Cat And Mouse - A Cresswell Industries Story Pts 3 And 4 free porn video

III: Baiting the Hook The skies were dark blue when Rita's Porsche pulled up in front of Timmy's house. He was terribly worried that his mom was going to be out in front of the door waiting for him with an angry look on her face, but there was no one there. The lights inside the house, however, were still on. Rita was nice enough to undo the hairstyle she had given him, restoring his fuller hair to its original appearance, and she allowed him to wash off the makeup she had applied. This after a surprisingly delicious salad they both had for lunch. He particularly liked the salad dressing, which had a delectably spicy touch to it. He had his male clothes back on, although they felt odd on his moistened body. He felt a kind of humidity in having them on his body. It was not an uncomfortable feeling, but it was kind of weird to him. He flashed a sweet smile for Rita when he turned his head to her. "Thank yoooou, Madame Noble." "You get plenty of sleep tonight so you'll be all good and ready to get that job tomorrow," Rita advised. "Now I am busy all week, but if you stop by the park on a weekend, you may just see me there, dear. Just like you saw me there this morning." He still had that sweet smile on his face as he tilted his head to the side, still feeling a bit buttery in the head. "Okaaaaayyyy." He then opened the car door and stepped out. He then turned and gave a parting wave which Rita couldn't help but smile in amusement when she saw, as the wave looked quite girlish in its appearance. The car pulled slowly away from the curb before speeding away, while Timmy felt slightly dizzy as he walked up to the front door of his house. He also let out a bit of a giggle as he moved. The door was open, and he stepped right on in. As he needed to move through the living room, where the lights were still on, he knew he might be caught seeing his mother watching a TV show of some sort. She had taken the DVD player with them, so she was likely watching one of the nighttime courtroom dramas she enjoyed watching. And there she was, in the living room's easy chair, sitting in front of the TV set, watching a DVD containing three episodes of her favorite courtroom drama. There was no avoiding her, as the chair was not positioned away from the path Timmy needed to take to get through the living room. The show was paused when Ruth spotted her son, and she looked at him with a surprisingly neutral expression. "Hello, dear. How was your day in town?" Timmy rubbed the back of his moistened neck nervously as he answered. "Uh...good, good. I-I'm sorry I'm back so late." Ruth just shrugged, not looking angry at all. "That's okay, dear. You're back home. That's all that matters." She then began sniffing around. "Mmm...what's that smell? Have you been eating oranges, dear?" "Oranges? Oh, oh yes." He struggled to think of an excuse. "Uhhh...I had a few, um, oranges at this place in town. Went there after I had some lunch. I...I used the leftover money from the suit. I hope you don't mind." "Oh, don't worry, dear. That's your money anyway. You don't even have to pay me back." Ruth assured, looking quite sincere and strangely pleasant. "We both have big things to look forward to tomorrow, after all. I have orientation tomorrow at my new job, and you're going for that interview in your nice new suit. I really hope you get that job, honey." Timmy caught himself giggling sweetly. "Oh, god...I hope so toooo. I wanna be able to pay for my own things, just like you always wanted me to." "Good, good. Well...I want to get this episode finished." Ruth gestured to the TV. "You should start getting ready for bed yourself. Earlier you get to bed, the more energy you'll have for that job interview tomorrow, right?" "Uh huh!" He nodded eagerly. "Okaaayy, have a good night, mommy!" Hurrying off to his room, he was quick to strip off all of his clothes the moment the door had closed behind him. Totally naked once again, he gazed down at his smooth, moist body, running his hands along its soft surfaces in reminiscence of the incredible time he had with Rita Noble. He remained naked when he turned the lights off, slipped under the covers of his bed and gradually drifted off to sleep. Rita was right. This body of his would be covered by the suit, so there would be no real suspicions of him looking unusual. As his eyelids began to close, he found himself looking forward to better days in his new home. * * * Julia Stroud, sitting idle in her office all by herself, heard the purrs of Rita's phone line ringing for about three cycles when her phone finally clicked on. "Hello, Mayoress." "Good evening, Rita," Julia returned. "So I guess you completely ignored my request to leave that Portnoy kid alone." "Uh, no. He came to me, Mayoress," Rita responded. "I just happened to be idle in the park, going through one of our magazines, getting some ideas for the next issue." "And...he came to you," Julia remarked. "Why?" "He wanted to thank me for those job offers I left for him, of course." Rita replied. "You know...the ones we set up for him." "Right, and they're all prepared to take him right in if he comes calling," Julia noted. "What about his mother? I meant to ask you about that." "That was a little more entertaining. At first," Rita answered. "My tea loosened her up a bit, though. She'll be a little less hard on her son from now on, and she did express interest in joining my debutantes meetings. I think it's safe to say we have her." "I'm a bit curious to see how she fares on that executive board," Julia wondered aloud. "If she becomes difficult, we'll just get her over to the salon and, well, you know the rest." "Naturally," Rita responded. "Did Timmy mention anything about Maggie while he was with you?" "Not at all," Rita answered. "Seems he was quite transfixed on my lovely curves. I can't wait to give him his own once we've dealt with that bitch." "I hope we can deal with that bitch," Julia replied. "So what do you have in store for Timmy? New maid to replace Rhoda?" "No," Rita answered. "That boy is going to become the hottest, and the most curvaceous little minx in Bullchester. She'll be my pet, my plaything, my stress relief after a hard day's work." "Despite the fact that Timmy is nothing at all like his dad?" "That's just it. I can't get even with Brock himself after what happened to him," Rita responded. "But now, I have his only son...and believe me, Mayoress. The taste of revenge will be very sweet by the time I've finished turning Timmy into my lascivious little slut." "Just because of a bad summer camp experience," Julia mused. "I'm amazed, after so many years, that you still carry that grudge." "Bullying does leave lasting scars, Mayoress. Especially if the bully gets away with it. The moment I learned Timmy's last name, it all came back to me," Rita noted. "I don't want to hurt Brock's son over it, though. After all, I know what it's like to have a son myself. Besides...Timmy really enjoyed himself today when he was with me. The subtle approach is working out just fine. First, he will crumble, and then? He will jiggle." "Assuming Maggie doesn't pull Timmy away from you first," Julia mused. "And then break you in half." "Like she nearly broke your arm?" Rita shot back. "Did that boo-boo heal yet? Or are you still nursing it?" "That's not funny, bitch," Julia growled, still feeling the throbbing in her sore arm. "Might we have an invitation to the Halloween party at Cincher's sent to him?" Rita then asked. "I figured that would be a good way for you to actually meet him without him getting all worried." Julia thought on this for a moment, and then nodded. "All right. I'll have it in the mail tomorrow. I'll have your invitation sent as well. Maybe with his mommy being a little more agreeable, he can buy him a costume." "Oh, I have just the thing for him to wear, actually," Rita noted. "If you'll permit me, that is." Julia frowned in her curiosity. "What kind of costume did you have in mind?" When Rita told her the costume item number, Julia quickly looked it up online, going to the Bullchester costume store's website and entering the number. What she saw made her flash a full grin. "Mmmmm...I like it," Julia mused. "Yeah...it's perfect." * * * Timmy awoke with a bit of a headache following his dreamless sleep. Although he never drank alcohol, what he was feeling was nevertheless the closest thing to a hangover. His first instinct upon waking up was to check his body, and he found that the moisture Rita's body wash had given him still lingered upon him. Crossing his arms in front of him, and rubbing at his own shoulders approvingly, he had to smile. It's gonna be under your clothes anyway, he reminded himself. Checking the clock, he had actually risen an hour before his mother needed to get up, and he had a good two hours before he needed to get on the bus to head over to the attorney's workplace, which was a nice little home within the Bullchester suburbs. Plenty of time to get dressed and prepared, and have a touch of breakfast before heading out. Looking in the mirror in his room at his own bare body, he wondered how long the body wash's moisturization effect would last. He figured tonight's shower would more or less clean it all off. A part of him was tempted to stop over at Rita's place, somehow, and ask for some of those tablets so that he could give himself a body wash. He loved how the stuff made his body look, and feel. Such was the feeling of the suit on his body that he had to check and see that the suit wasn't showing any wet spots from the feeling of dampness that came with the clothes being upon his skin, but no such spots could be seen. He fixed his fuller hair up a little bit and then stepped out to follow the smell of the breakfast that Ruth was preparing for him. "You know...you never told me about the business you're becoming an executive for," Timmy remarked as he began eating. "You never asked, sweetie," Ruth mused as she settled into her place at the kitchen table. "I am now on the executive board at Loris International's main offices in Bullchester. I'm hoping to make a big impact on that board. I was just meeting with the head of the company yesterday, in fact. I wasn't expecting her, either." And now, Timmy had his explanation for Rita being at his house. Rita was going to be his mother's boss. He couldn't help but smile over that thought. "She has such an unusual appearance, too, for a CEO," Ruth continued. "I guess I was expecting someone in a full business suit. But, I figure that if their business is basically fashion and beauty, she should look the part." "I'm sure you'll do just fine on that board, mom." "And I'm sure you'll come home later today to tell me you have a new job," Ruth punctuated this statement with a wink as she took in another helping of her meal. Timmy shrugged at this. "I guess that's up to Mr. Hanel." "Now remember, dear...you need to present yourself as someone who will do as