The Con
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The Con
What am I supposed to tell you about myself? I'm a bastard? Is that
what you want to hear? Pick a word, I'll cop to it. I don't care what
people think of me. I do my own thing, and the only person I have to
worry about is me.
Which is why it is total bullshit that I had to put on this tie and
stand here in front of this decrepit old judge and let him tell me
what I'm supposed to do.
"Son, you have real issues with people, don't you? I see from your
record that you've been twice convicted for assault, spent six months
in jail for selling phony calling cards, and now what brings you here
today?"
The stupid smirk on his face. He knows why I'm hear. I'm sure it's
on the same goddamn page as all the other bullshit. But fine, if the
show is me saying what I done, then I'll give it to him.
"They say that I assaulted a woman, which is bull.... Which is bull."
Caught myself there, no need for more trouble.
"Well why don't you tell me your story, Michael?"
Oooh. Calling me Michael'. Like I'm in trouble when I was a kid.
Fact is, I've used a lot of different names the last few years. And
the few things they caught me for don't compare much to the tons I
got away with. But this one was just stupid. I'm still kicking myself
for it.
"I was in line for a hotdog on the street, and this bi... this lady
working the stand was just holding some attitude on me. I told her I
wanted a dog, she gave me attitude and that was it."
I knew it wasn't going to fly, but fuck him. Let him read it.
"It says here, that you made some comment to her about seafood,
which I do not understand. But then you ended up knocking over her
cart and causing her to cry."
I just shook my head and laughed. Bitch had it coming.
"Your honor, if I may..." It was the prosecutor. Some 22 year old
piece of shit in a $99 suit. He can tell the judge whatever he wants.
I don't care.
I can see them leaning in and talking. I don't really care much what
is going on. But now the judge is looking back up at me with a scowl
on his face.
"Yes, well," he says. "I now understand this seafood comment was a
very rude one. Uncalled for."
I could see the guy was red in the face. Good. And yeah, when I
finally got to the front of the line, I looked her up and down and
said that how come if she serves hot dogs, it smells so damn much
like tuna around here. Not my problem if she can't take a fucking
joke.
"Well then, Mr. Morris, it also appears that you have no permanent
residence at the moment, and that the IRS has been tracking you down
for unpaid taxes. Would you say your life is very transient right
now?"
"I'd never use that word, your honor," I says. "Cause I don't know
what it means. But if you want me to say my life is hard... well,
whose isn't?"
Fuck him. Just tell me what I got to do, and let me out of here.
"Yes well," he says. "We have a new program in the city. It's called
a community mentor program. With cases like yourself, we don't see
the real need to incarcerate you again. Instead, we believe with the
proper guidance, you can turn a corner."
I have no idea what this senior citizen is saying, but it sounds a
lot like I'm not going to jail, so I smile a big fucking smile.
The judge then calls to the back of the room, and I see a lady
walking forward. First thing I see is no tits. Too bad for her. But
she seems alright for her type. A bit mousy. Probably about 25. Nice
clothes. Probably had daddy's money. But looks wise, I wouldn't fuck
her sober. Still, drunk she'd be ok.
"... with Mr Morris. Do you agree, Ms. Jurgenson?"
This Jurgenson chick nodded yes, but I have no idea about what. The
next thing I know, she's walking back into the judge's office or
whatever, and this sherif's department prick is pushing me there too.
I followed them in there, and since they were sitting, I decided to
stand.
"Sit down, Mr. Morris," says the judge.
"I'm good."
"It wasn't a request." With that "my keeper" pushes me down into a
leather chair. Nice chair. The judge then shuffles him out of the
room.
"Now, Mr. Morris," says the judge. "Ms. Jurgenson here has done a
great deal of community outreach with this court in the last few
years, and she is offering to help you."
I don't need no help, especially from a broad. But I know when to
keep my mouth shut.
"And if you accept her help, and do as she asks for the next month,
we can consider dropping your charges. Or, I can sentence you right
now if you like."
I've seen broads like this. This is her good deed for the day or
whatever. Makes her feel less guilty about the great hand life dealt
her. I figure, what, this means I gotta get some straight job? Meet
her for tea or whatever once a week? Whatever. I can fake my way
through a month.
"Sounds great," I say, trying not to grit my teeth. "I really
appreciate it Ms Juggshasnone."
