Agent Zulo: The Cabal free porn video

In Altered Fates: Agent Zulo we met an amnesiac private eye with the same abilities as the Medallion of Zulo but no idea who he was or how he came by them. In this story, we get a few answers...and some more questions. AGENT ZULO: THE CABAL by BobH (c) 2012 Note: This story is a direct sequel to 'Altered Fates: Agent Zulo' and contains spoilers for that tale. - 1 - Maria watched me from the the other side of the hotel room where she was slouched against the wall like the teenager she appeared to be, looking as surly as she always did when Johanna wasn't around. She hated me, but then given how I'd messed up her life I had to expect that. "Won't be long now," she sneered, not that I needed reminding. I might have responded to her had I been able to but I was lying on a bed, my hands and feet tied, totally immobile. And I was gagged. I'd also just felt the familiar tingling, so Maria had been right. It was time. And if we knew it, so did Johanna. As if on cue the door to the room opened and Maria immediately stood up straight, smoothing down the skirt of her maid's uniform as two figures entered. "My God!" said the younger woman on seeing me. "You have a twin sister, Johanna! But why is she tied up like that?" Appearances to the contrary I wasn't Johanna's twin sister. Twelve hours ago I'd looked nothing like her. Twelve hours ago I'd been a baby girl. Then a piece of Johanna's clothing had been pressed against my skin. Johanna Karlen leaned heavily on her cane, regarding me with a gaze that seemed to burn from deep within her aged face. She was in her seventies and time had not been kind to her, cutting deep lines into her striking features and leaving her stooped over. Now that I was her doppelganger I was feeling every one of her aches and pains as if they were my own. What a contrast to her companion, a beautiful twentysomething brunette bursting with youthful vigour, her body alive with the vital juices that seemed to have fled Johanna's dessicated form. She was wearing a tight red mini-dress that emphasized every curve of her amazing figure, and a pair of Louboutins with four inch heels. I recognized her as Rachel Osterman, a former model and wife of multi-billionaire investment banker Kent Osterman, CEO of Rexel Burnham Dreier, one of Wall Street's biggest, most predatory firms. "She's tied up for our protection, Rachel," said Johanna. "You see, I don't have a twin." "I don't understand." "What you're looking at isn't human. I know this will seem unbelievable, but it's some sort of robot. Touch its skin and you'll see what I mean. Go on, there's nothing to be scared of. It can't hurt you." This was a lie, and an absurd one, but Johanna would use any story that would get a victim to touch my skin. Rachel looked dubious and not a little fearful, but curiosity got the better of her and she came over to the bed. I hoped she wouldn't touch me, that this time would be different, but it wasn't. Just like all the others before her she hesitantly reached across and touched my cheek. "Oooww!" she said, instantly pulling her hand back, more surprised than hurt. I knew what she had felt because I'd felt it too, as I always did. "What is it, Rachel?" said Johanna, feigning ignorance. "A shock," said Rachel, staring at her fingertips in wonder. "It was a like a jolt from an electrical outlet." Well, I don't know if I'd describe the sensation like that exactly, but what I did know was pretty soon now she would begin to notice the changes, changes that had already started in both our bodies. "Wh...what's happening to me?" she said, feeling them beginning in her body but not yet realizing what they were. "Just sit down and try to relax," said Johanna solicitously, "it'll be easier that way." "Easier? Do you know what's happening to me, Johanna?" "Oh yes. You're exchanging forms with that copy of me, but don't worry - the process is painless." "I'm turning into the robot?" said Rachel, still not grasping the situation. "No," said Johnanna, chuckling at the idea, "you're not turning into a robot. She's not a robot. I lied about that part." "She...she's turning into me!" The transformation had progessed far enough that Rachel could see my face was slowly morphing into hers. That's when the full enormity of what was happening finally hit and she started to panic. "Hold her down!" order Johanna, and Maria grabbed the flailing, screaming woman. She held her back in the chair while Johanna produced a syringe from somewhere and adminstered a fast-acting sedative. That did the job. Rachel slumped back in the chair, glassy-eyed, and didn't move as the transformation continued, finally slowing and stopping thirty minutes after it began. I had taken on her form while she and Johanna were now twins. "Excellent!" said Johanna, looking at me approvingly. "In twelve hours time you and I will be swapping forms and that beautiful young body will finally be mine. I can hardly wait." Despite now being considerably younger and stronger I still couldn't break my bonds, try as I might. In the two months since they had first grabbed me I hadn't been given a single real chance to escape. I was beginning to despair of ever doing so. Unbidden, my mind drifted back to that day.... - 2 - "I wish you could stay," I said, staring wistfully at my lover from the bed. "Me too, baby," he said, as he finished knotting his tie, "but Uncle Sam calls and I have to go. Turning from the mirror, he came over and sat on the edge of the bed. Gently fondling my naked breasts, he leaned in and we shared a last, long kiss. Breaking it, he stood up, put his jacket on, and smiled at me. "I wish we could've had longer together, Eve," he said. "Maybe next time?" "Count on it!" I said. John nodded, opened the door of our hotel room, and then he was gone. Not for the first time I wondered exactly what it was John Melman did for 'Uncle Sam', but he never talked about his job and I never asked. It was probably better for both of us that way. Still, even for us this had been a short get together, just a single over-nighter in a hotel. It might also be our last ever. When I'd got back to Washington DC from New Jersey yesterday and finished my business with Thomas Lucan I'd hoped for and expected more. Lucan. I smiled grimly at the memory of what I'd done to him. He had known me in the past, that past I could no longer remember, and had somehow managed to track me down in my identity as Adam Jones, private investigator. He knew of my strange abilities and offered me a deal whereby he would fill in some of those gaps in return for me performing certain tasks, one of which was to give him a new, younger body. This I did, but the body I gave him was that of a serial killer of prostitutes whom the cops had been hunting for years. I then dropped a dime on him and he was duly arrested. What I didn't know was who else he might have told about my Adam Jones identity, which meant I couldn't use it again. My current form, my Eve Rogers identity, was the one I spent most of my time in, the one I'd chosen as the 'real' me. I had taken great care to cover my tracks but, given time, if they threw enough money and manpower at the problem and gathered together every possible surveillance tape from ATMs, traffic cameras and the like it was just conceivable someone could link Adam Jones to me. It would take time, probably several weeks, but I had to face the fact it was theoretically possible that a powerful and determined enough group might find me that way. Which meant it was time to move on, to establish a new 'default' identity for myself. But, first things first, and I was starving. I picked up the phone. "Hi, room service?" I said. "Yes, this is room 440. Could you send up a pot of coffee and a full breakfast please? Twenty minutes? Yes, that'll be fine. Thank you." Twenty minutes would give me just enough time to shower. Which it did. I had barely finished drying