your employer asks, no matter how difficult it may seem," Ruth noted, sounding like the strict woman she was before meeting Rita. "If things become difficult, you need to stay with the job you have..." "...while I look for a new job. I know." Timmy nodded as he finished Ruth's advice, which he had obviously heard more than once. "I just hope I can find the place. I get so nervous when I look for someplace I've never been to before." As they had both finished their breakfast, Ruth motioned for Timmy to follow her, and they went over to her computer. As it was already powered up, Ruth looked up the locale as Timmy watched. In the clicks of a couple of hyperlinks, the smartly-dressed businesswoman was able to get the info she needed from a map on Bullchester's bus company website. "Hmmm...looks like you'll have a bit of a walk from the nearest bus stop, dear," Ruth observed. "Which means you should get an early start so you can get there in time. The worst thing you could possibly do when attending a job interview is to get there late." Checking the time on the computer, he realized he needed to get underway. "I'd better get going, then." He then kissed her on the cheek. "Thanks, mom. I'll see you later!" "Good luck, sweetheart!" Ruth gave a parting wave, smiling, as her son disappeared out the front door. She then went to her own makeup table to begin preparing for her own first day on the job as one of the ambitious executives of Loris International. She hoped that Rita had more of that delicious tea she had brought for their first meeting. * * * Stepping off at the necessary stop, Timmy quite literally felt like he was in the middle of nowhere. Nothing seemed familiar to him at all, and having looked over the map with his mother was hardly of any help. But there were at least street signs and house numbers he could follow. With his mind diverted by thoughts of being with Rita the previous day, however, he wandered a bit too far down a long road and had effectively gotten himself lost. Although the suburban houses around him looked nice enough, with a large castle estate of some kind looming large in the distance, he was losing the precious time he needed to be able to get to Lawrence Hanel's business locale on time, if not early enough to impress his potential employer. A really nice-looking car casually rolled down the street as Timmy walked. The car began to slow down a bit, however, as it neared the lost young man. Rolling down the window of the passenger side, the car's occupant...a very attractive-looking older lady...smiled to Timmy before addressing him. "Hi there! Are you lost?" "Huh? Oh, yeah..." Timmy blushed, lowering his head in embarrassment. "...and I really don't want to be late for this interview." "Job interview, eh? Come on over here. I know this area pretty well," The pleasant-looking woman responded. "Maybe I can help you out. My name's Judith. Judith Newlington." "Timmy Portnoy. Nice to meet you." He nodded cordially as he handed Judith the paper he had written with the directions. "Ouch. You really strayed far from your path, dear," she observed as she handed the paper back to the now very worried Timmy. "But it's actually not very far from where you are now. Can you trust me to give you a lift, dear?" Timmy's eyes widened. "Could you? That would be sooo awesome!" "Ehh, sure. Jump in the back. I'll get you where you need to go. Door should be open," Judith advised, and Timmy placed himself onto the comfy back seats of the vehicle. Once he had his seatbelt fastened, Judith got the car moving once again. "Would you mind if I put some music on, dear?" Judith asked. "I had just come out of a busy meeting myself." Timmy shrugged. "Sure." The music Judith started playing sounded quite soothing to Timmy's young ears as the car continued to move through the suburban streets at a pleasantly smooth pace. "Getting yourself lost like that is a bit embarrassing, dear. You should always concentrate on getting to work on time, and getting up as early as possible so you can walk the route as if you were blindfolded. Address your female employers as 'miss', or 'madam', and male employers as 'sir' at all times when you speak to them. Beautiful things will happen to you if you maintain this routine. Do you understand, Timmy?" "Uhhh...uh...yes, yes, Miss Newlington." Although Timmy felt very relaxed between the sweet scent of the car's interior and the lovely- sounding music, he was able to pick up on Judith's words quite clearly as they melded into his subconscious mind. The car then came to a halt, and Judith turned her head to the back seat. "OK, dear. Last stop. Good luck on that job interview!" "Oh! Thanks, Miss Newlington." He opened up the car door and hopped out. He then gave the attractive woman a wave. "I really appreciate this! Nice to meet you!" She gave Timmy a wink before driving away, and the young man checked his watch. He was ten minutes early! His only concern now was that Lawrence Hanel had not arrived yet. Still, to see that Timmy was already at the front door, eager to begin the interview would show that he could be exceptionally punctual. Curious, he gave the house's doorbell a push, feeling a little nervous over meeting someone new. But when his eyes fell upon the man who answered the door, he found his appearance...right down to the very same suit in the picture at Rita's place...completely familiar. "Mornin'!" The man, who had a pleasant smile on his face, opened the door wide. "Larry Hanel. You must be Timothy," He then held out a hand. "Nice t' meet'cha, sport!" Timmy smiled as he took the hand of the larger man. "Hi. Nice to meet you too. I...hope I didn't interrupt anything. I know I'm early." "Naaah, don't worry 'bout it. Here, c'mon in," He stepped to the side to allow the young man to step past. Prominent on the front wall were a couple of framed certfications, which Timmy stepped over to look at as Larry closed the door. "Yeap...that's th' first thing I want people t' see when they come in. I want them t' know they're dealin' with a real live attorney. I want 'em t' be able t' say 'Larry an' me, always scot-free'! Heh, heh, heh..." Obviously the exact words from the gold plate beneath the picture at Rita's estate. He couldn't help but wonder now if this was all being arranged for him. Not that it would matter much if it were true. As long as he was being paid for his work. "Follow me inside there, sport," Timmy picked up on a hint of a southern accent as Larry spoke as the attorney led the young man further inside to the house's living room, which had a warm fireplace lit. Near this fireplace was a desk with a nice-looking desktop computer upon it, and a comfy-looking chair. The nameplate at the front of the desk, however, was blank. "If things work out, that desk there'll be yours," Larry explained. "I keep th' fire there nice an' comfy durin' th' Fall an' Winter months, an' close it up otherwise. That computer there's just about th' best money can buy, too. Y' might wanna keep that Speakabout app open in case I wanna zap you a request from inside my own office, which is right through that door there," He indicated the door in question. "I'll also expect you t' answer th' door whenever anyone comes a-visitin', an' put on a real nice face to represent me well by. Sound good, sport?" Timmy nodded. "Yes, sir." "Good, good." Larry then frowned a bit, getting a closer look at Timmy's moistened face. Shit. Tommy thought to himself, trying not to let it show in his face. Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit...! "Say, uh...I hope you don't mind my sayin' so, but..." Larry continued to look upon Timmy's face with a more discerning eye. "...you've got an awfully clear complexion there for a boy. You have, uh...petroleum jelly on you or somethin'?" Timmy shook his head, now feeling very nervous. "N-no, sir." Larry then shrugged, smiling. "Well, it's...not like such things get in th' way o' typin', right? Or takin' dictation? Hell, that'd even make y' look all th' nicer when you're bringin' my clients in!" Timmy smiled at this, relieved that Larry was obviously a tolerant sort of person. "Have a seat on that guest couch there, sport." Larry gestured to the comfy couch on the opposite side of where the secretary desk was, and they both settled into it at the same time. "Okay, so...three things need to be important to anyone who works for me. I like t' think of 'em as tests, to which each of 'em have my three-strikes rule. Strike one, y' get a warnin'. Strike two, I dock you a week's pay. Strike three, I'll need t' find myself a new secretary. Now I really, really hate givin' out strikes, but...if your bein' early today is any indication? You already passed my first test with flyin' colors. Punctuality. I only give five minutes grace if you're late. Beyond that? Strike one." "Yes, sir," Timmy responded. "Number two? Attentiveness," Larry continued. "You're gonna take dictation for me today. There's a pad an' pen on top o' that desk there, an' I need you t' be able to write up whatever I say. I always try t' speak nice an' easy, so...don't worry 'bout me gettin' ahead of ya. Only way you get strikes is if y' forget to type out my dictation. If it isn't ready for me by the day's end? Strike one." "Yes, sir," Timmy replied, listening very carefully and absorbing the man's words as he said them. "Number three? Confidence," Larry remarked. "I don't want some nervous nelly answerin' my door, 'cause clients could take advantage o' that. I need you t' be as professional as y' can when you're answerin' phones or invitin' people in. Only thing this area needs is a coffee maker, an' that's somethin' I'm gonna fix today aft'r lunch. You need t' be on th' spot with that there phone, Timmy, an' be ready t' get tough if anyone tries t' get fresh with ya. Also...I don't want personal calls on that line. Business only, an' unless it's real import'nt? Try not t' linger on a single phone call for too long. I catch you doin' any personal calls? Strike one. I find out someone got a confidential file off o' you 'cause they were able to intimidate you into givin' it up? That's three strikes in one shot, Timmy." "I won't let that happen, sir," Timmy assured. "I promise." "Good, good," Larry nodded, the cordial smile back on his face. "Oh, there's one other thing I should mention here, sport. Now, you're new t' Bullchester, right?" "Well, we live just outside of Bullchester, but...yeah. My mom and I arrived Saturday." "And, uh...you notice that there is...an awful lot o' women, an...crossdressin' women here as well?" Larry then asked, in a bit of a confidential tone. Timmy nodded slowly. "Yes, s-sir." "Well, like I said. As long as you keep up that punctuality, your attentiveness, an' your confidence, I don't much care how girly y' might look now, or later," Larry noted. "I don't care if y' come in here with rainbow hair, or an hourglass shape. Just as long as y' dress presentably, an' you're good on those three things we just went