or more of these amoral whores?"
I chuckled internally. What a stupid dork he must be, I thought to myself. Hell, going on long sales trips four times a year for thirty years I must've probably screwed over a hundred sweet pieces of ass of all kinds, especially in the seventies when women burned bras and loved to fuck indiscriminately. "The truth is, My Lord, that it was more than ten but no more than twenty women starting in the late sixties or early seventies, when women were voraciously loose sexually."
"I see. Then here's my verdict. Send him back to earth to start living at that time period as one of those sluts. No, stop. What d'you think, Echidna, about sending him back to live as all twenty of the sluts, one after the other for twenty years each--twenty long times."
"That will be marvelous, My Lord, twenty times twenty of being screwed by filthy men like he was without stop will be enough to make him beg to return here to the sinners' fire pool."
"But I should give him the option to quit whenever he can no longer live as a whore? He deserves at least that much. Okay, twenty and twenty it is, to run starting in 1970 or for shorter periods if he elects to escape being trapped in the body of an awful creature."
"I think that's fair to all concerned, especially if they're big sized nymphomaniacs."
Fuck you assholes, I thought, because that'll mean a four-hundred years of carefree life for me since I'll always be able to outsmart those who try to hurt me in any way. Yeah, I like that, no matter what these morons think particularly since I think it'll be nice to live on the other side of the gender equation as the kind of woman I used to love fucking.
"Then so be it." The devil's verdict was announced loudly. "Arrange it so, Samael, starting with a real filthy whore as his first host."
Chapter One - Jessica
A moment later, and I have no idea how they did it, I found myself ensconced in a stranger's head. It was a woman, of course, who was moving around apparently in her apartment, without a stitch of clothes on her. As she entered her bedroom she passed by a full-length mirror and stopped to inspect herself in it, which gave me an opportunity to see my supposedly horrible host, who actually didn't look bad at all. She was in her early twenties, quite pretty with hair that was bleached to a nearly white blond and was very short—a style that I remembered being prevalent in the seventies among Hollywood starlets, and copied by less than savory women all over.
It kind of startled me when I realized that she almost six foot tall, about three inches taller than I used to be, and quite massive everywhere but with well defined curves, a slightly protruding round belly, and shapely legs and thighs. Her breasts were hugely large but looked youthfully solid as they jutted forward, creating a very attractive cleavage in the way that they nearly touched one another, and each tipped by an enormous dark areola. Her butt, though quite large, flared roundly from a narrow waist down to her thighs in a highly erotic fashion. I burst into laughter when I saw her very dark, thick pubic mat that contrasted greatly with her phony blond hair, and seemed to be even larger since looked like it had been trimmed recently from the easily discernable stubble around it and her inner thighs and legs.
Very attractive package, I thought, but I was quite disturbed by the fact that as she moved around the apartment it felt to me as though I was sleep-walking since I had no control over her body, experiencing the world through her physical faculties without having any influence on her activities. Yet, I sensed that she was quite confused, as though aware of my presence in her head but unable to determine what exactly it was that was so disturbing her.
I kind of felt sorry for the woman but wished that I was able to control her activities, but in my fascination at being an observer in this alien body and environment, I did not attempt to gain control of her body because it was intriguing for a man to be in such a position. Until she went into the bathroom after taking a drink of cold water from the refrigerator.
Having been fastidiously clean all my life, I shuddered inwardly when I observed the woman's next activities as her bathroom habits were appallingly lackadaisical, particularly as she barely cleaned herself after using the toilet. I literally gagged mentally when she used a dirty towel from a big pile on the floor to wipe off the excess urine that spilled on her bush and inner thighs, and then sprayed her pubic area with feminine deodorant that reeked of cheap perfume. The rest of her ablutions were just as revolting since she used an underarm deodorant without washing in there, and rinsed her mouth without brushing.
