Becoming a Whore 01

This story is cuckold, loving wife (married extra-marital fun: swinging, sharing & more) story. It's with my usual characters, but in an alternative timeline. Each series will stand on its own. It is (sadly) entirely fictional.

Hope you enjoy it, please do reach out should you have feedback or suggestions.

Becoming a Whore 01

"Hello, is that Mr Hammer?"

"What?" I looked at the clock since it's a little after 2am and my brain is kinda still fast asleep.

"Are you Mr Hammer?" the voice took on a more irritated tone.

A phone call at 2am, my fraud alert senses are powering up and I'm ready to hang up. I looked on the other side of the bed to find it empty. 'Hasn't she come back yet?' I asked myself. I cleared my throat and shuffled onto my elbow in bed, still on fraud alert "It may be, why?"

"Mr Hammer, my name is Sargent Josh Smith, are you able to come and collect your wife from Carlton Police Station?"

That woke me right up. "Police Station, why what's happened? Is Emily..." he cut me off

"Mr Hammer, your wife is fine, we just need you to come and pick her up as soon as you can please." he paused waiting for me to answer, I had questions, but he wanted to move on "Is that ok? Are you coming to pick your wife up Mr Hammer or?"

"Yes, yes, of course. I'll be there as quickly as I can. Is she ok?"

"You can find that out for yourself...." irritated, he blurted out. Understanding his mistake, he then told me, "She's fine. Come to the Carlton Police Station. Do you know where that is?"

"Yes, I need to get dressed and it'll take me.." I started working out the best route and how long it would take at this time of the morning.

"There's no hurry, she's fine, see you soon." he's hung up.

It was now 2.07am on Friday night, now a Saturday morning. My wife had been out with her friend Michelle on a very rare evening out and I was being called to pick her up from a local cop shop. I've never had so much of a speeding ticket, or ever spoken to a law official before in my life.

As I got dressed my mind was racing as to what I was diving into.

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Upon entering the police station I quickly identified myself, was shown to a room and a few minutes later a police woman appeared and sat at the other side of the table. She popped a tablet down on the table in front of her, checking some details before looking up at me.

"Mr Hammer, I'm Claudia. Firstly, your wife is fine, I expect you'll be able to leave her within an hour tops." She smiled at me, trying to reassure me that things were under control.

Agitated, I asked her, "What's happened, I mean, why am I, I mean why are we here?"

She looked at me, took a breath "Your wife's been arrested for prostitution.".

I almost burst out laughing "Hah, what the.." then I realised she was watching me intently, taking in my reaction. "That can't be." I paused and looked at her, wiping the smug off my face. "Where, how?" were my next questions. "Where's Michelle?" being my last.

She looked down at her tablet, and scrolled "There is no Michelle." looking back up at me "Why should there be a Michelle?"

"Michelle and Emily went out tonight." I very quickly added "For a girls night out, drinks and dancing."

She picked the tablet up and leaned back in her chair "So not to get paid for sex?"

"God no." my heart was racing hard. What the hell was she talking about?

"So your wife and her friend aren't local whores?" she almost spat that whore word out, clearly showing that she had great dislike for that type of person.

"No, for crying out loud, no!" this time, I tried to reassure her.

"Some of the officers here say they recognise your wife as a known prostitute." She waited for a reaction and got none."She was seen talking with Casba, a known manager."

"Manager?"

"Casba is a pimp. He manages, looks out for his" she paused, "property. Like your wife." again watching me intently.

"My wife is no one's property." this time, I drove my bargain hard, but she didn't seem convinced. This time, I yelled out, "Ok clearly, there's been some mix up here. Trust me my wife is not some prostitute and I very much doubt she knows what a pimp means!" I sigh "She's the flipping opposite of a bloody prostitute if you must know." and I slump in my chair defeated. "I'm not sure what proof you have or need but I really doubt all of this."

"Sir, you better calm down there. No need to get agitated..." She tried cooling me down a notch. "There are areas of the city where prostitutes hang out. We discourage that by arresting them regularly. Tonight your wife was picked up by one of our own."

I stared at her in disbelief, trying to figure out whether this was some sort of a practical joke or something. Understanding my confusion, she leaned forward and told me "We have 5 women in the cells, one of them is your wife. They were all picked up together on the same street."

