Side Effects Ch.4 free porn video

Side Effects Ch.4 Bonjour lecteurs! Finally got this done and sorry again for the extensive wait. I'd like to also take this opportunity to thank you readers for the feedbacks. The response I've received for Mile High was certainly unexpected and for that I'm glad to share that Mile High Ch.2 is on the way... hopefully soon. But firstly, don't forget to leave your feedbacks and reviews after you've finished this one. It means the world to me. Thanks and enjoy... I hope :-) Warning: This story contains TG, dark themes and identity thefts. The Break Maggie Chaplin couldn't wait for the whole mess to be over. She was still shaking from the terrible predicament she had been put through. Having been around long enough to know that not everyone was what he or she appears to be, the discovery she had stumbled upon at her neighbor Morrison's place brought a whole new level to the saying of 'don't judge a book by its cover'. She still found it difficult to wrap her head around what had just happened for the past four days. Brenda was her friend and they had spent too much time together for her not to sense anything amiss with the 49 year old lady. How could Maggie - with her inquisitive mind - not pick up a hint that Brenda was actually a young man in disguise? What about Professor Coburn? Surely the husband would be able to tell the doppelganger apart from his wife. And that pretty lady officer. Maggie could hardly forget her name as she wrote it down on the paper along with her partner's. For someone in drag, she sure as hell looked mightily convincing. No. That was no ordinary drag, Maggie told the two FBI special agents. "There must be something else... Something more advanced..." Maggie said, even her voice was still shaking. Even in the safety of the FBI headquarters, the middle-aged lady had never been so terrified. "You're right, Ms. Chaplin. Our investigation uncovered some sort of bodysuit technology which was the brainchild of Senator John D. Clarke before he personally cancelled its research after his wife, Susan became his personal assistant. Many thought that it was because the lovely wife had opposed to the disguise technology but we think otherwise," 32 year-old Special Agent Zoey Peterson said, with a disgusted expression on her face as if she couldn't bring herself to speak any further regarding what they've found. Agent Peterson had short cropped Chestnut hair. The sharp features on her face reminded Maggie of Michelle Rodriguez. The lady Federal agent gave Maggie the impression of some no nonsense chick who would win a fight against most guys - this despite her petite figure. She looked towards her partner, 47 year-old Special Agent Quentin Fernandez which Maggie fondly remembered as the one who had picked her up in the middle of nowhere. "Please excuse Agent Peterson if you will. She has this immense hatred towards homosexuality and the following piece of information repulsed her more than anything else. You see... We've uncovered that Susan D. Clarke has in fact been replaced by the senator's former PA - Paul Duvall," agent Fernandez said while sliding a photo of Duvall across the table. Maggie was familiar with Senator Clarke. Heck, the guy had made front page on most major news outlet on a regular basis as the hot favorite for the next presidential election. He was well known for his charm and outspoken efforts against homosexuality. Furthermore, his young wife was one of those rare beauties with an intelligent mind that even Maggie found herself "So... You think the senator is part of it? And his... his wife is a man?" Maggie said, finding it hard to believe what she had just heard. "Ms. Chaplin, we don't make mere assumptions. The person who had helped you escape the lab was our source of valuable information and evidence. So you can bet that we have more than enough reasons to believe the senator's involvement," agent Peterson said. "But still, I don't get it. If you have all the evidence, why didn't you make the arrest?" Maggie questioned. "It's not that simple, Ms. Chaplin," agent Peterson said. "What do you mean?" "Let's just say that the senator is a very influential and powerful figure," agent Fernandez said. "If you've noticed, the sign on the door says 'FBI division of Records and Cold Cases'. Our division wasn't supposed to dwell into what we're looking into now. But due to the influence among the FBI directives which the Senator commands, we have to do this under an elaborated camouflage," explained agent Peterson. "In other words, people are thinking that we're a division which study old files and unsolved cases but instead, we're dead on the trail of a nameless organization who tried to bring sexual freedom back into the world," agent Fernandez continued. "We do have The Anti-Sexual Freedom Division but the fact that it was headed by Senator Clarke's men made its credibility significantly questionable." "But... How did you come to suspect the senator and started this little unsanctioned division after what's he has done to cement his reputation among the religious US government? I mean what prompted your suspicions on his true motives in the first place, even before the discovery that his young wife was a fake?" Maggie's curiosity came alive. The two Federal agents were impressed. "Good question, Ms. Chaplin," agent Fernandez said. "It was Susan's father who first suspected something amiss with his daughter. Being a powerful man himself, he utilized his connections with the previous FBI director to dwell into things on his own accord, knowing full well that his son-in-law and his assistant aka the former Paul Duvall would be aware if he goes through the front door," agent Peterson explained. "The news that his daughter... his real daughter's demise totally broke the old man's heart. Mr. Whitman vowed to expose and destroy Senator Clarke's life once and for all. That's where we come in?" "Ms. Chaplin, I trust that the information we have just shared with you remains confidential until the time of the public event," agent Fernandez said, his tone firm and authoritative. "What public event?" Maggie asked. Agent Zoey Peterson and Agent Quentin Fernandez were looking at each other with a satisfying grin on their faces. That was the first time she had seen the lady FBI agent smile. Visitors The tightness of her black pencil skirt was hugging the length between her tiny waist and her knees only elevated the sensation of her smooth thighs brushing against each other as Courtney Donovan swayed her womanly hips away from Maggie Chaplin's exquisite double story colonial. The taste of her not-so-descent chocolate cake still haunting Courtney's taste bud as she sauntered towards the doorstep of her own property, carrying a piece of the poorly made desert. The earlier visit was intended to make sure that the 45 year-old neighbor was doing okay after words got out that she had caught some sort of virus. According to Mrs. Coburn, Maggie wasn't keen on seeing anyone as she wished to be left alone for the next few days until she had fully recovered. But in truth, most among the neighborhood were just afraid of catching whatever illness that Maggie caught. So, they had only bothered dropping her the usual get-well-soon messages through the convenient medium of the social media. In fact, Courtney was the only visitor to the Chaplin's place, apart from Maggie's best friend Brenda Coburn. In spite of her pregnancy, Courtney was not bothered by her neighbor's condition. As Courtney let herself through the front door of her upscale home, she ambled in a casual manner across the vast hallway and straight into the spacious kitchen. She ditched the cake into the wastebin without even looking before washing her svelte hands off of all the filth from the pastry. In the eyes of the secluded New York suburbs community, Courtney was a kind-hearted young lady who took the risk of exposure to Maggie's illness just so she could check