[align center]
**Eviction Moratorium Blues** \
_An X-Change Short story by Aphrodite_
[continue]
I’ve got some free advice for anyone who's listening. Yes, this pandemic has been tough on us all. And _yes_, you might not think of landlords as very sympathetic characters. But I can assure you that many of us “mom and pop” landlords aren’t the filthy rich tyrants you take us for.
Picture this: with the new federal eviction moratorium, you can't kick tenants out, even if they refuse to pay rent. That means your rental property, the income source that puts food on the table, has suddenly become a lot more unpredictable.
So I had this renter named Christoff. And yeah, before you get on my case about it, I should’ve checked his application more carefully. Called more of his references or something. But I had just purchased (and painstakingly renovated) the unit adjacent to my own. I was super excited to get my very first tenant.
Christoff was a foreign exchange student from France, which I thought was cool, being an immigrant myself.
The night he moved in, he invited me over for drinks. And he seemed so friendly! We chatted late into the evening… talked about our girl problems, the pandemic (of course), and the different things that brought us to America.
Well, Christoff ended up getting a bit drunk. Funny, I thought Europeans were supposed to handle their liquor really well. Anyhow, his choice of topics got darker after that. He told me that on weekends, he liked to give guys X-Change - potent little pills that turned them into girls. I noticed he didn’t actually specify whether they knew what they were getting into.
He said he liked the shifting of power dynamics. How he could mold once-proud guys into horny sluts. I’m fairly conservative, and tried to find a way out of this line of conversation. But the guy just kept going.
Christoff said he loved to put “weak betas” in their societal place. Guys he thought didn’t deserve the mantle, the privilege, of being guys. He said some pretty misogynistic things, and I tuned them out.
Needless to say, I was really regretting ever having this heart-to-heart with my new tenant. I said I needed to go. But he just kept talking, even while I stood up to excuse myself. He described how the final act of cumming on someone’s face, marked them forever as his bitch. His property. Their pride never recovered after that specific act, he said.
I shuddered, and said goodnight. He gave a halfhearted wave.
Over the next few weeks, I tried to forget what we talked about. Probably best to chalk it up to the alcohol and move on.
[[But things were about to get worse.->page 2]]When the day rent was due came around, I didn’t receive anything from Christoff. We'd agreed that he would pay me by direrct deposit on the 12th eah month - but perhaps he had set something up wrong.
I even waited till the next day, and checked my account to be sure I hadn’t missed anything. Wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Finally, I sent him an email, reminding him gently about rent. _“It’s okay,”_ I wrote. _“Easy to forget the first time.”_
But Christoff didn’t even reply! So eventually, I summoned the courage to go over to his apartment again, and ring the doorbell. It took a while, but he finally opened the door, nothing but a towel around his waist.
(This is probably a good time to mention that I have severe social anxiety, and I hate awkward conversations of any kind. So by now I was super uncomfortable.)
“Um, Christoff…” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “About this month’s rent…”
“Oh yeah!” he said, emphatically. “Of course! I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. My income has been severely impacted by COVID-19, and I am unable to actually pay rent.”
I felt a big lump in my throat. “You c- can’t pay it... _at all?”_
“Sorry,” he shrugged. “It’s this bloody pandemic, you know! Crazy what it’s done to my finances.”
“You’ll have to think of something!” I said.
“As soon as this situation improves,” he says. “I’ll pay up, I promise.”
I was really counting on that money. I had even borrowed the money to renovate his unit! He couldn’t just _not pay!_ Right?
“I know you won’t try to evict me,” he said. “Because you’re a very good person, Steve. And, the moratorium, of course.”
“What am I supposed to do?!” I huffed.
Christoff shrugged. “I think there’s some government aid you can apply for, might cover some of your expenses.”
What a joke this all was! I took in a deep breath, and looked away. “Talk to you later,” was all I said, and awkwardly returned to my own apartment.
I did all the research I could, and I did actually apply for some aid. But it didn’t nearly cover the absence of rent, even if my application was accepted.
***
<div class="top_right_pic"><img class='greyborder'
src='https://x-change.life/projects/moratorium/pill.jpeg' width=100% height=auto></div>The next day, I got an envelope under my door. It just said “TAKE ME” on it. I opened it - all that was inside, was this little pink pill. I just growled, and stomped over to Christoff’s.
“Yes?” He asked. “What is it?”
“WHAT IS IT??!” I croaked. “What is THIS?” I waved the pill in his face.
“No need to get all worked up. Where did you get that?” He smiled as he asked. “Is that what I think it is? An X-Change pill?”
“You told me the first night you came here, that you like to give people these pills!” I said. “It’s obviously yours!”
“I don’t think so,” he shook his head. “I can’t afford stuff like that anymore, with this pandemic. As you know. No income.”
Shoulders shaking in rage, I made one last attempt. [[“Why the hell would y- ‘someone’ give me this?”->page 3]]
“It’s funny, all the reasons guys want to take them,” Christoff says. “You never know, they either enjoy it, or they use it to solve a specific problem. Who knows, doors may open to you that you didn’t know would open. People might… pay things, that they weren’t previously going to pay!”
“A- ha!” You shout. “So you do admit giving this to me! You want me to take it, and turn me into one of your little sluts!”
“I never said that,” he shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He knew damn well what I was talking about. But I wasn’t going to give this buffoon another second of my time.
"Well, it's not gonna happen!" I said, before slamming the door.
***
The following month, Christoff didn’t pay up either. Not that I was expecting him to. Supposedly, after the eviction moratorium was over, all unpaid rent would come due - so I was hoping this madness would just come to an end already, naturally. I would then kick the fucker to the bloody curb.