To add further, she said "Look, she was dressed appropriately and fit right in." she smirked at me "even has a purse, full of condoms."

Now I've caught her in a lie. We've never bought condoms, not for over 20 years, so there's no way she had condoms on her. "You have clearly mistaken. Not a chance she had condoms on her. We don't use them, all right? There has been some sort of a mixup here."

Now, she did something on the screen and turned the tablet to face me. Showing me an open purse with stuff in it, there were clearly a few condoms. However, that wasn't her purse, it was Michelle's. "That's not her purse." I declared triumphantly.

"Of course not, she's just carrying around someone else's purse?" She raised an eyebrow at me.

"I guess so" I was properly awake now and not about to walk into some trap or drop Michelle into it. Well at least not yet if I could help it. She twisted the tablet and swiped the screen twice, before turning it back to me.

Now this shocked me and I leaned forward. On the screen was Emily. It was a split screen with her standing in front of those height wall things. Left was her front on, right was her side profile. Both with her arms at her side and her legs tightly together. I almost expected her to be holding one of those perp card, clapper board things that you see on the tv cop shows. But her details were instead stamped on the bottom of the screen. Her name, DOB, timestamp etc. But what shocked me was Emily looked so different, not the Emily I knew.

I took it all in, my eyes darting from left to right. In front of me was my wifes face and body, but it was being showcased. Almost displayed like I'd never seen her before. These were not the clothes she went out in. She didn't own these clothes. She didn't own anything like it.

When she left last night, she was wearing a black blazer over favourite white blouse. It was a rare find that fit her boobs and didn't look like a tent on her as it was tapered in at the waist nicely. She'd also worn some nice black trousers and some simple 1" heeled sandals. She looked sexy, sophisticated, and smart. However, in these pictures she looked like a complete whore. God she looked like a smoking hot one.

On her feet she had some black, shiny heels. I think people call them pumps. They had to be at least 3 inches tall, I'm surprised that she could walk in them, let alone stand as she was. Her legs looked amazing, you could see the tightness of her muscles, the pull on her calves, the thickness of her thighs and you could see a lot of it, as she had a mini skirt on. Now Emily never wears skirts at all, and the only ones she owns are knee-length. So this was positively scandalous on her. Again switching between pictures you could see how tight it was over her wide hips and big ass. The white material was stretched enough that it looked like it was going to rip apart and show everything off. It was probably a good 5 inches or more up from her knees. Maybe providing her an inch of safety, hiding her pussy and ass cheeks. God she looked amazing, clearly in the wrong way!

But what really got my attention was her top, her chest, her tits. Emily has huge tits and they are 100% natural, really heavy, a full set that needs a well-engineered bra to support. In this picture however, her 36HH boobs were clearly not in a bra. They hung low on her chest, as I know they do, down below her elbows. They looked so full and inviting. The union jack t-shirt that she was wearing was pulled so tightly across them that you could make out the start of her areola near the bottom.

The strangest thing was her cute little face. I couldn't make out her facial expression and she didn't look pissed off or nervous. If anything she looked defiant, maybe even her eyes were slightly glazed over. This was not my Emily. Was she drugged? I couldn't really tell from this picture, but her stance didn't say 'don't look at me'. In fact it said the opposite. It said 'Do you like what you see, do you want some of this?' Her shoulders were back, her chest was proud and she was insolently displaying herself. And she was showing herself like this to a cop, to the camera. She wasn't my wife, my Emily, whom I had married 20 years ago!

"Is this really the outfit that someone going out for a normal girls night out wears?" The officer tries and snaps me out of my daze.

My lust filled me with a daze. My wife, right there in front of me, displayed like a wanton whore. I don't answer, I just stare, I know I have a raging hardon now, but I don't care.

Then with a raised voice, she interjected, "Mr Hammer, your wife went out dressed like this..." she sighed and added, "to have sex for money. To be a prostitute!" and she pulled the screen away.

The last words stung like a motherfucking bee, and I had to get a hold of myself. "No she didn't." I quickly added "She doesn't own clothes like that. You can come back to our home and check her wardrobe. We're not that type of person." though I still had those images burned into my skull.