on her neighbor's wellbeing. There was a number of reasons for it though. Firstly, Maggie Chaplin did not catch no virus. It was just something she and Brenda made up so that the still-single real estate agent would get no visitors until she was well versed with her new life. New life? That's the second reason. The middle-aged chubby lady now residing in Chaplin's large colonial home used to be a 33 year-old skinny man named Gregory Welton. Thanks to Senator Clarke's initiated research by the covert wing of the military from years ago, the resulted bodysuit technology had made Gregory into the exact copy of Maggie Chaplin. Courtney's own bodysuit was amicably worn by the former Frank Xavier as he let his Courtney-hair down from his now customary but elegantly styled bun. Even with the bodysuit, he could sense every thread of the young wife's clothing thanks to the disguise technology's peripheral innervation system. After more than 6 months of donning the life-like bodysuit, the former Frank could barely notice its existence as he sauntered up the curved staircase. However, he was conscious of how his Courtney-derriere swayed naturally from side to side as he made his way towards the Donovan's master bedroom. The impostor did not bother to shut the door, as he ambled past the luxurious four-post bed towards the large walk-in closet while unbuttoning Courtney's white blouse along the way. The lace of Courtney's pink brasserie came into view as he admired the lovely reflection of Courtney Donovan from the ceiling to floor mirror within the closet. With a grin from his new face that would melt the hearts of millions of men, he proceeded to unzip Courtney's skin-tight skirt before peeling it off his slender figure. The false Courtney released the remaining buttons of her white blouse which had earlier been hidden under her skirt before discarding it into the laundry basket by the entrance to the bathroom. She continued to stand in front of the full-length mirror as the doppelganger reveled in the vision of herself in sexy pink lingerie. Her hidden member was already straining against its confinement even before she had started rubbing her fake clit through the smooth material of her pink thong. Courtney felt her long sumptuous legs weakened as jolts of electric- like sensations shot through her entire body. She needed a place to lie down before barely making it to the opulent king-sized bed. Once comfortably rested, her left breast was treated to her dainty fingers' fondling even as it still sat within her bra. Her right svelte hand was still probing at her pussy as her digits began to detect wetness through the expensive silk of her skimpy underwear. Courtney's well-veiled penis was literally screaming to be let out as its precum was flowing like a loose faucet, drenching the crotch of her skimpy underwear. As she singlehandedly tucked her left cup aside to free her tits and its erect nipple, the phony Mrs. Donovan had the urge to do the same for her straining member. It was twitching so hard that Courtney felt it could really explode anytime underneath her artificial vagina. Seeing another impersonator donning the disguise of another woman usually arouse the former Frank as much as the presence of a handsome man. The only explanation she could think of was probably the thrill of knowing the hidden grotesque under the covers of pure beauty without being discovered. With that thought, the false brunette ducked her slender fingers under the lacy waistband of her thong before coming to her well-lubricated clit. She went past it to slide her index and middle digits in between her slippery labias. Just when she managed to touch her hidden treasure with the tip of her finger, the doorbell rang. For the first couple of ringing, Courtney ignored them as she tried to bring her cock out through her drenched lips. But the doorbell kept sounding with increased frequency. The young wife's moans of pleasure turned into groans of curses as she had to shove her manhood back into its hiding place. It was definitely a huge turnoff as she had to wrap herself in a bathrobe before heading downstairs for the door. The former Frank felt like strangling whoever was spamming her doorbell as it not only caused her impending 'blue balls', but now it was causing her headache. Once she swung the door open, her expression changed dramatically - it was Courtney Donovan's mom - her stepmother to be precise. Of course it had to be her. The information from Marissa Hopkins file had clearly stated that the 43 year-old was a very... to put it mildly, strict and strong-willed woman. In other words, Courtney's stepmom was a bitch and the former Frank had dreaded the day when he had to meet her in person. As the day finally arrived, the false Courtney was impressed by how well maintained Marissa was. Unlike her, Mrs. Hopkins had long blonde hair with gentle curves which cascaded a little past her small shoulders. Her face appeared to contradict her middle age status with very little hint of the plastic surgeries stated in her file. In the former Frank's opinion, it was definitely well worth all the money Courtney's dad had paid. Big blue eyes, elevated cheeks and the high, thin nose looked remarkably natural. Even her lips were plump but not overemphasized unlike those of the Hollywood actresses. Either she or her husband must had been an admirer of Christina Applegate because the masterful works on Mrs. Hopkins face must had surely been based on the celebrity's lovely visage. Even though not as slender as the actress, Courtney's stepmom did an exceptional job in keeping a curvaceous figure. Her generous busts were barely kept in check by the low neckline of her white knee-length dress. Apart from her bosom, the elegant attire was also hugging her waist and flare-out hips tightly - amicably showing off her voluptuous form. Her pair of 3-inch beige pumps completed the vision of a woman who looked more in her late 20s than her early 40s. "Well... Are you going to just stand there and gawk all day?.. Or, are you going to invite me in?" Marissa said with obvious authority. Her voice was sharp and stern. "Oh... H... hi, Marissa... What a pleasant sur..." Courtney didn't get to finish her sentence before the stepmother pushed her door open so that the gap was wide enough for her to just walk past her daughter into the house. A couple of butlers in uniform followed closely behind with large suitcases and boxes of what seemed like gifts. Marissa started giving orders of where to arrange her stuffs as if the place was her own while Courtney's annoyance was only growing by the minute. She could only hope for a short visit from the stepmother but going by the stuffs that she brought, it seemed unlikely. Courtney recalled partly from her own extracted memories and partly from Marissa's elaborate file, that the elegant lady before her had a tainted history of failed marriages before meeting Mr. Hopkins. The two of them tied the knot not long after the passing of Courtney's biological mother due to cancer. Courtney had just finished high school at the time. The former Frank was well versed with the real daughter's unhappiness not only with her dad's decision but with Marissa's seemingly unfriendly treatment towards her as well. After all, she was deemed by the gold digger as the only hindrance to her dad's wealth and estate once he had met his end. Then, almost out of nowhere, an enticing idea immediately sprung to Courtney's mind. After placing all the expensive belongings in all the right places, the two butlers bowed out of Courtney's house. Marissa was still talking without giving her stepdaughter a look while explaining that the gifts were intended for her upcoming baby. Over on the other side of the living hall, Courtney peeked through the curtains to see that her stepmother's 'army' of assistants and chauffeur had left the property in a black limousine. "Courtney honey, you know you really should be thankful