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Part 7: The Endgame We drove into Captain Hernandez's camp. It was a collection of fairly ratty tents and military vehicles from every decade but this one. A bus, used as a makeshift gate blocking the entrance to the camp, rolled away at our arrival. In terms of real distance, it was quite close to both the prison and the mansion. Only rugged mountain terrain kept it from being a short trip. Hernandez was sitting on a cot pulled from inside his tent, undoubtedly to take advantage of the cool evening air. He didn't seem surprised to see the Mercedes arrival. I swung out legs first, making sure that the people standing around, and particularly Captain Hernandez, got a good look at how long and shapely they were bare legged in these platform sandals. The red shine from my pedicure nearly glowed in the early evening light. In what I hoped was not a too obvious move, I dropped the tan purse, bending down to pick it up in such a manner that the Captain had a good look at the massive mounds beneath my loosely buttoned blouse. I knew that I would not be doing anything as radical as I had back in the prison, joining in a threesome, or pressing his shaft between my full lips, letting him fuck my mouth until he blew so much sperm down my throat that it trickled out my mouth across my lips. But I did learn back at the prison he is more pliable, more agreeable, when sexually charged. A small group of soldiers formed around us as we stepped out of the car. They seemed appreciative of my show. Anke Janssen, on the other hand, gripped her weapon for a sense of security. This seemed to amuse the Captain, "You have the right idea chica," he told the Dutch host, "if they get out of line, please shoot one. Our rations are running low anyway." A handful few of his men, those who spoke English was my guess, laughed at his joke. He turned to me. "Ms. Miranda Cable, husband of Charles Cable, has come all the way up here to wish me luck in my upcoming assault on the seat of corrupt power? Or do you have something else in mind? I suspect something else." He said something to me in Spanish and looked expectantly. Crap. Miranda had let me know she had met him previously, but she failed to mention she spoke Spanish. A fairly large oversight. "Captain," I said, "English please. I prefer that the fewer of your men understand what we are saying, the better." His eyebrow raised quizzically. He was intrigued, but satisfied with my answer. "No, of course. Join me in my tent?" I indicated by raising the palm of my hand to Anke, that she should remain outside. She took another look at the soldiers gathered around her and gave me a most non appreciative look. But she was deeply in the cult of ... how would describe this to the others ... Cult of Transgendered Perfection? ... to be allowed near any sensitive conversations. She had helped me - as Bree - escape because she'd feared excommunication and punishment from this cult. I would have no such card to play here if she were to get wind what Charles Cable's "wife" was really up to. He gestured for me to sit on an old wooden desk chair situated next to his rickety desk covered with papers and maps. "I imagined if you were a woman with a spine, you would be up here to see me sooner than later." He laughed at his humor. "And I also suspect you are going to offer me a better deal than your husband." "Perhaps. But what makes you think so?" I was taken back a little with his candid astuteness. I expected to have to go into a long explanation of my arrival. He laughed again, "We are not the backward peasants you think we are. We have the internet, running water and everything. I know who has the money in your family. It is not Charles. I also saw your husband in this very camp not too long ago. You know he travels with a Chef? A beautiful, impossibly tall woman. Stern sharp face though, not really my type. I like my women a little less angry. But I guess your husband requires ... meals ... " he chuckled at his allusion, "to be prepared at any time." He leaned back and continued, "Now the times you and I spoke, you struck as a tough smart woman. Someone who would only pretend to tolerate such humiliations until you could fix them. So, tell me about this better deal that your husband surely won't like." Captain Hernandez was not a good person. In fact, morally Captain Hernandez wasn't even in the same zip code as a decent human being, but right now I couldn't help but like him. "I'm surprised you're so willing, eager even, to help me." The rebel leader smiled slyly. "Eager? No, you are mistaken. I don't care about your marriage, revenge, or even about the two of you, to be honest. I care about the revolution. And if you're plan helps our cause more than your husband's, the fall out is none of my concern." He reached for a cigar and lit it, puffing pleasurably. "First thing I do? Make good with Cuba to make sure these things keep flowing across our borders. Now, Ms. Miranda Cable. Let's cut to the chase, as you Americans say. Tell me how you are going to help my cause." "It's very rewarding. And very simple. But it will require just a degree of play acting. You will recall the mansion is heavily armed ...." **************************** We spent the night as guests of the Captain, I would have preferred to leave after our meeting, there was still much to do, but Hernandez assured me between the handful of desperate bandits left in the mountains and the dogs who grow bolder at night, I was better off here. We managed to get back to the mansion the next morning without any problems, I thanked the stars the old car made it the entire trip. I parked the Mercedes two hundred yards from the entrance of the house , walking the rest of the way in hoping it wouldn't create some questions in Anke's mind. But either through politeness or discipline, she never indicated anything was amiss. Anke and I arrived in the hallway between Miranda's quarters and the rooms I had requested Samantha, the doll from the prison, and our respective genetic cell mates, Fiona and Wendy, be delivered. I was going to send Anke back to the prison, but with my new found knowledge concerning the motivation