over, sport. Okay?" Timmy nodded, smiling over this part. "Yes, sir." Larry smiled back. "Okay then! Get on over t' that desk an' grab that pad an' pen, 'cause it's time t' put you t' work. Copy everythin' I say as I say it. Oh...an' if y' win this job, payday is every two weeks, y' get your check on Thursday." Timmy nodded in acknowledgement as he went over and grabbed the indicated pen and pad, both of which looked new and unused. Going back over to the couch, he settled into it as Larry rose to his feet. He then began to pace back and forth slowly, and started speaking. Timmy began writing every word of his dictation out, which apparently had something to do with a lawsuit matter. Apparently, a woman wanted to sue a man for every penny of his inherited fortune over a marital indiscretion. Timmy kept quiet, never saying one word of commentary as he wrote out every word Larry spoke. There were moments in which Larry had Timmy read out what he had dictated, and he sometimes had Timmy cross out entire sentences, replacing them with corrected dictation. Once he finished speaking, Larry had Timmy follow him into his office, which had many boxes, some of which were opened and had many files in them. The place had the appearance of someone just moving in. "Sorry for how things look in here, but...I'm actually kinda new t' Bullchester myself, seein' as how a lot o' my clients are from here. I moved in a couple o' weeks ago with th' help o' one o' my past clients who was movin' here too. I'm still gettin' th' place straightened out." "Would you like me to help you with that, sir?" Timmy asked. "Why, that would be right nice of you, sport. Thank you!" Larry nodded appreciatively as he spoke. "But first...the computer at your desk won't be ready t' use until I actually hire someone, so just for today, you're gonna tap out that dictation on my own system here. Just...double click on that file there...there ya go...an' you'll see that th' necessary margins are already in place. Now, do y' have any typin' skills at all?" "I had a course in my Sophomore year at High School, sir," Timmy answered. "Ah, good, good. Very good. I won't need t' get you on my typin' tutor program then," Larry responded smiling. "Okay, then! Settle yourself right in my seat while I head out t' town for a few minutes. If anyone calls, it's 'Lawrence Hanel's office, Timothy speakin', how may I help you'. Be ready t' take messages an' phone numbers. Sound good, sport?" "Yes, sir." "Good, good. Now you go on an' get right t' work on that dictation, and I'll be back in a few minutes." He then closed the door behind him, leaving Timmy alone in the room, looking down at his own dictation notes. Placing his hands on the keyboard, he began typing upon the keys as the front door to Larry's home was closed shut. Timmy's fingers were a little slow at first, but they gradually picked up speed. He made sure there were no typos whatsoever as he worked. Within about ten minutes, the dictation was fully transposed to the computer's monitor. Clicking the 'print' button of the WordProc program...which was part of the popular and widely-used "Proc" productivity suite...he heard a nearby printer come to life, its gears quietly whirring and a fan activating as a page slowly came forth from within the machine. The phone rang next, and he picked it up. "Lawrence Hanel's office, Timothy speaking, may I help you?" "Ah, good morning dear," the familiar female voice began. "Is Lawrence there?" The voice was unmistakably Rita's. He kept his tone down-to-business. "Uh, no, he's not here at the moment. He stepped out. May I take a message?" "Hmmm...no, I'll call him again later," Rita replied. "Just let him know Rita Noble called, please. He has my number." Flipping to a fresh page of his pad, he wrote in the day's date and time, and noted Rita's call. "Yyyyes, Madame Noble." "Good girl. How are things there so far?" Rita then asked. "Nice, but...I can't stay on the line, Madame Noble," Timmy answered. "Lawrence doesn't want any personal calls on this line." "Ah. Then I look forward to the day when you actually get your first cell phone," Rita mused. "Keep up the good work, Timothy. I think you have this one in the bag. Have a great day, sweetie." Although he clearly heard Rita say the words 'good girl', he wasn't terribly bothered by it. Timmy mused to himself that she was likely giving him a jab over the fact that this was usually a position popularly taken by women. Another call followed minutes later as he sat idly. Once again, Timmy put on his professional voice, and this time took down a more important message, this one from another female client. The phone rang once again, and Timmy picked up. "Lawrence Hanel's office, Timothy speaking, may I help you?" The husky voice that spoke on the other line was unmistakably Maggie's. "Good luck getting that job, sweetie. I'll see you again. I promise." *CLICK* Timmy slowly put the receiver back down, his thoughts now of the other older and highly attractive woman in his brand new Bullchester life. The sound of a car pulling into the place's driveway, however, brought him back to reality as Larry made his way back inside the house. "How're we doin', sport?" he asked as his hands rubbed together expectantly. "I have your dictation ready, sir," Timmy reported, handing the page to him. "I printed it out." Taking the page from the young man, he looked it over very carefully, glancing up to Timmy with a serious expression every so often. He then hung his hands down and looked up at Timmy, one of his hands still holding the page. "Strike one, kid." Timmy's eyes widened in horror. "What?? But...but I..." "GOTCHA!!" Larry then laughed aloud. "I'm just funnin', sport! This page is as perfect as perfect gets! Good job there!" Although it was a rotten joke to play on him, Timmy still managed to chuckle a little as Larry stepped in towards him in consolation. "I'm sorry 'bout that, Timmy," Larry assured. "Sometimes, my bad sense o' humor gets a lil' under the skin there. I assure ya, y' did just fine," He then picked up the pad with the phone messages. "I see I got a couple o' calls, too! Looks like y' been holdin' down this here fort just fine, sport!" He then looked over Timmy's notes, murmuring as his eyes scanned them. "Hmmm...okay, yeah, she's got that saddlebagged...oh, Rita called. Awful nice of 'er," He then looked back up to Timmy. "You know Rita Noble? She's one of th' town's heavy-hitters." Timmy nodded. "I know her, sir. She...was nice enough to show me around town...once or twice..." "Uh-huh. I'm guessin' she had you messin' with a dermatologist there, eh?" Larry added a wink to this. "Yeah, she's one o' my more frequent clients. In fact, y' could say it's 'cause o' her that I was able t' make th' jump on over t' Bullchester to begin with! I, uh...try to keep my dealin's with 'er strictly business, though. Sometimes, I wonder what goes on in that big ol' estate she lives in." "So, you're an attorney for Loris International?" Timmy asked. "Well, more like an attorney that's frequently brought in by Loris t' help with legal matters," Larry explained. "I'm all 'bout me, myself, an' I when it comes to my practice, though. I don't stick t' one exclusive client for any big ol' length o' time. I keep my client list diverse, as you'll soon see. Okay! Why don't y' come with me back outside, then?" Timmy followed Larry out, and Larry gestured to the seat at the secretary desk. "Settle on in there. Now there's only two workin' buttons on that phone there. Red one sends th' call t' me, the other one holds th' call. Now I'm expectin' a couple o' visitors, so I'm puttin' you on station out here. Don't let me down now, or it really will be strike one. Got that, sport?" "Yes, sir," Timmy nodded in emphasis. "Good, good," Larry replied. "I should let y' know that I'm actually thinkin' o' renderin' my decision 'bout you after the hour-long lunch break...an' so far? It's lookin' real good for ya." "Thank you, sir," Timmy acknowledged. Larry then closed the door behind him and left the young man alone at the desk. About half an hour later, the doorbell rang. As his over-eagerness kept him more or less awake, he was quick to rise out of the chair and head over to the front door. Looking down at himself, he confirmed that the damp feeling in his skin wasn't creating wet spots on his white dress shirt, and he opened the door to let a mother, a father, and a teenage boy in, keeping as professional a demeanor as possible. Timmy directed them to sit on the couch, after which he went to the phone and hit the red button. Confirming that this was, indeed, one of his scheduled appointments for the day, he replied that he would be out in a minute. Timmy repeated this to the family unit before going back to the seat behind the desk. Timmy couldn't help but overhear the conversation that ensued, much as he visibly paid no heed to it... "How much you think we can get off of those bitches?" The adolescent boy asked his father. "Depends on whether or not we can prove it in court, son," the father replied. "I still think you're both wasting your time," The somewhat uppity- looking mother huffed. "Feetham's has an impeccable reputation in Bullchester's educational community." "That still didn't stop that principal bitch from feeling me up!" The teenager countered. "My butt still hurts!" "Well, if your grades are any justification, I'd say the corporal punishment is well-deserved, Leon," the mother scolded. "Oh, I might have something to say about that, Maris," The father remarked. "I'm not about to keep my son in a school that thinks pain is an adequate way to teach their students." "We should squeeze that fuckin' school of every damn penny, dad!" Leon raised his fist in emphasis. It was at that point that Larry finally emerged from his office to greet the family, which he took into the office, giving Timmy a wink and a raised thumb in appraisal. Once the door was closed, Timmy heaved a sigh of relief. He felt an urge to strip down and once again stare upon his own moisturized, hairless body. He could still smell the orange scent coming off of his body as he sat idly, keeping an eye on things in the otherwise quiet area he was sitting in. He heard murmurs coming from inside the office next door, and even a few raised voices. He wondered if the family would storm out at any minute in disgust, but that never happened. The phone rang again, and once again, it was another client from which he took a message regarding a legal matter. Behind that call came another one. And another. For each one, Timmy wrote in the message. Finally, the door to Larry's office opened, and the family stepped out. Leon and his father did not look happy at all, but Maris had a more satisfied look on her face. The attorney led them to the front door, and when it was closed, Larry let out his own sigh of relief. He walked over to where Timmy was sitting with a cordial smile on his face. "One other thing, now that I think of it. Unless I wanna open up about