The Previous Anong

4 Hours Earlier

(Thoughts in Thai, obviously)

Anong clomped into the bathroom in her 7 inch red heels, essentially naked other than a maid's collar and cap, along with some gauzy wristlets and stockings. She'd just modeled it for Rafe on the bed, as the man seemed to agonize over what she would wear.

One more dress to show him now.

She'd already shown him the black and white dresses, but now he wanted to see the red one too. Unfortunately.

"Som, you ugly little bitch. I told you to clean this one. . ." Anong muttered to herself in Thai, seeing a noticeable crusty cumstain on the sleeve. Som was the most pathetic of her fellow whores back at the brothel, rural and plain, her only use to the madame that she spoke English. Anong loved making her do her laundry and cleaning to put her in her place, and the mistress didn't care about the treatment since Anong was the best earner with her pretty face.

Back in the present, Anong tried to recall all the ways this Rafe had asked to her act with 'Anya'. The language barrier made it difficult to understand exactly what he'd wanted, but it was clear he cared A LOT about how this went, but she knew she'd make him happy.

He had to pick a dress, though; these three dresses and the two pairs of high heels were nearly the only things the pretty whore owned in the entire world, and prior to leaving they'd been communal with the other whores the same size as her.

But Madame had 'generously' let her take them, along with two pairs of equally worn shoes. The two tallest pairs the Madame owned that fit Anong's tiny feet, as Rafe had requested. He was smart; she'd heard that American girls had huge feet and it would be impossible to find shoes that fit her in America.

Fortunately, the shoes were in better shape than the dress; with heels this high, they were mostly only worn while the girls were on their backs or their knees, reducing the wear and tear.

Her only other belongings were her make up, her grandmother's wedding ring (which she always wore to make sure none of the Johns or other whores stole it), and about 5,000 Baht. The money had been carefully hoarded by Anong over the last year but would be nearly useless here.

When this man had visited her Madame's estate last week the assumption by all the whores was that he was there to buy a wife. Or hidden mistress. That wasn't uncommon.

But when he'd interviewed Anong, he'd told her the most fantastical story. A chance for a completely fresh start, as a tall, beautiful white girl who he would make sure got a Green Card and chance at the American Dream.

Or worst case, his plan wouldn't work and she'd settle for a few easy years in America, which was still a big improvement.

All she had to do was seduce the Russian girl, and then she could become her. Or not even seduce her, just make her super horny for Anong and then touch her with the statue.

Anong was good at making people want her, boys or girls, it didn't matter.

It all sounded crazy, but the tiny girl saw no reason to not give it a shot.

Her mother had told her to do whatever it took to survive in this world, and that's what she'd done.

Rafe assured her that Anya liked girls, and that despite her beauty and height she was a very submissive slut, so it should be pretty easy. "Be aggressive" he'd told her through the translator. "She likes being dominated."

He also said he'd handle the rest.

All in all it sounded like the easiest 'John' she'd ever had. Anong liked pretty girls too; even plain old Som was fun to tease and torment back home, her obvious early crush she'd once harbored for Anong making the mean teasing all the sweeter.

This was probably all just a roleplay thing, between Rafe and Anya? Worse case she'd have to have sex with the hot Russian girl and maybe him too. So what? That didn't rate with the things she'd done over the last year.

Anong did feel a pang of guilt at potentially stealing someone else's life, not sure if she believed Rafe that it would only work if they both wanted it.

The guilt was dissipated as she put on the stained red dress, accompanied by a familiar but still unpleasant smell.

Aromas of perfume and cum came from the garment, left by whichever girl had worn it last.

She dabbed at the stains on the sleeve with a wet cloth, but that just seemed to release the smell more. It needed a real wash that she couldn't do before showtime tonight.

Hopefully Rafe wouldn't pick the red one. It's not like it was her first time wearing a cum-stained dress, but she'd still prefer one of the slightly cleaner ones even if they weren't any less revealing.

But even if he did pick it, if tonight went like we hoped then it would be someone else's problem to wash.

Anong looked at the other two dresses hanging on the shower door, knowing they'd each been worn by at least 4 other whores like her, multiple times.

She hoped she'd never see these dresses again, after tonight, but she did feel that pang of guilt again at whoever became their new owner.

Rafe liked the dress, but didn't seem completely sold. Anong pointed out the cum stains, thinking it would push him back towards one of the other two.

Instead he smiled. "That's the one, then." He said. She didn't understand until he repeated it through the phone translator, but then she grimaced.

Hopefully the Russian girl really did want this.

The New Anong

Present

I looked down disbelievingly at Anong's red dress that I was wearing, and the dark honey-colored skin beneath it, while Rafe talked.

"Wah Wah Wah Wah, Andy, Wah Wah Wah Wah." Rafe said to me. I couldn't understand anything he said, and looked at him blankly.

Rafe smirked ruefully, then typed into his phone. It spoke.

