The Suit-Part 2 free porn video

THE SUIT: Part 2 By LJ "So," Ellie panted as she heaved, and two hundred pounds came off the bar of the weight bench with surprising ease as she began to lift the weight in rapid reps. "Thomas A. Simmons, a low-level programmer for the local 911 service corps takes a call from his own wife, who is being attacked. "Only the response is too late to save her, or his teenage daughter, so the guy snaps, and starts a killing spree of his own to vent his own rage and frustration. "He'll end in a psych ward for sure. "Then I suppose one of your now patented behavior modules will have him back in public service in a few months?" she asked as she hit his fiftieth rep before she put the bar with the heavy weights back in place without a spotter. "More than likely," Sara agreed as Ellie rose to wipe her face with the offered towel while she logged her progress. "While he did perform criminal acts, he did so while caught deeply up in a psychotic break that kept his normal life completely separate, and actually unaware of what he was doing. The behavioral therapy will help him, but it'll take a lot longer to heal his internal injuries even with regenerative surgeries. "According to my estimates, your foot hit him with over five hundred pounds of pressure per square inch. He's lucky he survived long enough for the paramedics to get him on life support." "I still don't understand this crap," Ellie frowned at the scientist who remained prim as ever as she oversaw her exercise session. "I mean, I can see how the short you told me about might have messed up the operating systems in this outfit, but how did I do.....what I did?" "I honestly don't know. Your unconscious control of the nannite's programs shouldn't have allowed you to boost your own natural strength like that. You certainly shouldn't have been able to almost put your foot through that man's chest. "Even if he did deserve it," she added grimly. "Shame, doctor," Ellie grinned. "I thought you were one of those professional women that accepted some men just are not responsible for their actions." "You've confused me with someone else," she glowered. "Besides the fact, it's hard to be professional, or objective, when my niece is still comatose, and relying on life support just to keep her alive." "I can understand," she said grimly as the doctor continued to study the master remote. "I'm surprised you are so understanding. "Especially when this...mishap may have stuck you in this prototype bodysuit for life." "Well, crying about it won't do any good. Besides, oddly enough, while I rationally know that I should be upset, something else keeps me feeling this is....I don't know the word. It just feels....like I should accept what is inevitable anyway." "So you've said at your last psych evaluation. Which is why you are still in my care. Your captain felt you might be in denial, or something of that nature." "Yeah, like I'm supposed to trust his expertise in psychology. And your opinion, doctor," Ellie asked as she stood up, rolled her shoulders, stretching her surprisingly toned, and sweating body as she padded barefoot over to the treadmill. "First off, I'd say you're in amazing condition, mentally, and physically, considering what you went through that night. And I am not just referring to your traumatic experience with Mr. Simmons. "The surge that reprogrammed the nannites still operating inside you have by now dumped a lot of neural-links, and redundant wetware directly into your own mind and body. I still haven't figured out half of what it's doing to you, but I can tell you that so far it's vastly exceeding any of my original design specs, or theoretical applications." "You guys aren't planning on dissecting me for it's secrets, are you," she shuddered suddenly as she looked up from programming the treadmill. "Of course not," Sara laughed a little nervously as she came over to see what Ellie had set for herself on the treadmill before logging it in the portable file she was carrying. "Do you always push yourself like this," she asked the paradoxical creature before her as she read the reading called for a five mile run at ten miles per hour. "Always. And actually, I've cut back since I'm technically in a smaller, less familiar body. Although, even I was surprised at how well I handled that weight just then," she said as she began to run faster and faster as the machine warmed up. "I was strong before, but never that strong. And my endurance seems....I don't know....amped." "And you run barefoot?" "It's better for the arches. Read that somewhere," she grinned as she started panting as she brought her arms up and close to her sides as she ran in perfect form as the treadmill reached its programmed max speed. "And you've had no additional episodes of uncontrollable, ah, desire?" "C'mon, doc," she grinned. "You've had me wired for two weeks now. You know more about that than I do. "And frankly, it's starting to bug me, if you know what I mean?" "I can imagine," she smiled. "Still, I doubt you really want to experience a...ah, relapse." "I'm just glad those apes didn't sell copies of that surveillance tape. Though I have to admit, I'm still waiting for copies to surface." "I doubt your captain, or the lawyers would allow that. It is still part of the evidence in Simmons's trial." "Right," she panted. "All seven hours of it. I still can't believe I went crazy like that. The first time I watched that tape I would have thought I had been slipped X3 if you hadn't already told me what had happened." "I doubt even that party drug of choice would have kept you going for so long, sergeant," she told her. "Just plain Ellie Sands just now, doc. You heard the board. Until, and/or if you clear me, I'm just a little girl now. "Well, maybe not so little," she mugged as she slowed as the machine slowed, and hefted her taut breasts that had swelled that bizarre night even as she came to a stop on the treadmill. "Thank God for athletic support advances, huh?" "I've never been much of an athlete, Ellie," she chose the more informal address again. "So, how am I doing?" "How are you doing? You've done what even a strong man would have considered a two hour workout in less than twenty minutes, and your breathing is virtually normal, your pulse, and all your vitals show you've barely even strained yourself, and if I had to guess, you could in all probability give a few professional athletes some serious competition just now." "Really," she grinned. "I guess I could always try out for the Olympics," she grinned insolently. "Considering how they frown on drugs, narcos, or cybernetic enhancements, I doubt you would get past them if they knew you were a nano-enhanced biological organism." "A....what," Ellie frowned. "It's my theory. My only one at this point. Recall I said the linking nannites somehow infused you with the base programming? I think they also gave you an innate ability to alter, or amplify certain biological functions within their purview. "As strength. You mentioned only thinking of breaking free back in the apartment that night, and the nannites responded by boosting your strength rather phenomenally. If I'm right, and I've seen little to disprove me these past few weeks, then you may be able to affect superficial, or even physiological changes just by....willing them." "Then....couldn't I will myself to be male again?" "Unfortunately, I'm not sure that's possible. You may not have noticed it, but you're becoming more and more genuinely female. Not just feminine, but female. And it's progressing exponentially with