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I Can See For Miles By Tyrone Slothrop Author's Note: This is the fourth Angel story and he needed lots of help for this mission. Even when I threw in characters from my previous work into the mix, we still needed more. I then reached out to other authors who had created heroic figures with a similar purpose. You will see a series of works attached to this story, all launching off the same assignment detailed in chapter 20. I can tell you we had fun doing it- Tyrone Slothrop _____________________________________________________________________ Opening Scene: You Only Hurt The One You Love - Cyberspace and points in reality - May "WELCOME BACK! LollyPop: Member Class=Voyeur, SELECTION=JOHNNIE TO JILL" scrolled across the all black screen of the laptop. LollyPop bulged in anticipation, a thin stream of saliva slowly dripping from the corner of his mouth until it was stopped by colliding with the PgDn key. He had made sure his account was paid up at TransTalent website since he did not want to be cut off in the middle of the action. The video window popped up, quickly resolving into clarity over the broadband connection. LollyPop could see the 'Domme' level chat level members select the next humiliation from the script options. The girl in leather towered over the quivering victim. The boy on screen broke into tears when she demanded he wears the offered petticoat. Lollypop guessed that the 'Domme' level members had chosen the little girl dress up theme. The time was perfect for LollyPop with his parents sound asleep and no school tomorrow. The credit card charges had been buried in his father's voluminous bill. Dad never checked any item under $100. The money to move to the next level of membership was beyond his means, so he had to live with the passive observer status his $50 per hour purchased. It was so much more exciting than just reading erotic fiction. They guaranteed that the humiliation was genuine and it sure looked like it. The message board at the erotic fiction site had led him to an email exchange with someone known as Red_Velvet_Usher. They had recommended he try TransTalent and gave him the passcodes after he had paid $10 for a guest membership. The borrowed lingerie from Mom's drawer tight in his grip, LollyPop watched and listened to the pleas of the boy on screen as he whined and complained about the curly wig being settled on his head, the exaggerated blush applied to his cheeks and the patent leather shoes he was told to put on over his tights. The girl began stroking the boy's crotch under the petticoats and the boy began to respond despite the hormones he had been administered for the last month. LollyPop could not contain himself anymore. His eyes closed and his hands left the keyboard. LollyPop would be back as soon as he could. He did not want to miss a week of Johnnie's relentless feminization and submission. As soon as he could hide the next charge on the credit card. ___________________________________________________________________ Chapter 1: Angel Accepts The Inevitable - Group Facility, Los Angeles, California - June The buzz of background conversation died a quick death in the locker room. The figure in black leather and jeans slowly made his entrance. "Is that him?" the cop said, flipping his blonde hair back over his shoulder and having it fall smoothly down his back, right to the bottom edge of his halter top. "That's him. They said he nearly died from his last job. He's been out for most of a year now." The second agent replied while he applied mascara to his lashes. Angel, the man in black, walked haltingly past the vanity tables, the hair dryers and changing areas. He saw reflections of reflections in the multitude of mirrors around the room. He was determined not to stumble as he made his way to the lecture hall. Primary colors are the source of vision. Some people have the ability to detect fine gradations and shades and others were immune to the differences. Angel felt his senses becoming less discriminating as he aged and wondered if it was the distraction of the mind which comes with increased responsibility or a physical loss. As he approached thirty, he appeared to have aged little, even to those who knew him well. Five foot seven inches, lean frame and delicate hands with brown hair now covering his shoulder blades. When they looked closer, his eyes had become colder, harder and more distant, and the skin around them had taken on a grayish pallor. A network of fine lines was apparent, the result of many layers of pain endured and observed. Frank, his adoptive father, had always said of him. "Angel has the face of a beautiful boy and a pretty girl coupled with the eyes of a Marine Corps sniper on a long mission." Angel entered the empty lecture hall, empty save for Bob Angelo, former State Attorney General and now special advisor to the Governor. His impeccable Italian suit contrasted with Angel's black leather blazer, black tee shirt and jeans. Bob ran to the edge of the platform to provide a steadying grip as he saw Angel struggling up the stairs. "Dammit, Angel, Carolyn's going to kill me! I should have known not to trust you when you said you were well enough to come here today!" Bob said, concern evident in his tone. "I'm fine Bob, and I need to get out and move. I promise I won't die on you now." "I like the hair, kid. You trying to match your Dad?" Bob smiled, changing the subject. Frank was known for his waist length style. "Carolyn wanted me to grow it out for the wedding. She said one of us needs to have a real elaborate style for the ceremony." Angel smiled in reflex at Bob's expression. Bob shifted topics again to the matter at hand. "They are all here to see the legend today. We've got seven in this group and they all have been on at least one solo operation. Two are city cops, three are state agents, one is a fed and one is an Aussie. They have all passed the trust test. And all are on leave for the next week just to attend your seminar." "I assume you are getting out before they show up, right?" "Of course. Need to know and all that. I just wanted to see you in the flesh. I'll be watching some from the video feed, but then duty calls. It's good to have you back, Angel. Give my love to Carolyn and Frank." Bob broke character for a minute and Roberta emerged to kiss Angel on the cheek, followed by Bob hugging him. A tear made its way down Angel's face as he watched the man leave. He remembered looking up at the blue uniform and then Bob's face as he was rescued from his living hell almost twenty years ago. Bob had gone on to become the Operations Chief for the Group, the role he still held. Seeing Bob let the Face out. The beautiful face of his tormentor that was normally locked away in his memories. He was twelve again and strapped to a wall. She was taunting him but her voice was silenced. Angel summoned the will and she went away. The students filed in, wearing outfits ranging from teen pop star to classic cocktail dresses. They broke up into the expected groups, local cops, state guys, with the Fed and the Aussie sort of together. The class structure of law enforcement looked very similar to high school girl's cliques. A slow scan of the audience proved to be enlightening. Angel smiled and was impressed by how the agents had responded to his first assignment. The Group was composed of extremes, not averages. It intentionally set out to find the extraordinary not the ordinary. Many crossdressers (CDs) are not driven by pain and abuse. Many victims of pain and abuse are not CDs. A small percentage of CDs can pass effectively as women and boys. Still fewer are skilled and lethal undercover operatives. But from across the planet, they had found the operatives they needed, never large in number, usually less than the fingers on two