The High Cost of Tanning by Julien Sorel (Race Change)

[TheoW]

Author's note: This story isn't much like a Blairbrek story, but I intended it as a tribute to Blairbrek.

---

Kate walked into the tanning salon, wearing a lovely, tiny white silk dress and leather thong sandals, and carrying an expensive brown handbag. She and her husband Charley were about to leave for a month's vacation to the Amindivi Islands off the shore of South India, and Charley had insisted that she get a tan before they leave, booking an appointment for her with his old friend Ingrid. Kate thought it was silly to pay for a tan when they were about to go on a beach holiday anyway, but it was more trouble than it was worth to argue with Charley.

Ingrid emerged from the back room and greeted Kate warmly, leading her back to the tanning beds. Kate had met Ingrid once when she was clubbing with Charley; she assumed that Ingrid was one of his exes. It was fortunate that she wasn't especially the jealous type, because Charley knew a lot of good-looking women. No one else was in the salon after closing time, and Kate didn't feel self- conscious as she slipped out of her barely-there outfit and lay down in the tanning bed. She was 25 years old, a slender 5'10" brunette with a boyishly short haircut, an elongated torso, and showgirl legs.

Kate had been a graduate student at UCLA in English literature when she met Charley, a brash 38-year-old Scotsman who had made a lot of money as a stock trader. Charley was not an intellectual and didn't have a lot in common with Kate, but he went after her like a bulldog and persuaded her to marry him within a year. Kate finished her doctorate, but never got around to doing anything with her academic training; Charley didn't seem to like the idea of her working, and she quickly got used to a life of shopping and traveling. Gradually Kate saw less and less of her old crowd, and started hanging out with Charley's faster, wealthier circle. She used to dress in a tasteful, bohemian fashion, but Charley liked her in nice clothes and high heels, and by degrees she lost her old fashion style and took to trendy, daring outfits that showed a lot of her lanky figure. Charley liked everything about Kate: her fine-featured, fresh-faced beauty; her charming chest, which was just big enough to fill out a T-shirt nicely without going to extremes; her long, slender feet with arches so high that she had to wear orthopedic inserts in her shoes; even her awkward, tentative nature. Charley definitely liked that Kate was a smart girl who nonetheless seemed confused and helpless; she gave the impression that she could get lost on the way to the corner store. She was no match for Charley's vigorous personality, and it was rare when he didn't have his way when they disagreed. In bed, she was far from the most skillful woman Charley had known; but he loved fucking her anyway, and enjoyed introducing her to new erotic pleasures that she had trouble mastering. Charley cheated on her from time to time, but on the whole he was as faithful to her as he could be; and, for her part, Kate found that life without a career or smart friends wasn't so hard to endure.

Ingrid was in fact a current rather than a former girlfriend of Charley's, but that was neither here nor there. More to the point, Charley had put Ingrid up to a little trick that would gratify a sex fantasy of his.

"Before we start, I have to cover your hair," said Ingrid.

"What?" said Kate. She had never heard of such a thing.

"This light might change your hair color," lied Ingrid. In fact, she wanted to make sure that the skin under Kate's hair would tan as dark as the rest of her. She fitted a slick piece of shiny, plastic-y material neatly over Kate's scalp, using scissors to trim it to size. Then she did the same for Kate's manicured black bush. Kate was dumbfounded, but lay still while Ingrid wrapped her up in the crinkly material.

"One more thing," said Ingrid, producing a tube of clear jelly. "I need to protect your hands and feet. Don't move." The young, naked brunette watched with astonishment as Ingrid coated her palms with the jelly, then did the same for her soles. It wasn't a fast job, either: Ingrid worked the jelly painstakingly between Kate's fingers and toes, staying within certain areas as if she were drawing in a coloring book. Kate felt helpless and taken advantage of, and somehow got a little turned on.

