"The TOWN did it?!
 
Visit Helleston...
A New You!

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Admin Note: Originally published on Bigcloset Classic on Monday, 07-10-2002 - 10:49:31 pm and migrated to BigCloset TopShelf, this retro classic was pulled out of the closet, and re-presented for our newer readers. ~Sephrena

Image Credits: Divider licensed for use from Photoshopgraphics.com. ~Sephrena

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Part 1
 
There is nary a map made by AAA or a page in any atlas which shows the tiny village of Helleston, hidden away in the hills outside of Oak Ridge, Tennessee. No interstate highways come anywhere near it, and only two state roads lead into and out of Helleston, one north/south and the other north-northeast/south-southwest. Signs along the roads tell approaching motorists that tiny Helleston, pop 666, is a place they'll never forget.

Interestingly, the town is not visible from overflying airplanes. The folds of the hills, thick forests, and constant low cloud show only two narrow roads passing through the mountains. No matter what kind of weather El Nino brings to the rest of Tennessee, Helleston is always in a low cloud or fog situation. And yet, once a person enters the town, clear blue skies and bright sun are seen. The Devil is proud of his own little hideaway.

Beside the signs showing the minuscule population of Helleston, there are no 'Welcome to Helleston' signs, or the rows of BPOE, Rotary Club and other service organizations usually seen. There are signs saying, 'Helleston - Our Little Hell on Earth' and 'Population Strictly Enforced' and below that, 'Visit Us to Lose Yourself.' Drivers seeing the bottom sign always assume that they are entering a mountain resort in which they can relax and shed their cares.

Ah, the travails into which assuming can lead someone...people entering Helleston sometimes stay there to make up for lost souls to keep the population at 666, or if they ever do leave again, they do so in whatever form the demons residing there have left them in after having their fun.

No one ever leaves Helleston with a memory of having been there. Luckily, very few people stray onto the four roads leading into Helleston. But as the law of averages works, there are occasionally vehicles which make wrong turns, with luckless souls onboard who have lost both their way and their way of life.

Anne Long had been spending the last week and a half communing with nature in the mountains and hills of central Tennessee. She was on a vacation from her job as a bank teller in Louisville. Anne felt very much at home amongst the trees she was spending her time with. A very good looking young red head, Anne graduated from LSU two years before, and was a bit disappointed to find the job market so closed after working so many years to attain her degree in Botany.

Her mental outlook was formed early in her high school years, and nurtured by the exposure to the real world Anne experienced in college. Men ran everything, ruined everything, and kept everything to themselves. Men waged war, abused women, and tore Mother Nature apart in their efforts to dominate the land.

Though her supermodel looks topped by fire red hair brought her more attention than she could handle in school, Anne was so turned off by what she perceived as man's rape of the planet that she turned away from any males trying to attract her. Her attitude even left a mark on the other women around her, who avoided her because of her extreme ideas.

While more or less forced to dress in an alluring manner while at work, Anne was more at home in the loose fitting sweatshirts and jeans she wore while traveling amongst her friends, the trees. Their awesome majesty was inviting, and so Anne found her place. The mountain bike she was riding could easily work its way up and down the hills of the Appalachian Mountains. The rack on back carried her tent and food supplies. Anne saw that she was running a bit low on food while fixing her breakfast, and decided to find a store to get reprovisioned.

As she pedaled along a deer trail, Anne spotted a two lane road at the bottom of the hill, and so turned to angle her way down. When she got to the road, it was almost a matter of tossing a coin as to which way to go. The atlas she kept in her pack had a detailed inset of the area she was in, but this road didn't appear on it. Anne wondered if maybe it was a private roadway, but decided to go to the left and keep her fingers crossed.

The road seemed to be almost level, with no uphill grades to tax her leg muscles. After about ten miles, Anne noticed cloud cover developing overhead, and wondered if she was in for some rain. She passed a sign announcing the town of Helleston, and figured she had guessed right on her choice of direction. She wondered about the tiny population, but figured there would have to be a grocery store. Anne failed to notice the other signs that followed while she pondered her search for food.

