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Chapter 1

Death Row - Part 2
Row2.txt
By Waldo	
Chapter 1 - The death announcement	
Chapter 2 - The robbery	
Chapter 3 - Trailer Park Slut	
Chapter 4 - Time never flies when....	
Chapter 5 - Calvin and Gloria	
Chapter 6 - The first hour of transfer into her body	
Chapter 7 - Bimbo or Mob boss	
Chapter 8 - A visit to a gynecologist	
Chapter 9 - Candy's introduction to John	


Warning - not for reading by minors.  Story deals with 
transgender and strong sexual themes.  All rights reserved.
This story may not be sold or distributed by anyone unless 
it is distributed free.  Copyright must remain with the 
story.

Little Background:  This is a contiuation of the Death Row 
(Row.txt) story that I wrote and released to the Internet a 
little over a year ago.  The first chapter adds some new 
details but also is used to bring the reader up to date as 
to what happened in Death Row 1.  I tried to write this 
part so that anyone who hadn't read or didn't remember 
all of the details of the first one, could enjoy it.  

Death Row - Part 2

By Waldo

Chapter 1 - The death announcement

The ineffective airflow through the small, ten by fourteen feet jail 
cell held the thick cloud of heavy cigar smoke within the bars as if 
the open areas between the bars were also solid walls. The foggy 
smoke, just as the cell's sole occupant, was retained within the 
small rectangle formed by the three walls and jail bars. The long-
term, middle-aged prisoner lying on his back, was staring up at the 
semi-dark ceiling but his unfocused eyes weren't really seeing 
anything. Although it was only a couple of minutes past ten p.m., 
it was already the standard "lights out" time in the cellblock, but 
that rule applied only to the lights within the cells. The corridor 
just on the other side of the jail bars was brilliantly lit by the 
constant-on lights which threw enough light within the jail cell so 
that the vigilant guards could check on every prisoner's status 
every fifteen minutes - even during the sleep period. Death Row 
inmates required special and frequent attention.

Only minutes before, the guard had loudly ordered "Smoking 
period's over - put them out!" then stood just outside this 
particular cell's bars, watching the slow responding prisoner take 
the last inhale, then slowly grind the cigar's lit end against the 
cement floor, extinguishing the cigar. Once the guard was satisfied 
that this prisoner had complied with the schedule, the guard then 
moved to the rest of the cells, one at a time verifying compliance 
with the rules. Finally satisfied with everyone's compliance, the 
guard ordered "Lights Out" then flipped the master light switch 
turning off the lights in each of the cells.

The prisoner waited until he heard the guard's shoe clicks get 
fainter and the soft click of the office door shutting. Then he re-lit 
the cigar, knowing that he could smoke for another ten minutes 
before the guard would make his next series of rounds. If the 
guard questioned the still heavy cloud of smoke in the cell, the 
prisoner could blame it on the cell design. There weren't any air 
flow vents within any of the cells because of the very strict 
security.

The prisoner frequently bent the prison rules, preferring to push 
the system even though it meant that he risked getting a 
punishment for violating the very strict system rules. But tonight, 
he really didn't care if the guards caught him smoking. Just five 
hours ago, the prison doctor had visited him in his cell, 
surrounded by two very protective burly guards. The doctor didn't 
waste any words - "You're dying."

The doctor had discovered the rapidly spreading deadly cancer 
about three months earlier during a yearly physical; determining 
then that the prisoner had only about six months at the most to 
live. But the doctor didn't immediately inform the prisoner, not 
wishing to give the patient the bad news without going through the 
proper channels first. Per regulations, the doctor had decided to 
inform the prisoner's next-of-kin; a brother whose documented 
desire was to keep the severity of the illness secret from the 
prisoner as long as possible. But recent tests proved that the 
prisoner didn't have too much time left. The doctor's visit today 
was to inform the prisoner about the cancer, about how the deadly 
disease had spread throughout his body and to explain why he was 
feeling so sick most of the time. The current diagnosis was that the 
prisoner only had about two to six weeks left.

Surprisingly the prisoner took the bad news quite well. He listened 
to the doctor, asked a couple of questions concerning the doctor's 
expected symptoms and the expected demise date; then lit up his 
cigar, ignoring the doctor, the guards, and the smoking rules as he 
thought about his very limited options. The doctor, recognizing 
that he was dismissed by the prisoner, walked out of the cell, 
followed by one of the two guards. The last guard stared at the 
prisoner, and mumbled "Sorry. Wish that there was something 
that I could do." then shut the heavy cell door.

