A Cheap Purse and Heels, Inception

(All characters who engage in adult activity are over 18 years of age)

By around 2150 AD, AI and biomedical technology had advanced sufficiently such that the ability to transfer one's consciousness had become a reality. A person could have most of what made them who they were transferred to another human mind and body. A lifetime of memories and experiences as well as personality and beliefs could be transferred with about 99% integrity. The transfer process was quite expensive, and ethically debatable, primarily due to the requirement for growing healthy human bodies to be used as transfer recipients, but most of the world's population had accepted the practice. The person undergoing transference would die as a result of the procedure - that is, the original person's mind would terminate, followed by their body, but a copy of who they were would then live on in a new body. For the copy, it seemed like immortality. Imperfect as it was, many still sought to follow this path, especially knowing that they would die eventually anyway. People chose a moment in their life to be transferred, and to begin a new life in a youthful body. Media was filled with stories of uploaded intelligence and mind transference - different things, yet related, and all of it set the stage for people to open their minds, quite literally, to new possibilities.

One could select their desired transfer body from a wide variety of "blank" humans, fertilized and nurtured to age 18 in industrial scale medical facilities. Kept sedated from infancy, these blank humans were not given individual rights and protections until they received a consciousness transfer.

There were transfer lotteries for those who would otherwise never have the financial means to afford a transfer.

I was an ordinary, average guy who lived a quiet life with a beloved dog in a house full of plants. I made a successful living as the manager of an upscale restaurant, and amassed a significant amount of wealth by the time I aged into my mid-forties. I lost my dog suddenly, unexpectedly, just after she turned twelve. My grief was profound and it made me consider the nature of life and death in ways that I had not considered them prior to the loss. I had dated a few women over the years, but had never married (the women I really wanted were out of my league), so I had no real attachments in my current life.

I decided to transfer. My current self would join my dog, even if this meant that we would be nothing more than ghosts continuing on together in the memories of those who once knew us, while my future transferred self would begin a new life.

I chose a white male transfer target, much like my current self, but with blond hair and gray eyes. The target body was healthy and possessed excellent facial symmetry. Women should find the future me attractive.

Current laws provided for the conveyance of identity, including citizen level, as well as all property and financial assets from a deceased donor to their target recipient. What I was not prepared for was how deeply the criminal element had extended its reach inside the business of consciousness transfers. They targeted my three million credit net worth in a very modern way. A few quick changes made by a technician whose family was being threatened was all it took to redirect the transfer of a criminal consciousness into my target recipient mind and body, and to route my consciousness to an alternate target. Every transfer required a completion protocol, so no one who underwent transfer could just be "deleted," but in my case, all of my formal identity links were severed - it was the ultimate identity theft.

My new mind and body are still sedated. Some text readouts flash within the holo-display above me as my transfer nears completion.

"Biological sperm source (father): European White male"

"Biological ova source (mother): South American Hispanic female"

"Sex: female, XX chromosome pairing"

"Age: 18 years, 2 months"

"Height: 5 ft, 3 in"

"Weight: 106 lbs."

"Unknown error: Previous identity link unknown."

"No previous status or financials available - new individual will enter society at the lowest citizen tier."

"Assign minimum clothing and personal items and physical credits sufficient for food for 4 days, and release."

"Geolocation for release: Western fringe of the Chicago megalopolis, North America"

...

I gaze into the full length mirror before me and tilt my head a little to one side, confirming that it is me, but I do not see who I expected to see. I'm currently naked, and undeniably, a girl.

On the bed behind me are a few items of feminine clothing and a purse.

I peer more closely into the mirror to study my face, which is round, pretty, with a small nose and dark brown eyes. My light brown skin is smooth and soft to the touch. I have long fine straight black hair, parted in the middle with no bangs, and falling evenly on each side of my face down to just above my breasts. "I've got tits," I think to myself. They are on the small side, pert and pointy, poking maybe a bit more than 2 inches outward from my chest. I touch one nipple and a slight shiver of sensation runs through me. This leads me to bend down a little to peer between my legs - confirming that, yes, I have a vagina. Curiosity compels me to touch my labia gently. I separate the two lips slightly, just enough to allow me to see a little way inside my pussy.

"What the fuck happened?" I think.

