[TG/RC] A Cautionary Tale - Part 2 (Patreon)

An Anonymous Commission.

The sun was setting by the time he got back to Chinatown. With no money, he’d had no choice but to walk much of the way, occasionally lucking out and picking up a few coins until he had enough for bus fare. Then he’d spent another half an hour just trying to understand the bus schedule and figure out which one to catch. When he finally stepped out into the streets that smelt of wood smoke and spice he sighed in relief. What an awful day this had been. He never dreamed he would be slumming it on public transport, let alone having to scrap change in order to even afford it; this was the most humiliating day of his life.

Every sigh he passed in Vietnamese that he could read effortlessly was another kick to the gut. He never thought he would speak another language, learning had been too much effort. Now he was stuck on the other side .

“There you are.” Lan, the neighbour from this morning, smiled as he stepped up into the hall, “Did you want to work the corner by the bar with me tonight?”

Derek was so tired after his long walk and ride, the idea of working made his legs tremble with exhaustion. He wanted to say no but the knowledge that his wallet was filled with nothing but dust made him hesitate. He needed to figure this out, turn back into himself; but until then he needed to be able to eat and presumably pay the rent on the shitty room that was passing for his apartment.

“Yeah sure.” He nodded.

“You look so tired, are you sure you’re okay?” Lan asked as her brow furrowed, “I’d offer to help out but I barely got anybody last night, I’m pretty light on money myself. Especially with cigarettes getting more expensive.”

“Ahuh.” Derek nodded tiredly, “I’d better go put on my uniform.”

Lan gave him a bewildered look before giggling and nodding, waving goodbye as he practically fell into his apartment. It was so tempting to eat whenever he found in the fridge raw and then fall into bed but he knew that would be a mistake.

Instead he stripped off the sweat soaked clothes, including the bra and chucked them in the basket inside the tiny bathroom which he assumed was for dirty clothes. The shower was Heavenly, despite the fact the water was lukewarm at best. Still, it washed away the sweat and helped to give him a second wind. He peeled one of the lychees sitting in the bowl atop his mini fridge and popped it in his mouth, enjoying the sweet taste on his tongue while he rummaged around for his work uniform.

He had no idea what Huong did for a living but clearly she worked at the same place Lan did. Yet, almost half an hour of searching yielded nothing even remotely like a uniform. Even more surprisingly, for a lady who was clearly poor he sure had a lot of clothes. Skimpy ones at that, he picked up a pair of fishnet stockings and grimaced; such things were not for women over the age of twenty five in his opinion.

It was then Lan’s words began to sink in; working the corner, clients, the skimpy clothes, the fact that Huong seemed to only work with cash and not own a single card…no. No, he couldn’t be! Yet as Lan knocked on the door, dressed in a too tight corset style dress and heels asking to borrow his purple eyeshadow ‘for tonight’, he couldn't deny it. Not only had he been transformed into a middle aged woman.

He had been changed into a prostitute.

~

He was at a crossroad; on the one hand, he needed money, badly. On the other hand, the only way Huong had to earn it was on her back, a concept that made his guts twist and his face burn. On the surface, he wasn't against getting paid to have sex but this sex would inevitably be with him being pinned down by some greasy man and being forced to pretend he was enjoying it if he wanted a good pay day. Debasing himself in such a way was just too big a hit to his pride.

He sat in nothing but his panties and bra, plain black, afraid to put on anything raunchier. His other outfits were laid out on the bed, taunting him. Dress up sexy, earn money; dress conservative or stay home and he would keep the tattered remains of his pride but likely run out of food in the next few days.

He opened the fridge and was yet again met with all those ingredients he didn’t know. If he could, he’d throw it all out and go down to the grocer to get something familiar but for obvious reasons that was off the table. He had no choice but to start googling the ingredients and figuring out what he could cook.

He couldn’t help but grimace as he poured fish sauce and broth into a tiny pot with some noodles. He was sure this had to be a mistake, there was no way fish sauce of all things could make a dish taste good; it stank like an old boat! According to the internet though, most of the things he had on hand could be used to make a soup called Pho and out of all the options he found, that looked the easiest.

He sat cross legend on the bed with a piping hot bowl of the noodles and had to admit, it tasted rather good. The steam wafted into his face and he felt the heat open his pores. Perhaps he could make a decision about what to wear once he’d eaten; when he could think a little more clearly.

He slurped up the noodles, bracing for the stink of fish that never came. The meal was hearty, filling in that way that made your heart feel warm. He drank down every last drop of the broth and shoved the noodles in his mouth with alarming speed. He hated to admit it but between this and the bahn mi he was starting to think that perhaps he had been just a tad closed minded about trying foreign food.