But the moratorium didn’t end. And I actually lost my desk job as an IT consultant, taking away my only other potential stream of income. My company had downsized due to unspecified COVID-related impacts.
Blah blah blah. I was so goddamned sick of hearing everyone's COVID complaints. Everyone was using it as an excuse to treat each other like shit!
It was humiliating, to be on government aid, but I got onto all the programs I was eligible for. Unfortunately, the aid wasn’t close to enough to cover my mortgage and loan payments. I was burning through my savings fast, and it wouldn’t be long before I was broke.
_Broke!_ I had worked SO HARD for everything I had, after coming over from Vietnam. Fought for every penny, to purchase these units. And now, I was going to lose anything due to this French asshat.
***
I’m not sure why I never threw that pill away. I kept it in a little jar in my closet. Maybe I could try selling it? But I didn’t even know what kind it was. Probably a Basic - all that would get me would be like $35 bucks tops on Facebook marketplace, not worth the hassle of explaining that I didn’t know what it was.
“ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS TAKE IT” came a cryptic message under the door. In the same handwriting as on the envelope. It wasn’t even worth confronting Christoff again, and I honestly didn’t want to see his bloody stupid face.
But as the next month wore on, I thought about his offer more. Just take the pill, and he would pay his rent. My monetary problems would be at least partially solved, and all it took was a little humility.
[[Of course, that was _if_ he would keep his word.->page 4]]
I finally resolved to do it. Not sure what finally tipped the scales for me. Was it pure desperation, or was there an ounce of curiosity about what this pill would turn me into? Would I like how I looked, as a girl?
I picked a weekend when I wasn’t job-hunting and didn’t have any interviews scheduled. A glass of water in hand, I gulped down the shiny pink pill.
The effect was immediate. I shuddered as a buzzing sensation wracked my body, like bees were crawling over every inch of it. My hips widened with an audible pop, causing me to yelp. I rushed over to a mirror, just in time to see my jaw soften, my eyelashes extend, my new, long hair tumbled down my shoulders.
<div class="top_left_pic"><video src='https://x-change.life/projects/moratorium/transform.mp4' autoplay='' loop='' muted='' playsinline/></div>Ok, I wasn’t like that cute or anything. I was essentially just the female version of myself. But when I smiled, it was nice. I felt a little bit of warmth go through my spine. It was sad, the first girl that had smiled at me in a long time, was simply my gender-bent self just staring back at me in the bathroom mirror.
I tossed on some clothes, which were now baggy. My breasts were there alright, but they weren’t unmanageably large. B-cups?
The one thing I just couldn’t get used to though, was how it felt when the fabric of my shirt brushed across my new, swollen nipples. It was downright tingly and strange. Made me feel all sorts of odd things.
There, I was a girl. Girl Steve. How about Stephanie? Nah, I don’t like that name. Do I really need to pick a new name? If I absolutely had to, I’d go with Stella. Similar to Steve, and didn’t sound totally ridiculous with my last name. Stella Lim. That sounded normal enough.
Carried on the wings of absurdity, I trotted over to Christoff’s apartment. He grinned from ear to ear when he saw me.
“Perfect,” he said. “Just perfect. Want to come in?”
“I’ll stay out here,” I said, crossing my arms. “Thanks.”
“You’re cute as a button,” he said. “Like, a gorgeous little present. Heh.”
I don’t know why I felt that little bit of warmth inside me when he complimented me. And I did my best to quickly suppress it. I’d done what he asked.
“I expect the rent to be paid,” I squeaked in my new, high pitched asian-girl voice. Tried to sound as authoritative as possible. “So please, pay it.”
“Well, I can hardly turn down such a charming woman,” Christoff laughed. “Lucky for you, I just hit a small run of good luck. So I can pay some of the rent.”
“ALL the rent!” I chirped again.
“Some,” he repeated, slowly, handing over an envelope with cash. Before I can protest, he lifts his phone and snaps a picture of me. But who cares, no one will know that girl was me except him.
Clutching the money tightly in my sweaty palms, I stalked back to my place. I spread those the bills out onto the dining room table, and counted almost one month’s rent. I just KNEW that fucker was holding out on me. But this was a start, maybe he would start paying regularly now.
When I went to bed that night, I ran my hands over my smooth new body. It wasn’t that bad, actually. I was only about 2 inches shorter, and somehow I felt more comfortable. Couldn’t really explain that part of it.
When 24 hours passed, that same buzzing feeling came. I turned back into Steve almost violently. My average-sized cock came back. My chest hair. I got marginally taller. [[I let out a little sigh.->page 5]]Another rent day came and went, no rent was paid. My flurry of job applications were in vain, none of these companies were hiring.
The next week, another envelope came under the door. Another pink pill. This time, the envelope said “WATCH A MOVIE WITH ME”.
The nerve of this asshole. The absolute nerve. If I had just waited longer, and gotten a normal paying tenant, I wouldn’t be in any sort of pickle. That rental income would’ve ben enough to support me through this job search. But because of Christoff, my life was deteriorating.
But I took the pill again. This time, I stood in front of the mirror the whole time, to watch the transformation happen. It was honestly pretty amazing, what modern pharmacology could do.
The absurdity of this wasn’t lost on me, that these companies could turn guys into girls almost magically, but they couldn’t cure COVID! Total misallocation of resources, if you asked me.
At about 8pm, I went over to Christoff’s apartment. As a peace offering, I brought some ice lemon tea.
“Hey, good to see you again!” he smiled at my approach. “I’ve picked out a great French film tonight, just wanted a bud to watch it with me. It’s barely out in theatres.”
“Then how’d you get it?” I asked, naively.
“Wouldn’t ye like to know, lassie,” he winked and gave a piratical grin.