"Let's get an eye guard on you," said Ingrid. But, instead of the usual goggles, Ingrid used two small clip-like devices that basically zippered Kate's eyelashes together. "Ow," said Kate. She couldn't open her eyes at all.

"Okay, we're ready," said Ingrid, shutting the clamshell on Kate and flipping a switch. If Charley had failed to slip the tanning drug in Kate's orange juice that morning, Kate would just get a normal tan. If he did his job, special things would happen....

Twelve minutes later, Ingrid lifted the clamshell, and Kate sat up and eased herself to the ground. But the thick coating of jelly on her feet made her slip and fall into Ingrid's arms. "Whoa! Let me wipe you down first," said Ingrid, sitting Kate up and taking a towel to her hands and feet. "God, you look fabulous! You look fantastic with a tan!" said Ingrid.

"Quick, take these things off my eyes," said Kate. Ingrid pulled the plastic off of Kate's hair and pubes, fluffed her haircut a bit, took her to a full-length mirror, then unzipped the clips on her eyelashes.

"Oh, Jesus, oh my God!" said Kate, panicking. Her skin was a dark chocolate color from head to toe!

"What's wrong? You look amazing!" said Ingrid. "Your skin is flawless, it's perfect!"

"But...but..." stuttered Kate. "Look at me! I'm black!"

"Kate, just calm down," said Ingrid. "Do you hear me? You're not black, you're just dark. It's a suntan. You look incredibly hot."

Kate looked hard at herself. "You think so?" she asked mournfully. Her face certainly didn't look African, with her little turned-up nose and her tiny round mouth. And her hair wasn't African. But...she was so dark.... She noticed that her palms were a much lighter brown than the rest of her - was that what the jelly was for? She turned up her toes and peered at the edges of her soles: her feet had the same Negroid coloring as her hands.

"Oh, my God, I wish I could tan like that," said Ingrid. "You have the most perfect skin I've ever seen."

"I can't...I don't know if I can go out like this," whimpered Kate.

"Kate, I'm going to take you out myself tonight, and you watch and see if every guy in the room doesn't ignore me and stare at you," said Ingrid firmly.

"You really think it's okay?" asked Kate plaintively.

Ingrid temporarily calmed Kate down by telling her repeatedly how beautiful she was. But, as she stopped in a boutique on the way home, Kate's insecurity returned in a rush. How could she have let Ingrid convince her that this was a normal tan?

Nervously, she realized that Charley's secretary Billie was looking at accessories on the other side of the little room. "Billie!" Kate said.

Billie peered at Kate without recognition. Kate's heart dropped. "It's Kate," she said faintly.

"Kate?" said Billie, unbelievingly. "What in the world...?" Then Billie realized that she was being rude. "Wow. You look terrific!"

"You think so?" said Kate, shakily. "This tan...."

"It *is* kind of...extreme," said Billie. "You look...." Billie didn't finish the sentence. "But it's great. When I saw you, I thought, 'Who is that gorgeous....'" Billie didn't finish again.

"I look black, don't I?" said Kate pathetically.

"No, no," said Billie hastily. "I love it."

Kate was a basket case by the time she got home. She ran upstairs to her husband, who was working out on their home gym equipment. Charley stopped pedaling the stationary bike and stared open-mouthed at his dark-skinned young wife, her tiny white dress fluttering above the blackish-brown flesh of her long, curvaceous legs.

"Look what happened," moaned Kate.

"God, you look great," said Charley, sincerely.

"Do you think so," said Kate?

"Come here," said Charley, and didn't wait for her to obey. In a matter of seconds he had pulled every stitch of clothing from Kate's body carried her into their bedroom, and spread her out across their bed, kissing her as if he wanted to devour her.

"Oh, Charley," said Kate as Charley opened her legs and positioned his cock for entry. "I'm so glad you're here. I was so depressed when I saw myself."

Charley thought of asking Kate to talk as if she were black, but he knew she wouldn't be able to pull it off. "Just keep quiet, would you, sweetheart," he said.