I straighten and then pad over to the bed where I turn and sit down upon its edge. I begin to dress. First I pull on a pair of cream colored panties. They have a feminine frill along the waist band. Next I manage to squirm into some kind of top - it's a sort of khaki color - the label on the package reads: "all purpose bralette, size: women's petite." I'm figuring things out as I go, having never worn women's clothing before. I lift both feet and slip them through, into, a skirt - it's black, pleated, and when I pull it up to my waistline, the hem falls about 2 inches above my knees. What remains is a dark red denim jacket, a cheap purse, and some strappy shoes. The shoes are black with rounded, closed toes, blocky heels, and ankle straps. I manage to fasten the shoes on my feet and then pick up the purse. It's dark brown and looks like it's made of leather but it's probably fake. I open the purse with slender fingers and sort through the contents. There is a one month supply of birth control pills, six tampons, two packets of baby wipes, some physical credit chips, and a citizen's ID card. The ID card, my ID card, identifies me as Isabel Ondina, citizen tier 1. It's a standard card, chipped and loaded with DNA and other biometric data specific to me. I have no place of residence; nothing more than the clothes on my back and the few credits in my purse.

I flap the card in the air above my lap. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, what am I going to do?" I ask myself silently.

There is a knock on the door and then it opens.

"Ready to go," a stern looking female security guard inquires.

"Um, yes, I guess," I reply. It's the first time I have heard my new voice. The sound is pretty, soft and feminine, not whiny or screeching.

"But, there's a problem," I begin.

"Sorry honey, I can't help you. We've already done everything we can for you based on your citizen tier. You're on your own now," she says firmly and with a hint of impatience in her tone. "Please follow me."

"She's doing her job and her job is to get me out of here and on the streets," I think. I didn't know at the moment just how literal being on the streets would end up being.

I put my ID card back inside my purse, slip the jacket on, sling the purse strap over my shoulder, and move to follow her. My first few steps in the heels are a bit tentative, but they aren't that high, and they're blocky, so I adjust fairly quickly. I'm a little self-conscious about the clunky sound they make against the floor as I walk, but it is what it is. It's a sound that would have turned my head, before, but now, I'm the one making the sound.

I walk along a little behind the guard until we reach a security barrier. A few full body scanners are the only path from one side of the barrier to the other. I can see the exit from the building just a little way past the barrier.

"Just step through - it will scan your ID card too," the guard intones.

I look at her briefly and then step through.

A light turns green and an artificial voice recites, "Identification verified - please proceed to the exit."

"Good luck honey," the guard calls out as she turns away; my face already a forgotten blur in her memory.

...

Ten days later.

I'm out of credits. I haven't had much to eat for the past few days. I'm holed up in a garden shed at the back of some old man's dingy property. The rusted lock on the shed door was broken before I found the place. I doubt the old man has checked it in a few years. I picked the spot because it is behind a shopping strip with a few cheap food joints. At night, when they close, I can dumpster dive for discarded food which is still suitable for human consumption. My bed is a few sheets of cardboard - same for my "blankets." It's late September, and it will start getting cold soon. Midwestern winters are hell. I know that I cannot continue like this for long.

Thank god for baby wipes, but I'm out now. I need a shower - a really long one. This isn't how things were supposed to be. A day after my "release" from the transfer facility, I managed to find a free internet cafe of sorts. I was able to search for my intended identity only to find that I (the identity thief) had apparently moved to Russia, with no known address or contact information. "So much for that," I thought. Even if there was something that I could have done to seek justice, it was moot now. I would have to make my way forward in my new reality. I had started taking the birth control pills, because, why not - if I was assaulted, I sure as hell didn't want to get pregnant.

I'm starting to come to terms with being female, and seeing things through a different lens; needing to be more careful with regard to just about everything I do. I'm not sure if I like dicks yet, but, there is a curiosity. I still look at women but it's more with an eye toward comparison - them against me. At least when I look at them, they don't think I'm a creep. A few actually smile - I'm part of the sisterhood now.

The next evening, just after dusk, I'm searching through the trash behind one of the food joints, intent on my effort.

"Hey," a female voice calls out behind me.

My whole upper body jerks in surprise, and I'm hit with that intense feeling of being punched in the chest that accompanies being frightened suddenly. My heart is racing as I turn to look at the girl. "Hey," I respond, appraising her.

She's dressed in a sexually provocative fashion; a little trashy slutty but not overly so. She appears clean and well groomed. She's white, with fairly long blond brown hair. She has some piercings in her ears and a ring on one side of her nose.

"I'm Lexi, short for Alexis," she offers.

"I'm... Isa, short for Isabel," I reply.

"Nice to meet you Isa," Lexi responds with a smile. "You look like you could use some help. How did you... get here, I mean, in this situation?" she asks.

"It's complicated," I respond. "But, about the help, um, yes, I'm kind of out of options... I also know that nothing is free. What kind of help are we talking about here?"

