Degraded Assets - Parts 5 And 6 free porn video

"Blame and punishment are intensely individual matters. Where they are used to correct and to better the character, where they are the tools of the friends and teacher and not the weapons of the enemy, great care must be used. Character building is an aim, not a technique, and the end has justified the means. Society has just about come to the conclusion that merely punishing the criminal does not reform him, and merely to punish the child has but part of the effect desired. In character training punishment and blame must bring PAIN... It must teach the error of the ways and prepare the recipient for instruction as to the right way." "The Foundations of Personality" by Abraham Myerson "Degraded Assets" By Quiet Savage Part 5: In the deep thick wood "Don't make me do this, Bruce." She was standing there nearly naked, her privates on full display. She was wearing only heels, garter belt and stockings, a short red corset that left her breasts fully exposed and on her head were a set of fuzzy pink rabbit ears. "Come over here and hold my hand." he was peeking through a set of curtains. As Missy minced over to him he took her hand in his and squeezed tight. "They're almost ready." he then turned to her, "I don't want you to do it either, honey bunny, but we need the money. This is the big time now so it won't be long." Someone called from the other side of the curtain. "Okay, Bunny. You've been prepared, it shouldn't hurt too much or anything. So just do like we talked about, you know how it works." His eyes lit up with a big fake smile, "Big smile, and act girly. Don't forget they want a pretty innocent happy girl, but they also want a dirty whore." "A pretty innocent happy girl whore." he repeated for emphasizes. BANG BANG, SLAM BANG BANG, SLAM The music started - it was the open to Queen's "We are the champions" the anthem of a million jock pep rallies. Bruce was stepping back from her, allowing her hand to fall from his, "Big smile. Strike the pose. Happy girl." "We will, we will rock you!" BANG BANG, SLAM The announcer could be heard over the PA system - "And now!" BANG BANG, SLAM "The woman of the hour." BANG BANG, SLAM "MISSY BUNNY!!!" The curtain was pulled revealing Missy standing there in her outfit, hand on her out-swung hip, her other hand cocked bent wristed high above her head. Big happy grin on her painted lips. The announcer continued, "Gentlemen, GET READY TO ROCK!" "We will rock you!" BANG BANG, SLAM --- The set of "Ultimate She Male Gang Bang" was not up to all the pomp and circumstance; they would make it look more dramatic in editing. The movie was one of those disgusting gang bang pictures so popular in recent years, with a she male twist. Despite what the wording of the title may imply it was not a bunch of she males banging each other, only Missy and fifty men in three hours. It rightly should have been called, "She Male Gang Banged Ultimately" The Grin was more relaxed as she was led to the mat in the center of the auditorium. The whole time waving and blowing kisses to the camera and the men. A little strain could be seen on her face as the first man came to bear behind her, but the expression went as another entered her mouth. Soon she was lost in the men, one after the other taking her. She had to keep an odd rhythm thrusting her hips back into the man behind her as she kept site of the man in front and sometimes in her hand. Each man gave a money shot- on her back, her legs, her chest, on her pretty face. No time to clean up, gotta move on to the next cock. And fifty men? That doesn't translate into fifty cum shots, although they were all gay-for-pay Missy was so pretty and pumped up on Viagra the men were getting off on her two, three sometimes four times each. By the three-hour mark she was pretty well fucked. Pornography is a surprisingly low paying profession, at least for girls like Missy that didn't dance. Sure the producers and distributors get a good amount but the average girl like Missy sees none of those profits. "Gang Bang", Missy's highest pay out to date, brought her a pitiful $700. She only made $75 to a little over a hundred per photo shoot, a few hundred for a part in a film. And to add, or subtract depending on how you look at it, to her poverty Mr. Cone's company took 34% off the top for managing her; that's not 34% net, it's gross. Part of the problem that kept Missy from being a real break out TG star were all the riders in her contracts - She could only be penetrated; never penetrate others, if there were "toys" they had to be large and realistic, if she worked with females or other She Males she could only touch their "female parts" if she was being fucked at the moment. But most notable was the odd stipulation that Missy would not allow herself to get off. No, though she may be covered in cum, there was never a money shot for Missy herself. After each shoot she was locked back in her cage; the only points that counted towards her release were the points that she scored with Bruce. And after being around so many hot women, after watching hours and hours of porn to get the expressions and moves right, after being touched so expertly; all combined with the fact that, in a world as dim as the one Missy now inhabited, that moment of release was her only joy, her sex drive had kicked back into overdrive. She could no longer play coy. She came onto HIM, and as time went by she became less shy about it. Sometimes Bruce was getting off three times a day, Missy once. And Bruce made sure they did it everywhere- in her dressing room, the car, bent over the sink in bathrooms, over the couch, the knees of her stocking starting to run as they emerged from darkened alleys, on all fours in the living room, against the broom closet, over the wash tub, serving him on the dining room table, in the kitchen... All those little sub-points - finger sucking, French kissing, ear nibbling, back rubs and the rest took on new importance. She dripped sex, not just to Bruce but to everyone (though Bruce was the one she consciously tried to arouse, her new persona mingled uncontrollably with her personality), and still it was not enough. One time another tranny had taken pity on Missy. She had the girl on her back, fucking her, Missy playing with her own tits. The tranny seeing Missy's obvious excitement reached down and began to frig the girl. At that very moment Bruce stepped forward yelling something about breech of contract and tried to carry Missy out the door totally naked. It took half an hour to calm him down and assure him it wouldn't happen again. Bruce was another reason Missy lost out on some work. Bruce and Missy were a package deal - they were close, too close in many people's opinion. He was always there, hovering around, usually within arms reach. A few times people had tried to corner Missy, to talk to her alone, but it never