"Keep quiet!" Kate flared. "Do you know what I've been through?"

"Yes, sweetheart, but please don't talk," Charley muttered, as he found Kate's hole and worked himself in an inch or two.

A light dawned. "You're pretending that I'm black, aren't you?" Kate squirmed, but she was already impaled on Charley's cock.

"Mmmm," he said, moving inside Kate a little.

"Holy crap!" said Kate. "You put Ingrid up to this, didn't you?"

"Shut the fuck up, dear," said Charley, trying to get his rhythm.

"You bastard!" Kate went ballistic, flinging herself against Charley and biting him hard on the shoulder. Yelling in pain, Charley reacted reflexively, slamming into Kate and stunning her into immobility.

The body blow broke Kate's resistance. A little dizzy from hitting her head on the headboard, she lay back spreadeagled, with Charley buried to the hilt in her cunt. Her anger turned into a warm buzz all over her body. Charley noticed that it was suddenly easier to work his cock back and forth inside his beautiful young wife.

===

After the social strain of pretending to her friends that her suntan was just a suntan, Kate was relieved when she and Charley set out for the Amindivi Islands. The people they met on the way all assumed that they were an interracial couple, which relieved Kate of the need for explanations - though there was one older woman on the flight to Bangalore who got a little drunk and kept assuring Kate that she didn't think anything was wrong with people marrying whomever they wanted. The last part of the journey was by boat, and Kate and Charley made the acquaintance of two delightful 20-year-olds from Stockholmm who plainly didn't care what color anyone was.

As the boat docked at their destination, Kate and Charley leaned over the side and watched the natives working or lying in the sun. They had very dark skin, but their features were almost European. In short, they looked something like Kate.

"I suppose this is where you got the idea for my little makeover," said Kate coldly.

"I deny everything," said Charley.

No one wore many clothes on this island. The women's hair was very short, so short that some of them looked almost shaven.

The short walk from the port to the town lead past a beautiful beach dotted with palm trees. A fantastic site awaited the arrivals: all over the beach, nearly naked women undulated in a native dance, smiling at the newcomers. NOne of them wore more than a small, free-hanging cloth over their private parts.

"Oh, yeah," said Charley. "I read about this."

"I bet you did," said Kate.

"They're whores," said an elderly Indian man walking behind them?

Was he some kind of religious fanatic? No, he seemed to be telling the simple truth: the arrivals watched as an Asian man, probably Japanese, approached one of the women. Continuing her dance, she turned around and ground her soft bare ass into the Asian's crotch, smiling toothily at him over her shoulder. A pimp emerged from the trees and engaged the Asian in conversation, while the naked woman continued to undulate.

The Swedish girls were fascinated, and stared with saucer eyes. Kate was horrified, and said so to Charley, but he just shrugged. "Different countries, different customs," he said.

---

The island was beautiful, but Kate didn't see much of it for a few days: Charley was having a second honeymoon in his own mind, and wanted to fuck her almost around the clock. Kate actually became sore down below from all the attention: but she never had any luck saying no to Charley about sex.

Finally Kate got away by herself one afternoon, and wandered aimlessly around the town, which did not look very prosperous outside of the tourist area. Kate wore only a flimsy white cotton dress and flip-flops, but here she was almost overdressed.

Finally Kate arrived in a more pleasant quarter, with some large houses surrounded by heavy foliage. Walking down a little dirt alley, she saw an attractive, slender native woman who was dressed almost exactly like her, in the same simple white cotton; the only obvious differences in their appearances were that the woman was barefoot, and that her hair was no more than a stubble. The woman looked at Kate without expression, then vanished into the courtyard of one of the houses.

Curious, Kate wandered into the courtyard, overgrown with greenery, and looked around. She was startled when an older white woman in a house dress emerged from a door in front of her.

"Follow me," said the woman, with an accompanying hand gesture. She took a few steps toward a door on the side of the courtyard, then turned around at Kate, who was standing open-mouthed.

