Shemale Whore and Arab Pimp

Hermaphrodite Whore
It had been over a year since Johnny threw that tantrum that
ruined me and got him excommunicated from mom.

Holding me down when mom walked through the door with
her friends, colleagues, whatever and they all gasped and
screamed as my big brother finished doing me.
We had ample warning, we could have all vanished when
we heard them at the door.
Bobby ran away and got dressed. The chickenshit
denied any knowledge of the event.
Smart but chickenshit.

Mom severed all ties between me and our doctor's
little perv ring, so I had no more money coming in.
I did, however, have a bunch of loot and money
locked away in my room.
She let me keep it all for some reason.

Here I was, 18, at the start of summer vacation,
involuntarily retired from the “oldest profession,” my
once girlish body now muscular yet still somewhat feminine.

Testosterone and personal gym trainers are no match for genetics.
Plus, my doctor “clients” had killed every hair follicle below my
head in exchange for my services.

I was no longer gorgeous by any means; I looked like
a lady bodybuilder who used too many 'roids.

My B cups had shrunk to barely A's but I still had
prominent, erectile nipples.

Mom had gotten me a job at a law office, running errands,
filing but mostly just gopher stuff and making coffee.
Still the pay was surprisingly good, enough to buy books
for college in the Fall with some pocket money to boot.
Piddling sum, though, compared to what I was making
a year and a half earlier from my affluent 'clients.'

I showed up at work in trousers and white shirt, my
still feminine waist and hips showing through the
attempted camouflage.

I knocked on the boss's door and entered after he
acknowledged me.

“OMG I KNOW this guy,” I thought.
He started telling me about my job description, looked
up from his desk and froze for an instant.

“Tommie-girl?” he asked, shocked yet nostalgic.