Sequel Hook?

“God, poor Megan,” Jake said as he watched the mayhem of her transformation on his TV screen.

“Are you kidding?” Leah asked, taking a swallow of beer. “That was bloody brilliant!”

Was it his imagination, or were her cheeks getting rosier? She seemed to be having a good time, and her energy was infectious in spite of what was happening on screen.

“Well, I’m sure the audience will like it, but Megan’s probably mortified. I should try to go see her…”

She regarded him for a moment, then shrugged.

“You’ve got a point,” She said. “But give it a while. I suspect she’s retreated to her room by now, and what she probably wants more than anything is to be alone for a bit.”

Jake considered that, then nodded. That did sound like his sister.

“What you need,” Leah continued, “Is to lighten up. Enjoy yourself a little. Your girls certainly are.”

Jake frowned.

“They’re not ‘my’ girls, Leah,” He said. “And most of them are either mad or scared shitless by all this.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” She said. There was a twinkle in her eye. “Hannah and Emily are slipping into their roles. Lindsey certainly seems to be enjoying herself.”

“Lindsey’s a crazy person, she hardly counts.”

“Farra isn’t, though. And she seems quite taken with her transformation. Julie too. Even Megan might be mortified, but she’s coming out of her shell a bit,” Leah said.

She turned to him, now sitting on her knees.

“Has it crossed your mind that this may actually prove to be a positive experience?” She asked. “That it might help some of these women to grow, or experience things they’ve always wanted to?”

Jake couldn’t think of anything to say to that, apart from moral grandstanding that seemed hollow even to him. What they were doing was wrong, but that there could be upsides for the Farras, Julies and even Megans of the competition wasn’t something he’d stopped to consider.

“I still think this is wrong,” He said. “But I guess there could be some positives.”

She sat back, which was an enormous relief. Those dark, intense eyes of hers were all too easy to get lost in.

“It’s up to you, really,” She said, casually. “You have a lot of control over the experience these girls have.”

“Is that a threat?” He asked. “That if I don’t sleep with them, they’ll…I dunno, get turned into porn stars or something?”

Leah shook her head.

“It’s an observation, love. Treat them well, and they’ll have fun. Support them, and they’ll be happier. That’s all I meant.”

“Fuck,” Jake murmured. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be so accusing. I’m just on edge, that’s all.”

She placed a hand on his thigh, her eyes turning up to him again.

“That’s what I’m talking about. Relax! Have a little fun.”

The TV flickered again, this time to the shapely figure of Loretta strode down a narrow, but decorative hallway.

“Oooh! I’ve been excited for this one!” Leah said, grabbing his arm.

She grabbed a slice of pizza and drew in excitedly, leaning on his arm like they were a couple at a movie theater. He knew he should push her away, but he enjoyed the contact more than he cared to admit.

Relaxing, he decided, was pretty good advice.

*****

Loretta was not relaxed, though she doubted anyone looking would have known that. Her back straight and head up, she walked with all the poise and purpose she usually did. No retinue of her husband’s guards, this time, however. Most of them probably didn’t know she existed.

That, more than anything, was the source of her anxiety as she approached her old townhouse in a fetching designer dress. Hunter had bought it for her by way of saying “I’m sorry I’ve been having an affair with my 6th Congressional district colleague for the last 6 months instead of attending budget meetings like I said I was. Have something pretty so you don’t tell reporters about it.”

It was pretty, too; a strappy summer dress that cut low to show off her breasts, cinched tight around her trim waist and hugged her hips and legs so that their form and length were undeniable. Sexy, but casual enough that she could wear it in informal settings without looking like a prostitute. That was important if she were to pull this off.

She climbed her steps and buzzed the door. Predictably, their doorman Stanley approached. Stanley was a marvel; a 6’5, black slab of a man who was part doorguard, part chef and all loyalty. Too loyal to ever take a **** romp in the sheets with her, sadly, though the thought of asking him anyway had certainly crossed her mind.

“Can I help you, Ma’am?” He asked in a deep, silky voice. God, why was she this horny all of a sudden? “This is a private residence.”

“I know. I’m here to see Big H,” She said, employing his ridiculous nickname for himself.

Stanley nodded at that, nonplussed. She wondered if he always treated Hunter’s little secrets so casually. It seemed unlikely, considering all he’d told her about them.

“Mr. Lane is occupied with one of his staffers at the moment,” Stanley said. “Do you have a message for him?”

“Is it Miranda?” Loretta asked, barely keeping the excitement out of her voice. If she caught Miranda here as well, it was basically two birds with one stone. “I think she’ll want to see me too. Just tell them it’s Loretta.”

Stanley gave her a skeptical look, but nodded after a while. Maybe it was Miranda’s name drop that convinced her. One of his affairs wouldn’t know about her unless she’d become a source of damage control.