of the cultist hosts, I thought it was better she remained up here not discussing her trip to the rebel camp with others of her kind. I opened the door with Miranda's universal card key - a key which worked everywhere except the handful of places Charles deemed it shouldn't - and the women inside instantly stood up. I was happy to see them and fought the urge to say or do something to show my great relief. They had, undoubtedly at Samantha's prompting, changed out of their prison garb into something more comfortable and fitting for being out of the cells. I noted with some amusement, not one was wearing shoes, greatly relieved to be out of the skyscraper platforms for an extended period of time. Wendy stood next to Samantha, with Fiona standing behind them a few yards away. The Boston girl's proximity to the Filipino doll told me their relationship may never be intimate, like mine was with Samantha before my escape, but there was certainly a thawing of hostilities. Perhaps working together in the days since I'd left brought them somewhat closer. They were not as enthused to see me as I was them. Where I was being reunited with familiar faces from the cells, they were not. They were staring at Anke, an agent of their captors, and an unknown woman who having brought this particular host through the door, was unlikely to be a liberator. But to their credit, they all held their faces still and waited to see how this would play out. How would this play out, I wondered? I had to be Miranda Cable, ease their tensions, while having Anke believe I was still very much moving things along as Charles would want them. Introductions first though. They had no idea who I was for certain. "Hello," I began, "My name is Miranda Cable. Along with Charles my husband, I run this place. I think if you obey our rules up here you will find it very comfortable. For now, just stay in this room, relax, help yourself to anything you find. Perhaps you know our host here, Anke Janssen? I am going to leave Anke here to make sure your stay here is enjoyable and that you not wander about in case I need to find you again. You'll excuse the fact that it is locked from the outside. That's just the nature of these doors." I tried to use the language of the hosts which implied captivity without ever overtly saying anything about captivity. But I needed to let them know, subtly, that things were okay so they did nothing rash like bash Anke over the head, take her key card and try to escape. I turned to Wendy who had been studying me the closest. She seemed to be the one who guessed I was Miranda Cable upon entering the room. "I realize you would be anxious to move around and see more, being as you just left that horrible gray place. But trust me, Sunshine, it is best to stay here. I think you'll find it fit for a princess compared to the prison." I used our nicknames for each other as touchstones, probably without the subtlety needed, hoping they understood. Wendy and Samantha caught my code, I could see the flicker of puzzlement, then acknowledgement cross each of their faces. Luckily, Anke seemed not to, but it was always difficult to get a read on her. She may know not all is as it seems. And Fiona, simple Fiona, was barely paying attention to what I said. She seemed more interested in the paintings adorning the walls. "I will be back to discuss your roles here a bit later. It was a pleasure meeting you." I stepped out to cross the hall to Miranda's apartment. Opening the door and walking in I saw no sign of Miranda. I called her name several times but got no answer. Despite having the low barriers serving as walls which allowed me to see the distance of the massive apartment, I still walked from area to area to see if she were sitting, or perhaps sleeping somewhere out of my field of view. She was nowhere to be seen. I went back to her office area and my blood ran cold. Her desk had been forced opened. I knew from discussions there was nothing of our plans there, those were all kept in our heads, but something was definitely wrong. I traveled to the bedroom area and saw the bed had been tossed, as was the nightstand. Someone had been searching through her things. I needed to find Miranda quickly, not just for her safety, but there were threads of our conspiracy that needed to be tied up by her. The clock was ticking, and if the pieces of this puzzle were not all in place, this would go very badly, not just for me, but nearly everyone on this island. For Miranda, it may have already done so. It was time for me step up my role of Miranda and see the Endgame through. ************************* I was desperate. With Miranda missing, and the plan was in motion at that very moment. I needed to move quickly and smartly. I rounded up Kimmi, the woman who was surgically altered to be more than a doll, and told her she needed to go with me to living area next to Miranda's apartment. She was perplexed why the head of the household suddenly wanted to deal with someone of her lowly station, but didn't ask questions. Walking back with her I turned the corner to find myself face to face with the two security guards I had met upon my arrival - Jayla, the short squat muscular one, and the tall English woman from Liverpool. I had an idea how to make this plan work without Miranda. I sent Kimmi along her way to wait for me by Miranda's apartment. "You two, I'm sorry, I don't remember your names." The two security guards introduced themselves formally. I made small talk with them very briefly asking about their jobs, how long they worked there and general feeling about the mansion. Their actual answers were of no interest to me. I knew that Charles had security watching me ... watching Miranda, more accurately ... but Miranda had allies among them. These two could be either one, or simply out of the loop altogether. I made note of how freely the information came from this security personnel. Were they speaking as though I were one of the powers of the house? Or were they moving around certain information because I was labeled a threat? I determine after a few questions, hopefully correctly, that they were neither my ... Miranda's ... nor Charles' allies. They were simply not in