hands, backed by others less gifted in beauty but no less committed to the mission. "Welcome, gentlemen. I am glad to see you all got into the spirit of the opening exercise. I asked you to show yourself as your 'dream' persona, the one you enjoy the most. I did that because this may be the last time for a while where you get the freedom to pick your appearance." Angel opened the session unexpectedly, speaking in a soft voice which somehow carried over and cut through the chatter. Angel recognized Britney, Christine, Nicole, the two blondes from the CSI shows, Mariah and one gothic type he could not place but was clearly outstandingly beautiful. The guys were obviously very accomplished at their dressing. They had taken their targets as templates for their appearance and had adapted them to their own features and flaws, creating not a clumsy attempt at an impersonation but a very effective and believable presentation. All were able to pass as women. All were able to pass as young teen age boys. All were extremely lethal. And all were giggling in character. Angel walked up to the gothic one with long black hair. "You've got me on this one. It's very good, but I don't know the reference." "It's Tarja, she sings for a Finnish metal band, mate" said the diminutive man in the long red coat, black boots with heels and very pale face. Angel assumed he had found the Aussie. "I like it, Mr. Olsen." The man smiled and flipped his hair back in a practiced manner. Angel painfully moved to the podium, grabbing the sides for support. "You all have arrived here, in those seats, in this room, at this time because you all have some things in common. "First- you are the victim of abuse. "Second- you are involved in law enforcement. "Third - you are known to be capable of applying deadly force. "Last- you are able to withstand a lot of humiliation in undercover work" Angel looked slowly at each of the seven, his gray eyes piercing their poker faces. "Oh, and it seems that some of us who do this work have the same proclivity in our expanded wardrobes." Angel said dryly. The tension broke and the group laughed in a distinctly unladylike manner. "You all know the Group targets predators, the ones who remove innocence, the ones who take joy in using people like us for their entertainment. The ones who create people like us. We work in the realm of justice and recovery, which occasionally departs from the boundaries of the law." An eerie coldness entered Angel's voice and infected the recruits like a virus. "For the next week, I will be sharing my case histories with you, in the hope that some of it might be useful as you lead operations either solo or as a team member. Because of your skills and ability to appear as prey to our target predators, you will frequently be working right in the middle of the action. I managed to stay lucky in that role for eight years, but I should not have to tell you how dangerous it can be every time." Angel picked up a remote control, dimmed the lights and started his slides on the room screen. "Girls, this was one of the more challenging ones...." Every eye in the room was drawn to the body of the small boy shown in large format. Every one of the agents renewed his motivation for their calling. ___________________________________________________________________ Chapter 2: High Roller Home Entertainment - Cyberspace and points in reality - June "Oh my, you're a big one, Matador: Member Class=Super Stud, SELECT=JOHNNIE TO JILL" scrolled across the wall size projection screen. The man known as the Matador looked out at the city lights of Sao Paolo as he pulled on the shiny black plastic sleeve, mindful of the cables connecting it to his USB port and the separate power supply. The sensuous woman's voice soothed him as he closed the Velcro seal around his anticipating member. He always loved hearing her personal touch and was happy he had purchased the most expensive service from TransTalent. Marge Foley, a grandmother of ten spoke into the microphone in her trademark voice, dripping with bedroom allure. She shifted her two hundred and fifty pounds, creating a cacophony of squeaks from her cheap office chair while she reviewed the account file of "Matador". Telephone customer service is often a difficult and low paying way to make a living. She was happy to find this job, which paid almost fifty percent more than other ones in the area. The customers were sleazy, but very cooperative. Matador's profile showed he liked to reserve 'private' sessions, where he alone issued the script commands. As an investor in the parent company he had the distinction of being one of the twenty people in the world with the new PleasureJac units. There was a notation he had taken a particular interest in one young boy but always preceded it with a session with a regular girl before his special time with "Johnnie". There was also a second notation that he had tried to deviate from the script on several occasions. Green status bars appeared under the Matador Icon on the control screen, indicating he was physically attached to the PleasureJac and ready for his fun. Marge switched him into the general session. Darla, the first girl in the rotation, appeared in a provocative pose on Matador's wall screen. The scripts in these sessions were straightforward and most clients dispensed with any verbal interaction. Darla began the rituals of admiring the PleasureJac unit in front of her. From the customer's point of view, the camera panned down on her face and the PleasureJac interface appeared where his own member would be if he were present in the room with her. Matador remained silent as Darla cooed and began to get serious. With every touch of her tongue on the unit in front of her kneeling body, Matador felt a corresponding pressure and moistness inside his device. As he expanded, so did Darla's unit. Time suspended until he achieved release. He opened his eyes and saw Darla's smiling face, her tongue licking the sides of her mouth. Matador touched the key sequence which signaled customer satisfaction. He was now ready for tonight's real entertainment, his evening with Johnnie. There, the full hour of precious inflicted humiliation and release would be his. ***************************************************************** Therapist Private Journal- George Romany MD: Patient: ANGEL-Excerpts >From Therapy Analysis I group these culmination points under titles of my own romantic whimsy. I have no recollection of their significance at the time- GR "Spring Is The Season of Recovery" We see Angel as a shadowy undercover operative, a cop of a State Agency , but also working for our shadowy organization called "The Group". He is expert at passing as a vulnerable teenager, although he is in his early 20s. When on certain missions to penetrate "forced fem" sadists operations, he kills without mercy. He is very much a hollow man, driven by revenge and desire to inflict pain on oppressors. The opposite of Stockholm syndrome. If you ever saw Exodus, the movie, the Sal Mineo character, the concentration camp survivor, reminds me of him. His history is his mother abused him, with a distinct leaning to feminization and sexual abuse, and then sold him to a Domme type woman who planned to make him a sex toy for sale. She used a cattle prod on him as part of the 'petticoat discipline', coupled with an unending stream of 'men are evil, vile creatures'. At age 12 he was rescued by a street cop, Bob Angelo, who turned him over to Frank and Samantha to raise outside the foster care system. Bob and Frank are the founding members of the Group, and this was their first rescue. All members of the group are related to law enforcement and are victims of abuse, usually feminization. Angel finds unconditional love in the Group. He regards Frank as his Father. (Frank is a committed