myself and was knotting the sash belt on my bath robe when there was a knock on the door. "Room service," said a voice. I opened the door, smiling at the food on the trolley. Then I looked up...into the face of Thomas Lucan. Before I could react, Lucan lashed out with his right arm and struck me. It felt like I'd been hit by lightning and I collapsed to the floor, muscles spasming uncontrollably. A stun gun! The fucker had tased me! "OK, get in here!" ordered Lucan, and a young woman entered the room. Skinny, flat-chested and in her late-thirties, she had a long, plain face pock-marked by acne scars. Unless she had a sparkling personality I somehow doubted she got many dates. She was carrying a sports bag, which she dropped on the floor before turning and closing the door behind her. The two of them then conducted a quick search of the room. "Found it!" said the woman, holding up my wristwatch. "When does the alarm go off?" said Lucan. "In about ten minutes." "Excellent! It's a five minute warning telling Agent Z his twelve hours are up and his power is about to activate. That means we only have to wait fifteen minutes." Grabbing a shoulder each they lifted my still spasming body onto a chair and tied my hands behind me and to the chair. "You probably thought you were so clever giving me this body then ratting me out," said Lucan with a sneer, "but who's laughing now? The cops gave me my one pnone call and I used it to phone a number I hoped I'd never have to use. I called the people who used to run you when you were Agent Z. You have no idea how desperate they are to have you back, or the resources they could bring to bear on finding you when I pointed them in the right direction." Lucan was right. When I thought of what it must have taken to find me this fast I was appalled. Neither the CIA nor FBI could've done that, which meant they were more powerful than either of those agencies. While Lucan had been tying me to the chair his companion had emptied the contents of the sportsbag on the bed and started gathering up my effects and packing them away in the bag. It was the stuff on the bed that made me sweat however because now I knew how they intended to smuggle me out of the hotel: they would be carrying me out through the lobby in plain sight of everyone and if this got any reaction from anyone it was likely to be a smile. After all, what would could look more natural than a young couple with their baby? "Baby," I said, feeling returning to my tongue. "What?" said Lucan. "You're taking me out as a baby." "Of course we are. Given your abilty and that you can't be trusted not to try to run away it's the perfect way of moving you around from location to location. You can't escape and even if you protest...well, who would find anything odd about a baby wailing? I think you'll be spending a lot of time as a baby from now on." "It's buzzing," said the woman, holding up my watch. "Five minutes," said Lucan, smiling at me maliciously. "You have five more minutes as Eve Rogers then she's gone forever. I imagine you put a lot of time into constructing that identity for yourself. What a shame it's all now going to waste." He paced up and down the room a couple of times, then turned to face me again. "There's one thing I'm curious about," he said. "Why'd you do it? Why did you give me a killer's form and rat me out when you could've just given me a 'clean' one and we could both gone our separate ways?" "Because I don't like being manipulated," I replied, "and because I don't like you." "Fair enough, but all that trying to be cute with me has gotten you is a one way ticket back to the folks you were running away from. Think on that, smart guy." "Time's up," said the woman. She was right. I could feel the tell-tale tingling. Twelve hours had passed. My power was active again. "Great," said Lucan, grabbing the small, pink baby's dress from the bed, "let's get this done." He thrust the dress into my face. As soon as it touched my face I felt the familiar jolt, as if I'd just received a static electric shock. "Settle back, grab yourself a drink from the minibar, and watch this, Gina," said Lucan to the woman. "It's like nothing you've ever seen before." "Actually I was shown videos of Agent Z transforming when I joined Section 13," she said, "though seeing it 'in the flesh' should be interesting. And that's Agent DiNozzo to you." Section 13. So that was the name of the group that ran me back in the day. I wondered they had originally been a section of, and what their remit was. Perhaps I was their prime intelligence asset and running me was their only function. If so, getting me back would be their major priority. Someone had been a little too cute when they named me Agent Z, however. Now that I knew about the Medallion of Zulo I had to think that 'Z' meant whoever gave me that designation knew about it too, which raised all manner of interesting questions. "It's starting," said Lucan, "the transformation." Actually it had started the instant the dress had touched my face, my strange power somehow locking onto the spoor of the last person to wear it and beginning to rewrite my DNA, to shrink me and to render me a pre-verbal child. What Lucan meant was that those changes were now becoming visible. So they were. I could feel my bonds loosening, which meant I was already getting smaller. Where that mass went when I shrank - or came from when I grew - was a complete mystery. "Did they tell you he has the same powers as something called 'the Medallion of Zulo'?" said Lucan. "No," said the Agent DiNozzo. "What's that?" "Huh, maybe they don't know. It's a magical artifact created in Africa and, so legend has it, brought to America on a slave ship. Rumour had it that J. Edgar Hoover got ahold of it in the 1950s, and that he used it. Given my interest in the matter I did some checking and called in some favours to get to the bottom of the matter. Turns out it's true. He *did* have it in the 1950s." My ears pricked up at this, which had not been part of the information Lucan had given me about the medallion when we made our deal. "Is it true what they say about Hoover," asked Agent DiNozzo, " that he refused to go after the Mafia, and even publicly denied it existed because, of an incriminating photo they had?" "Of him sucking Clyde Tolson's dick?" said Lucan. "That was the story, and a lot of people believed it. He was certainly a faggot and liked dressing in women's clothes, that's definitely true. I know because I saw it with my own eyes. He made the ugliest fucking woman I've ever seen. Makes you wonder why he never used the medallion on himself when he had it. Fear? Religious dread? Who knows?" "So what did he use it for?" "Hoover was a total momma's boy and real weird when it came to women. Prior to him taking over at the FBI in 1924 the Bureau had female field agents. When he came in he put an end to that and it didn't have any again until after his death in 1972 - there are things I could tell you about that too, though if I did I'd have to shoot you afterwards. Getting rid of the dames is all good and well but there are situations when a male agent isn't going to get you the access a female agent could. If that alleged diary of his that came to light is to be believed then before acquiring the medallion, from the thirties up through the sixties, Hoover would order agents he selected to take on special undercover assignments as women or drag queens, sometimes lasting for years. He'd require them to 'stay in character' too, and wear high heels, skirts and make-up at all times while on those assignments. Most hated the work, but anyone who objected was apparently threatened with firing or even jail time." "Sounds like he was a sexist pig." "Among other things. That was partly a result of him being a man of his time, and partly a result of his own peculiarities. The medallion enabled him to put trained agents in situations that called