the know.. I made up my mind. "I'm going to tell you something shocking. Very shocking. And I will not expect you to believe me or act upon what I tell you until you see the proof for yourselves." The tall guard from Liverpool shifted uncomfortably. She clearly did not like the direction of this conversation. Jayla, the shorter of the two women, seemed excited. I took a deep breath and went for it, spinning my deception, "I take it you are familiar with Lucinda Lilly, Chef Lilly?" I knew they were. They had told me as much during my first unpleasant encounter with them as Bree. Even if I hadn't known previously, the sour face the English woman made confirmed it. "I will be frank here. She is sleeping with my husband, Charles. This is why a chef and not able security people such as yourselves, was able to run this entire house; was able to do what she pleased including abusing the women and dolls here." I was playing to their egos, sense of right, and dislike of Lucinda Lilly. I continued, "She and my husband are planning to take my money and take off. But not before destroying the evidence of this house and the prison below. I'm not sure what you are told the motivation for these dolls staying here is, but it is not likely true. They are captives. This place, these transformations, that prison, would destroy Charles if it came to the light of day. So he is removing it from the map." They remained silent, but I could feel the intensity of emotion flowing through them. This was a great deal of insane information coming at once. But this was a very insane place. I went on, "You didn't think a situation like this would be allowed to exist forever did you? If you leave these grounds and look down at the prison, you will see the hosts arming themselves with all the dolls herded into the courtyard being guarded by a just a handful. If you drive to the top of the hill to our west, you will see a rebel force heading for us. Charles paid them to do so." "Rebels? Hosts?" Jayla asked. It was the first any of them had spoken since I began weaving my lie. "What does he hope to achieve?" "For there to be a massive firefight and the rebels to destroy the hosts, you, and everything in between. It's very simple really." I answered. Jayla was not convinced, "The rebels have been a threat the entire time we've been here, this place is massively fortified. We have better weapons, strong big walls. Unless they're bringing tanks they don't have ..." I laughed in what I hoped was a condescending way. "I think you will find that Charles has given the rebels override codes to the security systems. They will waltz right in here as if these walls were made of rice paper. You will not be able to hold off the hosts either. They will be flooding here soon through the tunnels and will be very difficult to deal with once they are in the house. Think about it. You will have armed hosts in the house and rebels in the front yard. Security will find themselves as fodder standing in the way." It was the Liverpool woman who responded, "Tunnels, what tunnels?" I pointed to the floor, "Below us, there are tunnels between the prison and this house. They haven't been used in forever.." They were slightly ashen, but wide eyed. I had their attention now. "There may be a way out of this. Just maybe. But you will have to do as I say. And trust me." "I'm all ears, love," said the taller security guard. Good time to set this in action. I gave them their orders, "One of you is going to search this house, room by room, and find Charles. Arrest him. Bring him to my room. Beat him senseless if you must, but do not let him get away. Do not believe anything that he says. He will lie to save his skin, believe your eyes instead. The other of you will need to gather security forces, ones you can trust. One half of the force will need to seal the tunnel from this side. The other half will need seal the tunnels from the other side. We'll trap the hosts underground and they will never meet the rebels, or you, in battle." "And the rebels?" Jayla asked, "You said they had our codes, or disabled them or something, what's to stop them from slaughtering us?" I smiled, "Don't worry about the rebels. I'll handle the rebels by simply giving them something they want. Charles promised them money. I'll give them one better. Now go, time is wasting." The two looked at each other for a quick moment. If I hadn't thought they took me seriously before, I knew it now. They ran. ******** It took me a short while to find Kimmi as she had made a wrong turn and was waiting in the wing of the house reserved for guests. I guided her back to the room where the women had been waiting since I had told them not to leave. Upon entering they stopped what they were doing, and stood up approaching me. Their faces held questions that were going unasked in the presence of Anke. They knew not to trust her. "Anke," I turned to the host presenting her with Miranda's most sincere face; one that we had practiced together untold times. "Something is going on around here and I'm not entirely sure what. I need someone I can trust to stand outside the door and keep watch and let me know if anything needs to come to my attention." Anke nodded dutiful stepping outside. She was a cult member and a prison guard. She was a woman who knew how take an order. Wendy stepped forward so quickly, that I was forced to take a step back. "Ms. Cable. I need to know ... there was doll by the name of Bree, you said some things earlier that led me to believe that you had known ..." I held my hand up for her to stop, "I'll tell you everything I can right now, which will not be everything you need to know." Nor could it be, I thought to myself. The entire crazy story of becoming Miranda Cable was an entire afternoon of explanation by itself, "As we speak there are many things in motion. All of them are tied to your freedom, whether you stay here, or go back where you came from." At this, Fiona exploded with tears of relief borne from an impossibly long stretch in captivity. I continued, "Bree is safe. She wanted me to let you know that. I don't know if you will be able to ever see her again, but she is safe. She told me a lot about you all, in