Inescapable Pt. 01 of 02

I watched, enraptured, as he got more and more excited. She teased him for a while with her mouth, and then stood and wrapped a leg around his waist, grinding herself up against him. He picked her up, swung her around, and set her on a bed. In seconds he was inside her, and she was moaning and biting her lip.

He pulled out and shot his load all over her belly. I gasped and climaxed again. It was arresting, almost hypnotic.

Only half-pretending it was experimentation now, I backed up to the top of the video menu and grabbed something at random. No Gerry's Girls here; the woman was skinny, with stringy hair; not my type at all. The guy was fat, and hairy as a gorilla. His cock was squat and thick and one of his balls was bigger than the other.

He was sexy as fuck; I wished he was right here in the room with me. I could do a better job than she was doing. He wasn't even that hard! Instead of just tugging it, she could try stroking the sides as she licked the head. Or maybe I'd find a little oil or lube or even just spit, and let him slide between my tits. I could give his helmet a little tongue-flick on each stroke. My creative juices were flowing as liberally as the ones from my pussy...

Desperately, like I'd fallen off a building and was trying to grab a ledge, I hit the channel-up button. A gray-haired black weatherman genially discussed a storm front approaching Chattanooga. I sat there, panting as I recovered, so close to tears it was frightening.

'Quirk' my ass! My real ass, my male one! He'd warped my whole brain, made me some kind of, of, skank, slut! This wasn't one change, he must have reworked half my mind to make me...

Then I realized something. I wasn't getting horny over the weather announcer.

He was just a guy. The camera switched over to an anchor man and woman. Both good-looking people, of course, but I wasn't any more inclined to appreciate the guy than the lady. Less, even.

I went up another channel. A cooking show. Men and women contestants coming up with meals based on limited ingredients. Again, the guys didn't seize my attention.

Another channel. An action movie. Some guy zapped aliens, blew open a door. I started feeling better. I could control this, I wasn't totally at the mercy of...

He pulled some girl out of a probing table or whatever and they kissed. And suddenly I was interested again. My nipples hardened... and then began to relax. The moment was over, and the couple was fighting their way out.

"Okay, that's enough of that," I said out loud to myself, and turned it off.

I thought carefully. So, it wasn't guys per se that got my motor running. Something more 'elegant' was going on. Summoning all my resolve, I pictured a naked guy, with a limp dick.

There wasn't that instant reaction. Things didn't threaten to get out of hand until I pictured it getting hard. That was like a riptide pulling me out to sea. I tried to shift things, picture some old smelly bum... but he had a hardon, and that was enough.

I realized I didn't care what guys looked like. Ripped, flabby, tall, short, hot, ugly... it just didn't matter. All I cared about was that they had a dick. A dick that could get stiff, and squirt cum...

Feeling my face - among other things - getting flushed, I picked up the remote again. I told myself that I had to check... but I knew I was lying. Just reading the titles in that section made me breathe faster. I wasn't even a bit surprised when it started playing and I moaned out loud.

A white guy sucked a black guy's cock, and I simply stared in a trance, almost drooling. Definitely dripping. I came again, almost instantly. Two horny guys!

I finally understood what was going on, though it didn't help me fight the feelings in the slightest. It was a pretty common thing, really. Gerry had given me a fetish. I now had a specific, intense, involuntary turn-on.

I'd even figured out the precise nature of my new obsession. It was a fetish for male arousal, period. Just the general idea of a man being attracted to someone was so fucking hot...

One of the cheating husbands I'd busted had been a judge. And a deacon at his church. Married, to a pretty wife who loved him and gave him three kids. But it turned out he had a fetish for ladies dressed in rubber. And his wife wasn't down with helping him out that way.

To him it had been worth risking everything he had, plus spending a good chunk of change, to hire an escort to make his dreams come true. The evidence I gathered just ruined him. So far as I know, his visits with his kids are still supervised to this day. At the time, it hadn't bothered me. If I thought about it at all, I figured he deserved it for being so stupid.

Now my eyes were locked on a throbbing dick about to slide into another guy's asshole - and that other guy's prick was stiff, too. And I just couldn't manage to look away. One of them was going to cum any second now, I couldn't miss it! I'd always prided myself on my self-control; my shame and embarrassment were intense and crushing. I suddenly felt a lot more sympathy for that poor judge.