The tall, handsome guard, with sandy blonde hair, and blue eyes 
had a muscular body that showed he worked out frequently. He 
stood on the other side of the bars, hands behind his back in a 
position of attention as he evaluated the prisoner's mental state. 
For a moment, Officer Greg Mahoney stared at the man that he 
personally hated; but at this moment Greg felt a lot of pity for the 
condemned man. The prisoner raised his head so that he was 
staring back at the guard. A small tear was slowly working its way 
down the prisoner's cheek, toward the corner of the mouth where 
the big, round cigar protruded from his mouth.

The guard's unusually low voice sounded distant as he softly said, 
"Today and today only, I won't enforce the smoking rules during 
my shift. Tomorrow, I've got to do my job."

The prisoner's head nodded slightly acknowledging the guard's 
unexpected gift. Not bothering to remove the cigar from his lips, 
the prisoner mumbled something that sounded like "I refuse to die 
in this cage. Somehow, I'll find a way to escape my death just as I'll 
escape from this prison. Because of your personal concern about 
my welfare, I'm extremely grateful to you. I'll do what I can to 
ensure that those intermittent minor problems that you've been 
having, will cease occurring. Thank you."

Officer Mahoney paused as he mentally debated his response. He 
had suspected that this man had been behind the recent spat of 
sabotage pranks at his trailer, but hadn't been able to prove it. 
That this prisoner had ordered one of his men to put the live 
rattlesnake in Mahoney's bed. That he had been behind the 
electrification of Mahoney's commode so that when Mahoney peed, 
the mild electrical current had traveled up the pee stream 
attacking his most sensitive area. Mahoney hadn't been able to 
prove it but he knew that those and other destructive pranks 
against him, had been ordered by the man that he was staring at - 
the man that had just received the news of his newest death 
sentence. Deciding that their feud was over, the young guard 
decided to forgive the man who'd caused him so much personal 
grief lately. Clearing his throat, Officer Mahoney asked, "Do you 
want me to request Social Services to bring your brother in to see 
you?"

"No. My brother knew about this but didn't bother to come see me 
or tell me. I, John Augustus, will deal with my grave-robbing 
brother in my own way. Have my lawyer come see me!"

******

The tall, attractive, young redhead picked up a small bottle of 
scotch and looked at it as if she was reading the label through her 
sunglasses. She was actually looking beyond the label, identifying 
the mirrors that the cashier used to watch for shoplifters. Placing 
the bottle back on the shelf, she picked up a different brand bottle 
and changed her stance so that she could examine some of the 
other wall mounted mirrors while she pretended to read the 
bottle's label.

Satisfied with her analysis of the mirror placement and the 
cashier's limited line of sight, she put the bottle back on the shelf 
and picked up two small bottles, quickly cradling them in her arm 
where her body blocked the cashier's observation through the 
overhead mirrors. Walking slowly around the end cap of one of the 
rows, she slipped one of the bottles into her open large purse, and 
closed her purse in one quick movement. Then she continued 
walking straight toward the cashier while still carrying the other 
bottle in the crook of her arm.

She was clad completely in virginal white from her v-neck blouse to 
her white skirt, to her three-inch white heels. Knowing that the 
cashier was staring at her with an obvious personal interest, she 
confidently walked down the main aisle - her obviously bra-less 
breasts jiggling and her hips swaying to each step. She knew that 
she was a flirt and a tease with her indecently short skirt, exposed 
hose tops, and heels. The heels and short dress make her already 
tall body look taller and intimidating, so that she stood out when 
she was near other women.

Stopping at the cashier counter, she pulled her shoulders back, 
thrusting her exposed, low cut cleavage out more prominently. She 
placed the bottle on the counter, smiled a radiant smile at the 
cashier, and asked in a sultry voice "I'm planning a party next 
week. How much is a case of this?"

The cashier picked up the bottle, ran it through his scanner, 
glanced at the cash register's cost display, then punched some 
numbers into his calculator. Looking up from his calculator, he 
proclaimed "Pint bottles are eight dollars each, so a case will cost 
ninety-six dollars plus tax - about a hundred dollars or so. You can 
buy the same amount of whiskey in the larger liter bottles for 
about eighty-three dollars plus tax."

She raised her eyebrows, pursed her lips as if to say "oho", then 
with her mouth still open, flicked her tongue out slightly to lightly 
touch her already glistening ruby-red lips; before returning her 
face to her `We both know that I'm beautiful' smile. She'd clearly 
learned how to flirt with men's fantasies, turning herself into a 
sensual glamour girl or coy seductress as needed.

