Career Opportunities, Part Five free porn video

Career Opportunities, Part Five By Valerie Hope Time passes - whether it is good time or bad time is purely up to the one who owns it. And for Courtney Taylor, Haylee Gregory, Josie Hargreaves, Stephanie Randolph and Holly Wainwright, it was good times indeed. Their days were filled with parties, sexy clothes, cigarettes, cocktails and lap dances, their nights filled with wild parties, expensive dinners and blowjobs. They were medically engineered in every luscious facet and curve of their bodies, their minds restructured by groundbreaking psychoconditioning methods to turn them into the perfect little airhead bimbo strippers. It had worked perfectly, and the girls couldn't be happier. Josie, always the quickest to adapt to their feminine requirements during their captivity, even had a steady boyfriend now. It had been a little bit of a shock for Holly and Courtney, her housemates, to see Kevin Montgomery - the day manager for "Dream Angels", the first person they met at the club when they came to work - in a bathrobe at their breakfast table, eating Honeycombs and reading the sports section while Josie gazed at him longingly with a rapt, "I-just-got-laid" look on her angelic face. Not that the girls hadn't progressed beyond the blowjobs they were required to give nightly just to survive and given their new, untested pussies a try. Josie had been the first to lose her virginity with Kevin, and Courtney and Holly followed two nights later in the back of a minivan with two suburban 'bad boys' they'd met at a nightclub. Stephanie had simply not come home the next night and came back thoroughly convinced that 'doggie-style' was the best invention since fire. Haylee, the brash big-haired brunette with the nasal New York accent, didn't want to be left out, so in her own unique style, she grabbed her purse and keys, got in her car, drove to a local pool hall and selected one lucky man. The seduction took all of about twenty seconds - Haylee walked up to a likely candidate and said, "I ain't been fucked in months. You're pretty cute, you wanna get a motel room and do me?" The man didn't need to be asked twice. Looking at Josie and Kevin together, or Holly and her new on-again-off-again beau Eric who she'd met at one of the girl's all-night house parties made Courtney a little wistful, gave her fond little daydreams of finding a nice handsome man and 'going steady.' But she couldn't, not yet. She still had things to do. Hallowe'en came and went and another wake-the-neighbors party at the girls' duplex 'Haunted House' and November began to creep along as well before Courtney got the call on her cute little blue-and-yellow Kyocera phone which merrily rang the tune to 'Ride of the Valkyries' from her purse. Not many knew the number to that phone, so it was with no small measure of excitement that she answered. "You know who this is?" a female voice asked. "Yeah, baby," Courtney said. "Is everything ready?" "I think so," the woman said. "They should be in your hands by close of business." "You rock, Quinnie," Courtney bubbled, bouncing a little in the lap of the man she was sitting with and giving him a close-up look at the jiggling expanse of her bare, 36 DD breasts. "We'll be ready. Do you have the stuff I asked you for?" "I'm in the car now. I'll bring it to you. I'm only about fifteen minutes away from you." "You nervous, sweetheart?" Courtney asked. "Scared shitless," the woman replied. "Don't be, honey," Courtney reassured her. "Everything's going to be fine. All you had to do was get them here. Once they're here, we girls will do all the rest. And, like, we're very good at what we do." "Good. I feel better," the woman said. "I'm glad," the buxom platinum blonde said. "So, like, drop off the stuff and then wait for us outside the club about, I dunno, like, eight o'clock maybe? That'll give us a few hours to work 'em." "Eight o'clock. I'll bring the van." "You're the best, baby girl," Courtney cooed. "This is gonna be fun." "Yeah, baby," the woman replied in her best imitation of Courtney's bubblehead cheerleader soprano. "I'll see you in ten minutes." Courtney hung up the phone and turned to the man she was sitting with, being sure to rub an excitement-hardened nipple across his bottom lip 'by accident'. She could feel the effect she was having on him through his khakis and it gave her a naughty thrill. "So, like, one of my girlfriends is coming by in ten minutes to drop off something, and I'll probably buy her lunch. So you have ten minutes with me, and that's two dances. You got the money, honey?" The man only nodded dumbly, no smooth rejoinder readily available in the face of this statuesque centerfold beauty. She bounced happily again, kissing his cheek. "Cool." The next song started and she slid out of her Lycra tube- dress, starting the lap dance. As stoked as she was about the phone call and also the fact that the man was really kinda cute in a shy, nervous, about-to-puke-he's-so-turned- on kind of way, Courtney worked in close to her customer. A little hand job through his pants would be just the thing to get her in the mood for lunch with Dr. Quinn. *** Kathleen Quinn didn't look anything like she had