Hell's Belles

I hope y'all love Trans Eggs becoming Scary Demoness Princess because GOLLY do I love that. As for content, it's the usual stuff. Lust control, transformation, some religious prejudice/internalized transphobia stuff. There's a good end tho it's totes worth it.

Enjoy!

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Ross had many things he wanted to do on a Saturday morning, and none of them involved knocking on the doors of strangers. It was the dead of summer, and he was already sweating through his pressed dress shirt and pants. Beads trailed down from his short-cropped hair, occasionally stinging his eyes. He'd kill for some ice water, let alone an afternoon off. But there he was, a bundle of magazines clutched in his hand, helping to spread the word about his Lord and Saviour.

"I hate Witnessing. I hate it so much," Ross said, squeezing the roll of literature tight in his fist. He half wanted to crush them.

"Quit being so dramatic," Michael said, jabbing an elbow sharply into Ross' ribs. Mike was a lot of things Ross was not. He was taller, confident in his own abilities, and had that toothpaste box smile. With shoulder-length wavy hair, he was pushing the Church's tolerance for aberrant appearance. But he got away with it. Michael always did. "We only have to do this til 2. Then Pastor Dan's pool party! Barbeque, cold drinks... Jenny'll be there."

Ross nodded, faking a smile. He liked Jenny. A lot. But the shit he'd have to go through for a chance at awkwardly conversing with his crush while munching on a hot dog wrapped in Wonderbread was almost not worth it. Plus swimming meant putting his body on display. And though objectively he knew that he didn't look terrible, the thought of Jenny seeing him without his shirt made him cringe. So even the reward for this slog was tainted. But Witnessing was what was expected of him, and Ross always did what was expected of him.

Another suburban block. Hedgerows, well-manicured lawns, the occasional bushel of flowers. Michael knocked on a beige door leading into a beige house, Ross stepped up to take his turn making the pitch.

The door creaked open on a middle-aged man, maybe mid-forties, wearing just a pair of shorts. His hair was thinning, and he looked like he'd just gotten up. Ross envied him.

"Good morning!" Ross said, "I've come on behalf of the Church of the Penitent Witness to bring you a message of hope. Have you a few moments to hear about our Lord, Jesus Christ?"

The man scowled. "Pennies, huh? I've heard of you. You're the ones who hate demons, right?"

The canned response poured out. "Of course not! The Church believes there is hope for all of God's creatures. Some infernals have even joined our congregation, blessing our faith with unparalleled devotion to the true God above, not his Fallen Angel."

The man was unmoved. "I heard one of your pastor's talk about how the Unshackling was a mistake. How letting demons come to Earth was the worst thing to happen to humanity."

Michael cut in, his tone and demeanour just as styrofoam as Ross'. "Our church is open to many different opinions. But rest assured, we aren't all the liberal media says we are."

The man opened his door all the way. Standing to the side, peeking around the corner, was a shorter man with blue skin and horns. A spaded tail flicked furtively around his leg.

"I think you'd best be on your way," he said, then slammed the door in their faces.

Michael waited until they were out of earshot before muttering his reply. "Fine, go be a sodomite with that demon, you fucking..." He trailed off. Ross didn't join in with the invectives, but he didn't speak up either. He knew better. "I can't believe they let people like that into a good neighbourhood like this. Makes you wonder about the whole country, y'know?"

Ross made a noncommittal noise. For all the lip service to acceptance, his whole life he'd been told about how 'certain people' were unworthy, or degenerate, or were downright evil. The Unshackling had brought up a lot more of that sentiment. Those folk consort with demons are vile, we were right all along. But Ross couldn't shake the knowledge that the people they'd just got chewed out by were just...living their lives, not hurting anyone. Ross had brought his book to them, not the other way around. How would he have reacted to a door knocker from a group that clearly hated people like him?

They tried a few more houses. Most didn't answer, either out already or ignoring them. The few that answered were about as receptive as the other man had been. At best they got indifference, and at worst...

"Get off my property," an elderly woman in gardening gloves and a wide-brimmed sunhat told them, her expression seething, "I don't deal with the Godless!"

"But ma'am-" Ross had tried to say, but got a clump of black earth tossed at his shirt for his troubles.

"'Love Thy Human Neighbour!' Ha! Pennies don't deserve to kiss my foot. You tell your no good pastor that he's not welcome in this neighbourhood! Good people live here, not bigoted hustlers!"

They left, steps quickened. Once they were out of tossing range, they dropped down to a disheartened shuffle. The sun was overhead, and Ross felt the heat suck the very life out of him.

"C'mon," he said. "Let's blow off for a few hours. We're not Saving anyone around here."

Michael scoffed, brushing the dirt from his shirt. "We can't let the unbelievers beat us, Ross. These people need our help, whether they know it or not. C'mon. One more street."

They stopped for water at a convenience store. Ross lingered at the beverage section, staring at his own reflection in the refrigerator's glass door. He'd never liked it. Impartially, he knew that other people thought he looked fine. His brown eyes had been called chocolatey by one kind observer, and he'd gotten 'handsome' compliments since he was little. But those never felt good to hear. It didn't sound right. It was confidence issues, the Pastor had told him. There was no sin of pride to admit to being blessed by God.

But that wasn't it. It wasn't that he disbelieved that he had lucked out and gotten a decent-looking face and a not-half-bad looking body. It's that his reflection was...wrong. Incomplete, distorted. He didn't have the vocabulary to describe it...but the doubt remained. He shook himself from his reverie, picked up two bottles of water, and brought them to the counter.

After drinking them down, they felt a little better about going forward. Dehydration was a killer, after all. They headed down Milton St. A long row of houses stretched to their left, while an undeveloped lot thick with weeds and signs for future projects encompassed the right. They tried the first few homes on the block, nothing.

Ross almost didn't see the white picket fence on his right. Strange. There was a single house on the undeveloped side. It was a bit of an eyesore. Shuttered, uneven windows, gaudy orange roof tiles, with flaking midnight blue paint on the walls. A garage door hung agape, casting a shadow down on a red and white car from the 50s. The car, unlike the unkempt yard and peeling house, looked brand new.

"What about this house?" Ross asked. Something about it pulled at him. It was so unlike all the other homes.