Using a practiced flourish, she slipped two fingers down the middle 
of her cleavage, pulling out a twenty-dollar bill as she pulled her 
shoulders back, resulting in her cleavage being displayed more 
readily. Holding the folded money between the tips of two 
manicured ruby-red long fingernails, she replied in a very sexy 
mummer "I'll come back when I'm ready for the party. Will you be 
here?"

Her added emphasis of the word "you" wasn't ignored by the 
cashier. The cashier's eyes flitted from the twenty-dollar bill to the 
cleavage, to the woman's ruby-red lips, to the sunglass covered 
eyes, then back to the cleavage being prominently displayed for his 
enjoyment. Not lifting his eyes from her obviously firm chest, he 
stammered "I work weekends and most evenings."

Using the grace of a Black Widow spider that's getting ready to 
devour her mate, the woman's lips pursed up as she simply replied 
"Really?"

The man's obvious staring at her breasts stopped as he jerked 
himself back to reality. Turning his attention back to the cash 
register, he jerkily ran the liquor pint bottle through his scanner, 
dropped the bottle into a plain brown bag and punched some 
numbers on his cash register keyboard. Turning to stare at her 
again, he stated in a slightly shaky voice "I'm authorized to give a 
ten percent discount to special customers. With the discount, it's 
only seven dollars and sixty-two cents."

Shaking her head in a laughing motion, as her mane of curly red 
hair floated around her beautiful face slightly before settling back 
down into a frame around her face, she laughed out loud as she 
held the money out to the cashier. Staring at her image in the 
mirror behind the cashier, she tossed her long hair back, licked 
her lips, then pursed her lips in a pout while observing her 
reflected image. Satisfied with her sexy woman image reflected in 
the mirror, she directed her attention to the cashier again, asking, 
"What's your name?"

"Bob. My friends all call me Bob. My real name's Robert but I 
prefer Bob. You can call me Bob." he quickly stammered as he took 
the money from her slender fingers.

She watched as the cash register flew open, revealing the full 
drawers of money, quickly estimating that there must be at least a 
thousand dollars in the drawer and it was only seven p.m. - by the 
midnight closing time, there should be at least two to three 
thousand dollars in the drawer. Turning her attention back to the 
cashier who was holding her change, she responded "Men named 
Bob are always so sexy. You can call me Andrea."

She held her hand out for the money. As he handed it to her, he 
lightly rubbed his fingertips against her palm but she pretended 
that she didn't notice the suggestive touch. Dropping her change 
into the brown paper bag, she whispered "I'll be back to see you. 
Don't forget that I'm one of your good customers, Bob!"

She picked up the bag and walked very seductively out the door, 
knowing that the high heels and tight skirt made her ass look very 
sexy. She walked outside and climbed behind the steering wheel of 
her new convertible - with temporary Virginia tags.

Opening her purse, she pulled out the pint bottle that she'd just 
stolen, ignoring the exposed pistol in her still open purse. She 
opened the bottle and swallowed a mouthful of the liquor. As the 
dark liquor burned it's way down her sensitive throat, she lit a 
cigarette and stared at the liquor store; knowing that she could've 
robbed him so easily. Only problem was that he definitely would 
remember her; and would easily be able to pick her out of a 
Washington DC police lineup.

In the old days, she wouldn't have played with him. She would've 
just burst in, pointed the gun at him, emptied the cash drawer and 
ran out. If the cashier resisted - well, that's why she'd originally 
been sentenced to Death Row.

In the old days, the cashier wouldn't have re-acted to her the way 
that Bob just did. The cashier would've looked at his new 
"customer" very suspicious, his hand never far from the alarm and 
hidden gun.  

That's because in the old days, Andrea wasn't a sexy, beautiful tall 
woman, with tight form-fitting clothes and a seductive 'let's fuck' 
personality. In the old days, she was a male convict named Robert 
Williams who just happened to spend several years on Death Row 
in the cell adjacent to John Augustus' cell. Four weeks ago, Robert 
Williams became Andrea Bell permanently - twenty-four hours a 
day, seven days a week. Thanks to John Augustus and his money.