At approximately the same time she noted buildings ahead, Anne saw the sky overhead opening up to clear blue once again. Puzzled by the lack of cars on the street, she stopped to ask the first woman she saw about where she could find a grocer. The woman grinned an almost malicious smile, and said, "Well hello, you're new here aren't you? There is a grocery store three blocks ahead and to the right. But first, let me introduce you to someone."

Anne got off her bike, to walk it alongside the woman she'd just met. "Thanks. My name is Anne, and I've been spending some time in the hills east of here. This is beautiful country!"

The woman put her arm around Anne's shoulders, and said, "Yes, beautiful country, a beautiful newcomer. You'll like it here!"

Anne should have been worried by what she heard, but was already feeling euphoric. The latest resident of Helleston was about to be assimilated.

Anne was led into a small office after parking her bike out front. She did not see the bike vanish into thin air. While waiting in a foyer while the woman went behind a door, Anne looked at the pictures hanging on the walls. All had one or two people standing next to a stunningly handsome man, who even Anne had to admit was someone she could get to like. She also saw a sign on the desk showing current population data. It showed that there was currently a total of 662, with a need for 4 new residents. As she watched, it changed to 663 and 3. Just then, the woman came back out, followed by the very same man Anne had seen in the photos.

"Hell-o Anne," he said in a deep melodious voice. "I'd like to give you my own personal welcome to Helleston. It's my little home away from home. I understand you hate men. I hope you won't extend that feeling to me. I want to put your hate to good use. How would like to be able to punish men for what they've done?"

Anne watched as the other woman went to the front door, turned and bowed her head to the man addressing her, then left. She then turned back to her new master, her eyes opened. "Yes, Lord Satan, I am yours to command. I await your instructions."

Satan held his hand over Anne's head and snapped his fingers. Her loose fitting clothes were replaced by a beautiful dress and high heeled pumps. "Welcome to our town. I'm so glad you joined us of your own free will. We can't have you looking like a waif for your welcome photo, so this will be your attire for now. Let's go take your picture!"

Anne was led by Satan to a spot in the back of the building which had an impossibly large back yard. Satan saw the confusion in her eyes, and said, "Fret not, my dear. The laws of man and nature do not apply here. I alone define how things look and occur." A photographer appeared, snapped a few pictures, then disappeared. An 8x10 of Anne and Satan, set in a glossy black frame, popped into view on the wall inside, joining the other recent recruits to Helleston.

Satan led Anne back inside, but before he entered, he looked up and shook his fist, saying, "You've lost another one. She's mine now!"

When he came into the building, Satan saw Anne marveling at her new picture. "You look so enticing in that dress. Do you like it?"

"No, my lord. It makes me a delight for men. I want to punish men!"

"And so you shall, my dear," Satan replied. "Do you like the color of the frame on your picture?"

Anne noticed that hers was the only one in gloss black. "Yes, that is the best representation of the blackness in my soul, the blackness I wish to show to men!"

Satan once again raised his hand, and said, "So be it!"

Anne was now in a tightly fitted black patent leather body suit which clung to every curve of her body. Her ample breasts were individually standing out from the top of her chest, and her tiny waist was drawn in even further by the built in corset of the suit, making her hips and ass look huge by comparison. Her feet were enclosed in stiletto heeled boots which came all the way up to her crotch. Anne's hands were in gloves which somehow were tight enough to give the dexterity of bare fingers. Her long red hair was drawn up behind her head in a ponytail, and a black domino mask covered her eyes.

Satan watched as Anne placed her clenched fists on her hips to examine her new garb, then said, "You look outstanding, Mistress Satanica. The tools of your trade are all now waiting for you to put them to use in your dungeon downstairs. Should you ever want to completely hide your enticing face, a full head covering helmet is also on hand."