some great detail, so I feel as if I know you, even if you have never met me. But enough of that, time is burning." "Kimmi this is everyone, everyone this is Kimmi. Kimmi these are girls, doll and otherwise, from the prison. That'll have to do, biographies can be exchanged later. Kimmi, this is a copy of my keycard. It will get you anywhere in the building. Gather up a couple of the wait staff that you trust, and go find Lucinda Lilly. I picked you because outside of the kitchen staff, you would know where best to locate her. Here's the tough part. Once you find her, I need you to subdue her and bring her here." Kimmi seemed amused "You mean like knock her out? Because I've always wanted to knock that woman out." she said in her light southern twang. "Like knock her out. Yes, if necessary. If she is with ... my husband then just watch where she goes and I'll have security handle it. Charles likes to be armed." At the mention of the Lucinda Lilly with Miranda's husband, Kimmi grew embarrassed for me ... for Miranda. I had to remember these would be exceedingly uncomfortable circumstances for Miranda. "Okay, when Kimmi leaves the rest of you girls sit tight. I'll be back when this is over and we'll be able to talk about your futures. But we still have to get through this. Wish me luck." I stepped into the hall with Kimmi and Anke grabbed my arm. "Ms. Cable! Ms. Cable! Something is happening. I think its the rebels, there are people running back and forth ..." I took her hand gently and removed it from my arm. "It's okay Anke, it's under control." Kimmi looked genuinely frightened, not knowing what was going on, "Kimmi. It's okay. Just stick to the plan." I was running now. I needed to get to the front gate in time. And I definitely needed to get there before Charles. I was still wearing the clothes from yesterday, although they still looked relatively fresh, but were not cut out for running. The balance required running in the platform sandals and the heavy movement of my massive bosom threatening to break loose from my brassiere, made it an uncomfortable, near painful jog. There was no way I was going to sprint. Born male, I had never worn a sports bra in my life, but had never wanted one more. I pushed through the massive front doors of the mansion into front yard situated behind the concentric circle of walls. It reminded me more of measures to prevent the sacking of a castle more than any modern security measures. The security guards were lined up, armed, waiting for the rebel onslaught. By my own estimation, and the look of readiness surrounding me, the rebels could not be far away. I scanned the situation quickly and saw no sign of Charles. Thank goodness I arrived here first. Charles would complicate the situation greatly. It was time to end this. I grabbed the first security officer I saw. "Whoever runs this perimeter security detail, have them stand down. Weapons away. I mean completely away. I am going to speak with the rebel Captain just outside this gate. Have someone escort me." "I will Ms. Cable." It was Jayla. "Jayla. Good to see you. What is the situation down below?" She looked proud, "Couldn't have gone easier. We sealed the exit and entrances, and they're trapped down there like rats." I nodded approvingly. It worked just as designed. Warden Orly sent them into the tunnels claiming it was the desire of Charles, and they ended up sealed down there out of the picture until I decided otherwise. "Good" I told her, "Have someone else escort me out. I need you to make sure each host is disarmed, carefully one by one, and brought here to see this. In fact, I want every person who works in this house to be here in the front yard. Prisoners as well. Send word to Warden Orly to get them up here. This yard is big enough, and everyone involved needs to see this." I walked out of the front gate, hopping into the Mercedes which I parked earlier. I drove to where the Captain waited for me. He was sitting atop a jeep with a bottle of wine and two glasses in his hand. Inappropriate, yet somehow fitting. I turned back toward the house, determining we were out of binocular range. "Please. Although half a glass, I'm a major lightweight these days." He poured half a glass as instructed, "Surprising," he noted, "it was not long ago I watch you put down a bottle and not look tipsy. So, how long do these tough negotiations last?" He sipped his wine, "Not very. I just need enough time to move everyone into position. Then we can do our little play." I turned more serious, not forgetting that Captain Hernandez was no man of honor. "Now the real terms, not the play acting terms we're about to do, remain the same: I give you all the weapons from the prison and mansion you can haul out of here to carry on your war. If you succeed," I sighed and took a breath. Miranda Cable was more comfortable dealing in moral ambiguity than I. She felt Hernandez would be able to topple the current government, with or without help from the Cables. "The train had left the station", she explained to me during our plotting, "all we can do is make right what little we can." Remembering those words, I finished confirming the terms of the deal with the Captain, "We we still set up mining and oil in the areas discussed. With the right of first refusal, in the areas we did not. Instead you, your newly founded government, coup, whatever, will get 40% of the profit instead of the 25% Charles promised you. That will be quite a bit of money more. It will make your time as leader here easier I would suspect. Build some schools and hospitals with it. You'll be popular. You'll last longer and there won't be another Captain Hernandez eyeing your job." That is not something Miranda would have said. She was more pragmatic. "In turn, I get the island. The entire thing free of all interference ... bandits and dogs as well please." He laughed. We sipped the wine quietly, we, the strangest two conspirators in the history of coups. After awhile, I checked my watch, the gold bracelet style favored by Miranda. "Okay, let's go put on our show." We hopped into the jeep together, and drove through the gates of the mansion. The security guard who had been seated out of earshot in the