that I've decided to visit. How can you live in such a place like this?!" the mother said while scrutinizing the Donovan's $2.68 million worth of suburban residence. "Hey mom... There's someone I'd like you to meet," Courtney said. Her mother finally turned to look at her because there was something peculiar about the way she said it. That was when she saw an expression never before seen on her stepdaughter. Scandalous Maggie Chaplin was watching the live footage from the evening news of presidential hopeful John D. Clarke in a GOP debate as she waited for Agent Fernandez and Agent Peterson. While the two FBI agents were initiating a covert operation to expose Senator Clarke and his untold organization, Maggie sat in a secret FBI premise in New York while admiring the beauty of Susan D. Clarke who attracted plenty of attentions from TV cameras whenever it wasn't showing the way her husband teared down his opponent. Maggie just stared in awe of how someone so beautiful, so elegant was actually a man in disguise. As a matter of fact, most women around the world were seeing Susan D. Clarke as the embodiment of feminine grace with intelligence in abundance. Just then, the recollection of Brenda and the lady police officer again reminded her of the very possibility. Maggie recalled the occasions where the politician's young wife gave some rousing speech in support of her husband's candidacy - her maturity and the way she spoke defined someone well beyond her age. At first, Maggie shrugged it off with the thought that the 29 year-old blonde was just reading from pre-written scripts by a highly paid political writer. But now, the revelation that the current Susan D. Clarke was in fact a former 44 year-old (his true age by now should be close to 47) political assistant with Ivy League credentials, everything seemed to make a whole lot more sense. "Mrs. Chaplin, we're all set," Agent Fernandez said, bringing her back to the weight of her current predicament. She felt exhausted from all the traveling, the latest of which took three hours where she was brought back to New York from Washington. Time to regain her identity from some freaking impostor, she thought. As she walked out of the building in the company of the two special agents, Maggie finally understood what Agent Fernandez meant when he mentioned about some 'public event'. There was a van which belonged to a prominent international news agency parked in front of Fernandez's sedan. Maggie immediately recognized the lovely reporter hanging out with her small group of news crew - Linda Kelly. Even with her long blonde hair down, Maggie knew it was the famous news anchor as she made her way swiftly towards Agent Fernandez and Agent Peterson. "Quentin, you know I don't have time for this. I'm skipping the exclusive interviews with Senator Clarke and Senator O' Sutton just for the biggest political scandal in US history you've promised me... And yet you said nothing, nothing at all of what it is! You better talk now or me and my crew are out of here!" Ms. Kelly threatened. "Suits you, Linda... I could just make a phone call to Dave Watt of the CNN and I'm sure he wouldn't wanna miss a humongous scoop on Senator John D. Clarke," Fernandez said. The mentioning of the familiar name seemed to have settled the deal for Ms. Kelly as she and her crew eventually agreed to tag along with the FBI's team. Watching the exchange between agent Fernandez and the 36 year-old journalist, Maggie's inquisitive mind wondered whether the two might have acquainted long before this meeting - quite possibly romantically involved even. Amazed with her own ability to dwell into such gossipy matters especially during crucial times like these, Maggie quickly shook her head before making a pledge to focus on matters at hand. She was escorted into a FBI vehicle as the team made their way to the suburbs. It's about time to reclaim her place. French Kiss The master bedroom of the French ambassador's upscale Manhattan property was filled with groans and noises of heavy breathing. If one were to put their ear to the door, the sounds of two bodies repeatedly coming together could clearly be heard. Claude Moreau was sweating as he wasted no effort in slamming his manhood into his lovely wife's tight snatch. It had been a rough week for the French ambassador. The visit from his countrymen, the trade minister didn't go as plan. Hiccups were abundance which resulted in the minister and his team calling off the remaining part of the diplomatic trip. Claude was worried that he could actually lose his position, the one thing he had fought so hard to achieve. He was depressed but coming home to his family and knowing that his beautiful wife and son were waiting for him made him forget about his troubles. Juliette had been his strongest supporter ever since finding herself settling rather well in a place where she had doubts with initially. Whenever Claude shared his concerns with the lady, she'd always find words of encouragement. "If the worst happens, we'd just have to move back to Paris and we can go back to where we first met. You know how much I love it there..." Juliette said after their dinner that evening. Pierre and Juliette's parents had all gone to bed. Hearing such supportive words from the wife, Claude couldn't hold back his tears as he gave Juliette a big emotional hug. Despite being away from his wife most of the time, the 42 year-old French Ambassador was happy he had married a thoughtful and understanding woman. After the emotional embrace, Claude scooped the wife up from her dresser before carrying her to the bed where they started kissing passionately. Her silk bathrobe was easily discarded before the husband's left hand was all over Juliette's exposed right breast. Their lips were firmly locked to each other as the French woman hastily released Claude's erect member from his boxer while the husband shifted his right hand from Juliette's pert derriere to the front of her pink cotton hipster. The damp spot on the crotch grew as Claude rubbed the soft material against her most sensitive spot. Moans escaped from Juliette's luscious lips even as they were still planted on her husband's mouth. It was almost immediately followed by Claude's more manly groan as he felt his manhood caressed by his wife's smooth, svelte hand. That was when their lips parted as Claude guided his wife comfortably resting on her back before spreading her legs apart. Like a beast devoid of food for days, the middle-aged man dived in without further invitation. He worked his tongue extremely well, covering all the places he knew Juliette would enjoy. The moans from his lady motivated Claude to shove his tongue deeper as he reveled in the aroma and the taste of the lovely brunette. In the midst of Claude's determination to please his wife, he failed to realize the tiny details that Juliette's natural juices were significantly less than usual despite the initial wetness to her panties. If Claude's eyes were not obstructed by the wife's gravity defying globes on her chest, he would have noticed that she was showing very little expression, safe for the occasional forged moans and vocal responses. The Juliette-Moreau-bodysuit worn by 48 year-old Barry Watson had all the abilities to transfer every stimulus from Juliette's nether region to his well-hidden appendage underneath. But despite Claude's skillful effort, the impostor's mind was elsewhere. Barry was aroused at first when the husband started fondling his breasts, squeezing at his firm rump before pawing his fake vaginas through Juliette's underwear. However the events over the past week returned to haunt him barely halfway into the intimate session. As Claude pulled away from his wife's pussy, satisfied with the natural lubrication he had applied, he aimed the head of his throbbing erection at Juliette's snatch before pushing past the lips. Barry made sure to get his Juliette-expression and Juliette-squeal right just