each day. Which most definitely exceeds all our theoretical parameters, and leaves us guessing from square one. "Our last exam scan indicated your testes have already receded, and have been regenerated into true ovaries that are pumping out a great deal of estrogen into your system just now. That likely accounts for some of your....relaxed feelings as your body literally synchs up with the behavior mods already downloaded into your brain. "Along with that, your vaginal sheath is definitely open, and you now have a rudimentary womb forming behind your cervix." "But....my dick," Ellie asked blushing at the use of the word. "To be blunt, any superfluous organic matter caught in the suit's matrix would be converted by the nannites into mass, or energy needed for the conversion of the suit into a genuine epidermis. I suspect you haven't noticed because your marathon sex play that night had your mind all but shut down as your sex drive completely took over. "Frankly, if you had had your womb and ovaries then, theoretically, you'd probably already be pregnant by now." "Wonderful," she groaned. "So, I'm definitely not a James any longer, am I?" "I thought you weren't that upset over that fact," She asked as Ellie wiped sweat from her brow again, and headed for the showers. "That's just it. I'm not. Actually, I think I'm upset that I'm not more upset that I'm.....a woman. Does that make any sense?" "Perfectly. Which is why I refused to let them reprogram your mind the way they wanted when all this first came out at the close of your investigation, and subsequent inquest." "Wh-What," Ellie asked, turning to stare back at her as the water poured over her body as she gave herself a moment to enjoy the feel of the fluid warmth. "Wait one damn minute," she growled. "What does that mean?" "I'm not supposed to say anything, but the company director is putting a lot of pressure on us to use the new mods to reprogram your mind so that....so that you don't remember any of your past. "I'm not sure if he's worried about security, law suits, or what. I only know he wants you neutralized until you can be studied more extensively. "His word." "Remind that asshole that I'm still a cop on the city payroll, and cops just don't vanish." "I know, Ellie. The thing is, in the eyes of the world you aren't a nine year vet any longer. Not superficially, and that is still how the real world works. "You know it, and I know it." "Yeah," she sighed as she turned off the water. "I take it I'm not supposed to be hearing this little tidbit though?" "No. I'm risking my own job telling you this, but....I just don't trust the director on this. He's been known to 'rehab' certain women as strippers and escorts for the social clubs if they piss him off, to be blunt. Lately, I've been upsetting him a lot. The only reason I'm not a complete bimbo doing lap dances, or working in some social club, is because I also have a lot of important connections, and I represent a small fortune from a few of my own patents that he doesn't want to lose. "Not to mention most of my research is....." Ellie grinned as Sara tapped her head. "Smart." "I learned a long time ago how easy it is to hack computers. The best system you have can be cracked in seconds by the right person. No one can hack a brain yet, though. Wipe it, and rewire it, yeah. But they can't read it. "And that keeps me safe." "But not me," she asked as she grabbed a towel and quickly dried her body in ruthlessly efficient fashion. "I'm afraid not." "So, how do I get out of this glorified day camp," she asked as she carelessly pulled on a fresh set of the women's sweats she had been given to work out while in the lab's 'care.' She had a small room that was more prison cell than not, but the fact was, she could walk out anytime she wanted. She just hadn't bothered telling them what else she had found she could do. Not yet. And now she was glad she hadn't. "I don't know," Sara told her honestly. They monitor everything but the toilets, and the showers," she gestured. "Mostly because none of these areas have windows, so you can't get in or out of here. Frankly, I've been trying to think of a way to get you out, but....." "So, there's no video in here," she asked as she turned to toss her towel aside after drying her hair. "No." "Still, you can still walk right out of here anytime without anyone stopping you?" "Well, yes," she nodded, "But....." Her jaw dropped as Ellie suddenly aged more than ten years, and her body became a perfect duplicate of her own right down to her own darker brown hair that was usually worn in a tightly braided bun. "Think you could sneak me in some extra clothes? It'd take timing, but we could get me out by having you come in, hide out a bit, and then come back out after I was gone." "That might just work," she smirked. "But I have a better idea." "What?" "I have an idea, but we can't talk here," she said as they ventured back into the exercise room. "Wait here, I'll be right back." "I's telling you, I's bout had it with this place," the heavyset black woman with the huge breasts barely contained by her jumpsuit with the company logo on it. "One more skinny wannabe pinches me tats, an' b'God I'ms gonna start chopping things off. "An' I's ain't talking fingers," she wagged a fat finger in front of a sniggering guard as she waddled past him. The man swatted her wide backside, laughing as he told her, "Go home, and sleep it off, Darla," the guard told her. "You know you love the attention." She glanced back at him with a snort as her wide nostrils flared, and she cursed him fluently. "I don't know why you tolerate that old cow," the younger security guard spat. "You think those young college kids are going to do the shit work Darla does, Ben," the older man snorted. "She has been cleaning this lab since it was built, and every week since she started, she threatens to quit. "Fact is, what pisses her off most is when some moron cops a feel, and doesn't finish the job. That's one very sexual woman. Used do dance down at Silver Lace when she was younger." "Her?" The balding guard chuckled. "Trust me. When she was younger, she could stop traffic, and hearts. Time catches us all, though. You'll find out." Darla left the gates, waddled out to catch the city transport as they spoke, and Ben shook his head. "Then why didn't she catch some sugar daddy," he sniggered. "Don't let Darla fool you, Ben. She's got more money than either of us will every see, and has buried three rich husbands. And she's still as hot as she ever was in the sack," Sam grinned with a wag of his brows. "Oh, God. You're not saying you....?" "I told you. That woman is hot. You pinch a tit, or slap her ass, you better come through with something more in a closet, or a restroom, or you'll have that woman in a piss-poor mood for the rest of the day. "Someone obviously teased the old gal, and...." "Old gal is right. How could you....?" "You still don't get it. That woman can still fuck you raw, and leave you wanting more. She's got one very well-trained cootch, and she may be big, but get that ugly rag off her, and she can still tent your shorts," Sam laughed as Dr, Elliot came in, scowling at their crude talk. Dr. Eurilyn's usual lab partner was a real prude, but the genius, rich genius some said, didn't seem to mind working with the old biddy who looked more like a walking crow than a real woman. The obviously dyed hair didn't help, nor did the way she kept it in a severe bun as the gaunt woman walked as if she strapped a steel bar to her back. "Now that one," Sam murmured as the woman checked