when she'd been the face on the monitors that the girls had feared so much during their captivity. Her face was paler and more haggard, her hair out of place and shaggy-looking, her impeccable grooming slid to slapdash, minimal makeup and thrown-on clothes. She wore a cheap imitation-leather jacket over a cable-knit sweater, faded blue jeans and sneakers, her sable hair gathered into a sloppy ponytail and cheap drug-store sunglasses nestled in her scraggly bangs. A smoked-down Marlboro Lights 100 dangled from a chapped lip. Unemployment had not been kind to her sensibilities. "You look like hell, doc," Haylee told her as she took a seat in the more private, "V.I.P." section of the club with its upholstered wingback chairs and private alcoves. Quinn lit another cigarette off of the butt of the last one and blew a cloud of bluish smoke into the air above her head. "I feel like hell, Haylee," Quinn said. "I haven't been sleeping well." "Warm milk and a good fucking usually does the job for me," Courtney supplied. "Thanks, I'll keep that in mind," Quinn said mirthlessly. She nodded to the waitress, who left her the Scotch-and- soda she'd ordered and took a deep drink. "Loosen up, doc," Haylee said. "Have a little fun." Quinn's voice became a snapping, venomous hiss. "Listen, you ignorant little bitch - you may have no concerns past what you're going to wear this evening, but I happen to have a life!" Haylee's eyes narrowed maliciously. "So did me and Courtney, before you and your fuggin' buddies took that all away from us, against our will," she said evenly, her New York twang seeming to make the words that much more ominous. Quinn deflated and scrubbed a hand through her lank hair. "You're right," she breathed after a long sigh. "I had no right. I'm sorry - I should never have said that, to you ladies of all people. Forgive me." "F'get about it," Haylee said, waving a long-nailed hand dismissively. "Don't mean nothin'," Courtney said. "Do you have the stuff I asked for?" Quinn looked around to make sure no one was watching and pulled a pill bottle out of her jacket pocket. She palmed it and passed it to Courtney, who made it disappear into a little sequined clutch purse stuffed full of twenty-dollar bills from her day's work so far. "That's some pretty potent stuff," Quinn cautioned. "Just one pill, okay? Overdose could be ugly." "No problem, baby girl," Courtney bubbled. "Now, you need to get home and get cleaned up. Put on something sexy. Tonight is gonna be fun." *** "To our continued success," Roger Kelly toasted, raising his glass high. His partners - Doctors John Coates, Phil Baker and George Camden, all pioneers in the technology that had led to the transformations of Joseph Murray Hargreaves, Corman Ambrose Taylor, Hollis Alexander Wainwright III, Stephen Klein Randolph and Donald Hale Gregory into the oversexed, buxom strippers named Josephine Marie Hargreaves, Courtney Amber Taylor, Holly Alexis Wainwright, Stephanie Claire Randolph and Donna Haylee Gregory - raised their glasses in accordance, smiling broadly and puffing on very expensive imported cigars. This celebration had been hard-won. Now most of the techniques and drugs they'd developed for the sexy girls they'd created were in the midst of FDA trials, the patents were pending at the first drafts of the papers they were writing were already saved on their hard drives. They stood to be famous and unbelievably rich, and none of them had really minded that they'd had to break a great number of federal laws to accomplish it. Only one of them had balked at the project's methods, and now that the goody-goody Quinn bitch was out of the picture and not likely to resurface, the way was clear. And if the four of them together couldn't crack the code surrounding Project Hestia, it was likely that some fat research grants and possibly even a Nobel Prize might end their careers. The club was hopping, a techno dance beat thundering out of the high-dollar sound system and a very flexible young brunette with creamy skin and little handful breasts was gyrating sexily on the main stage. Waitresses, half-drunk customers, managers and strippers of every imaginable body type from thin and waiflike to full-hipped and matronly circulated throughout the tables. Here and there among the sparsely-lit club, at the tables, one could see the slow, sexy caresses of girls atop men in chairs, their sensual lap dances half acrobatics and half masturbation. "Hey, there, boys, having a good time - Oh my God! Dr. Kelly!" The four men turned to see the large blue eyes of Stephanie Randolph. She wore black, shimmery hot pants and a tube top that strained across her perfectly formed breasts, adorned only with a red foil lipstick kiss on the left breast and right globe of her exquisite behind. Her chestnut hair was swept up and back at the sides to spill over her narrow shoulders in a lustrous, rabbit-soft curtain. She dropped her smoldering cigarette into the men's ashtray, dropped her tiny little silver evening handbag onto the table alongside her Midori-and-vodka cocktail and plopped deliciously into Dr. Kelly's lap. "OhmyGod, I haven't seen you in, like, forever," Stephanie gushed. "How the hell are you? You look great!" "Stephanie, how