it? Don't ask me 'bout my cases, sport." "It's none of my business anyway, sir," Timmy replied. Larry nodded. "I like your attitude already, Timbo." He looked over the messages Timmy handed him, and he gave them a nod of acknowledgement. "I can address these later. Up for some lunch? It's 'bout that time." "Yes, sir," Timmy answered, smiling. "Good. I know a place in town that makes good sammiches an' even better burgers." Larry gestured to the front door. "Let's go!" * * * As much as her son was eager to launch into his own job opportunity, his mother Ruth was just as eager to be a part of her first board meeting that morning. The subject of her first meeting? A chat regarding the popularity of the chat messenger system called "Speakabout", which they had licensed off of the Swedish programmer who introduced the useful chat widget to them. Sitting in on the meeting, shooting a glance to Ruth every now and then, was a man who was introduced as Brent. Perpetually serious throughout the proceedings, he was very silent as the presentations continued. One of the executives noted that some of the users were complaining about the need to pay to download the app while other alternatives were being offered for free. Ruth was able to provide the reasoning based on her own knowledge. Those other apps were plagued by bugs and were unreliable, whereas Speakabout was being constantly updated and its problems patched within days of such problems being reported. The price tag was also feasibly low, as it was only $5, and it was a one- time payment for unlimited use of the app. Versions were not only on desktops, but mobile devices and smartphones as well. As it was noon by the time the meeting ended, Ruth figured she'd head back down to the lobby level and find someplace in town to get something to eat, and she went into a waiting elevator. Brent, however, hurried in and tapped a floor level for the tall building they were in, which was the top level. Ruth frowned in her disdain. "Uh, Brent? This elevator was going..." The doors slid shut, leaving them both alone in the car as it began to move up. "I need to talk to you, Miss Portnoy," Brent interjected. "But not before commending you on how well you did in there. You really shot that guy down." "Yes, well...a mere five dollar bill wouldn't impoverish most people," Ruth replied. "Besides...if you're paying that reasonable a price, it does tend to carry a kind of quality assurance. Particularly if the company is as reputable as Loris International." "Yeah. Kind of strange that a company that specializes in beauty products and magazines would suddenly want to branch out into technology, don't you think?" Brent observed. Ruth shrugged. "It's not like we're turning over a new leaf, Brent." "No, but others in Bullchester have done that," Brent thoughtfully replied. "And in some cases? Against their will." Ruth frowned at this. "Excuse me?" "You're new here, so I wanted to give you a word of warning, Miss Portnoy," Brent explained, keeping his voice low. "You may be doing fine now, but...God help you if you get in the way of certain women here in town, and this includes the head of Loris International herself." The new executive arched an eyebrow. "What, are you telling me there's some kind of conspiracy evident?" "Well, I'm sure you've seen that the man-woman ratio in Bullchester has been mostly in favor of the ladies, right?" Ruth frowned once again. "Your point?" Brent sighed aloud. "Just do yourself a favor, Miss Portnoy," The elevator finally reached the top floor, and when the doors opened, Brent stepped out. Before the doors closed, he gave Ruth one more ominous bit of advice. "If they ever invite you to go to a place called the Butterfly Salon? Do NOT go." The doors remained open long enough for Ruth to voice her confused rebuttal. "Why? I hear it's a very invigorating experience." "Because you will go in..." The doors began to slowly slide shut. "...and someone who is not you will come out." Ruth began to wonder about this little warning. Rita had already told her about the amazing things they did in this particular salon. That it was practically a fountain of youth for those who were old and past their prime. Rita even revealed that she herself was a frail woman of 60 years before she went into the salon for treatment. As easy as it was for Ruth to discard any and all mentions of the religion they called the 'divine feminine', the Butterfly Salon mentions were a different beast entirely. Was there any truth to Brent's warning, she wondered? She was, after all, an advocate of the old saying. If something is too good to be true, it probably is. Still...she had wasted a lot of her young years playing housewife to the largely arrogant man that was Brock Portnoy. It was a frustration that built up over time, until it was too much for her to bear. Discovering the extramarital affair Brock was attempting to hide from Ruth was pretty much the last straw, and the fact that their two daughters didn't really care much for such indiscretions disgusted her. Brock was gone now, however. Shortly after the divorce, he moved away and got himself in trouble in his first trip abroad. Practically went off the radar, in fact. A single letter asking for help and forgiveness was sent, which Ruth was quick to destroy as if it never existed. She was able to hide her disposal of the note from her children, as well. Although in that quick perusal of the letter, Brock had mentioned of people that were trying to kill him. That he was practically fearing for his life. Ruth figured that it was because of some other manner of adultery, knowing the kind of man Brock was. In the next moment, she was able to literally burn the note completely, hovering it over a flame of the kitchen stove until it caught fire. She then stared down at it as the flames consumed every inch of it. Burn, you two-timing bastard. She remembered thinking. Burn in fucking hell. By the time the elevator doors opened onto the lobby, she found herself a little more curious about Rita's proposal...but if no such offers to go to the salon were made before the day was out, she resolved to do some online research when she got home regarding the Butterfly Salon. At the moment, food was of more importance, and she had an hour to satisfy her hunger somewhere. * * * The lunch break Timmy shared with Larry was pleasant enough, with the attorney sharing certain aspects about himself that he felt comfortable with. That he was single, and a graduate of a prestigious law university, and that he enjoyed the writings of F. Scott Fitzgerald. In fact, he admitted that the reason he liked to use the word 'sport' when he was talking with people he liked was because this was a habit that was shared by the title character of the writer's more popular story, The Great Gatsby. Timmy asked about his association with Rita, hoping for some more elaboration on how well they might know each other. Unfortunately, however, the association was related to one of those cases he preferred to refrain from talking about. Larry was also a sports fan, moreso with Baseball than any other, while Timmy had to admit that he had no real interest in sports of any kind. When Timmy brought up the subject of the 'divine feminine' thing, Larry assured him that he similarly had no interest on account that the whole thing was just too weird for him to have any kind of interest in. Timmy shared a few things about himself when Larry asked. That he was the shy and introverted member of the family, and that his mother divorced his dad, who he didn't like very much anyway over his penchants for prejudice and misogynism. According to Timmy, Brock wasn't the radically abusive sort, but there were occasions where his father found it necessary to administer a touch of corporal punishment unto his son. He also admitted that his father had tried to get him interested in sports, but the efforts never really sold him. As introverted as he was, he never associated with girls, but through his father, he was able to see more lascivious visions of women through a variety of adult magazines featuring such photographs, no doubt in an effort to bond with the boy. Visions of scantily-clad women he never imagined could be interested in him outside of his own dreams had been fed to the boy through his dad. This lasted until his mom caught Brock in the act of 'corrupting her son's mind', as she put it. When Larry asked, Timmy told him that he didn't know what had happened to his father. He only know that Brock had disappeared. Larry noted to himself that Timmy didn't seem very concerned about the issue, and made a mental note not to press it. Once they were finished, Larry drove them both back to the office for the final half of the working day. Going back into the office, Timmy hurried back to the secretary desk to answer the ringing phone in his usual manner. Larry smiled, keeping quiet, and went back into his office. As the call was for Larry, Timmy pressed the red button to transfer the call. Two more hours, Timmy thought to himself. He was feeling good about this job. He liked Larry, and he seemed to be doing just fine by his three parameters. He was obviously hoping that Larry would render his decision by the end of the day. If he had to wait, his mom would nag him about going for the other job offers while he waited, and he really didn't want to do that. The doorbell then rang, and Timmy rose to answer it. He blinked over what he saw, his eyes widening at the sight of not only Rita Noble, but Judith Newlington as well. Both of them flashed sweet smiles upon seeing Timmy. "Ahh, hello, dear." Judith flashed a sweet smile upon seeing the surprised young man, and then walked right past him as she spoke. "I have an appointment with Larry, and I just happened to be with Rita. She insisted that she come along, seeing as how we both know Mr. Hanel." While Judith herself was dressed attractively enough, it was Rita's appearance that held Timmy's gaze. Beneath a black bolero jacket, she wore a tight, bright pink latex one-piece dress, upon which were decorated designs that made it look like a female executive's outfit. White shapes around the neck area emulated a collar, and a series of white pinstripes ran vertically down along its length. Gold straps crisscrossed beneath her knees, leading to a pair of high-heeled shoes. "Like what I'm wearing, dear?" Rita placed her arm around Timmy as she led him back into the reception area. "I know it seems a bit provocative, but I was just showing off new designs for our next line of fashions, and I had no time to change. Not like I'm the one with the appointment, though." "So...should I just go right in, Timmy?" Judith asked. "N-no, I...I need to, uh...to let Larry know you're here, madame. Just a moment," He picked up the phone at the desk, stepping away from Rita to do his job. Pressing the red button, he informed Larry of the arrival of his appointment, and Larry acknowledged this. As Timmy nervously settled back