in, and walked past them. He gave an eloquent shudder, and Ben didn't need translation. Darla Teales entered her apartment, and stopped to stare into her own twin's face. "Hot, damn, I's do still look good, don't I's," the large, black woman demanded of the younger brunette sipping tea beside her. "Doc," the Darla that had just entered the apartment grinned, her smile splitting her black face. "It worked perfectly," she grinned. "I worked all day in Darla's place," she winked at the Darla lounging in a peach gown that looked almost tent-like about her huge curves. "No one had a doubt I's me all day." "How many times I's get fucked, gorgeous? Names and places. We don' wanna slip up when I's go in tomorrow." The faux Darla chuckled as she waddled over to a chair, and began slimming down even as she did. "Actually, the rumor is they're expecting some big wigs in tomorrow. So I...that is, you were worked pretty hard all day. Not much time for anything else at all. "I did have to blow that fat director," she grimaced. "But the rest of the day 'we' only got a lot of pats, pinches, and promises." "I's sure hopes you let them know how pissed 'we' was," Darla snorted. "Loud, and often," she grinned, now looking comical as she slimmed down to a dark-skinned twenty-year old African beauty as she absently fondled her still large, ample breasts. "Just like the training mod you provided. It worked perfectly. "I really owe you, Darla," Ellie told her as she sank into her chair, grinning at the other two women as the work clothes now tented her slimmer, more curvaceous figure as her hair lengthened though it stayed crow's wing black. "No problem, sweetie," Darla grinned as Ellie now looked very much like one of her friends from a club that had moved west recently. "And you can p'rtend at be Evie fo' a while, and no one be th' wiser. Gives us time to figure out where to hides you for a longer spell. "Right, Doc?" "Sure," Dr. Eurilyn agreed as she smirked at Ellie, now Evie, who was grimacing at her clothes that now literally swam on her. "Meantime, I'd better get out of here. It might look a little odd if I started hanging out with you two just when Ellie managed to pull a disappearing act." "Right, which is why I suggested you have a day off to visit your niece, or....whatever," the new Evie told her as she sat up, and looked at her more seriously. "If you have to get in touch with me, just send messages through Darla. Don't try contacting me yourself. "It would be too dangerous." "For both of us," Sara agreed. "Be careful, Evie. G-T still has eyes everywhere. One slip, and we all go down." "Don't worry, doc," she smiled sweetly as she stood with one hand on the door. "I'm used to being undercover. Remember?" "Right." "Don' fret, doctor," Darla grinned. "I's be takin' care of this slut till we can hides her even better." "Thanks, Darla. We really owe you," Sara said as she left, closing the door securely behind her. "You betcha," Darla grinned, and eyed the new Evie. "And now I's gonna collect a bit." "Uhm, what do you mean," Evie asked as she eyed the bigger woman's sudden shark-like gaze. "Well, I telled ya that Evie, my Evie, had to take off west kind of sudden." "Yes," she nodded. "That left her job wide open, but she owed two weeks notice, and you's gonna fill in for her so she can collects her last check. "The deal is, you gets to keeps any tips fer y'self at the end o' the two weeks." "Just where did Evie work," Ellie frowned. Darla grinned, and crooked her finger. "Jus' you follow me, little girl, and I's gon' get you ready. "You starts in two hours." "But I can't even dance," she protested. "Trust me," Darla grinned, not letting her see the three special programs she had ready to load into her still operational remote behavioral control she held in one big hand at her side. Two hours later, the new Evie was swinging around a pole on a stage in nothing more than bells attached to her nipple shields, and a very immodest thong. It figures Evie was a stripper, Ellie, now Evie had grimaced at the start. She sashayed out onto the stage, hips swinging, with her now cast off, if exaggerated cowgirl costume barely covering her still ample curves Darla had her fill out just right until she looked perfect. In the time she spent dressing in the mostly exhibitionistic clothing Evie had left behind, Darla plugged in each of the three programs, giving her new apprentice a complete knowledge of seductive, and erotic dance, a full background in club etiquette, and just importantly, a working knowledge of sex from the viewpoint of a bisexual, working girl. Not that she realized it at the time, as Darla worked it so her new knowledge would filter in as needed, over a gradual period, so as not to alarm her. By the time she finished, Ellie was going to be Evie, and she wouldn't remember anything except how good it felt to be screwed by any willing gender, and dance in front of these screaming morons willing to throw good money at the chocolate-skinned Amazon who was now grinding her barely covered, hairless puss into the pole as she bent over, grinning back at the crowd as she demonstrated her flexibility. Ian Harris came into the club even as she was straightening up, smiling at the man who gestured her over to his end of the stage so he could stuff a bill into the smiling dancer's thong, and rubbing hat moist, pliant sex briefly before letting her go. "You did good work," Darla was told by the portly, balding man in a rumpled suit. "What you expect," she snorted. "I's been breaking in gals for years, even before they made it child's play with those little brain-popping chips you science boys comes up with," she snickered. "You just shows me you appreciates my assistance." "You know you have my utmost appreciation for all you do for me, and Gen-Tech," Ian Harris, the director of the research lab smirked as he pulled a thick envelope from his suit to slide across the table to her. Darla smiled as she took the envelope, and stuffed it deep into her massive cleavage. She knew by now she could trust Ian not to short her. Not when he valued her post at the lab as a mole that could learn anything about anyone. Which was proven yet again when that goody-goody Eurilyn had come to her for help in sneaking that little freak out of the isolation lab. "So, how long before the slut looses all memory of her past?" "In about three days, the behavioral progs starts taking dominance, and then she will finds those new memories will be all that she can recalls. By day four, she ain't gon' be nothing, or nobody but Evie for real." "Good. Let me know how it goes, and if you need anything else to keep the deception going. "I'll play along, and keep the search going, so that whiny little slut Eurilyn doesn't catch on." "No prob, Ian. "So, how did she do when she sucked you off today," Darla grinned. "She wasn't bad, but she obviously didn't have your skill, or experience," Ian chuckled. "Ain't many do, Mr. Harris," Darla cackled. "I just wish I could do that uppity bitch over, too. But I need her brain, and the profits she generates," he sighed. "So, just fine-tune her a little. Make her loyal to you, if nothing else, and teach her what loyalty means. If'n you knows what I's mean," she grinned. "I wish I could, Darla," he sighed. "But she's the one brain in the company you can't touch. I don't dare tamper with her, not knowing what precautions the bitch has likely taken. "I hear someone tried something like that with her up north, and the upshot of it was she shut the place down before she left." "Too bad. Still, you could