"It's kind of a work for benefits exchange. You work, and you're taken care of - roof over your head, food, clothes, some credits. It's what I do," she says. Her eyes reveal more than what she has said with just her words.

"So, sex work," I say.

Lexi nods.

"Fuck," I say more for my own benefit than in response to Lexi.

"So, that's a yes then," Lexi says. She makes a small gesture with her hand and two rough looking black guys step out from around the corner of the building where they had been lurking.

I doubt I have any real choice here. It's say yes, or at the very least they're going to beat the shit out of me.

"Ok," I sigh.

"Don't worry, I'll help you," Lexi says.

When I don't move, she comes to me and takes my hand, "Come on, let's get you cleaned up and get you something to eat."

On the way to their SUV, I can see that at least one of the guys is carrying a gun. I climb in the back, next to Lexi, and, a short ride later, we arrive at what looks like a converted hotel. Lexi leads me up some stairs to a room on the second floor. I can see one of the guys still inside the parked SUV, on sentry I guess, while the other guy walks off in a different direction.

I've just taken my first steps toward becoming a street whore and sometime party girl for a rough gang on Chicago's west side.

The next day.

Lexi stayed in the room with me overnight; probably to keep watch on me, but she seems genuine - I mean, I'm pretty sure she's being straight with me. I told her that I'm newly transferred, and that I'm a virgin. Apparently this has given me a one day reprieve from one of the pimps breaking me in. Lexi says they're fighting over who will do me first. So, they (Lexi, one of the guys from last night, and a new guy) have taken me to a local tattoo and piercing parlor. I think Lexi is enjoying her babysitting job (me). It gives her a break from turning tricks.

They put me in the tattoo chair first. The artist is a thirty-something looking black woman with multi-colored dreadlocks. I'm doing my best not to squirm in the chair or complain about the pain as the needle punctures my flesh over and over and over, inking me indelibly.

"You're getting a black spade tattooed on the back of your left calf and another matching spade on the inside of your right wrist. It's the gang's way of marking their whores. It shows that you are black owned and that you take black dick. It's for your own good really. Guys will know not to rough you up or try to get away with not paying you - they know the gang will come after them if they do," Lexi explains over the buzz of the tattoo machine.

"Fucking great," I think to myself, but, I feel a tiny hint of something pleasurable in my pussy when she talks about being owned and taking dick. I wonder if these thoughts and feelings were buried deep within me all along, or if my new female biology is shaping them; or perhaps a combination of both.

Once the tattoos are complete, Lexi pulls me over to another girl who is going to do the piercings.

"Can I just get my ears done, for now?" I ask.

Lexi glances to one of the guys and he nods. It's so slight it's almost as if he just moved his head incidentally.

"Yeah, it's ok for now," she says, "but sometimes we do parties and stuff. A lot of guys like blowjobs from a girl with a pierced tongue, so you're going to have to get that done eventually."

I sigh inwardly. "Got it," I respond.

For now, the girl does a single piercing in each of my lobes, and a double helix piercing on both of my ears. She inserts a surgical steel stud in each lobe and two simple loops made from the same material into the new helix piercings on both of my ears.

"Give it a few weeks and then you can wear whatever you want," she instructs.

"Ok, thank you," I reply.

It's time to go...

During the ride back to the hotel, Lexi tells me what I should charge when I'm on the street, "40 credits for a hand job, 60 credits for a blowjob, and 100 credits for a straight fuck."

"We don't do anal on the street - that's reserved for parties when it's arranged in advance, and we can prepare for it," she explains.

"There's an agreement with the cops - they won't arrest you, but if one of them approaches you, you're expected to give them sex for free."

"You need to bring in a certain amount every week. If you are on your period, tell your pimp, and he'll reduce the amount a little, but not much. You won't be able to just stand around on a corner and wait for it. You'll have to chase dick if you want to make enough credits; and don't even think about skimming. They'll give you some credits each week after you give them everything. It's enough for cheap food, clothes, makeup, and something nice now and then. If you get sick, tell your pimp right away and he'll get you meds, an antibiotic injection, whatever you need. Oh, and if someone in the gang wants to fuck you, you let them. I think that's it," Lexi finishes.

I sigh softly and slump further down in my seat, but before turning to look out the window for a little while, I lock eyes with Lexi, long enough to let her know that I understand, everything. She actually reaches to take my hand, and doesn't let go until we arrive back at the hotel. I've decided that I'm just going to call it gangland in my mind, from now on.

Midevening of the same day.