crossdresser, as are about forty percent of Group members) "Winter is the Season of Endings" We now see Angel on an operation, taking out a Judge and Madam J, a woman so ridiculous yet vile she is a real life parody of extreme TG fiction. Angel is 25, and in his prime. He tries showing mercy for the first time as he sets up Madam J in her New England mansion for kidnap charges and lets the justice system have her committed. He is still a bit sociopathic when confronting oppressors. We also observe Angel as adopting roles in his life, male or female, and never caring about who he really is. He appears as either sex as required or on a whim. And given his size and build, is very effective. "Lamb And Lion" Angel in his late 20s. He defuses a classic "dominate the poor CD, take his money and have him raped" badger game. He has evolved his mentality to a search for redemption in his targets. He hopes they give up their villainy before he has to kill them. He seems to begin enjoying dressing as a woman, in fact, he resembles "Carrie" from "Sex and the City" rather much. He is leaning towards his softer side. At the end of this story, he meets his future wife by chance on the plane home. Angel is getting tired of hate and wants some peace, love and companionship, like Frank and Samantha, his adoptive parents had. Today He now has something to lose, people he loves, which is the kiss of death for a stone cold undercover operative who needs to do anything to achieve his goal. He needs to retire, but circumstances and the threat of many real and potential victims 'drags him back in' Who is Angel? Angel is a series of masks. One day he may find one that does not come off. Undercover people end up with variable identities, and occasionally end up with no core persona, just a series of masks. If you had lost your base personality, or hated it, and had the build and facial features to be whichever sex you would chose, the choice becomes fascinating. Why wouldn't you appear as a woman? It's so much more fun than putting on a male mask. Especially since the victims of sexual abuse occasionally are not very active sexually as compensation. They have lost the ability to trust. Imagine Carrie of the TV show Sex and City who is really male, can look female at will, is deadly with any weapon , skilled in martial arts, has no fear of humiliation, no compunction about causing pain or death, and believes in Justice as more important than the Law. He can only find relief from his own pain by rescuing others like himself in pain. He has no fear of his own death. He has a high moral code, and is uncompromising. A beautiful samurai who reveres his saviors. End Journal entry- GR ******************************************************************** ___________________________________________________________________ Chapter 3: The Love Of A Good Woman - Beach House, Malibu, California - June The surf crashed quietly on the beach, the sounds removed by the mural sized glass overlooking the Pacific. The house had belonged to Carolyn's family since the nineteen thirties, and looked very unprepossessing, almost ramshackle from the Pacific Coast Highway north of Santa Monica. The interior was thoroughly modern and was probably the fourth or fifth total tear down and rebuild. The value of real estate right on the beach this near Los Angeles tended to make the exterior appearance irrelevant. The kitchen was magnificent, one of the best Angel had seen. Simple yet well laid out, with top notch equipment, restaurant grade. Dinner preparations consumed his immediate attention, his tactical awareness was always on, scanning the room for any minute change, while his mind was roaming his life for the last year. Angel knew he had succumbed. He was in desperately in love. It scared him beyond words. He saw himself as a twelve year old boy again, enduring the pain. And the Face. Flashback - earlier that day The dinner celebrated Angel's recovery from the grenade blast that had almost killed him. The seminar for the Group, his first venture outside this house alone in six months had finished at noontime on Friday, to allow most of the agents to catch flights home. He planned to go shopping on his way home. Trevor Olsen, the Australian, came up beside him after class. "So a romantic dinner with your Sheila tonight, Angel?" asked the small agent, now dressed in sports jacket and jeans for his long flight home tonight, his black hair pulled back and clasped at his neck. At five feet tall, he made Angel feel like a giant. "I think I may be as much Sheila as she is tonight, Trevor. We are both celebrating in a way." Angel said with a sly smile. "In that case, mate, I have some time and you have all the facilities here, let me help." Trevor had grown up in a family of hairdressers, father, mother and four sisters and he had kept his skills current. Angel realized that no matter how he was dressed, he was going to the fish market and then home en femme. When Trevor pulled out the foot long rods, long, soft spiral curls fell past Angel's shoulders. Angel decided to add some light makeup and just gave in to the overall look. After dropping Trevor off at LAX, he pointed the black H2 north and headed back to Malibu. Standing in line at the fish market while Nguyen selected a fillet of Hawaiian Ono, he could feel the looks from the men in the crowd. Nguyen gave him a wide smile as he exchanged cash for the packaged fish. Angel shifted his responsive smile and adjusted his hand mannerisms to full girl mode. He wished he had his breast prostheses on, but knew he could carry it off without them. Ever since he was very young, people had viewed Angel and made assumptions about his gender, and were usually wrong. His painful history created a person quite flexible in what image he chose to present to the world. A quick stop at the jewelers came before he pulled the SUV into the garage of the beach house. Angel threw himself in preparing his appearance and the food for the perfect evening. Treating his new curls with extreme care, he washed and shaved his body. The red puckering in nine areas on his stomach and left side showed the remnants of his encounter with the explosive fragments, and the pain from twisting his torso offered constant evidence that the muscles were still knitting. The long convalescence had not managed to add more than a thin, soft layer of fat to his abdomen, not enough to increase his dress size. While he was applying the adhesive for his breasts, he thought back to his first encounter with Carolyn, over two years ago. Flashback - two years ago They had met on a plane to Denver, and Angel had been in his Carrie mood, looking like he had just stepped off the set of Sex And The City. Carolyn had been attracted to the brunette, which was unusual for her, since she preferred men. Angel had made an appearance at her condo a month later, in his best English tailored suit. After some incredulity and despite all her instincts, Carolyn let him in, thinking the story was insane. Looking at Angel, in his most handsome male persona, she could see the face and mostly the eyes were indeed the same as the ones she had asked to visit. The attraction she felt from their first meeting endured, and Carolyn partially opened herself to him. They dated warily at first, since neither wanted to reveal their lives completely, more from long habit than mistrust of the other. There were frequent absences. Angel's accumulated leave from the State Attorney's office expired and he had to return to California. Carolyn's law practice had many confidential clients and she made house calls. Carolyn was a committed fighter for women's issues, specifically focused on abuse and child support. Living off trust funds from her mother who had died before Carolyn finished law school, she was estranged from her remarried father, whose