"You're kidding, right? That place looks fucking cursed." Michael's voice sounded strained. Ross raised an eyebrow.

"Are you scared?"

Michael flushed. He squared his shoulders and spat out a laugh. "No, of course not. But it looks abandoned. And there are plenty of others on that side. Why waste our time?"

Ross pointed to the light shining through one of the shutters. "Looks like there's power, if nothing else. C'mon." Not waiting for his partner, Ross opened the waist high gate and stepped through the thick greenery to the door.

Raising a hand to knock, the door opened before he could rap his knuckles on the wood.

"Good afternoon!" a beautiful blonde woman said in a warm Southern drawl. A moment's glance revealed that her chest was straining the fabric of a floral sundress. Wide hips only barely constrained by the skirt made him lock up. Michael was likewise dumbstruck, but broke through the mental vapour lock to speak.

"Good...good afternoon," he said before clearing his throat. We've come on behalf of the-"

"Church of the Penitent Witness, yes I've heard of you! But you fellas look terribly hot. It's a doozy out there, innit? Come on inside, we can talk over some lemonade." She stepped to the side, holding out her arm. Once out of the doorway, Ross could feel the blessed tingle of refrigerated air against his skin.

"We'd love to!" he said, and followed her inside. Michael joined them momentarily, dragging his heels only up until he felt the chilled air.

The home was much more welcoming on the inside. Incandescent lights hung on ivory sconces, giving the room a dim, cozy illumination. The walls were shades of pink, matching the upholstery of the furniture perfectly. She led them into an enormous living room centred on an unused brick fireplace.

"Take a seat there, I'll fetch the beverages. I'm Lily, by the by. What's your names?"

They introduced themselves. Ross sat with Michael on a comfortable pink couch. Lily placed two glasses on embroidered coasters on the table in front of them and poured two glasses of lemonade. After returning the pitcher to her fridge, she sat down on a loveseat opposite them.

"So tell me," she said, resting her chin on her palm, "What does your Church have to teach me?"

Ross took a long pull front the glass. It was perfect. Sweet but not too sweet, and oh so cold. "Well, we've been going around the neighbourhood, talking to people about Jesus Christ, God, and the plan He has for all of us. Ever since the Unshackling, mainstream churches have struggled to keep up for the changing realities of life in this new world. Hellmouths opening, the Descent of the Seraphs, it's all a lot to handle for theologies who have, for a long time, been without direct contact with the Almighty."

"So your church has had contact with God, then?" she asked, without a hint of guile or sarcasm. Ross tried desperately to not look at her breasts, but in the chilly air, her nipples were poking out the fabric. She wasn't wearing a bra underneath...

"We don't claim any special knowledge. We commune with Him and His will is known to us through the world and its many perils. We have some literature if you'd like to learn more." Michael gently nudged his friend.

Ross snapped back to reality and handed over one pamphlet to Lily. Leaning over, she touched his thumb with her finger for the briefest fraction of a second.

**The room was dark. Blackest night. Looming high above him was a violet-skinned giantess, her eyes burning with black flames. Savage horns speared outward from her forehead, dangling above which a twisted crown of golden thorns seethed and shimmered like a mirage. She was almost naked, a pair of broken manacles trailed limp chains from her wrists. She smiled with a thousand teeth and**

"Thank you very much," Lily said, slipping a flyer from his trembling fingers.

He blinked. What the fuck had he just seen? Did he just snap?

"Dude. You okay?" Michael asked sotto voce. Ross wanted to say 'no, of course I'm not fucking okay, I just had a waking nightmare', but they were in the presence of company.

"Y-yeah, sure. Just...the heat took a bit out of me," he said. He almost reached for the lemonade, but halted mid-motion. What if she'd poisoned him? Michael seemed unaffected though. What the fuck was going on?

Michael took over the sales pitch. Ross was grateful. He tried to look like he was listening, but his mind reeled through all the possibilities of what could be happening. Finally, like a slot machine landing on jackpot, his addled brain put everything together.

Lily wasn't human at all.

"I think we should be going," Ross said, "Thank you for your time."

"But we've only just begun talking, sweetheart. You were telling me about the wonderful plan God has for me?"

Ross tugged up Michael from the seat. "We have a lot of homes to get to. We really should be getting on that old dusty trail. Right Mike?"

"I dunno man," he replied, slightly dreamlike, "Maybe we should stay for a while. It's so cool in here...and Lily seems nice." He tilted his head to look at the buxom blonde, who waved playfully at him.

Ross realized with a sinking sensation that Michael wasn't acting like himself. He'd heard that infernals could trick humans in some ways. That had to be it. He steeled himself with his faith and pointed an accusatory finger.

"Alright lady, what in the hell is going on. Are you even human?"

A pause. Then, a peel of infectious laughter. She slow clapped for him, making his hackles rise even more. "Well done, Mr. Ross. It's been too long since someone had the strength to see past my glamours. Though I see your friend Michael isn't. Pure human rube, this one. Aren't you, Michael dear?"

"Yes ma'am," he answered without hesitation. Lily let out another laugh, this once laced with contempt.

"The Faithful are so easily led astray."

"What are you?!" Ross pulled out the cross from around his neck and clutched it tight. His faith would protect him, even in this terrible moment.

The image of the tyrant giantess mingled with the hospitable blonde, flowing into one until the two had merged. She was still blonde, but her skin had an alluring purple hue. Her eyes were entirely black, without iris or visible pupil. Four inch horns poked out from her head, looking more endearing than threatening. But the woman carried so much confidence with her that Ross couldn't help but be unnerved.

"I'm afraid I wasn't entirely honest with you, honey. My name is Lilith, but you can still call me Lily. I think it sounds cute.

The name echoed in his head like a gunshot. "Lilith? THE Lilith?"

She rolled her eyes. "Oh hush, I'm not THAT old. I'm named after my mother, who's named after her mother, you know how it is. But I do take after her in certain ways. I don't put up with the foolishness for men, first and foremost. No matter who they are. Speaking of which, Michael? Be a dear and whip out your cock for me. I have a powerful thirst that lemonade just won't quite quench."

