Speechless, the lady laying on the couch slowly pulled her black top down. Her heaving breasts flop out one after the other, wobbling gently as they rested heavily on her chest. With trembling fingers, she gropes at her areolas, gasping sharply as the stimulation sends jolts of pleasure through her body. Her breathing quickened as she pressed the twin globes together, unable to believe that she was truly the owner of such fully developed mammaries, packed with tightly clustered nerve endings that would have her shuddering through a number unexpected orgasms should they be roughly handled. She looked up nervously at the smirking man in front of her even as she brought her fingers down to her crotch, already knowing that the only thing she will find will be her wet pussy, the slick, sensitive folds that she had built her career around.
Without a doubt, she was Charlotte, a mature blonde escort with large, prominent tits, and anyone that saw her would agree with that assessment. She was a loose, sultry woman who only possessed skills in lovemaking, and not much else. And given that she only spoke French, she would never be able to learn anything new in her role as a lowly cumdumpster in the seedy club she had found employment at. All she would ever be capable of doing was squealing and cooing as her customers fucked her brains out. Nothing but a stupid little sextoy for men to use and throw away.
Yet that was precisely why she was shocked.
Because she was absolutely certain that ten minutes ago, she had been Anthony Merickson, a media mogul with a net worth ranging in the hundreds of millions. Why on earth was she Charlotte now? She tried to recall what had led her to this point. But her mind was fuzzy with arousal and need, and she had to fight to break through the fake memories that insisted she was always this dumb, illiterate slut. That she always craved the strong touch of a man, and the rough fucking that ensued. That she loved the warm sensations of being filled with thick, hot cum.
Eventually, she managed to remember a small snippet of conversation.
“I wouldn’t recommend her,” she saw a man warn, gesturing to the MILF by his side eagerly displaying her fat tits and her needy cunt. Charlotte recognised him. That was Eric, her pimp. “Besides the fact she doesn’t speak a lick of English, she has a strange condition that you might not be okay with.”
“But she’s perfect for me!” Charlotte heard herself say. “Cougars always do it for me, and she’s the spitting image of the stereotypical MILF! I don’t give a shit if she can’t speak English!”
Eric seemed nervous, wringing his hands even as Anthony pushed him to give in. Charlotte felt her heart rate quicken. What condition? Why was her pimp so reluctant then?
“… Okay, fine,” She remembered that Eric finally relented. Anthony had raised his offer to an absurd figure that he would be foolish to pass on. “It doesn’t happen often anyways. Plus, the only way it would become permanent would be if you forgot everything. If that happened, it would be irreversible. You would be Charlotte forever. So just to be safe, if something does happen, remember this phrase. It might be the only way you can escape a fate of being trapped as a dumb French whore for the rest of your life.”
What?! There was a way to escape?! Charlotte panicked as she struggled to bring up the words that might have freed her from her predicament, but to no avail. She was drawing a complete blank. It was as if whatever had caused her to become Charlotte was blocking that memory. Just then, the man in front of her spoke up in a thick French accent, grinning.
“Come, Charlotte. Let us complete ze change. You can have my body which you liked so much, and I can have your body with all ze money in ze world!”
Charlotte backed away, frightened.
“How did you do this? Change us back! I’m supposed to be you! Anthony Merickson! Why can I remember being a dumb French slut named Charlotte?!”
At this, the fake Anthony chuckled. “Don’t you remember what happened? Try and think of it.”
And she did.
As soon as Eric had left, Anthony had wasted no time undressing. He pushed the curvy escort onto the mattress and smiled as she yelped cutely. Ah, he just loved dominating an experienced woman like her! Mature sluts like these were like fine wines; they only got better with age! But just as he had pressed his ready cock into her waiting cunt, he blacked out.
Then… nothing?
Charlotte blinked, confused. She had the feeling of remembering… something. Something important. Yet she still felt empty. Somehow, it felt like a huge chunk of something had been robbed from her. But as she kept thinking and thinking, the discomfort slowly resolved itself. She was Charlotte. She was a horny, mature escort, currently servicing a man.
That was all she needed to know.
“Are you still confused, my stupid little French slut? Come suck my cock as I explain.”
Charlotte didn’t understand any of the strange words coming from her customer’s mouth, but she did know what a throbbing, erect cock was for. So she obediently laid on her side, wrapped her painted nails around the stiff rod, and got to work.