worked; before they could get a sentence out Bruce would burst in and take her away. Some people thought they saw fear in her eyes. Others, however, saw something else- soul-mates. So Bruce was the jealous type? So what! They were obviously deep in love. The way they talked and joked with each other, the way she touched his wrist and arm, the way they held each other in the back of the set- she was always sucking his fingers or sitting on his lap kissing him or nibbling his ear. (PDA's added an extra .1 point; why, oh why, did Bruce so often lose track of all those little decimal places?). Missy was quite the little tart, a lot of guys wanted a plaything just like her. And then there were the tattoos! On Missy's chest in a tiny font was written the words "BRUCE'S SLUT." On her inner thighs, like sick parodies of an angel's wings, were two erect penises (much larger and fatter then her own, people assumed they replicas of Bruce) pointing to the future and marked: "Missy's purpose" and "natural order." She had other tats a lot of people missed; the slogans were also imprinted on her lips. To hide these stockings and heavy lipstick were no longer a costume or a fashion statement- they were a necessity. But the tattoo that got her the most compliments was the large heart on her right shoulder, Missy sitting astride it like a piece of World War II nose cone art in a pink bunny costume. The heart read- "Bruce And Bunny Forever." To those people the reason Bruce and Missy were always lost in their own world was not because of a profound problem in their relationship. No, "True love" is what many told themselves of the couple. She was always up for something: Videos, films, extreme S&M and bondage without any actual penetration (getting hooked up to a battery, red hot pokers centimeters away from her eyes and what not. She REALLY hated that; especially the way they stroked her back up before continuing), scat and enema videos. But the worst for her was the "semi-biographical" work she did. It was "biographical" in that it used real images from her life; it was "semi" in that all the voiceovers she did were written for her. It started with a slide show of Mike as a child, Missy's voice over talking about how she was "average" but terribly unhappy, then a brief description of his business career, then started her transformation to her "true self" documented with pictures and the film began to be cut with porn images of her being fucked and moaning. All till the final scene of her giving a well hung man a blow job with her talking about her current state, how she has a loving husband ("better then any man I was"), satisfaction and happiness. This was punctuated as she finished the job, her face turning to the camera, cum seen dripping from her mouth and her voice over saying, "this is my life now, and this is how I like it!" Bob had great fun with that one; making lists of people, some strangers but most not, to send it to all with a hand written note and signed head shot of Missy. She dreaded getting these lists, her eyes fixed on them as she sat at her make-up table, especially since there was an appeal- with each name there was a way out. If she did the prescribed task, things that would make a hard-core fan of those cringe shows retch, the name would be removed. The first notes were so badly written with shaking hands that they had to be re-written over and over, till finally they were smooth as ice; the "i" in "Missy" being dotted with heart. And there did become another way out. One day Bruce pointed at some names and said, "I don't think these people should find out." Soon Missy found she could get out of nearly all the note writing by appealing to Bruce. And he didn't ask for anything to do it, at least not materially. He wanted to see something, in her face, demeanor, or in the reflection of her voice that said she knew he was doing out of the kindness of his heart. He wanted to see "appreciation." If he didn't get it, if he thought she was acting or trying to play him, the name and the task stayed. His role as both disciplinarian and protector becoming more entrenched. She did many things one would not expect form a TG star even doing a topless spread in a motorcycle book on a modern custom (a real "garbage wagon", as that term would apply today; or be misapplied as the case may be, without the elegant lines of a "toaster tank" nor unforgiving efficiency of a cafe racer or a classic chopper. It even had neon lights!), her bits and pieces hidden. It was one of the rare blessings she had going for her; she was so passable and pretty she could do straight porn, TG porn being limited to a niche market. If they shot her right she could suck off or be banged with the best of the XX girls and those hetro men at home watching in the darkness wouldn't know a bit of difference; or the bits that were different. Not everyone wanted such a secret in a porn actress, she did take a pay cut for not being a real girl, but Bob's negotiators were so persuasive. She could never star in such a film, only a face in the crowd, one of many that gets fucked. But she did have a near star role. It was a porn version of one of those coming of age movies- the ones where at the beginning the star is a virgin but then "finds herself" by becoming a tramp and at the end finds true love with one man, the man who was there at the beginning; the man who was there all along. There was Missy reciting her lines in a tube top and micro mini, the sage voice of wisdom, explaining to the star why she should give in and embrace the slut inside. And Missy hated every minute of it, a maze of conflicting emotions she could never give over to the moment. Her body was responding but her mind could not forget what she had been, to her it was all horribly wrong. In a way she wanted it to go on forever because, she knew, when it was all over and they had all the money they needed she would be losing more than her self-respect. --- Missy had taken to crying in a big way. She cried when she was sad and she cried when she was angry or frustrated. When she was happy? She probably cried then too. Her five-minute fits of self-pity had gotten even worse after she had started her porno career. Crying, the way Missy did, was definitely not masculine but it wasn't really feminine either. Real girls cry when they want something or to get attention from those around them - it's a form of emotional blackmail. Missy, on the other hand, cried at the drop of a hat and for little, if any, reason. It wasn't masculine, it wasn't feminine; it was merely childish. This time though Bruce knew it was different, they were about to make a break through. Missy grabbed him by the hand after filming ended and dragged him quickly to her dressing room, her face about to explode in tears. This was not simply Missy crying herself to sleep or breaking in to tears as she vacuumed. This was not Missy