He placed the bowl back on his tiny bench space, looking at the empty packet of noodles and almost empty carton of broth. He sighed heavily; there was no choice, he had to go to work tonight; much as it pained him.

“It’s not like anybody knows it’s you.” he whispered to himself as he took out a short red dress, “Just grit your teeth and get it over with, once you change back nobody will ever know.”

He squeezed himself into the tight dress, it was made of a stiff, almost glossy material with ribbons up both sides. One tug and the dress would fall off him; that was by design he imagined. His chest was pressed up and squeezed, nearly doubling the size of his cleavage; an impressive feat considering it wasn't small before. He brushed his short dark hair until it was a glossy black and rested just against his shoulders and finished the look with a pair of strappy heels that ran all the way to his knees

He looked in the mirror and frowned; he looked…wrong. Not just because he was a woman but the outfit looked almost stereotypical. When he imagined a corner hooker in his mind, this is what he saw. He pulled a face and tugged the ribbon sending the dress to the floor.

If he was forced to be a hooker he was at least going to be one with a bit more class. He riffled through, finding several traditional looking garments which he was tempted by but ultimately left behind after using google to search up similar outfits. Turns out ao dai’s were traditional Vietnamese garb and somehow wearing them while working a corner felt…wrong. Even for him.

He settled on something in the middle. A western style mini dress with a high neckline that left a teardrop shaped gape for his cleavage to show through. A black dragon coiled around the hem, hugging his thighs and two bright green faux jade earrings hung from his earlobes. Carefully, he sat and applied a thick layer of makeup to cover up the crows feet and laugh lines, smoothing deep red across his lips and doing his best to follow a tutorial on smokey eyes. It was a bit hit or miss, he looked more tired than smokey but it was the best he could do.

A knock at the door told him Lan was ready to go and he took a deep breath before opening it. Lan was dressed similarly to his first outfit and she looked up and down thoughtfully.

“Interesting look. Sure to get some attention! Let’s go.”

Derek had so many things he wished he could ask; how long did they normally work? Why did they do it in the first place? How long had Huong been a prostitute? But he couldn't ask any of them without earning him more suspicion. According to the passport he’d found, he was here as a resident on a work visa, so at the very least he knew he wasn't here illegally. Though there was no way he got a proper work visa if he wrote down prostitute as his occupation. He must have had another job at some point, surely?

As they approached the corner the sun just dipping behind the horizon, leaving the sky brilliant purple. His heart began to beat faster as Lan took up position beneath the street light. He had no idea what to do to make himself seem more appealing, he wasn't even sure he wanted that in the first place!

It didn’t take long for a car to pull up and roll down its window. Lan approached like a pro, haggling prices in thickly accented English before giving her a little wave and hopping into the vehicle. In a roar of engine and spin of tires, she was gone. Derek was alone.

Time passed and other cars slowed but never stopped. One glance in the reflective window nearby told him why. He looked downright thunderous in appearance, hardly the sexy, willing toy men were on the lookout for. Lan returned and then went again, and again. Each time Derek didn’t know how to feel, relieved that he wasn’t being fucked or worried about his empty purse.

“Still nothing?” Lan sighed as she returned for the fourth time, “What’s wrong with you Huong, you look miserable. You know guys don't want that. No matter how sad you are on the inside you need to look happy. Please them, that’s how you earn good money here.”

“But why?” He complained, “Why do we have to do this? Lan can't we get proper jobs?”

“And earn half as much for twice as many hours and be spat on by snooty westerners for not cleaning their floors right?” Lan pulled a face, “Forget it. Unless you speak English, labour is all we have and at least this labour has the chance to be quick and or fun.”

Derek remembered the condescending smile on Missy’s face as she handed him her laundry. There was a level of expectation there; what other purpose could a middle aged Asian woman with no English be doing but cleaning? His blood boiled in anger at his friend but also himself; he no doubt would have acted exactly the same way if he had been in Missy’s shoes.

Lan was picked up again and Derek felt a sense of determination fill him. Standing here all night waiting for money to fall into his lap would get him nowhere. It was time to grit his teeth and just…get it over with.

He took a deep breath and put on his best smile, standing under the light in the most casual yet suggestive pose he could manage. Each time a car approached he bent down to fiddle with the straps of his heels until finally one stopped. Heart thundering in his chest he approached and leaned down as the window rolled to reveal a shockingly put together man in a business suit.

“How much?” He asked in English, it took Derek a second but he understood.

“A hundred.” He said with more confidence that he felt the man scoffed.

“For a corner whore? You’re dreaming.” Derek only understood a little but he pretended the reaction didn't bother him.

“You lose. Next.” He said trying hard to look bored, as if he wasn't asking an exorbitant cost.

He watched as the man’s eyes looked him up and down once more.