I discovered her first name when she repaired her heavy makeup, which was on a birthday card that was tacked to the mirror and addressed to Jessie, signed by an undecipherable name. This activity made me realize that she was getting ready to go out and the idea of experiencing this slovenly woman's sordid life frightened me even though it was supposed to be part of my punishment. There was no doubt in my mind that she could only associate with a like kind people—filthy, degraded, and probably utterly devoid of any social graces. Yet, despite my disgust, I was titillated by being a voyeur and able to witness and participate in the life of the lowest echelon of the social strata.
She put on a pair of flimsy panties, which were just as unclean as the rest of her things, and I was repulsed when she smelled the bottom panel and sprayed it with a stifling deodorant before putting it on. I was not surprised when she did not put on a bra and her dress, which I felt was much too tight, was overly colorful but still accentuated her highly desirable figure. Especially since it was so low cut that her naked breasts could be seen almost to the nipples.
Then, just before she was about to leave, Jessica lifted her dress up and pulled her panties higher and stretched it tightly between her legs, which rattled me considerably when the material slid between her thick labias and came to rest against her clit, rubbing it pleasantly with her every movement. It was an appalling realization, that I was no longer just an amused voyeur but an active participant in everything that she will be doing from that moment on, which went quite well along with the devil's verdict.
It gave me a mental shiver and I panicked, attempting to take over her mind, now feeling that I had to control her rather than remain a neutral observer of Jessica's activities. But I failed because I had no idea what to do other than exert pressure on her mind, which only served to confuse her, making Jessica freeze in the midst of reaching for her purse. That's no good, I thought, withdrawing as I ceased pressuring her mind, letting her continue with what she was doing.
She's either too stupid to understand what happened, I thought, or my presence within her body is totally obscure. I sensed that I'll have to wait for an opportunity when Jessica's mind became dormant in order to try to take over again. I knew, and it saddened me to realize that the only way to gain control of her body was to obliterate her mind. And viewed from any point I tried to, it meant that my own survival depended on killing her. It was murder, albeit unseen and unpunishable, but murder nonetheless, and it hurt all of my senses of morality, even as an escapee from hell.
What transpired next was worse, yet it served to quell my misgivings about doing Jessica in. My first impressions of her social sphere and status were proved quite correct once she left the apartment house, which I was easily able to recognize as being in West Los Angeles. She parked at a dilapidated looking bar on La Cienega Boulevard and took a seat across from the drink that the bartender had poured as soon as he saw her coming in. The raw taste of the cheap whiskey going down her throat was quite disturbing to me, who had always preferred drinking expensive French cognac and savored it's delicate taste.
The goings-on in the bar were in keeping with the cheap liquor that it served. The patrons looked and behaved like the worst thugs I could have ever imagined existed in such close proximity to Beverly Hills. And the way they treated Jessica was shockingly degrading since most of the men handled her with open sexual familiarity, patting her breasts and behind as though all had been to bed with her at one time or another. Thirty minutes and three drinks later, just as the barman put a big sandwich in front of her, a new patron dropped into the stool next to Jessica.
The man looked and behaved like a truck driver taking a short rest from a cross-country trip. He was huge, with an immense beer belly spilling over his belt, and every visible space on his arms was covered with tattoos. It seemed as though he was just the kind of man that Jessica had hoped to meet as she turned to him soon afterwards, laid her hand on his bulging crotch and invited him to go home with her. When he agreed enthusiastically, she wrote down her address and gave him a spare key to the apartment, leaving very soon afterwards, waving to the man who remained at the bar sipping his beer, and winked happily at the rest of the patrons.
When the trucker appeared in the bedroom, where Jessica waited for him lying naked on her bed made me quite sick as she sat up and reached with both hands to grab the man's throbbing cock. My mind screamed with terror when I felt the man penetrate her body, and every nerve that connected her excited body to my tormented mind had been ignited—first with revulsion and then with shocking pleasure. Yet, as they engaged in a variety of sexual acts that I had always considered to be debased and deviant, I began enjoying them.
The next indignity I suffered happened the moment the man left, when another of the bar patrons showed up, dropped his pants, and climbed on top of Jessica to begin again where the trucker had stopped a moment before. This time, since I was prepared for it from the moment the man undressed, their raw sex did not disturb me as much as the first one did since I was able to accept it very much as Jessica did, with unrestrained pleasure that I could not believe I was deriving from it. The next man, customer actually as I realized since all dropped large bills into a cookie jar that rested on the dresser on their way out, pleased me even more.