silently sobbing in the back seat of the car because the doors wouldn't open from the inside. This was not Missy simply crying, this was Missy running to daddy. She pushed Bruce down on the sofa crying into his chest. Bruce tried to reciprocate her hug but could not find a clean way to do it - her body was a sticky mess of man juice and sweat, her hair matt with the drying cum of other men. In the end he gave in to the baby's need to be held and, damn his own discomfort, put his arms around her. "Take me home, Bruce," she whined, "You've won! You've beat me! I'll be a good wife. I won't complain. I won't be a bother. I'll be good! Just no more of THIS!" Bruce tried to console her, "you're a good wife now, baby." "But I'll be better! I won't try to run away! You won't have to lock the doors anymore. I just want to go home. Take me home, Bruce!" "Bunny, you and I both know I haven't had to lock the doors in some time. And don't even threaten to run away! Bob will hunt you down." The new threat that kept Missy in line? The "nice man downtown" was off the table, it seems Bob was in contact with people who were interested in making torture snuff. People who would dump Missy's lifeless corpse in the barren woods. A sad end to a sad life. "But..." she stammered, "you've won! I'll be a good wife! I won't complain! Please, Bruce, end this game. It's over! God, it's over! I'LL BE A GOOD WIFE FROM NOW ON!" "You're a good wife now, Bunny." he repeated as if to belittle her emotion, "And you WILL be a better wife, after your operation. And Bunny," he added, "When was the last time you were allowed to complain? I mean really?" What was most troubling for Missy was not that she couldn't stop this train wreck of a life but the realization she had absolutely nothing to bargain with. It wasn't simply that she had a bad hand, it was that she had no cards at all. She always thought that this submission - her agreement that "they" were better then her and that as her punishment she would quietly resign herself to home and husband, was what they wanted. And if she gave it, not just gave it but whole heartily agreed with it as she did now, than all this horror - the "game" - would go away. Mike, and the last of his resistance, behind her Missy would go forward a new born woman, a perfect little wife to Bruce. But it didn't work! She was still being forced on to the tracks. Little more then a foil for their plans, she had nothing and she knew it. "It's not right," she said. She cried it out, till her tear ducts could produce no more. She was at her lowest point; she needed something, anything! "Bruce?" she asked slowly, womanly, "before, when you said I was a 'pretty girl whore'? I'm not a 'whore'? Am I?" "No, baby." he said with understanding, "I said they 'wanted a whore', not that you ARE a whore. You're not a whore; you're a star, baby" 'Porn star'? 'Whore'? It was all semantics. But it was the perfect thing for Bruce to say. Somehow, Missy thought, she had snatched a small victory from the jaws of total defeat. "But since you brought it up," Bruce continued, "I was reading the adult papers and some trannies are advertising a rate of $250 an hour. And none of them are half as pretty as you." Missy looked up into his face with shocked dread only to be quickly relieved by his wide grin. He was joking! Poking fun at the dark realities of her life. Her sad mood pivoted on the moment. "Bruce!" she cooed, wiping a tear from her eye. "No." he squeezed her. "I wouldn't do that to my honey bunny." He said without a hint of irony in his voice. She lay there silently for a while before taking the initiative, "I was thinking about a book I was reading." She said softly, "It's one of the novels I was reading. Cassie hates this guy, Duncan, and all through the book he chases her and she resists her attraction to him. But then near the end of the book she realizes they belong together and in a big scene, with candles and rose petals by a water fall they come together and they have sex, you know, softly... gently. Nicely." "What are you saying, Bunny?" She looked up at him, her eyes large with need, "It can be like that with us. This story doesn't always have to be about you it can be about US." "I didn't realize it was about me?" "No, listen. We light some candles, I'll cook you a nice meal? I don't care about the points. If you're nice to me, just for one night, you can double the necessary points, triple them even!" she was worming trying to get closer to his face, her voice rising in pitch and the words spilling out faster, "I'll wait six or nine, No, eighteen!, points for my own pleasure." Not thinking, she was bargaining with the only currency she had left - her own suffering. "Please!" she pleaded. "Oh my bunny is such a romantic," he said with a little laugh. She nuzzled him, "it'll be good, Bruce, you'll see." "I don't know," he sighed, "seems like a lot of work. But yea, I was thinking of making a change. I was watching some of your DVDs and thinking. I want something different. No more getting three points and then a solo act as I hold you. From now on I only want you to cum while I'm in you. Face to face like you do on the set, eyes wide open. I want to track your face as I cum. I want you to be able to kiss me as you cum, to see your eyes in mine." Who was being romantic now?! Sometimes, Missy thought, Bruce could be so quaint. She had heard of this technique of sexual mind control before, the old "do it with the lights on while looking in each-other's eyes." It was supposed to foster a deep feeling of understanding, as if the act brought out one's true face and an animal connection made through lust. It was a primitive naive form of control batted around at 16 year old girls' slumber parties. It was also one of those things that didn't actually work; it would have been more effective, and easier, to just drop XTC together. However, in this context it was romantic, not flower petals and candle romantic, but romantic nonetheless. Missy could sense that if he was pulling this out now they were indeed near the end of the game. Her need had turned into a sly smile, "Bruce, I know what you're doing, that's not going to work." He stared down at her, "Well, then it won't hurt to do it. And when we do it like that it'll be both the point for the fuck plus and extra half point. You come out ahead. Besides, Bunny, you're wearing me out." "If you say so, baby," she laughed. She lay there on his chest for a few moments, her mood so light now. Despite the filth on her body, the aching of her muscles, the pain in her ass and the stiffness in her jaw she felt comfortable. She thought back on her life and all she had lost, all she will lose in the future. She had lost so much. The girls were gone, Kate was gone, the money was gone, any real chance at a future was gone. Mike's body, his identity, was gone. All these things were gone, most likely forever. And