Mercedes during our discussion, drove behind us. We walked over to the platform used for garden parties, and I called the now crowded yard - dolls, hosts, house workers, security, even the rarely seen prison reds and yellows trying to fade into the shadows as they were trained to do - to gather around the podium. I lifted my hands indicating I was about to speak. The yard grew silent. I caught Anke's gaze, and raised my voice for all to hear, "You have been lied to for too long. Charles Cable is not the man he claims to be. Nor the husband he claimed to be. He lied to me, lied to you, lied to these soldiers. He told them you were a dangerous group that needed to be watched and intimidated to keep you in line. He had no idea that you were imprisoned here against your will." Captain Hernandez spoke, only needing to say the few words we agreed on. When I visited the camp he had "learned" from me the prison was not a prison, but a place where Charles hid his enemies. I'm not certain how much of that would not add up in his mind, particularly considering Charles enemies seem to consist of nothing but women. But I suspected he knew I was not being entirely honest with him, nor did he care. The weapons and additional money were enough. He too was a practical man. "I was deceived, this is true. I was told lies, this is true. And I am embarrassed about being ... how is it you say it ... jerked around by Charles Cable. But no more. My soldiers are off to fight in a glorious revolution. But we will leave you and this island alone." There was some applause, from those who felt they understood this meant freedom. The hosts were bewildered, crushed in the way a religious person would upon discovering the absence of god. But most of the faces were mild confusion, mixed with hopefulness. A lot had happened, and for many, the prisoners mostly, there were too many pieces they didn't understand fully enough to appreciate what was being said. Most still did not know who Charles and I ... who Charles and Miranda were. Or how this mansion fit into the bigger picture of the prison. All they knew was it sounded promising. The Captain made a show of kissing me on each cheek, and departed in his jeep. At the edge of the crowd I saw Kimmi give me smile. She looked dishevelled. I suspected she had been in a fight. I ran to the Captain before he got too far. "Don't go just yet. I may have a gift for you." I waved Kimmi over. She came bounding over, obviously pleased with herself. "So ...?" I asked. She looked at the Captain, unsure whether to speak. "Yes. She's ... we have her." "Good!" I announced. "Pack some of her clothes. Be certain to pack all the lingerie you can find, and deliver her to the Captain. Outside the gate and out of sight please." I turned toward Hernandez, "I had heard you were looking for a spoil of war, a red haired girl from the prison. I can't give you her, but there is Lucinda Lilly, the chef Charles was fond of. She may not be your type exactly, but I'm certain you will teach her to deeply respect you over time," he looked at me with a smirk, understanding exactly what I was saying. "If you won't take her, please, give her to your men. I insist." I pushed down any feeling of guilt I was feeling at orchestrating Lucinda Lilly's fate. I was not an eye for an eye person, but the hurt she put me, and so many others, through was still an open wound. I turned and moved through the masses of people. There was still one large issue yet to be resolved. Where was Charles Cable? And where was Miranda? Once more I raised my voice for all to hear. "I need for everyone to stay out of the house. But you're free now. Enjoy it. I will have the staff bring out food and drink to celebrate." I looked around the crowd. Standing alone was Dr. Ling. I ran over to her. "I haven't seen Miranda in a day, maybe two." I explained to the Doctor. "I had security search the house room by room ... for Charles actually ... but they couldn't find him." Dr. Ling's eyebrow rose, "You would have risked having them find another Miranda?" I shook my head at the stupidity of the doctor's comment. "You're missing the point. Miranda could be in danger. I don't give a rats ass if every one knows what happened as long as she was safe. But now, I think I know where she, and Charles, have to be. In Charles living area. It's the only place my ... Miranda's universal card key doesn't work." Dr. Ling understood immediately. "But my emergency medical card key will." "Exactly Doctor, let's go." I walked toward the house, and as an afterthought, stopped a security guard. She, like everyone around, were milling and talk about what just happened, and what it all meant. The prisoners were just trying to get their bearings. I opened the guard's holster, "I'm going to need to borrow this." ******************************** I slightly opened the door quietly and slid through the opening, gun out. Dr. Ling hung behind me. I took off my shoes to have a lower profile and move silently. The Doctor - the only woman I'd seen not wearing heeled shoes since I arrived - made no sounds in her soft leather shoes. Charles bedroom was another cavernous space, although not as large as Miranda's apartment. Unlike Miranda, who completely lived in her area, except the time she spent playing the role of doting wife to Charles, he only slept here. I crept around and found Charles, unshaven in a rumpled suit, just sitting on the floor. He looked to be in shock. I am not certain he even saw us. At his feet was Miranda's stiff and lifeless body. I ran over and shoved him out of the way. He just crumpled to the floor. Doctor Ling examined her. "She's alive. But looks to be paralyzed." Fury consumed me. I grabbed Charles Cables' jacket and reached into his interior pocket. I handed the syringe kit to her. "Dr. Ling," She stopped me, "Laura. Call me Laura." I began again, "Laura. It's a paralysis drug. I've seen them ... Lilly and Charles ... use it on her before when they didn't know I was there. She's awake in there, she can see and hear. So they did horrible things while she watched. And the last time, it was bad, it took days to work off the effects." She had a pen flashlight out and was looking into Miranda's