"I said 'Follow me'! Now!" said the woman, loudly and harshly. Unfortunately, Kate's first instinct was to obey authority figures, and she followed the woman through the door, muttering her puzzlement under her breath.

In the room, the woman pointed at a large wooden bucket of water with a washboard in it, and a pile of clothes next to it. "Go, and be quick about it!" said the woman sternly. "No, I...." Kate stammered. Before she could say anything, the woman screamed "John!"

A very large, dark-skinned man appeared in the doorway. The woman pointed at Kate and the laundry. "Wait," said Kate, but before she could get another word out, the man was upon her, slapping her hard in the face. Kate screamed and tried to talk, but every time she opened her mouth, the man beat her fiercely and pushed her toward the bucket.

In mere seconds Kate was on her knees on the stone floor in front of the water, bawling like a child. After a few more blows, she was elbow-deep in the soapy water, vigorously scrubbing the house's dirty linen. Her crying could be heard up and down the neighborhood, but no one was troubled by it.

While Kate was working, John (his real name was Om, but he went by John among whites) roughly pulled the flip-flops off of her feet. Calling a boy of about ten years in from the street, John gave him an order and sent him away with the flip-flops. Kate cried out as she saw the boy run off, but a slap silenced her. She did not know then that she would never again wear shoes for the rest of her life.

John looked over the sobbing young woman as she labored desperately over the washboard. He could not find on her any signs of ownership, any tattoos, scars or ornaments that would indicate her tribe. Perhaps she was a vagabond wandering the islands. Her little white dress had ridden up around her hips, and John was baffled to see white thong panties, set off dramatically by the dark brown of her ass cheeks. Even more incongruous was her European-style haircut. John could only conclude that she was a prostitute.

It was many hours before Kate finished the laundry. When the pile of dirty linen was finally gone, John pulled the exhausted Kate, soaked from head to toe in grimy, soapy water, to her feet, and dragged her into an adjoining room. There, he pulled out his cock and thrust Kate's mouth onto it. Terrified, Kate sucked the man incompetently, and received a rain of blows for her trouble. Only when Kate was sucking as hard as humanly possible did John stop punishing her, grabbing her head with both hands to control her rhythm. Her jaw muscles were aching, but Kate had no choice but to persevere until John ejaculated down her throat.

Night was falling. The native woman whom Kate had seen on the street earlier was called into the room, and helped John pull Kate onto her feet. Together, they escorted Kate out of the house, each holding one of her arms, and walked her briskly across the little town. No longer did the women resemble each other: Kate looked as if she had been lying in a gutter. As they crossed the town's main street, Kate saw her flip-flops, with the special arch supports that she had shopped for for so long, on another white woman's feet. Raising her head, she saw that the new owner was one of the young Swedes from the boat ride. She thought of calling out, but she was terrified and half-dead with exhaustion - and in a moment they had left the tourist area behind and entered the dark alleys at the edge of the village.

Their destination was a group of shacks in a clearing in the forest, where a tribe of natives seemed to live. Some wore simple European clothing; other were naked to the waist, with a wind of fabric covering their lower bodies.

In the center of the little village, John and a few other tribesmen roughly removed every stitch of clothing from Kate's lean, shapely body. Then they dragged her naked into an empty hut, and fastened her to a stake in the ground, using a chain and a metal collar around her neck. Two men pushed Kate onto her back and held her down, while the young woman in the white dress approached her with a bowl of small cottony plant pods that were drenched in some bad-smelling liquid, and began systematically pushing them down Kate's throat, as if she were stuffing a turkey. As the woman finished her task and withdrew, Kate realized with horror that her vocal cords no longer worked.

Naked and chained, Kate lay wide-eyed on the dirt floor, blinking tears from her eyes and working her little mouth in a vain attempt to make a sound. The men in the room waited for the woman to leave, then flipped Kate over on her hands and knees and fucked her, one at a time. When they had finished, they filed out of the hut, leaving their captive in the care of two young girls from the tribe, no more than twelve, whose job was to attend to Kate's grooming and appearance, and to keep her from causing trouble.