all these things were no longer for Missy. She meditated on this as she lay on Bruce's chest, listening to his heart. For the first time she could remember she was at peace. "Those things were good," she thought, "but this here, right now, is good too." "...Young male monkeys frequently adopt female sexual invitation postures and are then mounted by dominant males that would otherwise have attacked them... ... In our species there is, as we have seen, a strong tendency to 'fall in love' - to develop a powerful bond with the object of our sexual attention. This sexual imprinting process produces the all important long-term mateship so vital to prolonged parental demands... Certain key stimuli that are present at the moment of sexual reward become intimately linked with the reward, and in no time at all it is impossible for sexual behavior to occur without the presence of these vital stimuli..." From "The Naked Ape" by Desmond Morris Part 6: Sympathy for Kate: Debriefing "Go away Missy, I don't what you here," The voice came from behind the heavy wood door. "Please Kate," She begged like a little girl, "I don't have anywhere to go. Bruce kicked me out, Plleeaasse Kate" "Fine!" the door cracked, "But you have to call him. You have to go home." And Missy was let in to the town house that she, when her name was "Mike" and Kate once shared. Missy was shocked when she first caught sight of Kate behind the door. Her eyes were sunken and had a glassy appearance to them. Her raven hair was cropped short. She had a nose ring and since Missy had last seen her Kate had gained 20 or 30 pounds. She was still good looking and angular but not the hot little number she was when Missy and her were together. Kate looked butch; she looked as hostile as she was. "Kate, I a..." Kate turned, "go to the guest room and call Bruce, you know where it is. Let's see how fast we can get you out of here." --- They sat across the doctor's desk as he looked through her file. Everything looked in order - Missy had an active social life and live- in boyfriend. Her job, the way she was paying for the operation, was unorthodox but valid, all legal and everything. And it was only temporary anyway; she hadn't done it in awhile. The girl herself was a bit odd - her affect was blunted (that empty stare of an empty head) and she was a strange mix of passivity and flightiness and very nervous, but that's to be expected. And the psychiatric reports, prepared by the people at St. Bernard's of the Rosy Cross, a hospital subsidized by IEMWINS inc. (Industrial, Entertainment and Military World Information Net Systems inc., little wonder why they go by that Alphabet soup) an associate of ConeCorp, said she was ready. (The doc didn't WORK FOR that hospital, but he was the best in this area of the country which is why they chose him.)It all looked good, time to schedule the operating room. But the doctor wanted to talk to Missy alone; Bruce should go to the waiting room. When she emerged from the office there was no surgery scheduled. Missy explained to Bruce that the doctor had seen some "irregularities" in her file and that she had an appointment for three months later. Bruce let Missy into the car and closed the door behind her. But instead of getting in the driver's side Bruce disappeared around the corner of the near-by building. Missy waited there wondering where he had gone. When he emerged several minutes later he looked very angry, rushing to the car. He flung the door open and pulled Missy from the car, pinning her between himself and the car. "Irregularities in your file!?!" he screamed in her face. She cringed trying to avert her eyes. He then produced a micro cassette recorder and while still holding one of her wrists shoved it in her face. The doctor's voice crackled over the speaker, "Well, you're right Missy. It's a big step. So if you don't think you are ready then you're not. How about you come see me in three months and we'll see how you feel about it then, sound good?" "You... you bugged the doctor's office?" She stammered. Bruce stepped back and slapped her, slapped her hard, sending her straight to the curb. "You're damn fucking right the office was bugged! Do you get it now Missy! Do you understand! He's going to kill you, Missy! He's going to kill you if you don't go along! Dead! Understand!?!" "Bruce I... I am sorry, please." He was over her, menacing her, "Dead Bunny!" he yelled at slow pace at the top of his lungs, "D-O Y-O-U UN-DE-RS-TA-ND!? It's NOT a joke!" People were staring as they walked by but no one was offering to help the woman on the ground "Nobody wants that Missy! You don't want that! The surveillance team don't want that! It's why they gave me the tape!" his voice was cracking with emotion, she had never seen him like this. He threw the recorder down smashing it into a thousand pieces. He turned around trying to compose himself, rubbing his head as if trying to exorcize a terrible headache. "And I don't!" he admitted, "I don't want to see you dead." He was calmer but still highly angry, "damn it! God fucking damn it, Missy! It's not a joke! It's just gone so far, Bob can't let you go now. He's crazy." He was heading around the car still yelling, "Walk around! Clear your head, but don't come home till you're ready to cut it off! And Missy, if you can't do it then RUN! Run far, run fast and never stop!" The car squealed away. --- Kate stood outside the guest room, she could hear only half the conversation but she could follow it. She would get the tape tomorrow just to be sure. "Yes, Bruce" "I understand" "But I don't know, I'm not sure" "Yes" "I'm sorry" "I do, I want to come home" "Ok, but ..." "I'm sorry" "No Bruce it's not that easy" "I'm sorry" "Well, it's late I don't think it's safe to go out" "But, I still can't." "I know, it's not a joke" "I do! I do! I really want to come home!" It was as if the other end of the line had gone dead, she repeated the message slowly, "I just want to be at home, I just want to be with you." "I know what you said" "Ok" "I'm sorry" "K" "Bruce... I love you." She waited "Did you hear what I said?" "Bruce? ... Bruce?" She put the phone back on the hook. Kate turned the corner, handing Missy an icepack, "That's quite a shiner you got there. Does he beat you often?" "Sometimes, but not much." Kate had seen the video. Missy was right it didn't happen often but it did happen. She was never seriously hurt (this black eye was the worst she ever got) only shaken up, the point of it not being to hurt her but to increase the level of punishment, fear and perceived randomness of both. It would not be entirely accurate to call them "beatings" as they were often over in one slap or one punch. Missy always folded immediately and unconditionally, her only and best defense being total utter submission. And the worst part for Missy was she almost never broke the rules anymore, at least not as