so not to hurt the husband's feelings as the impostor's mind traveled back to a couple of days where he made the lonely damage limitation trip to one of the secret laboratory. Barry had met up with a team of professionals before they started taking out every single lab personnel in cold blood. A new group of technicians took over as they transfer the 'originals' to another secret location. The stakes were extremely high, and fortunately for them, the organization's men managed to pull through without much hindrance. However, the main problem remained. The sole missing subject. Maggie Chaplin was just an ordinary 40-something pudgy lady. But it would only take an ordinary individual to take down the entire organization if her whereabouts remained a mystery. Those were the worries occupying his mind as his Juliette-form was getting hammered by Claude's enthusiasm. There wasn't much contribution from Barry's hidden manhood as most of the sex juices were just a mixture of the husband's saliva and precum. If the former CIA agent was having a full hard-on, Claude would have experienced a much tighter penetration - though the husband was in no place to complain. For the most part during the missionary position, the ambassador laid his head beside Juliette's as he whispered tender loving words into her ear. Knowing that the husband wasn't looking, the false Juliette resumed her expressionless visage as she let the possibilities of Ms. Chaplin getting covertly picked up by the authorities flooded her thoughts. It could either be a secret wing of the current CIA or even a camouflaged department in the FBI. The beautiful wife paid no attention to Claude's progressively erratic rhythm as he was closed to releasing his seeds into her womb after what seemed like a long week of pent up tension. After a few more final pushes, his Excellency propped himself up and extended his hips shoving all of his cock into Juliette. As he felt the velocity of his cum rushed out of his tightened sacs through his shaft and into his wife, Claude thought he had caught her disinterested face. It was just a flash before Juliette returned to being the passionate woman he had always knew her to be. Claude shrugged it off as just his imagination as the wife was groaning to her own orgasm shortly after. Her long and well-toned legs tightened their grips around Claude's waist, not allowing the withdrawal of his softening member until the waves of her own orgasm subsided. For the ambassador, he was glad that Juliette was having a good time as much as he did. For the make-believe Mrs. Moreau though, she was just happy with her impressive acting. While the position of the organization was in jeopardy, there was very little anyone could do to get 'Juliette' into the mood - even if Claude had taken her from the back door. As much as she hated to admit it, all hope now rest on HIS shoulder. Caught "Just a few visitors today. All accounted for," the surveillance team reported. "Anyone out of the ordinary and not from the neighborhood?" Agent Fernandez questioned. "Only one Mrs. Marissa Hopkins. She is the stepmother of one of the neighbors, a Courtney Donovan. We've checked their background. Nothing spooky." The last time they were in touch with their sole informant from the organization's lab, Agent Fernandez and Agent Peterson knew that there were others from this seemingly friendly and peaceful neighborhood that had been 'replaced'. But that was as far as they had got before their communication with the undercover was cut off. The only thing left of the lab was a burnt down warehouse. They knew that by saving Maggie Chaplin, they would risk compromising the whole operation. However, the ruthless measure by slaughtering everyone in the lab was certainly unexpected. It had been more than 72 hours since they had spoken to their source. When the report of a huge fire - the lab - came in, Agent Fernandez had prepared for the worst. He knew that any of the fake Maggie's visitors could be the organization's people. If only he'd his hand on the list before that damn fire. "Our main suspect hasn't left the premise this whole time?" Agent Fernandez enquired, seeking further assurance. "Negative. No signs of the suspect leaving the house." Agent Fernandez gazed at his Swiss watch. It was 5 minutes to 10 pm and everyone in Mr. Herbert's house was alert. The 67 year-old elderly had given his permission for the FBI to use his premise, not before the shock of seeing his nosy neighbor in their custody. The news crew and their van were still parked by the street since their arrival barely 30 minutes ago. The residents would just think that it was one of those paparazzi covering the Morrison's scoop. Picking up his cell, the special agent dialed Linda Kelly's personal number as she was getting ready within the restrictive space of the news van. "Linda, we're all set," Agent Fernandez said. In a matter of minutes, the TV crew had Mr. Herbert's place set up for live broadcasting. The lovely news anchor stood beside Agent Fernandez as they started going on air, interrupting the network's usual programming for a breaking news. After the short exchange in front of live television, the camera was then focused on Maggie as she was asked about her abduction and what happened at the Morrisons. By then, Fernandez had men on standby at different locations to arrest Brenda Coburn and Deborah le Blanc's impostor. "We have evidence pointing strongly to the involvement of Senator John D. Clarke and sacrificing innocent civilians was his way of bringing back sexual freedom." It was an astounding statement and the last statement made by Agent Fernandez before his team along with the real Maggie Chaplin and the news crew rushed over to the property next door. The cameraman made sure he had captured every second of the live action. In spite of the shakiness, the prime time viewers across the country could see a couple of bulletproof vest-wearing agents knocking and shouting through the door. The lack of response prompted them to kick the door down before entering. Another group of agents were guarding the back door while a helicopter had just arrived to make sure that there was zero chance for an escape. The sole purpose of bringing in Ms. Chaplin was to put her beside her doppelganger so that the existence of the organization's bodysuit technology would be broadcasted and shown to as many citizens as possible. The impostor would be captured and further evidence implicating Senator Clarke would then be handed over to Linda and the rest of the international news agencies. However, after nearly an hour of turning Maggie's residence upside- down, Fernandez's team had yet to find a living soul. The so-called breaking news was losing its viewers while the accused senator who was initially panicked by the event, was now laughing in the comfort of his office. The FBI was sweating. So was Kelly's team, not to mention her entire network. What was meant to be an exclusive break had now turned into a huge embarrassment. But for Agent Fernandez and Agent Peterson, the consequences were ineffable. Houdini Marissa Hopkins had changed out of her elegant white dress to a more comfortable lavender silk nightgown. Its bottom hem rose a couple more inches above her creamy white thighs as she settled with her legs tucked under her on her daughter's cozy couch. She couldn't believe her eyes when the breaking news interrupted the talk show she was watching. "Frank! You have to see this...!" Marissa calling out to her stepdaughter's impersonator. "Greg... I mean, Marissa...! How many times do I have to tell you..." Courtney's voice trailed off when she saw the live broadcast. Immediately, the attractive young lady went over to one of her windows and slightly cast aside her curtains. Bright lights were shining from the props as well as vehicles now concentrated around Maggie's house. A few more never-seen-before government cars arrived on the scene as Courtney could feel her heart pumping rapidly. Even the sound of a helicopter could be heard hovering closely above the neighborhood. The once peaceful and secluded community had come under the spotlight once again in the space of barely a week. Courtney swiftly backed off the window before retrieving her phone as she intended to call her handler within the organization. It was a good thing to send Bob away on a 'business trip'. The false wife couldn't begin to imagine how he would react in situation like this. While she was about to activate the encrypted line, Marissa's hand rested on her shoulder. "Honey, I don't think that's necessary," Marissa said as she invited her daughter to sit by the couch beside and read the ensuing news line at the bottom. 