Strutting over to a position directly in front of Satan, she dared to reach out and give him a quick hug, then replied, "Yes, thank you, Lord Satan. I am now your instrument of punishment, Mistress Satanica. I can't wait to sink my claws into some deserving males and undeserving females!"

now, on to part 2...
 
 
Part 2
 
Jim Martin was on a cross country trip. He had made some good sales in Chicago, and was heading east to visit the Washington-Baltimore-Philly megalopolis, where he hoped to expand his sales base. The vintage panel van he was driving creaked and groaned with every bump he hit, but until he made a lot more sales, his trusted steed would have to take him and his wares on many more journeys. Then again, the profits he made by obtaining his wares directly from their manufacturers and selling them at near retail to his customers in the large cities would soon give him plenty of working capital. The current load he carried damn near filled the back of his small van, but would hopefully draw many sales and orders for more of the same.

Stacked closest to the front of the van were the boxes of costumes. He didn't want any of the heavier boxes to come crashing down on them, ruining the careful packing job he'd done. The largest of the costume boxes had a large number of sizes of a black latex dominatrix catsuit, with matching gloves and leather belts and masks. There was another set of costumes in many sizes for a "Patient's Dream" Nurse outfit. As a matter of course, the small amount of material involved meant these boxes were much smaller. The other costume, of which Jim had stocked many of each size because of popularity, was a French Maid costume which included white gloves and black fishnet hose, along with the dress, apron and cap.

Behind these were a number of boxes containing tools of the adult trade. A good number of vibrators, dildos, whips, paddles, clamps, gags, cuffs and straps were crammed into these boxes, along with batteries for those wishing to put their toys to immediate use. Jim had considered bringing along some aphrodisiacs, but decided that fluids would be too difficult to handle.

At the very back of the van were the real sellers of Jim's trip. There were small boxes of shoes and larger boxes of boots, all in black only for this trip, but in many sizes, and none with a heel of less than five inches. Jim expected the Ballet Toed boots to sell very well, even though they were the most expensive items in the van. Current market trends showed them to be a big draw.

Jim was tooling along nicely on the interstate, making good time since nearly everybody was paying no attention whatsoever to the posted speed limit. As it got close to 6 in the evening, he decided he'd had enough of the road for that day. Jim looked at signs for food and lodging at the next few exits, then decided to get off and explore. He much preferred the food at real restaurants to that served at typical interstate area eateries.

He stopped at a gas station to top off the tank, then headed off down the road. Jim made a couple of turns getting deeper into the hills, then realized he was lost. The sun had just set, and cloud was obscuring the moon and stars. He had nothing to navigate by, and decided to just head on down the road he was on, without making any more turns.

Jim noted a sign saying 'Helleston, population 666' and figured that he was at last heading into a town. He passed one other sign that he barely noticed as he went by, then slowed when he saw a pair of signs saying, 'Population Strictly Enforced' and 'Visit Us to Lose Yourself' which he assumed meant he was going to find a mountain resort to stay in for the night.

Shortly after passing the signs, Jim noted that the clouds had parted, with a quarter moon low on his left. At least now he knew he was driving south, even if he didn't know exactly where. He could obtain a local map in the morning, and be back on the road. As he drove into town, Jim noted the fact that there were no streetlights, just a few spotlights highlighting some businesses along the street.

One sign in particular caught his eye, 'Mistress Satanica, Your Pain Is Our Pleasure' with an arrow pointing to the stair leading to a lower entrance. "Looks like I might be able to make a few sales here," Jim mumbled to himself. Just then, he saw a young man in a red and white striped polo shirt waving him over.

Jim pulled the van to the side of the street, then got out to greet the gentleman who'd waved to him. Curiously, Jim saw nobody else on the street. "Good evening, sir. My name is Jim, and I'm looking for a place to spend the evening. Are there any hotels or motels in town?"

"Good evening to you. You're in luck, we still have a couple of openings in town, let me take you to the manager."