"ฉันดีใจมากที่ได้คุณกลับมา แอนดี้ แต่มันสายไปแล้ว และฉันมีบางอย่างที่ต้องทำ เข้านอนแล้วในตอนเช้าอย่าลืมสวมชุดเมดที่ฉันทิ้งไว้พร้อมกับรองเท้าส้นสูง ทำความสะอาดห้องจนกว่าฉันจะกลับมา (I'm so happy to have you back, Andy, but it's late and I have a few things left to do. Take a bath, you smell like the brothel. Then go to bed, and in the morning make sure you put on the maid uniform I left out along with the heels. Clean the suite until I get back."

I sat on the bed, defeated. I could only think of one question.

I found I knew the English word among my limited repertoire. Lucky.

"Why?" I asked, the word foreign-sounding to my ears.

He knew what I meant. "I had to know your true feelings. And I needed you to admit it." He grinned at me victoriously when he saw the look on my face once I understood the phone's translation. What had he seen there?

With that, he walked out.

I fell backwards in the bed, which felt enormous to my tiny frame. My legs dangled, feet only touching the ground due to the skyscraper heels.

I laid there in a stupor for a quarter hour, unable to believe what had happened and too drained to even think about doing anything about it right now.

But I would take the bath. I had to. Obeying his orders was second nature to me still.

I peeled off the slutty mesh dress, which had been so tight it was like a second skin, like it was a part of me.

Then I unclipped and stepped out of the ridiculous shoes, lurching as I accustomed to myself to Anong's airy body.

In a reversal of the last time this happened, I was confused at how little my body jiggled. Anong was SKINNY. Too skinny. I was surprised to find I missed my curves almost as much as my height as Anya.

But just like that, I was completely naked - no panties for this girl, apparently.

I finally had a body whose previous owner was sluttier than me as Anya - a true challenge, I knew. Only a literal whore could achieve it.

It was impossible not to look in the mirror as I waited for the tub to fill.

The girl looking back was shell shocked, but gorgeous.

Most notably, she was tiny. Diminutive. As Anya I'd had a tall and medium-sized frame Slavic frame, with padding in the right places. In contrast, Anong wasn't just very short, she was also NARROW. Her shoulders, waist and hips were tiny.

As Anya I'd been taller than maybe half of men in my heels, and the vast majority of women. As Anong, nearly every woman would be taller than me, and they could probably all overpower me easily.

Most teenagers and many literal children probably could as well.

I was vulnerable in entirely new ways now.

Any hopes of a career in fashion modeling was over for me, now that my height started with a 'four'.

Suddenly, I noticed it. The familiar swelling, the wetness. No different in this body than the last, while feeling humiliated.

No! I insisted to my body. Stop it!

But my lower parts started to simmer out of my control.

I couldn't stop thinking about the differences.

The second contrast was that Anya could blend in with most Americans, no one guessing she was non-American until they heard her speak.

Most American's would see me now and think 'foreigner' right off the bat, except in the most multicultural of areas.

I was "exotic" now, in a way Anya wasn't. A lot of men would fetishize me, even before they knew this was the body of a literal whore.

The furnace rose higher, and I decided that once I was clean a cold shower was badly needed.

Then straight to bed.

++++++++++++++++++

The next morning, I awoke to my new reality as Anong. Anya was gone, and I realized there was a good chance I would never see her again.

I laid in bed a while, my mind not wanting to face my new life.

But Rafe's order last night had settled into my mind, and I felt practically conditioned to obey him from my previous time serving him as Anya.

At that time, I'd had a nebulous idea of what would happen if I disobeyed. I'd have been sent back to Russia to face a fate I didn't know, but which Anya had fled.

Now I knew exactly what faced me, if I didn't please Rafe; a life of kneeling in a Bangkok whorehouse, sucking a dozen dicks per day without even the luxury of air conditioning, until my looks faded.

And my own perverted nature had put me here. I believed Rafe really would have let me go if it hadn't worked.

A part of me wanted this! I thought disgustedly at myself. Even now, my skin felt electric, ready to discover how my new uniform felt.

So I got up from the bed, grabbed the heavy heels and went to the attached bathroom where a small bundle of black and white fabric awaited me.

I stripped out of the horrid red dress from last night, then applied my makeup using what appeared to be Anong's small bag of cosmetics. I tried to emulate how she'd done it, too wiped to think about doing it any other way.

I moaned internally at the tiny maid uniform as I unfolded the garment; it was far skimpier than anything I'd worn as Anya, and that was saying something. I put on the wristlets and the hairband, then the heels.

I grimaced at the complete look, something in the muscle memory of my new face making it look more like an awkward smile. I was a girl conditioned by a year as a prostitute not to show her displeasure visibly.

Despite how horribly revealing the uniform was, I had to admit I looked incredibly hot.

Something about being a Thai maid felt even more servile and helpless than a Russian maid.

Is it racist for me to feel like being this tiny Asian girl is more humiliating than being a Russian girl? I wondered, absurdly. It was likely that no one but Rafe would ever be able to judge me for it.

I looked at myself in the mirror with my more exotic features and diminutive frame, my height artificially boosted from "tiny" to "below average" by the 7-inch heels.

The unwilling excitement of forced servitude as Anya had gotten stale about halfway through my two years of service, but now it was fresh again.

As Anong, I was more vulnerable than ever.

My lower regions inflamed again.