But as the bottom's jism leaked out on the screen, I came again, almost shrieking. Once I caught my breath, I exercised what little free will I had and shut off the TV, and threw the remote across the room. Even though I wanted more, lots more.

-----

The closet held exactly two outfits.

One hanger had a white baby-doll t-shirt, cut down alarmingly. If I wore it, there would be considerable underboob visible, and regular flashes of nipple would be unavoidable. There were shiny blue hotpants, barely larger than the average bikini bottom. I felt positive they'd be tight enough to guarantee camel-toe. And on the floor beneath, spiked blue strapped heels.

Draped on the other hanger were gray sweatpants and a sweatshirt, clearly at least a size too big. Underneath, plain flat sandals.

My first real choice about how to respond to the changes. That hotpants-and-t-shirt combo was ridiculous - but also ridiculously tempting. Guys would stare, and get interested, and want to do all kinds of things to my body. Hot sexy yummy things...

It cost me more than I could have imagined to put on the sweats. They hid my shape, made me look frumpy and unavailable. The sandals wouldn't add any extra sway to my hips. It felt so wrong. Like giving up a Maserati for a rusty Chevelle.

I stepped out the door and looked back and forth down the hall. A different one from Collette's, but the same area. No one visible for the present. Apparently I was in room 204. Hesitantly I stepped forward and knocked on 205.

"Just a sec!" I heard from inside. A few seconds later, the door pulled back to reveal Melissa. She wore heels and panties... and nothing else.

She saw my outfit and rolled her eyes with a little grin. Her posture shifted, no longer angling for maximum display.

"Oh, hey, it's you. C'mon in," she said, friendly enough, as she stepped out of the way. I followed her in. Her front room looked like a young woman's first place after leaving home. Ikea furniture, a few stuffed animals on the bed. A curtain hung in front of the hallway, subtly separating the space, implying maybe a closet or something. It made the suite seem smaller.

The bed was rumpled, though, and frilly underthings lay scattered around. I recognized the lingerie from last night. She saw my gaze and shrugged with a smile. "Yeah, the maids come after lunch for the night girls."

She was opening up the refrigerator. "You hungry? I don't have much here, sorry. Maybe some yogurt?"

"Uh... not right now." I paused, then asked, "What... um, what did Gerry tell you about me?"

She looked at me with a neutral expression. "Well, I know you were the guy I sent Collette after last night. He said you were trying to get this place shut down."

My own expression had gone neutral, too. "I was just investigating. It's what I do."

She shrugged. "He said we should call you Marci."

My jaw clenched. "Did he, now." I took a breath. "What else did he say?"

"I'm supposed to show you the ropes. And show you around," she said, deadpan.

"Hah," I said, mirthlessly but without heat, showing I got the joke. Then I asked, "Does he do this with everyone who inconveniences him?"

"Nah, this is kind of special. You're only, like, the third guy who's, uh... 'joined up'."

"Drafted. Not joined," I bit out.

"Hey, I didn't mean anything."

I made myself settle down. This wasn't her fault. In fact, she was probably just as trapped as I was. "Sorry. It's been kind of a rough morning."

She chuckled once. "I bet." She tried again. "Sure you don't want anything to eat? Even some toast?"

There was no reason to refuse, and I might as well not antagonize her. "Okay, yeah. Got peanut butter?"

"I got strawberry jelly."

After we literally broke bread together, I felt some tension subside. So I decided to risk probing. "You're not as... effervescent as you were last night."

She scoffed and flicked her fingers. "I ain't trying to get in your pants anymore. No offense."

"None taken," I said, shaking my head as if to say, 'who would think it?'

That got a smile. "For my looks," she elaborated, "cheerful, maybe ditzy works best. We each have our own style." A wink. "Collette's sure worked on you."

I couldn't deny it. I opened my hand, as if to say 'Touché'.

She cocked her head to the side, looked me over. "Man, the hair-fetish guys are gonna be all over you. You're gonna knock 'em dead."

I saw in her eyes how she relished the thought. Just like part of me did now, too. It confirmed my deduction - all of Gerry's Girls had the same fetish.

Despite myself, despite my anger, I had to admit Gerry had achieved a measure of the 'elegance' he said he aimed for. What could be more perfect for a place like this? The whole point was to turn men on. And every girl here was passionately devoted to exactly that...

"No thanks," I said, striving to sound determined and not regretful.

