The Hairasite’s Criminal Dominion

In the frenetic heat of La Bella Vita’s kitchen, Lisa Caldwell, a 22-year-old prep cook, tossed salads with a venomous sneer. Her radiant blonde hair cascaded to her waist in bold waves, framing sharp gray eyes and fair, flawless skin. A month ago, the hairasite, a mysterious parasite, invaded her scalp, amplifying her self-absorption and bitchiness. Her slender frame strutted in a sequined silver mini-dress and high heels, a nightclub queen in a greasy kitchen. “This shithole’s beneath me,” she hissed, flipping her hair, letting golden strands fall into multiple Caesar salads, including one for table 12. “Let them choke on my fucking brilliance,” she muttered, her voice dripping with chaos, the hairasite urging destruction. She ripped off her apron, stormed into her boss’s office, and slammed the door. Hiking up her dress, she yanked down his pants, straddling him, her pussy grinding his cock, fucking him raw. “Oh, by the way, I quit,” she sneered mid-thrust. “Find another slave.” She climaxed, dismounted, and strode out, heels clicking, leaving chaos in her wake.


At table 12, Felix and Susan McKinnon, a district attorney and a police officer, celebrated their twelfth anniversary, candlelight casting a warm glow. Felix, 38, with sharp hazel eyes, short brown hair, and a lean build, radiated earnest brilliance. Susan, 35, with long auburn hair in a tight bun, green eyes gleaming with quiet strength, and an athletic frame, hid a secret fetish, scrawled in her diary, which Felix had read covertly: a craving for a criminal to dominate her in her patrol car, fucking her raw, her badge powerless. She kept it from Felix, fearing it would disrupt their harmony.


“Our life’s perfect,” Felix said, fingers brushing hers. “But don’t you want something… reckless?”


Susan sipped her Merlot. “Maybe a spark,” she replied, veiling her desire to be broken. They laughed about a wild Ibiza trip when Paolo, a waiter, took their orders: grilled salmon for Felix, chicken parmesan for Susan.


Paolo returned with their starters—minestrone for Susan, a Caesar salad for Felix. Felix speared a bite of romaine, chuckling, when he choked. A long, blonde hair clung to his fork, half-swallowed. He pulled another, then a third, their vibrant hue unnatural. His calm shattered. “What the fuck is this?” he growled.


Susan reached out. “Felix, relax,” she said softly, her hand hovering. “Felix, relax.” But his hazel eyes blazed with a vicious edge, making her pull back.


“Susan, shut the fuck up for a second,” he snarled, his voice raw. He froze, nervous and embarrassed by the outburst, but Susan’s cheeks flushed crimson, her green eyes glinting with lust, her fetish stirred by his cruel tone. The hairasite was twisting his soul.


Dinner ended in tense silence. At home, in the dark, Felix’s aggression surged. He pinned Susan against the wall, ripping her dress, his cock slamming into her dripping cunt. “Take it, you bitch,” he growled, bruising her wrists. Susan moaned, “Yes, fuck me,” her pussy clenching, loving his dominance, blind to his slightly longer hair or smoother skin.


The next morning, Felix woke to a scalp tingle, Susan gone for her 5 a.m. patrol shift. In the mirror, his brown hair was longer, brushing his ears, with blonde streaks like gold veins. “What the hell’s this?” he muttered, touching his softening skin, his face younger, like a 35-year-old. His hazel eyes gleamed with self-absorption. “I look… fucking perfect,” he smirked, his innocent DA mind warping. At the courthouse, he hid his hair under a cap, his suits looser. Colleagues noticed his sharper eyes, but he deflected, his mind racing. “I’m better than them all,” he thought, studying case files on mob bosses, not to prosecute but to learn. Nights on the dark web, he devoured criminal forums, his DA knowledge merging with a hunger to exploit the system. “Why uphold the law when I can own it?” he mused, innocence fading.


By week two, his hair reached his jaw, fully blonde, his cock seven inches, pulsing with power. “I’m an Adonis,” he grinned, unaware of the hairasite’s plan. He fucked Susan nightly in the dark, his thicker cock driving her wild. “You’re my whore,” he snarled, her moans of “Harder, bastard” blind to his changes. Susan’s early shifts kept her clueless, Felix sleeping late. His mind darkened, sketching a jewelry heist, exploiting legal loopholes. “I’ll run this city,” he whispered.


By week three, Felix’s cock grew to nine inches, a throbbing beast. He seduced Lena Carter, a 28-year-old paralegal with long dark curls, brown almond-shaped eyes, and a curvy build, in a DA’s office back room. Lena had a boyfriend, Tom, but Felix worked her slowly over weeks, leaning close during case reviews, his blonde hair tied back, his nine-inch cock bulging. One night, he locked the door, pushing her to her knees. “Suck it,” he commanded, his cock springing free. Lena gagged, her brown eyes glassy, pussy dripping, worshipping his massive cock. “Fuck, you’re a god,” she moaned, her loyalty shifting. “Feed me case files, Lena,” Felix said, fucking her mouth, his thrusts controlling. Lena nodded, agreeing to betray her office, her seduction a slow burn.


Felix’s self-absorption deepened. “I’m untouchable,” he thought, studying criminal psychology, his mind a sponge for mastermind tactics. “I’m smarter than any thief,” he vowed. By week four, his cock reached 12 inches, but no breasts yet. He fucked Susan in the dark, her pussy clenching, her screams of “Own me” feeding his ego. “You’re my fucking bitch,” he snarled, relentless. Susan, blind to his blonde hair, left early, missing his changes.


