Strange Little Suitcase

The sun cast bright rays down onto the earth, lighting up the backyard of a large country house, where a girl was slowly walking along a path drowning in greenery — a girl whose appearance wouldn’t leave a single soul indifferent. And she knew it. Knew it all too well — and hated it deep inside, hated it without the faintest clue how to undo it. At least get her dick back…

Fourteen days ago, she had still been Trevor Decker — a cunning little suck-up in Romero’s crew, playing big only because he sometimes managed to get into offices where Greg Blake himself, the godfather of the western sector, did business. Trevor dreamed of climbing higher, thought the doors would open for him, kissed ass to anyone above him — and in the end, a completely different kind of door opened…

His last “job” had been to deliver a strange case to a neighborhood run by the Mexicans. Nothing special, sure. That’s what Trevor thought too — right up until that Case suddenly started glowing, and the next thing he knew, he blacked out. When he woke up, he was in a bedroom, lying on Romero’s chest, alongside two other bimbos just like him.

Now her name was Trixie.

She wore a tight pink dress with thin straps, barely clinging to her outrageously feminine curves. The soft rustle of fabric brushed against her thighs, the weight of her tits dragged down the flimsy straps, and every single movement reminded her of what she had become — or rather, what they had made her into.

— Trixie! — a man’s voice called from the terrace. — Get over here, baby.

She flinched. Not from fear. More from that strange, already half-familiar sense of humiliation that was starting to blend with arousal. The voice belonged to one of Trevor’s old lackeys. In this new reality, that “lackey” was her lover — and fuck, he called her like he was calling a dog. No respect, no hint of who she used to be. As if Trevor Decker had never existed — that scheming bastard with the filthy mouth and even filthier plans. All that was left was Trixie — tits, hips, and the eternal: “Yes, daddy…”

She slowly made her way toward the terrace, her heels wobbling a little — she still hadn’t figured out how to walk properly in them. The air was hot, her breasts were damp under the sun and bounced heavily with each step. She stopped, clutching the fabric of her dress under her boobs and froze, staring ahead with a silent, pleading look, wishing she could vanish, fall through the ground, anything — knowing exactly what was coming. Her jaw clenched. Her lips were painted like a whore’s. And fuck, her nipples were so damn sensitive she remembered again about the cursed piercings in them.

— Move your ass, bitch! — the voice shouted again. Same voice, same Jet — Trevor’s former underling, now… the guy who called her “his girl” in this fucked-up reality. The bastard didn’t remember a thing about the past. None of them did. Only she remembered. And that made everything a hundred times worse.

Trixie sighed and walked on, her hips swaying in a way that pissed her off, her tits almost spilling out of the neckline. By the time she got closer, Jet was already lounging in a chair with a beer in hand and that smug-ass grin on his face.

— Well, finally, baby. Looks like your brains really did slide down into your tits if it took you that long to get here, — he snapped his fingers lazily. — Sit on my lap. And smile, you're our sexy little doll, not some drunken congressman on a bender.

She didn’t move. Her heart was pounding. Somewhere deep inside, Trevor was still growling, demanding she spit in his face. But instead, her legs moved on their own — and the next thing she knew, she was lowering herself onto his lap, feeling his hot hand slide along her thigh.

— Jet… — her voice came out higher than she wanted, with a hint of a whine, like she was complaining, — I want to talk to Greg. I need to… I need to ask him something. It’s really… important...

He snorted.

— You’re just overheated, baby. Chill. The boss’ll fuck you when he feels like it. Or are you so worked up from me that you’re desperate to hop on someone’s cock?

His hand slid under her dress, and Trixie sucked in a shaky breath. No, she didn’t want it. And at the same time, her body reacted like it did — like this was everything she’d ever dreamed of — to be some wet teenage fantasy, a bitch who moans from the slightest touch. Her body had been trained, reshaped, rebuilt to serve. To always be ready.

— N-no, Jet. That’s not it. I’m serious. I need to find a way…

— Hey, hey, hey. — He suddenly grabbed her chin and turned her face toward him. — Listen up, doll. Enough of that bullshit about suitcases, other realities, and all that crap. You’re Trixie. You’re my bitch. You’re a toy. And the only thing you need to worry about is looking pretty and not asking dumb fucking questions. Oh, and sucking dick on schedule. Speaking of which — how about now?

Trixie sighed, slowly lowering her gaze toward Jet’s crotch, partially hidden by the ridiculous size of her tits. She blinked, then lightly licked her lips. Not from desire. Not even from the heat. It was like her body was on autopilot. Just like the warm wave that started in her already slightly damp panties and spread through her whole body.

She closed her eyes for a moment, and then — suddenly — a realization hit her soft, dolled-up face. The realization that any hope of bringing it all back, of fixing what had happened, wasn’t just slipping away anymore — it was completely gone. Her best option now was to accept it. To accept she had to forget about her plans and those grand ideas of a career in the crime syndicate. Forget being respected. Forget being feared by men.

No. All she had now was this body — this awkward, clumsy body with huge tits that got in the way of everything.

And even that was hanging by a thread. She had to embrace it, had to learn to live like a bitch who craves sex, who wants to look hot, who exists to please every member of her former crew without asking questions — because otherwise… otherwise, she could end up in a place much, much worse.

She knew it. Knew it for sure.