neglect she believed had led to her mother's death in a car accident. She had a step brother she had never seen. She was an orphan by choice. Carolyn was mystified by the dangerous man who appeared so confident, so distant as a male yet so vulnerable and attentive as a female. She sensed a reserve, a series of layers shielding him, yet also a desire to peel them away for her and only her. Carolyn knew Angel was a senior agent for the state, and was a trained police officer. She also knew he was an undercover specialist and frequently took extreme risks. He had not told her about his extra role for the Group, but planned to reveal it at the right time. Flashback - one year ago Carolyn met and was immediately adopted by Frank, Angel's father. Frank , his body weakened by his battle with a rare endocrine disorder, welcomed her with unconditional love. Carolyn, often ill at ease with father figures, found Frank's waist length hair, casual housedress and feminine curves quite a change from her expectations. Janice Peters, his doctor and companion explained the side effects of the therapy she had used to hold his disease at bay, as well as Frank's relationship with Angel. The two women had been on the lower deck which overlooked the Frank's beloved river, watching the windsurfer's sails colorfully moving across the water. Angel and Frank were inside the house making dinner, having banished the females from the kitchen. Janice poured a glass of wine for Carolyn and told her the story of Angel's years of abuse, his sale by his mother to a woman who specialized in sadistic feminization of young boys, his rescue by a policeman who asked Frank and his then still living wife Samantha to take him in. "He just told me he had a difficult childhood and did not know where his parents were." Carolyn said, tears running down her cheeks as she grasped Janice's outstretched hand. "Carolyn, they may look pretty and act like a woman at times, but underneath it all, Angel and Frank are men. They hold it together by not discussing the painful past, even with themselves. Angel knew I would fill you in and felt it was better this way. I have known him since he was twelve and he has never discussed this with anyone. Take it as a positive thing that he would even allow you to know, even if he cannot tell you himself." Janice said, her eyes following Carolyn's shifting expressions of horror and sadness. Present Angel's mind came back to the present. Carolyn was due home in two hours, and he wanted to have most of the dinner prepared. He put on his bra and padded panties, threw on a robe and went into the kitchen. Busying himself with the details of the meal, he attempted to avoid the overwhelming emotions which coursed through him. The menu of mesquite butter dripped grilled Hawaiian Ono, a firm and flavorful whitefish, thinly sliced zucchini and butternut squash with garlic and herbs, oven roasted, and garlic mashed potatoes with a cold gazpacho soup required some preparation so he could just grill, bake and heat when Carolyn came home. He selected a vintage Chassagne Montrachet for chilling. Satisfied all the food was ready, he began to get dressed. While he was doing his face for the evening, he smiled at Carolyn's ready acceptance of his dressing habits. It was so rare and precious, to be accepted unconditionally. He was forced to redo his eyes once the tears ended their flow. Carolyn worked with many organizations allied with her causes, and many of the players were antithetical to men, a few with some justification, many with none. For Carol to have attached herself to a traditional boyfriend would have resulted in strains in those key relationships, which she felt would have prevented her from helping those in need. It had caused her to avoid getting close to several men in the past. She found herself attracted to Angel in any persona, easing the way for him to create the subtle pretense that she was dating a woman. The sheer delight in her expression when the rumor spread that she was a lesbian, especially since her father despised the idea, was enough incentive for Angel to embrace the role. He blinked and his mind switched back again. Dinner. Getting Dressed. A loose fitting slip slid over his scars. Garter belt and stockings. He grinned as he found his black cocktail dress still fit. Sandals with heels. He surveyed the effect in the mirror and was pleased. Dressing for another was a new experience. He could not categorize the feeling that followed the thought, it was new and of strange composition. Opening one of the cases from the jeweler, he winced in pain as he reached behind his neck to fasten the pearl necklace. He inserted the matching earrings and applied a musky scent. As he held up the three unopened jeweler's boxes, he roamed back to his last mission. Flashback - six months ago It was a State mission, but the Group was interested. There was a sting going down at a crossroads just across from the Mexican border. People were smuggling hookers into Mexico, or rather selling them to people running empty trucks back from bringing illegals into the US. The tip indicated that the cargo was a mixture of a few women and several young boys. He was supposed to observe the Feds take the truck down. Just as the ten federal agents were approaching on the van, another truck came up and began firing at them. A grenade was thrown at the observer position. Angel pushed the other agent to safety, taking the blast himself, only partially shielded by a car door. He saw the van carrying the human cargo explode before he lost consciousness. Rescue was slow and his gut was lacerated by fragments from the grenade and the car door. He spent months undergoing several surgeries. Janice and Frank had come down and taken over his care, along with Bob, George and other Group members. Spider Robertson, who ran rackets on the waterfront in several coastal towns, and his sister Clementine, sat vigils along with many other friends. Carolyn surprised herself by literally shutting down her practice and turning it over to colleagues. She moved to her family home in Malibu and never left Angel's side. A line of demarcation, one of reserved intimacy was abandoned, defenses scattered. Surrender to her feelings for him was unconditional. Angel had proposed from his hospital bed after his last surgery looked to be successful, using a ring he had Spider acquire for him. His mind was crystal clear from the brush with death, and he reacted to it by grasping for her. Carolyn held him so tightly he had several stitches pop, but he never felt it. She had said yes. The Malibu beach house became his new quarters with Carolyn nursing him, relieved by any number of Angel's friends. They agreed to postpone the wedding plans until Angel was back on his feet. Mending came slowly but still Angel gradually took over the care of the house while urging Carolyn back to work He took comfort in the simple pleasures of supporting her life, keeping her house, bringing her joy. Carolyn enjoyed the pampering and attention. She still felt the reserve, the hidden person was yet to be revealed, but love flowed through the layers. He knew he had been postponing a painful decision. Bob Angelo's asking him to run the seminar had triggered Angel's choice. Five days of dredging through his case histories with the new agents had clinched the call. He was done with field work. The ledger was balanced and for the first time in his life he believed he could move beyond the pain and revenge. Present Once more, Angel snapped back to the present as he heard the garage door opening. He checked his appearance and poured a glass of the Chassagne Montrachet. The kitchen door from the garage opened and Carolyn breezed in. "Angel! My God! You look great!" Carolyn dropped her briefcase, took the offered wineglass and set it down, grabbing