'FBI Screw Up?' 'A Grand Conspiracy or A Huge Misunderstanding?' 'No Doppelganger.' The anxiety on the FBI agent's face as he was struggling to answer questions raised by the reporter brought immense relief to Courtney and Marissa. The usually cool-headed Agent Fernandez was wiping sweat off his forehead as journalists from a few other networks who had just joined, were shoving microphones and recording devices at his face. His team had just completed the preliminary search and so far, there were no signs of Maggie's doppelganger. Switching the TV off, Courtney turned her attention towards her stepmom before saying, "Let's go over this again. Who are you and where you're from?" "Why, that's a silly question... I'm your mother of course. I just came down here this morning to surprise my daughter... And to see if she has any regrets for marrying a lowly and uninspiring stockbroker," Gregory said, trying his best imitation of Marissa Hopkins. He had been grilled repeatedly by Courtney after returning from Maggie's place this morning. The former Frank Xavier was impressed with how effortlessly the former Maggie Chaplin's impostor settled into his new role. Furthermore, the two homosexuals had no idea that their preparation would be tested out so soon after Frank's successful plan of helping Gregory Welton escaped FBI's surveillance. Heck, they wouldn't have known that the FBI was involved if it wasn't for the anonymous tip Courtney had received this morning. There was no hint that the unidentified call was coming from the organization either. Both she and her mom were startled by the knocking on the door. They knew it was the federal agents and their problems were far from over. Questions "I don't understand... How can that be? We've just spoken to her this morning. She seems to be in good spirits..." Courtney said before Marissa lightly touched her arm and whispered something to her. "Except one thing though... She seemed excited about some sort of involvement with the authorities... She didn't specifically mention the FBI but..." Courtney added before being overcame with hesitation. "But what?" Agent Peterson questioned sounding increasingly impatient. "You see, most of us in the neighborhood have always thought that Maggie craves the attention and being single and all..." Courtney said. "So you think she cooked the whole thing up?" Agent Fernandez took over the questioning. "That's not possible... She was with us during your visit this morning," Agent Fernandez said. Courtney and Marissa were slightly taken aback by the special agent's harsh tone. Agent Peterson had to drag her partner out of the Donovan's residence to keep him from losing it completely. "Thank you for your time Mrs. Donovan and Mrs. Hopkins... We'll be in touch if the need arises," Agent Peterson said. Out at the lawn, the two agents resumed their argument. "Why did you stop me there? You know as well as me that those two are not what they seem." "I don't know, Fernandez... Maybe they're just telling the truth. Maybe they didn't even know the Maggie they saw this morning was a fake. Maybe Ms. Chaplin's double did escape. Just don't ask me how... Look I'm not telling you to let any of this slide. We still have evidence that the lab and the organization existed. All we need now is to use the evidence to persuade the judge so that a warrant will be granted for us to perform a thorough medical and DNA tests on the neighbors." Peterson reasoned with her frustrated partner. Usually, it would have been the other way round. But Fernandez had poured so much into taking down the organization that it had finally gotten to him. He was convinced that today would be it. The day he would put everything to rest. As it had turned out, it was a complete disaster. Now that the enemy has been alerted, there was no time to sulk. They needed to move fast. The Release This had never happened to the former Frank Xavier before. He was usually a clear-minded and self-assured persona but on this occasion, his thoughts were all jumbled up. His luscious lips were fully occupied by Marissa's as the false mother and daughter locked in deep embrace. The sense of triumph was obvious after the failed FBI attempt of a surprise attack on the organization's operative. Deep down, Courtney couldn't help smiling to the thought of Agent Fernandez's humiliation in the face of the media he himself had arranged to expose an absurd plot to bring back sexual freedom. She had possibly played the main role in saving their grand struggle to return humanity the liberty it had once enjoyed. Once the two Special Agents had left her front lawn, the young brunette couldn't help raising both of her arms. She was immensely relieved and at the same time elated with the turn of events especially after what had been a stressful week. It wouldn't have been possible if not for the anonymous tip coupled with the timely visit of her annoying step mother. Speaking of which, Marissa promptly jumped into her daughter's arms as no one was happier than the impersonator underneath. Gregory had been toiling, always contemplating the possibility of him being exposed and arrested. In Marissa Hopkins disguise, he felt as if a considerable weight had been lifted off him - literally speaking. He was finally freed of Maggie's prison. The sensations of Mrs. Hopkins exquisite nightgown, the softness of her black panties and the support of the matching brassiere - Gregory felt more alive than ever. With the burning urge to just celebrate, the new Marissa grabbed the alluring figure of her daughter before kissing her passionately. The mother and daughter had their lips tightly locked together as Marissa's tongue explored Courtney's mouth. The experience she had with the phony Brenda when she was still trapped as Maggie had significantly changed her thoughts on her own sexuality. As Gregory, he had not the slightest interest in women. However, the dramatic change in perspective had a lot to do with his disguise and the fact that the women he would have no problem sharing a bed with were not just any ordinary women like himself. Now as an attractive young stepmother, Greg didn't stop to think about the confusion he would impose on his daughter. To his relief, Courtney's initial uncertainty was eventually overcame indicated by her willingness to return the favor and protrude her own wet tongue into Marissa's mouth. For the former Frank, he allowed his emotions to take control as his Courtney-hands roamed to the back of the fake stepmom before groping at her juicy backside. He pushed his Courtney-body against the false Marissa, grinding her crotch against hers as he felt his hidden member slowly growing. His love for Bob had him turned down the temptations and charms of countless of men since he had become Courtney. However, the false woman struggled to find an explanation to what she was doing. She should have pushed Marissa/ Greg away; instead she was letting herself burned in the abrupt moment of passion and lust. The Frank inside of her kept telling herself that this was not a betrayal of Bob's love, merely because Greg was nothing like her husband. But she knew better. What would Bob think of this? Will he ever forgive her if he had