manipulate her the old way," Darla grinned. "She's pretty obsessed with Evie there. I's thinking maybe she be more cooperative if you holds her over her head. "After the little slut is one-hundred percent programmed," she grinned as the waitress walked over to deliver the ordered drinks Ian had requested as he entered. "Of course," Ian smirked. "That will make controlling her all the easier after I acquire the patent rights on her shape-shifting ass. Just think of what the government boys would pay for a spy that could become...anyone." Darla shrugged. "Don't care 'bout no gov'ments, so long as I's gets paid," she reminded him. She glanced up where Evie was now shaking her firm, round ass in a man's face at the edge of the stage as the big, black patron leered at that fine, fuckable bottom, and she knew, just knew, Evie was gonna soon be doing her first real lap dance. She would love to be in the room when Danny let her sink down on top his fat, twelve inch log, and sprayed her full of his baby-making juice. Danny had knocked up more sluts in the city than most anyone else realized. He was a breeding machine, and just about every dancer she knew had at least one little bastard running around that had his DNA. Not that it mattered. Evie, Darla knew, was destined for the social clubs. She knew Ian's ways well enough. She'd be wearing a service collar, and popping out babies for the adoption market even as she spread those skinny thighs for all comers for the rest of her life. She wasn't the first girl she had tailored for the director's needs, and their mutual profits. She wouldn't be the last. "Looks like Evie gonna gets her first child right off the bat," she sniggered as she came off the stage to let the next dancer take her place with Danny right beside her, grinning as he led the black stripper Evie had become toward the hall where the back rooms were open for lap dances. And in this club, the no-touching rule was not only a joke. It was completely ignored. "It will be interesting to see what a child would inherit from her peculiar genetics," Ian smirked. "Does Billee Dee still tape the action?" "'Course," Darla snorted. "Vid sales are part of the profits that keep me fat and sassy," she smirked. "Ah, so this is one of your clubs?" "Naturally. You thinks I's gonna let someones else profit off this child when I's puttin' in all this hard work to makes her such a fine piece of ass?" "I had to wonder. "Anyway," Ian smiled, rising from his table after finishing his drink. "Send me a vid of her performance tonight. In public, and in the private rooms. "I'd stay for the encore, but unfortunately, I have to keep up the image of searching for our, ah, missing prototype," he smiled thinly. "Whatever," Darla drawled, and gestured for another drink herself. She'd give the little slut time, and then go to Billee Dee's office, and see how the new stripper was handling private lap dancing with a real stud. Wouldn't she be surprised to learn that not only was she not on birth control, but there was no other Evie? That she was the only Evie in the county, and she had just signed on with an exclusive contract to work when, and how Darla saw fit. This one, the old stripper grinned, was going to be a lot of fun. A lot of fun. Ian grinned as he watched the footage of Evie's fine, brown ass dancing around that thick, hard pole with no rubber covering it as she slowly ground her liquid cunt back and forth along the swollen head. When she finally accepted the massive, plantlike head into hr tight, rubbery hole, it looked as if her labia were stretching wider than possible as she slid down that thick pole until she was grinding her belly against the tall, muscular man who made her look like a dwarf with his height and musculature. Then she was moving again, riding that thick, hard meat she likely didn't realize was going to knock her up before she got away from him. For the supposed birth control implant Darla had acquired for her was actually a fertility enhancer that would guarantee her first mounting would prove productive. That the child would be under an open adoption contract by law thanks to fine print in Evie's own contract would ensure he got the first look at the kid, and its potential even as he continued to study the morphing bitch from afar. He had been astonished when Darla revealed that talent, and he thought of the possibilities at once. The problem was, he didn't know for certain they could duplicate the accident that had turned their camouflage bodysuit into a genuine bio-weapon if properly enhanced, and utilized by better minds than the stupid cop that had been so easily duped. When she rode that big man's cock, there was no denying she was into it, and really wanted him in her new orifice. Even after Danny groaned after nearly ten minutes of laying back and letting her milk him with her new body, he wasn't finished. Not even when he had filled her so full of his cum it pooled beneath them on the leather couch. He dropped her to the floor on all fours, and planted himself right back in his favorite hole, hard as ever, and took her again for another fifteen minutes before he filled her womb so full she could very well end up with triplets, or something. And still he kept fucking her, and he was just the first. That newly made slut danced like a pro, and fucked anyone that put cash in her hand when they entered the private rooms. And she did it all night long until the club finally closed. Four days, hell. That bitch had to have overdosed on that neural implant Darla had given her, because she was a one-woman orgy. She hadn't seen anyone that hot since that set of twins he harvested from personnel, and sold to a porn director for a percentage of their gross. Best business decision he had ever made, next to making Darla his spy. He watched the rest of the vid the old whore had brought in for him that morning, and told him she had not even stopped after the club closed. She had gone out with a few of the other girls, and not come back in till even later. There was no doubt, the overfed cow had sniggered with that dreadful chortle of hers, that Ellie was already gone, and Evie was all that was left. She still wanted to give the implants time to fully set in her mind, though. Besides, the girl was pure gravy at the club. They had done a banner night with her. She was waiting to see how she did tonight. So was he. Meanwhile, he had the commissioner on his ass, as well as the mayor, and even his Pentagon contacts were wondering just what the scuttlebutt was on the new bio-camouflage they had heard about from the press, of all things. Well, he would keep that uppity bitch Eurilyn on the project, and have her ascertain if the suit could replicate the same 'accident' or not, just for safety's sake. Of course, he wouldn't tell he that he wanted it to happen. If he knew it was possible, he could pull her, then, and have someone more amenable to his views carry on the actual research to develop the potentially protfitable new weapon. All that humanitarian crap looked good in the press, but he wanted profits. Not glowing press releases, and banal accolades. He wanted the secret to that cop's power he felt was now neutralized thanks to his silent partner. Darla came in on the ninth night since she had deceived Evie into becoming what she was becoming. The young, black slut was just reaching for a denim jacket, clad in a short denim skirt with ankle boots, and a bright green tee pulled over her braless melons. "You's not ready for work?" she asked. "This is my day off, Dar," the girl winked