"Time to become a fuck toy," I think to myself. I understand the desire of men, what they want, and how relentless they can be in their pursuit of it. I was once on their side of things. Most of the world revolves around pussy in one way or another. Now, I have it, and they want it. My body is literally designed to take dick, to make it as pleasurable as possible for men to dump their cum inside me.

There is a freedom in surrender.

A rough looking guy with a scar along the right side of his face enters my room and tells me that his name is Jabari; Jab for short. He's a good foot taller than me, and probably weighs twice what I do. He's big and muscled, but his belly sticks out a little.

"Show me," he says in a gruff voice.

I sigh very softly, accepting that this is going to happen. I undress in a functional way, like I was simply removing my clothes before taking a shower.

"You need to work on your sexy," Jab growls.

"Touch yourself. Play with your tits and rub your cunt a little. Show me how much you want to fuck. I don't care if you do or not. It's your job to act like you want to be fucked, all the time, with every guy," he instructs.

"Yes, Ok, I understand," I say softly. My prior self is at war with who I'm becoming as Isa. Before, as my previous self, I would have been repulsed by what is about to happen to me, but, now, I'm different, changing. I can see myself as the princess in a fairy tale, or as a young woman in love on her wedding night, ready to bed her husband. I'm being who and what I feel like I should be, now. I actually do want to express myself sexually, fully, in my current body. I want to spread my legs and take cock. I can be the gentle one, the one who receives, the one who pleasure is found within. If I'm being completely honest with myself, I feel a perverse thrill thinking about being a prostitute. I must have some masochistic tendencies, because the fact that I do not have a choice seems to heighten the feelings.

I sit down on the edge of the bed and begin to fondle my small tits with my left hand. At the same time, I reach between my legs with my right hand and start to stroke my middle finger against my clit. Apprehension over the looming loss of my virginity wars with the early stirrings of self pleasure.

Jab watches me intently.

I can see the bulge of his dick begin to grow inside his pants.

Jab narrows his eyes as he moves toward me. He stops with his belly and groin a hands reach in front of me.

"Get to work," he says roughly.

One of my fingernails catches on his zipper as I open his belt buckle, unbutton his waistband, and then tug the zipper down. Next, I reach my hands to his hips and slip my fingers inside his waistband. I carefully pull his pants down to about mid-thigh, revealing gray silk boxers. I can already smell sweat and maleness. I glance up at him, and see the anticipation in his eyes. I slowly pull his boxers downward until they bunch against his pants.

His cock and balls are free, and, holy shit is he packing. Each of his balls is about the size of one of my small hands curled into a fist. His thick swollen shaft points almost straight up now and must be around 8 inches in length. The mushroom shaped head is darker than the rest of his dark brown skin.

"Time to... do this," I think to myself.

I reach my right hand to his cock and encircle his throbbing shaft with my fingers. I begin to stroke him. I slip my other hand under his balls and caress the coarse textured flesh there. My touch is feather light. After a time, I grip him more firmly and start to jerk him off, but, slowly. I rub my thumb pad against the bottom of his glans and bring my face and mouth closer. My warm moist breath teases his dick.

I feel him tangle his fingers in my hair and force my mouth onto his cock. I part my lips and take him in. I can only take the head along with an inch or two of his shaft before I feel him push against my throat. I work my spit onto him for lubrication. I seal my lips around his dick and place my hands on his muscled thighs. I can feel his stomach brush against my forehead.

I start to bob my head, but he pulls my head up, off his dick, and pushes me backward onto the bed.

I scoot back and look at him. I'm braced on my elbows and my knees are drawn up a little.

He comes forward, above me. The bed squeaks and sags with his weight. He moves into position between my legs.

I lay back. My shoulders are against the bed with only my head raised a little. My long black hair spills back against the pillows. I spread my legs apart and draw them up - my small feet are in the air at his sides as he positions his cock against my virgin slit and works the head between my folds.

"This is it," I think to myself.

He pushes inward, until he meets my virginity.

It feels tight, full, something that doesn't belong inside me, and yet, it does. I brace myself...

He grips my hips and ass with his hands. He holds me in position like a doll, and then, using his full weight and strength, he thrusts.

I hear myself whimper with pain as he tears through my hymen and buries his thick black cock balls deep inside my tight cunt.

In the brief moment before he starts pounding me, I think, "this is me now."

Jab starts fucking me in earnest.

Beneath him, I remain mostly passive, with my hands pressed to his muscled shoulders and my legs drawn up and held against his sides, taking what he gives me. I cannot say that I feel much pleasure or excitement, though clearly Jab is enjoying himself. I wonder how many women have been in this position and felt as I do. I notice an odd stain on the ceiling - probably an old leak from above combined with dirt - it reminds me of a spider.

