ForcedMTF - Halloween Tales: Bros to Hoes Ch 14

Deshawn stretched out on the couch like he owned the cabin, which maybe he did now. Valentina knelt on the floor between his legs, her red silk dress pooled around her knees, her dark glossy hair falling forward over one shoulder, pearls catching the firelight. Mika sat on the arm of the couch in her red latex mini-dress, legs crossed so high that the hem rode up to show the lace tops of her fishnets. Tina had found another pink outfit somehow—a cropped baby tee that read BABE in glitter across her chest, and a pleated micro-skirt that barely covered the pink thong underneath. Candi leaned against the wall near the hallway, one leg bent, silver halter top slipping, the sheer sarong tied low enough that her navel stud flashed.

I stood by the fireplace. The poker was on the floor where Rico had dropped it. I kept my arms crossed over my chest, but it didn't help.

"Look at this," Deshawn said. He spread his arms wide, king of the wreckage. "Four fine-ass women. One lucky man. This is the best weekend of my life."

"We're not women," Mika said. Her voice was Mike's voice, scraped raw, but it came out breathy and bedroom-soft. "We're your friends. We're men."

"Men?" Deshawn laughed. He reached out and flicked the strap of Mika's latex dress. It snapped against her shoulder, and her new breast jiggled inside the cup. "Those are tits, Mike. Those are fuck-me heels. That pussy of yours is still leaking me. You're not a man. You're a product."

Mika's face twisted. "I'm not a product. I'm a—" Her hand went to her own chest, lifting the weight, her red nails pressing into the latex. "—I'm a high-end product. Expensive. Exclusive."

"There she is." Deshawn grinned. "Mika knows her market value."

Tina giggled. The sound was all bimbo, but Trent's eyes were in there, flickering with panic. "I used to make fun of girls who took selfies in mirrors," she said. "Now I can't walk past one without, like, posing."

"Show me," Deshawn said.

Tina's face flushed. "No. I mean—" She stood up, turned sideways, sucked in her stomach, and pushed her chest out. The BABE lettering distorted across her massive tits. Her micro-skirt lifted at the back, showing the pink thong cutting into her round ass. "—like this?"

"Exactly like that," Deshawn said.

"Put her down," I said. My voice came out hoarse. "All of you. This isn't funny."

"No one's laughing, office boy," Deshawn said. "Except me. And I'm laughing because this is beautiful." He gestured at the room. "Four alpha dogs, four pigs, four little kings of the mountain—and now they're tits and ass and wet little smiles. That's justice."

"That's torture," Valentina whispered. Her head was bowed, but her voice had Rico's rage buried under layers of breathy submission. "I was the leader. I planned. I decided."

"And now?" Deshawn asked. He touched her chin, tilting her face up. Her red lips parted. Tears gathered in her mascara but didn't fall. "Now what do you do, Valentina?"

"I wait," she said. The words came out like a moan. "I wait for my husband to come home. I cook. I dress. I spread my legs when he tells me."

"Fuck," Deshawn breathed. "Say it again."

"I spread my legs when he tells me," Valentina repeated. Then Rico surfaced, furious. "No. No, I don't. I take charge. I—" Her thighs parted under the red silk. "—I do what I'm told."

"Goddamn." Deshawn leaned back, his hand still on her face. "Rico, you always bossed us around. Now you're gonna be some rich asshole's obedient little wifey. That's poetic."

"It's disgusting," I said.

"It's hot," Deshawn said. "And you know it. Look at your trunks."

I didn't look down. I didn't need to. I could feel my cock pressing against the damp fabric, traitorous, responding to the room. The smell alone—perfume and stage oil and arousal—was enough.

"You want to be the next one, Kayla?" Deshawn asked. "You want to put on that little skirt and join the sorority?"

"No," I said.

"Not yet," Deshawn said. "But soon."

Candi pushed off the wall. Her body rolled when she walked, all stage presence, hips figure-eighting, tits bouncing in the silver halter. She stopped in front of me, close enough that I could feel the heat of her oiled skin.

"She's waiting for you," Candi said. Her voice was Cole's, thin and scared, fighting with the stripper purr. "Kayla. In the mirror. She says you're going to be the easiest one."

"Back off," I said.

"I can't." Candi's hand rose to my chest. Her fingers were small, soft, nails painted glitter silver. "If you don't look at me, I start to fade. I can feel it. Like I'm not real unless someone wants me."

Her hand slid down my stomach. I grabbed her wrist. The bone was delicate, fragile. "Stop."

"Make me," Candi whispered. Then she giggled, all stripper. "Or don't. I like a man who handles me rough."

"Candi, sit down," Deshawn commanded.

She turned. Her hips rolled toward him. "Yes, boss."

"On my lap."