insolently. "I thought I'd go check out the other clubs. Sort of scope the competition," she grinned. "Maybe see how they stack up," she giggled as she thrust out her own chest. "Oh, right. Well, don't forget to...." "I'm way past the concerned mom speech thingee, Dar," Evie snorted as she snatched up her small, black purse she tucked into her jacket pocket, and then took her keys from the ring near the door before opening the door. "Don't wait up, I'll probably be out late," she giggled again, and was gone just that quick. "She is definitely ours," Darla smirked. She waited until she climbed into the back seat of the nondescript sedan before she closed her eyes, and her face rippled as she began to change almost instantly as the car pulled out away from the curb where she had loped down the sidewalk to climb into the vehicle waiting on her three blocks from Darla's apartment. She paid no attention to the three occupants in the car until her dark hair turned golden blonde, her caricature of a figure turned coltish, and she looked even younger than ever. More a teenager than an adult, with a body built for sin and vice. Her eyes opened, now a soft blue rather than dark black, and she smiled at the woman sitting in the back seat with her. "The cow bought it," she told Dr. Eurilyn. "So, how's it been going on your end?" "Just as I thought. Dr. Harris is sounding out the possibilities of replicating your....accident, and selling the results as a potential espionage weapon to the brass in DC." "We also found no less than thirty online bids for your service collar, and over fifty more for your first child," Mike said from behind the wheel of the sedan that now carried them away from the uptown area where Darla had 'retired.' "Yeah," Allen agreed. "And we're not talking chump change, sarge," he told him. "We're talking six figures. And higher. "Not to mention your vid sales have gone off the charts. You're a pretty hot commodity out there right now. Real prime stock." "So, it's going to make a real splash when I disappear," the transformed detective remarked. "Very loud, very wet," Allen agreed. "But this definitely confirms that Darla Teales is our underground vice lord we've been sniffing out all this time. "All we have to do is prove she knew exactly what she was doing....." "My contract," the restored Ellie said as she pulled the thick paper out of her denim jacket where she had stashed it after hacking Darla's PC to print a hardcopy. "Trust me, it's nothing but indentured slavery. And hardly any more ethical than it is legal. "To a scared, homeless girl, though, it probably seems real enough to keep them in line. And locked into a life they never should have entered. "Considering there is no mention of vid rights, or shared percentages, or reproductive options, I'd say that qualifies as theft by omission, as well." "I couldn't believe it when you said Darla was a suspect," Sara told her sadly. "And yet you still took the risk....?" "No risk, doc," Ellie said. "First off, we both know that remote don't work so well anymore unless I want it to work now. Plus," she grinned. "I took the battery pack out and stuck it back in backwards before I ever let her use it," she smirked. "I never got anything from that remote except a laugh." "Then how did you know....?" She chuckled as Sara blushed furiously, and Ellie told her with a straight face, "Doc, you don't work over five years in vice without learning a few things." "Oh," she murmured. "So, do we have enough for the warrants now," Allen asked his partners. "We do," Mike told them, coincidentally having a law degree of his own. "We're on our way to Judge Nelson's now. I want him to sign the warrants before anyone in that shady little operation even gets a clue we're coming." "This is going to impact Gen-Tech, too," Ellie told her. "You realize that, don't you," she asked as she looked at the doctor who was underdressed tonight to look more casual to avoid anyone's immediately recognizing her. "I guessed as much when you linked Dr. Harris to Darla's schemes. And vice-versa. "I already had Nelly, ah, Dr. Elliot," she reminded them of her lab assistant, "Purge all our hard drives, and close down the labs. There is nothing left of our work except what is in our heads now. Even the extra data-prog for the new bio-suits are gone. "Nothing is left for those bastards to profit by now, unless they do learn to read minds anytime soon." "Whoa, doc," Allen grinned. "I think we're definitely rubbing off on you there." "I suppose it can't hurt to see a bit more of the real world, considering I seldom see how life outside the lab is impacted by the discoveries we scientists might make." "It's not the scientists that screw up the world," Ellie told her. "It's the Harris' that decide how to apply those discoveries." "Preaching to the choir here, sarge," Mike agreed. "Yep. Without a doubt. "So, do we get to smack the fat man around," Allen asked with a suspicious gleam in his hazel eyes. "Let's just take care of Ms. Teale's illegal vice ring first, gentlemen," Ellie suggested. "Then we take down Harris, considering that according to the records I managed to.....acquire, he's instrumental in sending a lot of innocents her way for the flimsiest of excuses." "And all this time I thought he was just being spiteful when he 'rehabbed' those women," Sara sighed. Then she stared at Ellie, and gasped. "Oh, but you're not going to get into trouble over this, are you? I mean, legally, you signed a contract, and....." "Evie Johnson doesn't exist, doc. Besides, I figured out that my prints change as easily as my hair," she told her. "Evie is just a phantom. Like Ellie, or anyone else I choose to become. "Inside, I'm still James Drake...... "Okay, Jamie Drake, I guess," she sighed when all three glanced her way with a variety of expressions. "And she is still a city cop. And Captain Douglas will be the first to tell you that my.....new look does not negate my position with the force. "He just felt playing along with Harris would get us where we couldn't ordinarily go. He guessed it might even pay off, since we knew Darla worked part time there, and we had been looking for hard evidence on her for years without success." "And boy, ah, girl, did it pay off," Allen grinned as Mike stopped the car in front of the large, gated estate where two armed guards met them before they could even get out. "Detectives Mike Parker, Allen Harding, and Jamie Drake to see the judge," he said, holding out his own badge. "Who's the fourth member of your party, sir," one of the guards asked as he noted Sara didn't hold up a badge as the other three did when his flashlight played over her features. "Dr. Sara Eurilyn, material witness, and renowned scientist," Jamie told him. "All right, Parker. Make it quick. The judge is a man that likes to get to bed early," the senior sentry told him after turning from the radio he had been speaking into after identifying the guests. "It won't take five minutes, mister," Allen grinned. "We can talk fast," he winked at the man. "Do you ever act your age," Mike groaned as they pulled through the now open gate. "But I was," Allen protested, and Sara grinned at the byplay as she remembered her informative evening with the young detective in the van while staking out Ellie Sands' apartment. "I was afraid of that," Mike groaned. "Just let us do the talking." "So, do I whistle, or hum background music for you then?" "You zip it," Jamie popped him in the back of the head as they pulled up in front of the judge's impressive manor. "Jeez, what is it with you? That