Jab's pace quickens and his breath grows ragged. His thrusts become more urgent. He's pummeling me into the bed beneath him.

It feels like he's going to fuck my lower body through the bed and down against the floor. Just a little longer now...

I know he's ejaculating inside me when his thrusts become convulsions and by the slick feel inside my vagina as his cum lubricates our union.

"Well, I just got fucked," I think to myself. The merest hint of a smile plays at my lips, unseen, except by the spider on the ceiling.

...

Today is my third day on the streets. I hang with Lexi and another girl, Scarlet. I doubt it's her real name, but it suits her - she has blue eyes and an innocent looking face framed by wavy, unnaturally bright red hair. I've seen a few black girls around gangland. Some of them are whores like me, but it seems like most of the gang's hookers are girls with light complexions. I guess it's a thing.

Lexi has been helping me with my makeup. I explained to her that I never really wore much makeup before the transfer. It's a convenient truth without saying more, for now at least. I've decided that I like a dark red matte lipstick and black mascara and eyeshadow. The stuff we use is supposed to be long-lasting and at least partly waterproof.

I'm in an alley behind a bar we girls have been working. My back is against a wall and the guy who just paid me 60 credits has his hands inside my crop top, cupping my tits. He tries to kiss me, but I turn my mouth a little to one side.

After I deftly open his belt and zipper, I work his pants and underwear down enough to free his cock. I wrap my hand around his dick and start to stroke him. My fingers glide along the bottom of his shaft while my thumb rubs the top side. When I get to his tip, I rub my thumb against his glans a little, and then continue stroking.

"Yeah, that's it," he murmurs in my ear, and then follows with, "you're really pretty."

"Thanks baby," I reply softly.

I drop to my knees with my heels back against the wall, and take him into my mouth. I do my best when I'm giving a blowjob but a skillful deep throat isn't quite in my repertoire yet. After about four minutes of bobbing my head up and down, sucking his dick and working my hand near the base of his shaft, I feel him grab the sides of my head tightly and he starts bucking, surging, spewing his seed in my mouth and down my throat. It's nice that he tries to cushion the back of my head with his fingers between my head and the brick wall behind me.

"Fuck," he groans as he pulls back.

I swallow his salty sticky issue as I'm standing up, and now I can breathe again. Lexi says it's better to swallow. Guys don't like it when you spit. It's about staying safe as well as encouraging repeat customers.

"I'm glad you liked it," I whisper, before stepping up close to press a soft kiss against his cheek. I see a slight trace of my lipstick left behind on his skin. I've left my mark on him. It's time to move on. I head back into the bar to see what Lexi and Scarlet are up to, and to start looking for the next dick I can service.

...

I sleep during the day and work at night, six days a week. On my one day off, I usually end up being fucked by guys in the gang - I'm new, and only eighteen years old, so they all want to fuck me.

When I'm not fucking or sleeping, and I actually have a little quiet time to myself, I can think. At the moment, I'm considering the harsh reality that this is going to be my life, unless something significant and unforeseen should happen, and that there is pretty much zero chance that I will ever be able to afford another transfer. "Serendipity, where are you when I need you?"

I should clarify. I'm Isa now. I like being Isa. I've recognized and accepted that I like being female. I like everything about it. I like fucking as a female. Taking dick fulfills me in ways that I would struggle to explain. I'm a submissive. I will age in this body and if I should ever be in a position to transfer again, I would choose to remain female, always and forever.

When I first looked into the mirror after awakening in this body, I would have wanted to fuck me. Now, I just want to be me.

...

Mid October.

I got my tongue pierced today. Lexi says I'll be able to give better blowjobs, plus it looks fucking hot when people see it... Hopefully I will be able to speak normally again when the swelling recedes.

October 31, Halloween.

The weather has grown colder as November nears, but tonight is rather warm and gentle; it is perhaps a last breath of summer before winter wraps this city in its icy grip.

We're at a private party in some rich businessman's mansion on the outskirts of the city. There are nine guys in attendance, but only five working girls, so some of us will be doing double duty, or more. It's me, Scarlet, two black girls, and a pale blonde who I've seen a few times back at gangland, but we've never spoken. She doesn't seem very friendly. Lexi was supposed to come but her arm got cut by a john - I heard they beat the shit out of him and broke his arm for hurting her. The two black girls are dressed like cops. Blondie is rocking a movie star look, and Scarlet and I are dressed up like a pair of witches.