written. In the house of common the rules had become elastic, like so much spandex or rubber or cheap fake leather, that anything Bruce wished could be considered a breech. It is a natural tendency that when you have someone under your control, who lacks the ability to fight back or appeal to a higher authority, as Missy is to Bruce, to break all bounds of social restraint. Even if it had not been in the plan, Bruce would have done it anyway - that's the kind of guy he is. The effects of this escalation on Missy were profound, she had become actively passive trying to preemptively head off any problem before it got to Bruce. She did everything to insure that he was calm and to prove to him that he was "the man." She had become ultra-affectionate, ultra-understanding and ultra-submissive. Yearnings for the days when the rules were actually protection she overdid everything and in an effort to control his actions with her own she did it to perfection. Faced with the uncontrollable nature of the violence or the ritual spanking it was clear which she preferred. The one or two times when she realized she had broken the rules - she didn't wait for Bruce to find out. She went running to him, head bowed kneeling before him, her trembling hands raised above her she offered him the paddle; she begged his forgiveness for her transgressions, she begged to be punished. She was almost the perfect wife, which made her current behavior all the more baffling. She was still holding on to something, something she could still get her hands around. Missy put the icepack on the bed beside her, the time when it would have been useful long gone, "But it's mostly my fault," she added, "I should know better by now." "It's why his first wife left," Kate said slowly, "But aaa, I hear she found a nice guy. And you won't be leaving, will you?" "No, I guess not." "And he's not all that bad?" "He has his moments," she smiled looking down, "A lot of people misread him, he needs my understanding. He really is a good man, deep down." She went along but this was not what she wanted to talk about, "Kate, they were listening to me. The Doctor's office, they had a microphone ..." She stopped as Kate was franticly making a "cut" sign across her neck. After Missy trailed off, Kate put her finger to her lips to indicate, "shush". Missy sat there staring at the floor, so many things now made sense. But does knowing really change anything? Missy just felt more trapped. Kate began to speak very loudly, "You know Missy, when you're in the MALL you shouldn't talk about how you were once a man, some people who might not understand might OVERHEAR you, those people might hurt you. There's a lot of carnivores out there, people in the upper echelons of society. " Kate could see a faint look of understanding, but not much as if the girl was now numb to the world outside herself, "not everyone is on board, you know with the community, but people are being put in all the right places, and then we can talk in the MALL." She stood there looking at Missy, "and the world today? It's one BIG mall." There was no mike, no taps on her end of the line, no laser lights pointed at this house, Kate just wanted to shut the girl up. But there was that growing fear - Bob wouldn't do that to Kate, would he? As he became increasingly paranoid everyone became a target. Kate at least took comfort in the knowledge that Bob couldn't really be everywhere at once, or could he? "One big mall," Missy repeated, "but until then?" "Missy, sometimes you got to go along to get along. Back during the American Rebellion there was this fort down south, they built it out of palm trees because they ran out of real wood. No one thought it would hold up in battle. But as the cannon balls flew? The timbers bent rather then broke, no shot ever got through." "But, it's HARD." Missy whined, "I don't want to get the operation." Kate sighed, "What's your big problem with being a woman? Is it the sex? Sucking him off?" "No," Missy said, "that's good." "Getting fucked, then?" Missy shamefully darted her eyes to the right, "It's not right that I should enjoy that." she said artfully, "That violation of my body. I shouldn't. I don't. I'm not gay." Kate smiled knowingly, "Still holding on to that? No, Missy isn't gay," Kate explained, "she's just a little confused. But MIKE? He was a flaming homo." Missy's eyes shot at her as Kate continued, "Everyone knew. It's called 'Sublimation.' We can't make someone /enjoy/ that through rote. There has to be something there to start with." she lied. "It's not normal to graduate a year early at the top of your class, it's not normal to be captain of the golf team and top scores on the archery team, It's not normal to make a million before your 20th birthday... See, Archery team? That's a rather feminine weapon, not like the rifle team or jr. ROTC. One wonder's why you didn't go into the infantry, like your father, like a real man. Instead you became a company boy. You were always there on the side line cheering on the guys, waving your pom-poms, the perfect little..." "Kate?!" Missy said looking around and biting her thumb, "What are you talking about? I wasn't a cheerleader?" "Cheerleader?" Kate halted then spoke slowly, "Yea, I guess that was someone else. Someone out in the cold. Someone who's been an independent contractor for too long, just a whore. The old guard, lost a long time ago..." She puckered her lips collecting her thoughts before continuing. "But, back to Mike. See, he was covering for something. And now I think he knows what it was, I'm sure Missy's body is teaching Mike all kinds of /interesting/ things he didn't know about himself, about what he really does enjoy. About what he SHOULD enjoy." "You're twisting the facts." "It's not so bad, you have Bruce." "Bruce?" Missy said in a far off voice. "Has your relationship with Bruce evolved any? Has he ever said that he loves you? Maybe, not in so many words." She thought about it, "Love? I think," She stopped, "I think he feels some need for me. I think he wants to protect me, he doesn't want to see me dead." "And you Missy?" Kate pointed her finger, "Do you 'need' Bruce?" Missy sat deep in thought, "I don't know. It's just been so long, we've been together so much. I can't imagine him not being there," Kate waited for her to finish her thought. "I want him there." She said softly. "Needs? Wants?" Kate's smile was getting obnoxious, "sounds like love to me." she licked her lips, "See, people think love is this big earth shaking thing. Most of the time though it's just a need, a want, for the other party to be there. But, I'm thinking maybe, you have it backwards." "What?" "You need to turn it around to get it right. I mean all things being relative, like points on a map, who 'needs' who? Really? When he's upset are you upset? If he has a problem do you solve it? Do you know how you feel or do you just feel him? When