When the tenth customer of the night undressed he told Jessica that he was the last man in line, and that she better perform better for him than for all of the others. She laughed loudly before kissing him passionately as though he were a boyfriend, and proceeded to give him exactly what he requested with seemingly great personal pleasure. I was quite shocked and repulsed at first when the man kissed her and I felt his tongue in Jessica's mouth and his whiskers rubbing against her face, but I quickly understood why she treated this customer so specially as he was an accomplished lover—squeezing her breasts and butt and tweaking her nipples constantly until she screamed with pleasure. And damn it, with me joining them shamelessly from my mental prison.
In the midst of it all, I suddenly burst into an inner laughter when I realized and accepted that this was no punishment at all as the demons had expected it to be for a man of my refined social standing, but the best sexual pleasure I had ever had, and that being a literally filthy slut was a reward rather than a penalty. God, I loved being fucked like this while being a woman with extremely sensitive tits and a pussy, and I decided that truly becoming one must be my immediate goal.
So, hard as it was for me not to be trapped by the erotic affect on my mind through Jessica's flesh, I finally detached myself from her completely, and waited for the opportunity to strike. It came about when I felt her mind unfocused while her body thrashed violently in sexual ecstasy, signaling me to to make my move for independence. I did it quickly and without conscious thought, mentally fashioning my mind into an envelope-like form, wrapping it around her mind and squeezing it with all my might.
It was disconcerting to me a moment later when the customer, unaware of what had just happened, penetrated Jessica's body again and began pumping until he climaxed—with me coming along with him, feeling elated to be truly alive again and enjoying such an enormous sensual gratification. I watched with interest, though quite bleary eyed from mental and physical exhaustion, as my customer dressed and then made a production of dropping two hundred dollar bills into the jar after patting my butt affectionately. I dropped to the pillow as soon as I heard the front door close, and not caring that the entire bed was soaked with semen, nor that I could feel much more of the pungent cum flowing out from between my legs.
Shit, I thought, here I am, a dying old man twenty-four hours ago, now living in the body of a young, sexy whore who fucked her customers with great pleasure like they were her boyfriends. And if that was not enough, when I finally took hold of her body and could've easily pushed the last customer off of me, I let him fuck me with as much enthusiasm as Jessica did just a minute before. Does that make me a whore, too? I don't know about that but the one thing I do know is that I like being a bonafide female slut.
I burst into sudden loud laughter. God, if my old friends could have seen me in action just now they would've all died laughing on the spot. But on the other hand, maybe they too would've climbed on top and fucked me just like the other guys did. Sure they would, considering that I'd turned out to be such a willing, sexy looking Valkyrie. Oh, the hell with it. I am who I've become so I better get used to it and accept it because it's good to be alive and breathing even if I got a pussy and big tits, and a big sexual appetite do match.
My final thought before I fell asleep while holding up my bruised breasts were that I've become quite familiar with Jessica's lifestyle and how willing a participant I was in it, but that I knew very little about her other than her filthy personal habits and sexual predilection. Hell, I didn't know her last name nor who she truly was, what she did for a living other than being a whore, or who were her friends and family if there were any.
Chapter Two
I was confused for a moment when I woke up about who and where I was, but a whiff of the pungent smell of spent cum that filled the room and my bed, and the dry gobs of it all over my body brought me back to reality instantly and I realized that I had been turned into a young woman called Jessica, and that I had spent the previous night fucking my brains out with paying customers.
It wasn't just the room and bed that stank, but my whole body as well since one of Jessica's pleasures was to have men spill their cum all over her, particularly between her breasts. And since the bed had been thoroughly soaked, I could feel it in my hair as well and an urgent need to wash myself thoroughly made it imperative that I do so. And I needed to piss urgently as well, but before anything, I needed to find a clean towel to dry myself with.