into the seat at the desk after hanging up the phone, Judith sat upon a bare space on the desk, smiling to the young man. "This looks like the kind of job you could earn a lot of money doing, sweetie." "You could buy anything you wanted," Rita added, standing beside her quarry. "Sexy office clothes, luxurious body wash, sweet-smelling perfume..." "You could even make a nice little mass of tight curls with this hair," Judith ran her fingers through Timmy's hair teasingly as she spoke. "Hmmm. Feels a little greasy. You'll wash it tonight, won't you?" "Y-yes, madame." Timmy nodded, still looking jumpy and worried. "Uh...thanks again for this morning, by the way." Judith slipped off the desk, still smiling to Timmy. "We always like to make anyone new to Bullchester feel welcome here. It really is a beautiful place to live. Especially for shy little wallflowers like you." The door to Larry's office finally opened. "Ahh, Miss Newlington. Good t' see you again. Let's get right on inside here an' go over things." He gave a nod and a cordial smile to his other client.. "Hey there, Rita. Fancy seein' you here." Rita offered a wave. "Hi, Larry." "Let's get right to it, Larry," Judith advised. "I'm a busy woman, as I'm sure you know." "You're on phone duty while I'm in here, sport," Larry instructed. "This is my last appointment of th' day. Oth'rwise, I'm sure y'can keep Rita there occupied." "Y-yes, sir." Timmy nodded in emphasis of his words, after which Larry and Judith disappeared behind the door. As the chair at the secretary desk was capable of swiveling around, Rita smiled in a sly manner as she turned the chair away from the door leading into Larry's office, and sat right in Timmy's lap, facing him. As the chair had spaces to fit her legs through, she was able to straddle him. "So how was your day, hmmm?" Rita cooed. "Did you...d-did you arrange this?" Timmy had to ask as Rita moved herself in closer, to the point where she was practically pressing her curvy body against the quaking young man. Rita then smiled, staring right into the young man's eyes. "I'm not surprised at all that you went for a job that women usually apply for. Are you trying to tell us something?" Timmy swallowed hard. He spoke quietly so as not to disturb the meeting in the next room. "Pleeease, Madame Noble...I...I need to listen for th-the ph..." "Do you want to be a girl, sweetie?" Rita whispered these words right into his ear. "You already have the skin for it. I bet you'd love to wear what I have on now." Timmy sighed, his eyes closed, wondering if he was about to be sabotaged out of the only job that interested him. The only job that, according to Rita herself, paid better than the others. "Madame Noble, I..." "Don't feel ashamed, dear," Rita cooed, rubbing at his moistened cheek. "You're not the only one in Bullchester to feel this way, after all. When you start swaying your sexy hips as you walk, or take a moment to re-apply your lipstick, or to fix your bra, no one will ever judge you, or tease you. You're going to feel right at home." "But, Madame Noble, I'm not a..." Rita, however, had pulled out one of the palm-sized aerosol bottles from one of the pockets of her bolero jacket. Timmy did not notice this. "One moment, dear." Three pumps of the bottle scattered a thick cloud's worth of perfume scent by her neck, angling her head back as if she were applying it to herself. As Timmy's face was close enough to the strong, spicy scent, the formula of which was matched to his DNA, the young man began coughing from the intensity of the smell. He then panted, his eyes half-lidded with the onset of dizziness as Rita began whispering a series of instructions unto his ear. Owing to the vengeful plans Rita had for Timmy, she had only sought to implant suggestions to his mind during this visit. Get him started down a more gradual road that would end in the life she wanted to create for him. A life of subservient, wanton lewdness. As she had just come from Timmy and Ruth's house, the suggestions would go perfectly with the material she donated that had replaced what was originally in the drawer containing his underwear. Rita pulled her head back as Timmy just stared blankly at her. "You're gonna be a great secretary, sweetie. I look forward to seeing you in tight skirts." Holding her sweet smile, she rose up from the seat and swiveled Timmy's chair back around so that it faced Larry's door. A couple of minutes later, his office door opened up once again, and Judith stepped out, smiling. Larry also had a cordial smile on his face as Timmy began to shake his head, coming out of an apparent daze. "Well, ladies, it was nice o' you both t' drop by." He led them to the front door. "We'll get those papers drawn up an' faxed out t' you, Judith." "I appreciate it, Larry." Judith then angled her head over to Timmy, speaking in a sweet tone. "Good night, dear! Nice to meet you!" "See you soon, sweetie," Rita added, giving Timmy a sultry wink before following Judith out the door. Once Larry closed it behind them, he turned back to Timmy and walked over to him. "Guess what, sport? It's quittin' time! Great work today, Timmy. Now tomorrow, I'm gonna need you t' fill out a couple o' forms 'fore you get t' work. Don't forget, though...first payday is gon' be next Thursday." "Wait a minute..." Timmy looked confused as he rose up from the seat. "...are you telling me I got the job?" "Sure am!" Larry extended a hand, smiling. "If y' want it, that is!" Timmy couldn't help but giggle with glee as he heard this. His face was aglow with excitement as he grasped the offered hand with both of his, shaking it as his knees bent slightly. "Oh, thank you sooo much, sir! I hope I never let you down!" "If you're gonna do as good a job as y' did today, I don't think you'll ever earn a strike, sport," Larry responded, smiling. "You're free t' go, now. I'll see you tomorrow mornin'. Remember what I said 'bout punctuality now." "I'll be here!" He hurried to the front door, waving to Larry as he went. "Good night, sir!" Timmy felt so happy he wanted to spin in place. He instead ran energetically down a road, and away from what was now his workplace, as he giggled in his triumph. He was able to see a bus pulling into a stop half a block away, and he began racing over in the hopes of catching it. He managed to reach it just as the driver was about to close the doors, and he settled into an empty seat quite happily as the bus pulled away. Getting off at his stop, Timmy raced over to his home, eager to tell his mother the good news... ...but when he got inside, he was alone. Apparently, Ruth was going to be a little late coming home. Sighing, he decided to kill a bit of time by powering up Ruth's computer to watch an online educational video or two. Strangely, these were not the kinds of videos he normally watched, but they interested him all the same. As he watched, he found that the orange scent his body had been giving off was quite weak by now, and he sighed at the thought of possibly washing it all off later in the evening when he took his shower. He clicked off the video when he heard the front door open up. Rising from the seat in front of the computer, he felt the excitement rise inside him again. He could hardly wait to see his mother's reaction to his very good news. Ruth had a few shopping bags with her, but the goods were not of the grocery variety. They were from various clothing shops, or so it appeared. His mom looked thoughtful as she stepped into the living room where her son was waiting. When her eyes caught sight of Timmy, Ruth's mouth flashed a pleasant smile. "Good evening, dear," Ruth began. "How was the job hunt today?" Timmy grinned. "The job hunt is over, mom. I got a job! I'm working as a clerk for an attorney. Larry Hanel. It was the job I really wanted out of all the jobs on that list and I got it!" Ruth's eyes widened in her pleasant surprise. "Really? You got it? Wow! Congratulations, sweetheart!" Giggling, he hurried into his mom's waiting arms for a celebratory hug. "That was the high-paying job, right? That's wonderful news, dear," Ruth remarked, pulling away from the hug. "So you go back tomorrow? I should have that shirt and those pants ironed for you. Leave them with me before you take your shower." Timmy nodded in acknowledgement. "So how was your first day as an executive?" "The day passed smoothly, sure," Ruth replied. "Just a couple of meetings. Things may be a little more hectic over the next couple of days, though, so if I come home late, that's why." He now glanced at the shopping bags. "I see you did a bit of shopping, too." "Yes! Rubie's Mall. You should visit that place, sweetheart. They always have good sale prices. They also have a place that sells suits, so you can shop there for more," Ruth answered. "A couple of people on the board wanted to go there after work, and I decided to tag along. Didn't think I'd buy so much, though." Timmy shrugged, smiling. "Guess they wanted to break you into their habits." Thoughtful as she was on her way home from work, she decided to share her concern with her son. "Timothy...uh, do I look okay? I mean, I don't look like some withered old hag to you, do I?" Timmy frowned. "Not at all! Why do you ask?" "Well, a couple of my friends on the board figured we would go into that beauty salon they have there. I really didn't feel like wasting time on a makeover that's just going to go away after about a month or so, but honestly...do you think I need it?" Timmy shrugged. "I think you look just fine, mom." Ruth kissed her son's forehead. "Thank you, dear. I'll get dinner ready. You go and relax." Timmy was already loosening his tie on his way to his room once he had finished his dinner. He felt fantastic. Finally, he would be earning money of his own. After all the worries he had about the move to Bullchester, this was clearly a harbinger of good tidings. Going into his room, however, he noticed something that was clearly not there when he left the room that morning. Laid out on the bed was a pair of long, feminine nylon stockings. There was clearly a scent coming from the area of the stockings that covered the feet, as well. Ordinarily, the scent was not a pleasant one. It was that which reflected the odor of one's bare foot. Only Timmy wasn't feeling any kind of disgust. Contrarily, the scent was exciting him. He could feel his cock harden as he inhaled the odor. Sitting beside the bed, he brought one of the foot portions of the nylon material up to his nose and sniffed once again. The odor made him more excited. His rigid, erect cock was tenting the groin area of his dress pants now. He laid back on the bed, visions of a bare foot held close to his face playing in his head, and getting very aroused by the thought. An hour passed before he seized upon the notion of getting in the shower. As Timmy was the sort who gave up pajamas as he went into his teen years, he typically slept in his underwear, so he went to get a fresh, clean pair from his dresser... ...and