I'm wearing black sheer to waist pantyhose with no crotch, black leather ankle boots with 3 inch heels and a somewhat matching black leather bra with metal studs. A flimsy black wraparound thigh length skirt and a black pointed witch hat complete my outfit. I don't expect the skirt or hat to last long, given what I'll be doing. I'm wearing all black makeup: heavy black eyeshadow, mascara, a touch of blush on my cheeks, and thick glossy black lipstick. My fingernails and toenails are also painted black. When I do something, I go all in. Scarlet is dressed much like me, but she went with a dark red motif for her witch look. Scarlet is prettier than me. If I'm a 7, she's an 8 or a 9, but I've already noticed that a few of the guys can't take their eyes off of me. Some guys really like the goth look - I'm sure that I'll be fucking each of them at some point tonight.

I'm on my third glass of champagne and my head is starting to spin a little. Some pills are being shared around. Blondie pops one, but I shake my head, no, when they offer one to me. It's going to be a long night of sex and partying.

I'm in one of the most richly decorated bedrooms that I have ever seen, bent over one side of the bed with my tits dragging across the bedcovers in unison with the thrusting of the guy who is currently fucking me. It's the classic "pull the girl's arms backward while fucking her from behind" setup. He's rough - he pulls his dick back slowly until just the tip is still inside my cunt, and then he rams himself back inside me - I mean, balls deep, hips to my ass slapping, body jerking thrusts. A "please stop, but don't stop" little cry sounds in my throat each time he buries himself in me. He wraps both of my wrists in one of his hands now and grabs my long black hair with his other so he can pull my head back in rhythm with his fuck thrusts... Things are getting a little blurry for me, between the alcohol, the pain in my shoulders, and the brutal fucking I'm receiving. Then, mercifully for me, he starts to cum. I can always tell now when a guy starts to cum in me, by the desperation of his final thrusts and the feel of hot semen flowing in my pussy, making his cock slide inside me more easily. When he is finished unloading in me, he collapses on top of me, pinning me between him and the bed. We stay like this for a little while.

I'm in the bathroom cleaning myself up before rejoining the party. I've wiped my pussy but some of his cum got on my pantyhose at the edges of the crotch opening. Another fuck like that, and I'll have to ditch them.

On the way back downstairs, I see the two black hookers dressed as cops (or more like undressed now) heading into another bedroom with one of the men. It looks like he'll have his hands full for a while.

Back in the main gathering room, Scarlet is deep throating a guy on the sofa while two other guys watch and cheer her on. When they see me returning, one of them shouts, "double blowjob!" The other guy adds, "and a snowball at the end between the two bitches."

"Great," I think, "I get to suck a slimy hot mouthful of sperm and spit from Scarlet, and then swallow it all down," - which is exactly what I end up doing a few minutes later. "Ugh," I think after swallowing the sloppy mess. "I'd rather just take it direct from the source."

I wake up at around 5 in the morning. Scarlet and I are both sprawled out naked on a bed with one of the guys between us. I think he's the big man of the group. My brain is still a little fuzzy. God, I need to douche - I can smell myself - pussy and stale cum. Time to get back to gangland - two SUVs are supposed to pick us up at 6.

Late November.

First snowfall of the year today. It's just before 5 in the afternoon and it's nearly dark already. Lexi and I are strolling along one of our routes with our studded tongues outstretched, catching snowflakes, and not giving a shit about what anyone thinks of us. Good times. We enter a tree shrouded park - everything is brown and dead looking beneath the light snowfall. Leaves crackle beneath our boots. Two young guys, probably college students from the university nearby are watching us. One of them signals. A little while later, Lexi and I are both on our knees giving them blowjobs against different trees on opposite sides of the pathway. I look up and lock eyes with my guy as he blows his load. I pull back, off of him, my mouth clearly full of his cum, and then I swallow it. He watches me. I can see the desire in his eyes.

In the awkward silence while we wait for Lexi to finish, my guy makes small talk, "I wish I had a girlfriend like you - you're amazing," he says.

I offer him a wistful smile, and then, on impulse, I move closer, rise on my tiptoes, and place a gentle kiss on his cheek. "That's sweet..."

Both of our heads turn as Lexi's guy starts to ejaculate down her throat, "Fuck, nHhH, fuck,... nhhHH, fuck..." he growls as he unloads.

His knees are bent and he's sagging back against the tree from the intensity of it.

Lexi stands up, gives me a wicked, playful look, swallows, wipes her lips, and then teases, "I still win at blowjobs."

I grin. "Yep."