are you?" Kelly replied. "Let me introduce you to my partners. These are Dr. John Coates, Dr. Phil Baker and Dr. George Camden. It was their work, along with mine, that resulted in, well, you." She ran long-nailed hands down her sinuous curves. "You do good work, boys. OhmyGod, this is so cool! Stay put, I have to get the other girls to come by and say hi!" She scampered off in her skyscraper platform heels into the bedlam of the club. As was the way in strip clubs, it was a good deal of time later when she returned, threading through the thickening crowd of evening rush leading a string of beauties with linked hands. "Look who's here!" she said, doing a little sexy dance to the thundering music. "OhmyGod!" Courtney squealed, clapping her hands and bouncing up and down, setting her gorgeous breasts jiggling deliciously in the little filmy see-through confines of the gauzy poet's blouse she wore. Her perfect bubble of a derri?re was clad in tight black leather booty shorts that were split from top to bottom on each side and held together with laces. She wore knee-high platform boots in white pig leather decorated with silk- screened images of Marilyn Monroe, the Hollywood sign and Rodeo Drive. She gave Roger Kelly a tight, girlish hug and plopped into the lap of John Coates, putting her arm around him in such a way that his face was pressed against one of her perfect 36 DD beauties. "I'm Courtney, but you like, probably know that," she told him, flashing a beautiful but utterly brainless, vapid smile. Haylee, in a wasp-waisted black satin corset that pushed her already gorgeous breasts up into the most delicious cleavage the men had ever seen and a tee-back thong, black platforms with a pencil-thin chrome heel and her dark brunette hair teased out into a huge sexy coiffure in her inimitable Jersey Girl style, took over the lap of Phil Baker, ruffling his thinning salt-and-pepper hair as Stephanie resumed her seat in Kelly's lap across from her. Haylee made a pouty, oh-so-sexy mou? as she told Baker, "You have such a cute little mustache!" Holly Wainwright edged her way around the small table, leading with her magnificent ass. She was in her customary parochial school plaid skirt and necktie, white blouse and red cropped blazer, capitalizing on her freckle-faced 'good little Irish schoolgirl' looks coupled with the exquisite bombshell body. Her incredibly soft and dense coppery curls were pulled up into two immense pigtails over her ears. The little sidestep around the table on the towering heels made her boobs jiggle enticingly, holding a Mexican martini in a fluted glass in one long-nailed hand and a lit Virginia Slims 120 in the other. When she was close enough she plopped down into George Camden's lap heavily with a sexy little breathy grunt. She giggled and put her arms around Dr. Camden, pressing both her luscious breasts into his face as she took a long drink of her cocktail. "So, like, are y'all here to party?" she asked perkily. "Where is Josie tonight?" Dr. Kelly asked, craning his neck past Stephanie's obstructing mammaries to look into the club proper. Courtney paused in lighting a cigarette, gesturing very femininely with both hands. "Oh, she's at home, y'know, riding the cotton pony and stuff. Like, you really should have done something about that." "I'm afraid menstruation is a natural part of womanhood," Kelly said with a smirking grin. "Nothing I can do about it now, anyway." "She's gonna be so totally pissed that she missed y'all coming in," Stephanie said. "But hey - more for us, right?" "It's so totally cool that you're here," Courtney added. "Is it, like a special occasion or something? Y'all've never been in here before that I can remember." "We're celebrating the success of our work," Coates said, putting his arms around Courtney's slender waist. "We thought we'd take a long look at the results while we were at it, and besides - we own the club, so we get whatever we want here." "Like what you see?" Haylee asked. "Very much," Phil Baker said. "So, like, I guess we're celebrating, too, then," Holly bubbled. "'Cuz it's like, real close to our six month anniversary as girls. Can we party with you boys?" Kelly answered by tugging at the sleeve of a passing waitress. "Can you freshen up everybody's drinks and bring us four - no, make that eight more cigars? And a bottle of champagne - the Cristal, I think." "Sure," the waitress said, expecting a monstrous tip. "Oooh, cool!" Courtney squealed in girlish delight. "Champagne!" "Compliments of the owners," Dr. Coates said. "Then that calls for something special, girls," Courtney said to her companions. She pushed Coates back in his chair with one hand and got to her feet, pushing his chair gently away from the table with one foot. "One extra-special lap dance, compliments of the house." "Hold on to your hat," Haylee warned. The beat of the last song faded out and into the next song - Britney Spears "Slave 4 U", a favorite among the girls from their reconditioning - and the women slowly, sensuously and seductively pulled off their clothes with easy, practiced motions. They crawled into the laps of their customers and slid like lotion along their bodies, undulating sexually to the