"Okay," she said, non-committal.

After a beat, I asked, "How did you get mixed up in all this?"

She nodded, very slowly, and gave me a thoughtful look. "I was hooking in Vegas. I'd just been busted, third strike. And my pimp didn't bail me out. I had to call another girl to pull money from my stash. She got me out... and stole the rest."

"Damn," I said. I'd heard stories like this before. Things can get pretty cutthroat on the fringes of the law.

"Gerry found me sitting in a McDonald's, flat broke, tired, and pissed. And I had the clap again. My junk was on fire. He made me an offer. And proved he could do it by curing me, just like that." She shrugged. "I signed up and now I look like this. I been making good money and having fun every night since."

Well. That was... interesting. Some of the girls weren't forced? At least at first. That meant I might not be able to count on as much help as I'd been expecting.

Hit it from the side. "What do you think now?"

"I never came once before I got here." She looked me dead in the eyes. "My dad and my uncle molested me since I was eight years old. Sex was always something I did to survive. It never felt good." She held my gaze, a challenge. "When I leave, I'm gonna be in a hot body, with money, and I'll be able to be with a guy I love and not hate him for his dick."

I didn't know what to say to that. Except... "Leave?"

She leaned back in her chair, calming down. "Yeah, this ain't a permanent thing. Gerry doesn't try to own us. We get paid good, even a frickin' 401k. One girl left already. Put in a year and now she can have kids. She couldn't before. She brought her baby girl for a visit a couple weeks ago."

Great. Not only could I not expect allies, but Gerry's Girls wouldn't appreciate threats to Gerry's Place. This kept getting better.

-----

We put the dishes away as there came a knock at the door. Melissa let in a pair of maids that started cleaning the room. She turned to me and said, "Ready for, like, 'orientation'?"

"I guess," I replied.

When we got to the door, she put a hand on my shoulder and said, "You sure you don't wanna brush out your hair? Just a little?" The idea was profoundly tempting. After all, the better I looked, the more chance to attract and excite guys. I saw in her eyes that she wanted me to look good too. I grasped why - she wanted guys to be turned on, and it didn't much matter who got them there.

Nevertheless... "No thanks," I said again.

"Ok," she said, with an 'on your head be it' tone.

She led me down the hall, towards the back. I was going to get a guided tour of the areas I'd wanted to investigate last night. Under circumstances I'd never conceived of. We came around a corner and I almost tripped.

A beautiful girl - maybe Caribbean, rich cafe-au-lait skin - led a customer toward her room. She held one of his hands and walked in front just a bit, every few steps sending a smoky glance his way. The guy seemed hypnotized by her; especially her hips as they flowed along in a sexy rhythm.

He was kinda thick and muscled, but short. That didn't seem relevant, though. I was fascinated by his manner, poleaxed with lust by his lust. I only came back to myself once they went in the room and closed the door.

Melissa had a knowing smile. "Never gets old." I don't think she meant it to be as discouraging as it sounded to me.

We rode the elevator down. She explained something of how things worked here. All the chefs and line cooks in back, and the maids and janitors that cleaned up, were female. "A guy working here would never get anything done. Besides girls - he'd get a lot of those done."

I frowned. "Wait, what about the security guys?" I caught myself speculating about how to get one alone. Fuck.

"Oh, don't even bother. Gerry's got a deal with them. So long as they work here, they're asexual."

My eyes must have gotten wide, because she laughed. "No, they still got the equipment! They just got zero urge to use it, that's all." She shrugged. "It keeps us from messing with them, and the other way around."

I couldn't guess what I'd have to be paid to give up my sex drive, even temporarily.

Gerry sometimes had to pay a little more, look a little harder for help, she said. Especially because the women were expected to be discreet and not gossip about what they saw. I'd already run into that when I'd been digging before; it had been frustrating at times.

But discretion has its limits, of course. "We're not supposed to talk about the ring in front of anyone who doesn't know already. That's Gerry's Girls, security, and one or two others, I'll let you know." The elevator door opened.

The basement level had a gym, a salon, a wardrobe department, a couple of conference rooms, and a dance studio. They were clean and well-maintained, more functional than decorative. Melissa glanced at the hair on my head again, then sighed. She led me past the salon to the studio.

Melissa called over to the woman leading two gorgeous, less-than-one-quarter-dressed Latinas through a very dirty bump-n-grind. "Hey Ms. Ep! Got some fresh meat for ya!"