you look in the mirror are you asking yourself if you're pretty or do you ask yourself if Bruce will think you're pretty?" Missy's hand shot to her mouth and her eyes widened as if she were the one talking, as if covering HER mouth would stop the words, stop the revealing of her awful secret. "You need him." Kate moved her hand in an arch from west to east along the x-axis of her body, "He is the sunlight that warms your body. You need him to provide for you, to protect you. You need him to tell you your place in the world. You need him to look at you the right way..." "I need him to touch me," Missy took over, "I need him to tell me I'm good. I don't know who I am any more, I need him to tell me." She moved forward looking on the verge of tears, "I do! I do! I need him so much! Oh God forgive me, I do need him. If he weren't there I wouldn't be there either!" "God!? Don't bring him into this! You worship at a new alter now, on your knees taking liquid communion! God has nothing to do with your sick 'needs.'" "Kate, please. Don't say things like that, be nice. Just be nice." She added weakly almost silently, "Nobody's nice to me anymore." Kate rolled her eyes, "Don't be such a prude, Missy. No one goes to a real Church anymore. Even your own mother left after the services of '75." She waited for Missy to compose herself some, "and what you NEED is the operation." "I guess. Maybe." she said rubbing her nose and again rolling her eyes to the right, "I want the operation for Bruce. I just need more time. You can talk to him, get me some time?" "Missy, I think for Bruce this HAS been an earth shaking experience. He thought he was getting a live in maid and sex slave. But you're taming the beast; he's totally fallen for you. You men are such hopeless romantics, your hearts and minds are won so easily." "But," she continued, "there's a problem, so long as you have that thing between your legs he's going to think there's something wrong, either with him or you, he might not know. It's a barrier he'll never get past. And the longer you wait the worse it will get." "But, it's all I have left. It's me!" The internal conflict between Missy's needs and Mike's desires now coming to her full attention. "Haven't you learned anything by now? You don't HAVE /anything/? Not your possessions, not your body, not you mind. None of it's yours." "My mind!? That's mine!" "Really?" Kate laughed,"Do you think Mike would be here right now expressing a NEED for another man? Even your basic drives, your needs have changed. You now MUST take the submissive role in the relationship." "No!" cried Missy, but it was a "no" that evidently said "yes." "Yes, Missy. The foundations of your personality have changed. I heard you, not five seconds ago, say you like to suck cock!" "I didn't say that!" yes! "You want it in you. Someone can't just cry out and TELL you you were good. You need proof positive of his love. If he could produce a gallon you'd drink it all." "No," yes! "Being fucked, being used, being filled. It's like a drug, once the needle pierces the skin you can't get it out. It becomes the only true validation of your humanity." "Kate, no!" Kate, YES! "If you woke up tomorrow in your old body? How long do you think you could go before you need a fix? A cock? Trolling the gay bars, the bath houses, dirty public rest rooms. Begging every man to touch you, to put you in your place. Telling you you're GOOD." "Don't say that!" do it HARDER! "Wanting that cock, then the next. And how long do you think it would be before you want tits? Tits on yourself. Tits so you can attract cocks." "Kate, please." (sic.) "I'm right? Aren't I?" Missy's eyes were now moving side to side, searching, "NO, you hypnotized me! You made me want it. It's not my fault!" HARDER! Kate laughed out loud, "Do you know how stupid you sound! See, some of us still program the assembly, in the old way, going right to the naked metal; the old operating system is now the ghost in the shell, not just for fun either! Mike took a fork into Missy! You're a victim of your own id, your roots - fears are just hopes suppressed!" "Stop it! You're not being nice." DEEPER! Kate pushed on, drilling into her, "We're your ego now! You been wearing four-inch heels so long you couldn't even wear tennis shoes if you tried. Frankly, I'm surprised there's any super-ego left. I have your power; your soul. You think the lights went off by accident? You think that feat was easy?" "Be quiet! I need to think." FASTER! Kate's speech was quickening, "Your blood won't come cheap again! And the switches in that wormy ether of your mind? You're giving those away! Fault? Who cares. We just used brute force, the rest was all you! I'm surprised a stupid horny slut like you can string two words together, two bits even, and I'm sure that will change soon too." "Kate, no! It's not true." YES! YES! YES! "Still think the world is so simple? It's not always as easy as just looking up. If you indulged in your filthy habit right now, who would you think about? Me or Bruce? You need something extra now, the girls in 'Playboy' aren't enough anymore! Your mind? It's no more yours then I am. Face it, Missy, that little thing doesn't match any other part of you, not even your subconscious!" Missy held her breath, eyes closed as a single tear rolled down her cheek, "You always did understand me, Kate." She looked up at the woman, "I need YOU to tell me who I am." "Well, that's something we should talk about." Kate rolled over, "It's time for another name change." "No, Kate, I meant..." Kate ignored her, "Your name is too close to your screen name. You will, naturally, be taking Bruce's last name. And 'Bunny' is a fine middle name." "'Bunny' is a nick name." She was looking away, confused at being so ignored. "Don't be silly, I know plenty of women named 'Bunny'. Your first name is wide open." She waited, "How about Clover? Or Samantha? Alexandria? Emma's cool." "What about Michelle?" Missy turned back. "No neither 'Michelle' nor 'Mickey', I think you know why. It might be best to stay away from 'M's altogether. There's lots of other good names out there. I know, 'Foal', that's original. Or Prophecy? Angel?" she was now counting them out on her fingers; just listing ridiculous stripper names, names no one in their right mind would name their daughter much less themselves, "Savannah? Krystal? Kitten?" "'Kitten Bunny'?" Missy's strain face laughed, "how about 'Bambi'?" "Yea," Kate stopped, "I always wondered about the fascination with that name. If you watched that old movie you realize that Bambi was a male deer. I don't think that name would suit you too well. I'm sure, though, Bruce and you will think of something." A silence came over them. Kate noticed, that Missy's speech was now off - she hit the wrong syllables, as if even statements were now questions. And her eye contact was only short and fleeting, like she was now