Prior to sharing adjacent cells in the same prison's Death Row, 
they were both criminals but at different "social and managerial" 
levels. John Augustus was a rich and powerful gang boss who was 
given the death penalty for ordering several people's death while 
Bob Williams was a petty liquor store robber who went too far on a 
couple of botched robberies. John schemed, ordered and planned 
illegal acts while Bob committed unplanned robberies under the 
influence of booze. They knew each other only because they were 
placed in adjoining cells on Death Row. Bob wasn't the sort of 
person that John would've associated with on the outside world, 
but under the tight and restrictive security of Death Row, they 
became best friends. Two very dissimilar men who could talk and 
joke with each other, supporting each other as they both waited for 
their individual dates to sit in the electric chair.

Unwilling to accept his court-decided fate, Augustus used his still 
powerful outside influence to have a Chinese magician's grandson 
kidnapped by his former gang. He used the grandson's life to 
convince the magician to invoke some ancient centuries old 
Chinese rituals - rituals that would cumulate in a body exchange. 
It wouldn't be a complete body exchange - more of a transfer 
because it only went one way - a person's soul, memory, and 
personality could be moved into another person's body. John 
would escape the electric chair by transferring into someone else's 
body.

The transfer had some very severe limitations. It could only be into 
a female host body, the female host body had to be chosen by the 
evening stars position using obscure astrological calculations, the 
departed client body - the transferee - would die when the 
exchange became permanent, and it took over three weeks to 
complete the exchange. When the female host body was in the 
geographic location specified by a complex mathematical formula 
based upon the star's position, and the location of the transferee, 
the exchange could be started. When the stars were in the right 
position, the transferee had to take some of the Chinaman's herbs. 
Then that night, the transfer would start. During the first sleep 
cycle, the transferee would assume control of the host body for one 
hour before returning to their original body. Every day, the 
transferee could stay one more hour in the host body, until the 
twentieth-four day when the transfer would become permanent.

Augustus wanted the transfer for himself, but after discovering the 
limitations of winding up in a female body and not really trusting 
the Chinaman's somewhat unwilling participation, he became a 
little nervous. So he wanted a test. Using his next-cell friend as a 
guinea pig, Augustus tested the Chinaman's magic on Bob 
Williams. Williams leaped at the opportunity to cheat death, not 
caring that he would soon be a woman.

Williams had been in and out of prisons all his life, learning the 
hard way as a young boy in reform school that prisons have their 
own social pecking order and means to obtain sexual relief. In his 
teenage years, the slender boy had quickly became another reform 
school prisoner's girlfriend, learning to service his new mate who 
protected Bob from other prisoners who wanted the same thing - 
Bob's tight ass and warm mouth. Bob's boyfriend quickly taught 
Bob to pretend to be the female gender when Bob was in his 
presence; and to personally enjoy the new role expected of him. 
After that first time behind bars, Bob used that reform school 
experience to make his subsequent jailhouse visits more 
pleasurable for him. So, living the rest of someone else's life as a 
woman wasn't that much of a psychological problem for Williams.

Bob Williams lucked out in his body exchange. Her name was 
Andrea Bell. Andrea was a painter - an artist who had rented a 
remote farm house in the Virginia mountains, little realizing that 
the house was at the location specified by the star's position. And 
that she was destined to be the host to someone that would take 
over her body.

She took a year's lease on the house and moved into it, putting 
away the very professional clothes that she normally wore. Her 
appearance had always been very prim and proper, from her pulled 
back hair bun, to her choice of clothes that hid her shapely body 
behind clothes that a minister's wife would approve of. She wore 
plain glasses in public because she liked the way the glasses toned 
down her facial shape - making her seem less beautiful and less 
attractive to those horny men that kept leering at her. She wore a 
phony wedding ring to also keep men from hitting on her. Although 
she had a pretty face, and a shapely body, Andrea did everything 
she could to hide her attractiveness.

The first couple of days in the house, Andrea was befriended by 
some near-by neighbors - a retired couple named Ralph and 
Martha Emerson. Andrea reminded them of their married daughter 
and Andrea was reminded by them of her distant family.

Then the transfer started - increasing the length of time that 
Williams was in control of her body by one hour per day. Williams 
would go to sleep in his cell and wake up in Andrea's body in her 
bed at the farm.  When his daily transfer time into her body was 
finished for the day, Andrea's body would fall asleep again and the 
real Andrea would resume control of her body when she woke up 
while Bob would wake up in his incarcerated male body. 

At first Andrea thought that she was masturbating in her sleep 
because her body would be tender with obvious signs of 
masturbation when she would wake up. Then she thought that she 
was sleep-walking because she would wake up in the morning with 
her lips coated with fresh lipstick, her short plain fingernails 
coated with fingernail polish; and the farmhouse doors that had 
been locked from the inside were unlocked.