Kate lay on the floor, ass up, quietly leaking semen from all her holes. The giggling girls didn't seem overly concerned with her condition: they pulled her up into a sitting position while she was still spitting up the tribe's semen, and sandwiched her between the two of them. The first girl knelt between Kate's splayed legs and held Kate's head with both hands, as if it were a football. The second girl sat behind Kate, her legs around Kate's naked body, and took a small, sharpened piece of stone to Kate's scalp. Chatting gaily to her friend the whole time, the young barber used tiny, repeated strokes of the stone blade to remove Kate's hair at the skin. When she was finished, Kate was practically bald, her head covered with a light, scalloped pattern from the staccato motion of the blade.

By the time the girls had finished Kate's head, it was the middle of the night, and the village was silent except for the sounds of crickets and the howls of dogs in the forest. Kate was making small gurgling sounds and shaking like a leaf, looking at her hair on the floor; the girls were getting tired, and wanted to finish their night's work. The girl behind Kate passed the blade to her friend, who deftly removed Kate's eyebrows with a few swift strokes. Even more than the shaving of her head, the loss of her eyebrows made Kate difficult to recognize, more native in appearance. Finally, Kate was pulled onto her back: while one girl held both her ankles over her head, the other applied the blade to Kate's cunt, still crusted with dried cum, and left the same faint, scalloped design over her bared pubic mound. Ready to sleep, the girls pushed the totally shaven, totally mute tourist against the wall, and curled up on a straw pallet across the room. Kate remained where she had been placed for the rest of the night.

Over the next few days, the girls refined Kate's appearance, adding little ornamental touches. Finding ear piercings already in place, they added piercings to her nostrils, so they could connect the holes with fine jeweled chains of copper; and they pierced Kate's navel twice and fixed a piece of costume jewelry there. A more time-consuming project was an elaborate pattern of tattoos on the sides of Kate's feet, starting with faint bluish swirls on her little toes, and working back to her heels. While her feet were healing from a tattoo session, the girls began a similar design on the edges of Kate's slender hands.

Kate could do nothing but shed silent tears and watch as the girls slowly, permanently transformed her. She was a head taller than either of the girls, but they were far more physical and aggressive, and they did with Kate whatever they wanted, moving her around like a piece of furniture, and brutally suppressing the least sign of resistance. Kate quickly became meekly subservient to her young caretakers.

She did not know if and when her voice would return, because the girls took every opportunity to feed her more of the dripping pods. Sometimes she would wake up at night to find her herself straddled by one of the giggling girls, eating the vile-tasting plants that were being stuffed into her mouth.

---

Charley went to the island's local police (actually an army outpost) the night that Kate failed to come home. But a cursory search of the town didn't turn her up, and the military office was ill equipped to conduct a real investigation. Crazed with worry, Charley found an old Xerox machine in the army barracks and spent the next day making a missing-person poster, using his wallet snapshot of Kate. He paid islanders to circulate the flyer, and hired guides to help him in his own search. But Kate didn't materialize.

---

The elders of the tribe that had tattooed Kate with their mark of ownership came into possession of one of Charley's flyers, and passed it around at their next council meeting. It was not surprising that no one recognized the cute, smiling brunette in the photo. The flyer contained the words "Skin much darker than in picture," but the phrase simply did not convey how black Kate's skin had become. Kate's full name was in big letters at the top of the flyer: Dr. Katherine Breckinridge. Charley was proud of Kate's doctorate, even though he had subtly discouraged her from using it.

While the flyer was being discussed, Kate was one of two serving girls in the room, carrying food and drinks to the elders' table. She had been so submissive and obedient to her young custodians that the tribe had quickly put her to work as a domestic servant; she was too attractive to waste on such menial work for very long, but it was customary to train slave girls in all forms of service.

