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In due time, he had cinched the laces down to the stops. He had a literally breath-taking exaggerated hourglass figure. The lacy shelf cups lifted his provocative boobies and pushed them together, giving him a deep, luscious cleavage. The heavy steel boning compressed his waist and spread out his hips and tush even fuller, just like his sexpot mother's.

Stockings were next on the agenda. Alex knew which drawer held his mama's hosiery. His target tonight was a pair of sheer black full-fashioned stockings with reinforced toes, French heels and back seams. They fit his long, shapely legs like a gentle caress. Using the palms of his hands, he adjusted the flimsy material so his back seams were arrow-straight. He had taken his time with the pedicure the night before, making sure it turned out just right. As he had hoped, his ruby-red polished toenails with gold nail art and gold toe rings were just visible through the dark, reinforced toe of his stockings.

The budding 'bad girl' opted not to don panties, as they would "just get in the way for a girl like me." He had read that phrase in several Internet porn stories and it had always made him hot. With his little cock tucked safely away inside his tightly-restrictive, yet oh-so-alluring pussy pants, he presented a tantalizing hint of a mons under his otherwise flat front. The folds of the inner and outer labia looked amazingly life-like, and the tip of his little thing was perfectly positioned where his 'clitty' should be. The bizarre garment was open in back, allowing access to his wet, inviting 'love canal'.

He sat down at his mother's vanity table, opened the drawers to locate the appropriate cosmetics and accessories he would need to make up his pretty face. The MAC logo on the small boutique bag captured his attention immediately. Was this the same makeup his mother had used to make up his face that Saturday afternoon? Browsing the bag's contents, he realized it was, and would be exactly the right 'look' to bring his fantasy to life. Alex knew the routine well. He had spied on his mother at first while she did her makeup. He had then studied makeup techniques through books and videos he had purchased on Amazon. Then he practiced in his bathroom whenever he knew he wouldn't be disturbed, honing his skills.

There was one effect in particular he truly adored. He had seen it several times on the Internet, downloaded the pictures and enjoyed them in private. His mother had even done the look on occasion, especially when enacting her 'hooker' persona. It was risky; there might be recriminations the next day. Alex now taped one of those downloaded pictures to his mirror for reference. With pounding heart, he took a pair of tweezers to his eyebrows and began plucking. He would deal with the fallout if and when it happened; nothing was going to spoil this night from being perfect.

At last he achieved the desired effect; his forehead was smooth and hair-free. He applied a light coat of foundation, blending it in evenly with a wedge-shaped sponge. Using a large brush, he set the base with a light dusting of translucent finishing powder, giving him a flawless, glowing complexion. Alex then applied a pair of thick, curly false eyelashes with an ease born of practice. To be daring, he added a pair of lower lashes to heighten the dramatic effect.

Using the picture as a guide, He penciled in exotically-high, razor-thin, sharply-angled brow lines. His hours of practice showed; he got exactly the right look on his first attempt. Continuing in the 'hooker' vein, he brushed a heavy application of Cobalt Blue shadow into his lids, extending it upward and outward towards the corners of his eyes. Using a fine brush, he applied a thin line of blue under his lower lash line, extending it along the rim to meet the previously applied shadow. He added shimmering pearlescent white highlights below the brows, blending the contrasting colors together into a smooth, gradual transition from dark to light.

Wide swaths of black liquid eyeliner traced his upper and lower lash lines, extending beyond the corners of his sapphire eyes into sharp points. A careful application of black mascara expertly melded his own lashes into those he had applied, framing his bewitching eyes in rich, ebony fur.

A dusky rose blush with pearlescent highlights accentuated his naturally-high, prominent cheekbones. He outlined his plush, pouty lips in burgundy, smudging the lines into his lip flesh to soften the look. He filled in with dark, luscious Ruby Red, then added a coat of clear, wet-look gloss to make his oh-so-kissable mouth glisten like real rubies.

In homage to the hairstyling 'tip' his mother had taught him, he bent forward, allowing his long, thick, flowing pale blonde hair to cascade over his head, touching the floor. He brushed it out, spraying liberally with lots of sweet, sticky hair spray. Then he snapped upright, flinging his hair over his head. He teased it out even more, then locked the full, fluffy mane in place with even more hair spray. She hadn't shown him that part, that day at the arcade, but he had watched her style her own hair in that fashion several times before and since. He would have loved to have a big, fluffy, curly perm, but this would do nicely for tonight. So little of 'Alex' remained, he noted, gazing dreamily into the mirror. The best was yet to come.