Digging in the chest of drawers, I found a couple of towels that although they weren't sparkling did seem to have been washed lately, so I grabbed them and rushed to the toilet. Remembering Jessica's filthy personal habits, I couldn't make myself sit on the toilet so I hung the towels on the shower door and went in, crouched over the drain and pissed. It was a good idea to do that because it taught me how to aim it so I wouldn't spray urine on my thighs like Jessica did, and gave me a pretty good idea where a woman's pee comes from.
Once I relieved myself, I stepped out for a moment and let the hot water run until the bathroom was filled with steam , after which I cleaned the shower as best I could with a sponge that I found on the small wooden bench placed in a corner of the stall. I then used the secondary hand-held showerhead and put it on its strongest stream after inserting it into my vagina, just as I'd seen many women do, and filled my insides with gushing water until I felt totally cleansed of all the cum that was spilled into me.
Then, seeing a razor sitting on the small hanging vanity and remembering how soaked my bush had with the smelly cum, I took it and a can of shaving cream that had been placed there, and sat on the stool with my legs spread widely. I began shaving very carefully once I rubbed the cream into my bush, but quickly realized that shaving my crotch and pubs without cutting myself was just as easy as it had been most of my life to shave my face. Once done, I also shaved my underarms for good measure, and ran the rather hot water over my entire body before lathering it with the cheap scented soap. Once I finished and stepped out of the shower feeling clean and refreshed, I dried myself thoroughly with the clean towels.
By then I could feel hunger pains in my stomach so I decided to dress as best I could and go out to the coffee shop that I saw around the corner at the end of the block. Putting a twenty dollar bill from the fuck money jar in my jeans' pocket, I only took the keychain that I found on the coffee table and walked out of the apartment knowing that I looked a mess with uncombed hair because I couldn't bring myself to use any of Jessica's filthy personal items.
To my surprise and delight I found a liquor store next to the coffee shop and bought a pack of my favorite brand cigarettes and a cheap lighter, intending to have a smoke after breakfast but when I opened the door I realized that these were the seventies when everyone still smoked everywhere, so as soon as I was seated at the counter I lit up. The waitress, who apparently knew Jessica, poured me a cup of coffee and smiled.
"Your regular?"
"Sure. I'm starving."
"The way you look you must've had a rough night so I'm not surprised. Anyway, food will be here in a minute."
The food was plentiful and cheap even by those day's standards, and by the time I left I felt full and quite happy to be young and healthy again, and smiled to myself when I realized that this was supposedly a punishment foisted on me by the damn demons. Wow, some punishment.
Back at the apartment, I knew that I needed to start finding out who exactly I had become so that I'll be able to figure everything out, gather personal information before the phone rang or someone who know Jessica knocked on my door. I considered it my first, most important task, to conduct a very fast, thorough search of the apartment and look for documents and clues about the person I only knew as Jessica. Which in essence was me now.
As I walked in I suddenly felt a twinge of pain in my shoulder muscles and realized that it must be as a result of the weight of my heavy breasts, which have been jiggling freely for at least twenty-four hours, so I better fetter them or the pan will get quite serious in no time. To alleviate the problem, I went into the bedroom and rummaged through the drawer where Jessica had kept all her panties and bras. My first find, still in its original bag, were a set of full size panties and another of bikinis, which I decided not to put on until the place was cleaned up, and the second, also brand new, was a bag full of tiny sports bras, which I remembered many women wore on very hot days, which I always found to be highly erotic and immodest because they seemed to make their nipples pucker up constantly.
Well, what the hell, now that I got titts and big nipples mine'll stick out just like theirs did, probably even more because mine are bigger than most. I looked at one of the clean loose ones, a wrinkled balled red sports bra and grinned. It's actually a tiny little thing, I thought, but highly elastic so it'll stretch wide enough to contain my big size tits. I took my none too clean sweatshirt off and expanded the highly elastic bra over my head and chest like a T-shirt, then pulled it until the bottom reached just below and under my breasts. It felt strange but was comfortable once I adjusted both breasts within it until they were pressed together and motionless when I tested it by jumping up and down.