when he opened up the top drawer where his underwear was stored, his eyes widened in his surprise once again. There were six small, but very familiar-looking plastic containers, all of which looked similar to the container where Rita Noble had produced the tablet which was necessary to create that body wash she used on him. All of them had the same Loris International label, and all of them indicated the orange citrus scent. And there were about 12 tablets in each container! Eager to re-apply the body wash, Timmy grabbed a set of underwear, and pulled a single tablet from one of the containers before heading over to the bathroom. Remembering how Rita had created the body wash lather, he was able to repeat the procedure with a larger plastic container which he had also found in his dresser drawer. Add water, place the tablet in, shake it up, step in the shower, get wet, and then lather it all on. After applying the body wash, he lathered up his wet hair with the shampoo/conditioner. As his hair was beginning to get itchy from going unwashed, he felt a lot better once he had rinsed all the lather from the shampoo and the body wash off of his bare, orange- scented body. Timmy felt like he was glowing as he went back to his room, covered in a towel. Once he was back in the room, the foot end of the pantyhose once again went to his nose, and he breathed in the odor once again, resting on his side on the bed in his daydreaming. His reverie of imagining a feminine foot in front of his face was interrupted by a knock on his bedroom door. His mother's voice followed. "Your suit is on a hanger outside your room, dear!" "Thank you, mom!" Timmy called out. Realizing he was still naked, he temporarily abandoned the pantyhose-smelling to begin hooking on his bra, and he then pulled up the pair of panties that went with it. They didn't do a very good job of hiding his hard cock, but he managed to position it in a way that would not be too uncomfortable. Although the young man's chest was not puffy in any way, these were parameters Rita had imparted to him back at the office as she whispered into his ear during his exposure to the hypnotic spray. His new interest in women's feet had also been added in the long moment in which Rita had whispered to him. And as these garments would be safely hidden under his suit, he had no cause to worry about any kind of observations from his new employer. Still...Larry had assured him that even if he did take steps towards a more feminine life, Timmy would not have to worry about sacrificing his job. But a good night's sleep would certainly make him all the more punctual in the morning, so he shut the lights in his room off and settled in for the night. * * * "Do you want this?" Timmy rubbed his head up along the woman's lower thigh like a cat, panting heavily. "Yesss." "Do you need this?" Timmy went low and kissed upon the bare foot of his mistress, yearning for her to lift it off the ground. "Yessss." "Why?" "Because I am worthless, like my dad," Timmy whispered. "I don't wanna be like him." "What do you want to be?" He kissed at the other foot. "Whatever you want me to be." "Worship me, then," the woman, who was sitting down, advised. "Treat me like a goddess. Yearn to be at my feet, for that is where you belong, and I will reward you." One of her hands reached down, and angled Timmy's head up. Her beautiful face, with the prominent cheekbones and the plump lips, framed by a head of soft blond hair, smiled down at him as she spoke. "Do you want to be rewarded?" Timmy nodded. "Yesss." "Do you need to be rewarded?" Timmy gasped out lustfully. "Oh, please, yessss...yesss, Mmm-madame Noble..." Rita rose up, and began walking past her chair within the very upscale surroundings. Like an eager pet, Timmy crawled behind her on his hands and knees. They both confronted another woman Timmy did not recognize, as he could not see her face. It was clearly a woman, however, and apparently one of some importance. Lowering a skirt she wore to expose her panties, the woman revealed a large, erect penis, which stood up between her legs. Rita snapped her fingers sharply, compelling her prize to rise up to his knees. He stared upon the large cock in front of him, looking a little confused. The woman, who had a voice very different from Rita's, made only one request of the very nervous-looking Timmy, as she brought her penis nearer to his mouth. "Suck it, slut." * * * Timmy shot up from his bed with a loud gasp, his eyes wide. Wiping his sweaty forehead, and confirming that he still had a couple of hours before he needed to get back up, he let out a more relaxed sigh and dropped his head back onto his pillow. Two hours later, the buzzing of his alarm clock woke him back up. Rubbing his eyes before slipping out of his bed, he rose to his feet and stepped towards his dresser's mirror. Feeling at his bare body, he confirmed its smooth moistness. He couldn't feel, nor see, a single follicle of hair on his slim and delicate-looking body frame. Which, two days ago, was not as delicate-looking as it was now. He wearily looked upon his own reflection, picking away a dislodged eyelash as he looked upon his face. But then, his eyes went wide. And it wasn't because of his more delicate-looking frame. It was because the hair on his head had visibly grown. His dark brown hair was now slightly past shoulder-length as he ran a hand over its fullness. He was able to form a small ponytail when he groomed his hair during his preparations for the day's work, and while the suit felt just a bit loose on him, he was able to establish a decent appearance for himself. His hair, at least, didn't feel greasy on his head. Finishing up breakfast, he was able to get to Larry's office about fifteen minutes before the time he was to arrive. He was even able to beat Larry himself, who looked pleasantly surprised to see Timmy on the front stoop, waiting for him. And he did it all on his own, too. Larry presented him with a little surprise on this particular workday: he had a nameplate made for his new hire. Upon the smooth black surface was a white engraving... TIMOTHY PORTNOY Secretary Timmy frowned upon seeing his job title. "I thought I was...more like a...a clerk." "Oh, don't you worry, sport. There's plenty o' male secretaries out there! You're not the only one, trust me!" Larry assured, smiling pleasantly as he spoke. "An' if anyone gives you any lip or bully 'bout it, y' can always sue their asses for slander. I'd take that kinda case in a heartbeat, too. Ain't nobody gonna tease my office boy an' get away with it!" He punctuated this last statement with a sly wink. Timmy smiled at the reassurance. "Thank you, sir." Larry then powered up the computer unit Timmy was to use, and he then helped him fill in whatever log-in details were required. Usernames, passwords, he even got an ID of his own for the Speakabout chat widget, which was also installed. For his second day, Larry had him engage the tutorials for the "Proc" productivity suite, which contained a spreadsheet creator("SpreadProc"), a word processor("WordProc"), publishing software("PubProc"), and a database manager("DBProc"). The day otherwise went smoothly, and unlike yesterday, Rita Noble did not visit him. Judith never came by, and the only appointment was a meeting with a potential client. Timmy received a few phone calls, more of them after lunch than before. The doorbell rang, and Timmy rose to answer it. He knew it was Larry's potential client. When he opened the door, a woman with short black hair parted to one side, and a pair of stern-looking eyes surrounded by crimson mascara returned his gaze. Timmy flashed a cordial smile. "Welcome. Please...come on in, madam. Larry is expecting you." The woman snorted in derision. "I should hope so," she huffed as she walked past him, a disdainful look on her face. He gestured to the couch, maintaining his smile. "Please have a seat." The woman silently lowered herself onto the cushions of the couch as Timmy returned to his seat at the desk and sent a message through the Speakabout app that his appointment had arrived. As they waited for Larry to emerge from the office, the unpleasant-faced woman narrowed her eyes as she peered at the nameplate on Timmy's desk. She rose up to get a closer look... ...and then, her eyes widened angrily as she looked up to Timmy. "So now you want our jobs, do you?" she snapped. Timmy frowned in his confusion. "Excuse me?" "You're a secretary," the woman responded, maintaining her glare. "Why would you want to do a job commonly associated with women? Hmm?" Timmy shrugged, smiling. "Because it was the only job I was interested in." "Disgusting," the woman shot back. "And don't take that sarcastic tone with me, slut. You might say I have angels on my shoulders, and they know all too well how to deal with people like you." Timmy sounded surprised at this bit of nastiness from someone he didn't even know. "I wasn't trying to be sarcastic, madame. I was just answering your question." The woman now leaned forward towards Timmy, her mouth curling into a wicked smile. "Let's get one thing straight. I am never to be called a 'madame'. Address me as 'Mistress' from now on. Don't make me have to warn you again." From the look on her face, it was clear to Timmy that it might be a bit of a mistake to make this woman any more irate than she was right now, and he raised a hand in restraint. "Y-yes, Mistress." "Good girl," the woman answered, her face softening, but not by very much. It was then that the office door opened. "Ahh...Celeste, is it? I'm all ready for you now. I see y' met my new hire." Celeste rose up, smiling. "Yes, and I'm sure we'll be seeing more of each other in the future." The woman cast an ominous glance to Timmy as she said this. "Step right on inside, then." Larry gestured for Celeste to step in, making room for her. "Let's have ourselves a chat." Timmy took a deep, relaxing breath once Celeste was inside speaking with Larry. He thought he'd start hearing the voices raise, but it seemed that the voices within the office remained at the conversational level. It was close to quitting time when the door finally re-opened, and Celeste stepped out alone. Closing the door behind her, she then moved right up to Timmy. Leaning on the desk directly in front of the delicate-looking young man, Celeste removed a shoe and brought her foot up, resting its ankle on his shoulder. The scent of her foot quickly aroused him as she spoke in a commanding tone. "A little advice for you, slut. If you're going to have Larry's guests waiting, you should have coffee and tea available in this room. Always have a full pot of coffee ready for your guests, and have plenty of cream and sugar on hand. You're going to buy all these things with your first paycheck. Is that clear, girl?" Timmy had to humor her. "Yes, Mistress." Celeste noticed how aroused he looked, and the quick glances he had made to the woman's foot. With a wry grin, she slowly pulled her foot back, and then