pupils. "This time its worse. She in a pretty deep coma, although you are right, it may just be the body and not the mind, which is many ways worse. I don't know that she will come out of this one. I'll examine her and find out exactly what the facts are. We'll talk more about that later when I have more. What about him?" She gestured to the hollow eyed Charles, who had began mumbling, "Seems like he snapped." "I can't imagine he loved her, having done the things he's done. But it still may be hard on him, he may have not wanted this to happen. More darkly, he's lost his access to her money and undoubtedly knows this sick world he built has collapsed around his ears." "True. But the question remains open. What should we do about him?" "Him? Oh, I know exactly what's going to happen to him. If you are willing to help me doctor." ****** Part 8: Living Miranda Cable Many weeks had passed since Charles Cable's sadistic rule of the prison and this house had ended. Things were better solely because there were no more captives. But things were no less complex. Charles, and his unwilling partner Miranda, had been at this for years. And what he left behind was difficult to unravel. The majority of the domestic staff which had the "most" female forms and every last one of the hosts, wanted to remain on the island, but for very different reasons. I would have to deal with both of those groups later. A few of the genetic females chose to stay, some had no real lives to go back to and with the captivity and madness removed, some quite liked the idea of living out their time on the warm tropical beaches of Central America with few cares. Other genetics still, would eventually go home, but needed time to repair their psyches from the damage this experience had brought on them. The first group of former prisoners were flying out by helicopter today, where they would land in the newly christened Hernandez International Airport - a misnomer since relations with other countries had yet to be established and only special flights were going out, nothing coming in. The man Hernandez toppled was not particularly loved around the world, so he felt in time, ties with other countries would grow. I still spoke with him periodically as part of our business dealings and coordinating moving the prisoners back to their homes. Every conversation ended the same way: "President Hernandez build those schools we talked about." Gathered in the mansion's lecture hall were a group of men and women excitedly readying themselves to leave the island. I stepped up to the stage and spoke to the large crowd. "Congratulations," I said warmly, "after such a long time, the craziness is about to end." They applauded. Miranda Cable was a very popular, trusted well respected woman since closing the prison. "I remind you, for those who want to work these issues out professionally, and would like to do so before leaving, I am flying in psychologist to deal with the trauma. If you would prefer to have counseling done back at home, it will be paid for by me, simply follow the procedure we discussed." I continued, "Freedom means freedom. Once you leave here, no one will tell you what you can or can not say about this place. Since so many of have chosen to stay, I'm sure there will be international pressure coming down on this place. Inspectors, courts and the like. That's okay. Great wrong was done here, and it is natural to make sure it does not happen again. What that means for me, however, is a bit trickier as they may not buy into my unwilling participant story, true as it is." "All of that brings me again to this," I pulled out the contract I had discussed with them earlier, "Many of those who are staying, and many in your group, do not want the humiliation suffered here to go public. The twenty-four news cycle, particularly for the American men in this group, will eat you alive. You will always be known as the men forced to be women. If you all sign this non-disclosure agreement, and it has to be all or none, then you agree to stick to the story we discussed - not knowing where you were and seeing and hearing nothing all this time - and in turn you will not have to work another day in your lives, and your children's children will not have to worry about college. If this sounds like a pay off, that's because it is." I smiled, waving at them as I left, "Have the best of lives. Godspeed." I left the stage winding my way through the house to the private medical facilities. Unlike the regular med facilities on the grounds which handled routine and emergency medical care, this one had a very limited scope: make men into women. Doctor Laura Ling greeted me as I walked in. I had learned after working with her for these past few weeks, that she was a very practical, serious thinker. She had the perfect analytical mind for a doctor. "We need to talk about Miranda." "Hello Laura, good morning to you too." She blushed, shaking her head. "Sorry. Good morning ...ma'am" Outside of the medical facility, she had been calling me Miranda every day. It was a necessary habit. But it was not something she did in front of Miranda. Not with her sitting paralyzed in a wheelchair just in the other room. "We stick to the plan," I said, "we wait however long it takes until she's better." Laura smiled a smile devoid of humor. She walked over and closed the door where Miranda sat in her chair out of courtesy. It was an unneeded gesture, Miranda hearing us or not, she could respond to nothing. But it showed the doctor seemed like an ethical woman. I never asked her how she got caught up in all of this very unethical business. Partly because I probably wouldn't like the answer. Miranda trusted her, so I as Miranda, trusted her. "You are an optimist. I like that about you. But I am a doctor, a scientist. Miranda Cable is not getting better. She will remain this way for life. You have decisions to make." I looked down at my heeled sandals as I drew nervous circles with my feet. "It's simple. Things are in flux here. And will be for awhile. There needs to be an Miranda Cable at the helm." I shrugged, this was not news, "There is a Miranda Cable controlling things." She was not satisfied, "And what happens