In the finale, Andrew’s only hope of escape from the mob’s high-end brothel is to learn to use his wife’s body to pleasure as many rich men as possible in Swapped by the Mob 3, available on Body Swap Stories, Smashwords or Amazon.
In the conclusion of the Swapped by the Mob series, Andrew is still swapped and forcibly feminized in his wife’s body while still stuck in the mob’s high-end brothel. There he must earn his body back by making enough money to pay off his debt. The only way to do this is by selling his wife’s body, revealing every inch of skin, and submitting to as many clients as possible.
Madame Elizabeth seems to delight in singling him out for punishment, whisking him away to her office and making him pleasure her. That’s where Andrew discovers the secret of his new body. The desire for punishment. The lust that rises with each slap and each derogatory name. It’s the only bright spot in his dark situation.
Because Andrew is unable to compete with the other men-turned-women in the brothel. They’re too classy, too beautiful, too enchanting. They take all the clients and he never even gets a chance.
Plus, his wife is on the outside borrowing even more money and spiraling him into ever-increasing debt. It’s like she’s enjoying being the man. Does she even want her body back? Is Andrew doomed to be a prostitute forever?
It’s only when he gives up completely that he discovers something that sets him apart. If he can tease men, taunt them, ridicule them until they have no choice but to purchase him and punish him deeply and exquisitely, then he can earn his way out…and soak in the pleasure of shame that burns into ecstasy from being so forcibly feminized.
Andrew followed Madame Elizabeth back to the main foyer. His thoughts were racing from his recent meeting with Vanessa. She was spending money she didn’t have, forcing him deeper into debt. He was paying for his bad judgement a thousand times over. The thought of being stuck in this brothel, in his wife’s body, forced to service hundreds of strangers made him release a choked sob. He cut if off as Madame Elizabeth whipped around to look at him. He expected a sharp slap but was surprised when Madame Elizabeth instead led him back to an inner office through a door that had been disguised to look like a blank wall.
He stood rigidly in the middle of the small room, looking about. It was sparse. A desk at one end between two ornate chairs. A polished wooden cabinet taller than Andrew to one side of the room.
Madame Elizabeth closed the door behind them then circled around to perch on her desk in front of him. She plucked a tissue from a tissue box and handed it to him. That simple gesture of kindness broke Andrew.
He grabbed the tissue and collapsed into the red velvet chair, sobbing. He couldn’t hold back as the emotion rushed out of him. Andrew always been the stoic but it felt cathartic to release this aching fear. When his tissue was soaked he plucked another from the box and cried.
Madame Elizabeth watched him silently with her piercing green eyes for a few minutes until he’d cried himself out.
Finally, she spoke. “Dear girl,” she said, reaching towards him. Andrew recoiled but she only caressed his cheek, her fingers surprisingly warm and tender. “I have seen so much betrayal in my time here. You are not the first to find that the owner does not want their body back.”
“No,” Andrew said, wiping his nose with the tissue and pushing his wife’s silky hair back out of his eyes. “She didn’t say that. She’s just making my debt bigger because she can’t get a job.”
Madame Elizabeth’s green eyes softened and she shook her head. “You will be better off accepting that you are Vanessa now and forever.”
“No!” Andrew snapped, then glanced up quickly in case he’d angered Madame Elizabeth. She looked at him with an enigmatic smile but said nothing, her eyes boring into him until he looked down. “No,” he said more quietly. “We’ll swap back when I’ve paid off my debt.”
“Very well,” Madame Elizabeth said, standing suddenly.
Her look sharpened and Andrew sensed the change in the room. He sat up straight, hands in his lap, awaiting her instruction.
“Get yourself together and get back to work,” Madame Elizabeth snapped.
She opened the door and he was halfway through when she called his name.
“Vanessa.”
Andrew turned to look at her.
“If you want to pay off your debt quicker, you will need to earn more than your counterpart can spend.” She looked him up and down, appraising him. “A girl like you would be in high demand as a prostitute. If you can play the part.”
She was right. Strip clubs and cam girls weren’t going to do it.
Andrew returned to his room and redid his makeup. His mascara had streaked from his crying. His skin was a mess. His hair disheveled.
He started over, wiping everything away and reapplying as he’d learned from Gabriella. Gabriella. The room seemed so empty without her.
Andrew stared at his wife’s soft face in the mirror as he made her up and combed her mocha-brown hair. As he reapplied his red lipstick, the image of his wife sucking a stranger’s cock came back to him. He shivered, scrunching Vanessa’s little nose in distaste at the memory. Though he would need to do so much more before he could be free.
As he completed his makeup his mind continued to dwell on the events of yesterday. God, he could still taste the cock in his mouth. Remembered how it felt to wrap his wife’s sweet lips around it. And how horny she’d looked in the mirror. How slutty. How good that had made him feel watching her. Punishing her. Punishing himself. The thought made him ache once in his core and he shook it away.
He did his makeup thicker today. Blush and eyeliner and mascara and lipliner. Everything he remembered.
He shucked off the cami top and jeans and flipped through his closet for a dress fit for a prostitute. He found one slinky and sparkly that clung to his wife’s shapely form, buoying up his breasts and revealing miles of leg. Silver high heels finished the outfit, forcing him to balance precariously. When he stepped in front of the mirror there was something missing. Though his wife’s body was dressed like a prostitute, she didn’t look like one. The woman in the reflection was timid. Scared. She looked like she was playing dress-up, not out to conquer men.
Andrew stood up straighter and smoothed out his dress, his wife’s soft hands travelling down his body. He thought about his debt. He thought about getting free. Tried to buck himself up with some sort of motivation but it didn’t help. He still looked terrified.
Returning downstairs, he was met with a sea of scantily clad women. They stood around in their groups and Andrew joined the prostitutes. It was obvious which group they were. Skimpy dresses. Confident looks. Bodies screaming sex. Wry smiles. They’d mastered their sexuality in a way that Andrew hadn’t yet. His wife’s body still scared him. The actions he would have to take in her body scared him even more.
Andrew lined up with them, wobbling slightly on his heels. No one spoke to him. A statuesque blonde glanced at him and dismissed him. A brunette to his right tittered to her friend and gestured his way. Andrew could see why. He did look ridiculous. His makeup was second rate. His outfit didn’t fit his attitude. He didn’t belong here.
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