Candi straddled him without hesitation. The silver g-string pulled tight between her new lips as she settled onto his thighs, her back arching, her tits in his face. Deshawn's hands found her ass, squeezing the oiled flesh.

"See?" Deshawn said to me. "She knows her place. They all do."

"I know mine," Mika said. The hooker voice was thick now, winning. She uncrossed her legs, spreading them slightly on the arm of the couch, showing the dark wet spot on her black lace panties. "I'm the one you pay for. The one you use in alleys. The one you forget."

"You want me to use you, Mikey?" Deshawn asked.

Mika's body shivered. "Yes. No. Yes." Her hand went between her legs and pressed against the lace. "This body is so fucking sensitive. It won't stop. It wants to be fucked. It wants to be used. I want—" She slapped her own thigh. "—I want to be left alone."

"Liar," Deshawn said.

"I know what I want," Tina said. She was still posing by the fireplace, one hand on her hip, her blonde curls bouncing as she shifted. "I want everyone to look at me. I want to be the prettiest. I want a man to tell me I'm the best."

"You're the best, blondie," Deshawn said.

Tina beamed. "Thank you." Then Trent surfaced, horrified. "Don't thank him. Don't—" Her hands went to her own tits, lifting them, pushing them together. "—don't make me feel good when he says it."

"Too late," Deshawn said. "Your tits love compliments. Your pussy loves attention. That's all you are now, Tina. A pair of big bimbo tits and a tight little hole."

"I'm not a hole," Tina said. But her hand slid under her micro-skirt, pressing the pink thong. "I'm not—ohgod—"

"Tell me what you are," Deshawn said.

"I'm a dumb blonde with big tits," Tina panted. "I'm a cock-hungry little airhead. I'm a—" She bit her glossy lower lip. "—a fucktoy."

"Good girl."

Valentina made a small sound. Deshawn looked down at her, still on her knees between his legs, her face inches from where Candi was grinding on his lap.

"You jealous, Valentina?" Deshawn asked. "You want some attention too?"

"Yes, sir," Valentina whispered. Then Rico's voice: "No. Never."

"Yes, sir," she repeated. Her tongue came out, wet and slow, tracing her red upper lip. "Please tell me what to do, sir. I'll do anything."

Deshawn put his hand on her head. Not forcefully. Possessively. Her eyes fluttered shut. "Make us drinks, Valentina. Be a good housewife."

She rose gracefully, the red silk whispering over her stockings, and minced toward the kitchen. Her hips swayed with every step, her ass rolling, her breasts bouncing against the silk. She moved like she had been trained to serve.

"This is insane," I said.

"This is amazing," Deshawn said. He squeezed Candi's ass, and she moaned, grinding harder against him. "Do you know how long I've waited to have women like this around me? Women who actually know what they're for?"

"They're our friends," I said. "They're men."

"Were men." Deshawn looked at Mika, at Tina, at Valentina in the kitchen. "Now they're better. Prettier. Dumber. More useful."

"Fuck you," Mika said.

"Language, Mikey." Deshawn grinned. "Ladies don't curse like that."

"Ladies don't—" Mika's hip popped. She leaned toward him, her latex dress straining across her tits. "Ladies do whatever you pay them to do, baby."

"How much?"

Mika opened her mouth. Closed it. The hooker compulsion fought with Mike's rage. "For you?" She smiled, red lips stretching. "Free. Because you broke me in already."

"Jesus," I breathed.

Valentina returned with glasses. She handed one to Deshawn, one to Candi, one to Mika. She held the fourth out to me, head bowed, both hands on the glass.

"For you, sir," she said.

I didn't take the glass. I couldn't touch her hand. If I touched her, I would feel the silk, the softness, the transformation made real.

"Drink up, ladies," Deshawn said. "We got a long night ahead. Lots of getting to know each other."

"I don't want to know this," I said.

"Then watch," Deshawn said. "Watch your friends become their true selves. Watch Mike learn to love being Mika. Watch Trent forget how to be anything but Tina. Watch Cole realize that the stage is the only place he exists. Watch Rico—" He gestured at Valentina, who had sunk back to her knees at his feet, resting her cheek against his thigh. "—watch Rico learn to obey."

"Never," Rico whispered through Valentina's lips.

"Bring me my drink, Valentina," Deshawn said. "With your mouth."

Valentina's eyes went wide. Then she took the glass between her red lips, tilting it carefully, and crawled up his body to offer it to him. The red silk hiked up over her ass. Her stockings whispered. She stopped with her tits pressed against his chest, the glass held in her teeth, waiting for him to take it.

Deshawn leaned forward and drank from the glass still in her mouth. Whiskey spilled over her lower lip, down her chin, onto her cleavage. She didn't wipe it. She let it drip into the valley of her breasts.

"Good girl," Deshawn said.