if one of these people leaving the island tells, or sells, their story? Authorities from various countries will be crawling all over this place to see exactly what went on here." "Let them crawl over everything," I responded. "I have nothing to hide. And even if they didn't like what they saw, even if the hundreds of witnesses didn't verify my story as a liberator not captor, there's no extradition rights here. I can't be brought to trial." She looked at me and spoke bluntly, "There can't be two Miranda Cables. You know this. For all of this to work. For you to help these women recover from this trauma. For you to deal with these hosts, there can only be one. If anyone on purpose or accident finds another Miranda, then everything goes away. The goodwill from Captain, sorry, President Hernandez, your mining and oil deals, the money to the survivors of this place, the counselors you're flying in, everything. Poof!. And without Hernandez protecting you here, the lawyers come in and take every penny she has. And what of Miranda then?" I was evident from her demeanor she wanted this issue cleared up before I left. I asked the obvious question. "And how do you suggest we deal with this?" Laura fixed her gaze on me. "I have a scan of your facial structure. Bree's facial structure,I mean. I make another mask and Miranda becomes Bree. Then we keep her here and give her the best care that we can. Life for you ... and her ... is easier this way." And she would never say it, but it was implied indirectly: keeping her here having access to Miranda's blood and DNA, makes life easier should those hurdles present themselves. I hesitated for a great while before succuming. "Okay do it." ****** I returned to my room, Miranda's old apartment, torn with conflicting emotions. I felt very sorry for Miranda. My heart was breaking. She would never be the woman she once was. And undoubtedly, being unable to move or speak, being trapped in an unmoving shell of a body, staring every day at a face that wasn't hers, would drive her slowly to insanity. It was a very dark fate. I sat down on the couch near the entranceway and wept. But these were not tears of remorse for Miranda's condition although they should have been. They were tears of shame. I had come to enjoy being Miranda greatly. I was relieved, and embarrassed at my relief that there would be no more obstacles to my being her forever. Being Miranda Cable was intoxicating. I was respected, wealthy beyond reason and with the deals I had in place in this country, about to be wealthier. I was a hero who wielded great political power in this small nation by helping put the leader in power. I owned a tropical island and a near two hundred room mansion, and could own many more like it. My opportunities were limitless. I could feel my nipples harden just from the idea of it all. An uncomfortable thought crossed my mind: what kind of person was I becoming? But it was not just the material trappings. I was a woman like few others. My own lean athletic body mixed generously with the miracle of science, meant I was a very attractive, leggy, bosomy wonder. To drive the point home, I allowed my hands to run over this wonderful body ... my wonderful body. It was so curvy, so soft. The breasts which once felt unwieldy and large, felt full and sexy as I cupped them with my hands. With my power, wealth and looks, when I walked into a room I was the center of attention, the focal point. I was wrong, being Miranda Cable was more than intoxicating, it was more like a drug. And I was no longer a pretender to her throne, I was the queen. I was her. I didn't miss being a man for one moment. Living as Miranda Cable was a far better life than the one I'd left behind. I shoved the guilt aside coming to terms with it all. "I am the queen now. I didn't ask for it, but here it is. I am Miranda Cable and I am the queen." I spoke aloud to the room, I was actually giddy with the thought of it. "And this queen is going to enjoy in her pleasures." I walked into the bedroom area smiling wickedly. On my bed, brought in by the former host Anke Janssen not an hour ago, was an attractive short blonde haired woman lying there, silently and wide eyed. Her wrists were bound and tied to the bed posts. She didn't need a gag, her vocal cords were long since a thing of the past. Her thin, long body held the exaggerated proportions of a fetish porn star. Her breasts were some of the largest I'd seen, far larger than mine even, and her ass and hips were voluminous and curvy and equally large. I imagine it was quite difficult for her to get around. Particularly as she spent most waking hours locked into a pair of six and a half inch stiletto pumps, which based on the looks of them, were at least a couple sizes too small. But she wasn't made for walking, nor would she need to. She made to be an instrument for sex. "Hello Charlotte. Such a pleasure to see you again." I undressed slowly in front of her. Slipping out of my brown heeled sandals, I walked around to the side of the bed. Lifting my perfectly pedicured feet, I placed my red polished toes in her mouth. "Suck them Charlotte. You know what happens when you disobey." Charlotte lifted her head off the pillow and sucked my toes greedily and sloppily, just as she had been trained. I slid out of my blouse and bra letting my large mellons spill forth. Slipping out of my skirt and panties, my hard on was already at full attention. I crawled between Charlotte's legs until my large breasts pressed against her impossibly huge ones. I licked her face leaving saliva coating it all. Moving forward, kneeling before her face, I pushed my cock against the tip of her mouth. Her tongue flicked around my shaft, it glistened with the wetness of her mouth, before I slowly pushed it between her oversized thick collagen lips. Placing my hands against the wall to brace myself, I moved my hips all the way against her face so my dick was crammed deep in her throat. She coughed repeatedly, and when she sounded as though she was going to choke, I pulled it out again. Letting her catch just a moment's breath I began moved back and forth jamming my cock in and out of her face, fucking it deeply, rolling my hips