Trixie Dicks: Who is Trixie Dicks?

Nick Johnson, Investment Banker. That's what it had said on his door. The bank he worked for had been doing well, and his accounts had contributed to that. He was well liked at work, and his good looks and charisma certainly helped.

Nick was taller than most, at almost seven feet tall. He was handsome and winsome and lucky in love. Everyone wanted to be like Nick, except for the people who really knew Nick.

Nick was a fraudster. He and his partners had sold fraudulent loans to unfortunate businesses. The contracts for these loans required the businesses to pay an equity, which was supposed to de-risk the loan for the bank. The bank never saw a penny of the equity, however, and the contracts that were filed never mentioned it. Millions of dollars changed hands, and Nick and his partners pocketed the lot.

Nick was the face of the con. He could sell ice to a polar bear. He was the kind of guy who could persuade you that you wanted him to screw your wife, and that it was your idea to have her suck your cock while you paid him. And he used it to his advantage.

Sometimes, he offered a business a loan just to get into the CEOs wife's pants. On one particular occasion, he was on the phone apologising to the CEO for not being able to make a meeting because something last minute came up, while the CEOs wife was sucking his cock and the CEO walked in as his wife was swallowing Nick's load.

The account was signed the next day while the CEO watched Nick plough his wife over his desk.

In the end, however, that's how they got caught. One such cucked husband backed out of the deal at the last minute, which triggered an investigation into the paperwork for that loan. When that paperwork didn't add up, previous loans were checked, and all of the dominoes started to fall.

Nick had fucked one wife too many, and now Nick was fucked. Not only was this criminal, it was widespread, and Nick Johnson's name was all over it. He and his partners had defrauded the businesses of some dangerous people. Criminals, gangsters, mafiosi. His partners weren't in line for any of that. They were faceless, silent, unknown. Nick's name was all over it, and at almost seven feet tall, Nick's strikingly handsome body was, for the first time ever, a disadvantage. He was the definition of an easy target. When the FBI came calling, Nick didn't have much choice. He threw his partners under the bus.

The Feds put Nick in witness protection. He was given a new identity, Jimmy Short, and moved to a new state. Perfect, right?

Wrong. Nick knew that the FBI was in the Mafia's pockets, and that it was only a matter of time before they sold him out. While Nick was Jimmy, he knew that there would ever be a moment where he wasn't looking over his shoulder.

It wasn't just the mafia who would be looking for him, though, so witness protection was still better than nothing. At least it would take time for most gangs to find him. Longer if he played his cards right.

And he was already working on a plan. He had skimmed millions off the top even before his setback. They were scattered in secret investments around the world, all under fake names and non-existant businesses. It would be risky to try to gather them, but they were his, and he wasn't about to let the millions he had worked for slip away. He would have to disappear. Like really disappear.

He couldn't do it immediately, though. The FBI would be watching him. "Jimmy" would have to at least look like he was trying to assimilate into his new neighborhood. Like he was an average Joe.

That's when "Jimmy" met his neighbors Sam and Bobby. Sam had olive skin and short dark hair. At around six feet, Sam was the taller of the two. Bobby had shoulder length curly blonde hair and was about a head shorter. They were married, living together, and they were both gay men.

Nick would never hang out with gay men. He wasn't anti-LGBTQ-whatever. He had even had men suck his dick. Usually after he had screwed their wives, or before, during, whatever, the point is that he didn't have it out for gay guys. It just wasn't to his advantage to socialize with them. He didn't want to fuck them or their partners. What's more, there was a sort of... awareness about many of them, they had been through shit and didn't fall prey easily in his experience. Some did, but a high proportion were savvy. Worse, when they got in trouble, there was a community looking out for them. A community with political clout. Too much risk, too little reward. Nick wouldn't have looked twice, which was why "Jimmy" had to.

Having looked him up and down, the two feigned disappointment at his assertion that he was straight. "Jimmy" turned on the charm, and soon had insinuated his way into their confidence.

Sam and Bobby's place, it turned out, was party central. There was a party there almost every two weeks, and there were all kinds of people there. Gay men, lesbians, bisexuals, straight people, all kinds. For the first month, Nick frequently found himself being approached by gay men. Soon, however, word got around that he wasn't on the market for gay guys, and women started to come his way. Nick would have screwed all of them, but "Jimmy" wasn't supposed to act like Nick. He was a single man, however, so he rarely turned down a chance to get involved with bisexual girls. He realized that the dynamic was often the same as with cuckolds, where one part of the couple was more interested in him than the other.

Nick "accidentally" donated his seed for more than one lesbian couple to have a child. However, that all stopped when he met one particularly striking person, Holly.

Holly was a transsexual. She was born as Harry, and had fully transitioned into a female some years back. Nick was surprised to find that he was attracted to her. Sexually, yes, but there was also a strange kind of attraction. Not his usual, self indulgent hyper-sexual lust. Something more cerebral. He wanted to explore her, to learn about her, he wanted to know her.