He obeyed. Ross' attention snapped between her lusting eyes and his friend who, nonchalantly, pulled out his dick in front of him and started stroking.

"Mike! What the fuck?" he said. Shaking the man did nothing. He was entirely enraptured by Lily's — Lilith's — body.

"He can barely hear you, dear. My words are like, what's the phrase, cheat codes? Yes, that's it. I've unlocked his brain, and he's giving me everything I want." She strolled over, kneeling before him. Mike, still locked in place, stroked himself off directly toward her waiting mouth. With a touch to his thigh, he stiffened, and hot cum surged out of him. Thick white globs splashed against her tongue, and she gulped greedily. Ross was paralysed. What the hell should he do?

"Don't think about running," Lilith said, licking up the remains of Michael's orgasm from her beestung lips, "The door may look shabby, but it's enchanted with strength enough to keep out the Tarrasque, should he show up. Exes can be such a pain. But, I believe we were talking about you. How come you aren't on your knees, begging for my favour?"

Ross swallowed hard. He looked to his friend, blissed out of his mind, cum still drooling from his prick. He'd be no help against this demoness.

"I...my faith protects me. I am a servant of Jesus Christ, and thus-"

"Your friend Michael had the faith too, and he folded easier than spacetime. No. You saw my true form for a moment there. That's powerful Sight. You're obviously not a Sentinel. No tech about you either. That leaves..." She leaned over him, close enough that he could smell the cum on her breath. Hesitant to move, he let her peel his eyelid open. "Curiouser and curiouser. I wouldn't have expected that."

"Expected what?" he asked, terrified of the answer.

"Ordinary human men can't see through my power. Most women can't either. One in a hundred, maybe, have the gift of Sight."

"I don't understand. I'm not a woman," he said with a flat affect.

She raised a sliver of an eyebrow. "Are you sure about that?"

Like the denials of anti-demon bigotry, the denials came out on autopilot. "You can't change the gender you were born as. And I know you demons try to lead people down paths of moral...degradation."

Lilith put her hands on her hips. "Now you don't be saying things like that. Demons are not evil. And we certainly don't force people to live lives contrary to what they feel inside. There is no repression in Hell. That's The Other Side's game."

Ross stood up. He straightened out his clothes and did his best to look like a confident, in control human being. "Let us go, demon. You might not respect the laws of God, but I do."

A pause. Then, she shrugged a shoulder.

"Okay."

The door to the outside audibly clicked open. Relief poured through him. He grabbed Michael's arm and yanked him to his feet. He was still in a daze, cock poking out his fly, but he was following along.

"But if you go," the demoness said, taking a sip from Ross' half-finished lemonade, "You'll never find out your true potential. Or why you feel that way when you look in a mirror."

Ross' eye twitched. His hand froze, fingertip brushing the door knob.

"How do you know about that?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I thought you were on your way. Goodbye, Ross. I doubt we'll meet again."

Deep, long-repressed feelings knotted his gut. He'd had questions for longer than he could remember. At first he was dumb enough to ask them. First his parents, then his pastor. Both had told him, in no uncertain terms, to never ask those questions again. So he didn't. But...he still wanted answers. He had to know.

Ross opened the door, but instead of stepping through himself, he pushed Michael out. "Go to the pool party, I'll meet you there," he said, then shut the door.

"Alright," he said, spinning on his heel, "I want to know what you know."

"And if it goes against your faith?"

The cross on his neck felt like it was made out of lead. "Answers first."

"Hmm, very well. Hold still."

She reached for his shirt. He jumped back, but she was far too quick to dodge entirely. But instead of pulling on his collar, she yanked on something else. His whole body shuddered, and he heard this great tearing noise that made him reel. He collapsed, back sliding down the wall as all the energy left his body. Standing above him, clutched in Lilith's hand, was an apparition. A blue-green humanoid shade that bled off visible energy down its extremities, like it was a solid sublimating in room temperature.

"What the fu...fuck..." He couldn't breathe, his heart pounded but his lungs couldn't catch enough air to keep up with the panicked demand. The figure twisted in Lilith's grasp. Its neck twisted left and right, and Ross finally got a good look at it.

It was a woman's face.

Lilith let go, and the spectre shot back into his body. He inhaled, suddenly able to breathe again. Ross checked himself for wounds, though if anything else, he was merely checking to see if he still had corporeal form.

"You're fine," Lilith assured him. She knelt down beside him, but not in lurid desire. She got to her knees because she wanted to talk to him. "Hey. So, uhh, I guess you saw what I pulled out of you."

"Why was there...a woman...inside of me?" he asked, still terribly confused.

"Oh Ross. Poor, sweet Ross. That woman is you. That's your soul, silly!"

Silence.

She feigned a smile. "But you already knew this deep down, didn't you?"

He didn't respond to that either. He slid past her and dropped down onto the couch again. Drinking the last of the lemonade, he struggled to put his feelings into words for the first time in almost twenty years.

Cheater's Gallery Ep. 02: Denise

The following is the result of a suggestion sent by a reader. Adrestia Rhamnousia first appeared in "The Cheating Zone 03: Lori," as "Dr. A," and appeared in a couple other episodes of that series. I decided to feature her in a series of her own.



Like "The Cheating Zone," each episode in this series can be read as a separate story.



As always, constructive comments are always welcome and appreciated. Please refer to my profile for more on my personal policy regarding comments, feedback, follows, etc. And remember, this is a work of fiction, meaning that it is not real in any way, shape, matter or form.



It was early afternoon when I pulled up to our house, an old two-story farmhouse set out in the Kansas countryside surrounded by large fields of wheat and alfalfa. Before you ask, no, I'm not a farmer. For that matter, I wouldn't know one end of a tractor from another. The fields belong to someone else, thank God.

My name is Bill Jacobs. Maybe you've heard of me, or read some of my work. I'm an art critic whose weekly articles are syndicated in about 200 newspapers across the country and featured on a number of large mainstream websites. I do most of my work here, in this quaint country house my wife of eight years and I decided we would call home. I do spend some time on the road, about one to three days a week, depending on what it is I'm writing about at the time.