Damn. Couldn't help it. Wise ass stuff always gets me in trouble.
Hope I said it fast enough she didn't catch it.
The fact that she reached out her hand for mine, with a smile on her
face, means I'm right.
"I really think I can help you, Mr. Morris," she says. "I think you
just make bad choices. You can choose to be a good person, choose to
do good things, like I do. I will be happy to show you how."
She'd make a perfect nun. Looks like one, talks like one. Bet her
pussy's as dry as the grand canyon.
"Sounds great, when do we start?" I say, shaking her hand.
All of a sudden, the judge stands up, and he's got like this huge
pole in his hand, with some shiny jewel on the top. What is he? A
fucking nut job?
"HOW ABOUT WE START RIGHT ... NOW!"
I hear him scream it, but I can't move. My whole body feels like its
on fire or something. I can see she's going through the same thing,
and I can't let go of her hand. I start squeezing it harder and
harder, and it hurts more and more. Everything is like swirls of
colors. Blacks, Reds, Blues.. I don't know what. I just know I'm
going to fuckin kill this guy if I don't black out.
Then, quick as it started, it's over. I'm fuckin lucky I didn't have
a heart attack. I open my eyes and look up to see how the broad is
doing, but all I see is the ceiling. I'm still seeing stars, but
where the hell is she?
Something is fucking wrong.
"Down here," I hear, in a weird voice. I look down and I see. .. me?
I see myself? I shake my head no' and I feel something against my
neck? Long hair? What the?
"What the fuck is going on?" I say these words, and it sounds
like... like her? What the hell? I don't know who the fuck to kill,
but I'm going to kill someone.
"SIT DOWN" the old guy screams at me, and I do what he says. Sitting
next to me is me, and I look down and see the business suit, the
skirt, the whole deal. I'm in this chick's body.
"That's better," he says. "Neither of you can move right now, so I
can explain. So don't bother trying."
I hear him talking, and I can't move, but all I keep doing is
staring at my old body. Fuck, are those gray hairs? But then I start
trying to eye her body. I can't really move my head but I can still
feel things. First off, I smell pretty good like this.
"As for you, Ms. Jurgenson," says the old guy. "I am so sick of
people like you who think all the bad things in Mr. Morris' life were
his choice. Fact is, he's had bad breaks. That does not mean he isn't
an ass, however. But you want to do some good? You want to show how
you could help him? You have one month. Live his life. Get it
together if you can. If you do, I'll be grateful, as will he. I'm
sick of putting people like him in jail."
Now he's looking right at me. Or her. Whatever. He's looking at me,
whatever body I'm in. He has this crazy look in his eyes. I don't
like it.
"As for you," he says. "Be lucky I did not do worse to you. You have
a month as well. Live this woman's life. You'll have nothing to
complain about. You have a place to live, and a job. Show you can be
a useful member of society... stay out of trouble. While I'm sick of
her kind and her pomposity, she is a useful member of society, does
not deserve to have her life ruined. You do this for 30 days, you get
your old body back, hopefully with a better situation. But if you
can't do that, then believe me, there will be hell to pay. You may
both now move."
The first thing I hear, is crying. This bitch is crying in my body.
God that sounds pathetic.
"Oh shut up," I squeak. God I'm not getting used to that. "Don't
make me out to be no sissy. That's not helping anything!"
"Judge Harkness," she says. "I don't know how you did this, or
why... but I accept your challenge. I am not all talk. I will make a
difference in this man's life. I promise you that."
The judge guy nods, and throws her a set of keys.
"It's not much. A one bedroom flat. We use it for new courthouse
employees when they relocate. It'll give you some place to stay while
you sort things out. Now get out of here... Mr. Morris."
She gets up and nods to him, and then looks at me. Man, I look like
a thug.
"I will help you, Mr. Morris," she says. "But please, take this time
to reflect on how you can be a better person."
With that, she's gone. At least I think she is. I hear the door
closing, but all I'm doing is rubbing my hands up and down this
broad's body. Man, she's flat as a board, but even little tits feel
kind of cool. I start to roll up her skirt when the judge tosses a
purse in my lap.
"Ms. Jurgenson is a valued member of the community!" he yells. "Act
like it! She's due back at work in 15 minutes. You best be going."
"Go where?" I say. Like I know where this broad works.
"She works at Allied Insurance on Forrest Ave. She answers phones.