"So you're saying that she changed at some point in the night, picked up someone else's purse, hung around with other whores and was caught talking to a known pimp?"

It sounds ridiculous, as it was, but I had no defence. "How would I know?" I slumped back in my chair "I guess so, jezzz." I sighed. "But this isn't Emily, she doesn't ..." I gestured to her tablet. "She doesn't even dress up." I mumbled under my breath, suddenly not turned on again.

She smiles at me, sits upright, putting the tablet to one side. "Good I didn't think that she was one of them. I had to push a little to see. But I can see." she almost grinned at me as she stood. "I'll go get her and you can be on your way."

Oh and that was it? Just like that? She was gone and I was on my own again. Lost in confusion, I had a million questions hitting me hard.

What the hell had just happened?

Why did she change clothes?

Why on earth did she put 'those' clothes on?

Where were her own clothes?

Where was Michelle?

Why was she caught up with prostitutes?

And who the fuck was this Casba?

I sat back and closed my eyes, my mind being brought back to that outfit. I could see my wife standing on a street dressed like that. Fitting in with the surrounding and her colleagues. My wife a whore. My wife was being paid to suck strangers' cocks. My wife being fucked by wanton men, my Emily being a prostitute. All these 100% new, fresh ideas were making my brain and cock want to explode. I'd never even once considered anything like this and yet suddenly it was here. And it wasn't even just an idea, it, whatever it was, was starting to happen.

Had she actually done anything of that sort? Of course not. There wasn't any doubt in my mind that she's done nothing remotely sexual with anyone. However, those pictures beg to differ, as if she just looked like it was ready to do it.

Lost in my thoughts, I heard the door open, and I looked up. In walked the police woman, I forgot her name and behind her walked Emily. Well it was more like a strut than a walk. Her heels clicking with each tentative step. The door was closed behind her, leaving the three of us in the room. Emily's hands were behind her back, I guess cuffed. This caused her boobs to stand out even more. My god she looked... and we made eye contact.

Right there, was my wife. I could see that she was mortified, the look I had expected from her. Her cheeks were flushed and she looked like she was about to cry. If she could I expect she would have held her arms across her chest to try to hide. She didn't look happy, looked like she wanted to hide in a dark corner of the room.

Her skirt had ridden up a little, I guess the walking and cuffed hands made it impossible to fix. Everything about her just called out S-E-X! I stood up to go to her to hug her, hide her from the dystopian reality I never thought we would find ourselves in.

"Sit back down, Mr Hammer. Please..." the police woman instructed me. I took the step back and sat, suddenly remembering that she was present.

Turning to look at her, wondering what was next. She had a grin on her face.

"Mr Hammer, is this your wife Emily Hammer?" she asked me.

"Yes" I replied as she then pressed some buttons on the tablet and nodded at it.

"And Mr Hammer, your wife is not a prostitute. Yes?" a smirk on her lips.

I knew what she was doing here, trying to humiliate me, Emily, the both of us. It was working.

"Correct, she is not a prostitute." I answered as clearly as a man could at this stage.

She did something on the tablet, turning to Emily. "And Mrs Hammer, can you please confirm your statement, again?" they locked eyes. "Just the headline. We have it all documented here, of course."

My wife is a proud person, one of strong moral grounds, she does not swear. She bowed her head and very timidly answered "I am not a whore. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"And Why are you dressed like a prostitute then?" the officer taunted her.

Emily raised her head quickly causing her boobs to ripple and sway "I was drugged." she pleaded.

"So you said, but you do not want a blood test?"

Emily didn't reply but she maintained her eye contact.

"With a blood test we could start to take action."

Emily stood there silently as I watched a tear roll down her face. I wanted to get up and save her. The police officer decided that was enough. "Mr and Mrs Hammer please remain in this room for a moment while I complete some paperwork" and she indicated to the tablet. "You'll be free to go shortly." she stood to leave the room, walking towards the door.

Emily turned a little to her and indicated her hands behind her back "Please?"

"I can't release those until this is done, it will only be a few minutes." and she stepped out of the room. The door clicking locked behind her.

Emily and I looked at each other. I stood and walked to her. I quickly hugged her, wiping away the tears running down her plump cheeks.