It occurred to me then that if I didn’t hate him so much, Christoff had this sort of brutish likableness to him. I mean, he was good looking. But he also had this easygoing charm. Not that I was charmed right now. I was livid. But I had also brought tea.
“Mmm, this is good,” he said as he sipped some and pressed play.
“Homemade,” I said, regretting it a bit. I was going to sit here for the hour and a half, endure some stupid arthouse cinema, and then I was going to leave.
“Family recipe?” He asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “My mom made it a lot back in Hanoi.”
“Ah, so you’re from North Vietnam,” he said. “Interesting.”
I shut up promptly, scooting a little further from him on the couch. I didn’t want him to see this as a date or anything like that. This was just like two guys watching a movie together, normal. Plus I hated him. So not normal. But like, normal. Not a date.
This movie actually contained quite a lot of nudity. Watching a guy and girl make out, and then get naked, and then fuck… geez. It was really uncomfortable to be sitting next to him. Plus, he kept looking at me with this meaningful little smile.
“Just watch the show,” I glared, and he laughed.
“You’re cute when you’re mad.”
“I’m always mad at you,” I said. “Because of you, I am going broke.” My lips made a shape they had never made - a pout. It came really naturally to me for some reason. I quickly shook it off.
Chris-jerk-off paused for a moment at that. As if he hadn’t considered it. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“If you were sorry, you wouldn’t be doing this to me,” I said. “So don’t tell me you’re sorry like some little puppy.”
“Little puppy!!” He chortled. “I am a lot bigger than you, especially now.”
“Dog, then,” I sniffed. Feeling really weird, held hostage until this movie completed.
“If I’m honest with you…” Christoff said. “I am really lonely. That is why I asked you come hang out with me.”
“Don’t you have your other ‘bitches’?” I said. “The ones you are so proud about? That you mark your territory on their faces with your smelly French cum???”
“Hey!” He said, face getting red, then pausing and letting me get uncomfortable. “Who told you it was smelly?” Then he broke down in fits of laughter. “Oh well, I don’t have bitches any more. I can’t go to bars anymore and meet new ones.”
“You poor thing,” I sulked. “Suffering so uniquely in this pandemic.”
“You could make me feel better,” he offered, as if appealing to my better self.
“Shut up,” I said. “I am watching this movie with you, and then I am going home.”
“If that’s how you feel,” he sulked, “then I don’t want to watch this movie anymore.” With that, he shut it off.
“Just when it was getting good,” I said, dryly. “French movies are all shit!!!”
“Because you don’t give them a chance!” He shouted at me. I just held out my hand, and he angrily slapped down another stack of bills in an envelope. “Take your stupid money, it’s all you care about.”
“It’s all I want,” I said.
***
That night, I laid in bed awake. Thinking about Christoff and his stupidity. He had now paid me for almost two month’s of rent, which was a start. I just wished I didn’t have to work so hard to get the money I was already owed.
I changed back to Steve again. The next month rolled by without another request. But no rent, of course. Sorry if I keep talking about rent, this is sort of what the story is about. It was my income, ok? My lifeline. I needed it to eat, to pay the bills. [[That’s why I was so fixated on it.->page 6]]The next envelope finally arrived. I’m sorry to say I was a bit excited to see it. Strangely, the pill seemed slightly bigger than the previous two? Or perhaps that was just my imagination running wild. It was the same shiny pink.
I popped it into my mouth, and once again changed into Stella. This time, I had some clothes to change into.
It was only then that I stopped to consider, the envelope didn’t have instructions on the back. Oh well, I’m sure I would discover them soon enough - some new stupid request from Christoff, no doubt.
<div class="top_right_pic"><video src='https://x-change.life/projects/moratorium/greet.mp4' autoplay='' loop='' muted='' playsinline/></div>“You actually took it!” he chortled when I arrived. For some reason, his usual mirth and charm were absent. “Phew.”
“‘Phew’?” I echoed.
“I was worried you wouldn’t,” he said. “I spent a lot of money on that one.”
“A lot of money?!” I squealed. “Come on, you owe me!” I paused. “But a Basic would cost only $100, maximum.”
“That’s the great part!” he said. “It’s not actually a Basic.”
“What???” I got this huge lump in my throat right then. My smile melted. Not a Basic… that means it’s one of those other kinds of pills. Not that I was super familiar with them.
“It’s a Choice,” he crooned. “You stay like this, until I give you another pill to turn back.”
“I st- stay like this? As a girl? Until I take another pill?”
“Yeah, that’s right,” Christoff said.
“Well, give it to me!” I barked. “Give me the change back pill now!”
“Oh, whoops,” he said. “I think I lost it.”
“You didn’t lose it,” I said. “I know you didn’t.”
“I’ll do my best to look for it,” he winked. “But the nicer you are to me, the greater my chances of finding it. It will boost my morale, you know.”
I huffed and puffed, panicking. “How could you do this to me??”
“Cute outfit, by the way,” Christoff noticed. “Not exactly… cohesive… but it is nice to see you in some real clothes.”
“My other clothes are my real clothes,” I said. “I am Steve.”
“Not anymore,” he laughed. “Now, you are Jasmine.”
“Stella,” I corrected him. “If you’re going to use a female name for me, call me Stella.”
“But what if I want to call you Jasmine?”
“You c- can’t,” I stammer.
“Okay, well I also c- can’t find that pill to change you back… _Jasmine.”_
“Okay, whatever. Call me whatever you want, Christoff. I don’t care. Just get me that pill, ok?”
“Please,” he said. “I think we know each other well enough by now, Jasmine. You can call me Chris.”
“WhatEVER.”