hovered its odorous surface in front of Timmy's face. The young man breathed shaky breaths as he inhaled the scent. He didn't dare do anything for fear of being scolded by this very dominant-sounding woman, much as he felt a crazy urge to run his tongue along the surface of Celeste's foot. The woman then brought her foot back down, slipping it back into the shoe below. She then quickly brought her mouth forward to speak into the young man's ear in a low voice... ...but in the same motion, she also placed a hand at the back of Timmy's neck to apply her new prototype means of delivering the DNA- matched hypnotic serums. Celeste called it the Tear Duct, for its large teardrop-like shape. The squeezable plastic body containing the serum...which resembled a small balloon in appearance...was the size of a grown man's fingertip, and its balloon shape narrowed down to the small needle that would break the skin and deliver the serum once the plastic body was squeezed. The Tear Duct, for its small size, was easily hidden, and could be quickly disposed of. Stabbing the back of Timmy's neck with the needle, she was easily able to administer the temporary dose before she spoke. "Do as I ask, and I'll give you all the juicy cock...and all the moist slits...you could ever want, slut, because from now on, you're going to be very hungry for it. Cocks...clits...and all the thick, warm, juicy cum you can possibly suck out of them. You want it. You need it. Because you love being our sexy, dirty little slut." Knowing the dose contained in the Tear Duct was a mild one, and one that lasted long enough for the dominant woman to plant her nefarious suggestion unto Timmy's mind, Celeste pulled herself away and went straight for the door. She kept the spent and empty Tear Duct hidden in her hand as she walked. "Don't bother getting up, dear," Celeste mused as she moved. "I'll see myself out." Shaking his head once the door closed behind the crimson-eyed woman, Timmy began to calm himself, holding a hand to his chest in his disbelief as he panted out. His shirt showed spots where his sweat had stained it. Larry stepped out once again, moving to Timmy's desk. "Real hellcat, that one, ain't she? Yup, she is one calculatin' lil' bitch. Best steer clear o' her if y' can, sport." Timmy nodded, still recovering. "I just...wanna go home now." Larry nodded. "Go on ahead, then. Good work today. I'll see you tomorrow. You'll have a few letters t' type, among other things, when y' come back in in th' mornin'." The young man couldn't help but glance at the crotch area of Larry's pants as he nodded. "I-I'll be here, sir." He rose up and offered a nervous smile as he walked past his employer. "Good night." Quickly stepping outside, Timmy began panting heavily as he walked along the route to the bus stop. He had to distance himself from the source of his sudden curiosity to see that which Larry's pants were hiding that he was so eager to see hanging between his legs. He kept his head lowered to the sidewalk, trying to concentrate on the route to get to the bus, and he waited at the stop. He was able to relax his breathing as he waited, wiping a bit of sweat that had formed on his forehead. The fresh air was doing him considerable good compared to the indoor atmosphere of Larry's office. But when he found a place to sit on the partially full bus, he began to feel nervous again. He closed his eyes in his attempt to relax, knowing that there were people around him. Male commuters with cocks. Female commuters with clits. He also knew that one lingering glance at them would make him begin to feel as he did in front of Larry. He now worried as to whether or not Celeste had somehow sabotaged his chances of actually keeping the job he had won for himself. As he was naturally tired, he felt a little more comfortable with his eyes shut. But he then felt someone rub against him briefly as a passenger settled into the empty seat next to him. He never opened his eyes in response, but a young, feminine voice broke the silence. "Hi." He had to feign his napping. Although he felt bad being essentially rude, he kept his breathing slow. "Taking a little nap?" the girl asked. He maintained his silent, sleepy pose. "Well, I hope you don't mind if I rest myself against you, honey," the girl quietly purred. "I had a long day myself," The girl's next words were whispered gently in Timmy's ear. "My name's Bessie." Timmy then felt the girl's weight settle against him as she let out a long and tired sigh. He gave Bessie a glance, slightly opening his eyes and angling them towards Bessie. She was indeed quite lovely to look at, and she had a large pair of breasts on her chest as well. As she wore a tight, low- cut blouse, he was easily able to get a glimpse of her fetching cleavage. His eyes closed once again, knowing that if his gaze lingered, he'd begin to lose control. Timmy then felt a soft hand grab one of his, and she slowly slid it beneath an elastic strap. The fingertips of his hand then moved past a small mound of hair before being placed against a warm and moist spot. The area felt like a fleshy slit. Bessie moaned softly as Timmy's fingers touched around the area. He had to open his eyes a little and angle his head towards where his hand was and sure enough, he confirmed that Bessie had his hand not just between her legs, but under both her long skirt and her smooth panties, as well. Fortunately, an old man engrossed in a novel was in one of the adjoining seats as the bus continued its progress. Timmy hoped this man would not find his attention diverted by what Bessie was doing. But then Bessie pressed Timmy's palm against the slit and began slowly rubbing the young man's hand against and around it. Timmy blushed as he began hearing Bessie moan a little more. She remained in a nap-like posture against him as she kept the friction between her legs going. Craning her head over until her lips were by his ear, he could now hear her passionate and shaky inhales and exhales of pleasure. "Rub me..." Bessie whispered into his ear. "...please rub me..." His fingers twitched involuntarily, and his tummy began to murmur. He then closed his eyes, trying to fight these wild urges that were manifesting in his mind. Bessie now rubbed the hand against a small, round, fleshy nub, practically impaling the fingers down into a moist, hot space. Her breathing became a bit louder as she writhed pleasurably in her seat. By now, the other passengers on the bus could see what was going on in these seats, but these were Bullchester residents, and many of them knew about the rumors of people disappearing without a trace if certain people were crossed, and as such, they remained quiet, trying to mind their own business while this clearly evident masturbation was being performed. A couple of the passengers rose up, preparing to get off at the next stop in response to this, while others who would not openly admit to being aroused by what was going on gazed in awe at this unexpected display of erotic passion. "...c'mon...c'monnnn..." Bessie quietly pleaded, right in Timmy's ear. "...rub me, ssslut! Rub meeeee...wooh...oo-oooOOOooohhhh...I-I'm cumming..." Timmy now felt a warm, sticky wetness gush against his fingers. Again, Timmy's belly murmured with an unexpected yearning... ...but he noticed that the bus was pulling into his stop! Quickly pulling out his cum-drenched hand, he rose up and rushed out the back door of the bus, ignoring the fact that Bessie had fallen to the floor, the waistline of her skirt a bit uneven. Timmy stood there, panting heavily as the bus quickly pulled away. He then brought up the hand Bessie had used to pleasure herself. His father had discreetly shown him a few pornographic films prior to the indiscretions that led to his mother's declaration of a divorce, so he of course knew what this sticky substance was. But in the next moment, he had these cum-drenched fingers in his mouth, and he began licking the fingers clean. The salty taste was so good. So satisfying. He practically savored its thickness before swallowing it. Calming himself now came easier to him. The murmurs of hunger in his gut stopped. He then walked back towards his house, shaking his head over the particularly wild and arousing conclusion to his second workday. No one was home when he walked in, and the house was quiet. Among the mail deliveries, however, was a large package that was sent in his name. There was no return address. Another letter within the few mail offerings, which also had no return address, had been sent to him as well, and he decided to open this particular letter up first. Folded up within the envelope was an invitation to the Halloween Party at the nightclub Rita Noble had shown him. He remembered seeing a door fee on the poster in front of the club, but this invitation provided free admission. The caveat, however, was that he needed to have a costume. Opening up the larger package, that caveat was immediately addressed. The outfit, folded up and packaged in a transparent plastic bag, looked mostly gray in color. He then turned it around to see the identifying label which would indicate, essentially, what kind of a character the costume was to represent. When he finally saw it, his eyes widened in his surprise. The large white cardboard ID marking read Gray Mouse. He also noticed a folded strip of paper inside. Pulling it out and opening it up, he recognized Rita's style of writing as he read the note to himself... Florian will come to your house at 4 pm Saturday to do your face makeup. I'll have plenty of cheese for you at the party, slut. See you there...my pretty. - Rita Timmy frowned in his confusion when he saw the name of the makeup artist. Florian? Who was he? He couldn't help but wonder how his mother would react to people she had never seen before coming into their home. Still...if this was only a temporary visit, and for the purposes of doing a pre-paid job, that was surely enough for Ruth to understand. And then, Timmy began thinking of what kind of person this Florian might look like. Young, handsome, muscular... ...and how Timmy might show his gratitude for a good job, whether it was truly good or not... ...and he couldn't help but bite his lower lip over the thoughts. He also felt that distinct rush of excitement that made his cock hard. The stiffness began to press against the groin area of his pants once again, creating a bulge. Memories of those adult movies his father had shown him made him wonder if he, too, could rub that cock as those actors in the movies did. Before he could act on this urge, however, he heard the front door to the house open up. Fixing his groin area so that the bulge would not be so obvious, Timmy went out of his bedroom and headed for the living room to see his mother. When he arrived, he saw Ruth resting across the couch. He figured that today might have been a particularly tough day, and that she might want to be left alone to take a nap. He began to turn back around to go into his