Okay, now I better start exploring but first I better open all the windows to air out the place to get rid of the pungent smell it was filled with.
I had decided to begin my search in the kitchen and then proceed to the living room, bathroom, and through the bedroom. I opened every one of the kitchen drawers and found nothing of significance other than to observe that it was dirty and disorganized as everything else was, but it was full of a huge amount of junk food and very little of the usual foods and staples. The place was utterly filthy—the sink was full of dishes that looked as though they had been there for quite a long time and the counters were laden with the overflow that did not fit in the sink. The stench of all the rotten food remnants was revolting, yet I was not surprised since it fit my first impression of the apartment, which felt terribly neglected.
The living room reflected almost no personality other than being dusty, dirty, and shabby. The large bookcase was filled with decorator type books that looked as if they had never been touched, and installed in the cabinet was a very expensive stereo system and a large screen TV and VCR. I opened the built-in bar and found it well stocked and, noticing a bottle of good brandy, I washed a glass and poured myself a hefty drink. I sipped it very slowly, savoring the warm feeling that it left on its way down, and continued my search. Next to the stereo I found a pile of junky tapes but to my surprise and pleasure I also found among them several excellent classical tapes in their original wrappers. A shopping mistake, I was sure as I unwrapped Vivaldi's Four Seasons, my biggest favorite, and sat on the recliner, letting the soothing and beautifully rich sounds surround and mellow me. My drink was almost finished just as the music ended, both of which made me feel much more at ease.
I was about to move on and realized that where there was a VCR there had to be some video tapes which should tell me more about Jessica's character and tastes. Returning to the bookcase, I found a drawer containing a large selection of movies and shows, tagged and surprisingly well organized. But then I saw that beneath the top two layers were more tapes, all numbered rather than titled. Curiously, I pulled one out at random and inserted it in the VCR. The pictures began unfolding without showing any titles and, realizing what was developing, I nearly choked on the last sip that I had just taken of my drink. It was the filthiest, most depraved movie I had ever seen, of bizarre, sick sexual acts. I was sure that this tape and probably all of them, was purchased through crude magazine ads one can only find in hardcore sex shops.
I put the tape back, never bothering to check the others. The thought of anyone enjoying the ugliness of this kind of perversions had always felt abhorrent and repulsive to me since I couldn't tolerate the sight of men with cocks like horses fucking tiny women, or huge, deformed women with watermelon breasts getting fucked and sucked by both men and women. And even worse than that, people inflicting pain on one another for perverse pleasures while real blood and cum dripped between their sweaty bodies. It made me ill, offending my sensibilities to a degree that I had never thought possible.
As I left the living room I noticed that the walls were covered with strange paintings, mostly cultish abstracts of weirdly shaped animals and humans engaged in sex. It made me shiver as I looked closer at them, thinking that they were even more nauseating than the tapes. My impression of Jessica's deviant tastes in visual sex and art was that she must have been a bizarre person who, most likely, was also an active participant in similarly sick activities. The idea that I had become her, despite having been such a philanderer in my previous life was frightening, and I no longer felt sorry that it had been her who had died rather than myself.
When I entered the bathroom I quickly confirmed my impression of the place from the previous night and that morning, as dim sunlight penetrated through a window above a counter and sink, both literally covered with green mildew growing all around them. Which showed that it must have been a very long time since it had been properly cleaned, and the entire area had a musty smell of dank and dirty clothes that lay in piles all over. It was a continuation of everything else I had found so far—a cold, dreary, and filthy place that made me itch all over as though I'd been infected by everything that I touched.
Making matters worse, I found a drawer full of makeup and fingernail paraphernalia that looked much too formidable to master. What worried me even more was my inability to function in such a totally unfamiliar world as I suddenly became fidgety about simple, normal feminine things such as dressing and hygiene, understanding that women have a lot more to worry about their bodies and appearance than men do. And clothes. How was I going to learn what and how to dress and when to wear what?