You'll need no special training. A man of your cunning can fake that
just fine, can't you?"
He comes around the desk, and leans in my face. His voice is like a
whisper.
"Do not fuck with me, young LADY," he smiles. "If I had another body
to put you in, I would. But you better appreciate what is being done
on your behalf and act accordingly."
"Oh, I do... I do," what a lie. Whatever that jewel thing can do,
it's no bullshit meter. That's a good thing. "I'll be a good girl." I
try not to smile.
"Get out then, and I will see you in 30 days."
I head for the door, not sure where I will go next. Mexico might be
nice.
CHAPTER TWO FITTING IN
Mexico is a fucking stupid idea. First off, I'm a chick. And
second... well, there doesn't need to be a second.
So I head over to the office where she works. Everyone is so fuckin
nice to me, I want to vomit. But what a cake job. I answer the phone,
smile at the idiots coming in to get butt-fucked by the insurance
guys on a new car loan, and that's it.
No one even notices I spend the whole day with one hand under the
desk, poking around my new pussy. I was right, this bitch is dry.
Takes me about a half hour until I'm all nice and wet.
I head into the bathroom, and sit down... and try to make this body
cum. It takes way too fuckin' long, that's the first thing I notice.
I coulda snapped off twice by now. But finally, it hits. Or at least
it seems too. I kinda shake, and feel a little jolt, and then nothing.
Are you fucking kidding me?
I pull everything back together and get back to my station. She's
got a pretty boring job, so I'm glad when it's done. I got her
address off her driver's license, and I head there right away. I
mean, I should go get a beer, but I got to get out of these clothes.
Her place is alright, but actually kind of on the shitty side. I was
way wrong about daddy's money, I guess. I find one of those little
girly desks in her bedroom, with little slots for her bills and shit.
God, what an anal twat this one is.
Good thing is, I find a check book. Seems like just under $10k in
it. Nice. Maybe a few withdrawals, hide it somewhere, and that's the
"new start" I get when I get my body back. That's the fucking thing,
that's all I really need is some cash. Whatever else she's doing in
my body, unless I'm getting it back with a pile of cash, it ain't
going to do shit.
I take a show, and try to finger fuck myself again. This time is a
bit quicker, and since I have access to my little tits... it's a bit
nicer. I looked around. She's got no toys or nothing, so this is it.
No question, I miss my cock.
So I lay down in bed, naked, and it hits me. I mean, sex is sex,
right? That fingering stuff is ok, but I'd like to see what this body
does getting fucked. Don't make me gay, I'm a chick. Plus, she needs
to lighten up for sure. The idea of getting her fucked by some loser,
and then him calling her up when she's back here gets my little ass
out of bed and back looking to get dressed.
All her underwear is granny shit, so I put that on. No need for a
bra for the titless wonder. I find a pink sleeveless t-shirt, white
shorts, and a pair of sandals. Not wearing those fucking heels again.
When I get down to Crazy Murphy's, I can't help but laugh. I know
like half of the fucking guys in this place, but they got no idea who
I am. I figure they'd all be looking at me, but not at all. I mean,
no body looks at this girl. Maybe this will be harder than I thought?
It's like 15 seconds later, and the bartender shoots me a beer, and
points to a guy at the end of the bar. Oh, fuck, I know him. Name's
Slow Joe, or something. I ran a few scams with his older brother.
Must be like 20 or something. They call him that cause he got pinched
twice on a few break-ins when he couldn't outrun the cops. Maybe if
he laid off the bacon cheeseburgers, he'd ditch the name.
He's fucking perfect.
It only take about two minutes of b.s. small talk before he's got
his hand on my thigh. Got to admit, feels ok. I think he does ok,
pussy-wise, so no way is this body anything special for him. In fact,
if this place weren't dead, I wouldn't even have gotten the beer.
Fifteen minutes later we're walking to his place, where I'm about to
get more than a beer. He tries a lot of kissing, but that seems too
weird to me. I do my best to keep him off my face, and instead he's
biting at my nipples. That feels good, and now I'm getting wet.
He flops me down on his bed, and I hear his buckle, and then he's on
top of me. Next thing I know, I got a cock in my pussy. Not bad.
Better than my finger. He starts pumping into me, and it's ok. I
close my eyes, cause staring into his fat face is not going to get it
down. After about 30 seconds, he cums. I can tell because he sounds
like a heard of elephants being run over by a tank.