Kate stood silently at the edge of the room, wearing only a short cloth skirt wrapped around her hips. When she was called to serve, she moved rapidly, her full, dark-nippled breasts dangling attractively over the food she carried. She knew that the flyer the elders were discussing was about her own disappearance, but did not dare to show that she was listening. When her evening of service was done, she would return to her hut, where the girls would lock the steel collar around her neck, pull off her clothes, and continue to ink elaborate, faint tribal designs onto her skin. The girls themselves were too young to bear any tribal markings; when they came of age, their designs would indicate their much higher social status. To an outside eye that did not know the meaning of the tattoos, however, Kate had become quite a lovely work of tribal art.

---

Two weeks of searching had yielded no results for Charley, and the military police had been of little help. Almost crazy with sorrow and anger, he eased his mind one night by getting drunk as a lord and buying a small harem of native girls for a few hours' pleasure. He found himself in a cheesy house of ill repute (a room of ill repute, actually, with simultaneous acts of debauchery taking place in different corners, and the proprietors strolling discreetly amid the revelers) with three dark, slender young girls tending to different parts of his anatomy. He gently pushed one girl's lascivious tongue out of his mouth to take the last swig of gin out of his bottle, while resting his other hand on the bobbing, shaved head of the girl who was furiously sucking his cock. Damn, he thought, I wish I could teach Kate to give head like that. The thought made him sad, and he blinked back tears as an attentive host set a new bottle by his side.

Charley's method of dealing with the loss of his wife may seem strange to some readers. But he truly loved Kate in his own way, and missed her terribly.

He would never have guessed that Kate was the native girl on whose bare scalp he was doodling circles with his finger. The men of the tribe liked their cocks to be sucked hard, and Kate, not sexually aggressive by nature, had taken a lot of punishment for her restrained fellating technique. But weeks of continual practice had developed her jaw muscles and her motivation, and now she sucked like a vacuum cleaner.

Kate's heart had leapt when she was led into the room with the other two naked, bejeweled girls and saw that Charley was the man they had to pleasure. Yet he showed no sign of being able to distinguish her from the other whores. In truth, by this time, Kate neither looked nor acted very much like her former self. The lascivious walk and gestures expected of an island whore had not come easily to the rather timid Kate, but they had been drummed into her until she could barely remember how she used to behave. While she was wondering why Charley didn't recognize her, she was unconsciously running her tongue over and over her lips.

All three girls threw herself upon Charley immediately, as was expected of them. As soon as the proprietor had strolled away to oversee another fornication, Kate jumped up and grabbed Charley's head between her hands, trying desperately to make him look at her. But he was already too drunk to see straight, and simply blinked at her. She had no voice to call him with, and before she could whisper in his ear, she saw the proprietor looking angrily her way. Terrified, she pushed her breasts into Charley's face and began undulating down his chest, hoping that she had successfully disguised her attempt to get Charley's attention. Another girl slithered on top of her, and she had no choice but to continue the downward motion that ended with her mouth on Charley's sex. No sooner did she start sucking than the other girls instinctively absorbed her energy, writhing with the rhythm of her oral attack. The girl above her threw a leg over Kate's head and straddled Charley, massaging him with her breasts and mouth; the girl sitting behind Charley wrapped her legs around him and settled a jewelled bare foot on either side of Kate's bobbing head, while using her fingers to play with Charley's nipples. The intertwined girls moved as one, and the drunken Charley yielded to their energy.

Kate's only hope was for Charley not to come too soon, but she had to keep up the pace now or be punished; and in any case it would have been very difficult in her present, intimidated state of mind to deviate from the cocksucking behavior that had been trained into her. Before long she felt her husband's cock begin to quiver, and his semen, with its familiar taste, collected in the back of her mouth.