His heart leapt; his dream dress - a butter-soft black lambskin bustier minidress - hung on a hanger from the hook inside his mother's closet door. He and his mother had seen it, and the companion black calfskin motorcycle-style jacket now hanging on the hanger behind it, in the window of a high-end specialty leatherwear shop the afternoon they had gotten their piercings. This was the dress his mother had teased would "look so sexy on him." He had been captivated by it then, hoping his quiet gulp and trembling weren't noticeable.

When it had shown up in her closet soon after, he had been ecstatic, guessing his mother had been as enthralled with it as he. What had been a hazy, soft-focus image of what he would wear, how he would appear on this special night, instantly sharpened into crystal clarity. This was The One; it set the tone for the 'look' and persona he would assume.

That the dress, jacket and corset had all been left out made sense; Alex had instinctively known the three were meant to be a complete outfit. It was confirmation his mother had considered wearing the ensemble that night, then chosen another. What a break for him! He gazed longingly at the dress for a moment, running his fingertips reverently down the smooth, supple hide. Then he removed it from its hanger, unzipped the back zip, and wriggled into it.

It took so long to work the tighter-than-tight creation over his enhanced curves, then zip the zipper closed. Seeing his form in the full-length closet mirror, he knew he had gotten it right; what he saw before him truly did justice to the exotic, erotic slutwear. The dress's bodice barely concealed his protruding nipples and areolas, exposing cleavage a porn star would envy. The back rose only to the shoulder blades, just covering the upper edge of the corset. The snug handspan waist flowed into full, wide hips and a firm, round bubble butt. The hemline ended above mid-thigh; short enough to reveal his stocking tops, garters, and a flash of creamy thigh if he sat or moved the right way, yet was restrictive enough to hobble his gait.

A special dress required a special pair of shoes. They sat before him on the closet floor, right in front; black calfskin ankle-strap sandals with rapier-thin six-inch stiletto heels. These shoes had no platform soles; the wearer was subjected to the full effects of the sky-high heels. Although they had appeared in his mother's closet long before the dress and jacket, they were the perfect compliment; one more indication this outfit had been one of his mother's options tonight. That she had chosen not to wear it was very likely because of these same shoes. Alex knew full well the extreme arch of the feet and legs imparted by the fetish footwear inflicted severe pain and cramping to the inexperienced wearer. Only the most dedicated and foot-trained high-heel devotee would enjoy the experience to the fullest.

Alex was exactly that. He had been practicing in those shoes since they had first appeared, refining the short, sure-footed heel-toe-heel-toe gate, swiveling his hips in an exaggerated fashion, keeping his back straight, head up and shoulders back, as dictated by the fabulous fetish footwear. He donned them now, shivering just a bit as he wrapped the thin straps behind his heels, then around his trim ankles and buckled them in place. For the umpteenth time, he marveled at how all his mother's footwear were so perfectly mated to his feet. The tightly-laced corset was a godsend! It kept his posture firmly erect, making it easier to navigate on those extreme heels.

The jewelry was next. A quarter-inch ring sat atop each ear. A row of four similar rings snaked down the outer edges. A one inch loop, nestled against a thin, attention-grabbing four-inch hoop, filled out each earlobe. The small diamond in his right nostril sparkled in the soft lighting. Within his mouth, the gold ball flashed as he moved his tongue.

Neck chains followed; eight of them, in progressively-longer lengths, arranged in a cascade that dipped into his cleavage, calling attention to his prolific pulchritude. A like number of heavy gold bangle bracelets were slipped onto each dainty wrist, where they would jangle musically as he walked. His mother had a treasure trove of rings in her jewelry armoire. He slipped delicate gold rings on each of his fingers and thumbs. The final piece was a slender gold chain which he double-wrapped around his trim left ankle, signifying he was 'available'.