found out? Frank's female form just wouldn't let him think as he continued making out with the lovely stepmother. It was further compounded by Marissa's svelte hand cupping at his female crotch. The sensation of Mrs. Hopkins palm rubbing against him through Courtney's negligee and lacy pink boyshorts, totally quashed any sort of resistance he had left within. Frank stood no chance as he allowed Courtney's body to be in complete control. Courtney could feel her clit sending torrents of signals to the head of her secret appendage as the stroking from Marissa's hand increased. Precum leaked through a special opening masquerading as vaginal secretions while creating a growing wet spot on Courtney's underwear. Eager to return the deed, she shifted one of her hands from Marissa's rump to the front and under her nightgown before finding its place on her panty-covered pussy. The stepmom and her stepdaughter were still in a deep passionate kiss as they mutually pleasured one another's most intimate areas. When the kiss had finally broken, Courtney took Marissa's hand and led her upstairs to the bedroom. The two lust-filled women stood at almost the same height by the lavish bed as they helped each other out of their sleepwear. With only her panties on, Courtney reached her hands around from behind to fondle at her stepmom's ample breasts. Their smooth skin grazing as they embraced. While Courtney was playing with the blonde's tits, her modest pregnant bump pushed against the stepmom's back. Her tucked-away cock was dying to explode out of the skinsuit as she bumped her hips against Marissa's pert derriere. Ignoring the existence of her manhood proved to be challenging as she proceeded with planting hickeys on Marissa's neck. By now, the phony Marissa was moaning to the relentless pleasures showered upon her heavenly form. The former Greg had enjoyed his session with Brenda Coburn when he was impersonating Maggie. He had assumed that nothing could beat the approach of the professor's wife - he couldn't be more wrong as Courtney inserted all of her slender fingers into her artificial cunt. It took no time for the stepdaughter to find his readily hard cock as she stroked his concealed member without releasing it from its impossibly tight confinement. "Oh... goodness... fuuuccckkk... Please honey, please... Let it out...!" Marissa begged as she felt the pleasures from the fondling of her breast and the pent up pressure from within her well-made snatch too much to handle. "Not before I fuck your brains out, mom..." Courtney said before adding, "Wait... That sounded so wrong... I think I should be addressing you as my slut from now on... Don't you agree... you worthless slut?" "Please... Courtney honey..." the false stepmother continued to plead as she witness the young lady turned into a dominant persona. That prompted Courtney to withdraw all her fingers from the youthful mother's vaginas in one swift motion. Greg's throbbing erection was still imprisoned within Marissa's bodysuit as Courtney roughly pushed the fellow impostor to the large King-size bed. Before Marissa could slide her hands down towards her drenching wet pussy, her daughter showed surprising strength to flip her onto her back. A forceful slap was swung across the blonde's face, effectively stunning her to submission. Pinning her stepmom down with both hands on her wrists Courtney lowered herself until her head was just beside Marissa's ear. Their nipples touching as their boobs pressed into one another before Courtney calmly turned her head and whispered, "If you don't do as I say, I'm never ever gonna let that cock out..." Mistress Courtney didn't wait for her slave to nod as she proceeded by kissing and sucking at Marissa's neck. Without having to look, the girl on the top briefly moved her hands away from her mom's wrist as she reached for the cloth tied to post of the lush crib. It had been used on Bob not too long ago and the idea of just leaving them in all the four bed posts seemed to have come in handy today. The mistress skillfully created a loop and a secure knots around each of Marissa's thin wrists. In no time, the blonde was incapacitated. The cloth at the bottom posts were not required as Courtney propped herself up resting her laurels on the slave's taunt midsection with her legs wide open. Out of nowhere, the dominant brunette roughly grabbed a handful of her stepmom's golden blonde tresses, lifting her head off the comfortable pillow before licking from the bottom of Marissa's perfect chin to the tip of her slightly upturned nose. If it had been the real Marissa, the young lady suspected that she could have detected the silicone on her surgery-contructed nose. The bodysuit gave nothing away as she released her grip to allow Mrs. Hopkins head back onto the soft linen. The fingers of Courtney's left hand which were busy kneading at her own nipple came down to join her right as they began squeezing and fondling mom's impressive set of racks until it became red and sore - another of the advancements of the bodysuit technology. Marissa was groaning in pain as Greg's brain inside of her Marissa-head gradually translated the stimulus into pleasures. Her slave's squeals and struggles to free herself from her restraints only served as a motivation for the mistress as she sneered at her subject. A malicious grin was apparent on Courtney's beautiful face as her abuse on the blonde's inflamed tits came to a halt. "You're loving this, don't you... Oh, you worthless, shameless slut... That's what you are," Courtney said before cupping her own mammary with her left svelte hand. Her right slid down over her pregnant bump towards the nether region as she started rubbing her clit with her long, slender digits. "I think it's about time to take this up a notch," the young mistress added as she slid her hand under her panties - shivering momentarily when half of her hand disappeared into her own cleanly shaven pussy. While she was doing so, Courtney shifted her position slowly as she moved her bottom down Marissa's petite figure. Using the shins of her legs, the younger woman made sure Marissa's thighs were kept apart as she allowed her rigid member to squeeze between her drenched vaginal lips and out over the waistband of her underwear. Her set of balls immediately followed as the former Frank reveled in the cold air against his exposed manhood. He wouldn't be getting tired of this feeling anytime soon. The precum was still flowing as 'Courtney' maneuvered her incongruous body part into her dad's second wife. The stepdaughter teased the head of her engorged member against Marissa's well-lubricated slit before very slowly pushing in - inch by inch. Dazed The real Marissa felt as if someone was hammering her head as she gradually regained consciousness to an oddly familiar voice. Her eyelids lifted to a dark surrounding as the familiar voice kept ringing from somewhere on the other side of the room. The intoxicating aroma of ladies perfume and the soft textures of expensive fabric brushing against her naked body as it hanged from above were hints to where she was being kept - Courtney's walk-in closet. "Oh please, I beg you my mistress... Shove it all in... Fuck me hard..." the familiar voice was groaning. Marissa tried to move but the effects of the drugs injected into her neck was still dominating her system. Her memories were hazy but at least it was returning bit by bit. She remembered the blurry vision of Courtney stripping her off her clothes while she laid paralyzed on her stepdaughter's large four-post bed. A laptop and some equipment were pulled out of a bag hidden in a secret compartment within the same closet Marissa was being kept now. She recalled some kind of probe was directed at her as Courtney scanned her body down to the tiniest details where she could even feel the device being pushed into her vagina. Marissa remembered the way her petite figure was being rolled over so that the scanning could be