My wife, Denise, works as a surgeon at the county hospital located in what the locals here call a town. Don't get me wrong -- they're good people -- honest, decent, hard-working folks who take care of their families and try to do right. The kind of people who look you in the eye when they shake your hand. It's just that the town isn't quite what I'm used to, having lived in southern California most of my life.

I met her at an exhibit in Los Angeles. I was covering it for the paper I wrote for and she was there taking a break from her studies. At the time, she was a student finishing her medical degree. I remembered that day as if it were yesterday. I was examining a piece of art, making notes in my pad when she approached me.

"That's an interesting piece," she said.

"Think so?" I asked.

"Yes, I do," she responded. "What do you think?"

"Personally, I've seen more cerebral work done by six-year-olds with crayons," I told her.

"Don't you like abstract art?" she asked.

"I like abstract art okay," I said. "But this... This isn't abstract. It's lazy. No doubt done by someone who hasn't sold anything in a few months. Probably figured he'd slap some paint on a canvas, stick his little finger out and spout some psychobabble about inner conflict or something. He'll probably sell it, but I wouldn't give a plugged nickel for it myself."

"Are you an art buyer?" she asked.

"No, I'm a critic," I said. "Bill Jacobs," I said, offering my hand.

"Denise Blackman," she said, taking my hand. "You're a real art critic?" I chuckled at that.

"Yup," I said. "They actually pay me real money to write horrible things about stuff like this. Some artists actually think it's a badge of honor to be insulted by me." She laughed at that.

"Sounds like an interesting life," she said. I shrugged my shoulders.

"It can be," I said. "Mostly, I travel to see exhibits like this, maybe talk to an artist or two. Most of my time is spent on a computer, though. It can get rather boring. What about you?"

"I'm a medical student," she said. "I start my residency next year."

"Now that sounds exciting," I told her.

"It's all work and no play," she said. "That's why I came here. I need a break from studying."

"I can understand that," I told her. "Now if you want to see some REAL art, take a gander at that piece over there," I added, pointing to a picture of a country farmhouse covered in snow. "Tell me what you think of it." She looked at the piece and her face lit up.

"That kinda reminds me of where I grew up in Kansas," she said. "I love the way the moonlight reflects off the house."

"Are you sure it's moonlight?" I asked. "Stand in front of it and tell me what you think." She walked to the picture and I followed her. She looked shocked as she stood in front of it.

"It looks so much different from here," she said.

"Indeed," I said. "The brush strokes the artist used and way the colors are blended, it's almost like looking at a different picture depending on where you stand. And if you look close enough, you'll see detail here you never would have picked up over there."

"You're right," she said. "I like this."

"Congratulations," I said. "You're now an art critic." She laughed.

"Oh no," she said. "I could never do what you do. I'd be too afraid of hurting someone's feelings."

We spent the next two hours looking at the rest of the exhibit. I had to admit, I liked hearing her input on different portraits. I hated it when she had to leave, but I understood that she had to get back to class. We exchanged numbers and email addresses before she left.

"It's been a pleasure meeting you, Bill," she said, giving me a peck on the cheek. "I'd like to do this again sometime."

"So would I," I told her.

We spent the next few months getting to know each other and started dating exclusively. At first I was concerned she might be put off by the fact that I was six years older than her, but she wasn't. She certainly did make me feel like a younger man. One thing led to another and before you know it, we got married.

I thought I had hit the jackpot. Denise was -- and still is, in my opinion -- a very warm and loving woman. Sex between us wasn't just good -- it was over-the-top great. She never complained about my work schedule, and never complained when I had to travel across the country to review an exhibit.

At the same time, her hours varied greatly, as she worked through her five-year residency. Sometimes she worked a normal day shift, but often had to work late or work after hours depending on what was going on. We discussed this in the beginning and I had no problem with her odd schedule, even though it often made it difficult for us to connect in the evenings or on weekends.

After her residency, she was offered a job at the hospital in her home town. They had just put in a fancy new surgical center so the locals wouldn't have to go hundreds of miles to get surgery. By then, I had become syndicated, so it really didn't matter where I worked, physically. The Internet was my office and I could submit pieces from anywhere on the planet, so long as I had web access. So we packed our things, sold the condo and headed to Kansas.

The house we bought was a two-story farm house that supposedly dated back to the 19^th century. Everything had been upgraded so it sported all the modern conveniences, including central air conditioning. I made sure it had cable access, which included high-speed Internet -- that was crucial for my work.

We turned one bedroom on the second floor into my office, and planned to use the third bedroom as a nursery. The master bedroom was huge and included a nicely-appointed master bathroom that could easily accommodate both of us at the same time.

The biggest adjustment for me was the fact that nights in the country were actually dark. I mean, pitch-black. You couldn't even see your hand if you put it in front of your face. This was a far cry from what I was used to in the bright lights of the big city.

What I really loved, though, was the view of the night sky. I had never seen so many stars before in my life. I used to have a small telescope when I was a kid, and enjoyed looking through it at night, but nothing prepared me for this. Seeing my interest in the night sky, Denise surprised me with a nice eight-inch telescope that had all the accessories needed for taking pictures. Naturally, I thanked her that night in bed -- repeatedly.

It took a while for me to get the hang of astrophotography -- there's a lot more to it than just pointing a camera and clicking. But I eventually figured it out and soon, my office was adorned with pictures of planets, galaxies and brightly-colored nebulae. Denise had even taken a few to decorate her office.

The most fun for me, though, were the nights Denise and I sat out back with the scope. After watching the stars for a while, we would often make love right there in the back yard, under the night sky. I felt like I was on top of the world.

The first seven years or so of our marriage seemed idyllic -- at least to me. I had a good job I loved, a nice home and a beautiful loving wife. What more could a man want, I thought. We had even started discussing children. Denise had been on birth control, and wanted to wait until she was more established, which I understood.

Then I started seeing subtle changes in her. Her hours got longer, more erratic. She became short-tempered over the littlest things and we argued over ridiculous issues. I figured it was the stress of her job, so I didn't say much.

One year, she was asked to attend a medical conference in Wichita. The conference lasted five days, starting on a Monday. She seemed pensive and out of sorts before she left, but she wouldn't say why. I tried to make love to her the night before she left, but she begged off, claiming a headache.