Angel gently into her arms and kissing him fully and deeply. She was normally an inch taller than Angel, but his heels evened up the height difference. "I love your hair! It's been so long since I saw you this way!" Carolyn was attempting not to hurt her lover by squeezing him too tightly. Angel backed up, absentmindedly arranging his long spiral curls. "I love those pearls babe. Are they new?" Carolyn's eye honed in to the necklace and then the earrings. Angel smiled and handed Carolyn two jeweler's gift boxes. He sat Carolyn down as she opened the matching necklace and earring set. Taking the necklace, he kissed her just below her ear, his warm tongue meeting her skin softly, rhythmically. After time began to flow once more, he slowly drew the string of milky white orbs around her, bringing the apex to it's perfect resting place just above her slowly rising cleavage. "I have a dinner to prepare, my dear lady. Please come back in twenty minutes." Angel stood back from the entranced Carolyn, who appeared to have partially melted in her chair. The Ono was superb, flaky and delicate, and garlic mashed potatoes were Carolyn's favorite. Angel had removed his apron and sat watching the woman he loved enjoy his food. The relationship forced learning on him, the sharing of small pleasures, the joy of giving, that not all sacrifices need be done with blood. After nibbling at his food, he waited for Carolyn to finish. He placed the last wrapped jeweler's box on the table in front of her. Angel's eyes were uncharacteristically full of tears, and had lost their penetrating gaze. Carolyn had never seen him trembling before. The sight of fierce emotional control fighting a losing battle in the person she loved was physically painful. Angel finally gave in to sobbing, cradling himself with his own arms. He did not resist Carolyn's rush from her chair and embrace. The two became one, emotions diffusing between them, strength and comfort joining together. Some time later, sitting on the couch, staring at the black surf crashing on the gray beach, Angel spoke. "I have to tell you things about myself, Carolyn. And I am afraid I will lose you. I have never felt fear like this before." Carolyn shook and looked at Angel carefully. "Angel, Janice told me..." Angel shook his head and Carolyn became quiet. "Janice told you the truth, but not everything. I'm going to tell you something that puts a lot of people at risk. You need to know it. If you still want me after you hear this, I will be happy to present you this ring all over again. " Angel explained the Group, and his role in it. He explained his use of deadly force, his going beyond the law and why he did it. Carolyn's face shaded ashen as he described the victims he had rescued and the ones he had failed to help in time. "Angel, you have done things I've wanted to do with the scum who hurt my women. Give me the damn ring you fool! Did you think I would possibly think less of you for saving those kids? Yes I still want to marry you, now more than ever." Carolyn began slowly disrobing Angel while he looked into her eyes with relief mixed with equal parts of sadness and passion. He held her face and kneaded the tension from her neck with the touch of his fingertips. He began to work his hands into her very short hair's gentle little curls while cooperating one arm at a time in her slow removal of his cocktail dress. Much later Angel was holding the sleeping Carolyn. For the first time in his life he felt the pain of his past recede to a state of memory without feeling. He was overcome by the simple fact that he now had something to keep, to hold. "Thank you" came from his mouth, barely audible. Carolyn shifted in her sleep, a smile on her lips. ___________________________________________________________________ Chapter 4: Boy In The Iron Bra - Location Unknown - June The room was oddly furnished, all soft cushions and wall coverings. There was no furniture other than pillows of differing degrees of firmness. The television screen was in a corner and a speaker grill was embedded in the wall. Magazines lay scattered in the corner. The door to the bathroom remained locked unless he asked permission in a particular way, which seemed to change randomly. He had no control over the images on the screen or the audio. He knew he was being watched. He sat cross legged in a yoga position, eyes closed to the barrage of pornographic visuals and sounds of animal pleasure. Johnnie Tunturo retreated into his imaginary sanctuary, the memory of his summer at his family's house on Chincoteague Island, Virginia. He estimated he had been here for three months, but had no way of telling. They had subjected him to drugs and varying day and night cycles to disorient him as soon as he was captured. That was the easy part, when they were breaking him. Precocious, brilliant and fifteen years old, Johnnie cursed the day he had entered the transgendered chat room. His boarding school environment had isolated him socially, causing him to explore the on line world. The stories had been interesting, at least the ones which were not written just for the sake of masturbation. He had met many people on line who were friendly and some even sent him stories to review. Trojan horses. Those files, once safely past his firewall, had one purpose. Find out who and where he resided from the data on his computer and send it out through the chat software. Johnnie fled from the world he was in. The world where he was now addicted to morphine or heroin or some kind of derivative. The world where he was being fed a significant dosage of female hormones, enough so he now had breasts and hips and frequent bouts of tears and emotional swings. The world where all he ever saw was his face electronically overlaid on women in porno movies which showed almost non stop in his room. A world where he was an expert in giving performances of being humiliated by feminization. A world where he sucked a cock-like appliance, the PleasureJac, on demand, just to get his supply of narcotics when the 'customer' ejaculated on their end of the electronic linkage. Johnnie retreated and turned himself over to Jill. Jill was his protector, his savior. He took over and sucked, squealed, whined and begged through all the performances required of him. Jill had begun to emerge during the early days, his days of deepest depression, when he realized there was no escape. Jill loved being feminized. Jill loved the new breasts and was ecstatic when they gave him implants for a D cup. He loved the drugs the PleasureJac delivered, and the release and numbness they brought. Jill especially loved the 'humiliation sessions'. It was like being on stage. He had lines, the girl who commanded him had lines, all displayed on disguised teleprompters the netcams could not see. Each session was a script, with menu options. He was always the poor boy, being feminized against his will. The girls were captives, or just willing participants who assumed this was just another porn operation. Johnnie, before he had just ceded the process to his alter ego, recognized the scripts and even the writing style of the several sessions. He had read the stories on the site. The dialogue was awful and quite repetitive. And the scenes all had a terrible sameness to them. Whether it was petticoats or girdles, tittering over his new 'boobies', telling him what a great little cocksucker he would be, making him wear ridiculous wigs, it was all the same. He whined and cried and always ended up giving oral gratification to someone on the other side of the network linked PleasureJac. Johnnie, as he sat in his mental refuge, working on problems in analytical geometry, writing poetry, and other things he could do without touching the real world, sat and stared at the memory of the Atlantic Ocean beyond the inlet which his