He rolls his sweaty body off me, and I'm nowhere near done. I start
to complain, when he pulls this black smooth thing out of his night
stand table. A dildo! Fuck yeah!
After about two minutes of that, I would have admitted that I killed
Kennedy. He fucked me hard with it, and I think I came like four or
five times. Shit yeah, that was exactly what I needed.
I wanted to make this good, so I rolled over and put my head on his
chest, and just lay there. Never much of a fucking snuggler, I
figured.. what the hell, right?
I was trying to figure out why the hell he'd have a dildo. But then
I figured... he fucks for like 30 seconds. He better have some way to
get girls off.
I write down her phone number for him. He's just laying there with a
post-fuck grin on his face, so he doesn't even notice me pulling out
her driver's license to see what the hell her phone number is.
"Call me in about a month, stud," I say. "I need lots more of you!"
He just lays there smiling, so I throw the clothes back on and head
back to her place.
CHAPTER THREE WEEK TWO
The next few days fucking suck. Her job is boring, the guys are
assholes and the girls want to talk about chick stuff.
The only fun I had was going into the sleaziest sex store in town
and buying like five dildos. I paid with a credit card. Hope she
likes that.
I went out the next night, but it was a Friday, and I was the
ugliest chick in the bar. Took about and hour before anyone even
bought me a drink, and this little loser didn't seem like he was
going to do anything.
Glad to say I was wrong, he took me back to his car and ate out my
pussy. That was better than the first time. I even screamed when I
came. It rocked. Only bad part was that when I opened his eyes, his
cock was right near my face. I was tempted to bite the thing off, but
instead I just took it in my hands and pretended like I was jacking
myself off. In about 10 seconds he was shooting his wad all over his
nice leather seats.
Schmuck.
Then it hits me. And I couldn't believe I wasted two days before
thinking it.
"That's $200, buddy," I says. I see his eyes get all buggy.
"What .. what are you talking about?" he says. I can see he's all
panicked. Love that.
"It's $200 for the sex," I says. "Or I call your wife and tell her
about us."
The guy gets all shaky and defensive, and pulls out a wad of cash. I
count it later, it's $325.
"Please, just take it and go," he stammers.
No problem with that.
I head back into the bar, and do the same thing twice more that
night. For the weekend, I end up with almost two grand. A few guys
fucked me, a few hand jobs. No big deal. I came once, but left most
of the fun stuff for my new toys.
And since no visit from the judge guy, I figure his thing about
"doing right by her" was bullshit. Perfect.
The next week I spend conning the assholes at her job. I do a sob
story to one guy, gets me $250. I let two junior partners fuck me,
and get $500 from each of them, with the whole threatening to tell
their wives thing. They pretend to threaten me, but these guys are
fucking amateurs.
Even with that, though, these days are dragging on. So finally, I
figure, fuck her.
It wasn't so hard to do. I head down to Uncle Tim's strip club. A
few chats with one of the bigger titted girls and I've got the name
and number of her doctor.
The guy's office is ok. Don't know what I expected. Looks like a
pretty typical doctor's office, I guess.
The door opens and there he is. Short, sweaty and with a lousy comb-
over. Nice look for a doctor.
"Ms. Jurgenson, please come in," he says. "How can I help you?"
"How do you think?" I says. I'm so used the voice now, I don't even
flinch. "I want to buy a washing machine."
The guy just stares at me. I'm figuring dead fucking last in his
class.
"Tits, of course," I say. "Isn't it obvious I need me some tits?"
He goes off on this whole thing about how different women look good
with different sizes, and I shouldn't make a rash decision, blah blah
blah.
"I have to ask," he says. It's like he's trying to be sweet. "Why do
you want to be bigger?"
I was trying to figure out how to answer this question, in case it
got asked. I mean, getting bigger tits isn't illegal, right? So I
figure, what's the harm with answering?
"I want to work in a strip club, so I need some big ones."
All of a sudden, his look changes. He gets all cold looking. I could
tell he don't like working with strippers, but I bet the money's too
good to pass up.
"Fine, fine," he says. "What size?"
"How big can I go?" I say.
He reaches over and unbuttons my shirt, and starts tugging at he
skin around my tits.
"Maybe a C cup, tops," he says.