“Okey dokey,” he said, clapping his hands together with a fake American accent. “I am going to go in there and look for that pill. Unless you want to help me?”
“I’ll come,” you said, stomping in. If he refused to find that goddamn pill, you could just do it for him. You know his apartment top to bottom, and you know all the places he could hide it.
__*SMACK!*__
As I stepped into Chris’s apartment, he spanked my ass.
“Hey!” I squealed, blushing. “Hands off!”
“Whoops,” he grinned. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
I was absolutely furious. But then, I was furious before the moment he slapped my rounder-than-before female butt.
“You have a nice ass for an asian girl,” he said, straightforwardly and honestly.
“Shut up,” I responded, and my ears no doubt were burning scarlit. I was so angry, but I was also determined to find that pill.
There was this other sensation I felt too, when he spanked me. Something primal, and warm. But I pushed it down. I went straight into his bedroom, going through his stuff.
“God, your place is a mess!” You shout at him. “You are such a slob!”
“That’s what my mom always told me,” Christoff shrugged. “You could always help me clean it up, from time to time.”
“Yeah, you wish,” I almost screamed.
“Otherwise, I’ll just keep losing things…” he grinned. “By the way, you should check under my bed. I think it could be under there. In a little white bottle.”
I huffed and bent down, looking down around under his bed. There were plenty of pairs of soiled underwear, giving off this masculine sort of stench. Or musk or whatever. He obviously did not wash his clothes very much.
Suddenly, I felt hands on me from behind, where my butt was protruding out.
“St- OW!” I said, as I felt his strong hands run over the outline of my white jeans shorts. My head connected sharply with the underside of the bed, and I was temporarily stunned.
“Yes, it’s a nice little rump,” Christoff’s muffled crooning came from behind me. With horror, I felt his fingers knead into the ass-flesh exposed by the short shorts.
“Stop it!”
“What was that?” He pretended to to hear, before changing the spot he was touching. Instead of my ass, he rubbed his fingers over my little mound. My vagina. My pussy. Shocks of tingly energy blossomed outward from his touch.
“Oh my, you are warm there,” he murmured. “Very very warm.”
I scurried away from him, standing up and looking at the buffoon, angrily. I marched over to him, and slapped him in the face.
“I can’t stand you!” I screamed. “I am done with you! J- just, find that pill, and tell me when you have it! I’m not going to talk to you again!”
***
Tears rolling down my face, I left his apartment, and slammed my own door hard behind me. Locking it. Bolting it.
I threw myself onto my own bed, and cried a little. I felt so violated, so humiliated. The same guy who was causing me all this pain and anguish financially, he had the audacity to grope me.
But what was I going to do? Now that I was stuck as a girl, I would need to change my ID. I would need to call my parents back in Vietnam and tell them the news. Or something. Maybe I could wait on that part? That was going to be a humiliating conversation. They had been so proud of their son, even though they were pushing me to get a girlfriend and thus wife and thus grandchild-generating machine for them.
Whatever.
So many thoughts rolled through my head while I lay there miserably. But I kept inexplicably thinking back to how I felt when Christoff touched me. The annoying thing is, whenever that memory came up, I felt warm again. Hot again.
[[Wet, again.->page 7]]Ugh, it was true. I had gotten wet. Laugh all you want. But I got wet. I know X-Change amps up your libido, so I wasn’t technically surprised that I had some sort of physical reaction to Christoff’s touching. What bothered me, was how much I started thinking about it.
Thinking about _him._
I tried to picture my tenant as this interloper, who had ruined my life single-handedly. Who I HATED. Well, I did hate him. But just, not as much as I wanted to.
There was this other element of how I felt, this little smattering of respect. Of forbiddance. Is forbiddance a word? It was like he was the fruit from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, and I wanted to take a bite. No! That couldn’t be it. I did not want him.
But it became increasingly clear that my body did want him. Or wanted someone, at least. As the night wore on, the intensity of the feeling in my crotch and nipples, became an itch that needed to be scratched. So I decided to masturbate.
<div class="top_left_pic"><video src='https://x-change.life/projects/moratorium/masturbate.mp4' autoplay='' loop='' muted='' playsinline/></div>First, I turned on my laptop and opened up some porn. I clicked the first video that came up, just some normal stepsister garbage. I pulled off my panties, and tentatively touched myself.
My folds were wet, and puffy. My fingers slid easily in, welcomed into the tight, slimy, hotness of my vagina.
I really had a pussy. I really was a girl. The fact that this pill had no fixed end point, made me feel different about this. No longer was I just temporarily inhabiting a different body, this was my body, at least until I could get rid of it.
Weirdly, this porn wasn’t doing it for me anymore. I turned up the volume, moved to my favourite position, doggystyle. But the girl’s tits swinging and jiggling didn’t make me feel the same way. I found my eyes wandering up the guy’s abs, his hands, his thrusting pelvis. This was not a really good example of a man, this was a guy playing a stepbrother. Small and skinny. I decided to find another video.
There should have been more warning bells in my brain, when the same porn didn’t get me off. I picked something interracial, with a big bald white dude, who just happened to be screwing a small asian girl like me.
This was way better, at least according to my pussy. She slurped and tingled happily as I worked her complex machinery. It wasn’t too hard to figure out what motions were right, and what motions didn’t feel good. I rubbed that little nub, my clit, and the pleasure really started. My back arched.
I yelled, “OOOOH!”
Oh god that felt pretty good. Though I didn’t think I came. It was feeling good. My eyes fixated on this neastly man fucking the delicate asian girl. Plundering her flower, just like my flower wanted to be plundered.
“Ohhh- NNGH!” I groaned as I had another mini-spasm of sensation. Heat, tension building.