+++++

Before I started cleaning, I tottered out in the insane heels to the suite door, nearly tripping once.

The door was unlocked, and I was alone. I poked my head out into the hallway, seeing the doors to other suites and an 'exit' sign at the end.

I could just. . . leave.

Rafe was obviously confident I wouldn't, not even feeling the need to bar my escape in any way.

And he was right. Where would I go, with no money or English or contacts who would recognize me? To wear I had nothing but maid uniforms or dresses fit for a prostitute, along with these ludicrous shoes. To leave in my current state meant inevitably worse destinations: a streetcorner, a back alley, or, best case, a whorehouse.

Worst case, perhaps a ditch. I shivered and closed the door.

So I dusted. And wiped. And organized.

And got really fucking aroused every time I caught a glimpse of my new form in anything reflective.

Eventually I could take it no more, sitting on a chair in the living room and pulling my panties aside to explore my new vagina. It was smaller, daintier and despite lack of a hand mirror I could tell the labia were much darker.

It was just as sensitive as Anya's though. I stroked my lips and clit with the handle of my duster, looking at my skimpy skirt, dusky golden skin and the torturous heels I'd be wearing for the rest of my tenure.

Oh god. It was too MUCH!

"Hnggng. . . Hnnnghg" I moaned in my new higher pitched voice before cumming powerfully against the hard plastic of my duster.

I didn't stop there, either.

When I finally looked at the clock, I realized I'd been playing with myself for nearly an hour. I DID NOT want to be found like this by Rafe.

I awkwardly pulled my panties back up, over my insane heels, and got back to work.

Rafe returned 11 minutes later and I tried not to give away how closely I'd come to being discovered.

My cheeks burned at the thought of how humiliating that would have been. . .

And just like that, I was turned on again. Stupid fucking body.

He didn't say anything, just went and took a shower. I sighed, relieved.

But then he was back in only 5 minutes in his robe, showered and dried.

He walked into the living room where I'd just cum. He sniffed, looking around.

He couldn't able to . . . Could he?

He smirked at me, indicating me he really did smell what I'd been doing. I looked away, heart pounding.

Rafe still didn't say anything, just pointed to the couch. "Here." He said.

I hesitated in the kitchen, until he gave me a firmer look, wagged it, then pointed at it again.

Reluctantly, I moved to the couch and sat down, my face burning. What did he want?

He tapped some things into the phone language converter.

"You were touching yourself, weren't you?" The phone asked in Thai.

"No!" I replied, waving my hands. "Not!" I replied eloquently in English.

He didn't speak again, just pointed up to a camera I hadn't seen in the corner of the room and I blanched. He already knew. The sniffing around was probably just him torturing me.

I absolutely BURNED in humiliation at the fact he knew I'd frigged myself to my first Thai girl orgasm in my stupid little maid costume.

I grimaced and leaned over my knees to hide my face, once again annoyed at how slippery my little cunt was becoming again.

He just laughed, and pulled out his cock.

The huge cock that I knew so well, and couldn't deny a part of me had missed.

My mouth watered. God damn it.

He wagged it at me, and and took my hand to gently to pull me to my knees on the floor. I could smell his freshly washed dick.

My new mouth was smaller, my lips plumper, but Anong's mouth and hands had a level of muscle memory that Anya would never match.

When I took his cock into my hand, and eased it into my mouth, the feeling was stupidly sexy but also utterly routine. I had a whore's cocksucking mouth now.

I gave Rafe the first kiss on his rod with my dick sucking lips, and started a blowjob of the quality that only a girl who'd worked in brothels could match.

I couldn't deny a tiny traitorous part of me really had wanted this, had chosen it, over all the better opportunities I'd had as Anya. My better and higher level reasoning seemed to have not mattered.

I surrendered and finally accepted my place, sucking my master's dick with enthusiasm.

Halfway through, he made me pause to take off my panties, smiling at my obviously drooling quim. My arousal about this could not be denied. He pulled my dress down to my midriff, showing my little perky tits and leaving my pussy on display.

I sucked him for another minute or two, before he picked me up easily and set me on the couch. He climbed onto it next to me on his knees, stroking himself, and I realized what he was going to do. He was going to mark me.

It didn't take long. His cock erupted on my face, and I opened my mouth and angled it towards his dick just to try to keep from getting covered. I failed.

Rafe coated my face, my hair, my tits, my maid dress in his cum. Had he saved this up for a week for me?

When he was finally done, I couldn't believe the smell and volume. He'd cum on my face as Anya before, obviously, but this was a new low.

My pussy disagreed, thrumming from the treatment and reaching new levels of wetness.

I sat on the couch, Rafe next to me, moving my leg to the side as if keeping me on display. Why?

The camera. I'd forgotten again about the camera. It had captured all of this.

I wallowed in Rafe's cum, unable to believe how much had changed in less than 24 hours. I'd gone from a poor but promising beautiful girl to a little Thai bangmaid.

How would I ever get out of this?

Do you really want to? That traitorous part of me asked before I could smother it.

+++++++

Author note: It's back! This one still isn't done but I've got a couple more unpolished chapter written. Cadence for this will be once a week at best.