time of the month." Whatever Jamie said was lost in the slamming of the doors as Sara climbed out of her own side of the car. A sidelong glance told her Jamie put on a few years to make herself look more professional. she looked closer to her true age now, but still had that youthful innocence about her that belied her grim profession. "Open that mouth, and I'll have the cap assign you to sting details busting trannies on Laramie for the next six months," Jamie warned him as they approached the door. "In drag." Allen's expression was eloquent. "Police," came the shout even as the hard knock echoed through the room as Darla looked up from her favorite comedy, a glass of wine in one hand, a cigarillo spiked with hash in the other. "Shit," she huffed, pinching the end of the cigarillo, and then swallowing it whole before washing it down with the wine. "Jus' minute," she hollered as she levered herself up from her chair. "That stupid bitch better nots have gotten herself busted," she grumbled as she headed for the door, removing the four locks, and the half inch chain from the reinforced frame. "Yessir, officer," she asked, putting on her best smile as she looked at the four big officers in dark blue uniforms that stood behind the burly, dark-haired cop in a wrinkled suit with a crew cut, and eyes that looked meaner than a snakes. "Darla Teales," the man demanded, flashing his badge. "Yessir," she nodded, eyeing the badge suspiciously. "Wha's this all abouts?" "Ma'am, you're under arrest for violating sections nine-b, fourteen-34, 35, and 36 of the vice laws, among other things. "Henry," he nodded at one of the uniformed men. "Take her in. "Jake, you and Douglas are with me," he said as he pushed through the door into Darla's aparntment. "Now, jus' waits one damn minute, boy," Darla shrieked even as Henry grabbed one hand, spun her around, and pinned her against the heavy door she had installed for security. "I gots rights. I knows I do." "Yes, ma'am," the uniformed Henry drawled as he snapped the flexi-cuff around the woman's thick wrists. "You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney, and you have the right to be dragged out of here unconscious if you fuck with me. "Now, come along, if you don't mind, because I don't think I could afford the chiropractor's bill if I had to drag you." "You's gots no rights to talk t'me like that," Darla hissed as Henry's partner helped him shove the woman into the hall, and toward the elevator. "Nice woman," Douglas, a younger officer with boyish features smirked. "You detectives get to meet the best crowds." "Ain't it the truth," Jake, a grizzled officer almost as old as Mike snorted. "So, what are we looking for here, Mike?" "I want her computers, any disks, files, or hidden data chips she might have. In short, anything that might tie her to the vice ring we just took down at her central club." "Gotcha," Douglas said, and headed for the bedroom. "Whoa, rookie," Jake stopped him. "You start with the living area. I'll do the bedroom. You're too young for what's probably in there." Mike chuckled. "I think we're probably all too young for what that crazy bitch was into, Jake," he told his longtime friend. Jake chuckled his agreement as they went to work. "I don't knows what you's talkin' about," Darla huffed as she sat on two chairs pushed together in the small interrogation room. On the other side of the table sat a lean, balding man with brown eyes so cold they seemed to cut right into her. He was dressed in an innocuous white shirt, and slacks, with an ID badge dangling from his sagging breast pocket. The badge named him as Bill Douglas. "No," he asked, and threw down the copy of Evie's contract. "How about unlawful contracts for a start, Ms. Teales? "And you should know, we've already dragged in Bill Dalton, aka Billee Dee, and he's singing like a canary. Quite the racket you had going here," he said curtly as he dropped a spread sheet on top of the contract. "Even if the courts don't nail you for illegal vice and social violations, I can guarantee the treasury is going to very interested in your offshore accounts where your undeclared income is setting. Undeclared, untaxed income. "You know how they feel about tax evasion these days, Ms. Teales." Darla grimaced, and glanced away from those disturbing eyes, and then forced a smile as she looked back up at the man, trying to see just another guy with a dick in front of her. "Listen, handsome, can'ts we makes us a deal? I mean, I's gots lots of cash, and....." "Attempting to bribe an officer of the state, too, Ms. Teales," he chided her. "That's almost as low as what you tried to do to my undercover officer." "What officer? I's never seen no cops. I know cops," she insisted, "An' I's never seens a single one. I sho' never recruited none." "Sgt. Drake," Bill Douglas turned to the two-way glass. "Would you step in here moment?" Darla frowned as she watched the door, and after a moment, when it opened, she stared in confusion at the fussy brunette who looked more like a housewife in those slacks, and a faded, yellow blouse. "Sgt. Drake, I believe you've met Ms. Teales?" "Unfortunately," came the husky voice that Darla still didn't recognize. "Hey, what is this shit," Darla protested. "I's never seen you before," she told the two. "No," the other cop asked less than innocently as her features started to blur oddly. "How about now," Ellie asked as the young bbrunette she knew from Gen- Tech stood before her. Darla's dark eyes bulged as she stared at the cop, and frowned. "Tha's not right," she hissed. "Maybe this will ring a bell," Ellie asked in a voice as cold as the other cop's brown eyes. Even as she spoke, she turned into Evie before her eyes. Dark hair, dark eyes, dark skin. Even her blouse now strained to hold Evie's proud curves. Only the girl wasn't acting like herself. Not the self that Darla knew. "You....? We....We gotta deal," she tried to sputter. "We....have nothing," the cold voice drawled as the young, black teen became the fussy frump again. "We have you on no less than nineteen violations of the social welfare and vice regulations, Darla. "But we might just make a deal. "If you give us Ian Harris. "On a platter." "I's won't have to goes t' jail," she asked hopefully. "It's not that sweet a deal," the captain drawled. "But we might just shave some time off, if you cooperate." Darla grimaced again. On her pudgy face, it didn't make her look any better. "How much," she asked despondently. "Depends on how well you work out, and what we get. We might even forget the offshore accounts if you give us enough," Bill added. "Jus' names it, cop," she sighed in resignation. "I's a gal that knows when she's beat." "First, start writing," he said, sliding an LCD data screen across the table to her. "I want everything. In detail. "Especially when, and how you started working for Harris. As well as what you've done for him." "Every detail," the female chameleon stressed when she glanced her way. "That includes all the victims you two recruited, and sold into slavery. As well as where they are now." Darla nodded mutely, then looked up at Drake again. "I's gotta know. How'd you beats m'mod progs. I only uses the bests. No one ever beats them. How....." "Trade secret, Dar," she drawled. "Now, get to work," she ordered her as she left the room, followed by Bill. "You really going to let her offshore accounts slide," she asked with a scowl as they closed the door behind them, glancing in at her via the two-way glass. She was already working on her confession, tapping out the details