The next day, she left, promising to call me every night. I had a major exhibit to review that week in New York and, looking at my itinerary, found that I could meet her in Wichita that Friday and come home with her. I hoped she would appreciate the surprise.

The exhibit went well, and I managed to get my article done by my weekly deadline. Denise called every night as she promised, but I got the feeling that she would rather do anything other than talk to me. I decided not to say anything about the upcoming Friday. I figured that maybe we could even spend the weekend there.

I got to the hotel where Denise was staying and looked all over for her, but couldn't find her. After verifying my identity, the hotel said she had not checked out of her room yet, and might be in one of the conferences still taking place. So I placed a call.

"Are you alright, Bill?" she asked in a quiet voice when she answered the call.

"Yes," I said. "I thought I'd surprise you by stopping by on my way back from New York. I figured we could spend the weekend here and then go home together. Where are you? Are you in a seminar or something?"

"Well, yes, I am," she said, sounding irritated. I could hear someone say something to her in the background, but I couldn't make out what was being said. I could tell Denise covered the phone so I couldn't hear her response and wondered why she would do that. After a few moments, she uncovered the phone and spoke to me.

"Listen, sweetie," she said. "That's so sweet of you to surprise me like this, but I'm afraid I won't be very good company right now."

"Why's that?" I asked.

"Well, I've been invited to observe a couple of procedures over at the hospital here by the head of surgery, so I'll be here for another day or so," she said. "I didn't know about it until just a couple hours ago. I'm sorry. I'll be home Sunday night and we can make up for it then."

"Yeah, okay," I said. "It's just that I've missed you all week."

"I miss you, too," she said. "Please, go on home and I'll see you Sunday night, okay? Promise."

"Okay," I said. "See you then. Love you."

"Love you, too," she said. She didn't immediately close the connection and I thought I heard her say something about dodging a bullet. It's possible I didn't hear her correctly, but that's what it sounded like. So I went back to the airport and caught a flight back home. To say I wasn't very happy was an understatement. For the first time in our married life, I began to wonder if she was cheating on me.

Denise did get back on Sunday. Well, technically, it was actually Monday, at about 2:30 am. She tried to move quietly so as not to wake me up, but I was already awake. She put her suitcases in the closet, then went into the bathroom. She came out a few minutes later wearing a floor-length robe and climbed into bed. I couldn't help but notice the distinct odor of cigar smoke, after shave and something else when she tried to cuddle next to me.

"Please go take a shower," I mumbled. "You smell like an ashtray."

"I'm too tired to take a shower," she said.

"Fine," I told her, getting up. "I'll go sleep on the couch." I grabbed my pillow and a blanket and headed downstairs. I didn't sleep too well that night, only drifting off a couple times. I got up at 8:00, when Denise stumbled into the kitchen to start coffee.

"Thought you were going to be home yesterday," I said.

"I'm sorry," she said, wiping the sleep from her eyes. I could still detect the odor of cigar and after shave, so I kept my distance. "It went longer than I originally planned and I had a hell of a time getting a flight last night. Why were you such a sourpuss when I came in?"

"Sorry, you know how sensitive I am to odors," I said. "I could smell cigar smoke and after shave all over you when you came in this morning. What were you doing, anyway?"

"Dr. Branstead took a smoke break on the way to the airport," she said. "I didn't even think that you might smell it on me."

"And the after shave?" I asked. "Was that his?"

"Probably," she said.

"You had to have been awful close to get it all over you like that," I said.

"He gave me a goodbye hug when he dropped me off at the airport," she said.

"That must've been some hug," I told her.

"Look, nothing happened, alright?" she snapped.

"You're mighty defensive over something that never happened," I said. "I just asked a simple question."

"You're right," she said. "I'm sorry, I was wiped when I left there and I was just too tired to even think about a shower when I got home."

"So, what's your schedule like?" I asked her.

"I don't have to be at the hospital until 11:00 today," she said. "I'm meeting our new head of surgery and then I have a couple procedures this afternoon. I'll probably be late getting home."

"All right," I said. "I'll order a pizza, then. I'd better get to it, see what my week looks like."

"Bill," Denise said as I turned to go upstairs. "I really am sorry we didn't connect this weekend."

"Me too," I said with a wry smile. "Maybe next weekend."

As predicted, Denise didn't get home until after 8:00 pm, and of course, she was exhausted. I didn't complain too much as I knew how hard she works. I had an exhibit to review in Denver that week, so between that and her flaky schedule, we saw very little of each other that week. We did manage, however, to spend some time together over the weekend, but I sensed there was something else on Denise's mind.

About a month or so later, Denise announced that we were invited to a social function the hospital was holding. The reason, she said, was to introduce the new regional director. So, I got my best suit cleaned and accompanied her to the event.

Denise looked stunning in her black dress, which highlighted her figure quite nicely. It wasn't risque by any means but she still looked good enough to eat. I was proud to escort my lovely wife to the dinner that night, and that's where I met the new regional director -- Dr. George Branstead.

He came up to us when we arrived at the event, and I noticed that he appeared to be a bit older than me, with a full head of dark hair that showed some gray at the temples. He filled out his suit nicely, and looked like someone who worked out. I also noticed that he was about three inches taller than me and outweighed me by a good 20 pounds, all of which appeared to be muscle. I instantly recognized the after shave he wore and the slight scent of cigar smoke that seemed to hang around him.

"This must be the famous art critic, Bill Jacobs," he said as he held out his hand. "I've heard a lot about you," he added as we shook hands. "In fact, I have you to thank for keeping me from making a bad decision."

"How's that?" I asked.

"Well, that article you wrote about the exhibit in Washington, D.C., a couple years ago," he said. "My wife and I had been thinking about getting a couple new pieces of art that were being shown there, but after you did that review, we changed our minds."

"Glad to be of service," I said. "I take it you already know my wife from that conference in Wichita."

"Yes," he said. "That's quite a woman you have there." I noticed the glances between them and wondered if there was something else going on.

"Yes, I agree," I told him.

"She's quite the surgeon," he added. "I have big plans for her and I'm quite sure she's up to the task," he said, looking at her. I noticed her face turning a bit red and wondered what it was that would embarrass her like that.