perpetually lost in her own world and was afraid to make contact outside it. Now the girl just sat looking at the pattern on the blanket, "What's the matter?" "I'm just thinking about the operation." "Back to that again?" "There's something you don't understand, something important." "Spit it out, then." "Well, the normal way the operation is preformed is to invert my penis to form my pussy. But they can't do that with me. Bruce is too big compared to how I am, he would destroy me if they did it that way. They need to make me wider and deeper so I can accept him." "What's that mean to you?" "It's just that it seems to, I don't know, imply something. I mean, Maybe I can accept that I made my body to please men, I guess," she stopped for a second, "I must have wanted it all along." She paused, absorbing her new truth, "It's the only way any of this makes sense. But this? It means something else, like my body was made specifically for Bruce. My pussy would not be just to fuck, it would be made specifically to be fucked by Bruce. My body being made for him." "Hua? An interesting interpretation, I don't think I'd have thought of it myself, but we covered this already. That body, that soon to be cunt, it's already Bruce's. And, if you 'need' him why not? Maybe, this wasn't just serendipity. Maybe pleasing Bruce is the fate you were born to. If all along your body was meant to be used by him then shaping your cunt to him is a natural extension of that purpose. You could do worse then to tell yourself that it's destiny." "Destiny?" a soft smile coming to her lips, "Bruce and Bunny forever, right?" she said almost gleefully, happy that Kate was giving her an out. "Forever and ever; the ultimate wedding ring." Missy let out a pained giggle. Kate went into a low whisper, "I shouldn't tell you this, Missy. But you're about to become a mother. Have you ever thought about kids?" Actually, Missy HAD thought about it, and Mike had fallen so far as it was becoming downright desirable. Someone to care about, someone with unconditional love for her. Someone to care about who she was, not what she could do for them. Someone that needed her as much as she now needed everybody else. But she always thought it a pipe dream, after all she wasn't really equipped for such a venture, "It's not possible." "Not in the usual manner, but adoption is there. I know what you're thinking - an ex-transgender porn star and Bruce, the way he is, doesn't look good on an adoption application. But Bob? He's rich and when you have money you can do anything. You see, the rich aren't mere mortals. So, he wants to give you a son; he thinks it would be great fun watching you toil over another man, nipping at your knees. Bob himself is a family man, Bob jr., you know. Such a beautiful dark haired little boy." Kate looked away for a moment, "Your child? I think he should have light hair like his mother. It will make it easier when he becomes like his mother, JUST like her." "I...I..." Missy stuttered, "I don't understand." "That's the joke! Bob works in such odd ways. He gives you a son and then fourteen or fifteen years down the road he gives you a daughter." Missy's face descended into a pained confused look, "That's awful. Why?! Who would do that!? You have to stop it! I won't be part of it! I'd rather kill the baby then do that!" Kate crossed her arms and constricted her eyes, "You think you could do that? To look down into the crib and put a pillow over its face? Is it in you?" Missy's mood sombered and she spoke softly, "I've done lots of things I never thought I would." "As for the why?" Kate continued, "Symmetry, I guess. Bob jr. may need a plaything. And who? Missy, you seem to be laboring under the misconception that everyone around the world shares your western values, your funny need to follow rules and regulations. You make and follow rules that destroy yourself. But today the world, the corporate world, is international - a global village. Like I said the rich aren't mortals, they're not tied to one country or another, they can go where the values best suit them." "But to do that to an innocent? It's not right; it's inhuman!" Missy cried in horror. "See, we do to others what was done to us OR what we fear will be done to us. He, well 'we', did it to you. Things become right because we do and nobody stops us." She stopped, closing her eyes looking for the right words, "See, once you find you can do something you do it again and again, it's human nature. How do you think all that good stuff in history happens - witch trials, tyrannies, concentration camps and what not? It all starts with one, something small, then builds." "Bruce was right, you're all crazy." "/He/ is, Missy. Not me. You see this mall, people think it's there for the customers, people like Bruce and you. But there's a whole power structure there that most people don't think about - clerks and managers and owners and a lot more levels, nine in all, most people only see three. Sometimes, a manager gets too big for his britches and thinks he's an owner; he gets canned. Some clerks get promoted. And there can be times when a clerk, by sheer force of will and guile, makes her own promotion and ends up owning the whole mall, the whole /fucking/ thing. When that happens that clerk shouldn't forget the gal that helped her along the way. Even customers can get a promotion." "What are you saying? Your terms lie, its all double talk in triplicate. Your logic is all convoluted." "Such big words," Kate snapped her tongue with a big grin, "I was sure that would've been out of you by now, you are MUCH more resilient then I imagined." Kate continued after a pause, "I'm just saying before I met you, I was nothing. Now I drive a Mercedes, never really was into nimble little cars. Plus I've met people I never thought really existed. I was an art school drop out, wondering aimlessly through life. But I knew I was meant for more. Back during the Kuwaiti Conflict, never told you about that did I? It was February 25th 1991 and a SCUD hit a barracks, killing over 20 and wounding 91 others. Funny thing is, a few moments before I had been standing right at ground zero when I had a feeling out of the darkness telling me to get out. And now I'm here. I was protected, providence you might say. I've heard it happening to others, important people, and it really happened to me." Missy feebly shook her head with a sad confused look on her face. Kate moved on the door jam, "don't worry about Bob. When you get your son raise him to be like his father. If in a few years he is delivered up a dark haired little girl, make her be like her mother. And if the Father's son turns out like his dad and treats the Mother's daughter like the father treats the mother; making her sleep naked and crying at the foot of his bed? Don't stop it, let it happen." "Kate, nooo." Missy said, aghast almost whining. Kate put her finger to her