“You were terrified, were you not? Why am I suddenly the hooker I was fucking?! Haha! Too bad you didn’t know how this works! So there’s no way you can stop this change!” Charlotte wasn’t quite sure why the customer was talking so much. Perhaps he wanted her to go a little quicker. She bobbed her head a little faster.
“The more you remember, the more it becomes a part of you. Becomes real! I don’t remember any French anymore!” He crowed in perfect, fluent English as Charlotte quietly slobbered on his dick.
“And now I know all about your bank accounts, your mansions and sports cars! Which means… now you know all about blowjobs! How to seduce men with your large breasts! To be a stupid little slut like I was!”
“Can you remember it? Growing up and realising that all you could think of was hard dicks and drinking cum? Dreaming of becoming a slutty prostitute and nothing else?”
Suddenly, Anthony grunted in exertion. Charlotte felt the meaty rod in her mouth twitch. She knew what this was, and happily maintained her rhythm. Soon her favourite treat would arrive!
“Take this, you whore! Here comes your farewell gift from your former body!”
Charlotte moaned in ecstasy as the cock in her mouth pulsed, ejaculating globs of delicious, warm semen into her. Naturally, she didn’t let any of it go to waste, hungrily swallowing every last drop. She knew that this was what men liked her to do, and she loved doing it.
Panting, Anthony fell back, satisfied with the first orgasm he had experienced.
Charlotte took this as her cue, and got to her feet, licking her lips as she savoured the salty taste of the load she had taken. She still had three more customers tonight, so she had to hurry! Oh, but maybe she could get Eric to squeeze in another client! There was that hunk that had winked at her on the way in! Maybe he would like her to service him too!
Deep in the thoughts of a brainless French hooker, Charlotte scarcely noticed Anthony walking up behind her. “Charlotte?” Anthony smiled as he tapped the shoulder of the mature escort with a blank look on her face. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Huh?”
Startled, the whore turned to face him, confused. Evidently her customer still wanted something from her.
Of course, all the new Anthony wanted was to confirm was that there was no chance that the slut could reverse her fate. And as Charlotte didn’t seem to remember one word of the lengthy explanation she had been given, it seemed that she was well and truly drained of any trace of Anthony Merickson. Charlotte frowned, wracking her dumb little brain. She had done a good job, hadn’t she? So what could he want?
…oh! Maybe he wanted her to thank him for the good time he had given her! Charlotte giggled. Men were so silly.
“Merci pour, ce bon moment.” (Thank you for your time.) she innocently replied. “Reviens me retrouver plus tard!” (Come back and see me later!)
===
The condition that Eric had spoken of was one of ancient sorcery. A long lasting spell that afflicted all women of Charlotte’s ancestry. Jealous of their beauty, a rival family had cursed the women of their clan. Those girls quickly found themselves with insatiable libidos and greatly diminished intelligence. Attention spans that were exceedingly short- unless it was something to do with a man’s cock.
Since then, Charlotte and her ancestors were unable to work as anything but mere hookers and prostitutes.
Yet there had been a loophole. The spell cast was inadequate. It seemed that the subject were innately aware that they were under the influence of this magic, and given a way out. As soon as a man thrust into their cunt, fully dominating their curvy, sexy bodies, they could choose to send their souls through the connection that had formed, displacing the man’s soul into their former body. That was how Charlotte’s ancestors had escaped.
By becoming the wealthy, powerful men that had lusted over them.
However, at this point, this swap was still incomplete. Their souls were mostly still their own, after all. A man’s soul was vastly different from that of a woman’s. So if the customers of these whores knew a simple phrase, they would be able to wrest back control. Return themselves to their own bodies and regain their lives as powerful men. That was the phrase Eric had tried to tell Anthony.
That he should not remember.
To fight the swap, all one had to do was to keep their minds empty. Deny the magic any possibility of dyeing their souls in feminine, pink colors.
Because the more they remembered, the more the change solidified. Memories would increasingly flow into their minds, making them more and more indistinguishable from the form they now possessed. Eventually, they would only have the memories of the body that they now owned.
But this time, unlike her predecessor, the new slut would be unaware of her escape route. She would not know she had the ability to swap one’s soul with her sexual partners.
Because she would only be able to remember memories of being nothing but a dumb French whore. Remember loving the feeling of hot cum sliding down her throat. Remember giving up everything to make herself the ideal fucktoy for men to enjoy.
With that, she would have no choice.
No choice but to love being trapped as an obedient cocksucker for the rest of her life. Love giggling brainlessly as men squeezed her large, fat tits. Love presenting herself as the stupid little whore that she now was forever.
Because that would be all she could remember.