As soon as Charley came, the three-bodied female organism that encased him slowed its collective rhythm and became more sensual and languid. The girl above Kate sank down until her hips made contact with Kate's head, and Kate felt the girl's cunt divide slowly and wetly over her crown. The toes of the girl sitting behind Charley began to play idly with Kate's much-pierced ears, and caressed her neck and the back of her head. Kate's spirits were low: the session would now be ended, and she would not have another chance to call Charley's attention to her. She found herself reflexively licking Charley's cock and balls clean, as the tribal men liked her to do.

Men's hands pulled the naked girls off Charley and set them on their feet. Kate hoped that Charley would get a last look at her before she was dismissed, but he had slipped into post-coital unconsciousness, and the proprietor was trying to wake him. A hand slapped Kate's bare ass, and she turned quickly and sashayed out of the room with the other girls, their copious jewelry tinkling lightly as they walked.

---

Almost a month after Kate's disappearance, Charley was on the dock of the island, waiting to board a boat to the mainland. He was miserable about leaving Kate behind, but he had exhausted all his options here. There was an American consulate in Bangalore, where he hoped to start a more serious investigation than the island's incompetent police were able to mount.

A hundred yards away, on the sand of the beach next to the little port, Kate was dancing naked in the sunlight, smiling at the tourists to try to lure them, wearing only a few strands of beads that dangled between her legs, covering nothing. In the shade of a nearby tree, one of the tribesmen waited for her to attract a customer.

Kate saw Charley in the distance, and had to force herself to keep dancing and smiling. If the tribe hadn't removed her voice, she could have called out to him. As it was, he wouldn't recognize her at this distance - with a sinking heart, she realized that he would probably not even recognize her if she were standing next to him. She briefly thought of running toward the dock, then gave up the idea with a shudder: she'd be caught before she left the sand, and her punishment would be frightful. If Charley would look this way, could she get his attention by waving? No, it would just be an island whore waving. And then punishment.

Suddenly a tourist was talking to her - perhaps an Arab, in Western casual clothes, but with very dark skin, only a little lighter than hers. All other thoughts went out of her head: she locked eyes with him, as she'd been taught to do, and opened her mouth in a blatant attempt atseduction.

It worked. The man stepped closer, said something she didn't understand, and grabbed one of her breasts. Kate smiled more broadly and swiveled her chest from side to side, rubbing her darkbreasts one at a time against the man's grasping hand.

Boldly, the grinning man thrust his hand into Kate's crotch. The tribesman would now come over and stop the man, but it was not Kate's job to decide when to stop: she waggled her tongue lewdly and tilted her hips into the grope. She had been distracted by Charley's presence, and therefore wasn't as wet as she was supposed to be; but she maneuvered the man's hand toward places where she hoped she might be juicy.

Her pimp arrived on schedule and began negotiations. Kate continued swaying, her eyes fixed on the customer's eyes, as was expected of her.

A deal was made. The pimp led the man through the trees to a tiny hut that contained a stained straw mat. As Kate followed, she looked over her shoulder to the dock. Charley had already boarded the boat, and its engine had started.

Walking with the fluid, hip-swaying motion of an island girl, Kate bumped up against the Arab tourist, who put a hand on her bare ass. Smiling at him the whole time, she took his hand and pulled him into the hut, while the tribesman waited outside.

By the time Kate rejoined the other naked girls undulating on the sand, she could just barely make out Charley's boat on the horizon.

[omphalos]

This is one of my all-time favorite stories. I can't believe no one has commented. Has the author Julien Sorel written anything else?

[smith]

.

[omphalos]

Wow thanks so much - it's a gold mine!

[abdtiresias]

One of my most favorite story... Always happy to read this one. Thanks for the story.

[Vended]

It look like Smith links is no more. Does antone else have the others Julien Sorel stories?

[Tetora]

[Vended]

Thanks a lot.

[Camille]

A classic and an old favourite. It's a shame that Julien Sorel did not explore similar themes in his other stories. So it remains a rare gem of race transformation fiction.

[powell090]

I have read all the story. I really like it.