for a woman without him having to use actual women, which I'm sure appealed to him. You can just see him creaming himself at the thought of one of his heterosexual male agents turned into a woman and all glammed up, lying back, legs apart, and taking one for truth, justice, and the American way." "But he eventually somehow lost the medallion, right?" "*Everyone* eventually loses the medallion, however hard they try to hang onto it. The thing's a powerful tool of fate. It won't be bound by mortal constraints." As fascinating as this was, I hadn't lost sight of my own situation. I'd now shrunk to the point where I could slip my bonds and for a moment I considered doing so. But only for a moment. Physically, I was now equivalent to a nine or ten year-old. Assuming I slipped free and got out of the room, then what? The hotel was on the Beltway outside Washington DC with no other buildings near enough to get to in time. And even if there were it wouldn't help. In about fifteen minutes I would be a baby and unable to fend for myself. The only place I could sensibly head for would be the hotel's creche, which Lucan and his friend would also realise. So basically, I was screwed. Eventually, my transformation had run its course and I had become a baby girl. I'd never done that before and it made me nervous. Becoming so young would leave me way too vulnerable and with no control over if and when I changed again. I hated being vulnerable more than anything. Looking up from the chair I couldn't get over how big everything was, and how intimidating these enormous people who loomed over me now were. "That really was something to see with your own eyes after all," said the woman, taking hold of me and lifting me high in the air. I was appalled at how effortlessly she picked me up and carried me over to the bed. Laying me down, she quickly diapered me, got the dress on me, and strapped me to her chest with a baby-carrying harness. She barely even noticed my feeble efforts to resist her. "We good to go?" asked Lucan, picking up the sportsbag. Agent DiNozzo put a pacifier in my mouth, patted my head, and nodded. "Then let's do this." We left the room, took the elevator to the lobby, and walked across it giving every appearance of being a young family. Not that I could see much of this since I was facing DiNozzo's chest and bouncing up and down as she walked. I might not remember much of my past but I was pretty sure this would still be up there as one of my strangest experiences. Outside the hotel a limo pulled up and we climbed in the rear, DiNozzo unstrapped the harness and handed me across to a grey-haired older woman who looked to be in her seventies, her face deeply-lined. "Hello, Paul," she said, smiling down at me. "You have no idea how happy I am to finally see you again after all this time." Paul? Was that my real name? Had I started out male? "Do you have the watch?" she asked the younger woman. "Of course, Mrs Karlen," she replied, passing across my watch. The name meant nothing to me. "Good," said the other woman, slipping it over her own wrist. "With this I'll always know when we can put our little asset here to work." At length, the limo pulled up in front of a townhouse in Georgetown. Here we all got out except for Gina DiNozzo, who was driven off to who- knows-where. "Welcome to my home," said Mrs Karlen, as we entered. The house was all dark wood panels and leather furnishings and bookshelves full of old volumes. There was very little about it to suggest it had ever known a woman's touch. I was carried through to the main room where a cradle awaited, was gently placed in this and a small blanket pulled over me. "Sleep now," said Mrs Karlen, rocking the cradle back and forth. "I'll wake you when we're ready for you." Despite my best efforts, the rocking had the desired effect and I soon started feeling drowsy, eventually slipping under. I slept for a long time, so long in fact that what woke me was something being pressed against my cheek and the jolt that told me I was transforming again. I opened my eyes to see Mrs Karlen looming over me. She was holding the garment she had touched to my skin: a maid's uniform. Standing behind her, looking puzzled but saying nothing, was Thomas Lucan. "Carry him upstairs," she said. "Quickly, before the transformation progresses too far!" Doing as he was told, Lucan lifted me from the cradle and carried me up several flights of stairs to a small, attic bedroom that I assumed was the maid's quarters. So Mrs Karlen wanted me to be her maid? That didn't make any sense. By the time Lucan placed me on the bed I was already around five years old physically and still aging steadily. It took Mrs Karlen somewhat longer to climb the stairs than it did Lucan. When she made it to the room she sat down heavily on a chair, dropping her cane and lighting a cigarette - one of those black ones with the golden tips. She took a few long drags on this, before turning her attention to me. "You caused us a lot of trouble, Paul," she said. "First running away, then killing two of our men with a bomb that I assume was meant for the Cabal." "'Cabal'?" I said, my voice now back, not knowing what she was talking about. "Our pet name for ourselves, for Section 13's leadership council," she replied. "We knew you disagreed with our plan but we never thought you'd take matters that far. Which was careless of us. In mitigation, we created you, and you had been Section 13's most loyal servant for decades, its most ruthless assassin, so why would we even entertain the idea you could turn against us?" They created me? I needed to know what she meant by that, but first I had another question. "What plan?" I said. "And why did I object to it?" "Ah, Paul," she said, shaking her head, a note of genuine regret in her voice. "You and I and all of Section 13 had been part of our nation's frontline against Communism since the early 1960s. Then the wall came down and the Soviet Union broke up. We were ecstatic. We thought we had won, yet today we're in hock to Red China, with our industrial base hollowed out and our national debt astronomical. To those of us who remember the Cold War and the sacrifices that were made then, the brave men and women who gave their lives for our country, this is incredible. How could such a thing be allowed to happen? An economist would explain that the Chinese kept their currency artificially low, boosting exports, penalizing imports, and running a massive trade surplus which they sunk into US government bonds, basically giving us low-cost money that we gorged ourselves on, screwing up the economy in the process. This is true, but it didn't need to go down that way. The people responsible for this happening, for putting their personal greed ahead of our national interest and wrecking America, are traitors." "Who, our politicians?" "Them, yes," she said, "but even more than them the people behind them. We kid ourselves that this is still a democracy in anything more than a cosmetic sense, that there's a difference between the Democrats and the Republicans. There is when it comes to social issues, the things they use to rile up their bases, but no one with any sense gives a shit about that stuff. Where it really counts, deep down in the economy, there is no difference. Both parties have been bought by Big Money and serve Big Money. We have government of Big Money, by Big Money, and for Big Money. And if you can make out like gangbusters by sinking the country into debt to Red China then hey, who cares? Well we care, that's who, patriots who put everything on the line to keep America safe from the Communists and who aren't about to stand by and watch as it gets handed to them on a silver platter. Money is power, and the only language our politicians understand. So the Cabal decided they would take the place of the big money traitors who have bought our political parties, to use your power to become them