"C Cup?" I say? "No way, at least DD. I need to be huge."
He starts talking in this voice like he's reading a script. "Going
that large will look disproportionate on your body, and will lead to
sagging later due to the increase volume. Do you understand these
risks and accept them?"
He slides me a piece of paper, and I sign it, and hand him my credit
card.
He leaves me in the room for a minute, and I don't even bother to
button up. When he comes back, he says there was a $2,000 limit on
the card, and the procedure is $8,000. I know she's got like $5,000
in the bank, so this will be a bit of an issue.
"Uh, I can write you a check, for five more, but that's all I got."
He rolls his eyes, and then rolls down his pants. He pulls out his
cock and holds it towards me. "You want a $1,000 discount?"
I stare at his cock for a minute. I've jerked off a few of them, and
let a few fuck me, but I haven't sucked one yet. Still, what else can
you do for $1,000? Plus, it's one time.
I lean over and take it in my mouth. It tastes like sweat to me. I
try to imagine it's something else... but what the fuck else could it
be? I've eaten hot dogs before, but I never sucked them in and out of
my mouth. I suck him for a few minutes, and he's not getting that
hard. I know it's fucking because he has models in here, and I look
like shit.
So I start playing with his balls. Talk about sweaty. It's fucking
gross. But I know I like it, and I can tell he does too. His cock
springs to life and ends up spraying cum down my throat a few seconds
later. Somehow I thought it would be more, but it was like a few
drips tops.
I pull back from him and get one of those little paper cups from the
sink and rinse my mouth out with water.
"I'll take that check now," he says while zipping up. "And be here
by 6 am tomorrow."
CHAPTER FOUR WEEK THREE
I have to spend two days at home on my back, but I called in sick
and no one said shit. I had something on almost everyone in the place
now, so fuck them.
These things are huge, and its hard figuring out how to walk around
with them. Plus, I can tell that none of her shit is going to fit
over them, and I already cleaned out her account.
Luckily I had the cash I glommed off the office staff, and the few
guys at the bar.
Speaking of cash, what really pisses me off is seeing on the news
that someone got away with $1.5 million dollars from a bank in the
city. They didn't have any suspects, but they showed the crime scene.
Just watching the cops on the news, you knew it was amateurs. I knew
10 guys it could have been, and if I wasn't sitting here on my back
with these tits, I could have been part of it.
That pissed me off even move.
My fourth day I took the biggest t-shirt she had and stretched it
over my new tits. They were still sore, but now I got looks just
walking around. I figure I don't need to fucking outfit for life,
just a week more or so.
So I went to Walmart and bought two bras, and a few tank tops. One
of them says "sexy" on it. Fucking beautiful.
It took my second-ever blow job to get me a job at Uncle Tim's but
what the hell.
As I'm on my knees on the owner's floor wiping cum from the corners
of my mouth, the guy tells me I need a name. He says I'll be Jenny
Juggs, and sounds ok to me. What do I care?
I got no idea how to dance, but I think I do ok. I have them play
that Enter Sandman song, cause I think it's cool, and then I just
shake my tits at them and they throw money.
The lights are kinda bright in my face, so I can't really see the
crowd, but I keep going over to the edge of the stage. If I see a
mark with a smile on his face, I smile back and the money pours in.
The only thing I didn't like was that since I'm the "new girl" this
ass says I got to work the room when I'm done. I'd rather just be on
the stage collecting cash, but I guess the other girls got to work
too.
After my first set, this big guy calls me to his table. He's got to
be at least 6-7, had to be a fucking basketball player at some point.
He tells me he likes big fake tits, and he is turned on by seeing my
surgery scars. I fucking almost die laughing. What a sicko.
But then he offers me a cool grand to let him tit fuck me. Like I
even had to think about it.
Five minutes later we're out behind the club, between two dumpsters,
and I'm kneeling on his jacket while he pushes his cock in between my
tits. It feels ok, but since they're still pretty sore, I don't get
off or nothing. The only thing that pisses me off is that I wasn't
ready for it when he blew his load. It got all over my face, and up
in my hair. That sucked.
I decided to show up for work the next day. It was Friday of the
third week, and it was fucking hilarious the looks I got. One of the
junior partners who I let fuck me? No question in my mind he came
just looking at me.
I went into the owner of the company, told him everyone thinks he's
an ass and is probably gay, and quit.