It's two days before Christmas. We're having trouble finding enough men in bars or on the streets with whom we can ply our trade. They're finding righteousness or family or both at this time of the year. Fewer men means fewer credits which leads to unhappy pimps. Lexi and I decide to step a little outside of our normal turf in our search for dick.

We're working a run down truck stop just off the interstate highway. There's a diner, chargers, and a few old diesel pumps. Behind the diner are some shitty restrooms. We check them out.

"Fuck, I'd rather pee in the woods than in here," Lexi quips.

"Or just... out on the pavement," I reply. "It's dark, no one would see."

We find a lonely trucker with some credits to spend, and after some clever innuendo to make sure we're on the same page about what's going to happen, we head out to his truck. He keeps a mattress in the back of his container for times when he's just too tired to keep driving. He's paying to spend time with both of us, together.

The trucker wanted to fuck me first. I'm currently on my back with my panties down around one ankle and my woolen skirt hiked up around my waist. I rub my hands gently against the trucker's flanks, coaxing him on as he plows me. His pants are pulled down below his knees and his feet are off the bottom edge of the shitty mattress where his boots keep clunking against the truck bed in rhythm with his movements. His beard is rough and irritating against my neck and cheek. Lexi has her hand down cupping the man's balls from behind as he pushes in and out of me. It isn't long before he starts grunting and his thrusts become more urgent. He starts slamming down crazy rough on me as he ejaculates, spewing his seed inside my cunt. He collapses on me and we lay like that for brief time...

My eyes meet Lexi's eyes and we share a moment of silent empathy and understanding.

The trucker rolls off of me and pulls his pants up for now.

Lexi draws his attention while I take a moment to clean up with a baby wipe grabbed hastily from the little stash I keep in my purse. I pull my panties up and scoot off to the side a little.

"I need some time before I can go again," the trucker says to Lexi when she snuggles up beside him and starts to rub his groin seductively.

"Or, I wouldn't mind seeing you two dyke it up," he offers, willing to bargain away his second fuck, with Lexi this time, for the opportunity to see two girls get it on up close.

Just as Lexi and I exchange glances again, the back doors of the container fly open and three guys wearing ski masks over their faces and holding handguns, rush at us. Two of the men climb up into the container while the third remains just outside.

One of the thugs inside the container points a gun at the trucker. "Don't be a fucking hero," he growls. "We just want the bitches."

The trucker raises his hands in a show of surrender. He's not going to do anything.

The other guy inside the container slips his gun into his belt and whips out some thick black tie wraps which he uses to bind my hands tightly behind my back. He then does the same to Lexi. He pushes us toward the rear of the truck, "Get out," he growls.

As the guy outside pulls us down and out of the truck container, I see the primary gunman jab a hypodermic needle into the trucker's neck. The trucker drops with a heavy thud.

Once everyone is out of the truck and the rear doors are closed, the three kidnappers rush Lexi and I across the parking lot to what looks like some sort of box delivery truck.

"Let us go, you fuckers," Lexi shouts as she struggles to break away.

One of the men slaps her, hard.

They push us both inside the back of the new truck, bind our ankles together with more tie wraps, strap duct tape across our mouths, and then pull the rear door down and closed.

I hear a metallic sound as they fasten some kind of lock on the outside. We're trapped.

I hear them all pile into the front of the truck and then we start moving, fast.

The van goes over a bump in the parking lot, jostling Lexi and I around like two ragdolls. I wonder who they are and where they're taking us. I see the same questions in Lexi's eyes.

The ride becomes fairly smooth once we are on the interstate. I can hear the hum of the truck's tires against the road.

Lexi and I struggle against our bonds, but to no avail.

As time drags on I have the opportunity to think. I ask myself what will happen next? Can I find a different way to survive? Maybe some young man with a heart of gold will save me - a random meet or fuck will turn into something more. We'll fall in love - he'll steal me away to another life. We'll move far away, get married - I'll have babies... Or, more likely, I'll just keep whoring until I'm too old and I become invisible to nearly everyone, only then to wander away and become forgotten, like I never existed.

Whatever else may befall me, I have come to realize that serendipity did find me, at least once, when I became Isa - being her is my greatest gift.

...

Lexi and I have been taken by a Chicago crime syndicate, and in turn, sold to a large, well organized human trafficking ring based in South Africa. They take young pretty light-skinned girls who are unlikely to be missed.