and then execute them for their treason. When we're all in place we'll be able to change the direction the country is taking because we'll then be the point one percent and we'll *own* the politicians." "You'd also all be extremely rich." I said, drily. "That's what you said when you objected to the plan," said Mrs Karlen, sounding annoyed. "You couldn't seem to accept that was a side-effect of the plan and not its main purpose, as was our getting younger bodies. You objected to that, too. My predecessor as head of the Cabal had ruled that your powers were to be used strictly for field operations only, and you were wedded to that principle." "So what now?" I said. "How does turning me into your maid further your aims?" "It doesn't," she replied. "But when you've finished transforming you'll have the body of an eighteen year-old, undocumented alien. Before she and her baby were deported we took possession of her maid's uniform knowing her spoor would be on it and let you transform into her double." "But why?" "So that twelve hours from now you can touch Mr Lucan here and he will become that maid." "Say what?" said Lucan, suddenly alert. "What is this? You promised me a new identity, but no way am I becoming her." "Unless you want to be put back in the system, still wearing the body of a wanted serial killer, that's exactly what you'll do," said Mrs Karlen, her voice steely. "You may have known how to contact the Cabal but you are not one of us and we don't yet know to what degree we can trust you. You will earn that trust by doing what I say without question. You will be my maid for as long as I tell you to. I will decide if and when to give you another body. Then and only then do you have any say in the matter. Do you understand?" Looking furious but realising how little choice he had in the matter, Lucan nodded sullenly. "Good. I'm glad that's settled. Conveniently for us the original Maria was still lactating when she was deported, so you'll also be Agent Z's wet nurse when he's a baby girl." -3- Johanna couldn't help herself. Unable to resist temptation she was once again standing in front of our hotel room's full length mirror, turning this way and that, admiring her beautiful body from every angle with unconcealed delight. She had only taken on Rachel Osterman's shapely young form not quite twelve hours ago so smiling into a mirror and seeing a face that had once graced the cover of 'Vogue' smiling back was still new to her, as was being young again. She had reversed half a century of aging, going from a 76 year-old to a 25 year-old, and I knew from experience how exhilarating that was. We had switched forms the last time my power activated, shortly after I woke up this morning, which meant I once again had her aged body. But not for much longer. "That was the five minute alarm," said Johanna, glancing at the wrist where she wore my watch. "Get the baby clothes please, Maria." "Yes, Mrs Osterman," said Maria, opening a ziploc bag and taking out a tiny pink dress. Johanna smoothed down the skirt of her tight red mini-dress, a garment which hugged every curve of her lovely figure, and with obvious reluctance turned away from the mirror. Taking a last inhale on the cigarette she was smoking she stubbed it out in an ashtray already home to several other golden filters. "It's a real pain to have to wait twelve hours between times we can use your power," she said. "It means each of the Cabal had to get close enough to the person they would eventually be replacing to be able to remove them for twenty four hours without anyone growing suspicious. Talking Rachel into coming to this East Coast environmental conference was easy - she did so love environmental causes - and saying she had come down with a twenty-four hour bug explained why she would be alone in her room for that time. Now that I'm her, I have to get my new husband into a position where he can be replaced by a Cabal member, which I should manage to do very soon. Thanks to you a third of our people are already in place. There are still some very big fish we haven't reeled in yet, like Lafayette J. Buffington III, but we have enough to begin making our mark." I felt the familiar tingling and my heart fell. I would be a baby girl again for several weeks at least, helpless, unable to form words, and totally dependent on others. "It'time for Elena to return," said Johanna. "Do it please, Maria." "Yes, Mrs Osterman," said her maid, touching the dress against my flesh. "And so it begins." "I suppose it's just a coincidence, you ending up with that body," I said. "Luck of the draw, and all." "Hardly," she said with a snort. "As leader of the Cabal I got to choose who I was going to be so of course I was going to keep the most beautiful of the female targets for myself. Leadership has its perks. Given the gender imbalance between the Cabal membership and our targets - whose wives or husbands also need to be replaced - some of our males will have to become women. They're not happy about this, but great causes sometimes require personal sacrifice. I got to choose who would become women, too. Another perk of leadership. Dick Norman was someone who tried to challenge that leadership. He actually had the gall to suggest the position should not be held by a woman. Well he's Mrs Heather Michaelson now, so I guess that means he'd have to rule himself out in future. Dick was ex-Army, still strong and in good shape for someone pushing sixty. He fancied himself something of a ladies' man. Now he's a plump, rather homely-looking forty year-old wife, which will teach him not to cross me. Their Malibu estate is only a few miles from the Osterman compound, so we'll be neighbours. Heather and Rachel will probably be bumping into each other a lot at social events. I'm sure seeing me younger, wealthier, more powerful and more beautiful than her will really rankle. I hope so, anyway." I remembered the Michaelsons. I had been used to substitute Cabal members for both of them five weeks ago. "I always hated being a kid," said Johanna, regarding my shrinking form thoughtfully, "hated having others telling me what to do. For as long as I can remember, *I* wanted to be the one telling others what to do. And now I am. Now let's all hush, and let the next thirty minutes pass in quiet contemplation." At the end of the half hour and once again a baby girl, I was diapered and dressed by Maria. We both knew what came next and neither of us was happy about it. "You need to feed Elena before we leave," said Johanna. "Please do so now, Maria." "Yes, Mrs Osterman," said Maria, sitting down on the bed, unbuttoning the top of her uniform and popping a milk-engorged breast out of its bra cup. She manouevered my mouth onto the nipple and I sucked on it hungrily, unable to resist the needs of my infant body. I glanced across at Johanna who was watching appreciatively, a big grin on her face. Johanna loved power above all else - had in fact just admitted as much - so seeing a man she had ordered to become her teenage maid breast-feeding another she was responsible for turning into a baby girl must be a real turn-on for her. By the look in her eyes and the way her nostrils were flaring I was pretty sure that watching our humiliation was getting her wet. When we were done she gave a deep sigh and held her arms out for Maria to pass me to her. "Time for you to find poor Johanna's body," she said. Maria nodded, and left the room. Having been through this before I knew what happened next. Maria would 'discover' the body of Johanna Karlen - who was actually the real Rachel Osterman, of course - along with a DVD suicide 'note' the real Johanna had recorded days ago. In this she would explain why she was taking her own life and also that she was leaving all her worldly goods to her "dear, dear friend" Rachel. And so Johanna Karlen would just be one more in a string of old Cold War-era intelligence officials to have