The evening went fairly well. Dinner was nice, and we heard from several higher-ups about Dr. Branstead -- how wonderful he was, how much he did for the community, blah, blah, blah. Then we were dismissed to enjoy the open bar and the dance floor.

Denise and I danced several times, and she took a turn or two with Dr. Branstead. I watched as they danced, and it seemed to me they were a little closer to each other than I considered appropriate. More than once, I saw him whisper something to Denise, causing her to laugh. A couple of times, she glanced my way after he said something to her, and I wondered what it was they were discussing. He escorted her back to me and made a show of offering her hand to me.

"I think it only fitting the good doctor have the last dance with her husband," he said with a smirk. I thanked him and took Denise's hand. I held her close as we danced and I noticed the cigar/after-shave smell on her. I wondered if this was how she got his stink on her at Wichita.

Finally, the dance was over and we left. Looking around, I saw Branstead leaving the venue alone and wondered where his wife was. We left and drove home.

"I noticed George was alone tonight," I said. "What happened to his wife?"

"He said she wasn't feeling good enough to come," Denise said.

"You two seemed to hit it off nice," I told her. "Do I have anything to be worried about?"

"Of course not," she said. "You're the only one I love."

"I'm glad to hear that," I said. "And you're the only one I love. So, what are these so-called 'big plans' he has for you?"

"There's been talk of having surgeons travel to do procedures at different hospitals in the area," she said. "I just happen to be on the list."

"I see," I said. "It sounded to me like he had something else in mind."

"I don't know what that could be," she said. I had never caught her in a lie before, but something about all this didn't sit right with me. I decided to drop the subject until I had more information.

Things were a bit strained over the next couple months. Denise's schedule was even worse than before. She was placed on a team that saw her traveling to clinics and hospitals throughout this part of the state and I had no idea when she would be working. We hardly ever saw each other, and when we did, it was only to say "hello" and "goodbye."

Frustrated, I tried to get her to change her schedule so we could spend time together, but it seemed that she was more concerned about working her way up the ladder than anything else. Something about all of this didn't quite pass my reporter's "smell test." Part of me thought about hiring a private investigator, but a couple of things stopped me. First of all, if she was innocent, she would be royally pissed over me spying on her, and with good cause. Second, I didn't want to spend a lot of money only to find out nothing was going on.

Rough Day

"Oh, that's great." Becky looked in her rear view mirror at the flashing red and blue lights. "That's just fucking great."

Becky's day had already been a day from hell. Actually, her whole month had been nothing but stress and chaos. From the outside looking in, Becky seemed to have a great life. She and her husband Bob, were still technically newlyweds, having been married just under a year. They made the perfect couple - young, gorgeous and were totally in love with each other.

Since the wedding, they had been leasing a gorgeous, though somewhat small, condo in a nice middle class neighborhood. They had planned on living there until they could afford a nice home of their own. But that all changed when the entire complex had been sold out to make room for a new shopping center. They were suddenly told that they had to move out at the end of their lease, just two short months away. So, for the last month, she and her husband had been busting their butts working slave hours, picking up as much overtime as they could to be able to afford a decent down payment on a nice home.

Becky's job as an emergency room nurse was already hectic to begin with. But now that she was picking up extra shifts, she never knew if she was coming or going. And, as if her job was not stressful enough, her new boss was a complete asshole, who seemed to delight in making everyone around him miserable. But, she couldn't afford to take a transfer and a probable pay cut until the house was bought.

The result of all these crazy hours was that Becky and her husband were seeing less and less of each other. When one was coming, the other was going. She couldn't remember the last time they even slept in the same bed together. And when they do, they are usually both so tired they fall straight to sleep. And that was another problem. Their sex life had taken a major hit during all this mess, which up to this point had been extremely active. They had gone from making love 4 or 5 times a week, to almost nothing. She could count on her hand the number of times they had sex the past month.

So tonight, Becky decided to force the issue and spend some quality time together. She had gotten off from the hospital at a semi reasonable hour. And although her husband was still working, she knew he would have a lunch break coming later in the evening. It was a beautiful summer evening, so she packed a beautiful picnic lunch, complete with table cloth to spread on the ground and a CD player for romantic music. Her plan was to have a nice, peaceful meal under the stars together, then fuck his brains out before he had to go back to work.

Becky dressed for the occasion, wearing a very tight black leather mini skirt and cotton halter top. She glanced in the full length mirror in their bedroom. The outfit made her look slutty, the exact look she was going for. He flame red hair was tied up, with gentle swirls falling about her face. Her large, c-cup breasts, which looked even larger then they were on her small 5'4" frame, were barely held back by the cloth of her halter. The skirt hugged her hips perfectly. He turned and looked a killer ass that was tight and round. She blew herself a kiss. Her husband did not stand a chance. She then drove to their favorite park to a nice secluded area that they both knew well. Outdoor sex is a favorite of theirs. And this time of night, they could be certain of total privacy. She text messaged her husband and told him to get his ass up there on his lunch for some hot food and hotter pussy. He wrote back that he would be there as soon as he could, but they had been extremely busy all night and it might take a bit.

Becky laid everything out perfectly, including real plates, cups and silverware. She even had a candle for romantic effect. She had also brought wine coolers. She knew he couldn't drink and then go back to work, but that shouldn't stop her. besides, drinking always made her horny. Not that she needed the extra help tonight. It had been so long, a stiff breeze blowing up her skirt would probably set her off.

A half hour passed. She texted him back and asked where he was. No answer. She realized he must be very busy. She of all people understood the demands of a hectic job. A few wine coolers and an hour later, she realized he was probably not coming. The food had long gone cold, and so had she. She packed everything up and climbed into her car. Extremely discouraged, she started to drive away, wondering how things could possibly get worse. And now she was being pulled over.

She eased her car to the side of the parking lot. With the bright lights, she could barely make out the silhouette of the officer walking towards her car. She suddenly realized that she had been drinking, and prayed that the officer could not smell it on her. When the officer reached her vehicle, he had his flashlight pointed at her face. She squinted up to see him, but all she saw was the light. Then she heard his rugged, deep voice.

"Ma'am, may I ask what you are doing up here this late at night. You do realize the park is closed?"