Stanley disappeared inside, leaving Loretta standing at the front stoop of her own home. That’s when she began to notice things she’d missed in her preoccupation with getting inside. Like how the plants she’d decorated the place with and tended to were missing from the windows, or that the Mercedes she drove was no longer in the driveway.

Stanley returned before her mind could spin off on what the various implications of that might be; much faster, indeed than she would have thought possible. And the big man’s face was more expressive now, as well. Not much more. A master poker face was their body man’s. But she thought she saw…what? Puzzlement? Intrigue? A certain new appreciation for her body? She wasn’t sure.

“You can head on in,” He said, opening the door for her. “Don’t know who you are, but you sure have their attention.”

She giggled, immediately hating it, and strolled in past him.

“Thanks, handsome!”

She barely made it to the parlor when Miranda ambushed her.

“Well, hey there,” Loretta began to say before the woman wrapped her arms around her and pulled her into an embrace.

“Oh thank fuck!” She said, displaying her typical reverence for polite language, “I was really, really fucking worried about you.”

She pulled back.

“Are you alright? Have they fucked with your head a bunch?”

“I’m fine Miranda,” Loretta said, composing herself.

That Miranda had come out to greet her before Hunter did was as typical as it was irritating. But it was also convenient. Loretta would need her cooperation for what she planned next. Here she could deal with one without hurting the other.

“So, I’m guessing the emergency contact thing wasn’t a bluff,” She said. “Hunter knows about me, too then?”

“Yeah. I guess. Like he knows he was married or whatever and he remembers you,” Miranda said. “This is so fucked up, Lori. We’ve got some George Bailey shit going on up in here.”

“I need to show you something,” Loretta said.

Lorette reached into her purse.

“I need to show you something.”

Miranda’s eyes followed her hand, and thus noticed when Loretta drew the silvery little pistol from her bag. Her eyes went wide.

“What the fu-” She managed before time slowed too much for her words to remain comprehensible.

She willed that Miranda would roll with the punches that were about to come; that she’d take everything that was about to happen in stride, accept it without any emotional stress, and that she’d support her and any surrogates of her with unflinching loyalty and obedience. She imagined her with enhanced intelligence, cunning and charisma, along with an encyclopedic understanding of the actual policy work Miranda usually took for granted. Finally, just to earn a few spare points with the audience, she enhanced the chief of staff physically; pumped her breasts into full, perky teardrops, gave her the face of a supermodel with full lips and grew her hair out into shoulder length, silky smooth waves that would stay beautiful no matter how many corners her busy schedule **** her to cut. She gave her long, sensual legs that would rival Loretta’s own, and a butt that would adjust itself to the tastes of those around her.

The gun fired, and Loretta was instantly glad she’d opted for a few physical changes to to match the all important mental ones. It allowed her to see the gun working in real time. As the changes subsided, Miranda looked down at herself.

“Fuckin A, Lori…” She mused, checking herself out. She hefted her breasts and then her ass, unsurprisingly showing no discomfort in this self exploration in front of Loretta. “You couldn’t do more back here, though?”

Loretta gave another impulsive giggle.

“Go see Congressman Harken,” She said. “You’ll get plenty more junk in that trunk real quick.”

Loretta gave Miranda’s ass a playful pat and then headed on into her soon-to-be former husband’s study as she followed along behind.

Hunter was nervously pacing his desk. He was mostly as Loretta remembered him, but after 10 years of marriage, even the slight differences were noticeable. He was still tall, and still handsome; 6 foot 3 with full dark hair that was both combed back and parted in 50s approved fashion. But there was a touch of white penetrating the coal black just at his ears. He was paunchier, too, which didn’t fully surprise her. With Loretta around to stop him, she wouldn’t have been surprised if he drank and partied a good deal more, or that he spent less time at the gym without her insistence. He wore an immaculate charcoal suit with a flag lapel pin.

“Lori! Oh, praise god. I’m glad you’re okay,” He said, strolling to her. His hug was much more restrained than her chief of staff’s, and she could tell he was worried.

Worried for himself, maybe she thought. Of me, not for me.

She let out one of her irritating little giggles.

“I’m doing fine, Hunter,” She said. “Almost just like you left me.”

“When we got that letter about where you were, they said a bunch of things about changing you. Turning you into something else,” He said in his thick drawl. “You just kinda look like you, to me.”

“Well, I’m a bit gigglier now,” She said. “They made me really bubbly and cheerful, least on the outside.”

She giggled again, as if by way of demonstrating.

“Still the same old me where it counts, though,” She said, tapping her temple.

“So…is the game over? This show or whatever it is?” He asked. “Are you coming home?”

He didn’t exactly seem overjoyed at the prospect. Unsurprising.

“Nah, we’re barely getting started. It’s gonna be a long time before I’m home, I think.” She said cheerily, and watched the son of a bitch visibly relax.