I was 17 minutes into the video when I came. The guy was pile driving the girl, plowing her tender cunt into submission.
“OHHHH GOD, OH GODDD Nnnnghh!” I squealed as I came. My brain ‘popped’ with a massive burst of the best chemicals I’d even felt. I melted into the bed as a wave of the most intense pleasure and relief, washed over me. It was like a tidal wave of letting go. Surrender.
Turns out, I was a squirter. As my orgasm hit its peak, I squirting out a little spray of fluid, all over my hands, and stained my bed. It would’ve been embarrassing if I cared at the moment.
My face must have been formed into a beatific smile. Like some stupid little slut. I was just happy to have released that big pile of buildup inside me, even if I’d ruined the fresh, clean sheets I’d just washed yesterday.
My eyes glanced back to the porn which was still playing. The facial part. The girl got to her knees, looking up. Opening her mouth. Waiting for her final degradation.
“Nnngh!” The guy moaned heavily and breathily. His cock twitched, and began firing ropes of gooey jizz all over the girl’s face.
Panicked, I shut my laptop before her humiliating dousing could be completed. I didn’t want to see it. Not after what Christoff had said. I didn’t want to fantasise about it.
This orgasm had been a necessary release, nothing more. It wasn’t my fault. [[I went to bed, and slept deeper than I ever had.->page 8]]But the next morning, that ache returned. Slowly, my mind went to sexual thoughts. Thinking about cocks, if I was honest with myself. Thinking of my tender wetness down there. My natural inferiority to tall guys with big, hard schlongs.
That’s when I got a knock on my door. It was Christoff.
“Hey, Jasmine,” he said when I opened it, and walked in. “I’m sorry about yesterday.”
I just gave him a ‘hmph,’ not sure what to say. My brain knew this was not a good time, not when I was feeling these sort of feelings. I should go off and deal with them without the great French Jerk around.
“I shouldn’t have just sprung that on you,” he said. “I should have explained myself.”
“I’m listening,” I sighed. “Not that you can say anything to make up for the gross things you did and said. And the fact that you still owe me several thousand dollars.”
“I should’ve told you exactly what I was going to do,” he said, his eyes growing cold. “Because you deserve it.”
“What?”
“You’re a tightly-wound little bitch,” he continued, fuelled by my look of incredulity. “Always worrying about money. Not thinking about the important things.”
The word ‘bitch’ was like a slap to my face. But for some reason, I wanted to hear what he was saying before I kicked him out again.
“Important things like how you should make others happy, not just yourself,” he said. “You’re not an alpha. I could tell that from the moment I met you. You’re a beta. Well, you were when you were a man, and you’re not anymore.”
I rolled my eyes. “Which is your fault.”
“You took the pills yourself,” he reminded me. “Deep down, some part of you knows that this is who you are in your best form. A cute little asian girl, who likes to be submissive.”
“Submissive?!” You squeal. “What the f-“
“Shush,” Christoff put a finger to my lips. For some reason, I went quiet. Was I really just curious about how deep his insanity went?
“If you want to really be happy, you should get to know me better,” he said. “Come over to my place every night. We can hang out. But don’t try to act like Steve. Be Jasmine. You will be happier.”
“N-“
“Just, try it out,” he says. “Come over to my place every night, for a week, and if you still feel like you want to be Steve at the end of it, then I will give you everything back. The pill. The money. All the rent I owe you, plus extra.”
“P- plus extra?”
“Yeah, sure,” he said. “I’ll see what I can scrounge up. But remember, you have to be yourself. Follow your heart. Do what it tells you to do. Do what I tell you to do.”
“Whatever,” I said. “I mean, yes. Okay, Chris. As long as you’ll really hold up your end of the deal.”
What I didn’t say - couldn’t say - was that every time he said something demeaning, or demanding, I got a little wetter. I hated myself for it.
“Good girl,” he patted my head. This little condescending compliment did it for me too. [[Sigh.->page 9]] The next day, I showed up at Chris’s apartment. If there was one thing that would make him happy, and make me happy, it was cleaning up his absolute disaster of an apartment. This was ok, since I actually liked cleaning. And maybe, I would run across that pill.
For the first two hours, Christoff ignored me, didn’t say thank you or anything. He just read some stupid French novel as I tossed his dirty clothes in the washing machine, did the dishes, and vacuumed the carpets.
Finally, the place was looking good, like it looked back when I offered the place for rent.
“That looks nice,” he said. “Now, come over here.”
To my shame, cleaning was making me horny too. My plan was to go back to my place for lunch, and make myself cum off again to manage the arousal level.
“No, sit next to me,” he said. “And tell me some more about yourself, Jasmine.”
“I- uh,” I said, sitting down next to him. Closer than I had to, perhaps.
“Well, I grew up in Vietnam. I came over here when I wanted to study accounting. Then I got my citizenship and stayed.”
“That’s nice,” he said. “But if you studied accounting, why don’t I ever see you working?”
“I lost my job,” I looked at the ground. “They let me go due to the pandemic.”
“No,” Christoff said. “That’s what they told you, maybe. They fired you because you’re not made for it.”
“Made for it?”
“You just don’t give me that office worker vibe, Jasmine,” he sighed. “I think you would be happier as a homemaker. Or hey, look at the great job you did cleaning up, at least try out housekeeping!”
“But that pays too little,” you said. “I wouldn’t consider it.”
“Sometimes,” he puts an arm around you. “You have to sacrifice a little money, to be happy.”
You make a pouting face.
“Here, that’s enough pep talk,” Christoff said. “Now, I have a little treat for you.” He move the book off his lap, where his cock was pocking through his pants. “Oops, must have forgotten to zip my fly. Could you help me?”