Another realization hit me as I looked through another drawer, that as a female my personal hygienic habits were going to be drastically different from those I had had as a man. I stared bewildered at a drawer full of tampons and pads of different shapes and thicknesses, douches, and feminine deodorants. Will I have to go through all these things monthly, I wondered, and being a woman suddenly seemed not at all appealing. Coming out of my depression quickly, I knew that I will have to learn to take care of things as they occurred and not worry too much ahead of time. Actually, I felt anxious to begin the learning process of becoming a young person again, breasts and vagina not withstanding.
Leaving the bathroom, I walked into the bedroom and opened the closets. They were full of dresses, blouses, jeans, and shoes, none of which I could bring myself to touch since they smelled terribly and were unclean. This room, more than everywhere else, exuded an aura of strange and cruel sexual rituals that I could not shake because it made my participation in Jessica's sexual encounters the previous night seem innocent in comparison. I examined the room closely and finding nothing unusual on the surface, I felt quite compelled to look under the bed. What I found there justified my uncomfortable feelings—a large black case that once I opened its top I found was filled with a large collection of sadomasochistic contraptions, handcuffs, cattle prods, whips, blindfolds, and gigantic dildos. I shook with utter revulsion as I pushed the suitcase back under the bed in an attempt to hide it from myself.
I then walked over to the small, ornate desk placed against the wall and sat there staring into space for a moment while forcing myself to relax before I started checking its contents. Its surface was bare except for a silver-framed picture of a chubby little girl in a pretty Sunday dress standing between a very young looking couple. I opened all the drawers and dumped their contents on top of the desk, then took a careful inventory of all the important objects until I came up with a clearer picture of the real person who had been Jessica.
Her name was Jessica Luanne Gray, aged 24, born in Billings, Montana, who had graduated, barely, from the University of Arizona in Tucson, with an English major. I then found a recent checking account statement showing a balance of a little over $200 and a savings book with $50. I also found payroll stubs from an advertising company in Santa Monica where Jessica had worked as a receptionist, earning $1,200 per month. There were five past-due letters from credit card companies showing that she owed in excess of eight-thousand dollars, none of which had been paid despite repeated demands and threats.
I picked up the purse that Jessica had dropped on the floor when she arrived at home from the bar, anxious to get undressed and jump into bed to await the trucker. I sorted through it methodically and put aside a drivers license, lipstick, keys, small change, $50 in bills, a box of pocket size tampons, breath mints, as well as an un-cashed payroll check that was two week old. I found nothing else to reveal any hidden secrets.
My concern that Jessica had close relatives who might want to see her vanished as soon as I found a yellow newspaper article. It was dated two years earlier and described the fatal car crash of Mr. and Mrs. Gray, who were survived by their only child, Jessica, with no other living relatives. From the letters that I found, Jessica had tried to collect a large sum of money from the insurance company but her claim was rejected since the accident had occurred because her parents were drunk at the time of the accident. The rest of the items were just odds and ends, a few bills, stamps, expired credit cards, and an address book with barely any names in it. I put everything into a gym bag that I found in the closet, including all the bills for payment, which I hoped to be able to take care of in the very near future.
I assessed my position from all the information I found—which I felt was highly depressing since I was a young woman on the verge of bankruptcy with a low-level job and living in awful filth and squalor. The only redeeming factor about Jessica was that she had no known relatives and that there was no evidence of any close male or female relationships. I knew that it would be tough for me to step into her shoes but not impossible, and I was not overly worried about her insolvency or the horrible environment that she had lived in because I was sure that I will find a quick solution for that as well. Besides, what choice did I really have in the matter other than move on to the next whore that Samael had intended to provide me with?
I kept wondering if there was more to Jessica's life other than whoring and filth, something hidden and secretive more than the tapes and sexual implements were. Meanwhile, I intended to take advantage of my new youth and explore life as a woman regardless of being utterly inexperienced, a thought that became captivating once I considered it unemotionally. I was excited and impatient to find out more about the body under my control, and how my mind would be affected by the feminine urges that I had so enjoyed the night before--I was anxious to get on with my new life despite the nasty demons' plan to make me miserable.