"Yes sir" she answered. "I was suppose to meet my husband up here for a romantic moonlight picnic, but the ass stood me up."

"A man should be shot for leaving a beautiful woman up here all alone" he said. He honestly meant it. Even in this dim light, he could see the beauty of her slightly freckled face framed by gorgeous red hair. And a blind man could not have missed her ample breasts filling out her halter top.

He leaned closer to the car and sniffed out loud. "Ma'am, have you been drinking tonight?"

Oh Shit. Here it comes, she thought. "I did have a couple of wine coolers earlier, but that's all, really" she said. She could feel a slight buzz, but did not think she was anywhere near intoxicated.

"Step out of the car ma'am."

Becky shut the car off and stepped out. For the first time she got a good look at the officer. He was extremely handsome, young, and filled out his uniform very well, his muscles stretching the sleeves of his shirt to the point they looked as if they would split open. His dazzling blue eyes she could even see in this dim light. He also was getting an eye full. Her tight skirt hugged her in just the right places. Below the skirt her long, lean legs led down to a sexy pair of high heels. She looked more like a street walker then a frustrated housewife. The fact did not escape her that he was roaming his eyes over her young body. This started her juices flowing once again.

The officer told her she would have to go through a field sobriety test before he could let her go. This frustrated Becky, because she knew she was not drunk. But the way this hot young cop was eyeing her body, she thought it might be fun. He had her do the finger-to-nose thing, where she spread her arms out wide and tried to touch her nose. As she moved each each arm, she could feel her braless tits moving inside her tight halter. She could see that he noticed this also. He had her do a couple of more boring tests, then one she had never heard of before.

"Take your shoes off ma'am" he said. This puzzled her, but she did it anyway. She turned away from him and slowly bent at the waist, reaching down to take off each shoe, causing her long legs to stretch tight. His eyes roamed up her lean legs to the hem of her tight skirt that stopped just short of her ass. He knew she was putting on a show for him. He then told her to start hopping on one foot. She shot him a doubtful look, but he repeated his order. She started slowly hopping on her right foot. He told her to go faster. As she did so, her large breasts were bouncing up and down wildly. This is exactly why he had her do this test, which of course was not a real test. He just wanted to she her tits bouncing. Becky caught onto this pretty quickly, as she saw that he was not being shy at all about staring directly at her bouncing boobies.

He had her stop after a couple of minutes. When she did, she could clearly see that he had apparently enjoyed the view. A very nice bulge was forming in the front of his uniform pants. The fact that she was turning him on caused her own arousal to grow. She absolutely loved teasing men, and women for that matter. Its all good.

He next wanted her to walk a straight line placing one foot in front of another. Looking around, she saw that the area was still completely deserted except for them. Time to turn up the heat she thought to herself. She started the test, but faked the fact that she could not walk well.

"This skirt is too tight for me to do this test in" she protested. "Can I make an adjustment and start again?" she asked.

"Sure, whatever you have to do" he told her.

Becky reached to her side, unsnapped the skirt and lowered the zipper on the side. She then let it fall to the ground and kicked it aside, leaving her standing in a barely-there black g-string. "There, that's better" she said. The skirt was not the only thing to hit the ground. The officers jaw fell wide open as he watched her start to walk away from him. His eyes were fixed on the glorious globes of her tight ass, with just a tiny piece of cloth between them. He quickly adjusted the front of his pants to accommodate his growing cock. When she turned to come back towards him, he saw that the front of the panties did little more then cover her pussy lips. She had to be shaved bare, there was no way for even a single hair to hide behind them. As Beck walked back towards him, she could clearly see that he was having trouble standing straight, the huge bulge in his pants obviously causing him great discomfort.

She stopped directly in front of him and put her hands on her hips. In the sexiest voice she could find she asked "What do you want me to do for you now?"

It took him a moment to gather his thoughts, but then he walked to the car and brought back a small box. He told her it was a meter to see how much alcohol she had in her system. He placed a small hollow tube on top of it. "Now, I want you to place your lips on this tube and blow until I tell you to stop" he said.

She cocked an eyebrow up and said "So, I blow until you tell me to stop?"

"Yes, and I'll tell you if you do it wrong."

"Oh, I don't think that will be a problem" she said.

She pushed back lightly against his chest with her hand, causing him to lean back against the hood of his car. She then sank to her knees in front of him and started tugging on his zipper.

"What are you doing?" he asked, but made attempt at all to stop her.

"I'm just doing what you told me to do."

Becky pulled down the zipper, having problems getting it over the very impressive bulge. She then reached in and found the prize she was looking for. Grabbing hold of the hot flesh of his cock, she was finally able to wrestle it out of his underwear. It sprang to life right in front of her face. She cooed lightly at the size of the beautiful cock she held in her hands. Thick, long and almost perfectly formed, it made her mouth water.

Wasting no time, she sucked the head of his cock into her hot mouth as she held onto the shaft with both of her tiny hands. He threw his head back and moaned out loud when he felt the soft lips wrap themselves around his rock hard dick. She started bobbing her head up and down on his rigid shaft, each time taking more of his cock into her mouth. He was amazed at how much of him she was squeezing into that small, hot mouth. She pulled him from her mouth and started licking the massive head, swirling her tongue spreading the precum he was leaking out. At the same time she started stroking his shaft. Her other hand reached down cupped his balls, rolling them in her fingers.

She knew she was driving him crazy from the moans he was giving out and the hardness of his cock. The head seemed as if it was about to burst. She increased the speed of her stroking as he started moving his hips forward, fucking her sweet hand. Her hand was moving so fast now it seemed as if a blur.

"I'm cumming, I'm cumming" he warned.

She lowered her mouth and again swallowed the head of his cock just in time as the first huge spurt of his delicious hot cum splashed against the back of her throat. Two, then three more long streams followed. Swallowing as fast as she could she could barely keep up, but was able to handle all of his juice without spilling a drop.

As he seemed to be coming down, she pulled the now semi hard cock from her mouth. She milked a few more drops from his cock with her fingers, which she lapped up with her tongue. She have the head a gentle kiss and then looked up.

"Well, I assume I did it right" she said.