imaginary refuge viewed. He had a list of names of TG fiction authors, and people who ran sites and people in chat rooms. If he ever got out, he would find them. And they would know his name and it would be their last new thought. His captors had been quite open with him once they determined he was 'broken' sufficiently. He was a performer. The better he did, the more he would avoid punishment. They did not care if he liked it or not, just how well the audience loved him. If he attracted and kept a following, he would get fed and his dosage of narcotics would be maintained. All communication was through a disembodied voice. They had him perform for three or four hours a day and just ignored him the rest of the time. He was required to exercise on a treadmill, he was fed. He never saw a male image the entire time. The only people he saw were the girls who performed with him, and then only when they opened his cell and took him to the 'studio'. Johnnie knew the hormones would thoroughly feminize him past the point of being a good 'humiliation' victim. Then he would be an inadequate girl, and there were plenty of real girls available for that kind of 'show'. His career here had definite limits. Marla came through the door. "Jillie! We have a show in fifteen minutes! You want a ciggie?" Marla asked. She was somewhat plain, but dressed provocatively and heavily made up. Her black hair fell to her waist. Johnnie receded almost completely. Jill opened his eyes and smiled at Marla. "Thank God! Gimme one now or I'll have fit!" Jill smiled and rose. Marla handed him the starting wardrobe for the evening's performance. Jill was only allowed a bra and panties in his cell. Lighting up the Marlboro, Jill asked "What's the plot tonight? Cheerleader masquerade again?" "Substitute Prom Queen. The gown is gorgeous. I get to be the doting mother. We have three shows, all sold out. You are one of the most popular recurring attractions on the circuit, I'm told." Marla exhaled, emitting a cloud of bluish smoke. "You got the shakes yet, sweetie?" Marla asked, surveying Jill. She knew how the drug worked from personal experience. "No. But I can feel them coming. By the end of the first show I'll be sucking that Jac for all I can. I guess that's what they want." Jill answered, neutral to the situation. He just didn't care. Johnnie was safe inside his head. "The owner told me to tell you something. She thinks you are enjoying it too much. She wants you to be more humiliated. That's what she's selling." Marla said, a pleading look in her eyes. "All this to make me a good little cocksucker and she wants me to feel humiliation. All I can feel is the dope. And that's all I care about. Ok, I'll do more whining. How convincing can it be with these fucking hooters they gave me?" Jill said wearily. Marla led him out to the studio area. The show would begin soon. ___________________________________________________________________ Chapter 5: Wedding Belle Blues - Malibu, California - June "Splendid!" was a trademark, a sign, a claiming essence that she left drilled into anybody's forebrain who had encountered her. The platinum blonde hair did not merely fall to her mid back, it flowed in waves, caressing the hot pink suit which in turn gave clear display to her pronounced curves. When she entered a room, her presence demanded recognition. Her five foot height was of no consequence in her natural ability to be the center of attention. The click of her heels, the movements of her skirted hips, the thrust of her breasts were a sideshow to her vocal dominance of whatever area she chose to inhabit. "This is Splendid! Simply Splendid! This place is going to be very Splendid!" Miss T, who Angel knew as Tommie and everyone else knew as her Ladyship Maria Teresa Tomasina Windsor-Hockney insisted everyone call her Tess or Miss T in her professional capacity. She glided up to Angel and Carolyn inside the chapel of the prestigious university. The view of the ocean and green grass covered cliffs contained no roads, cars or buildings, just a large stylized cross. "Tommie! I'm so glad you're here!" Angel rushed up to the pink package of energy and picked her up, letting her legs dangle off the floor. She responded by throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him on the lips. "I wouldn't miss your wedding if I had to crawl through broken glass, Angel. And to be your wedding planner is Splendid! Now introduce me to your lady, you doofus." Miss T lit a 3000 watt smile as Angel gently set her down. Carolyn was conscious of towering over the diminutive impish woman. After introductions Miss T shooed Angel away and took Carolyn outside. "Call me Tess, Carolyn, or I'll get very upset. The Miss T thing is for the tabloids and the gossip sections. I am going to tell you all about me because I know the big lug you're marrying wouldn't say an extra word if you were pulling his hair out." Miss T held Carolyn's hand as they sat on the outdoor bench, a clear windless sky with just a few puffy white clouds far away setting the scene. "Now I know all about you from when 'Gel called me out of the blue the other night. So let me even things up. He calls me Tommie because that's was my name when I was a boy. We were both the property of that viscous bitch when we were kids. Bob Angelo got us both out of there, but I was too injured from her 'persuasion' methods. Cattle prods do nasty things to tender parts. So I've been a girl since then. "The rest you know about if you read the trashier papers, Lord Herman, who was so fascinated with me being transsexual, he became one himself, made our marriage a bit awkward, since there couldn't be two Lady Windsor-Hockneys in the same place. Now the tabs never did find out about my little conversion, so they focused all of their shots at poor Hermoine, the dear. She gained so much weight from the stress, it's a shame. "So here I am, and I have my happy new life and boyfriend and I can't believe you let the groom pick a wedding planner! So, between us girls, I will understand completely if you want to use someone you know. I'm only here because I love that man of yours more than I can say. He saved my life when things were very dark." Fire hoses could learn from Miss T's normal volume of word flow. Carolyn blinked several times and found it impossible to dislike this pink bundle of motion. "Tess, it would be wonderful to have your help. I have no family and only a few friends to come, and I think Angel is in the same position. So we were thinking of a small ceremony and reception." Carolyn smiled widely and clasped both of Tess's hands. "I have been having visions of that lovely man in a wedding gown since he called, I must admit. Have you considered dual ceremonies? Maybe at the party after the main rehearsal? I'll buy him one just for my own fun." Miss T said. Carolyn laughed. "I've been having the same thought. I know Angel assumes we will do a traditional ceremony, but I did make him grow out his hair just in case I could twist his arm on this. This is great! I get my big day and still get to see him as a blushing bride a few days before. I'll even slick back my hair and wear a tuxedo for that." "But a tuxedo with a skirt, if I know Angel. He will want to see those legs, dear. Have you discussed who's what when in terms of bride, groom, vows and things dear?" Miss T asked with a coy look on her face. "He loves the idea of marriage, but struggles with what it means to him. I asked him about vows and he looked at me with a puzzled face as if it had never occurred to him. When I showed him some bridal gowns, I knew he was looking at them for himself, mentally trying them on, just like I was. I love the man but he is maddening." Carolyn shocks herself at sharing this concern. "That's 'Gel. He carries a lot of pain and hides it from himself. When we were together