decided to take her own life in recent weeks. If the police knew the connection between them, that they had all worked for Section 13, they might have found this suspicious, but they didn't and they never would. That information was way above the pay grade of any mere policeman, however high his rank. And so Section 13 was carrying out its decision to execute those they regarded as traitors, killing them with poison and disguising those deaths as suicides. Of course, Rachel Osterman had been no 'traitor'. She was just collateral damage, someone who needed to be replaced so they could get close to her husband. Nor was she the only innocent spouse to be caught in the net. Even if I agreed with what the Cabal were doing, I could not have gone along with killing innocents. "Aren't you just the cutest little girl!" said Johanna, rocking me and cooing. I knew what she was doing and tried desperately to stay awake, but what with the gentle rocking and having just been fed this proved impossible. By the time I awoke we were in a hired limo, being driven to an airfield. We drove right on to the field, pulling up beside a small private jet bearing the Rexel Burnham Dreier logo. As soon as Johanna, Maria and I were aboard the door was sealed and we taxied onto the runway. Within minutes we were airborne and heading for California. From the conversation between Maria and Johanna during the flight I gathered both were questioned by the police about the death of Johanna Karlen, but what with the DVD suicide note they accepted it was the suicide it appeared to be and the pair were allowed to leave. When we landed in California, several hours later, there was another limousine waiting for us. Standing beside it, waiting for his wife, was Kent Osterman. He was in his late-thirties, handsome, and had a small, neat beard. When we got off the jet he rushed over and embraced Johanna. "God, I've missed you, Rachel," he said, "and what an awful thing to happen! Poor Johanna. She's the last person I ever thought would take her own life." He looked over at me and Maria, a questioning expression on his face. "Oh, this is Johanna's devoted maid Maria and her baby daughter Elena," said Johanna. "With Johanna gone she was out of a job and possibly homeless. I knew how fond of them Johanna was so I said I'd give her a job with us. You don't mind, do you, darling?" "No, of course not, my love," said Kent. "I'm sure we can find her a position on the mansion's staff." The drive to the mansion was pretty uneventful, but the mansion itself was something else. One of several impressive buildings in its own compound, it was both tasteful and a concrete display of the phenomenal wealth of the mega-rich. In the mansion itself Johanna went off with Kent Osterman while Maria and I were shown our quarters, which included a room for me already equipped with various items of baby equipment including a bassinet. The next few days were a kind of tedious blur. Whenever my power activated my captors touched one of two dresses I'd worn a week apart to my skin. Which meant I was transforming into a version of Elena that was either a week older or a week younger, a difference no one would notice. It was the same trick I'd used when I was Eve Rogers, and it meant they could keep me as a baby forever if they wanted to. Being a baby is really boring, with far too much time spent with nothing interesting to do. Fortunately, babies sleep a lot so I was spared some of the tedium. Yes, you get lots of attention, especially from any women that are around, but there's nothing remotely stimulating about it. The rattles, toys and the like designed to stimulate a real baby did nothing for me. I found myself increasingly looking forward to feeding time, both for the pleasure that sustenance gives and because I knew how much it annoyed and embarrassed Maria. It was surprising how often Johanna managed to be present for those sessions, watching and smiling, clearly getting off on the whole thing, on our humiliation. It really *did* arouse her. The highlight of that first week was probably the party the Osterman's threw, which attracted loads of famous people from the worlds of business, Hollywood, politics, and the media. I could hear the party going on downstairs, but though I wasn't a part of it I got to meet several of the guests. As a servant Maria was working it, of course, but a baby in the house was too much for many of the female guests to resist and over the course of the evening Johanna brought several of them in to coo over me and tell me how adorable I was. Johanna looked amazing in her red, strapless Oscar de la Renta evening gown, her four inch Louboutins, and her diamonds. She was wearing her hair up, and it had been elaborately styled by a hair 'artist' who had spent most of the afternoon working on it. She was a picture of poise and elegance. Among the first she brought to see me were a couple I recognized as Jason Meade and Melissa Bentley, near neighbours of the Osterman's but with a fortune measured in hundreds of millions rather than in billions not rich or powerful enough to interest the Cabal. If I remembered rightly he was a bit of a slacker, a rich kid who had inherited his parents' fortune and never done a day's work in his life. She was obviously several years older than him, but I didn't know what her story was. "Ooh, she's so adorable!" said Melissa - God, I was getting sick of hearing that line! - as Johanna picked me up and handed me over for her to cuddle. "We adopted our own six-year old only last week, but I think I'd like a baby eventually, too." Then there were TV newsreporter Julia Tamm and her wife who came in with Cate Hunter the actress and supermodel, who was spectacularly beautiful. I mean now that Johanna had Rachel Osterman's body she was a real beauty, but Cate was in a whole other league. She and her actor boyfriend had moved here from England only a few months ago and they were already making a big splash in Hollywood. The women did the usual cooing and "she's adorable" stuff over me, but I couldn't help noticing a certain tension building. Julia Tamm couldn't take her eyes off Cate and her wife wasn't happy about it. "We should get back to the party and mix some more," she told Julia. "In a minute." "No, not in a minute. Now!" Julia caught the tone in her voice, shrugged apologetically to the others, then followed her out of the room. "Her wife obviously thinks she has the hots for you," chuckled Johanna. "I'm sure she does, but she's not my type." "You have a type when it comes to women?" "Oh yes, most definitely. There are a lot of beautiful women here, but I need a woman to have strength, intelligence, and an edge of danger to them, too. So the woman at your party who most caught my eye...is you." "But your boyfriend...." "...is very understanding. He appreciates that I have certain...needs." "I'm not gay." "I hear that from women a lot...usually just before we start making out." "That's just it. I've never made out with a woman before, not even in college." "Then don't you think it's about time you did?" She reached out and gently stroked Johanna's cheek, causing a visible shiver to run through her body. "My, you're very confident," said Johanna, breathing heavily. "Looking like this, why wouldn't I be? I don't do false modesty. I know that when they look at me most men and - if they're honest with themselves - most women, gay or not, want me." I could believe it. She was so beautiful it took your breath away. Johanna seemed mesmerised by her too and offered no resistance, her lips parting as Cate slowly slid an arm around her waist, pulling her in closer, and kissed her. "I have a husband," Johanna croaked, in a last feeble attempt at resistance. "Yet here you are, with me kissing you and you kissing me back. Do you want me to stop?" "I...no." With that even the pretence of resistance was gone, and their hesitant kissing became more