First Moves

The next day, Lois woke late, Bill having already left for work. She couldn't figure out, at first, why she was on the couch, then the memories of the previous afternoon's activities came flooding back. With them came a mild hunger, the first she'd felt since she got sick. She was also, to her great shame, mildly aroused by the memory. To her great pleasure, the fever had broken. Unfortunatly, that was the only pleasurable thing that morning. No amount of snacking satisfied her hunger, and a midday masturbation session didn't relieve the arousal. She couldn't even come. Turning to her last bastion, she tried prayer. By eleven, nothing had worked when it finally dawned on her. She needed to fuck Carl. That would solve all of her problems. She didn't know why, and she didn't know how she knew. But she knew, without a doubt, that dressing like a cheapm whore and fucking the slimeball would solve all of her problems.

Pre-Change Lois would never have thought that, but she wasn't Pre-Change Lois anymore. She just hadn't realized it yet. Fie days before, she started to change and, for the first time, this was the new, Changed Lois.

Convinced of her course of action, Lois attacked her daughter's closet. She could get most of the clothes she needed there. Her daughter thought she'd hidden the slut gear well, but Lois knew better. She knew about the little cubby, and it was the first place she hit.

Several minutes later, she had the bottom half of an outfit laid out on the guest room bed. Hooker heels, a spandex micro-skirt, a black g-string, and fishnet hose with a few tears. Perfect for the spent whore look from the dream. She didn't bother checking sizes, confident that it would fit, despite the age and weight difference. Her daughter was younger, shorter, and slim while she was older softer, and, if not tall, on the tall end of average. But she knew she needed more. And, to her shame, she knew where she needed to go. But first, a stop that would be, lightly, less shameful. Putting on a sweatshirt and a pair of yoga pants, Lois grabbed her purse, slipped on tennis shoes, and headed out the door, failing to notice that she had been naked all morning and, when dressed, underwear had been omitted.

Her first stop was the **** store. She needed a bleach kit for her hair, some condoms, and lube. As she was checking out, she saw the cigarettes behind the counter, and it triggered something. She pointed to the box her instincts told her to get and added a lighter to the pile of her purchases. Equipped with her props, she had to finally face the shame. She knew what she needed, and she knew where to get it. Swallowing her fears, she drove to the adult 'toy' store she and Bill had visited once to get a 'video' to experiment with in the bedroom. Like his anal suggestion, that had gone nowhere, and it was back to vanilla sex. But she knew what she needed and hit the store hard. Twenty minutes later and she was on her way home, a fishnet top, a shelf bra, two black heart-shaped pasties, and a temporary tattoo kit. She wasn't going to get real tattoos or piercings, though the thought did arouse her, so the kit and the pasties would have to do.

At home, she started with her hair. Following the instructions, and letting it cook. While waiting, she also prepped her nails for paint. When it came time to rinse her hair, she also shaved her legs, armpits and, for the first time in her life, her groin. She'd seen completely clean women in her son's magazine, but she instead oped to leave a strip three inches long and an inch and a half wide pointing down to her vagina. Or rather, her fuck-hole. Her money-maker. She'd have to get used to calling it something less sterile. Carl was expecting a whore. Not some prude with a stick up her ass. As she thought about the lewd words, the more correct they felt.

The next step in her hooker make-over was application of the fake tattoos. She was pleased to see that, while they went on shiny, like the novelty ones her kids had gotten out of cereal boxes and the like, these rapidly faded to look like they had been inked years prior. They weren't exactly what dream-hooker Lois had, but they were close enough. Feeling inspired, she got out silver nail polish and applied dots there the studs of her various piercings had been. It wasn't perfect, but it got the idea across. Even the dots down by her bitty clitty.

She then did her nails, applied the pasties, and got dressed. The only change she made to the clothes as to cut the crotch of the hose to all easy access to her punter. She opted for big hair and teased it out then applied more makeup than she had likely every worn in her life prior to that day.

Looking at her reflection in the mirror, she opened the pack of cigarettes and lit one, expertly taking a long drag, despite never having smoked in her life. Ashing the smoke, she noticed the ring her ruby red lipstick had left at the filter and moved into the guest room with the novelty ashtray she'd purchased at the sex shop. The mirror there gave her a full body view of the slut she'd turned herself into. She should even see up her skirt to her swollen pussy, trying to break free of the g-string. She never considered why her daughter's clothes fit her or why the cheap whore-clothes she had gotten at the porn store seemed perfectly fitter for her. She just knew she looked like a cheap cunt out to make a buck by getting fucked. With her free hand, she slid the panties to the side and started masturbating while smoking.

She'd be damned if it wasn't the hottest thing she'd ever seen and it didn't take long for her to finally reach the completion that she'd been trying for all morning. But it wasn't enough. She knew she needed to go over there and fucking eat Carl. Snubbing out the butt, she adjusted her panties, inspected her makeup in the mirror, then with a nod, grabbed her purse and went out the backdoor, through the backyard, and around, into Carl's back yard. Approaching his house, she mentally prepared herself. Pre-Change Lois would never have done this. But she wasn't pre-change Lois. She wasn't sure who, or what she was. But she was starting to realize that something had changed.

She wasn't sure how, but she knew Carl was home. So she confidently knocked on his door and waited, lighting another cigarette.

She didn't have long to wait. A shouted, "I'm coming," could be heard, and then, shortly, the door opened revealing a shocked Carl.

"Lois?"