"Jimmy" was still strikingly beautiful. He was approached by every newcomer and some familiar faces at every party Sam and Bobby threw. With only a very few exceptions, as soon as he met Holly, he was off the market. Each of those exceptions somehow involved Holly, for instance she insisted that he help out a lesbian couple who wanted a baby. They visited him daily and took turns eating each other out while he fucked them raw. They both fell pregnant after a few weeks.

"Jimmy" had been living next door to Sam and Bobby for a little over eighteen months when there was a huge house fire, followed by a gas explosion. Unidentified remains were found in the wreckage of the house, and that was the end of "Jimmy".

Nick had staged his death after some Italian gentlemen had been at Sam and Bobby's party, and he'd heard a familiar story about a wise guy's wife falling pregnant to a tall conman. He was sad to leave Holly behind, but she was the inspiration for the next part of his plan. He had to disappear, so he was always planning on getting plastic surgery and a fake birth certificate. All that had changed was the type of surgery and the name on the birth certificate. Nick Johnson was no more. Trixie Dicks was born.

Trixie was seven feet and three inches tall in her heels. She had 36DD breasts, and a fine ass. She was blonde and beautiful and she dressed to impress.

She had researched the man she was about to meet thoroughly. He was perfect for the job she had in mind. He would spend his working hours gathering her money. The rest of his time, he'd be her devoted lover.

Harmon was a stock broker who had had limited luck or more likely poor skill. He had been investigated for insider trading, but the investigation had found nothing concrete. It was a safe bet that he had had a lucky escape, and Trixie was going to use that against him.

She met him under the pretence that he would be doing some brokerage work for her, but she could immediately tell that he was cowed by her presence. He was the perfect weak willed lackey.

She laid down the law, giving him just enough flirtatious body language that he might think he had a chance, while completely dominating the poor man. Trixie's stature threw him onto his back foot immediately, and she kept him there with her body language and the occasional unexpected contact.

She started with small, seemingly safe tasks, like moving money from an account which she had secure access to into another account in her name. Eventually, however, he was using fake documents to get money from free port countries and move it tax free into nameless holding accounts, all for a measly fifteen percent.

Meanwhile, she also led him on romantically. She made him pay for lunches and drinks, nights out and taxis, always standing close, touching him, hugging and kissing him without actually promising anything.

Fifteen percent of the fortune was more than he dreamed of earning, and with it a chance to bag the hottest girl that he'd ever laid eyes on. The risk was certainly worth it, in his mind. He never knew the real danger.

When Trixie decided that Harmon was sufficiently trapped, she decided to sink the final nail. It wasn't hard to persuade Harmon that the Michelin star dinner was his idea. The poor fool even paid for it. She let him drive her home, and on the way, she teased him, touching his leg, his inner thigh, whispering in his ear, stopping just short of grabbing his cock.

She kissed him outside her door and pushed his face into her breasts. He was rock hard, and he wasn't thinking very much at all when he was led into her bedroom.

She allowed him to take off her top, and remove her bra. He marvelled at her perky tits, and while his face was buried in them, she lifted her skirt and unstrapped her huge cock.

As Harmon started to work his way down, he somehow didn't notice the huge appendage that was about to dominate his thoughts Until he was eye to eye with it. The shock of it was debilitating. It took him a few moments to understand what he was seeing, a few more to react by pulling away, and a few more to realise the strength of Trixie's hands on the back of his head. He stuttered and stalled, but he was trapped and, he realised, still aroused.

"Suck it, Harmon," Trixie ordered, "or all of this comes to an end."

Trixie had planned this well, and her phone was recording from the moment Harmon's resolve broke. The video footage would forever show that Harmon had willingly taken the transsexual's cock into his mouth and started to suck.

Trixie wasn't all that surprised when Harmon started to get into it. She had researched her man well. She had been sure that he was closeted, and this was her confirmation. He actually had his hand in his pants at one point. Harmon wasn't aware just how much he was enjoying it until he felt the dribble of discharge from his own penis.

His technique was about as good as Trixie had expected from someone who had never sucked a dick before, never even considered it, but he was more enthusiastic than she expected.

The money shot was an important part of Trixie's plan, but at this rate, she was never going to cum, so she eventually put one hand on the back of Harmon's head and tested his gag reflex. Seeing the smaller man choke and gag made Trixie feel empowered, and she was tempted to fuck his face hard, but she didn't want to give him any more reason to resist.

The power she had over him, however, was too much to resist completely, though, and she pushed his head down as often as she felt she could get away with. Once, she even felt her cock pass the threshold of Harmon's virgin throat.

"Use your hands," she told him, holding his head in place. Both hands came up and took hold of Trixie's cock. He was already reeling, but feeling the difference in size between this cock and his own was something that he would always remember.