joyfully. My dick was now wet and ready. Without much fanfare I lifted her hips, throwing her legs over my shoulders and shoved my stiffened, wet cock into her ass. If she could have made a sound, that sound would have been a scream. Denied of that satisfaction, the tears falling from her eyes would have to do. I pumped away at her ass, the sound of slapping skin filling the room. I leaned in so she could hear me over the sound so pounding flesh. I could feel my testicles swell with sperm ready to explode. "Oh Charles ... I'm sorry ... I mean, oh my dear Charlotte ... how far we have fallen. This is for me and all the others you've hurt." With that I reared back all the way and slammed my pole and hard and deeply as I could into the former cult leaders ass. Giving it to a Charles Cable who had been transformed into a fetish fuck toy, and fucking him now as the one and only true Mirada Cable, made me explode as I had never before. It was good to be the queen. "I'll have one of the girls clean you up and get you ready for next time." I picked up the phone and called Anke. "Get her out of here please." *********************** Leaving my room, I passed Wendy in the hallway. I gave her a nice hello, and she greeted me with a "Hi" and continued on her way. Wendy and Samantha had decided to stay, while Fiona wanted to go back to Scotland eventually, but not until she gave herself some time to digest what had happened. Samantha's reasons for staying were a little clearer. She quite enjoys being a doll, reveled in it. She was one of those who had inquired about getting additional surgery. This was a life she could live easily and enjoyable, because it became apparent to me that Samantha was accomplished in the arts of feminine illusion long before ever walking in the prison door. Wendy's reasons were a bit more unclear. In the few conversations I had with her I could sense she was feeling guilt over the fate of Bree. I had assured her that her former cell mate was fine, but with my unable to produce evidence or give a satisfactory explanation, it failed to put her at ease. But there was no telling her, or anyone, the truth. Only me and Dr. Ling could ever know that. Unfortunately, Miranda Cable was a woman who ran a complex house and was dealing with the logistics of hundreds, even if I had quite a bit of help. One of the casualties of being Miranda was I could not spare as much time to spend with Wendy, Samantha and to a lesser extent Fiona. They did not know Miranda, and had no driving desire to get to know her. It would be increasingly difficult and awkward for me to keep creating reasons to do so. But right now, I had much larger fish to fry. I stood outside the door of the banquet room where I had called in the hosts. They were my largest and most delicate problem. After the initial crushing disappointment, they had retreated back to the prison, and kept to themselves. They were very respectful of me, for which I was glad. I had feared a backlash would occur once I showed Charles to be a charlatan, but the opposite had happened. Having lost their bearings, having lost independent thought for so long, they were glad for my guidance. Some, like Anke Janssen had shown on any number of occasions, were as completely obedient to me as they would have been to Charles, though not all the hosts were that way. I looked at the group gathered before me. They all stared back expectantly. The still wore the uniforms of the prison, the gray jackets and black pants, in fact they insisted on it. The holsters were still slung across their hips, although currently no weapons were allowed on the island with the exception of the few security guards hand picked by me. I would have preferred Orly Okocha had stayed to help with the hosts as she was someone they looked up to. But being a genetic woman not indoctrinated into the cult, once she helped me execute the plan, she was determined to head back to her hometown of Lagos Nigeria as she had told me ... told Miranda ... months ago. I had no idea how this was going to go. I had planned no words before coming here. I stood silently before them, this huge group of trained, dedicated professional hosts. I could see the allure for Charles; a small army of obedient gender-blended women, ones who would never question you, ones who would storm a superior force of armed security guards without a second thought as they attempted to the night we trapped them in the tunnels. This could be quite the formidable private army to have. Is that what I wanted? Was I losing my moral bearings consumed by the growing power of being Miranda? I began, "Charles Cable told you many things. He lied to you about many things. He was, in fact, a liar from the day we met. He was a cheat, a bully, a sadist and terrible person." I paused for a long while, was I actually going to do this? "But he did not lie about everything. You are the better gender. You are special. You are moving closer to perfection than us mere women or men. We are half of what you are. And, if you stay with me, let me guide you, I can help you get as close to this perfection as possible. But you must be as dedicated to me as you were Charles." Heads lifted. Eyes which had been blurry and unfocused sharpened as they took me in. Was I saying what they thought I was? I was. "Where Charles went wrong was he did it by deception and force. He was still male, and his male weakness shone through in the end - avarice, aggression and anger. We will do it differently. We will bring the willing onto our island." My voice was rising, "But we will only bring the willing. This will no longer be a prison where we transform the men by force and trickery into the perfect gender. That method was always flawed, doomed to failure. "No, this will be an academy, a school, a training center, a philosophy and way of life. You will not be guards, you will be guides. You in this room, and the others outside who may not be believe as strongly as you, will help create the ... the ... the .... Gender Perfection Academy!" The hosts stood up and burst into applause. Some cried grateful tears. They had purpose again. And so did I. I was Miranda Cable and my life had only just begun. - - The End.