Then came another of those special touches that would set him apart from so-called 'respectable' women, identifying him as a true slut. He had found the site on the Internet. The nail technician who operated the business offered custom-made press-on nails to order; anything from mild to wild. Alex had opted for the latter, and now laid out a perfect set of two-inch, curving, square-tipped talons, polished Ruby Red with glittering gold nail art.

The instructions called for an adhesive tab or a single drop of Crazy Glue for each nail if the wearer only wanted the nails to hold for an evening's revelry. Alex didn't see how that could possibly be secure enough. He applied a thin sheen of the super-strong adhesive to each nail before pressing it onto the appropriate nail bed and held it in place until the glue set, taking care not to get any excess on his fingertips or the nails themselves. He was amazed how ultra-feminine they made his small hands and long, slender fingers look.

He now spritzed himself with his Mother's Obsession; behind each ear, at his throat, in his cleavage, on the inside of both wrists and behind his knees. He then spritzed the air above his head and allowed it to settle over him in a fine mist, just as he had seen his mother do. Beholding his image in the mirror, he could see no trace of 'Alex' at all; 'Alexis' was born, full-grown and ready to play.

She had fetched the black calfskin clutch purse from the closet along with the shoes. Anticipating a future need, she now filled it with the makeup items she had used to transform her face, plus wintergreen breath strips, her mother's purse-sized Obsession spritzer, companion hair spritzer and brush. She also selected a pack of her mother's Eve 120 cigarettes from the carton in her mother's dresser, plus a butane lighter and slipped both into her purse.

She then put everything away and cleaned up the vanity. Rising to her feet, she sashayed expertly to the closet, fetched the jacket from its hanger and slipped it on, leaving it unzipped with the halves of the wide waist belt dangling for effect. At last, she was ready!

She admired her reflection in the full-length closet door mirror for a time, turning this way and that, then decided to indulge herself a little. Making her way downstairs, she slinked sensually into the recreation room, turned on only the low-wattage 'party lights' behind the bar, then laid her purse on the counter. Stepping over to the entertainment unit, she turned on the stereo, found a station playing an extended Techno party mix, then stepped out into the middle of the room and danced sexily to the hypnotic beat, arms raised gracefully over her head.

After a while, she left the 'dance floor' and made her way back to the bar. Pouring a generous amount of Scotch in a rocks glass, she added a splash of soda - her mother's favorite drink - then sidled around to the front of the bar, perched delicately on her high-backed stool, crossing one leg over the other with a subtle rasp of stocking-on-stocking, which sent a little chill up her spine. She lit a cigarette, then held it aloft in her upturned arm. As she admired herself in the mirror behind the bar, she took in the ambience of the 'night club' and imagined the conversations she had with the men who were even then coming on to her.

She sipped her Scotch, then took a drag on her cigarette, noting the traces of lipstick on the filter and how sensual the slender white cylinder looked in her feminine, ruby-talon-ed hand. Soon, the powerful liquor went to her head, bringing everything around her into soft-focus. 'I guess I forgot about dinner, didn't I?' she mused contentedly. 'Maybe Tommy will save me a slice or two of pizza; I could have it for lunch tomorrow.'

As good as this evening was turning out, she felt vaguely empty. Was this all there was? She hoped not; she wanted more. A chain-of-association thought led her back to her 'working girl' ruminations. Alexis contemplated going out, actually stepping outside the door, maybe going for a little walk. A hooker in this neighborhood? That would be scandalous! What if Tommy Bradley was looking out his bedroom window at that moment and saw her strutting her stuff on the sidewalk? She still hadn't confided a word of this to him - and with good reason.

'Poor Tommy', she mused. 'He means well, but he is still such a child. If he saw me, his hormones would kick into overdrive - and he wouldn't have a clue how to approach me. He would probably jerk off, watching me through his window. Wouldn't it be a trip if I rang his doorbell right now and asked him to invite me in?'

Alexis giggled at the absurdity of her own argument. Tommy was still such a child? They were the same age! Still, the lurid 'ingénue' felt she had aged an eon since first discovering her parents' private predilections. Tommy was too young for her, she decided. She wanted a real man, just like her mama.

What would she do if, while walking down the street, a car slowed, pulling to the curb next to her? Could she find it within herself to sashay up to the window, lean down, smile, flash her boobies and ask the driver if he was looking for a 'date', as she had read in all those Internet stories? Little Alexis with the big tits; a real hooker at last! The thought was tempting; oh, so tempting...