"Thank you, sir," Valentina breathed.

Mika watched with narrowed eyes. "Pathetic," she said. But her hand was between her legs again.

"Jealous, Mikey?" Deshawn asked.

"No." Mika stood up, smoothing her latex dress over her hips. "I don't serve drinks. I get paid to fuck."

"Then fuck," Deshawn said.

Mika's body moved toward him before her mind could stop it. She pushed Candi aside—not roughly, with a hooker's territorial hip-check—and climbed onto Deshawn's lap. Candi slid to the floor, laughing, and crawled over to where Tina stood, wrapping her arms around Tina's waist.

"You're so soft," Candi said to Tina.

"You're so shiny," Tina giggled. "We should dance together."

"We should," Candi said. Then Cole surfaced. "No. I don't want to dance for them."

"But we have to," Candi's voice added. "They need to watch."

Tina and Candi began to move together. Not a real dance, just bodies swaying, hips rolling, tits brushing against each other through fabric. Tina's micro-skirt lifted with every sway, showing the pink thong. Candi's silver halter slipped, one dark nipple peeking out. Neither fixed it.

"Look at them," Deshawn said to me. He had one hand on Mika's latex-covered ass, the other on Valentina's bowed head. "They're happy. The female part of them is happy. Why are you fighting it?"

"Because it's not them," I said.

"It is now." Deshawn thrust his hips up against Mika, and she moaned, her painted face falling against his neck. "Mike loves this. Trent loves this. Cole loves this. Rico—" He glanced down at Valentina, who was kissing his thigh through his trunks. "—Rico loves being useful."

"I don't love it," Mika gasped. Then she ground down harder. "I love it."

"See?" Deshawn said. "She loves it."

I needed to leave the room. But there was nowhere to go. The hallway mirror glowed pink. The bedrooms were full of girls' clothes. The windows were black. The front door was locked.

"Your turn, office boy," Deshawn said. "Come sit with us. Let the ladies welcome you to the club."

"No," I said.

"They don't bite," Deshawn said. "Unless you pay them to."

"I'll bite," Mika purred.

"I'll kiss," Tina giggled.

"I'll dance," Candi whispered.

"I'll serve," Valentina said.

I backed against the wall unsure what to do.

The room had settled into something almost domestic. The fire was low. Deshawn had Mika on his lap, Valentina at his feet, Tina and Candi swaying together near the hearth with their tits brushing through fabric. The only thing missing was music, and my own heartbeat was loud enough to fill the silence.

Then the walls inhaled.

I felt it in my lungs. The air pulled back, pressure dropping, the way the sky holds its breath before a storm. The flames in the hearth turned from orange to pink to a green so deep it looked black. Mika stiffened on Deshawn's thighs. Valentina's head snapped up from his knee. Tina's giggle died in her throat.

"Two little men," the voice said.

It didn't echo this time. It spoke from inside the furniture, from the wood grain, from the wet stains on the rug.

"Two little tongues still wagging in male mouths. One speaks honey and lies. One speaks gravel and truth. One of you will walk out of my woods with his cock and his name. The other will leave as my daughter."

Deshawn's hand was still on Mika's latex-covered ass. He didn't move it. "A contest? I'm good at contests."

"Not a contest," the voice said. "A judgment. Repent. Mean it. The one I find worthy keeps his manhood. The other blooms."

The word blooms made my stomach drop. I thought of Rico's chest swelling, his jaw softening, his voice turning into Valentina's breathy submission. I thought of my own reflection in the mirror, honey-blonde and plaid-skirted, waiting.

"Look at them first," the voice whispered. "Look at what you made."

I looked. I couldn't not.

Mika's red latex dress had ridden up over her hips, the black lace of her panties. Her tits were pushed up by the dress, nipples thick and visible through the red, her red lips parted, her eyes a war between Mike's rage and Mika's hunger.

Tina stood in the center of the room, her micro-skirt barely covering the pink thong, her BABE shirt torn at the neckline so one heavy breast threatened to spill out. She was touching her own hair, fluffing it, her hips swaying with a rhythm she couldn't stop.

Candi had dropped to the floor again, one leg extended in a dancer's stretch, the silver g-string cutting into her new pussy, the sheer sarong twisted around her hips. She was oiled and posed and ready, even when Cole's eyes were screaming.

Valentina was on her knees in front of Deshawn, her red silk dress hiked over her thighs, her stockings whispering against each other, her pearls catching the green light. Her face was lifted toward him, painted and submissive, and when she spoke, it was with Rico's voice buried under silk.

"Do I please you, sir?" she asked.

"Yeah," Deshawn said, not looking at her. "You please me."

Valentina shuddered from the approval.