Jim followed the gent back a couple of buildings to what looked on the outside to be a legal office. It was located adjacent to the sign with the downward arrow he'd noted before stopping. Jim waited in the foyer while the guy who'd brought him in went through a door, saying he was going to get the boss.

Jim saw a number of photos on the wall, with one or two people standing alongside a dashing gentleman who was the center of each picture. One photo really impressed him, showing a red haired young lady with an impressive figure dressed in a tight fitting pink lycra spandex dress, perched on what looked like six inch heeled pink pumps. She was gorgeous.

Jim heard the door open, then saw the gentleman from the photos stepping through the door. The other guy who'd brought him in from the street came through the door, and Jim noted that it looked dark beyond the door. "By your leave, My Lord," this other guy said, then bowed and went back out onto the street.

Satan took note of the photo Jim was studying so intently. "Do you like our newest resident, Mr. Martin?"

Jim wondered how this gentleman new his name, since they had not been introduced, then said, "Yes, she is a picture of feminine perfection. If she now lives here, you've been blessed."

Satan guffawed, then replied, "I hardly think blessed is the word to use here, but yes, she is a definite plus to our little world." The lord of sin glanced down to the desk, saw the numbers there going to 664 and 2, and smiled with a demonic grin. "I understand, Mr. Martin, that you have some wicked articles in the back of your van, and that you had hoped to sell some tonight. You just might, but I need to set up a show to display them, and we'll need a model to show them off."

"It would be something else if we could get this newest resident of yours to model them for us," Jim responded.

"Our newest resident is going to model them, but her picture isn't up yet. We have to wait for daybreak so the backyard will be lit," Satan said cryptically. "I'll get Mistress Satanica and a few others to come by, and then you can show your wares."

Jim still hadn't caught on to what the Lord of Demons intended.

Jim was asked to bring examples of each item in his van into the office, just the smallest size of each sized item. It took Jim fifteen minutes to get what he needed into the office, and as he finished, Satan walked in the front door with Mistress Satanica behind him. Jim recognized her right away, even though she was wearing her domino mask, as the redhead from the photograph.

Three more women came through the door, then two men. The room should have become crowded, but there seemed to be all the room in the world for those who came for the show, and a small stage appeared where the desk had been. Spotlights came on, bathing the stage in brilliant light. Jim was now starting to wonder what he'd gotten into, and Satan was enjoying the fact that they'd left Jim free of mindnumbing influence so far.

"I see the redhead from the photo here in a fantastic outfit," Jim said. "If she is the newest resident, how is she going to model for us?"

Satan chuckled as Jim displayed his confusion. "I said our newest resident was going to model for us. The Mistress is our second-newest resident. You, Jim Martin, are our newest resident. Or should I say, Martinique James, our newest resident!"

Satan snapped his fingers, and Jim felt his body go into a state of flux. His point of reference dropped as his original 6'1" height decreased to 4'11". The short black hair on his head turned to honey blonde as he felt a tugging motion on his scalp. The hair shot out from his head, stopping when it was at his knees. Those knees were visible now that the clothes disappeared, and lost their bony look, becoming smooth and elegant.

A weight developed on his chest, and two huge, perfectly formed globes of flesh sprouted, seemingly defying gravity as they stood out with large erect nipples. At the same time that his waist was narrowing and hips widening, a pulling motion was felt in Jim's crotch. He reached down with delicate fingers to grasp at what remained of his cock, but it was of no use. With a slurping sound, it disappeared into the new, very wet slit in HER now flat crotch, becoming her new clitoris.

"Very nice, Martinique," said Satan, clapping. Next, to test the completeness of the transformation, Satan asked, "Tell me my dear, what is your full name, and why are you here?"

The last clouds in her mind faded away, and she replied, in a cute French accent, "My name is Martinique James, My Lord, and I am here to show off, to you and those around you, the latest in sex toys, fancy costumes, and dominant/submissive wear. May I begin?"