The real kicker came when she woke up in her car - but she'd fell 
asleep hours earlier in her bed. The car was parked on the side of 
the road a couple of miles from the farm. She was fully dressed, 
her car engine was warm and there were fresh cigarette butts in 
the ashtray, coated with the same color lipstick that was on her 
lips. And she didn't smoke.

Confused by what was going on, she fled to the Emerson's house, 
querying them about the potential of poltergeists in the old 
farmhouse. Too terrified to go back home that night, she stayed 
with the old couple, going to sleep in their daughter's empty 
bedroom. Because he suffered from insomnia and couldn't sleep 
that night, Ralph observed a different Andrea - or at least there 
was something very different about her - as she entered his 
kitchen later that night. This was a different Andrea with more 
changes than just her Utah accent being replaced by a very real 
Brooklyn accent. This was an Andrea that smoked, drank whisky 
straight from the bottle, lightly flirted with the old man, and wasn't 
terrified any more. Glancing at her watch as if she had to be 
somewhere that late at night and ignoring his recommendations, 
this Andrea drove back to her farmhouse in the middle of the 
night.

Ralph visited the farmhouse the next day to discover several 
strange men hanging around the farmhouse, guarding Andrea or 
the person that he knew as Andrea. Ralph didn't know it, but these 
were men that Augustus' gangster brother provided to keep the 
host body from running away before the exchange was completed. 
They were led by a man called Big Al, who looked and acted like 
the typical stereotyped gangster. They were as out of place on a 
rural Virginia farm as a fisherman wearing a suit.

Every day as Bob's time in Andrea's body increased so that Bob 
was in control longer during the daylight hours, Ralph kept seeing 
the different Andrea rather than the girl that he had originally met. 
This new Andrea was a woman that liked to wear tube tops, tight 
skirts, and changed her overall appearance and personality so that 
she looked like a slut.

During the times that Bob wasn't strutting around in her body, the 
real Andrea would wake up in her bed, discovering that she was 
still a prisoner of Big Al and his men. She suspected that they were 
fucking her while she slept - the dried cum and bruises all over her 
body were the clues; but she really didn't know what was occurring 
to her while she "slept" more and more each day.

During one free period when she was allowed to roam the upper 
floors of her farmhouse, she hid some video cameras in her 
bedroom and bathroom, recording a video of herself - or the person 
that she called her alter ego - being a very willing participant in 
fucking one of the guards. Terrified at seeing her own body acting 
so wantonly, she tried to escape but they captured her and kept 
her tied to the bed from then on.

As punishment, the walls beside her bed were covered with 
photographs of Andrea's body - taken when her alter ego was in 
control of her body - willing fucking and sucking every one of the 
guards. Some of the pictures showed her engaged in sex with one 
guard at a time while in other pictures, her three orifices were the 
recipients of group sex. There was one picture positioned so that 
she could clearly see the details where her naked body was 
bouncing up and down on a man's cock while her hand directing a 
stream of pumping cum from another man's cock onto her 
grinning cum-coated face. Just the thought of her lips touching a 
man's cock was enough to make her gag, much less to know that 
her alter ego frequently participated in those debaucheries.

She managed to escape into the woods once but when her body 
refused to go any further and went to sleep, her alter ego returned 
her to her prison.

Then on the last day when the real Andrea only had one more hour 
to exist, the new Andrea taped a video message to the real Andrea, 
telling her what was occurring to her. When the real Andrea fell 
into her last sleep, Williams's body died in prison as Williams 
assumed permanent control of Andrea's body and identity. After 
turning the deceased body of Robert Williams over to a mortuary 
managed by a Chinese family, the prison doctor closed the file on 
Williams and his weird fatal sleep disorder. The Chinese mortuary 
secretly moved the dead man's body to Virginia and used their 
mystical powers to capture the deceased woman's spirit into the 
dead man's body, unbeknownst to either Augustus or Williams. 
The old Chinaman had methods to keep the real Andrea's spirit 
from disappearing forever.

The new Andrea went wild, spending the old Andrea's money to 
change her appearance, getting away from the original Andrea's 
prim and proper look to a new wild and sexy look. The new Andrea 
immediately threw away the old Andrea's "schoolmarm" wardrobe, 
then bought new clothes that showed off her body curves, and 
changed her hair color and hairstyle to display a more modern 
sultry appearance. While she still looked slutty, she was a 
beautiful slut.