"Pull my skirt down." she quickly snapped at me. That should have taken me by surprise but I know when she's put into a corner or made to do something she doesn't want to she gets aggressive and snappy. I also expected her to feel my hard cock pressing against her.

I leaned back a little and pulled the hem of her skirt down as much as I could. The material almost wanted to spring back up as soon as I let go. It felt so soft and tight and her thighs felt and looked amazing.

She reads my mind and snaps at me "For fucks sake Chris, no."

I step back and don't know what to say, I certainly don't want an argument here. I look at her face, I so want to look down and take in her massive chest that I know is there screaming 'look at me'. I hold my eyes up. "Fucking Michelle" she mumbles and closed her eyes.

I instantly look at her boobs, I quickly look back up but her eyes are closed still. So I take a better look at her amazing body and its display.

For years I've been telling her that she's a goddess. That her tits are perfect. She moans about the pain on her back, the welts on her shoulders from the bras, the fact that she would fail a pencil-case test let alone a pencil test. For years I've been asking her to dress more her age, enjoy life a little more, to try and look sexy, to let other people see her as I do in the bedroom from time to time. She always tells me to fuck off, she never tries, not even remotely.

I love her huge heavy boobs, I love her wide child bearing hips, her long slender legs, her tiny belly, her lovely ass, her beautiful face. She may be in her early 40s but she looks like she's in her late 20s. Everyone I know double takes her when a tighter top, a millilitre of cleavage or a leg appears.

Right now she is my dream woman and I don't care how sexist that is. I know her body and mind as well as my own but right now, she is displaying her body more than I could have ever dreamed.

"Please Chris stop looking at me like that." I look up at her, I've been busted. I don't care, I'll probably never see her like this, ever again. There's no doubt that there's going to be fallout from this. Fallout that I can't even imagine. I take a step back and almost fall back into my chair. I blatantly look her body up and down.

"Stop it" she moans at me but at the same time something happens that blows my mind. She's standing there with her hands behind her back, still handcuffed, her tits in my eye line and my focus, of course. They suddenly bounce and sway as out of the blue she moves her left heeled foot a good 2 feet away from its previous place next to the right one. This movement causes her unencumbered pendulous tits to come alive and her skirt to pull tighter and ride higher.

I cannot believe it.

I do not know where to look.

But of course, my eyes are drawn to her pussy. Because, as I expected, it's now there for me to see. Well her thong is now visible. It's a tiny white, transparent one that I know well. She has a matching bra, or maybe I should say, had one as I have no clue where that's gone now. So I can now see under her white mini skirt, the thong that she had put on earlier in the evening to go out with Michelle.

I gasp out loud and my mouth falls open.

She tuts and closes her legs again tightly. I look up at her face and see another tear roll down her cheek. She shakes her head. I don't know why she opened her legs for those few seconds but I know I'll never forget it.

"I'm so sorry Chris" I stand again and step towards her, pulling her skirt down. Again savouring the feeling of doing it. I wipe away her tears and hug her tightly. I don't care that she knows I'm turned on by this. I really don't care at this point.

"It's ok love." I don't know what else to say, and I hug her tighter, enjoying the feeling of her low boobs and how much they squish into me.

The door unlocks and opens, this time staying open as the same police woman steps in. I step back a little but stay by Emily's side.

"All done, you're ok to go." and she swiftly undoes the cuffs.

Emily instantly brings her arms crossed in front of her chest, scooping, securing and hiding her boobs as best she can. She quickly asks both of us "Can I have a coat or something?" looking around the empty room.

The police woman raises her eyebrow and chuckles, "From where?" I guess she has a point.

"Chris, why didn't you bring a coat for me?" Emily snaps at me even though she knows it's a stupid question.

I shrug my shoulders and even though I know I shouldn't bite, it just pops out of me "It's 3am, in a police station and you've been picked up for prostitution. It's not like I've been prepared for this." I tried to defend myself now.

The police woman sniggers audibly, Emily glares at the police woman "My purse?" she then instantly corrects herself "My friend's purse?"

"She can come get herself later." was not the answer Emily wanted. Almost fuming now she drops her hands, shoulders shoot back, she glares at me, pivots on a heel and struts out the door. I quickly follow behind her as she parades herself to everyone that cares to look with the most sexual walk I can imagine through the small police station to the car. Her heels calling out,