Let's see her recover from this one!
I made about four grand that weekend at the club, between dances and
blowjobs. Yeah, blowjobs. I finally figured, what the fuck? The
money's too good to pass up. The owner fucking loved me, cause I'd do
anything for money.
One night he pulls me back into his office and tells me he's got a
special party for me to go to. Pays a grand. When I show up, it's
five guys sitting in a hotel room.
Next thing I know, I'm no my knees, they're all fucking standing
around me and jacking themselves off on me. It lasts like 20 minutes.
I swear to God chicks got it made.
With only a few days to go until it's over, I go into total overdrive.
I hang around near her old office, and offer them blow jobs and
fucks for like $25 bucks in the parking lot. I want to make sure she
can't go back.
My biggest problem is what to do with all the money. I ain't putting
it in the bank, I've earned it. So I end up burying it in the park,
near a tree I marked with a kitchen knife. It'll only be a few days,
so I know I'll find it.
The problem is, as I'm starting to leave, I feel a flashlight in my
face.
"Can I help you... miss?" this fucking cop shines the light in my
face, and the moves it slowly down, ending on my tits. He has a big
smile on his face until he moves it further down and sees the knife.
"Put the knife down, now," he screams. I do what he says, and figure
there's now way to explain. There's no way a cop is going to buy a
sob story, and I just buried all the cash I had with me, so a bribe
is fucking out.
"Isn't there some way we can forget about this, officer," I say,
trying not to laugh. I rub my hand on his crotch, and look up into
his eyes. He smiles, and then spins me around, and cuffs me. Fuck.
CHAPTER FIVE THE RETURN
"What are you grinning at, you slut?" this big black girl yelps at
me as we sit in lockup. But I ignore her. This is fucking great. Let
her see what it's like to have a record.
I sit back, smile, and close my eyes.
"Jurgenson, you made bail," I hear, and open my eyes. Staring at me
through the cage is my old body. My grin probably goes from ear to
fucking ear.
"Thanks for everything baby," I say, as I lean into the bitch who
was yelling at me and kiss her on the lips. She looks at me like
what the fuck' but doesn't do shit as I walk out the door.
As we're walking out of the police station, I keep waiting for her
to say something. I'm actually getting kind of pissed that she isn't.
But I'm not fucking talking first, let her stew.
"Sit down," she says, and she points to a bench on the sidewalk.
Here it fucking comes.
"Here are your keys," she says. "You have a one-bedroom apartment on
Elm. 51 Elm, apartment 4H. You now work at Kinkos. I know it's not a
wonderful job, but it more than pays your rent, and you can save up
and get some nice furniture. Or maybe a car. But you only have to
walk two blocks to work, so that's not a priority."
I'm giving her the what the fuck' look while she's talking.
"Aren't you fucking going to say anything about... These?" I say,
and pull up my shirt to show her the huge tits on the chest she's
about to return to.
She just smiles, and reaches down and takes my hand.
I feel it again. The same tugging. The pins and needles. All the
colors. It doesn't hurt so much this time. When it's over, I'm
looking down on her, sitting on the bench.
She stands up, and pulls down her shirt, cupping and massaging her
huge tits.
"I have to say, these feel pretty great," she says smiling.
"I thought... I thought," I don't know what to say.
"I kept my end of the bargain," she says. It's up to you now."
For the first time in my life, I feel something that feels like
guilt. I mean, what the fuck is her deal?
"Look," I stammer, "I... quit your job. I been working... uh.. I
mean you been working at Uncle Tim's. Under da name Jenny Juggs. The
money is real good, but I had to max out your card and clean out your
account for those big titties."
She smiles, and puts her hand on my shoulder. "That's ok, you did
your best. And it seems like I can probably make some money with
these, huh? A girl has to do what a girl has to do. Good luck to you."
She starts to walk away, and I stand there, stunned. What about the
judge? Why isn't she pissed? I have no idea what is going on.
"Some people are just suckers," I say. It feels good to get my voice
back.
The apartment seems ok. One big room, with a kitchen, and bathroom.
I see a few Kinkos polo shirts on the one couch. A fucking lot
different than a g-string, I think.
What blows my mind is opening the door to the bathroom. Inside I see
a decent looking shower, and older looking toilet, and a huge fucking
pile of money. The note says "to get you started."