With Augustus' lawyer's assistance, the new Andrea Bell visited 
Augustus in prison once, showing her new body and appearance to 
her benefactor. Seeing his former cellmate in a new body proved to 
John that the old man's magic worked and that he could escape 
his rapidly approaching execution.

The new Andrea discovered that she was an extremely horny 
woman and couldn't get enough sex. She enjoyed her new female 
appearance and used every cosmetic and clothing trick to make 
herself look more attractive. After the bodyguard's left the 
farmhouse, she spent her nights in bars, picking up men to take 
back to her city hotel room, enjoying the difference that a pussy 
and boobs made in her new life.

The farmhouse that Andrea vacated after the exchange, was 
cleaned by the Chinese owners and rented to a young woman 
named Candice Morgan. A woman that didn't know the fate of the 
previous occupant or the fate destined for her.

Candice or Candy as her friends knew her. She was a young, 
gorgeous, tanned, tall, green-eyed blonde, with an well-endowed, 
slim, curvaceous 38-24-36 body. A woman that looked like she 
belonged on one of those television shows where everyone wears 
nothing but bathing suits all the time. A woman with the type of 
body and natural looks that would cause men to turn around and 
watch her as she walked by. A body and face that caused women 
to be jealous because her beauty was so easy and natural. A 
woman that truly deserved to be nicknamed Candy. She was 
married to Mickey Morgan- the lucky bastard - who was finishing 
up his last job out-of-state and would soon be joining her at the 
farm.

******

Hanging on Augustus' wall was the calendar with the dates that 
John was using to determine the progress of his transfer. Using 
the dates given him by the Chinese man, John had marked the 
calendar in different colors. Day's one through twenty-four were 
the days that Williams made his exchange. Days twenty-five 
through fifty-three were the four weeks that Williams had spent in 
his new female body.

Today was day fifty-four. Days fifty-four through eighty-four were 
the thirty days that John still had to wait, before the conditions 
were right for him to begin his exchange into his future body. Day 
eighty-five being the first day that the transfer could start because 
of the position of the stars. Days eighty-five through one hundred 
and nine were the twenty-four days that it would take for him to 
complete his transfer - if he lived that long.

Hanging on the wall beside the calendar, were three photographs 
of Candice, all taken when she wasn't aware that she was being 
photographed. One was a full-length shot as she walked across a 
shopping center parking lot, showing how fantastic she looked 
even in casual clothes. Another photograph showed her 
stupendous body wearing nothing but a skimpy bikini as she 
watered the flowers around the privacy of the farmhouse. And the 
third, was a close-up photograph of her beautiful face - smiling as 
Candice talked to one of the town shopkeepers. With her centerfold 
body, thick, pouty lips and big, innocent looking expressive 
emerald-green eyes, she had a youthful body that just screamed 
"fuck me!"

John glanced down at his hand, seeing the blotchy pale skin from 
three years of being behind bars, and the sagging flesh from his 
recent weight loss. Staring at her face again, he tried to imagine 
what he would look like when he was in control of her body. He 
know that he wouldn't wear all those ruffles and skimpy clothes. 
Rather he pictured himself projecting a stronger image when he 
took over her body. An image of her dressed as a black leather 
dominatrix flitted through his imagination, causing him to groan 
and sit down heavily on his cot.

Her totally feminine and sex kitten body wasn't the body that 
Augustus wanted for himself. He really wanted his old Peter Lorre 
type body, only his old body's deteriorating health was 
unacceptable. If he was going to exchange bodies, he wanted a 
Cary Grant, John Wayne or Arnold Schwarznegger type body - a 
very rugged masculine body. But as he told himself - when you're a 
beggar, you take what you can get.

As someone formerly high up in the mob social structure, he could 
easily buy all the pussy that he wanted back then. Or they would 
give it to him just because of who he was - a powerful and rich 
gang boss. His time in a pussy-less prison was always under the 
tight confines of the death row, so he'd never experienced sex with 
a man - except for the one convict that gave him a quick blowjob 
before John wound up under the tighter security on Death Row.

Augustus wasn't looking forward to becoming a woman. His desire 
was to be pardoned, to walk away from the prison, and find a little 
farmhouse where he could retire - someplace where he or his 
brother's criminal exploits weren't known. A place where he could 
grow his vegetables and sit around the local diner drinking coffee 
with his neighbors. A place where he was free to enjoy the last few 
years of his life, safe from the gangster revenge that took so many 
of his predecessors.



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