When you first saw your tenant’s penis, you let out a yelp. It was shocking, of course. You’d never seen a man’s cock in real life. And then you realise, this one is soft. And Christoff’s soft penis, was a lot bigger than yours was, even when yours was hard.
“Go on,” he said. “Touch it. Help me put it away.”
For some reason beyond my understanding, something from beyond the pale, I reached out and wrapped my dainty fingers around his dick. I wasn’t proud of it. But my body told me I needed to know how it felt.
It was like an electric spark when I made contact. So warm. Christoff’s member twitched in my dainty grasp, as it started to grow. The scent of his manhood reached my nostrils, filling them.
“Quickly,” he said. [[“Put it away, before it gets too big.”->page 10]]A bit too slowly, you tried to stuff it back in his pants. But it’s too late.
“Oh well,” he lets out a fake sigh. “I guess the only thing you can do now, is finish what you started.”
“D- do what?” I feigned ignorance, trying to preserve what bit of my dignity I had left.
“Jerk it off,” he said. “Come on, it’s not hard.”
“Yes it is,” I cracked a joke for some reason, giving his evident hardness a squeeze. “Holy-“
His dick was now at such an impressive girth, that my small asian fingers could not properly wrap around them.
“You like that big French cock, eh?” He said. “My big, white cock?”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” sounded like the right thing to say. But my eyes were fixated on this brutal fuck-rod. Wondering what it would feel like, if I did things with it. If it did things to me.
“Jerk it off,” he commanded.
I started pumping my hand along his length, quickly bringing in my right hand as well to aid.
Finally, the warning bells went off in my head. I stopped, letting his dick slap back down. “N- no,” I said. “I can’t.”
“Yes you can,” Christoff said, giving me a kiss.
Wow, that was incredible. How his hot mouth met mine, tongue gently but urgently searching for mine. He guided my hands back to his cock, and I started pumping again.
“That’s it,” he said. “Just pump.”
I felt warm and happy inside after that kiss. I wanted to make him happy. I wanted to jerk him off. Then he reached down, and slipped his fingers under my shorts, fingering my sopping spot.
“You’re so wet, Jasmine,” he grinned.
I had let this douchebag fucking rename me. Was I going to let him keep doing this? I should’ve just slapped him again.
But my hands were busy, pumping up and down his veiny length. He groaned with pleasure, I felt him twitch.
This guy had come in and ruined my life, in the span of a few short months. Why the FUCK was I giving him a hand job? Letting him kiss me?
Because my body liked it. That was the only reason. I was just giving myself a little pleasure after all these annoyances. I was taking pleasure for myself.
“Oh god, right there!” I whimpered. “Keep doing that right there!”
But he stopped, and didn’t let me cum. My breath was coming in ragged bursts.
“Don’t stop,” I said.
“Say please,” he said.
“Don’t stop, PLEASE,” I said, with soulful eyes. Happy now, asshole?
His fingers started moving inside me again. I bit my bottom lip. Then, he moaned again.
“I’m going to cum,” he said. “Keep going.”
A little rivulet of pre-cum streams down his cock first, warning of things to come. I grimaced a little, but I didn’t want Christoff to stop what he was doing with my pussy - I was pretty close myself.
“Nn, yes, that’s it, I’m gonna cum!” He announced. “Right- now!”
Fat bursts of hot cum spurted up like a geyser from his cock, running down my hands, getting everywhere. Yuck!
“Shit,” he said, breathing heavily. “Now you gotta clean that up.”
“Make me cum first!” I begged, gross cum dripping from my hand.
“Nah, I’m all done,” Christoff says, pulling his hand out and leaving me unsatisfied, and with his dripping white cum all over my hands.
Angrily, I grabbed a paper towel from the counter, and started cleaning up the mess on his pants, on my hands. Then, there’s the scent…
“So,” he said. “Is it as smelly as you thought?"
“It’s _gross,”_ I wrinkled my nose. “Disgusting.”
“That’s the cum of a true man,” he said. “Sperm. Seed.”
“I know the words for cum,” I sighed, still mad he didn’t get me off. I ran my hands under the faucet, rubbing in soap to make that bleachy smell go away. In honesty, it was more masculine than gross. It was musky. The reason I hated it is because I wanted to hate it.
“You’re still pretty horny,” he rightly guessed. “Go home and get yourself off.”
“Yes sir,” I said sarcastically, marching out.
This time, I didn’t need porn to cum. I just laid on my bed, naked, and cranked out the orgasm. I tried to tell myself I didn’t think about anything at all, but in truth, [[all I could think about was Christoff’s bitch-breakingly large cock.->page 11]] The next day, Christoff had some friends over his place to watch a football match.
“Not American football,” he said. “Real football. It would be nice if you could cook us something. Cook up a little snack today. Then I will consider your duties done.” He handed me a little apron, that said “kiss the cook.”
“I’m not wearing this,” I said.
“Suit yourself,” he shrugged.
But I wore it anyway, exasperated. I didn’t cook the boys anything fancy, just wrapped up some simple rice-paper dumplings I already had the ingredients for.
“You gotta try some of her iced tea too,” Christoff bragged to his friends.
This is all for the rent, I reminded myself, gritting my teeth as the guys enjoyed their meal and their game together. That night, he showed up at my apartment door, to hand me an envelope full of cash.
“You’re doing so well!” He said. “You’ll make it through the week easily. Here’s a little gift in good faith.”
“Thanks,” I took it, about to turn away.
“How are you feeling?” He asked before I could close the door.
“Fine,” I said. But in truth, I hadn’t cum yet. I was feeling horny.