heavy beat. Haylee slid down Kelly's body like a silken wave, dragging her cottony breasts along the length of his body, feeling his erection rising against her taut belly. She ran long- nailed fingers through his bushy hair and sideburns, pressing her breasts against his throbbing arousal as she slid to her knees. Using her body to shield from the other patrons - lest they start expecting this treatment themselves, from the other dancers - she smiled sexily up at him through her long lashes while her hand found the outline of his erect cock through his trousers and gave it a gentle rake with her fingernails and then a nice hard squeeze. Kelly gasped and his body stiffened, making Haylee respond with a breathy, husky little laugh. She kept her eyes locked to his as she rose up, covering his face with her breasts and pressing him into her cleavage with her hands, grinding her crotch against his pubic bone and pressing the warm flesh of his cock against his thigh with the inner slope of the one leg she kept on the floor. What's practical, What's logical, What the hell who cares. "Y'know, Rog, there's always something that bothered me about you," she said breathily in her ear, giving him an unbearably sexy little whimper-moan in his ear as the sensitive bud of her clitoris came in contact with his belt buckle through her underwear. "What's that?" Kelly whispered, his breath effectively stolen. All I know is I'm so happy when you're dancin' there. "All that time you had us, you never did somethin' you should have." "And what would that be?" he asked. I'm a slave for you, I cannot hold it, I cannot control it. She curled against him, her breasts flattened against the upper slope of his pectorals, eye to eye. She gave a breathy little gasp and an open-mouthed smile as she held up a tiny little wrapped chocolate mint between the tips of her glossy red-painted fingernails. The special mint that would turn his semen into a counteragent for the enzymes in each of the girls' stomachs, which gave them debilitating cramps and nausea if they didn't have at least one dose of it daily. I'm a slave for you, I won't deny it, I'm not tryin' to hide it "D'ya wanna, baby? We can make it a real party," she whispered, her voice dripping with sexual promise. He couldn't even speak as she peeled the candy, rubbing his cock harder with her inner thigh and grinding against his thigh. Her breath began to become a pant and her open- mouthed, wide smile got even wider, exposing the soft pink expanse of her tongue. "I bet you have a beautiful cock, Rog," she said, running one hand through his hair as she put the mint against his lower lip. "Give it to me tonight, honey. I want it so bad, I wanted it from the beginning." His eyes never wavering from her smoldering gaze, he opened his mouth and let her feed him the candy. As he bit it in half, Haylee's perfect cover-girl face brightened almost as in orgasm and she continued her dance, pressing his breasts into his face hard. *** Josie Wainwright waited for her cue quietly, dressed down in a backwards baseball cap, flannel shirt over a T-shirt and blue jeans, her hair braided carelessly and lank and unwashed, looking like many of the lesbians who came into the club, trying to keep a low profile while they enjoyed the show. Unfortunately, her T-shirt was a second-skin black "Property of Playboy Athletic Dept." and her jeans looked like they'd been sprayed on, and she wore ankle boots with five-inch go-go heels and an inch-high platform. Her conditioning wouldn't allow her anything less. She was compelled to tight and sexy clothes that revealed as much as they concealed. It was as 'grunge' as she could get. One by one, the girls waited for the first chorus of Britney's "Slave 4 U" - Josie was having a very difficult time not dancing along, that song was one of her faves and she was compelled to dance the same way she was compelled to dress the way she did - before they fed the men their 'magic breath mints'. All of the girls had carefully choreographed their lap dances to that after the men took the candy the girls would press their faces into their soft, bountiful cleavage for a long, sexy eight-count. A wonderful feeling for a man, leaving his face surrounded in fragrant, sexy softness. And also leaving him temporarily unable to see. Josie jumped up, out of the secluded alcove booth she'd been occupying across from Kelly's table and quickly dropped a single tablet into each of the men's remaining drinks before the girls had even counted 'four'. Courtney gave her a bright but evil smile over the top of her customer's head, winking sweetly as Josie squeezed her hand in farewell and ghosted out of the V.I.P. section. She stopped only to tip five dollars to her friend Michelle who was dancing on the second stage and not making a lot in stage tips, get some soft perky 34 B's rubbed in her face, a nice little snail-tongued kiss, and she was out the door to the parking lot. Kathleen Quinn was waiting at the valet station, taking Josie's hand as she came out and leading her quickly to a waiting, nondescript blue Dodge Caravan mini-van. "How long?" Josie asked in her breathy Southern Belle accent. "Probably about ten or fifteen minutes after they