urgent, more passionate. Had I not been in the room I think they might have torn each other's clothes off and made love right there on the floor. "Not here," gasped Johanna, pulling away, "not now." "Then when?" said Cate, also gasping, clearly highly aroused. "Tomorrow. Do you play tennis?" "Yes. Why?" "My husband leaves on a three-day business trip tomorrow. Come over to play tennis. Then after our game we can shower together and see what happens." "It's a date. God, I need a cigarette!" "Me, too. And a Scotch. Let's go find a table out by the pool. But first we really need to repair our lipstick...." They left the room together to rejoin the party, holding hands, leaving me alone with my thoughts. More than ever I wanted to escape but there was no way I could unless my captors got careless - they never did - or someone else rescued me. And even if they somehow knew of my predicament, who was there to rescue me? I was about to find out. -4- The next afternoon, after her lovemaking session with Cate Hunter, Johanna came into my room and stood next to my bassinet, smiling down at me, face flushed and looking happy. "I love my new life," she sighed. "I'm young, healthy, wealthy, powerful and beautiful. And now I have a lover who most people would give their right arm just to be near. What a wonderful young woman Cate is - absolutely delicious! If she's typical of her generation I'm going to really enjoy being young again. And with Kent about to be replaced by someone who will do whatever I ask, someone whose relationship with me is strictly professional, I'll be able to have her openly stay the night with me whenever she wants to. Who knows, maybe I'll get her to bring that handsome boyfriend of hers along too and we can have a threesome." "Oh, I didn't tell you the substitution was ready to go, did I? Silly me. My husband is due back the day after tomorrow, so tomorrow we set things in motion. We start the day by transforming you into Kent Osterman first thing in the morning using his clothing and keep you tied-up, gagged, and locked away. To explain away the absence of Elena, Maria and her baby will be taking two days off to visit a fictional relative. It will of course be a doll she carries out with her. In the afternoon a team of decorators will arrive to fix one of the rooms. These will all be Section 13 agents, one of them a member of the Cabal. The nice thing about a team of tradesman rather than an individual is that one of them can slip away without being noticed by the staff and hideawy in the mansion when they leave. That one will be the Cabal member and that evening, when your power activates again, you and he will swap forms so that he becomes a doppelganger of my husband. When the real Kent Osterman arrives back the following day, I'll get you and him together so that you and he swap forms, giving him the Cabal member's original form, at which point the actual Cabal member, whose been in hiding, takes his place while you, now a copy of Kent, are again bound, gagged, and concealed. The new Kent Osterman will call in a Section 13 team who will smuggle the transformed Kent out and take him to his appointment with suicide and the unfortunate death by poison of yet another old Cold Warrior. That same evening Maria will return, a piece of your baby clothing will be pressed to your flesh, and baby Elena will be back. Working out the logistics of these switches is a pain, but the nice thing about this one is that - so far as anyone will know - Kent Osterman will only be out of public view for thirty minutes. The Cabal member taking Kent Osterman's place is a subordinate and totally loyal to me. He might appear to be in charge but I'll be the one pulling the strings. So two days from now my life truly will be perfect." Johanna looked at me and sighed wistfully. "It didn't have to be this way you know," she said, sounding genuinely sad. "I intended for you to take Kent's place and to rule at my side, Paul. From watching you over the years I knew that Rachel Osterman was your type of woman physically, and I was sure that the combination of her body and my mind would make me your ideal woman. With your power we could have been immortal, never dying, always young. Why did you have to run, to betray us, to betray me?" Wow, I didn't see that coming. She'd been in love with me, or rather with the man I used to be when she knew me! And then there was that bit about 'ruling' at her side. I guess she was looking out for number one after all, despite all her protestations about doing this for America. Or maybe it was both. Maybe she saw them as the same thing, that her ruling the Cabal and the Cabal controlling what happened in America *was* best for the country. "As delightful as today has been," she said, "I think I need some air, and you do too. I'll have Charles bring the car around and we'll go for a walk in the park." Charles was a chauffeur and one of several Osterman staff who was also secretly a Section 13 agent. When Johanna carried me out to the limo he dutifully opened the door for us and loaded my baby carriage into the back. Johanna seemed to have a specific park in mind, about a twenty minute drive from the mansion, and directed Charles to it. "Pull up at the curb, " she said when we got there. "I want to stretch my legs and give the baby some air." Charles did as she asked. While Johanna climbed out of the vehicle with me, he went to the rear of the limo and took out the baby carriage, folding it open so that Johanna could strap me into it. "Thank you, Charles, that will be all," Johanna told him. "Wait here for me." "Wait, ma'am," he said, "I should come into the park with you. There are always supposed to be two people with the asset whenever he's outside the mansion." "Yes, I know - I made that rule. Which means I can break it. This is a small park with just this one entrance. No one can get in or out without you seeing them and it's a full two hours 'til the asset's power activates again so he can't pull a switch with me." Charles didn't look very happy, but Johanna was his boss so he nodded and, reluctantly, let us go into the park alone. I was stunned by this. It was the first time Johanna had broken security protocol since I was first taken. It was a surprising lapse, not that I was in any position to take advantage of it. Johanna strolled into the park, pushing the baby carriage before her and occasionally cooing at me as we progressed around it. After a few minutes we stopped at a bench located in front of some bushes. Partially concealed by these was a small wooden hut, presumably used by the park-keeper to store his tools. No sooner had Johanna sat down on this than she suddenly looked up in surprise then slumped forward, unconscious. There was a small, feathered dart sticking from the back of her neck. Before I knew what was happening, a small brown-haired girl who looked to be around six years old appeared from behind and reached in to touch me. Where her fingers brushed my skin I felt a familiar tingling. "We were right," she said to someone outside my line of vision, "it's definitely him." She took the handle of the baby carriage and pushed me up the short path to the park-keeper's shed, while an equally brown-haired woman in her late twenties put her arms under Johanna's and dragged her up the path behind us. As soon as we were inside the cramped confines of the shed the woman laid Johanna down on the floor and said: "Do it!" "My pleasure," said the girl, who then touched Johanna's face, after which she started undressing herself while the woman undressed Johanna. Who were these people? And what was going on? I soon got my answer, and it shocked me to my core. As the undressing continued I realised that Johanna and the girl were slowly changing, she getting smaller as the girl grew bigger. It couldn't be, and yet within a few more minutes it was obvious that it was. Johanna and the little girl were