as captives, he took so much pain for me and just stuck it inside, it must be buried in there still. "You've got a treasure there, Carolyn, but he's like one of those Russian dolls, the ones that nest inside each other? He cannot open to you because he has lost himself I think. And a vow requires he either find it or pick one of his faces to make that vow. But he's worth it!" Miss T exclaimed. "You must meet my boyfriend Turk, he runs a restaurant and catering service. We'll have you two over for dinner." Tess said. Carolyn and Tess spent the afternoon chattering away about the wedding, life, love and men. Angel looked on and smiled. ___________________________________________________________________ Chapter 6: River Deep Mountain High - Northern California, Somewhere in the High Sierras - June The cool air blew across the pine needle covering in front of the lodge. The air in the high Sierras had a clean, dry flavor. Lady Jean Thomas loved afternoons like this one. Steve Dunbar walked alongside, his huge mass dwarfing the Mistress of the Lodge. His tattoos were plainly visible on his thick forearms sticking out from his black tee shirt. "It is not coincidence Jean. I don't believe we can miss pickups for three girls in the last two months. Someone knew we were coming and got to them first." Steve rumbled quietly. He had acquired the utmost respect for and loyalty to Lady Jean Thomas in the last five years. The former biker, gang member, ex con, and oil rigger had settled into her employ as head of 'Security Services" since Jean had sheltered his children when they were in danger. Since then, he had aided her in her mission of providing shelter for abuse victims, usually young girls who had nowhere else to go. Lady Jean used her wealth to run a series of shelters, but the 'extreme cases' she kept at her home in the remote Sierra Nevada Mountains. Now, there were three girls in residence, two with small children. "Could their parents or husbands have taken them away?" Jean asked, holding her sweater against the chill which had entered the breeze. "Let's just say we had a spirited discussion with them. And , yes they are intact, mostly. My best read is that they had nothing to do with the girls' disappearance. " "Do you have anything to go on?" "We have a neighbor who said she saw a Cable TV truck just sitting around the house the day before and the day of the disappearance, I have some friends checking it out. I know the parents have not notified the police she is missing. That's it for now." Steve said, a determined tone threading through his voice. Lady Jean looked up at the deck and saw a young woman playing with a pair of toddlers. Her long black hair fluttered in the breeze, and Jean could see the smile on her face from quite a distance. "I see Carol is doing the day care shift again. She always changes the rotation so she gets to play with the children." Jean laughed pleasantly. Steve smiled. Carol was his daughter, now the senior staffer running the lodge. A very accomplished eighteen year old. His son Toby was seven now, and attended Flora's Fundamental School two hours away down the mountain in Filler. He stayed with a couple there when Carol or Steve could not break away to bring him back to the lodge. The whole little town adopted him on those nights when he stayed over, and Terri and Joelle had become his favorite Aunts. It had been a good five years for the Dunbar family. "Steve, I am going to attend a wedding down in Malibu in two months. A good friend has found a most amazing young man. She has done a lot of legal work for our organization in the past. I will be gone for four or five days." Lady Jean announced. "Then I am coming with you. Something is funny and I want you covered. I'll leave Pablo in charge here." Steve announced back. Jean Thomas knew she would not win this argument, and really did not want to. Steve was good company and she had made her share of enemies. "Meanwhile, there are no 'extreme cases' on the horizon for now, and I am comfortable that Pablo is quite capable to keep the shelters secure and react to any problems that come up. And this place is more secure than ever, especially since we got those SAMs." Steve continued. Jean looked at the rocks and could still see the remnants of bullet impacts from a gun battle five years ago. They had also used helicopters that day and she always learned from her mistakes. There would be no undefended aerial assault again. She also knew that there were at least four very formidable security men somewhere around the lodge, rotating from their assignments guarding her shelters and providing escort to her charges. She had made quite certain that every man in her employ was a father or a brother of a girl, and exuded a natural protectiveness. It was just one last thing to make sure they understood her mission. Steve had heartily concurred. "Steve, find those girls. I don't care how much you have to spend to track them down. I have a very bad feeling about this." Jean said as Steve ushered her inside. ___________________________________________________________________ Chapter 7: Bored Room Meeting - Promisense Headquarters, Lake Tahoe, Nevada - June If you have never worked in a major corporation there is no effective way to describe the feeling of the major executive review. Imagine huge bundles of ego and insecurity, driven by power and winning all gathered in a place where the rules are boredom, sameness, predictability and ritual. All gains or losses can only come by clever and subtle reaction, never overt action. No decisions will be made, they are either already made and merely being revealed or are to be formally declared deferred. Briefings contain no new information, they merely serve to condemn everyone to mutual knowledge, so that when things go wrong, all are equally culpable, hence no one is culpable. The greatest faux pas, the biggest indiscretion is to surprise. It has been done, but is a risky gambit. To deviate from the Agenda is to move the group to uncharted territory, where career moves and gaming the outcomes have not been carefully plotted. Springing a surprise immediately makes the springer the active enemy of the entire room. Adrenaline flows, glances fly to search for allies, papers get shuffled. Adrian Beimbeau had just performed a coup. The surprise which was not a surprise. Ord Stonewell, the CEO of Promisense had agreed privately to his breach of etiquette by bringing his report to the meeting. Adrian assumed Stonewell wanted to send a signal to the others that change was imminent. Change in personal power, the only currency which mattered. Adrian had just told them their entire foundation was in peril. It was not in peril from the competition. It was not in peril from the police or the courts or even the government. Promisense was in the entertainment business. Headquartered in Lake Tahoe, Nevada, Ord Stonewell had built an empire based upon quality adult entertainment. Magazines, movies, internet sites and legal prostitution. Stonewell and his company had withstood several federal and state attempts to prove linkages with illegal activity, which he had survived by taking extreme care to keep Promisense firmly in the gray zone of the law, right up to the edge but never over it. He also made sure no one climbed the corporate ladder without leaving a trail of incriminating evidence he alone possessed. Ord's favorite movie was the Godfather. "It's not personal, just business" was the operative mantra. All of the executives at the table were unmistakably normal people. They coached sports teams for their children, they ran scout troops, were active in the PTA and the Red Cross. Normal suburban dads and moms. Most were experienced at business operations and were heavily credentialed with MBAs, MS in Finance, consulting pedigrees and solid