finish those drinks. That was a very powerful sedative. It's not even FDA approved, they say the dosage may be too high," Quinn said. She started the van and pulled it out of the parking slip, passing a five-dollar-bill out the window for the valet for a tip and then five additional C-notes for his silence. He nodded solemnly and walked away, not looking back. "Drive around the back, there, sugah," Josie instructed, pointing off to the left as they came out of the parking lot. "We can circle the block a couple times, Courtney said she'd take the boys out the back loading dock when they were out." *** The pop of the champagne cork got a round of applause from most of the people in the V.I.P. section and the girls whooped and 'woo-hoo'ed in response, holding their hands above their heads and jiggling their bare breasts from side to side. They perched comfortably on the men's laps, giggling and chatting over the table, sipping expensive champagne from fluted glasses and puffing on the fat, thick Colombian cigars. It didn't take long for the doctors to start showing signs. Slack lips and jaws, heavy-lidded eyes, slurred speech and half-lidded eyes began after only four or five sips of the drinks. The girls pocketed the other unlit cigars - no sense in letting a good smoke go to waste - and when Dr. Coates, the last of them to succumb, let his head fall onto his arm, Courtney took out her cell phone and dialed the number scrawled in a bubbly, rounded hand and surrounded by hearts in pink ink on a pink Post-it. "Hey, baby," Courtney bubbled in her best Jenny McCarthy voice. "How ya doin'? Hey, listen, so like, our boys are ready. Can we get a hand here? We're up in V.I.P. Thanks, honey bear, see you in a minute." The girls decided to cover the limp forms of the doctors from public scrutiny by doing more lap dances to their limp forms, grinding and caressing their unconscious bodies all through Garth Brooks' "Friends in Low Places", Kylie Minogue's "Love at First Sight" and through the first bars of AC/DC's "She Shook Me All Night Long" before Kevin and his younger brother, Matt, showed up. "We need to get these guys out the back without anybody noticing," Haylee said, gathering up her clothes and redressing as quickly as she'd stripped. "Can ya do it?" "I dunno," Kevin said, rubbing his chin. "The place is pretty packed." "Oh, shit, man," he groaned when he lifted Kelly's head. "Damn, Courtney, these are the fucking owners, man! You didn't tell me you were going to give roofies to the owners! I'm gonna lose my job." "Josie said you'd back us up, loverboy," Courtney said, repairing her lipstick in a little silver compact from her purse. "And besides, he won't even wake up till y'all are long gone, all right?" "Come on, baby," Haylee urged. "Do it for Josie. Trust me, it's important." "What'd he, like, beat one of you up or something?" Kevin asked, punching his brother on the shoulder to get him in motion before dragging Kelly to his feet. "Worse," Stephanie said. "You mean this asshole raped one of y'all?" Matt asked quietly. Holly started to say no, but then thought about the long days of her captivity and only nodded. With a growl and a promise of rougher treatment, Matt hauled John Coates up to his feet and shook him a little. Between Kevin and Matt holding Kelly and Coates, Stephanie and Holly propping up Phil Baker and Courtney and Haylee dragging along George Camden, they managed - if a little bit 'Weekend at Bernie's' - to get the four unconscious men through the crowd, past the bar, through the storage room and it stacks of kegs and liquor cases, past the kitchen door and onto the back loading dock. Josie and Dr. Quinn were waiting, the sliding side door of the van wide open. The harsh thump of the club's sound system reverberated dully through the walls. Kevin dropped Roger Kelly unceremoniously into the van and shoved him in roughly with a foot before turning to Josie and giving her a long, very involved kiss, which left them both panting slightly, their breath frosting in the cool night air. "Take them back to our place," Courtney told Dr. Quinn, hugging herself and shivering as her breath made frosty plumes, which glowed behind her head, like a halo in the sodium streetlights. She shivered uncontrollably. "We'll be there as soon as we can. We have to go change into street clothes and sign out and pay our club fees." "We'll wait for you there," Quinn said. "Just hurry. I don't know how long the sedative will last, even with the alcohol." "C'mon, Courtney, I'm freezin' my fuggin' nipples off!" Haylee urged from the door, shivering and bouncing up and down. "All right, all right. Just be careful, all right?" Courtney told Josie and Quinn. "Kevin, thanks. You and Matt go home, we'll call you later, okay?" "Yeah," Kevin said. "Just give those motherfuckers something extra from me and Matt, okay?" "And remember, Matt, you're, like, totally blind and deaf, right?" Holly said between clenched teeth, shivering dramatically. "Yeah, I didn't see a damn thing in there, and couldn't hear anything over the music neither," Matt said, smiling. "I don't know how to thank you," Holly said. "Your phone number would be a good place to start, red," Matt replied