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that,” He said. “What kinda…stuff do you think they’re gonna…I mean…”

“How are they changing me? Allegedly they’re making me some sort of cheerleader. All friendly and supportive like,” Loretta said.

“Oh, well…that doesn’t sound too bad,” He said. And now in his eyes she thought she saw a spark of excitement.

Oh well. Nothing she’d have to worry about for long.

“And what’s it been like here for you?” Loretta asked with a smile. “Still seems like you’re living your old life, just without a wife.”

Hunter stiffened slightly.

“Well it’s…yeah it’s pretty much like that. I think about you all the time…”

“Fondly, I’m sure. Like how nice it must be to chase every tail in the District without any fear of your wife catching you?” Loretta said, raising a hand as he opened his mouth in protest. “Nah, don’t bother denying it. You ain’t gone and changed just because I’m on the weirdest vacation in history.”

“Lorretta, it ain’t like that!” He said.

“The shit it’s not!” Miranda said, barking a laugh. “You’re the hottest bachelor in DC. He’s actually fucking around even more now that nobody cares.”

Loretta raised an eyebrow but smiled winningly.

“Wow! I’ll bet you’re just a pig in shit,” She said, and even her bubbly new demeanor couldn’t keep the ice out of her voice.

He at least had the grace to look abashed. He cast his eyes down in whatever passed for shame in that sledgehammer he called a skull.

“You don’t have to put it quite like that…”

“And how else should I put it?” Loretta asked. “Don’t bother answering that, hon. I don’t actually give a shit on account of it won’t be my problem for long.”

She moved to the minibar he kept nestled in the back of the room and poured herself a finger of bourbon.

“Hunter, me and you are finished,” She said. “I never wanted it to come to this, but we’re a long way from the lovestruck kids who got married on that monstrosity your family calls a plantation. In fact, I think it’s pretty safe to say there hasn’t been a lot of love between us in a long time. The way it’s gone is that I prop up your career, while you disrespect me in a new effort to ruin it every month. That’s about the measure of what we are when you get right down to it.”

“And what about you?” He snapped.

The deference and the “awe shucks” apologetic tone had gone out of him in an instant. The burst of anger was so sudden it caught her off guard.

“You gonna sit there and tell me you didn’t marry me for my money? That if I’d been some poor white trash family’s boy we’d still be together?” He asked. “And why wouldn’t I sleep around? You guard that cunt of yours like the whole Laine family fortune’s tucked up inside it.”

Loretta felt her own temper spike, a number of hot replies jumped into her head. She didn’t marry him for money. She probably wouldn’t have done without it, but would he have married her if she hadn’t been beautiful? What was the difference? And he knew damn well she hadn’t started the withholding until he’d started the affairs.

She beat it all back with another giggle. That seemed to knock him off balance, and for once, she was glad she was no longer capable of showing a serious side.

“Look at what a sorry sight the two of us are,” She said. “But it doesn’t really matter who stuck the knife in first. All you need to know is that it’s over now.”

Hunter glowered. When he spoke up again, his voice was petulant and sulky.

“So it’s a divorce, then?” He asked. “Well, the money goes with me. And good luck staying in this town without some elected sugar daddy to keep you tied here.”

“You fucking asshole!” Miranda spat. “You’ve never deserved what she does for you. Shit, the morning she got ****, she was cleaning up after that staffer you fucked!”

Loretta put up a hand, the other sliding into the purse at her waist.

“It’s alright, Miranda. He’s not wrong. That’s why we’re not getting a divorce.”

“We’re not?” Hunter asked, puzzled. “Then what is this about you leaving then?”

Loretta giggled.

“I think it’ll be a little easier to show this one rather than tell it.”

Her hand came up in a flash, and as time slowed again, she thought very very hard about herself. Not Loretta Laine as she was now; the trophy wife of a husband she no longer felt anything for but contempt. But different Loretta Laine.

This Loretta hadn’t married a Laine, but been born one; a gorgeous southern belle who inexplicably looked like her current self despite how out of place that would make her among the Laine clan. She had grown up in wealth and privilege and through those advantages, and her whip smart nature, had made something of herself. She’d followed the same political path as Hunter, making political connections with her beauty and charm rather than backslapping, bourbon soaked backroom dealings. She’d risen to become the first female representative from the district, enjoying a career studded with all the things she’d wish Hunter would have done with his office.

When she pulled the gun up to fire, though, she turned it not on herself, but on her soon-to-be-former husband.

When the pink light cleared around his body, the handsome man had been replaced with a copy of herself, the charcoal men’s suit with a stylish, complimentary, but still professional red dress. The new Loretta, no longer Hunter now even the slightest, stood forward blankly.

“Holy fucking shit!” Miranda said, surprised.