I sit down and start counting. There has to be at least $300,000
here! I can't fucking believe it!
I find a duffle bag in the closet and start stuffing it with money.
I'm so out of this fucking town it isn't funny.
Just then, the door is broken down. I don't even know what happens
next. There's like five, maybe six, cops. They start wrestling me
down, I try to fight back. Stupid. The beat down is quick and all I
see is black.
When I wake up it's lock-down again, but this time no tits. Just
dicks.
I start to rub the back of my neck, when the guards come and pull me
down the hallway into an office. Not just any office...
"Welcome back, Mr. Morris," says the same judge. "Seems you've been
a bit busy, eh?"
He was watching me? Oh I'm so fucked.
"Listen your honor... the thing is..." I stammer. I stutter. I got
nothing to say.
"Save it for your lawyer, Mr Morris," he says. "But the fact is, we
found a piece of a torn shirt that matches the one we found in your
apartment. Fingerprint evidence, not to mention more than a quarter
of a million dollars in your apartment. Plus two eye-witnesses
identified your face. For a career criminal, you'd think you'd at
least have worn a mask."
I stare at him, stunned. "Then this doesn't... I mean, what about
your pole and the jewel and all that shit?"
"Language! Mr Morris," he was red in the face now. "I don't know
what you are prattling on about. But the reason I called you into
chambers was to tell you that this is the last time I try to take
pity on someone. I gave you a month to clean up your life, to get a
job, a place to live... and you used the whole thing as pretext to
rob a bank? You are going away for a long time."
A bank? The bank robbery? What the fuck?
"Wait, I didn't," I tried to speak, but he waved me away. They
returned me to lockup.
"That cunt," I says to no one in particular. That fucking cunt.
EPILOGUE
The trial was a disaster. If you can call it a trial. Twenty five
years, maximum security. I guess I was carrying a loaded gun too,
which added another twenty five.
I'd done time before, but not with this kind. It was brutal. I was
the new fish, and basically had three choices I could be killed, I
could be taken by the black gang, or the Hispanic one. Actually, I
didn't even get to choose. Turns out the black gang "won me" in a
card game.
The worst part was, they would force me to do stuff, sexually. And
after a few weeks of practice in that cunt's body, I couldn't unlearn
the fact that I was good at it. I got real popular, and couldn't walk
around the yard straight, from as much as my ass hurt from being
fucked.
The third week, I had a visitor. I got no family, no nothing, and
the lawyer wouldn't take my calls no more, so I was curious. When
they took me down to the visitor's area, it was her.
Her hair was platinum blonde now, her clothes expensive, and she had
at least ten grand in pearls around her neck.
I sat down, knowing that if I took a swing at her it wouldn't do any
good.
"Thought I'd check in before leaving down, hun" she says with a
laugh. "An uncle of mine died and left me a lot of money. Almost
$700,000. I'm moving to Vegas. A girl like me can make a lot of money
there, and who knows? Maybe I can land me some rich guy to take me
away from this hard life." She rubbed her knuckles in her eyes, as if
to pretend she was crying.
"Why the fuck did you do this to me," I whispered. "That whole jewel
thing? That was you, not the judge? Why'd you need me?"
She explained that the judge had no memory of her at all, and that
she used me, because I was a misogynic asshole, as well as a
connected thief. I get the "asshole" part, and I assume the other
word is bad too.
"I knew you'd do something like this with my body," she said. "And
that's what I wanted. I can get anything I want with this body now,
thanks to you. You see, that jewel was some ancient body swap
talisman or something. I conned it off some archeologist I worked for
two summers ago. Turns out it can switch any two people for a period
of 30 days, with only them knowing about it. So I was as surprised as
you when it made him look like King Tut or whatever."
"So I knew I could pull the robbery in your body with some of the
lowlifes you hang out with, keep enough for you to get caught with,
and hide away the rest. And I figured you'd take care of my body for
me. Nice job, by the way."
She got up to leave. I just sat there, stunned. She pulled a
necklace from her deep cleavage, and it had the jewel on it. She
pulled it over her head and pushed it across the table to me.
"Why don't you keep it hun," she laughed, "to remember me by?"
I didn't need no fucking jewel to remember here. Twenty minutes
later as I was being bent over my cot and fucked by one of the
brothers, all I could hear in my mind was her laughter as she walked
away from me.
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