"Yes, indeed, let's get on with the show!"

Martinique first displayed her sex toys while she was still nude. Dildos both wide and narrow were inserted into her vagina and sphincter, with a vibrator being loaded with fresh batteries then turned on to shiver the dildos. After they were removed, the vibrator was used to excite her clit, and as Martinique's long fingernails squeezed her nipples with the vibrator clenched between her legs, she came to the first of her many orgasms that evening.

The aroused nipples then had clamps attached to them, with a chain connecting them. A studded black leather collar was pulled into place around her throat, then Martinique got a pair of ballet toed shoes out and put them on. Cuffs were put around her ankles, then around her wrists. Chains hooked the ankles together, then Martinique placed her cuffed wrists behind her back and secured them to each other with a press fitting.

Martinique minced her way over to stand in front of Mistress Satanica, now standing a full 8 inches taller, balancing precariously, and asked, "Would Mistress please unhook my wrists so I can show and display more of my toys?"

"I think you forgot something, Martinique," she replied, while pulling a ball gag from the bag on her ebony clad hips.

Satanica pulled the gag around Martinique's head, then tightened it so that she had her luscious red lips circling the large orange ball. Then The Mistress completed the picture by laying Martinique on her belly, massive breasts squeezing out under the pressure. Martinique's feet were then drawn up to her back, and the clamps on the wrist cuffs attached to those on the ankle cuffs. She was now a true picture of bondage perfection.

Mistress Satanica rolled Martinique until she was on her side, then bent down and spread Martinique's thighs. Satanica's tongue shot out, toying with Martinique's clit, and she backed off just as the waves from her second orgasm of the night started. Martinique moaned loudly behind her gag.

When Martinique had been freed from her bondage display, she started to display some of her exotic wear. She pulled out the size 4 French Maid costume, and started by pulling on the fishnet hose. The elastic bands at the tops kept the hose in place on her thighs. She then pulled on the black satin micromini dress, and after zipping it up, had a good bit of cleavage showing between the outer sides of the built in push up bra. The apron was tightened around her tiny waist, and the lace hat was put on her forehead. Martinique put on a pair of 6" heeled shoes with pointed toes, then donned her white gloves. She picked up a duster, then said, "May Martinique clean your house, My Lord?"

"Brava, let's see more!"

Martinique quickly doffed the maid costume, and pulled out the nurse costume. Shiny tan hose took the place of the fishnets, then the white dress was pulled on. It covered her entire chest, but clung tightly to every curve, each breast standing proudly on its own, with two huge globes of white. Martinique drew her long hair up behind her head, then pulled the nurse's cap down over it to hold it there. White heels would have looked better, but black 5" heeled pumps with a rounded baby doll toe were slipped onto her feet. Martinique was now the dream of any hospital bound voyeur, and with the proper tools, could also become his worst nightmare.

With all the white removed, Martinique then started her emulation of Mistress Satanica. She got out the black latex catsuit, and after coating her body with talcum powder, proceeded to ooze herself into it. When it was on in its entirety, she rubbed in a latex shine to bring out the suit's best. Martinique looked like she had been spray painted with gloss black paint. She pulled out a heavy leather corset, and put it on over the latex. Her already tiny waist now became sickeningly narrow.

The thigh high ballet toed boots were then zipped onto her legs, holding them rigidly straight. Martinique pulled her hair into a ponytail high on her head, then pulled on a full head covering cowl with her ponytail flowing out the top. When her gloves had been pulled on, not an inch of Martinique's flesh was visible other than her eyes and lips.

As she stood on the center of the stage and made a slight bowing motion, all that the corset and boots would allow, Martinique heard her viewers clapping. "Martinique, should Mistress Satanica ever require help in her dungeon, I'm sure you will fit the bill. Your shop advertising your wares will be located on the street above and to the side of Satanica's establishment. I'm sure we'll be putting your shop to good use in the days to come. Welcome to Helleston!"

now, on to part 3...
 