repeated over her back and her anus. She was taking shallow breaths through the bed linen before her head was turned sideways so that her airway wouldn't be obstructed. The position allowed her the view of Courtney making a phone call while she was interacting with her laptop. The portable computer was connected to what seemed like a 3D printer as some kind skin-like material was rolling out onto the carpeted floor. The empty skin-like thing was then hooked onto another peculiar looking device. Marissa could hardly blink as the skin-like thing grew into a humanoid form. It looked to her as if air was being blown into what must had been a bodysuit. If not for the paralysis, the real Marissa could have screamed at the sight of what transpired before her. A near- perfect copy of herself was standing and staring blankly past Courtney at the curtained windows. Everything of the air-filled 'doll' looked exactly like Marissa Hopkins except for its hairless head. That was when she recalled the pain of her beautiful blonde hair getting seized by an oversized helmet covering her head. She tried to fight back with all her might but her body still refused to budge. She could only feel tears rolled down her temple as each and every strand of her hair had been taken away. The same device was place over the 'doll's head as Marissa witnessed her tresses settled into their new home. "So, all I have to do is to download the software into the empty bodysuit and it will imitate my every move?" Marissa heard her stepdaughter asked through the phone. A few minutes of fiddling with the laptop and the doll, the incapacitated Marissa saw her doppelganger came to life mimicking Courtney's every move. The feeling of helplessness was quickly replaced by burning rage as the stepmother saw Courtney guided the Marissa-doll in putting on the clothes she had worn this morning for the surprise visit. Marissa was aware that she and her latest husband's daughter didn't get off to a great start when she first moved into the Hopkins but she had every intention to patch things up, provided that the little bitch stayed out of her way to her husband's fortune. Marissa could sense that something was out off place when Courtney had decided to marry and move in with her loser of a boyfriend. But never in a million years she would expect what she was seeing. It appeared to her that Courtney was planning to replace her with a damn doll which she was controlling. That little bitch was officially crazy. How could she take away someone else's life? Marissa again tried to move with all her might, and again, her body refused to comply. She saw her fully- dressed doll followed Courtney closely out of the bedroom door. Marissa thought she heard the crazy bitch said something about paying her neighbor a visit before she slipped back out of consciousness. And now, she was hearing this faintly recognizable voice moaning and begging her lover to screw her. Marissa was still pretty much helpless but at least she could now move her fingers a little. She could also turn her head slightly. With the lights escaping from the gaps of Courtney's closet door, Marissa could gain better perspective of her dimmed surrounding. The skin of her scalp brushed against the carpeted floor, reminding her that she was now a bald woman. That thought broke her heart. Despite the fact that she was regaining some of her mobility, the majority of her slender form was still immobile. However, her senses was returning and the lewd sounds of lovemaking became clearer by the minute. It took her a while before coming to a conclusion that not only the couple who were screwing out there were both women, one of them was Courtney while the other which sounded familiar was actually a perfect imitation of her own voice. Was Courtney fucking Marissa's doll? The bitch was crazier than she thought. "Yes... Yes... Fuck... Fuck... Harder... Please... Give it to me..." Marissa's voice squealing. "That hard enough... Huh... That hard enough for ya... Slut..." Courtney's voice said as the noises of two bodies humping became louder and faster. "Yes... Yes... Fuck... Fuck... I'm so fucking... cloooossseee..." Marissa's voice was groaning before the slapping sounds came to a sudden halt. Going with what she was hearing, the real Marissa could picture her pregnant stepdaughter ramming her stepmom's twin with a strap-on. But the upcoming exchanges became more and more confusing. "No, no, nooo... Why my mistress...? Why did you stop...?" the Marissa voice said. There was no reply as there were soft squishy noises accompanied by the grunts and groans of Marissa's voice. A sigh of relief by the same voice was swiftly followed by Courtney's commanding order. "Lay still, slut... I'm gonna shove your ugly cock into my ass..." By then, the real Marissa discovered that she was able to move her legs. She was gradually salvaging control over her body. Her arms too were stirring a little. Whatever her evil stepdaughter had introduced into her bloodstream, it was starting to wear off. Nevertheless, Marissa was still too weak to stand up. Casting aside some of Courtney's dresses, the hopeful blonde crawled her way towards the glimmer of lights shining through the bottom of the closet door. The reverberations of body running into each other and bed squeaking were getting louder as Marissa continued crawling on the carpet. The increased in clarity of the lustful moans and squeals only served as her motivation. She might be able to sneak her way out while the crazy bitch was busy fucking that doll. If only she could recuperate faster. With all her might, Marissa pushed her heavy body up so that she would be in a kneeling position. The closet door was within reach as she took a breather before marginally sliding the door open. A gap was made big enough for her to peek through just so she could assess the situation and find possible escape route. In spite of her dire condition, Marissa was surprisingly composed. Her desire to survive probably helped to settle her nerves. All that changed when she saw what was going on on the king-sized bed not too far away from her. The shock was mixed with confusion as she saw with her own eyes that Courtney was fist pumping her own cock while she was bouncing up and down the doppelganger's equally impressive fuckstick. From the way the bed was positioned in adjacent to the closet, the real stepmom could almost see the veins on Courtney's throbbing member and the darkened skin of their tightening and loosening with each strokes and penetration. Marissa had seen and used plenty of strap-on her whole life and she could immediately tell that there was no way those jutting out from Courtney and the doll were mere sex toys. "Oooh.... Fuck... I can't... hold back... any more... FUUUCCCKKK...!" the false Marissa screamed as her body trashed and jerked. White gooey substance could be seen leaking from Courtney's bottom around the doll's rock hard meat. If that wasn't clear enough, the real Marissa was in for a spectacular show as her evil stepdaughter started shouting obscenities like never before. The rhythm motions of her youthful form too was rapidly becoming erratic. After a few final pumps, Marissa watched with her hand covering her gawking mouth as Courtney shot loads after loads of cum from her crimson red cock. Her ejaculate travelled so far that the first load landed well beyond the false Marissa's head. The subsequent loads landed on her disheveled blonde hair, eyes, ears and nose. Some of them covered the doppelganger's right breast before Courtney finally lifted her ass off Marissa's rod so that she could squeeze the final few drops onto her flat tummy. What in the world was happening? How could her pregnant stepdaughter have a fully functional penis probing out of her vagina - with a set of hairy-looking balls to boot? The dumbfounded captive was so occupied with her puzzling thoughts that she didn't notice the closet door was sliding open from