face, "Hmmm? I should think that would make you happy?" Missy again looked at the blanket, lost in her own mind, "I wouldn't wish this on ANYONE; not Bob jr., not Bob himself. This Cursed body, pulling me around like a dog on an invisible lead. To see it coming and not be able to stop it, to enjoy it while its happening, to feel bad afterwards. To have it start again; wanting it to start. And not just the sex - the right combination of words, a look in his eye, the warmth of his body; being held tight, thinking of nothing else; doing everything to get it for just a SECOND but knowing it's wrong the whole time - the punishment of reward. The worst criminal deserves better." "Love." said Kate, "What a mental disease. If I'm on this earth another seven thousand years I'm still not going to get it." She shook her head. "Guess that's why it's called the 'institution' of marriage." "Now let's review. You want him, you need him, you LOVE him," Kate made sure to hit 'love' just to be clear what their talking about, "and you lied the first time round; you just admitted you enjoy the sex too." The fact Missy could still show anger really said something about her, "I can't believe how good it's gotten." Missy said angrily and whining at the same time, as if such enjoyment, or admitting such enjoyment, pissed her off, "If you told me years ago I'd have laughed, I don't remember what that feels like anymore. It's different, it's not like making love to a woman - My whole body, my whole mind, my whole spirit is engaged. It's like seeing it from the other side first has given me some insight on how to make it better for him, his control and it always being 'wrong' makes it better for me. I smile now," she closed her eyes for a second, "It doesn't bother me like it should." She said making clear both the problem and who she blames, "My heart no longer races because of fear, it does it for another reason. He defines who I am, he puts me there - That's not proof of his love; that's proof of who I am, where I belong." Her knuckles whitened, must be painful with those nails, "where I want to be. It just feels," angrily, "soooo good!" As she spoke to her confessor she was hitting all the right syllables. She was so sure of her facts that it transcended the psychological damage caused by the repeated, prolonged and intensifying (things not always written about) trauma of these years. "I'm slipping away. All I already want is to be at his knee, to lie before his feet. I want people to see us, I want them to know I'm a possession. If even that last thing were totally under his control, if I no longer had any definition other then his." She paused, "I would go insane. I can't control myself now, not even when I try, what hope have I in the absence of myself?" "Happiness." said Kate, "Not trying, to be and not to be at the same time that is the trick; 'tis a consummation and not. Devoutly to be wisht. To sleep and by sleep to say we end the heart ache. This is the moment. Ragnarok. Zen." "No." said Missy straining to be heard, "you can't do this. We men aren't made for this, we don't have the defenses. You have to stop doing it to me, you can't do it to another." "Oh, well." Kate said, "It's going to happen either way. See, It's all in the Bible, been reading that a lot lately, right there in the front - Genesis chapter three. Women should be punished for their mother's sins and little boys for the father's. It's not so bad, it's the way it's suppose to be. It's the way it will be again." Missy tightly shut her eyes trying to make the world go away. "It's not always what's beyond good and evil sometimes it's about what's beyond freedom and dignity. See, Missy a lot of things I said these years were rubbish but not all of it's been chicken feed," she said looking at her feet then back up, "If you gaze for long into the abyss, the abyss also gazes into you. And then? It becomes a question of who the abyss is. Have we been doing the gazing or ARE WE the abyss. The real facts are that when you fight monsters, become a dragon slayer, you become a monster yourself." She tilted her head back, looking down, "Does THIS make you feel any better?" "No. It actually makes me feel much worse." Missy opened her eyes looking down, defeated, "Do you have to use a razor blade to cut out the parts you like, can't you just read the whole book. You and Bob deserve each other. You're a snake, Kate." she let out a breath like she had finally heard Kate for the first time, "You really ARE crazy: psychotic." "Missy, Missy, Missy," Kate shook her head, "What are we going to do with you? You have so many things backwards. Go home, get your balls cut off and, Missy, be happy. You don't have that bad of a life, your point of view is just askew. You want to serve the one you love and he wants that service, you even have a bit of fame. You get enjoyment from your new purpose too. All your basic needs have been met. It's not the life you planned on as a child, that's true of most people. We could have locked you in a drawer, with your arms and legs cut off. But, you've been made a pretty girl, what an AWFUL fate. There's a thousand girls out there, some men even I bet, that would trade all they have for what you have been handed. So Missy, dear, dear, Missy, if you're not happy it's not our fault, it's yours." She waited. "Now," Kate shifted, "go to bed, tomorrow morning I'll have Bruce come pick you up. I'll tell him about our little conversation too - I hoped you enjoyed your last time because it WAS, at least as a man. You just don't seem to get it, you're not Mike anymore!" she said almost gritting her teeth, "This is no game; it's your life, forever Missy. It's /never/ going to change." Kate then flipped off the light but Missy could tell she was still there, waiting in the dark, listening as Missy began to openly sob. "Kate?" "What?" "It's not right what you've done." She sobbed, "It's not right." She repeated, "You have to help me," she sobbed, "I need help," sob, "before it's too late." Sob. "It's too late already, it's been too late for some time now." She sobbed, "Bob and Bruce and you have forgotten," sob, "the truth." "And what's the truth, Missy?" "That all men are created equal." Sob. "Yea." Kate let out a sigh, "I'd expect someone like you to say that." She started walking away, "stop looking for 'a change of mind', because that's YOU; if YOU get what I've really been saying." Adding whimsically, "Keep turning one way long enough you end up turning the other, two wrongs don't make a right but three lefts do." Now down the hall, Missy could still hear her "'Kitten Bunny'? I hope I'm not hearing a come back." Almost out of ear shot, "THAT bunch," laughing, "I can't WAIT for your first PTA meeting." And the sissy was left crying in the darkness. Vulneror, non vincor: data fata secutus, quantum sufficit. THE END Copyright 2004 Quiet Savage [email protected]