 
Part 3
 
Father Larry Hewitt was driving his ancient black Volkswagen Beetle back to Oak Ridge after visiting an ailing parishioner who lived miles away from everybody else in the backwoods hills of central Tennessee. He was at least the third priest to have owned this Beetle, and it was a credit to German automotive technology and craftsmanship that it was not only still running, but also in sound technical condition. The odometer had turned over so many times that no one knew for sure how many hundreds of thousands of miles the car had faithfully taken its owners. Maybe the Beetle knew in the heart of its systems who it was carrying. Would it dare to break down on a man of God?

Fr. Larry had been a priest for 15 years, and was looking forward to his 40th birthday party with which the parishioners had threatened him. He truly enjoyed his duty to God, finding great strength in giving all he had to make others happy and secure. The parishioner he had just tended to was feeling the results of too many years of smoking, with a lung cancer the doctors had only just diagnosed three months earlier. They were giving the older gentleman only 6 more months to live, and through prayers and hands on care giving, Fr. Larry was doing his best to make his last days as painless as possible.

The Beetle was chugging away on a secluded stretch of mountain road, bravely attacking uphill grades and thankfully coasting on the downhill slopes. As they rounded a steep curve, Fr. Larry was startled to see a young woman walking slowly along the side of the road. He couldn't stop right away, but did come to a stop only three car lengths in front of her. He rolled down his window, then stuck his head out looking back. "Can I offer you a ride, Miss?" he asked.

She took the tote bag off her shoulder and clutched it close to her chest, then jogged the short distance to what looked to her like a little black relic of the sixties. Fr. Larry saw her coming, and got out of the Bug to help her into the passenger side door. He got a good, up-close view of her as she slipped into the front seat with him holding the door.

Even priests get tempted.

As he climbed back into the driver's seat, he said, "Good afternoon, ma'am. My name is Fr. Larry Hewitt. What brings you out to the hills of Oak Ridge to hike?"

As the Volks got moving once again, she replied, "Hello, Father. My name is Candy Ashton. You're probably not going to believe this, but I got left out here by an acquaintance from work who thought I was willing to do some after hours business. When he found out I was not doing overtime, he got pissed and dropped me in the boonies. I've got no clue as to where I am, and was just walking until I got somewhere." Taking his eyes off the road for only a few seconds at a time to see her while talking, Fr. Larry told her approximately where they were and how lucky she was that somebody stumbled upon her this far from town. He kept to himself any comments about her top heavy chest, which must have been at least a hindrance to her job, if not the cause of her troubles the night before.

"Father, if we are where you say we are, I think I know a shortcut back to Oak Ridge," she offered. "There is a cutoff coming up that goes directly to the south side of town, through the hills to our right."

They motored along, the Bug's air-cooled engine thoroughly enjoying the cool mountain air, when a right turn loomed into view. "Is this the road you were referring to?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm pretty sure this is it," Candy replied.

"Pretty sure isn't very dependable in these hills, Candy. Are you confident that this is the road we can use?" Fr. Larry asked.

"It looks right, and if we don't come to an Exxon station in six miles, we'll know we went the wrong way," she said.

Figuring that a half hour lost if they had to double back wasn't all that bad, Fr. Larry made the turn. After a couple minutes, he finally broke down and asked, "Candy, what kind of overtime work were you referring to?"

"Well, Father, I was hoping you weren't going to ask that question, because I still go to church, but my job isn't exactly something the church would approve of. I'm an exotic dancer, a stripper, at one of the clubs in Oak Ridge. I enjoy the dancing, and the money it brings, but I cannot abide the customers or club employees who want to get a lay as part of the deal. I enjoy sex, probably more than you think I should, but I still think there is a proper time and place for it."

"I have no problem with your job, Candy," Fr. Larry replied. "If you are trying to control your activities, that shows that you have some willpower. Those trying to get you to have sex with them if you don't want to are the ones with the problems."