"Four hunters," the voice said. "Four men who took what they wanted and threw away the rest. Now look at them. The alpha is a wife. The muscle is a bimbo. The closer is a whore. The shadow is a star. Their cocks are gone. Their wills are soft. Their only purpose is to be wanted."

"Fuck you," Mika whispered. But her hips rolled against Deshawn.

"Fuck me?" The voice laughed. The laugh made the windows rattle. "You already have, Mika. You are going to fuck every man who looks at you. And you will keep fucking until you forget the man you were."

"I won't forget," Mike said through her lips.

"That’s true and I will make sure of it, makes the punishment that much sweeter," the voice said. "Now. Repent."

Deshawn stood up. Mika slid off his lap and landed on her knees beside Valentina. He stepped over them, naked from the waist down and walked to the center of the room like he owned the curse.

"Repent?" Deshawn said. He laughed. "For what? For being a man? For wanting women? For fucking women who wanted to fuck?"

"For making them objects," the voice said.

"They were objects," Deshawn said. "We all are. Men are objects. Women are objects. The difference is women are prettier objects." He gestured at the four of them. "Look at these four. They're perfect. Tits, ass, mouths, holes. You think I'm sorry I want to use them? You think I'm sorry I want to bend them over and make them scream?"

"Deshawn," I said.

"What?" He turned on me, grinning. "You gonna cry, office boy? You gonna apologize for having a cock?"

I stepped forward. My legs were shaking. The floorboards felt warm under my feet, like the cabin was breathing up through them.

"Yes," I said. "I am going to apologize."

The voice went quiet. The fire popped.

I looked at the girls. Not their bodies, not their tits, but their eyes. Mike's eyes in Mika's face. Trent's eyes in Tina's. Cole's in Candi's. Rico's in Valentina's.

"I'm sorry," I said. My voice cracked, but I didn't clear it. I let it crack. "I'm sorry for every woman I treated like she was scenery. Every woman I fucked because it was easier than going home alone. Every woman I laughed about afterward. Every name I forgot. Every body I rated. Every time I stood next to these guys and let them talk about women like they were inventory and I didn't say anything."

Deshawn snorted. "Jesus."

"I'm not done," I said. "I'm sorry for letting Rico point at women and decide who was worth his time. I'm sorry for letting Mike brag about fucking them and forgetting them. I'm sorry for letting Trent judge them pretty or worthless. I'm sorry for letting Cole run interference so the rest of us could get laid. I'm sorry for being the empty chair at the table. The one who went along. The one who drank the drinks and fucked the women and pretended it didn't matter because nothing mattered to me."

Mika's eyes changed. Mike was there, listening.

"I didn't see them," I said. "I didn't see any of them. I saw tits. I saw ass. I saw a chance to feel like I belonged to something. I used them to fill a hole in me, and I didn't care what I left behind. That makes me worse than any of you. I didn't lead. I didn't hunt. I just consumed. I ate whatever was put in front of me."

The cabin was silent except for my breathing.

"I am sorry," I said. "Not because I want to keep my cock. Not because I'm afraid of becoming Kayla. I'm sorry because I finally understand what I did. I finally see them as people. I see Mike in there. Trent. Cole. Rico. I see that they were people too, and the things we did to women were done to them now, and it's wrong. It's all wrong. And I don't want to be the man who did that anymore."

Deshawn clapped slowly. "Beautiful speech. You should run for office."

"Shut up," I said. The words came out harder than I expected. "You don't get it. You never got it. You think women exist for your mouth and your cock. You're proud of it. But you're not a man. You're a parasite with a pickup line."

Deshawn's smile flickered. Then it came back, sharper. "Nice try. But I'm not repenting. I'm not sorry. I'm never going to be sorry. I like women as objects. I like these women as objects." He walked over to Valentina, who was still on her knees, and grabbed a fistful of her dark glossy hair. "You hear me, Valentina? You're a pretty object. A rich man's toy. And if I had you, I'd use you until you broke."

"Yes, sir," Valentina whispered. Her thighs parted wider. "Please use me."

"See?" Deshawn said. "She loves it. They all love it. That's what women are, deep down. They want to be wanted. They want to be used. And I'm the one who uses them best."

"You're wrong," I said.

"I'm honest," Deshawn said. "You're lying to yourself. You're hard right now, office boy. I can see it. You're hard because of them. Because of Mika's tits. Because of Tina's ass. Because of Candi's body. Because of Valentina on her knees. You want to objectify them same as me. You just feel bad about it."

I looked down. He was right. My cock was pressing against my trunks, ready and traitorous. I was aroused by the ruin of my friends. The shame of it made me want to vomit.

"That doesn't make me right," I said. "It makes me sick. And I'm trying to stop being sick."

"How noble," the voice said. "How rare. A man who sees himself and does not turn away."

Deshawn laughed. "He's a fake. He's saying whatever he thinks you want to hear."

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