Our path now leads to something more sinister than simple street prostitution. We are literally going to be made into sex slaves; exotic, high priced to own, and extremely desirable, but slaves nonetheless. We have been smuggled into South Africa where we are placed into a sophisticated indoctrination facility. Lexi and I are separated, and I do not know when or if I will see her again. They separate us because it is part of breaking us down and reforging us into perfect sex slaves who will be completely devoted to, and dependent upon, our future owners. Friends are a distraction from that.

Things proceed initially as one might expect. All of my clothes are taken from me. I will not need them going forward. Slaves do not wear clothes. I need to be completely comfortable naked - as I should be. I'm taught how to move - every nuance of motion is expected to be performed in a sensual, seductive manner. My purpose is to be pleasing to my owner in every way, at all times. They will not tolerate less than perfection.

My owner has already chosen and paid for me but I will not be delivered to him for some time yet.

I do not know it, but Lexi has been purchased by a powerful woman, one who likes other women. Lexi will become her plaything - Lexi's training will take her in a different direction from mine. She will be groomed to worship other women's cunts. Cock will become intolerable for her.

The psychological and physiological aspects of my indoctrination begin now.

I spend four hours each day strapped into a medical bed with IVs in both arms, with monitors and micro-vibrators attached to various parts of my body, and staring into a high resolution holo-display.

They show me images of a young woman, nicely dressed, laughing happily and socializing with friends. The scene shifts to a man kissing the same young woman. He becomes assertive, and she isn't ready. She does not want more, yet... She pushes him away, and that is when the IVs in my arms release a powerful nausea inducing drug into my bloodstream, bringing me almost instantly to the verge of vomiting.

A little time passes, and the scene changes. Again, it shows a man kissing the same young woman, but this time, after initially pressing her hands against his shoulders in reluctance, she slowly lowers her hands, and then simply lets them fall to her sides, relinquishing her will and acquiescing to him, allowing him to pursue what he wants. Now, the IVs in my arms pump me full of a drug which induces a state of both sexual desire and euphoria. The micro-vibrators attached to my nipples and to my clit surge on. I start to lift my pelvis as the pleasure grows, but far too soon, everything shuts off, and I'm left in a state of deprivation.

Each day is a variation of the same core themes:

To submit, to give in without question, to need, to want selflessly - all of this is good.

Independence, self will, being unreceptive - all of this is bad.

Needing cock, wanting cock, worshiping cock, is good. The purpose of my pussy is to take cock.

Next, they introduce an addictive new drug which is intended to push my libido to levels bordering on nymphomania.

They change the reward system. IVs now inject a powerful female aphrodisiac when reinforcing desired responses and behaviors. Micro-vibrators now bring me to a thrashing climax each time I'm injected. The new drug is habit forming, and after a few days of receiving it, I can no longer go without it. Withdrawal would be agonizing, and "why would I want that anyway - taking the drug means I'm being a good girl."

They provide me with a vape pen and cartridges containing the drug that I am now dependent upon. Vaping has always been something that I viewed as unpleasant, but now it is something I do as a matter of course. I will live in a perpetual state of heightened sexual desire.

Non-stop Dom/sub themed images and videos of women engaged in heterosexual sex are projected upon the walls of my small room. Vaginal, oral, anal; being fucked while chained or bound with ropes, cunts dripping with cum - cock is good, cock is everything. I want it, I need it. My pussy is constantly wet. I want to be a good girl.

The conditioning is relentless. I become what they want me to be.

An ID chip is implanted high up at the back of my neck near my hairline. They insert birth control implants beneath the flesh on the inside of my left arm. No babies for now.

A masterwork tattoo of vines and pretty flowers is inked on my back from between my shoulders down to just above my ass. They modify my hairstyle by cutting some of the long locks on both sides of my face, to chin-length. When left wild these become bangs that act as a veil over my rounded features, enhancing my desirability.

Three months later, they deliver me to my new Master.

...

...

(Author's note: I expect to continue writing more of Isa's adventures. I think perhaps that she has become my favorite character from all of the stories that I have written. The plan is to give each part of her tale a name variant, for example the first part, the part which you have just read, is "A Cheap Purse and Heels, Inception." The next part may be something like "A Cheap Purse and Heels, Submission," and so forth. The "Story Name, CH.02, parts 6-11" convention (which I, like many other authors have used) can be, in my opinion, a handicap to readership, because many who have not read earlier parts will just avoid anything that is not "chapter one" or a standalone story. I am guilty of this myself when perusing for something to read on the site. If you like this story, maybe consider following me so that you do not miss subsequent parts of Isa's tale. Nice votes, favorites, and constructive comments are also appreciated. An FYI for those who like the transgender theme, my other story series "Ragdoll" is very much a transgender tale even though it was published in the BDSM category.)