“I was thinking about what I’d do with my turn, when it was you I landed on for inspiration,” Loretta told her. “What was it you said to me the morning I got taken? I wish it was you I worked for instead of him?”

She allowed herself a smug moment of satisfaction.

“Well…I reckon you’re gonna find out what that would have looked like.”

Miranda approached her double, waving a hand in front of its face.

“So Hunter looks like you now?” She asked.

Loretta laughed.

“Like I’d risk my political future with that oaf in my body? No…she doesn’t look like me. She is me. She’ll act like me, think like me and in all ways, be totally indistinguishable from me until I don’t need her anymore.”

“What happens then?” She asked.

“Then I programmed the right to turn her into anything I want later on. Probably just back into Hunter,” She said. “I’ll let him go on being my brother or something without any memory of any of this. But I’m keeping his position in the family, and the career.”

“That’s pretty fucking wild,” Miranda said. “But won’t you be in a harem or whatever by then? Kinda like trading one scandal doomed fuck up for another, isn’t it?”

She had a point there, but not one Loretta hadn’t put some thought into.

“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it, but I got some ideas,” She said. “When I win the contest, I can use the wish to iron a lot of the finer details out, but I think it’ll give me enough power to take care of it.”

“You seem pretty confident.”

Loretta nodded.

“I think I can win this thing. And if I can’t then I’ll have bigger problems to deal with,” She said. “For now let’s say I’m hedging my bets by leaving my new self here to hold down the fort.”

Miranda examined her double, still staring emptily out at the room.

“Is she gonna…wake up or whatever?”

“Soon as I leave, yeah.” Loretta said.

“Not that I’m not cool with all this. It’s a hell of an upgrade from my perspective,” Miranda said. “But isn’t it sorta like you killed Hunter?”

“Oh, Hunter ain’t dead in there,” Loretta said with a smile. “He’s just resting. I even made sure to give him sweet dreams.”

She giggled.

"Well...bittersweet ones, anyway."

*****

Deep in the recesses of the new Loretta’s mind, the old one (or at least an extremely convincing facsimile of her) curled up against him. Her lips made his way up his neck, before nibbling his ear, her creamy pink thigh entwining with his right one. She was naked except for crimson fishnet stockings and garters attaching them to a lacy, barely there pair of panties.

“You want me or her?” Hunter’s wife purred in his ear.

To his left, Alicia Fallwell, the Distinguished Representative from North Carolina’s 6th Congressional District, gave a throaty chuckle. Her deep brown skin was slick with sweat, her curly black and blonde hair framing her stunning face. She had forgone even Loretta’s minimal concessions to clothing.

Hunter stammered, eyes darting between the two women.

“I think he needs a little help,” Alicia said, sitting up.

The two women kissed above him, Loretta’s rosy lips and puffy pink nipples pressing against Alicia’s brown ones as they came together in a glorious display of inter-racial harmony. Hunter felt his cock stiffen beneath them.

He looked across his suite, which hung high on the blue ridge mountains overlooking Lake Norman. That those mountains didn’t surround that lake in the real world was a matter of little consequence to him. What did matter was that every woman he slept with was at this cabin lodge with him in some capacity, from his high school girlfriend Tiffany, to his personal trainer Gabriella, to Molly, his comm staffer to the two women entwined on top of him. There were even a few guests, like Miranda, aging but stately Senator McKinney from California, and even, God forgive him, a youthened version of his mother Anneabell present with whom he’d never had, but always desired the pleasure.

Alicia purred, drawing his attention back to the show being put on for his supposed benefit.

“I want Lori,” He croaked, finally.

“Mmm…you gonna have to wait your turn, white boy,” Alicia said, cupping Loretta’s ass. “I think I just decided I’m not in a sharing mood.”

It was playful enough, but he knew suddenly that he wouldn’t get either of them, at least not right now. No, Hunter realized, he was about to get cuckolded by his own mistress.

Loretta giggled.

“It’s only fair, darling,” She said in between Alica’s increasingly passionate kisses. “I had to watch you fuck around for years while I got to share you.”

Alicia took one of her nipples in her mouth and began to suck on it. Loretta lilted her head back and cried out.

“Now…” She breathed, “You’re just gonna have to watch all of us!”

Alicia shoved her roughly to the bed at his feet, tearing off her panties before burying those luscious brown lips of hers in between Loretta’s tight lower ones. Loretta cupped a breast and cried out in a sort of pleasure he knew she’d never gotten from him.

Hunter’s eyes were wide, his cock hard in spite of the dawning horror of his new situation. None of this was real; on some level he knew that. But until Loretta was ready to bring him back, he was going to be stuck here, surrounded by his sexual fantasies, unable to act on any of it. He would be teased and starved until he was crazy with need.

He groaned and fell back on the bed, masturbating pitifully and unable to take his eyes off the show. This, apparently, was Loretta's ****.