swapping forms. Which meant the girl had the same power I did!! "Hello, Luke," said the woman, coming over to the baby carriage and smiling down at me. Luke? Who was Luke? Then she spoke the words that turned everything I thought I knew about myself upside down: "If what I think happened to you did happen you won't remember me. My real name is Sarah, and I'm your wife. We've been married for over three hundred years." - 5 - "See, Charles?" said the new Rachel Osterman, having wheeled me out of the park and over to the limo. "I told you nothing would happen." ""Very good, ma'am," he replied, folding up the baby carriage after she had lifted me from it, completely oblivious to the substitution that had taken place, "I'm relieved nothing did. When you were gone more than half an hour I started to get a little worried." As we climbed into the back of the limo, Rachel winked at me. I'm sure it was meant to be reassuring, but there was too much happening too fast that I had no control over for that to put me at ease. I glanced out of the window in time to see Sarah leave the park, carrying the still unconscious Johanna and heading over to a parked car. Anyone looking at them would see nothing more suspicious than a mother carrying her sleeping six year-old child. "I want to stop in at the mall on the way back to pick up a few baby items," said Rachel, as the limo pulled away. "Of course, ma'am," replied Charles, "though I'll really need to come in with you this time." "Naturally. I'd expect no less." The mall was pretty much indistinguishable from any dozen others and as soon as Charles had parked the limo we headed for Babies R Us. This time I was strapped to Rachel's chest with a harness and she went around the store dropping various items into a trolley being pushed around by Charles, who dutifully trailed along behind us, until she announced: "I need to pee so I'm going into the store's bathroom. I should only be a few minutes." Charles nodded, seating himself on a chair outside the door while we went inside. As soon as we had, Rachel went over to the sinks and unfastened the small window above them that looked out into the multi- storey car park. Waiting on the other side was Sarah. "Be quick," she said. "We only have five minutes at most to pull this off." Releasing me from the harness, Rachel passed me through the window to Sarah, who then carried me across to her car. Behind us I saw Rachel squeezing through the tiny window, having obviously climbed up on the sinks to do so. In the back seat of the car a still unconscious Johanna was held in place by a seat belt. Next to her was a baby seat, into which I was quickly and securely strapped. Then Sarah got into the driver's seat just as Rachel reached the passenger side. Climbing in she quickly donned dark glasses and a blonde wig, and we roared off down the exit ramp and away from the mall. They had done it! They had rescued me from the Cabal, but now what? I soon learned the answer. We drove out of town on the Pacific Coast Highway, eventually turning off it up a dirt track that led over a low hill and which brought us to a small wooden cabin. As we pulled up outside it Rachel glanced down at her wristwatch - my watch - and smiled. "It just started vibrating," she said. "That mean's father's power will activate in five minutes." 'Father'? So 'Rachel' was my daughter? Given her own powers, that made sense, was in fact the best explanation for them. "Good," said Sarah, unstrapping Johanna and lifting her out of the rear seat. "I'll get things set up inside, then we'll restore him to adulthood." While Sarah carried Johanna into the cabin, Rachel took a sportsbag out of the car's trunk. Unzipping this she pulled out a man's outfit consisting of a T-shirt, jeans, sneakers, socks, and shorts, all of which she laid out on the seat beside me. I'd have preferred to be a woman, but becoming adult again was more important than my gender. When the moment arrived she touched the T-shirt to my face and I felt the familiar jolt. Never before had it felt so good. By the time Sarah returned Rachel had got me out of my baby clothes and put me into the T-shirt and shorts, which I was slowly but steadily growing into. "Here's how this will work," she said. "The kid is still unconscious but now tied to a chair in the middle of the cabin with her back to the window. When she wakes she won't remember what happened and the only person who will have contact with her is 'Rachel'. We don't want her to know anyone else is here so we'll wait outside very quietly, listening in. As soon as Luke is fully adult we wake her up." And that's what happened. I had questions but I decided they could wait until we were away from this place. Sarah and I watched through the window as 'Rachel' waved smelling salts under Johanna's nose. Not being able to turn round and see the window she had no idea we were there. "Wha...wh'appen?" she said, as she groggily came to. "Hello, Johanna," said Rachel. "How....? Wait, you stolen my form but I'm a little girl not a baby. If you've pulled two switches on me I must've been out twenty fours hours at least." "Barely two, actually, and you've only been through one transformation." "That's not possible!" Johanna protested. "Your powers don't work that way, Paul!" "Yet here we are, with me Rachel Osterman and you a six year-old kid. You'll see I'm not lying when someone arrives to release you. Check the time with them and do the math for yourself. Right, I'm leaving now. When I'm clear I'll phone your people and let them know where you are. Oh, and you'd better get used to being a kid because I'm the only one who could restore you to adulthood and you're never going to see me again. I'll ditch Rachel Osterman's form as soon as I can and then you'll have no way of finding me." So saying, Rachel got up and left. Outside, we three quietly got into the car, Rachel donned her wig and shades again, and we took off, heading for Los Angeles where we could lose ourselves among its millions. Rachel dropped up off in front a small motel in Sherman Oaks. Sarah retrieved a small briefcase from the trunk, and then Rachel sped away. I followed Sarah up to a first floor room, for which she had a key. Inside I dropped down on the bed while she took the chair, placing the briefcase on the floor beside her. "OK," I said, "I've been very patient but now it's time for you to spill. Start with that bit about us being married for three hundred years." Sarah smiled at me, and began her tale. "The night we first met is the night my entire family and everyone else in our village died in a fire that burned it to ashes," said Sarah. "And if I hadn't been away from the village at the time I would surely have perished with them. As it is I am the last survivor of my village. It exists now only in my memories." "What was its name?" I asked. "It was called Chapford, and its fate is usually regarded as little more than a footnote to the events that happened in nearby Salem a dozen years earlier. I doubt if many people today have even heard of the village. Chapford had been established in 1670, and was named for the man who owned the land it sat on, Lord William Chapford. This was one of several large tracts he owned in the area, though he never visited these or any of his other possessions in the colonies, which were managed for him by his agents. At the time of the fire, Chapford was home to around fifteen families, representing a population of over a hundred people, all of whom perished. Except for me. It was September 3rd, 1704. What happened that night I shall never forget however long I might live. "I'd been sent out to find kindling that afternoon. Because areas close to the village had been plucked clean already I ventured further from it than was usually the case and so found myself in a stretch of woods I was not familiar with. In a moment of carelessness I tripped on a tree-root and knocked myself