“Want any help?” He grinned. “I promise I’ll let you cum this time.”
“No, I’ll manage on my own,” I said. Although this took way more effort to say than I thought it would. And some part of my protested, felt a sense of loss at this rejection.
“Alright,” he shrugged, turning away.
“W- well,” I stammered quickly. “If you can make it fast.”
“Good!” He said, coming into my apartment without so much as asking.
Silently, I lead him to my bedroom.
“Finally taking me to your love nest,” he grinned.
“I just need to get off,” I explained, stripping and getting onto the bed. "Just finger me. No dick."
<div class="center_pic"><video src='https://x-change.life/projects/moratorium/finger.mp4' autoplay='' loop='' muted='' playsinline/></div>
He assessed my sweaty, needy little body, running his finger over my ass. Then poking it between my folds. As much as I hated to admit it, my body really could tell the difference. When a _man_ was doing something to me, my body was practically lit on fire with pleasure.
When Christoff played with my pussy with his big, rough fingers. Well. It was good.
"Try working the clit," I moaned.
“‘Try working the clit’,” he echoed with humour, wiping my juices from his chin. “You’re really learning your terminology.”
“Please just make me cum,” I practically begged.
And he did. I screamed a blissful orgasm dirrectly into the pillow. A trip through time and space, to a feminine sort of heaven made of pink cotton candy.
“OH my goddd!!!” I whimpered in the throes of it. My legs shook violently, and I squirted all over his fingers. Christoff laughed at me when I did…
“You’re a messy girl,” he laughed. “Only the dirtiest girls cum like that.”
“Is that so?” I gasp, lying back in bed. I have this feeling like I should ask him to cuddle, but of course I won’t. “Ok, I came. Not, please get out.”
[[He was gone without another word.->page 12]]The next morning, I thought about how my pussy felt when it was aroused. It was trying to tell me something. It didn’t just want someone to pleasure it, it wanted to be filled. By a big, hard cock namely. Fingers were nice and all... but they weren't what was really supposed to go there.
HowEVER, I wasn’t going to let that happen. In fact, last night’s cumming had instilled in me this new sort of resolve.
I was _not_ going to give up any more moral ground to Christoff. I was going to finish out these 7 days doing the bare minimum of what he wanted me to do, and that was going to be it. I wasn’t going to turn into his little slut, if that’s what he thought was going to happen.
So what, if I had a lot of hormones? A lot of urges? They were just physical sensations. Christoff and I both knew that.
“Come food shopping with me,” was today’s request. “I need someone to show me around an American grocery store.”
“So you need a Vietnamese girl to show you,” I said, sarcastically.
“Ha!” He said. “Good, you think of yourself as a girl.”
“I am a girl, for now,” I just shrugged. “Do you think that is some kind of ‘gotcha’ moment?”
“I think you’re accepting your new role,” he said. “Now, show me what Americans buy.”
I still was not really sure what he expected out of this grocery store trip. If anything, we just looked like a couple, pushing a cart around together. He kept giving me playful spanks every now and again, but I was pretty used to those by this point.
When we got home, he even helped me unload the groceries and put them away. It’s sad that I was shocked by his good behaviour, I suppose.
“You’re fun to be around when you’re not pretentious, Jasmine,” he told me. “When you’re not worrying yourself about silly things like money.”
“Oh shit!” I said suddenly. “I forgot to pay the electricity bill! One sec.” I started to dart for the door, to go back to my own apartment. I had never missed a payment, and wasn’t about to make a habit of it.
“Just wait a moment and help me here,” Christoff says. “Then you can go.”
“You can put the rest away yourself,” I say. “Come on. This is important.”
He unzipped his pants, letting his cock flop out. “I’m talking about this,” he said. “I loved watching you shop today. Being so fun. You got this little guy quite excited.”
My face was bright red. “I’m not your personal relief slave.”
“That’s what you think,” he winked. “But I think you’ll like the job.”
“Ha,” I said, walking over to him and grasping his warm erection.
“No,” he said, putting his hand on my shoulder. “Your mouth.”
“I’m not giving you a blowjob,” I made a face. “I’m not putting my face down there.”
“Hey hey hey,” he said. “Remember what I did for you last night?”
“It’s different,” I said. “I j- just, I don’t know.” It was another layer of humiliation to actually put my mouth on his fucking junk. Right? Or am I the only one who thinks that is like way beyond a handjob?
“You think it’s too degrading, to bring your lips down to my big white cock, and suck me off huh?” He grinned at your obvious discomfort with these words.
Then he reached down and pushed on my shoulders again, nudging me slowly down onto my knees.
<div class="top_right_pic"><img class='greyborder'
src='https://x-change.life/projects/moratorium/consider.jpg' width=100% height=auto></div> _What am I doing?_
My face was inches away from this gross monstrosity. Reaching both my hands around him, I started pumping. He felt so good in my hands, I hated myself for it.
“Now, your mouth,” he demands, putting a hand on the back of my head.
Should I just do it?
I closed my eyes, reaching out my tongue for that first taste of cock. A part of me really, really wanted this. Another part…
“No!” I said suddenly. “No, I’m not doing it! I’m not sucking you of! This is gross!”
I ran back to my room, and Christoff didn’t stop me. I just left him there, dick hanging out.
The next day, I didn’t say anything to him, and he didn’t say anything to me. I didn’t do much job searching, just mainly watched porn and masturbating. I must have cum at least four times that day. Each one really intense, each one digging a deeper well of dissatisfaction for me.