smoothly. Giggling, Holly scrawled her number in baby-blue ink on Matt's outstretched hand, gave him a firm, lipsticky kiss on the cheek and bounced inside. The door slammed behind them. Matt looked at the palm of his hand with a big grin and jogged away. "Ah don't know how to thank you either," Josie purred to her lover. "Oh, I think you can figure out something if you try," Kevin said, kissing her deeply before disappearing into the gloom after his brother. "Cute guy," Quinn remarked, watching him go. "Yeah, he's a little rough around the edges, sugah, but he's real sweet and real good in bed," Josie commented. "Ah coulda done a lot worse." "We need to get going," Quinn urged, sliding the door shut and lighting a cigarette. "This is going to be a long night." Josie accepted a light from Quinn for her own cigarette and looked into the back seat. "Hard t' believe those fat sacks of shit did everything they did," she commented. "Yeah, I know what you mean," Dr. Quinn agreed. "Just needed t' remind mahself of that," she said, climbing in the passenger seat of the van. "It'll make the rest of tonight easier." *** Roger Kelly awoke in his own bed, groggy and disoriented. The morning sunshine slanted through the blinds across his face, leaving warm stripes across his exposed skin. He ran his tongue across his teeth to see if they truly were growing hair - they weren't, but it sure felt like it - and rubbed what seemed a month's accumulation of crud from the corners of his eyes. He was in the middle of a jaw-cracking yawn when he noticed a soft beeping coming from beneath the pile of last night's clothes on the floor beside the bed. He fished around, beneath his discarded shirt, socks and trousers until he found his bleating cellphone. It displayed that he had several messages waiting. Strange that he'd never heard the thing ring. He must have had more to drink than he'd planned. Some details from the evening floated through a murky fog, and they all looked like fun times spent in the company of strippers. He accessed his voice mail and listened to the electronic female voice tell him, "You have... six... new messages." Six? Who had been calling him all morning? "To play your messages, press 'one.' To change your greeting, press..." He keyed his choice and waited while the machine processed. "New message. Tuesday, eight forty-five a.m." A new, frantic-sounding male voice sounded on the other end, sounding panicked and unsteady. "Roger, it's John Coates. For God's sake call me back. Hurry. As soon as you get this." Stopping the rest of the playback, Dr. Kelly used his thumb to key in Coates' private cellphone number while sitting himself up in bed. He was a digit away from pressing 'Send' when his own phone rang in his hand. "Roger Kelly," he answered. "Dr. Kelly, this is Martin Cross with the Food and Drug Administration." Kelly sighed, relieved. The FDA had been calling him night and day for three weeks since his new research medication had gone to clinical trials. "Mr. Cross, what can I do for you?" "I need to meet with you this morning. I'm afraid it's serious. I'm conducting an investigation into some of the medications submitted for trials by you, Dr. Coates, Dr. Baker and Dr. Camden." "Is there some problem?" Kelly asked. "It seems that we have some reports regarding a study done two months ago. Something regarding clinical trials on human patients before you submitted to the FDA. There is also evidence that these subjects weren't told that they were in a drug study?" Kelly's heart fell. The transformation process! How could the FDA have learned about this? Only members of the research team had copies of the clinical reports, so that meant that the only ones who could have blown the whistle could have been Coates, Baker, Camden, or... His eyes widened. Or Kathleen Quinn. That bitch had sold them out! They'd confiscated her studies and data when they ousted her, shredded everything, but she might have had copies. They hadn't even thought to search her house! "I'm sure this can be straightened up immediately, Mr. Cross," Kelly said. "I'll just contact my colleagues and we'll..." "No need for that, Dr. Kelly," Cross said. "Your colleagues are already in custody. The FBI will be sending agents to your residence in a few minutes. Please be ready for them." "The FBI? What do they have to do with this?" "This investigation coincides with another investigation through the Securities and Exchange Commission and another through the U.S. Patent Office. It seems you and Dr. Camden dropped a whole lot of stock in a company called Endotech about three months ago, shortly before the company went bankrupt and closed its doors. The SEC is very curious about why you sold a very highly valued stock so quickly. And the U.S. Patent Office has questions to ask you about your recent application for a patent for some sort of virus technology, apparently it's very similar to a study patented over six months ago called Hestia, by the same Endotech, Incorporated. Again, Dr. Kelly, I advise you to wait in your home until the agents arrive." Kelly hung up and sprang into action, pulling on a pair of pants thrown across the back of his chair and struggling into his shoes. He grabbed his phone