"Lookin' good, Girlfriend!"

Startled, Alexis sat bolt upright. In the mirror, she caught the reflection of her mother - in the company of four very large, well-muscled Black men. 'Alexis' was so busted! If she hadn't been more than a little buzzed, she might have tried to make a dash for the stairs, then her room, slammed the door and sat with her back against it, pretending the whole thing was just a bizarre delusion on their part - and hers. Yet the setting, her attire and makeup, plus the power of the alcohol, nicotine and her own fantasies conspired to envelop her in a warm, comforting cloak of inevitability. It was too late - much too late. She couldn't pretend she wasn't sitting here, looking the way she did. She couldn't outrun their eyes, much less their feet; therefore, she wouldn't try. How did the lyrics to that old song go? It's time to "face the music and dance." How appropriate!

Buoyed by liquid courage, she swiveled her stool to face her appraisers, took a deep drag on her cigarette, then exhaled it towards the ceiling, smiling a small, bemused smile.

Her mother approached her, a smirk on her lips. Alexis' heart caught in her throat. Stephanie – 'Jasmine', as she had called herself earlier – had indeed affected the 'working girl' image and persona Alexis loved so much. The more mature woman was spilling out of a glistening red latex minidress with long, off-the-shoulder sleeves, a deeply-scooped neckline and hemline as short as Alexis' own. Black fishnet stockings hugged her shapely legs all the way to her red patent sandals with two-inch platforms and seven-inch stiletto heels. Her makeup and hair were every bit as provocative as that of the other 'hooker' in the room. The outfit was topped by a matching waist-length red latex motorcycle jacket, alluringly open like Alexis'.

Once reaching Alexis' side, she gave the younger version of herself a long, lingering once-over, lovingly drinking in every luscious detail. Noting the drink on the bar, as well as the cigarette held daintily aloft, the twinkle in her eyes and smile on her lips cranked up another notch.

"Lookin' very, very good indeed!" she murmured appreciatively. "I'm Jasmine, and you are...?"

"Alexis," the younger woman filled in.

"Of course!" the elder woman intoned. "It suits you perfectly. It's so lovely to meet you, Alexis. May I call you 'Lexie'?"

"Uh, sure."

"May my friends and I... join you?"

Without waiting for a reply, 'Jasmine' slid onto the stool next to her 'sistah', lit a cigarette, and smiled alluringly. Her four 'friends' filled in the space around the pair. She snaked her arm around the man hovering at her left shoulder and drew him closer to her. He had a monumental bulge making its presence known inside his pants. Jasmine massaged it suggestively with her free hand.

"David here is my main man tonight. We... hooked up downtown. Know what I mean? Anyway, it turns out he has these three really sexy friends. This is Robert, Leo, and William. Boys, say hello to Lexie."

They exchanged greetings. Lexie shivered in anticipation as the four men sized her up like wolves to prey.

"David was wondering if I could fix them up with some of my friends, so we could all party? Well, I was kinda strapped; none of my usual girls were available on such short notice. It was looking like I would have to take them on all by myself."

"Wha-what are you doing here?" Lexie stammered out.

"Why, I came for you, of course," Jasmine revealed matter-of-factly. "I suddenly remembered; I had a really special girlfriend with very special qualities who was home all alone tonight, and she just might be up for a little party..."

Lexie gave an involuntary start. She knew? Jasmine leaned forward and whispered into the younger girl's ear.

"I see you found your birthday present. Do you like it? It looks fabulous on you - just as I said it would!"

Lexie's eyes grew as big as saucers. Her companion chuckled at her discomfort.

"Yes, you certainly are a big girl now," Jasmine complimented. "All grown up and ready to party with me and my friends, just like I knew you would be. Baby, I have already collected a thousand dollars from each of them. We are bought and paid for; their 'bottom bitches,' to do with however they choose all night long. Doesn't that sound like fun?"

As if on cue, two strong, yet gentle pairs of hands began caressing the leather-clad lovely. In her alcohol-fueled state, Lexie shivered with delight.

"I have already rented a room down on the Boulevard where we can get more... comfortable," Jasmine briefed. "After that, who knows? The night is young and so are we. So, let's get this party started!"