“Fine. A hundred.”

Derek did his best to hide his nervous swallow and opened the car door.

~

The drive to the charge by the hour motel down the street only took a minute, yet it felt like an age to Derek. He could not believe he was doing this. They parked and his companion, Charlie according to his drivers licence, paid for an hour. Each step they took toward the room felt monumental, like they were happening in slow motion. He couldn’t make out any sounds save the deafening click of his heels against the concrete and the metal twist of the key in the lock as Charlie opened the door.

Derek wasn't sure which was trashier, his apartment or this hotel room. Though the hotel room had the audacity to be bigger which he felt almost insulted by.

“Right then,” Charlie grinned, “Time for you to show me you’re worth a hundred dollars.”

Fuck.

It was fine, this was just an act right? All he had to do was…play pretend. He was a guy deep down, he knew what men wanted in the bedroom, or at least he knew what he liked. All he had to do was act like the women in the porno’s he enjoyed and everything would be fine. Hopefully he could be sexy enough that Charlie could cum quickly and the actual sex wouldn't last too long. He turned to face Charlie with what he hoped was a look of sultry sophistication.

“How want me?” He asked as best he could in his broken English, “Tit job? Hand job?”

He was glad for the make up on his cheeks hiding his blush; how degrading was it that those words were some of the few he knew in English now? He pushed up his tits to show them off and watched as Charlie’s pupils dilated; he was doing something right then.

“On your knees.” He said firmly, “Tit job.”

Derek swore he could feel his dignity slowly slipping away as he sunk to the floor and slowly removed his dress and bra while Charlie looked on hungrily. He said something too quietly for Derek to fully understand but he was sure it had something to do with not enough Asian women having big tits; it took all of his self control not to punch this smug man right in the jaw.

He sauntered over to where Derek was kneeling as if he were the hottest shit in the world and Derek held back a huff of laughter. Look at this asshat, acting as if it wasn't pathetic he had to pay for his women rather than earning them at all. Derek was just glad he didn't ask for a blowjob, he wasn't sure he could resist biting the dude's dick if he had.

Charlie pulled out his member, already hard and ready. Derek bit the inside of his cheek; he hated to admit it, but Charlie was big, bigger than he had ever been. Somehow that just added salt to the wound that was his current situation. He placed his cock between Derek’s heft breasts and he pushed them together, sandwiching the member between his tits.

Swallowing down the very last of his pride, Derek began to massage them, pressing the cock between his breasts as Charlie began to thrust. The humiliation was unbearable but even worse; it felt good. He didn’t want to enjoy this! But as Charlie groaned and rubbed his cock between his two soft tits Derek couldn’t help but do the same. The skin there was so sensitive he swore he could feel every last inch of the hot member between his tits and he found himself pressing his palms against the sides of his breasts even harder to be able to feel it more. A small amount of slickness began to form between the skin as precum dribbled down from Charlie’s tip and into his cleavage, making them move together with even less friction.

Derek looked down, watching more precum drip from the tip. It was pointing right at him; any second now Charlie was going to cum and it was going to go all over his face.

Why the hell did he want that?

His insides were starting to ache slightly, a warm feeling bloomed between his legs and to his eternal shame I could feel wetness soaking through to his panties. It wasn’t his fault! Anybody would get turned on having their tits pleasured like this with a moan moaning so close by! At least that’s what he kept telling himself. He was so caught up in his own head he barely had a moment to prepare before Charlie was groaning and a moment later hot cum splattered across Derek’s chin and tits. He shivered; hating how much he enjoyed it. At least it was over now. He stood, reaching for his dress only to freeze as Charlie grabbed his wrist.

“Hey now, I haven't had my money’s worth yet.”

That warmth between his legs grew and Derek swallowed again. He told himself it was money; money was why he laid down on the bed and let Charlie slip his panties off; money, not because of the want that was steadily growing. He’d never experienced anything like this heat before, it seemed to emulate from inside him. Almost like a hunger, a need to be filled but instead of his stomach demanding food, his body was demanding cock.

A strange form of desire began to grow inside him as Charlie crawled up his body and pinned his hands beside his head. He’d never been on the bottom before; there was something about a strong man pinning him down, still half dressed that lit a fire inside him. He didn't want it too; in fact he wished he was recoiling in disgust right now like he expected he would. Instead he was breathing heavily, feeling the breasts rise and fall as Charlie’s cock got hard again next to his thigh.

The man was laying kissing into the hollow of his throat, mumbling words he didn't understand and didn't care to. He let his eyes flutter closed so he could just enjoy the sensations. Like Lan said, this job could sometimes be fun and after the day he’d suffered through he deserves to have a little treat.