Just then, after driving only 4 miles, Fr. Larry spotted a sign on the roadside saying, 'Helleston, population 666'. As he also noticed the clouds starting to obscure the sky, he asked Candy if she knew this town was along their way. She told him that she'd never heard of it, and that maybe they had made a wrong turn. The road wasn't amenable to a U turn, so the Beetle kept right on going. Another sign said, 'Helleston - Our Little Hell on Earth' and this was followed by a pair of signs saying, 'Population Strictly Enforced' and 'Visit Us to Lose Yourself' which got both of them wondering quite literally where the hell they were going.

Candy took note of the 666 in the population figure, remarking about how that was supposed to be a sign of the Devil. Fr. Larry was pleasantly surprised to find that she knew that, and worried himself about the 'Our Little Hell on Earth' bit.

Still watching for a place to turn around, the pair found themselves coming back into sunlit skies, and the outskirts of the town of Helleston. They started scanning the shops along the street, and Candy yelled out for Fr. Larry to look to the right. What he saw made his jaw drop. A shop with a huge front window displaying all manner of sexy clothes, shoes and sex toys and the name "Martinique's" was right next to a sign with an arrow pointing down saying "Mistress Satanica, Your Pain Is Our Pleasure."

"What kind of town is this?" he asked, more to himself than to Candy.

She replied, "It looks like the signs outside town were pretty accurate. This is a hellish looking place!" At that moment, the ancient Beetle gave up the ghost and sputtered to a stop.

They both got out of the car to look at the engine, but were met right away by a woman wearing a "Hell-o, Welcome to Helleston" pin. She walked up to Candy first, then to Fr. Larry, and asked them to follow her to the welcome center. Candy grabbed her bag out of the car, then caught up with the two already walking toward an office building right next to the two signs they'd noted from the car.

As the front door closed behind them, the Volkswagen parked one block up the street disappeared from view. At the same moment, the sign on the desk inside changed to read 666. The town of Helleston had claimed it's last two occupants to fill it for the present time.

The welcome lady went through a doorway, saying she was going to get the mayor to greet them. Candy set her bag on the floor next to Fr. Larry's left foot, then went to the wall to check out all the pictures hanging there. She saw that all of them had a regal looking man in the center of the photo, with one or two people alongside him. Two pictures near the top caught her attention. "Father, look at this picture here, see the redhead next to this guy in all the pictures?"

Fr. Larry took a close look, and saw how pretty she looked.

"This looks a lot like a girl I went to high school with down in Louisville. She was the one who had all the guys chasing after her and the girls wishing she'd fade away. If that is her, I wonder what her connection is to this place?"

Fr. Larry heard this, but had his attention drifting to the photo next to it, with a petite, unbelievably well built woman with blonde hair going halfway down her legs. She was dressed in a French Maid costume.

Candy continued looking at who she thought was an old classmate, but Fr. Larry stepped back and looked toward the door when he heard it opening. The welcome lady came out first, and went straight out the door to the street. Following her was the man in all the photos on the wall. A chill went down Fr. Larry's spine when he saw him. Satan narrowed an eye while looking at the priest, then said, "Hell-o, Miss Ashton, Father Hewitt. I'm so glad you both could join us here in Helleston. I'll be glad to take you to meet the residents you seem so interested in who are in our two most recent resident photos, but first, we have to bring you both into resident status yourselves."

Fr. Larry used his last bit of willpower to say, "What kind of place are you running here? There seems to be no sense of dignity at all, it just reeks with evil!"

Satan stared him in the eye, and said, "Did you not see the signs posted leading into town? This is my little Hell on Earth. I have no need whatsoever for a priest here. I should just kill you here and now, but the population board has already accepted you as a resident. Well, if you've got all that out of your system now, I'll see about making you a useful member of our community." Satan thought for a moment, then clapped his hands with glee.