her weight against it. By the time she came to, it was all too late as she fell forward and out of the now wide opened wardrobe. She was sprawling on the bedroom floor barely a feet away from the lovemaking crib. Marissa could feel her heart rate rising, as she lifted her head ever so slowly to see if she had alerted her captors. Her answer was staring right at her over the bed. Courtney and the other Marissa were laying prone, propping themselves up on their elbows as they showered their gaze upon the real Marissa. It was the exact same look the carnivores had when their prey was trapped. Malicious grin dominated their beautiful faces. "Are you up for round two, mom?" Courtney asked the false Marissa. "Sure, Frank... I mean, Courtney... Guess I'm gonna find out what it's like to fuck a real cunt after all..." Marissa's twin said. The real Marissa couldn't move a finger. Lost Agent Quentin Fernandez was sitting alone in a quiet bar somewhere on the outskirts of Brooklyn. He downed another shot of whiskey before requesting for a refill. The bartender was looking worried. Most of the patrons have left as Fernandez reflected on the toughest 24 hours of his career. His planned exposure of the organization's plot went up in smoke when his team found nothing in Maggie Chaplin's property. Apart from finger prints and human hair belonging to Maggie, Brenda Coburn, Courtney Donovan and Marissa Hopkins, there was nothing of significance. If that wasn't bad enough, all of the evidence and phone recordings from his spy at the lab had gone missing. When he and Agent Peterson made it back to their office, they found their digitally secured cabinet to have been opened. The CDs, thumbdrives and paperwork had all vanished. Even their server had been hacked as all their hard drives had been wiped clean. Agent Fernandez hastily took off from the headquarters only to find that even his apartment had been broken in. His laptop and tablet had been stolen. When he took his cell phone out of his pocket, he was almost amazed with the efficiency of his enemy as even his phone had been wiped clean with some kind of virus. As a result, Brenda Coburn and officer Deborah le Blanc had to be released within hours of their 'unlawful' arrests as there were no evidence of their involvement with the absurd accusations the FBI's record department. Needless to say, no warrant had been granted for the questioning of the Donovans as well as thorough physical examination of Mrs. Coburn and officer Le Blanc. Instead, the lawyers representing them stating that their intentions to volunteer for a full gynecology inspection before taking legal action against the Agency to prove their innocence. His three years partnership with Agent Peterson was going south in double quick time as well. Only he and his partner knew the existence of these evidence. So it was natural for him to suspect the usually reliable agent of destroying them. Zoey insisted her innocence and instead pointing her finger back at Fernandez. Now that the booze had cleared his mind somewhat, Fernandez realized that he might have jumped the gun on the poor girl. The leak could have come from their undercover when the lab was burnt down. If they were merciless enough in dealing with their own scientists, God knows what kind of torture they had used to extract information from Fernandez's source. That might had been how Agent Fernandez and Agent Peterson's operation was exposed. After downing the final round of his liquor, the recently suspended Federal agent paid the bartender before leaving. The disappointment was immeasurable but now he had to deal with the guilt for the way he acted towards Zoey. They shared equal responsibility on the failure. Fernandez had no right in accusing her for everything that had gone wrong. Maybe, he should just man up and apologize. The cold wind of an autumn night swept against his cheeks as he walked with his hands in the pockets of his trench coat. The ultimate fate of Ms. Chaplin continued to worry him. It was another responsibility which he failed after she was admitted to a mental institution for a proper psychiatric evaluation. Fernandez felt that he had let her down. Coming to the doorstep of his modest residence, the person he saw sitting there warmed his heart considerably. In her more casual attire of body-hugging shirt underneath a double-breasted coat, tight blue jeans and heeled boots, Zoey Peterson sat beside the door holding a bottle of bourbon on her lap. Fernandez couldn't help but smile at the young lady as he held out a hand. Agent Peterson looked up and smiled back as she accepted her senior's hand, pulling her up onto her feet. Even with the 3 inches of heel on her boots, the brunette stood a few inches shorter than Fernandez. "Look... Peterson, I think I owe you an apology..." Fernandez was trying to say before being cut off. "You think?! I suggest you stop being such a crybaby about everything and invite this freezing lady into your apartment. I need more than this coat to keep my skinny body warm tonight," Peterson said, indicating the bottle of good liquor in her hand. Fernandez laughed at the word 'skinny' as he had always thought of her as being in just the right physical proportion that most women out there would have died for. If not for her constantly looking stern and serious, Zoey could easily passed as a strikingly beautiful lady. Their working relations and the age gap was his only reasons not to pursue the female agent. Last he heard, the 32 year-old was still single. Within minutes, the two about-to-be-transfered federal agents sat on the couch in Quentin's small living area, enjoying the burning heat of bourbon down their throat. They talked about the possibility of the leak and the possibility of Senator's Clarke men within the FBI responsible for the evidence wipeout. While Quentin was on the topic of the Records Department getting disbanded, he felt progressive weakness all over his limbs. That was when the veteran agent saw Zoey retrieved a tiny flask out of the pocket of her coat. "Are you alright... Quentin?" the female agent asked with a concern look on her face before taking a swig from the flask. "I... Arrrr... Nonnn... phiiellll... wellll...." unintelligible words came out of Quentin's mouth. "What? I can't understand a thing that you're saying... Oh, right... Probably because you don't have this," Zoey said, showing off the flask which she had just emptied. "This is the antidote to the slow-acting paralyzing medicine I've added to the liquor we're just enjoying," Zoey's looks of concern had completely been replaced by the smug agent Fernandez had recognized during the first time she had outsmarted a criminal when she was just his understudy. "You see... Senator Clarke's pawns had nothing to do with the disappearance of the evidence. Nor does the organization have any clue what was going on," Zoey said as she slowly stood up, leaving her coat on the couch. "You were right all along... I'm the one destroying all the evidence on the existence of the organization and Senator Clarke's plans," added the brunette as she came to a halt in front of the 'frozen' 47 year- old. "The burning question you must be having right now is: Why am I doing this? Why am I helping the organization if I'm not affiliated to them or the Senator," with one swift motion, Zoey lifted the bottom of her long-sleeved shirt up and over her head. Agent Fernandez could only move his eyes as all of his voluntary muscles had been disabled. The most he could achieve was a blink when the specter of Zoey's alluring form in black brassiere, long jeans and boots stood before him. He was right about the feminine curves hidden under all that ruggedness she had always tended to portray as her boobs were barely contained by the lingerie. Her short chestnut hair was a little disheveled as her hands traced the sides of her body to further outline her slender figure. That was the most womanly act Fernandez had