But how? I wracked my brain for proper solutions to being almost penniless other than Jessica's last payroll check, and about living in a pigsty without a clean change of clothing. Again, I became desperate after I sat at the desk and listed my options on a piece of paper, none of which seemed to be viable. Then, suddenly remembering the money that each customer had left on top of the dresser before leaving, I burst into laughter.
Son of a bitch. Last night couldn't have been the only time that she serviced a bunch of guys because it looked like it was her normal mode of operating at least a few times a week—using this place like a real whore's crib. Then there must be a bunch of money that she hid someplace here because from everything I saw she wasn't really a big spender. But where could she have stashed it? I forced myself to consider all of the possible hiding places but realized from everything that I'd learned about Jessica so far that she had not been smart enough to invent a devious hiding place. So where was it?
Shit, I suddenly mumbled, she must've been clever enough to hide it in plain sight where no one will look for money—in the sex toys suitcase that no one would want to touch stuff that had been inserted in pussies and assholes and actually reeked of it. I rushed over and dropped next to the bed, pulled the case out and brought it to the desk together with the money-filled cookie jar.
I was not surprised to find nearly a fifteen-hundred dollars when I upended the jar on the desk, two hundred of which, I chuckled, I'd partially earned myself with the last guy. Then, opening the suitcase and lifting out the toy tray, I found the bottom full of stacks of bills neatly package with rubber bands. All were of fifty and one-hundred dollar denominations that contained five-thousand dollars each. At a rough estimate, I thought, it contained well over two-hundred thousand dollars, all earned while she satisfied the sexual whims of pretty sick men and possibly women as well.
My first thought when I saw the money arranged so neatly in front of me was to bolt. Hell, I was born and lived my whole life in Boston other than four years in the army, and knew very little about places like Los Angeles other than what I'd learned over the years in my travels. So why not go back to my roots and be comfortable in my old environment even as the woman that I'd become, living like a queen with this pile of money I'd just found? It was a great idea but it suddenly dawned on me that I'd been reincarnated by the damn demons to be punished rather than have fun and that once they discover what I did, and I was sure that they will, I'd be returned to hell and thrown into the lava pool.
No, I better not chance it and stay where I am. But that didn't mean that I have to live like the pig that Jessica was, and that the money should solve my most urgent survival needs and will also allow me to repay all her debts so that I won't lose my credit and be able to live decently. Oh, and buy new clothes to wear from my skin outward.
First thing first, I thought, considering that I've suddenly acquired a new gender, I must start thinking of myself as a woman and refer to myself with a female name. I uttered the name Jessica Gray out loud, which sounded fine to me despite my knowledge that she had been a ghastly whore. So from here on, I'm Jessica Gray and Nicolas Lorraine is no more.
My next task, I decided, was to go through all of Jessica's possessions and discard any which were not brand new and in their original wrappings. And the second is to clean the place up from top to bottom with strong cleansers which, since I saw none around, I'll have to go out and buy. I started by taking out a full roll of heavy-duty garbage bags from the pantry closet and went through every closet and drawer in the place, stuffing everything that I wanted to discard into the plastic bags. I also got rid of all of Jessica's cheap jewelry and her purse with all its contents except for the wallet with its essential items, the makeup things, and all of her toiletries.
Once finished, I had six large bags filled to capacity with discards, which left me very little to wear but I didn't mind it since I planned to replace them all with new items from a list that I prepared while I was bagging them. When I finished I took the few clean things that I found and laid them on the bathroom counter after washing it thoroughly and did the same to the toilet seat since I needed to use it badly, which went just fine since I was more familiar now with the feminine urinating system. And the only disturbing issue I had with using the toilet for the first time was my discovery that a woman's anus was too close to her vaginal opening and I shuddered to think about the possibility of infecting myself if I wasn't careful in cleaning it. Then, thinking about peeing and hygiene, I realized that shaving my bush was a blind stroke of genius for the man that I used to be because this way I was able to clean my denuded pussy with ease and not have any residue left. Besides, I thought, I liked the soft feel of my pubes so much that I'll just have to keep shaving them.