and wallet and began frantically searching the nightstand, floor, under the bed, the covers... The jingling of his keys behind him brought his head around. His wife, Joyce, was standing in the doorway, one arm crossed beneath her breasts and the keys in her other hand. "Looking for these?" she asked flatly. "Joycie, I have to go. Now. I'll call you later and tell you all about it," Kelly said, grabbing for the keys. "First, I want you to explain something," she said. She tossed an unmarked manila envelope on the bed and stood back. "That was in the mailbox this morning." Kelly opened the clasp and pulled out a sheaf of black-and- white glossy 8x10s. Featured prominently in them was Dr. Kelly, naked, being catered to in a wide variety of sexual fashions by a buxom brunette with her hair teased out into a huge coiffure. They both appeared to be having a marvelous time. "Is that the kind of woman you like, Roger? A big-titted bimbo?" she accused, throwing the keys painfully into the center of his chest. She followed by tossing a tiny little box, wrapped in plain brown paper with only the words "Roger Kelly" printed in black marker on the outside. "What's this?" Kelly asked, catching the little parcel. "It was with the pictures, you son of a bitch!" Joyce Kelly screamed. "Maybe it's her fucking panties or something! You bastard! How could you? We have two kids!" "Joyce, please, let me explain..." "Save it," Joyce said, holding up a hand. "I don't want to hear it. The next time you talk to me will be through my attorney, you cheating fuck. I'm going to take you for every penny you have." She snatched up the keys from the bed before turning on her heel. "And you're not taking my car, either. I don't know where yours is, probably still over at that bimbo's house." Kelly stood in stunned silence at the slammed bedroom door. In a daze, he looked down to the little parcel in his hand. Detached completely, he tore it open and pulled out a little note attached to an empty vial. Curious, he read the label on the vial when he noticed it came from Hart-Pearson's research lab. It was marked XT- 441A, the enzymes that had been used to make the women they'd created forcibly addicted to swallowing sperm. But why was it empty? He read the note, written in a bubbly, rounded hand like a high school cheerleaders. Dear Dr. Kelly - Have fun in prison! I'm sure your going to be very popular! XXOO, Courtney He gasped in shock, his hand flowing to his mouth, to the sickening fuzzy feeling on his tongue and teeth. Different than his usual morning breath, even after drinking. Could it have been an aftertaste? And were those the beginnings of a stomach cramp he was feeling instead of just the fact that he was hung over? These were the thoughts that consumed him when the unmarked black government Mercury pulled up in front of his suburban home. *** Even though "Dream Angels" didn't open until one in the afternoon on Sundays, the 'Fab Five' (as everyone had taken to calling them) still usually showed up about eleven, sitting at the tables over cigarettes and cocktails with their new boss. With the incarceration of all the other owners of the club, full and unimpeded ownership of the place went to the last remaining partner. It was a real moneymaker for Kathleen Quinn, enough to supplement her income for long enough to get a private practice opened. She was emerging as one of the foremost in the field regarding the subject of gender dysphoria and was in negotiations with the Food and Drug Administration to get access to some of Coates, Camden, Baker and Kelly's research for some of her patients who opted for gender reassignment. And along the way, she'd befriended the five women who'd been trapped in that room with the madman Kelly, first out of a feeling that she owed them for what she ignorantly put them through and later out of genuine affection. They added a much-needed element of fun and youth and exuberance to her life. She found herself looking forward to their weekend shopping excursions and the wild and sexy parties at their house. Dr. Quinn had come to love when they called her "Quinnie" and their silly in-jokes. Hell, even sitting around the house watching television or playing on their new X-Box was fun. Quinn had even taken to sending some of her advanced gender-confused patients to them. They were loving and sweet, more than willing to have the scared and awkward women who were misfortunate enough to be born in men's bodies join them for shopping excursions or just evenings in being 'one of the girls'. Sometimes Quinn believed that their ready acceptance of these unfortunate souls - tortured their whole life for feeling 'wrong' and 'crazy' - was an incredible balm to their spirit, and did more healing than a lot of conventional therapy. Strange that the women borne out of torture could become a force for healing. It was poetic, she thought. And she was more than willing to have the five beauties as a part of her life, and to be a part of theirs. She'd even let Courtney and Haylee pump her full of vodka and cranberry juice and talked her into competing in "Dream Angels'" First Annual Amateur Exotic Dance Contest. She'd come in second, but had gotten tipped an obscene