He moaned and whimpered, more than he felt just to make Charlie feel like the big man he clearly imagined himself as and soon he was rock hard once more and pressing his tip to Derek’s hole. There was a slight burn as his muscles stretched and Charlie pushed inside. It felt so different to what he was used to as a man. He was used to being squeezed, being buried in wet warm heat, now he was that heat and it was glorious. He tightened around the length as Charlie sheathed himself fully and he felt the cock twitch inside him. It felt so…intimate. So primal, to be filled this way and Derek found he liked it. He wanted more.

Acting on some instinct he couldn't describe he reached up to hold Charlie’s shoulders, ground himself on the taut, solid muscles there and pulled him forwards to roll their hips together. He kept himself tight, squeezing the thick cock inside him and watching as Charlie shuddered in response. Derek could feel the tip of his cock brushing against the deepest part of himself and it elicited a primal form of gratification and pleasure he’d never experienced before. As Charlie began to thrust harder he began to slam into the back of his pussy and the ecstasy exploded within him. Turns out he needn’t have worried about forcing himself to moan and act as if he was enjoying himself.

“Ah, ohhhh….ooohhhh I d-don’t know how l-long i can keep going! So tight!” Charlie groaned.

Derek found himself in the shocking and embarrassing position of wanting to beg him to keep going. He could feel something building inside; each thrust felt better than the last and fed into that need growing stronger every second. He opened his mouth and a wail escaped as his pussy began to pulse and pleasure washed over his entire being.

A moment later Charlie groaned and came as well, watching him unlock something else primal inside Derek and before he could think he was leaning forward to pull Charlie as close as possible to ride out their orgasms together. The pleasure surged and finally faded, leaving them an exhausted pile of limbs.

Derek was in awe; he had just had sex for money…and liked it. The orgasm was so strong he felt almost light headed as Charlie withdrew and began to get dressed. Tossing him two fifties with a grin.

“Well worth the money.”

Derek picked up the money and tried not to feel dirty as he put his clothing back on. A glance at the cheap hotel alarm clock told him it was only ten o’clock; the night was still young and he had to earn more than a hundred dollars if he was going to survive. It was time to get back to work.

~

Derek woke up and rolled over groggily, opening his eyes and finding a curtain of black hair blocking his eyes. He sighed; another day as Huong. Every night he went to bed secretly hoping to wake up as himself again, passed out on the floor of Missy’s party after having too much to drink. Too much time was passing for this to be a drunken hallucination though; he’d fallen into routine as Huong, working night and sleeping during the day while frugally spending his money.

Shopping at the Asian groceries was cheaper and easier than walking all the way out of Chinatown and he was slowly developing a taste, even a preference for Asian food. Especially Vietnamese food. He never realised how versatile noodles and soup could be. Not only that but there were a variety of dishes he’d never even heard of. He’d started swapping recipes with the local women, finding it was a nice way to meet people and fill the void that had been left by his rather large social circle as Derek.

With a groan he sat up and stretched, slipping out of bed and grabbing another lychee before boiling the jug for coffee. He’d been floating semi aimlessly through this new life. He had dug through the little apartment with a fine tooth comb to try and figure out as much information about his new life as possible.

From what he had been able to piece together he was a legal immigrant from Hanoi. The company he'd originally come here to work for had massive layoffs and as a result, he was now working as a prostitute. Work he had steadily gotten used to, and could even enjoy. Having sex as a woman was, loath as he was to admit it, great and he really enjoyed it. Far more than he had as a man, which was saying something. Still; he couldn’t just stay this way but finding Missy’s aunt was proving difficult. Mostly because of his limited English; even if he did speak English though, what was he going to do? Go up to Missy and ask where her aunt lives, as a total stranger? He’d be lucky if she didn't call the police.

He opened the cupboard and sighed; out of coffee. Of course. He quickly dressed and headed down to the shop, breathing in the scent of his new home with a soft smile. His apartment may have been small and crappy but there was something welcoming about that scent of noodles and spice in the air, especially in the morning when all the small food carts were in full swing preparing breakfast for all the pedestrians.

As he walked something caught his eye; a poster. It was written in Vietnamese, Chinese and Korean, presumably advertising the same thing; English classes. The idea of willingly having to take classes again made him grimace; he hated school. The only good thing about being Huong, besides the food, the awesome rack and the fun nights, was the fact that he didn't need to study anymore.

He chuckled at the thoughts; perhaps being a woman wasn't so bad, though he did miss being young. There were little tags at the bottom designed to be torn off, with the date and time of the classes to be held at the little community centre down the road. With some trepidation he ripped one off and popped it in his pocket.

If there was one thing he’d learned these last few weeks, it was that nothing was going to get better unless he drank a cup of concrete and hardened up. Hard as it was likely to be, he was going to have to learn English again.

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