Trixie thought that she was going to have to show Harmon how to stroke his big cock, but Harmon's hands were moving before Trixie said a word. She pushed his head in time with the inexpert hands. Harmon seemed to be accustomed to the gagging now, and Trixie was getting deeper, pushing her luck with every thrust. One last deep thrust, pushing Harmon's head hard into her body. She could feel the barrier in his throat give way, and although the smaller man gagged and choked, he knew that he would soon be willingly throating Trixie.

That's when the taste of Trixie's cum filled his mouth. He gagged once more, as pulled away from the spurting cock. Trixie made sure to spray the smaller man's face with his cum, still recording every second. Harmon didn't know why his mouth was opened wide, but Trixie didn't want any more of her cum in his mouth today. When she stopped spurting, Harmon's face and hair were matted with Trixie's pent up load.

"Lick it clean," Trixie ordered. Harmon hesitated, but it was too late to go back now, her taste was already in his mouth.

As Harmon's tongue touched the softening glans of the girl's cock, she snapped a photo and sent it to Harmon's phone.

"You and I are going to be married in six months, Harmon," she told him. "And if you do what I say, maybe I'll let you suck my cock again."

Harmon nodded. He couldn't speak, and he was too scared and aroused to protest.

Harmon and Trixie moved into the neighborhood looking like a professional young couple. They made friends with the neighbors and invited them to their upcoming wedding. They lied about the retail business that they ran, and they lied about how they'd met. They didn't lie about Trixie's Dick, because no one ever asked. Why would they? Trixie's surgeon had worked wonders, and Holly had taught her about the diet and bodicing and how to conceal a dick. No one could tell that she had ever been anything but female.

Trixie wasn't new to being strikingly beautiful. She wasn't new to being charming and charismatic. She wasn't new to having both sexes attracted to her. She was, however, new to the world of bitchy women.

She wasn't naive. She knew that they'd be bitching. Those months with Sam and Bobby had taught her some things. Gay guys can be just as bitchy. And all those husbands' heads she was turning would put her at the top of the bitching order.

Nick had been a ruthless bastard, he would often spy on his targets. Trixie knew where to get audio bugs that were almost invisible and easy to plant, so she instructed Harmon to buy them.

Over the next few weeks, the bugs were planted in the cars, kitchens, bedrooms and gathering places of the neighborhood. Trixie was doing most of the planting, but showing Harmon the tricks when she could, because there were places he would be more likely to go than her. Car garages, wood sheds and so on. Trixie was nothing if not thorough.

Every evening, Trixie would set her phallus free, and Harmon would crawl under her desk and "nurse" it. He would run his fingers along it and feel the bumps left by the straps, then he would do the same with his tongue. Her favourite moment was when he engulfed her cock head with his warm mouth. When he did that, she sighed and put her headphones on and begane listening to the voices of the neighbours.

Soon enough, she was sifting through hours of chatter while Harmon bobbed his head on her cock. He was getting better, but his gag reflex was still getting in his way.

The chat about the two newcomers was as she had expected.

"Have you seen the bean pole who just moved into twenty eight? And her dwarf of a fiancé?"

"Amazon Prime? I doubt the little guy delivers."

"She better stay the fuck away from my husband."

That wasn't what she was looking for, but it was good to know who was bitching about them. She was looking for information about who she could control. Who would be as malleable as poor Harmon.

Chat such as "Did you hear that Jilly walked in on Grant and Trish?" made her sit up and take notice. Which made Harmon choke as her cock drove to the back of his throat.

Over the next few weeks, Trixie built up a picture of what was going on in the neighborhood. There was a swinger's group that she would have to steer clear of. There were some people who couldn't keep a secret, and she could use them, but she couldn't let them find anything out. She identified the other manipulators, and anything that she could use to put them to work for her. And she found out who was cheating, who had cheated, and who she could have under the desk in place of Harmon.

She also had a chart of who had the biggest dicks in town, and who cared. That would also be useful, because size queens loved Nick's dick, and Trixie didn't want to lose that.

She looked down at Harmon, who was trying to stuff as much of her cock into his mouth as he could. She almost felt bad for him, knowing that she had trapped him as a cover for her illicit intentions. He was addicted to her, as she had intended, and she was almost ready to take away his daily injection. She almost felt sorry for him, but not really. He was just a tool. She grabbed his hair and pulled him out from under the desk. Not letting go as he whined and complained, she lay him over the desk and rammed her cock as far into his throat as she could and started to fuck his face with abandon. She imagined the innocent wives that she was about to plunder as Harmon struggled to catch a breath. Her cock was deeper than ever, now, and her balls were slapping his face. It was a wonder that he hadn't thrown up. She came over his face and chest as he gasped for breath and coughed up phlegm, and she didn't even notice that he had cum his own load in his pants.

"Don't lay there all night," she said, "And clean up afterwards." She walked away and left him in a heap.