Morning after/ build an empire

Chapter 11: The Morning After

I woke up with a pounding hangover, my skull throbbing in time with my heartbeat. Danielle’s body felt used and gross — heavy tits sore, thighs sticky, mouth tasting like cigarettes and regret. I groaned in her husky voice and pushed myself up, my massive breasts swaying heavily as I sat on the edge of the messy bed.

The suite was still full of people. Several of Carlos’s buddies and the swapped white women were lounging around — some smoking, some half-dressed, the party clearly still simmering from last night. Kellie’s real body was passed out face-down on the other bed, completely naked except for the red dress bunched around her waist. A thick, realistic dildo was still shoved deep inside her pussy, her swollen lips gripping the base. She was snoring softly, completely oblivious.

But something was wrong.

Kellie — the real one, trapped in Javier’s stocky male body — was nowhere in sight.

Before I could panic, the sliding door to the patio opened. Carlos stepped inside wearing Terry’s late-50s Canadian body, dressed in nothing but a skimpy red bikini that barely contained her soft, heavy tits and wide hips. A cigarette hung from his lips as he exhaled a long plume of smoke, looking every bit like a sleazy, dominant MILF boss.

“Morning, Danielle,” he said cheerfully in Terry’s sweet voice, using my new name like it was permanent. “You look well-fucked.”

“Where’s Kellie?” I demanded, my voice still coming out vulgar and masculine in Danielle’s sultry tone. “What did you do with her?”

Carlos smiled and took another drag, then casually squeezed one of my heavy tits like he owned it. “She’s safe. Hidden. Tied up nice and tight in a different room where no one will find her. I figured it would be smarter this way.” He leaned in closer, blowing smoke gently across my face. “As long as you do what I say, your wife stays safe and untouched… mostly. You misbehave? Well… I have plenty of my boys who would love to play with a tied-up man in a woman’s body. Or worse.”

My stomach dropped. I was trapped. In this hyper-sexual body. With no idea where Kellie was being held.

Carlos gestured lazily toward Kellie’s passed-out body on the bed with the dildo still buried inside her. “Her skin is very useful. Pretty American wife look. Perfect for my new operation. My boys in white women bodies are going to make excellent smugglers back to the States. No one profiles a nice Canadian mom or pretty tourist.”

He ran his hands down Terry’s bikini-clad curves possessively. “And this body? I like being the queen. Respectable on the outside… filthy when I want.”

Two of the swapped girls — former tourists now controlled by Carlos’s buddies — walked over and started playing with Kellie’s **** body, one of them slowly pumping the dildo in and out, making her snore turn into soft, **** moans.

I felt helpless, my borrowed pussy treacherously throbbing at the perverse sight despite the hangover.

Carlos smiled at me, smoke curling from his lips. “So here’s how it works from now on, chica. You behave. You keep the girls happy. You do what I tell you. And maybe — just maybe — you get your wife back one day. Understand?”

I swallowed hard, nodding slowly. My hands unconsciously moved up to cup my own sore tits as the nicotine craving started kicking in again.

This wasn’t just a bad morning anymore.

Carlos had me right where he wanted me.

To be continued in Chapter 12