senseless on its trunk. When I eventually came to darkness had fallen and I found myself lost and alone. That's when I saw the light suddenly appear in the sky. It was a fireball, rushing towards me. It crashed to earth maybe a hundred yards from me and I could see its light through the trees. I probably should have been fearful, but I was not. I made my way to that place, to a small clearing where several bushes had caught alight, illuminating the scene. Lying in the clearing was a oddly-garbed man, his clothes still smouldering. I rushed over to tend to him, giving no heed for the moment to the strange circumstances of his arrival. "I was then sixteen and judged him to be four or five years older. He was sandy-haired and good-looking, slim and fit. As I turned him over so he grabbed my arm and said a single word - a name - before passing out." "What was that name?" "'Stark'. It didn't mean anything to me at the time, of course, but it does now." "That cult," I said, nodding, "the Church of Stark. But it can't be that. The church only really got started a few years ago, after the assassination of Karl Stark live on national TV, and the events you're describing happened over three centuries ago. Do you have any proof that's who was meant?" "No, only my conviction that I'm right. Compared to some of the things I've seen since that night, this is a very minor leap to make. I tended the stranger until he came to an hour or so later, marvelling at his stange garb and at the image burned into the palm of his right hand, like a cattle brand. He asked where he was so I told him, but the name meant nothing to him. I asked him who he was and how he came to appear in the clearing in such a fashion. He couldn't answer either of my questions. That was when he realised his memory had fled. I told him we could find help for him back at Chapford and so we set off for the village. By the time we reached it the sun was coming up and I could see that Chapford was gone, reduced to ashes. I called out for my family and my friends but no-one answered. I ran through the ashes, frantically searching for them. Only then did I smell it: the stink of brimstone. The stranger caught me as I ran, holding me in his arms as I sobbed for my lost family. He - you - held me for hours." "Given the nature of my arrival did you ever think I might have anything to do with the destruction of Chapford." "Not even once. I couldn't tell you why but I knew that you were a good man, and so you proved to be. We left the village then and never returned. Revisiting the place where my family had perished would have been too painful. We settled in Pennsylvania and I named you Luke after my favourite book of the Bible, because back then I had favourite book and still believed in the Bible. We acquired some land, you built us a house, we both worked the fields, and two days before my seventeenth birthday we were wed. A year later I gave birth to twins, a boy and a girl. That's when things got strange again." "How so?" "When you picked them up, about an hour or so after delivering them, the brand on the palm of your hand started to glow, then it faded away completely, leaving clear, unmarked flesh. You placed our babies back in the crib you'd made for them and came over to where I lay in our bed, still exhausted from their birth. I reached up to examine your hand. As we touched so we both felt a strange jolt and a tingling feeling that ran through our whole bodies." "It was my power activating." "For the first time, yes. Not knowing what was happening we were both fearful, as we each transformed into the other. Where I grew energised so you grew weaker, my exhaustion from the birth becoming yours. I helped you into our bed and we exchanged clothing, marveling at what had happened and wondering how and why it had. Not that we had too long to think about it at first because our children let it be known they were hungry. And so you were the first to breast feed them. Despite our fearfulness and the strangeness of our situation, I don't think I've ever seen you happier. Your face assumed an expression I can only describe as 'beatific', and I wondered if our situation was the will of God, if perhaps he had decided you would make the better mother and so switched us. We assumed the switch was permanent of course, but when we touched twelve hours later we switched back - and back again twelve hours later. We gradually figured out how your powers worked, the timing and the like, and then got a shock the first time you touched my clothing rather than my flesh and turned into a copy of me. That was the first time I ever lay with another woman. You were eager to try it out, and though you might have turned into a copy of me I reasoned you were still my husband and so it was my wifely duty." "Seriously? That's how you thought back then." "They were different times. The idea that women could assert themselves in marriage was not widely held." "So you didn't enjoy it?" "I didn't say that. It was...different. You were softer, gentler, yet still at heart the man I loved, despite your altered appearance. It became an occasional part of our lovemaking, as did me as a man making love to you as a woman. The one combination neither of us was interested in was both of us being male. Having lain together as women we could have no moral objection to doing so as men, yet it never appealed. On the odd occasions we were both so it was because of a major situation on the farm that required the strength of two men." "Wait, back up a bit," I said. "Early on, when we didn't know how my power worked, I must've have touched our children while it was active. Did I switch forms with them?" "No, never. They're as immune to your power as you are to theirs. When your power is active and you touch each other all you feel is a slight tingle." "In the park," I said, "that's how you made sure it was me." "That's right. The children had a fairly normal childhood, or as normal as you can have when your parents sometimes switch places and you also sometimes have either two fathers or two mothers. They knew to keep this from other people, but since we had few near neighbours no one else ever found out about it. That's how things were until the twins hit puberty. Being a girl, our daughter Faith came to puberty before her brother and so she was the first to manifest her power, as we discovered when she touched me and we switched forms. We also discovered that she - and later her brother, too - had more control over her power than you did. Yes, you both need twelve hours to pass between uses of your power, but where yours activates automatically at the end of that time, hers only came on when she wanted it to." "That would make living a normal life so much easier," I said, wistfully. "A few months later our son David's power activated and it was he who switched with me. Not surprisingly our children were eager to explore their new-found ability but I was the only one in our family their power would work on and I wasn't about to let them keep switching with me. Fortunately, their power could also lock onto the spoor from clothing as yours does, and though they could not affect you or each other directly they could copy those forms from our clothing. So sometimes we'd have two daughters, sometimes two sons, and sometimes as when a barn needed raising all three of us would be copies of you. On one occasion, when a local boy was bothering Faith, you took her form and beat the snot out of him. Though you had no memory of where you'd learned such things, you knew how to defeat much larger opponents." "So that was Faith who helped you rescue me?" "No, David, your son. He left us to return to his husband." "His...husband?" "Yes. For the past few years David has been living as a woman, as a wife and mother. And I must say, it suits him." "A mother? So I'm a grandfather?" "Not biologically, no. Both Faith and David are inferti