That asshole. That oaf. That buffoon. Holding out on my rent. Making me do stuff. Thinking I would just suck him off. Put his COCK in my MOUTH. If he thought that was going to happen, well, [[he had another thing coming.->page 13]]The next day, I masturbated 6 times. It was starting to get exhausting. Starting to get perceptibly less satisfying each time. Pretty soon, I felt that I was going to be bedridden, just lying there, fingers buried in my sopping wet cunt.
This couldn’t go on. I knew it. Christoff probably knew it.
I knocked on his door.
“What do you want me to do today?” I blurted.
He just stared at me, quietly. And then went wordlessly inside, siting down on his couch.
“I just feel so empty,” I said.
“I told you why,” he said. “You’re not listening.”
“I’m… ready to listen,” I said. “Just, don’t humiliate me anymore. I’ll play along, ok?”
“Then suck my cock,” he said.
Heart pounding, I sat down next to him. I unzipped his pants myself. I reached into his underwear, and fished out his throbbing cock. I spit on it. I took a while to just stare at it, admiring the vein patterns. The manly magnificence.
“Time to start,” he said.
I leaned down, taking him into my mouth. He was half-flaccid, but he still stretched my lips wide open. But the thing I noticed the most was the taste. The overwhelming saltiness, and virility of him.
“Did you… shower?” I sputtered, coming up for air after a few licks.
“No,” he grinned. “Now, get back to work.”
My head went back down, dutifully. I sucked his cock. My head bobbed up and down. I opened my mouth as wide as it could go, allowing his fat glans to bump against the back of my throat. My slobber got all over it, my little asian mouth not able to properly handle this big bitch-wrecking sausage.
<div class="center_pic"><video src='https://x-change.life/projects/moratorium/bj.mp4' autoplay='' loop='' muted='' playsinline/></div>
“Good,” he said. “More.” I felt his hands rest on the back of my head.
I did my best, I really did. But I just couldn’t fit that much of him in my mouth. I tried to do that thing they do in porn where the girl lets the cock go down her throat, but I just immediately gagged. I am not some kind of pornstar.
Without so much as a word, Christoff lifted me into the air, and carried me to his bed.
“What are you…” I started to ask.
“Shush,” he said, pulling off my pants. “I am taking what’s mine.”
We both knew I wanted this, I wasn’t going to deny it. The French guy took his cock in his own hands, and crouched over me on the bed. His dick was shiny with my spit.
[[“I’m going to take your virginity,” he said, lining his cock-tip up with my entrance.->page 14]]“Aa- ANNGH!” I whimpered as he thrust his pelvis forward with full force. Just like that, he impaled me with 11 inches of pussy-destroying cock. “OOHh goddddd….”
What followed, was meaty slaps and a rhythmic beating of my tight, wet hole into full submission.
He fucked me like he owned me. But he didn’t… right?
<div class="center_pic"><video src='https://x-change.life/projects/moratorium/fuck.mp4' autoplay='' loop='' muted='' playsinline/></div>
With each thrust of his cock, my body rebelled against everything I was telling it. It welcomed him in, wanted him to dominate me fully. I screamed and mewled in orgasmic bliss.
I was pretty pathetic...
Christoff made me ride on top for a while, enjoying the view of my jiggling tits as I impaled myself on his shaft, again and again. My groans and gasps of pleasure shook the ceiling of the unit, which I technically owned.
He flipped me into doggystyle position, slapping my ass hard as he took me from behind.
“Your transformation is almost complete, Jasmine,” he whispered in my ear. I came so hard that my brain couldn’t hold words inside it, so I just moaned in reply. I didn’t know what he meant.
And then, suddenly, I was flipped onto my back. Time stood still. He was there, over me, looking down at me. I was looking up at him, an expression of subdued pleasure on my face. He was jerking his cock. I had cum four or five times, and I was thoroughly exhausted. These orgasms had been the most intense ones I had ever felt, and I was fairly certain my own masturbation would never suffice again.
“Now is the time...” Christoff grinned. “When I make you my bitch.”
The words didn’t mean anything to me. My eyes were rolling back in my head. He gave me a little pat on my cheek, then a tap, then a slap. With his cock.
That shook me to my senses a little. I looked up, confused.
“Once I cum on your face, you will never be a man again.”
I whimpered a little, brain neurons misfiring.
“Hold still,” he said, as his beating off reached a feverish pace. [[“Nnngh- nnn!!! Stupid slut!”->page 15]]<div class="top_right_pic"><video src='https://x-change.life/projects/moratorium/facial.mp4' autoplay='' loop='' muted='' playsinline/></div>I watched his dick-tip blankly, as it erupted with heavy spurts of cum. Christoff sprayed wet, sticky ropes of seed directly into my face.
Marking me as his territory, his property. I was stunned as he continued to empty his balls all over my lips. I tasted his semen, heavy and musky. Bleachy and salty. Thick and goopy.
“Hahaha,” he laughed, pulling out his phone for a picture of my absolutely ruined face. “That’s one way to shut you up. No more 'oh Christoff, please pay me my rent'! Well bitch, this is your rent.”
My life was never the same after that. My "tenant" never kept up his end of the bargain, as he had decided that I was going to be his little cocksleeve forever. That I had given up all leverage in the situation.
I ended up selling one of my two apartments - but not Christoff’s, I sold _mine._
...yeah. I moved in with him.
He's pretty clear on the fact that I'm not his girlfriend. I'm basically a house-maid with benefits. And no, I have NO IDEA why that turned me on so much.
My parents were ashamed when they found out. I sort of get it. I mean, they had all these high hopes for me. And here I was, a slave to a French guy's cock.
Anyhow, I had some advice, but now I forget what it was. If you'll excuse me, I have a task I need to get to.
<div class="center_pic"><img class='greyborder'
src='https://x-change.life/projects/moratorium/the end.jpg' width=100% height=auto></div>