resumes. Promisense was a business like any other business, with multiple markets, channels of distribution, product development and financing issues. They did not view themselves as evil, just delivering a product to meet demand. A legal product. Of course, the laws in some countries were somewhat fluid, which was convenient. They all knew about crossing into the gray area. All the executives were normal, except Adrian. Ord Stonewell had seen something in him, something he found close to himself. Adrian loved the business, he loved the process, the excitement and he hated the gray line between legal and illegal. Adrian had been assigned to 'special projects' last year and the others had assumed he had fallen from favor. His sudden appearance electrified the room. His presentation was staggering. "Ladies and Gentlemen. The early results of Project FutureCon are quite promising. They show that revenues for most of your divisions will be substantially reduced, or rather subsumed into the new market space created by PleasureJac and it's offspring." Adrian drew energy from the palpable fear and loathing emanating from the seven other Senior Vice Presidents. The Chief Financial Officer looked as if she had swallowed a lemon flavored sponge. Ord Stonewell had an enigmatic and humorless expression on his face. "The technology is quite simple and yet only very recent advances in bioelectronics and emerging nanotechnology embedded in modern polymers has truly enabled us to create a viable alternative to the vaginal environment. The PleasureJac works under the control of local software on a moderately powered home computer, and we are close to a model which requires little tech support and sustains an acceptable operational life between failures. It does require a broadband internet connection for the master unit at the entertainment node to drive the action at the customer's home." "And before you can ask, Cynthia, yes, the women's model is under development. It seems the female focus groups are much 'pickier' about how it performs. We have gone to eliminating the male at the master control entirely and are using pure computer control for the best effect. The male is out of the control loop and serves as eye candy only. It allows us to select performers on looks alone, not performance. We are about six months away from getting the perfect sequence, my test team tells me. Of course, I should examine their incentive scheme; they may be having too much fun in development." Adrian paused, allowing the audience to laugh at the joke. "We are building a world where a man can go to a prostitute on line, get a blowjob and eventually with the next generation, have intercourse, all in the privacy of his home or office, and all he has to do is dispose of the plastic insert to his PleasureJac unit. No AIDS, no SARS, no clap, no catching a cold. No cops. No pimps. No missing wallet. He can even record the file and replay it. And she or he will do what he wants, as long as he stays within the script. If he wants a Brazilian girl with a mustache, I'm sure somebody will have a site which will deliver her." "My God, Beimbeau, how do we control this?" one of the VP's asked, sweat beads on his upper lip. Adrian smiled. Ord Stonewell's face let out a small grin. "We don't, Steadwell. We may have gotten there first, but it is inevitable. We intend to ride the wave. "First, we will manufacture. We have a site which is remote and unknown. The PleasureJac units will arrive into local markets from a dozen overseas locations, all of them dummy distributors. Some governments will try to ban them, or worse, tax them. By having the product lead, we can define the release cycle. And stay ahead of the inevitable imitators. "Second, the traditional male-female prostitution business will become a commodity, Blowjobs online will be subject to everybody setting up a site and cutting the price. Some will even offer it for free to hype other services. Our version will take on a McDonald's model, consistency in a commodity market. But margins will be under a lot of pressure. "Third, there will be substantial revenue in selling fantasies. Using the technology in role play and more complex entertainments. We've know for years a woman in fishnet hose sells more than a naked woman. That will be our home. The provider of locally legal, pay-for-play internet fantasies. And obviously, we will leave the legal exposure, if any, to our franchises, who we merely help set up but have no operational control over. We will have no ownership or get any revenues. They will merely pay off loans which we arrange to start them up and buy our equipment. So if they get into trouble, we are merely a supplier, like the company that sells them paper clips. "Fourth, we need to re-position our current brothels to emphasize the 'live' nature of the product, for the inevitable 'natural' backlash that some of the public will have. Of course, we will be happy to sell them a recording of their experience for their home machines. "The progress summary key points: "We have the manufacturing pilot plant established in the Australian Northern Territories, with supply chains to Europe, South America, Pacific Rim and of course, North America. "The franchisee training facility is an island in the Coral Sea with power and comm cables laid into Queensland. "Twenty 'early investors' have PleasureJac beta units installed. They are pioneering our premium services. "We have ten franchises operating for 'special fantasies'. Several consultants, writers of bondage and sadism, transgender fantasy and various role play fiction are on retainer to provide menu driven scripts. "We have a recruiting process underway using chat rooms to find both talent as well as solicit for customers. We feed the prospects to our franchisees through anonymous sources. "The pipeline for disposing of 'spoiled talent' to the traditional brothel trade cross borders is being established. "The PleasureJac division will be moving to full operation within three months. I suggest you all begin revising your business plans for the inevitable negative impacts." The murmuring was muted but seemed to linger on for a long time. ___________________________________________________________________ Chapter 8: The Strange Case of Impolecs - Junecellular Inc, Pleasanton, California - June Blonde hair is a California curse for a professional woman. Marissa Dupre was holder of two doctorates, microbiology and chemistry, and held several patents with her business partner, John Carter, in the field of bioelectronics and nanotechnology. As the co-founder of Junecellular, Inc. she could review any transaction or contract she wished. Despite all her credentials, her power and position, her appearance often set the tone every time she met a new person, male or female. Marissa at forty four was a widow, a wonderful mother of a fifteen year old boy, a lousy cook and an absolute knockout, with dimensions approaching a life size Barbie Doll. Despite her conservative fitted suits, her image was hard for anyone to get past. The man from the customer procurement department was clearly flustered. Normally, a customer visit meant he asked the questions, and he was taken to dinner treated like royalty. Today, he felt he was on the wrong end of the questions. He also was having trouble looking Marissa in the face since his eyes naturally wandered to points south of that. "Mr. Clymer, we agreed to produce a handful of complex nano-driven polymers which simulated artificial tissue for you. When the project was undertaken, we were led to believe these would be part of tissue replacement research, yet your organization seems to have not answered any of our requests for information of where or when this research is taking place." Marissa said calmly. She watched the sweat beads form on the upper lip of