Her words seemed to snap him back into reality. He reached down and easily picked her up in his arms. He turned around and laid her on the hood of the car on her back. Spreading her legs wide, he reached and and pulled aside the small piece of fabric covering her pussy, exposing her beautifully bare lips. She was already soaking wet and the lips had parted, exposing her rock hard clit. The night air felt so good on her suddenly exposed pussy, but she only had a second to enjoy it before he dove forward and shoved his tongue deeply into her hot pussy.

She screamed out loud and the sudden intrusion and reached down to grab his hair with both hands, pulling his face even deeper into her. She was pulling his face so hard against her aching pussy that he could hardly breath. The taste and smell of her beautiful pussy were intoxicating to him. No matter how deep he drove his tongue or how fast he sucked, he couldn't seem to get enough to satisfy his craving.

He pulled back and stood up. Reaching down, he grabbed the elastic bands of her tiny panties and yanked them off her ass, then over her long legs, finally throwing them aside. This time, she spread her legs wide open for him, reaching down and using her fingers spread her pussy lips wide open. Sinking down to his knees before her, he again drove his tongue deep into her, causing her to moan out loud. He drove his tongue in and out of her hot pussy at a blazing speed. Then, pulling his tongue out of her hot pussy, he lifted her legs high, causing her ass to come off the hood of the car. He then lowered his face and ran his tongue over and around her tight asshole. Then placing his tongue against the tight opening, he shoved forward, sinking into her. She reached down and grabbed her legs, pulling them high and wide, giving him unrestricted access.

As he darted his talented tongue in and out of her tight ass, her breathing became very labored and she was grinding her ass into his face hard. He could tell she was getting close. He withdrew from her ass and moving up, he used his fingers to pull her pussy lips wide open. He could see her rock hard clit poking out from its folds. In one swift movement, he bent forward and sucked the hard digit between his lips.

"Oh yeah. FUCK YEAH!" she screamed.

He sucked in hard, drawing her clit deeply between his lips. At the same time he flicked the end of his tongue across it rapidly. Again she reached down and pulled his head to her as tight as she could. Reaching up he shoved first one finger, then two into her steaming hot pussy. He marveled at the heat and wetness of her tight pussy. he shoved the fingers into her hard, again and again, fucking her pussy as fast as he could. That's all it took.

"Yes, yes, yes...FUCK YES!"

Her orgasm crashed down on her hard. She bucked her ass off the hood shoving her pussy as hard as she could against his face. As wave after wave crashed over her, her juices flowed fast and hard, coating his fingers and chin. She was cumming so hard she got dizzy, it had been too long. Each time his tongue hit her now super sensitive clit she jumped as if she had been shocked.

He stood up quickly and took hold of his cock, which was still sticking out of his pants. Again rock hard, he guided it to the opening of her still pulsating pussy. She was still dizzy and feeling the effects of the strong orgasm and did not even realize what he was doing, until she suddenly realized he had the head of his dick touching her pussy lips.

"Oh God, give me a second, let me recov..."

Too late. In one smooth motion, he sank his huge cock the entire length into her soaking wet and well lubed pussy. The sensation of being totally filled by his beautiful cock and the waves of orgasmic pleasure that were still washing over her were almost too much to bear. She felt like she was going to pass out.

He slowly backed his cock out of her pussy, until just the tip was still inside. He then slammed it back all the way in, causing her to jump and scream. He continued this action for several more strokes. Looking down he marvels at the his juice coated cock sliding in and out of her tight pussy.

She reached down and pulled the halter top up, exposing her bare breast to his view. He marveled at the size of her almost perfect globes as she cupped and kneaded them. As his strokes increased in speed, she started to tweak her nipples hard. He also reached up to her mouth, offering the pussy coated fingers he had been fucking her with. She eagerly sucked them into her mouth, savoring the sweet taste of her own juices. After she licked them clean, he reached down with both hands. Taking her legs behind each knee, he pushed them backwards and apart. Planting his feet squarely on the ground, he know started fucking her tight pussy in earnest.

"God yes. Fuck me, fuck me HARD!!"

Using long, hard strokes, he rammed into her tight pussy at an ever increasing speed. She thrashed her head back and forth, in total ecstasy. She released her tits and threw her arms above her head. He marveled at the huge breasts and they bounced almost violently with each hard stroke of his steel hard cock into her. He nipples were so full and hard he thought they might explode.

She was quickly becoming dizzy again. The feel of his long, hard cock completely filling her on each stroke, the feel of his huge balls slapping against her ass, the rising sensations of another huge orgasm starting to build, was almost more then she could stand. It had been so long since she had been fucked this hard, this well.

He could tell she was getting close and his own orgasm was not far behind. He was slamming his cock into her so hard his cock was almost a blur. He could feel the cum starting to boil in his balls and knew that he could not hold back the eruption much longer.

She reached down with one hand and started rubbing her hard clit with a furious motion. The other hand again cupped a huge breast. As she rubbed her clit as hard a s she could, she could feel the top of his cock with her fingertips as it pistoned in and out of her well fucked pussy. She could feel the tingling start in her toes and rapidly make its way down her long legs.

"Oh fuck...here...we...go...again!!"

She suddenly saw white lights behind her tightly shut eyes as her orgasm washed over her body. She tried to scream, but found she couldn't. Incredibly this orgasm was just as powerful, if not stronger, then the first. She tried to scream, but couldn't. She was completely lost to everything but the intense jolts of pleasure that were shooting through her.

As she came, and came, and came her incredible pussy was clenching hard against his still hard pumping cock. That's all it took. He could feel the eruption starting. He pulled his huge cock out of her soaking wet pussy with a loud slurp. He rapidly stroked his cock. The first, huge stream of hot cum shot out and landed across her huge breasts and neck. He continued to stroke himself as he threw his head back. Two, then three more incredible gushes of cum sprayed out across her stomach and pussy.

When his own orgasm subsided, he looked down at her. Spread eagle on his hood, naked except for the halter top munched up over her magnificent breasts. Totally covered from neck to pussy with his cum. Her fingers absent mindedly playing with her soaking wet and gaping pussy. Yes sir. She had the look of a well fucked, and highly satisfied, woman. She looked up at him and smiled.