"Earlier, you said you had no problem with Miss Ashton's profession. In that case, we are in need of entertainers here in Helleston. Take your bag, Father, and go change into your new work clothes. Your first show will be tonight at 9. I'll have a special outfit for you to use then."

Fr. Larry looked down at his feet, and saw 'his' bag. He picked it up, then headed for the room the Devil had opened up for him. It was a dressing room, with a huge mirror, an infinite supply of cosmetics, and closets which were empty so far. All willpower had been drained from his body, and as he entered the room, he developed a tremendous urge to make it his own. The door closed behind him.

The Devil turned back toward Candy. "The new Candy is being born in that room, so I guess we'll have to come up with a new name and occupation for you, won't we? Let me see, you were wandering in the mountains because you didn't want to have sex with one of your employers. You've been a stripper, but not a sex partner. What a shame for all those trying to bring you pleasure.

"Well, now your name will be Sugar, and you cannot live without constant sexual activity. You will walk the streets of Helleston, but will give away your body to anyone willing to use you. You will be taken care of, so you won't have to worry about being paid for sex. You are the ultimate slut, and are expected to look that way at all times.

"Your old friend from school, yes, you're right, that is her, will be looking forward to punishing you for not being active enough in giving away your body. Now, slut, go next door to Martinique's and get yourself outfitted for your new job."

Fr. Larry watched his reflection in awe as it changed relative to what he took out of the bag. Luckily, he'd had enough sense to remove his clothes before starting, or maybe it was Candy telling him what to do. The first item out of the bag was a size 46HHHH bra, and as it came out of the bag, breasts to fill it came out of his chest. He hooked the bra behind his back as if he'd been doing it for years, then pulled out a G-string.

His 40-year old skin became smooth and silky like a 25-year old's, and his penis sucked up into the slit now forming in his crotch. No, make that her crotch. At the same time, her hips were flaring out and waist shrinking. Shiny flesh colored tights were the next thing out of the bag, and after these were slipped on, Candy's legs became the beautifully proportioned gams ogled by viewers. Her feet became tiny enough to slip into the size 6 pumps with 5" heels.

As she started to apply makeup, Candy's face became the thing of beauty which attracted men near and far. Makeup was hardly necessary; she looked like a goddess. At the same time, Candy's hair turned ash blonde and cascaded down her back to stop at her waist.

As she stepped out of the dressing room, Candy was inspected by her Lord and Master. Not even trying, Candy was posing in an alluring manner, showing off her body. "Very nice, Candy. You are very well equipped for your new career. I can't wait until your first show tonight!"

Sugar had been busy next door at Martinique's. She had been given one of the new body hugging lycra spandex minidresses which looked like it had been painted onto her upper body and came to just below her crotch. It was black, to match her new black ballet toed boots, which resculpted her already beautiful calves into things of perfection. Martinique had equipped her with a complete makeup set, and her face was dolled up to say, 'take me, I'm yours.' Sugar got two offers to have sex just in going back to the office, but wanted to make sure she had her master's approval first.

Sugar was standing on her tippy toes in her new boots outside the theater as she watched those entering to view the debut show of Candy, the Stripper from Hell. She had gotten laid five times in the last six hours, but was hoping desperately for more action. She would feel Mistress Satanica's whip if she didn't give away her body to enough men before the night was over, and she was not looking forward to being tamed by the bitch she and others had scorned all those years ago.

When the curtain rose, loud whistles and clapping was heard. Candy was leaning against a thin steel pole, dressed in a nun's habit. No nun ever had Candy's assets filling out a habit though, and as she started to slowly and sexily remove each piece of the religious costume, the last tiny bit of Fr. Larry's conscience cried out and died. Candy was now a full fledged exotic entertainer in Hell. Helleston's four newest residents had now completely adopted their new lives. Each had entered Helleston, and each had become an entirely different person. Each one also loved every bit of what they'd become, and frowns were seen beyond the pearly gates...
 
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Copyright 1999 by Steve Zink. All rights reserved.