amount, the five girls physically dragging some of their regular customers to the stage edge. Quinn smiled in painful recollection often - the whole spectacle had been beneath her dignity and altogether cheap and rather tawdry. And it had been the most fun she'd ever had in her life. "Penny for y' thoughts, sugah," Josie said, pouring herself another glass of wine and another for Kathleen. "Just remembering the amateur dance contest," Kathleen said sheepishly. "It's so cute that you still blush," Courtney put in. "So, anyway, who was that guy you left with the other night?" Stephanie pressed, grabbing both Kathleen's hands in hers. "His name's Frank. He's been remodeling my bathroom and we struck up a conversation, I told him I was going to a party over at some friends' house and did he want to come with, and the rest is none of your damned business," Kathleen told the table. Courtney bounced up and down excitedly, clapping her hands and laughing aloud. "I knew it! I totally knew it! You fucked him!" Kathleen blushed scarlet. "Well, actually - it was more like he fucked me." "Was he, like, hung well and stuff?" Holly asked excitedly. "Go get your own!" Kathleen said, laughing. "You're all a bunch of horny little bitches, you know that?" "You know it, baby," Stephanie said proudly, lighting a cigarette. "I don't know how y'all do it," Holly said. "That 'one guy only' thing. Don't you get bored with the same guy, all day every day? Like you, Jose. How do you keep from getting bored with just Kevin at home for you?" Josie smiled broadly. "Well, honey, that's a lot of man I got at home," she said. "And when it gets borin', well, we just try to recycle everything an' make it new again." "That's pretty much the trick," Kathleen agreed. "But don't you drive each other nuts?" Holly pressed. "Well, me an' Kevin have a little system. If I piss him off, then he turns me over his knee and spanks my ass. And if he pisses me off, then, well... he turns me over his knee and spanks my ass." "I think it's great, you seeing somebody," Courtney said. "It's about time." "Well, we're not all as lucky as Josie and you are, Courtney," Stephanie said, "just accidentally, like, bumping into the perfect lover." Courtney threaded her long-nailed fingers through Haylee's and gave her lover a heartfelt kiss. They were very much the hot item now that it was out in the open - the strong feelings they'd built for one another during their captivity could only be denied so long. And now that Dr. Quinn had found a remedy for the enzymes in their stomachs which allowed them to go up to two weeks without swallowing sperm, plus a coating of the catalyst in the chocolate mints bonded to their stomach lining so that they could use anyone's sperm without having to feed them candy beforehand, Courtney and Haylee weren't so constrained by having to pick out a different one-night stand every night just so they could give the blow job they needed to survive. Courtney and Haylee, like Josie and Kevin, had taken to going to be a little earlier than they had before, enjoying the sweet and quiet time alone as much as they enjoyed the wild, loud parties and the chaos of the club. "Not me, baby," Stephanie said. "No one man for this girl. I'd go crazy." "Figures," Haylee twanged. No amount of reconditioning or study into reversing the effects of their captivity could take away the compulsion for Haylee to speak without that broad New York accent or to tease her hair out into huge coiffures worthy of any Jersey Italian girl. So much of her personality was based around that image, a kissing cousin of Marisa Tomei's character in My Cousin Vinny, that Dr. Quinn was unsure she could ever separate the woman from the image, or the image from the woman. "What figures?" Holly asked. "We finally get a way to go a night without sucking dick, and Steph keeps right on going like there was no fuggin' cure at all, right?" "Maybe it's because, like, I totally like sucking dick! Duh!" Stephanie said. "Hey, me and Steph don't have to settle down if we don't wanna," Holly put in. "You go, girl," Stephanie encouraged. "So who's settled down? My life is wilder than ever," Courtney said. "You try keeping up with Brooklyn over here and see if you can call it all like, 'settling down.'" "Damn right," Haylee said, reaching over to squeeze her lover's firm breast playfully. "Hey!" Courtney squawked indignantly, gently slapping Haylee's hand. "Like, those are for the customers!" "Say, y'all, I wonder how Kelly is doing in prison?" Holly said. "I bet he's a real hit, having to suck cock every night like we did." "Probably a man-mattress for the whole cell block," Haylee laughed. "Let's not talk about him," Kathleen urged. "He's not worth our time." "Besides, we made the best of what he left us with," Haylee said. "I'm pretty happy as a girl, y'know? And besides, who knew there were so many career opportunities when you're hot and have huge tits, right?" "Absolutely," Courtney said, her eyes shining as she regarded her lover and her closest friends. She stuck her smoldering Capri 120 between her pouty lips and raised her wine glass high. " To us." "To us," they all agreed. Haylee squeezed her lover's hand. "And to career opportunities."