By week five, Felix’s blonde hair hit his shoulders, his face a youthful 25, his chest aching. Small swells formed, blossoming into voluptuous double-D breasts by week six, his 12-inch cock still pulsing. “I’m not an Adonis,” he realized, voice softer, feminine. “I’m Felicia McKinnon, and I’ll rule this city.” His fair skin glowed, hazel eyes blazed with genius, his female identity solidifying. At home, he taped his breasts, hiding them during dark, aggressive sex with Susan. “Take it, whore,” he growled, Susan moaning, “Yes, fuck me,” blind to his curves. Susan’s early shifts kept his transformation hidden.


Felicia began her crimes, wearing a skin-tight black catsuit that showcased her untaped, voluptuous breasts and massive cock, blonde hair tied back, identity ambiguous. Her first heist, at Diamond Vault, stole $3 million in gems at midnight, alarms disabled with DA precision. “They’re insects, I’m a goddess,” she smirked, her catsuit clinging to her curves. Security footage baffled police—breasts and cock blurred gender, prompting an APB: “Unidentified suspect, possibly female, with male anatomy, in black outfit.” Susan, on patrol, heard the call, her pussy throbbing at the thought, her fantasy stirring.


Felicia planned heists with obsessive detail—bank blueprints memorized, police schedules hacked via Lena, informants bribed. She corrupted Robert, a businessman, in a locked office, her 12-inch cock fucking his ass raw. “Smuggle my gems, or I’ll ruin you,” she growled, her breasts pressed against him. He agreed after weeks of coercion. Anna, a lawyer, knelt for Felicia, her pussy soaked, worshipping her cock. “Launder my money,” Felicia commanded, fucking her hard. Anna nodded, enthralled, her loyalty bought over weeks. Lena’s manipulation deepened, Felicia fucking her nightly, whispering, “Hack deeper, Lena.” Lena, her brown eyes glassy, obeyed, hacking police systems, her loyalty absolute.


Knowing Susan’s fetish and her new night shift in the downtown district, Felicia orchestrated her fifth heist, a bank job, to get caught. Susan responded to a silent alarm, spotting the figure in the black catsuit, voluptuous breasts and massive cock unmistakable, blonde hair framing her face. “Freeze!” Susan shouted, her green eyes flashing with lust, her body tingling. Overwhelmed, she forgot to cuff Felicia, her hands trembling. In the patrol car, Felicia unzipped her catsuit, stroking her 12-inch cock, its length glistening. “Ever been fucked in a police car, officer? Does your husband fuck you like this?” she taunted, her hazel eyes hypnotic.


Susan’s breath hitched, her pussy soaking her uniform. “No,” she whispered, her fantasy screaming. She pulled over in a dark alley, heart pounding. Felicia leaned forward. “Let me out, and I’ll make it your fantasy,” she said. Susan opened the back door, her auburn hair loosening, green eyes wild. Felicia ripped Susan’s trousers, her cock slamming into her dripping cunt. “I was Felix, now I’m Felicia, your wife,” Felicia growled, her thrusts relentless. “And you, Susie, are my whore. Fuck me.” Susan moaned, “Yes, criminal, own me,” her orgasm shattering her, badge forgotten. Felicia fucked her raw, Susie’s screams echoing. “You’re mine,” Felicia declared, renaming her. Susie nodded, auburn hair tangled, green eyes submissive, her police career crumbling.


Susie quit active duty, switching to daylight desk work, rigging evidence for Felicia’s heists. “I’ll keep the cops blind,” she vowed, her fetish fulfilled.


By week eight, Felicia woke fully female, her 12-inch cock receding into a slick, perfect pussy, her body a 22-year-old masterpiece—voluptuous curves, blonde hair to her hips, hazel eyes blazing. She quit the DA’s office, striding out in a black leather skirt and blouse, her beauty a weapon. “The law’s my playground,” she told Lena, fucking her with a strap-on in a warehouse lair, Lena’s moans of “Yes, goddess” sealing her role as hacker. Robert and Anna, fucked into submission, smuggled and laundered, their lives Felicia’s.


Felicia’s empire thrived in a warehouse lair, black walls, neon lights, stolen goods. She recruited mobsters Tara Ellis, a gunrunner and assassin, and James Reed, muscle and getaway driver. Felicia seduced them, fucking Tara with a strap-on, her pussy clenching, and riding James’s cock, her dominance absolute. “Run my guns, Tara. Drive my escapes, James, or I’ll destroy you,” she warned, her hazel eyes cold. Their loyalty was bought with pleasure and fear, cemented over weeks.


Felicia fucked her crew nightly, her strap-on or pussy dominating them. Susie, in a latex bodysuit, knelt, auburn hair tangled, green eyes worshipful. “You’re nothing,” Felicia sneered, whipping her thighs, fucking her raw. Susie moaned, “Yes, mistress,” her submission complete. Lena, Marcus, Tara, and James served her, fucked into loyalty.


Lisa’s hairs had birthed a criminal goddess. Susie, once Susan McKinnon, knelt in latex, watching Felicia fuck a recruit, her police pride gone. Late at night, she wondered: Had those hairs touched others, spawning more criminals or slaves? The shadow lingered, a web of untold fates.




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