that would hopefully help bring down Harris, and his sick plans. "Are you kidding," Bill glowered. "She's going to be begging if she ever gets out of prison once we're finished. The feds aren't likely to leave a dime in her name once they start rolling up the tax fees, not to mention the remunerations for the victims we recover." "Hopefully we can find them all, but....." "Yeah, I know," Bill sighed. "In a case like this, it's hard to find all of them. Especially after a certain period of time." "Overseas auctions don't help," Jamie drawled, now using that as her name. Even her official ID had already been changed to reflect her new gender. It helped that she could make herself look more like her own age when she needed to do so, but she had already found out that unless she concentrated on it, she tended to lapse back into the younger Ellie persona. Especially when she went to sleep. Something else Darla had not noticed. "True. With her confession, we should have more than enough to arrest Harris, even with all his contacts. "You want to serve the warrant?" "You know damn well I do," she smiled more like her old self. "And, cap," she added as she turned to head toward her waiting partners. "Thanks for letting me roll with this one." "I'm just glad you came out of it all right." "Yeah," she said with a laugh, looking down at her borrowed clothes that didn't do much for her appearance. "I'm just peachy." Bill chuckled, waving him off as the transformed sergeant said something about shopping in mostly four-letter terms as he walked off. He then turned back to the interrogation room, put on his game face once more, and went inside to hammer the last nail in the bitch's coffin. Ian Harris looked up when his door opened, frowning when he saw it Dr. Eurlyn who stood there. "You're taking a hell of a chance coming back in here after what you pulled," he blustered as he closed the folder on the few fragments of information left after she and her assistant had literally closed up shop and disappeared three days ago without a word. He had been taking flack from the brass he had promised a new weapon, and his contacts were demanding to know what he was trying to pull when he couldn't come up with a viable prototype. It didn't help that Darla and Evie had both disappeared, and everywhere he turned, he was getting the cold shoulder of late. "I wanted to be here when Sgt. Drake talked to you," she said, holding the door for someone behind her. "Sgt....Drake? Who the hell is that," the portly man demanded. "And where the hell is my camo-suit? Gen-Tech backed that research, bitch, and we demand......" "Well, now I'm rather hurt," a shapely brunette in a severely tailored business suit and slack drawled as she stepped in behind Sara. "Didn't you even bother to read the reports on the project's outcome," Sara asked, shaking her head at him as the two women approached his desk. Ian frowned, then stared at the woman next to the doctor. "Ellie," he frowned. "I prefer Jamie, Dr. Harris. As in Sgt. Jamie Drake, city detective." "This is impossible," he frowned, reaching for a drawer even as he spoke. "Don't do anything stupid, doctor," Jamie growled, her older features making her look far more formidable as she pulled aside her dark navy jacket to put a hand on her pistol. "I'm not," Ian said, sweating heavily as he pulled the drawer open. "I was just getting..... "This," he spat as he pulled out a bio-link remote, and pressed a button. "And that is for what....exactly," the detective asked with a smirk as nothing happened. "You...? This can't be happening. You're designed to...." "I'm not a machine, doctor," she sneered, reaching over to pull the remote from his pudgy hand, and snapping it half with disturbing ease as Sara's brows rose at her display. "I'm a police officer. And you, sir, are under arrest for so many bad things I cannot even name them all just now," she told him as she pulled out a warrant, and slapped it down on the desk in front of him. "You can't arrest me," Ian shook his head in denial. "Sure I can," Jamie smiled curtly. "It works like this. "Dr. Ian Harris, you are under arrest for all the nasty, bad things you have done, and have been planning on doing. "List to be divulged later, because I'm in a hurry. "You have the right to remain silent.....Ah, heck, you know your rights. Someone like you just has to have heard them lots of times before. "Boys," she turned to shout behind her. "Boys," the lean, blonde detective scowled as he came into the room with an older man built like a bull. "Did she just call us boys?" "You are a boy. Shut up, and cuff the perp," Mike growled as he walked over to the doctor's work station, and started pulling out files. "Hey! You can't touch those. That's classified information....." "Sure we can," Allen told him. "We're cops. We can't read, so it won't hurt anything if we just collect all the nice, shiny things for other people to read." "You're interfering with national security," Ian howled as the younger man deftly cuffed him, and walked him toward the door where his own security men stood looking owlishly at him. Four uniformed officers waiting behind them. "Don't worry," Allen told him. "We do it all the time," he claimed as he passed the man off to the other officers. "All right, Dr. Eurilyn," Jamie nodded to her. "This is your show now. "Find out what he was hiding," she asked her as they went to Harris' desk, and opened his private computer files. Mike, meanwhile, continued to sift the files, and data chips that were in suspiciously marked cases, adding them to a growing pile of things he would be taking back to the police lab for examination. "You think he really kept his personal records here," Sara asked her as she used her security code, recently raised by a very embarrassed general from the capitol, to override Harris' security codes. "He couldn't be that..... "Okay, maybe he is," she said, shaking her head as they opened a private file simply called personal investments. "Bingo," Jamie growled as he stood at her side, reading the list of victims, their sale price, and their current location according to Ian Harris' private codes for value and beauty. "I cannot believe....." "Believe it, doc," Mike told her as he walked over to her, holding a data chip. "This is the real world. Unfortunately, it's pretty ugly. "But I have a question. Does G-T have any Arab investors?" "Not that I know of," she told him with a frown as he held out the chip. "Then why is this labeled in Arabic?" She took the data chip, slipped it into the computer, and booted up the program. "Ohmigod," she rasped as they all paused to look at the contents of the file. "Even he couldn't be stupid enough to sell this to terrorists," she rasped." "Ahhh, what is this," Allen asked. "Fusion technology," Jamie said grimly. "Unlimited energy. Very big, very dangerous in the wrong hands." "We have to call DC again," Mike rasped. "Any indications of whether or not it's been sold yet," Jamie asked. "I....I can't tell from this file. This is just....blueprints for the fusion reactor, and basic fuel applications. But if he labeled it in Arabic....?" She paused and looked up at Jamie. "How did you know what it was," she asked him. "Do you read Arabic?" "Of course not," Jamie sputtered. "I just recognized the design, and....." "You recognized the design of a highly classified, experimental fusion generator," Sara asked her, gaping at her now. "I'm almost afraid to ask, but....do you have a background in theoretical physics, or.....?" Jamie frowned as she shook her head. "Now that you