She spoke to the girls for a few moments, then sent them on their way and came over to where we stood. She seemed to be in her mid-thirties, and was dressed conventionally for a dance instructor - form-fitting, not fetish, tights. "Hello, dear! I'm Ms. Epstein. And you are?"

My real name was of no utility here. "I guess I'm Marci."

"Well," she said, giving a sharp glance at Melissa, "you can call me Ms. Ep. Everybody does."

"Pleased to meet you." I was trying to be as polite as possible. She was good-looking, and in excellent shape, but not at the level of a Gerry's Girl. So I wanted to peg her as a collaborator. But Melissa had taught me that I had to check my assumptions. So... "What brings you here?" I was upset enough that it still came out as a challenge.

First she tried to examine my body, but the sweats defeated her. She made a sidelong look at Melissa, who nodded. It barely took a second. She waved at her right leg. "You see this knee? I tore the ACL, ripped it right in half. Ended my career. Then Gerry found me." She dropped down, left leg straight behind her and right knee folded double. Then she shot up into a graceful pirouette.

She came to a halt facing me. "In a couple years I can go back to dancing. With enough money to start my own dance company, if I'm careful."

Gerry knew how to pick personnel - and motivate them, it seemed. Then again, he could read minds...

Her head tilted to one side as she looked me up and down. "Hmm. That hair... we can work it into your routine, make it work for you. Swirl it around, use it to hide and show things. We'll go big on the heels, shape your legs and ass."

Part of me was furious. But in my mind I could kind of see what she was going for. I had to agree, it'd be stunning, glamorous. It'd drive guys wild. And that got my heart racing.

Ms. Ep pointed. "Get those sweats off, please. Let me see what you're working with." At my dismayed look, she said, "Oh, come on. Just us girls here. Whatever's new, you don't have anything I haven't seen before."

Melissa spoke up. "It's more what she doesn't have. Anymore." I glared at her. She wasn't affected.

Ms. Ep's eyebrows lifted. "Really?" She shrugged. "Oh, well, the last one worked out nicely."

Melissa chuckled. "She worked him out pretty nicely last night."

Both of them laughed at my speechless astonishment. That hot little number was a man? Or, had been? "Bullshit," I declared, bristling.

Melissa spread her arms, palms up, apologetic... but still grinning. "Nah, she got... recruited in July."

Now I wasn't just disturbed, I was horrified. Sam? 'Collette' was Sam?! Oh, shit... that thing Gerry had said about 'her background showing'...

"I... I need to sit down."

Looking concerned, Ms. Ep said, "Of course, dear, come over here..." She led me to a folding chair which I dropped into.

They only gave me a minute or so, whispering to each other a few steps away. I had time to accumulate a lot of worry and despair. Sam had been portly, and balding, and the hair that was left was brown. He'd been mostly German-American, and couldn't do accents - French or otherwise. If he could be so throughly remade...

They struck at a low point, I think by coincidence, when my defenses were weakest. "C'mon, honey, calm down. It'll be okay. I just want to see what you look like under that mess." Before I knew it I was standing with my arms up and Ms. Ep was pulling the sweatshirt over my head, and hair. And then Melissa's fingers hooked the waistband and pulled down the pants.

I stood naked, feeling very vulnerable. But Ms. Ep had some experience with Gerry's Girls. She knew how to motivate them. "Oh, Mel, just look at those tits! Her nipples are so cute! She's gonna be pop-u-lar!"

Those nipples were poking out in response to the idea. Melissa said, "Turn around, show us your ass!"

Hesitantly, I did. Again I had to move the hair so it could be seen. "Oooooh," she cooed, "apple-bottom! That'll get 'em sprung!" Her hand made the 'stroking' motion at her crotch, which made me picture a guy doing that.

Ms. Ep made an assenting "Mmm". Then she said, "Lean forward a bit, like this. Yes, let your hair hang over them. Just like that." She waved at the mirror across the room. "See? Guys love that stuff. Imagine a guy sitting in front of you, that's what he sees."

I was getting wet as she painted a verbal picture of an audience of men, and talked me through poses. Then she started a little music and had me try some dance moves. I was lost in fantasy, enticing a crowd of guys who were getting more and more aroused... soon they wouldn't be able to hold back anymore, and there would be a gangbang...