mention it," she murmured, glancing at her partners as if for help. "No. "I....don't really know how I knew that. I just did." "I suggest we keep that fact to ourselves," Sara told her. "No problem," Jamie nodded, a little disturbed that she should be able to recognize something obviously far beyond his experience. "So, did the sarge suddenly get super-smart, too," Allen asked inanely. No one chided him this time. "We have to get this back to the precinct," Mike spoke up. "All of it. "Then we'd better brief the captain, and get the right federal dogs on this trail. This is way over our heads." "I agree," Sara told them, logging off the file, and then downloading the personal files for the detectives. "Let's box this stuff up, guys," Jamie told them as she added the disks to the mound of evidence they were collecting. "It looks like we'll be doing overtime on this one after all." "Hey, long as they pay us for it, who cares," Allen grinned as he labeled one of the folders he dropped a computer disk into afterward. "Let's just make sure we get it all, and get it right. I don't want this clown getting off on a technicality," Mike told him. "None of us do," Jamie told him. "So let's just make sure we get the job done right the first time." None of them argued with that. It was much later before Mike pulled up in front of Jamie's apartment late, and they both hesitated a moment as the sedan idled in front of the old brownstone that was virtually an antique in the newly remodeled city still being rebuilt after the civil unrest of the past decade. "You okay, sarge," he asked as Jamie sat in the seat staring at his apartment window on the second floor. "You cannot imagine how sick I am of hearing that particular question," she sighed. "But what I'm wondering, is.....Did I leave that light on when I left, or is someone in my apartment that shouldn't be there," she asked as she stared up at the diffused light that spilled out around the lowered shades. "Should I call backup," Mike asked as Jamie climbed out of his car. "No. It may be just be the landlord, or.....?" "Someone who noticed you haven't been home in a while," Mike suggested as he got out of the car with her, and pulled his own gun. "I'm not helpless, Mike," she grumbled as she walked toward the front steps, still wearing her pistol on her hip out of habit though she had not drawn it. "Never thought you were, sarge," Mike smiled thinly. "But only an idiot walks blindly into danger." "Thanks," Jamie smiled sardonically as they went up the steps together. A few minutes later, they approached her door, and Jamie started to put the key into the door. "It's already unlocked," she frowned. "And I know I always lock my door." Mike nodded, and she drew her gun, too, as they slowly opened the door. They saw no one in the living room of his small apartment, and quickly cleared the room, and started toward the hall even as voices came from the kitchenette on the far side of the apartment. They eased back toward the kitchenette, and Jamie gestured as she pressed against the wall, and glanced into the next room. His groan was telling as Mike hissed, "What is it? Bangers? Or....?" "Worse," Jamie rasped, leaning against the wall as she closed her eyes. "It's my mother." Mike gaped as he noted one of the voices in the next room was definitely female. "Your mother," he almost laughed. Then he looked at Jamie again, and sobered. "Oh. Your mother," he said as he realized no one had let the sarge's secret out beyond a few trusted companions on the force, and of course, Gen-Tech. "This is going to be bad," Jamie predicted as she holstered her pistol with a weary sigh. "I'm sure she'll understand," Mike told her. "I thought I heard voices," a short, man with thinning brown hair in a cheap suit grinned as he came out of the kitchen to stare at them. "Who are you? Do you know my brother-in-law?" "Brother-in-law," Mike frowned. "Mike, this is Pete Carter. My.....Dawn's husband," Jamie told him. "Right," Mike nodded, having met Jamie's sister before, but not her husband, as she had only recently married. "Do I know you," Pete asked suspiciously. "Say, who are you, anyway, and what are you going in James' apartment?" "I'd like to ask the same of you," Jamie grumbled, noting the silence from the kitchen. A moment later, two women came out to stand with Pete, staring at them. "Who the devil are you," the graying brunette demanded as she came in to glare at them. "You know Mike Parker, mama," the willowy woman in her late twenties smiled as she stood beside her husband. "Is something wrong, Mike," she turned to ask him. "Is that why you're here?" "Did something happen to James," Penelope Drake demanded of the detective, completely ignoring the young brunette at his side. "You could say that," Jamie told her softly. "And you are," Pete asked her with just a bit too much interest for her, or Dawn, who elbowed him. "Actually," Jamie grimaced as she glanced at Mike. "I'm......James." Mike was the only one who hadn't froze, gaping at her as if she were mad. "Just what kind of joke is this," Penelope demanded, staring at her as if she had heard the punch line to a joke she had not found funny. "It's no joke, mother," she told him. "I'm James. Or I was. Well, I still am, inside. It's just..... "Well there was this accident....." "Some accident," Pete drawled as he eyed her with obvious admiration for the shapely brunette before him. "Hey," Dawn elbowed him again. "I'm right here, Pete." Jamie glared at him, not that amused, and then turned back to his mother. "It's a long story, mother, but the truth is, I am James." "This I gotta hear," Pete snickered, "Shut up, Pete," Dawn ordered her husband with another elbow. "Yes, please do," Penelope Drake said as she shot him a cool glance. "And you," she demanded of Jamie. "You'd better make this good, because I simply cannot see how my son could become something like.....like you," she snorted in contempt. Jamie looked down at her professional clothes she thought looked good enough for her, and sighed. "Okay, let's all sit down, and get comfortable, mother," she suggested. "This is going to take a lot of explaining." The phone answered on the fifth ring. "Speak," came the curt response on the other side. "This is Dr. Harris," Ian rasped in a low whisper over the line, painfully conscious of the guards standing just a few feet away as he made his single call. "I need your services." "In regard to what matter," the somber tone asked in the same curt manner. "Project Chameleon is rogue. I want it....terminated. Do you understand?" "Perfectly. Consider the rogue neutralized." the speaker replied in the same manner, exhibiting no real emotion at all in his voice. "On a personal note," Ian added after a second thought. "Yes," the man asked, sounding impatient now. "I want Chameleon's creator dealt with as well. I will, of course, finance the additional venture." "Understood." The line went dead without any further comment. "All right, Harris," the guard growled irritably as Ian hung up the phone, trying not to smirk with satisfaction. "Back to your cell. You can chat with your lawyer when he gets here." Ian had not called a lawyer. He had called a special number once given to him years ago by an overseas contact. The man would get anything done for a price. Being a practical man, Ian had set up the special account he would use to pay the assassin at the same time. He believed in being prepared. Whatever happened now, nothing would save that bitch, or the freak cop she had created. Nothing at all. TO BE CONTINUED..............