room, but Ruth's voice interrupted the silence. "Timmy? Is that your footsteps I'm hearing?" The young man nodded. "Yes, mom. I...figured you wanted to take a nap, so..." "Just for a moment, dear," Ruth interjected, her voice sounding like she was in a state of euphoria. "Come on over here. I had the most wonnnn-derful day, and I feel like sharing it with someone." Timmy had a slight smile on his face as he stepped closer to the living room. He was now curious as to what it was that made his mother's work day so incredible. The smile melted, and his eyes widened, when he saw what his mother looked like as she laid on the couch. Normally, Ruth had a pixie- styled head of short hair. Now? It looked a bit longer, and much more fetchingly curly. He was reminded of the way Judith appeared when he first met her as his gaze lingered on Ruth's new hairstyle. The outfit she wore was a bit more leisurely, as well. Bright colors as opposed to the gray and white that usually defined her executive appearance. Her eyes were half-lidded as she turned her smiling face to her son. "Don't mind me. I just feel...really, really good right now." Timmy nodded slowly, still quite curious to the point of serious concern. "Okaaaay...um, can I ask what happened that made this day 'really, really good'?" "Our afternoon meeting came to an end early," Ruth explained. "They had a surprise for me today. They thought I looked a little tired, so they took me to this place in the mall. Just a little beauty treatment, you know? Get my nails done...fix my hair a bit..." Timmy seemed to recall a warning about a certain salon, and a feeling of dread came over him. "Beauty treatment?" "Why that dumb old Brent tried to warn me away from that place, I'll never know. Just another stupid man, I guess," Ruth murmured lazily. "I haven't felt this good in years. Honestly, Timmy...it's like diving into the Fountain of Youth! And those people are sooo nice, too." "And...that's all they did?" Timmy wondered aloud. "Fixed your hair? Got your nails done?" "Heh...that's all I wanted when I went in, but...I got so much more from that one visit alone. And I didn't have to pay a cent! Talk about company perks!" Ruth giggled at the thought. "Oh...and I got you a few suits, too! The place I talked about within the mall? It's in the big brown bag there. You should be good for a full week. Four new suits to go with the one you bought. Rita helped me pick them out! She knows so much about how to look successful." Timmy blinked upon hearing the name. "Rita was with you?" Ruth shrugged. "Well, she did call the meeting, dear. Company forecast. Kind of like a state-of-the-union address," She then brought her upper body up quickly, and maneuvered herself into a sitting position on the couch. She still wore her contented smile on her face. "Right! Nap-time is over. I'll get dinner ready, sweetheart. You look kind of tired yourself. Why don't you go take a little nap? I'll give you a little nudge when dinner's ready." "Mom..." Timmy dropped to a knee in front of Ruth, looking her right in the eyes, and he noted that some of the minor wrinkles in her face were no longer showing. "...this salon they took you to. What was it called?" "The only real salon in all of Bullchester?" Ruth looked to the ceiling in reminiscence of the wonderful time she had. "The Butterfly Salon. Sweetie, if you were a girl, I would have dragged you over there with me." Timmy's head drooped upon hearing his worst fear confirmed. For all the times in which the people of Bullchester were messing with his mind, the warnings Maggie gave him about the Butterfly Salon was something he never put out of his mind. But what was it that Maggie had told him? You go in yourself, and you come out completely different? Your old identity dies? "Are you all right, dear?" Ruth curiously asked, seeing how her son now looked. Timmy raised his head. "Okay...I know this is gonna sound really crazy, but...what's your first, and last name?" Ruth recoiled her head a bit in her surprise, and she frowned in confusion. "I should hope my name is Ruth Portnoy!" she responded, sending a wave of relief through her son. "Why would you ask something like that?" "Oh, just some rumor I heard about that place," Timmy had to defuse the situation. But he also did not want to see his mother going back to that place again for any reason. Ruth nodded, however, in hearing her son's reason. "Yeah, that might have been a rumor that started with Brent, one of the executives at work. He seems to think you go in, but you don't come out as the same person you were going in. Does that sound similar to what you heard?" Timmy nodded. "Yeah, that was pretty much it..." He then took his mother's hands, grasping them tightly as he continued to stare into his mother's eyes with conviction. "...but mom, if there's any truth at all to what he was saying, maybe you shouldn't go back." Ruth sighed irritably. "Now look, Timmy. That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. That place is fine, and if you were a girl going in there, you'd probably feel the same way coming out." "But mom, I already told you. You look fine to me. You always have," Timmy kept his words as honest as they had always been with his mother. "This new look is a nice improvement, but...why don't you just stay this way for a while? Show it off a little." Ruth smirked. "Because I have an appointment tomorrow for a facial, honey." Timmy started to sound desperate now. "Mom...please, I have a really bad feeling about that place. Trust me...you look fine! You don't need to go back!" "Ho, ho, ho! Listen to you! Telling your own mother what to do, and what not to do!" Ruth defensively countered. "I'd color you jealous if you were my daughter!" "Mom, look...I know you had a really good time, but..." "Enough of the 'but's, young man!" Ruth yelled, now frowning in her harsh resoluteness. "If I want to keep going to that place, that is my decision. NOT! YOURS!" She then pointed in the direction of Timmy's bedroom. "Now go to your room! I don't want to hear any more talk about me not going to the salon!" Seeing how hurt Timmy was by her outburst, she took a deep breath and calmed herself. The next words out of her mouth were a little calmer. "I'll let you know when dinner's ready, sweetheart. Just...leave me alone for a while." The scolding still stung, however, and Timmy now feared for his mother's very identity as he retreated back to his bedroom without saying another word, taking the brown bag with him. Timmy was silent when dinner was served. He had been in his room worrying the entire time, trying to think of some way to convince his mother that going to the salon was a mistake. He couldn't think of anything, and it was largely because of his overlapping curiosities about Florian. The young man ultimately decided to break the ice at long last during their meal. "I...got a couple of things in the mail today. Seems someone wants me to go to a Halloween party at a place called Cincher's. Whoever it was even sent me a costume." "Really?" Ruth's eyes lit up with interest. "And the package didn't have a return address?" Timmy shook his head. He didn't want to mention Rita's note, obviously. "Well...maybe it's a gift from your employer," Rita guessed. "What kind of costume is it?" "Some kind of gray mouse," Timmy replied. "A mouse, eh? Sounds cute!" Ruth responded as she filled her mouth with more food. "There was a note in the costume package, too." Timmy had to at least let her know about Florian's impending visit. "Whoever sent me this also wants to put me in makeup as well, so a makeup artist is gonna come by Saturday around 4." Ruth nodded as Timmy spoke, and then swallowed her food. "Wow! Whoever this is is really dressing you to the nines, eh? Well...you know my rules, Timmy. Not a drop of liquor. No wine, no beer, no champagne, no kidding. You're too young for that, and if I find out you came home drunk, you're gonna feel my frustration and believe me, it's gonna hurt." Timmy shrugged, smiling. "I don't wanna start drinking anyway. If I'm gonna have anything there, it's water or sodas." "Good," Ruth nodded as she spoke. "And try not to stay out too late." "I won't, mom," Timmy assured. "I'm probably just gonna stay there until about 1 a.m., and then head back." "And don't eat too much cheese." Ruth punctuated this joking statement with a wink and a little smile. "Squeak, squeak," Timmy countered as he rose back up, having finished his meal. "I think I'll try on your outfits now." "Good, good...and by the way, honey..." Timmy had started to walk away, but stopped and turned his head curiously. "You know...judging by the look of your skin, and how you smell, I wonder if you are actually making visits to that salon that you don't want me to know about." But Timmy shook his head. "I've never been there. And I won't be going there. I'm a man." Ruth grinned. "I still think you're jealous." Timmy didn't respond to this. He just resumed the approach to his room. He just wanted to think about something other than his mother going to that salon. All he could hope for, at the moment, was that she would somehow see the danger they represented, and stop going before it was too late. For the moment, it was time to look in that brown bag to see what suits Ruth had purchased for him. Laying them out on the bed, they looked nice enough. Earth tones in colors, and certainly the kinds of designs that would go well in an office environment. But something seemed odd about them as he looked through their thin plastic wrappings. Uncovering them and laying them out, he looked even more mystified. Three of them had loose pants, but the tops that went with them looked a little more like...blouses. Fortunately, they had jackets to go with them...but the fourth one made him even more mystified. That one, for some reason, had a skirt. Was there some mistake, he thought? Did his mother tell him to get the right bag? He had to ask, and so he headed back over to the dining room, only to see that Ruth was in the kitchen, cleaning the dishes. "Mom..." Timmy began, wanting to speak his words carefully rather than just come out with it. "...is...that the only brown bag you brought in? Is there a bag you left in the car, maybe?" Ruth turned to face his son, but she looked a little puzzled at his inquiry. "I always make sure that I get all shopping bags out of the car, dear. You know that. And there was only one brown bag in the bunch." She then tilted her head to the side. "Is there something wrong?" As much as he had wanted to just come right out with it, he didn't want to stir his mother up again after her outburst from before. He knew she hated repeating things that were obvious. It was clear, after all, that the brown bag was his, and everything inside it was for him. After a long moment, he finally answered, "No." A slight smile was on Ruth's face as she tried guessing at the reason for her son's behavior. "You miss home, don't you? You miss where we used to live?" "No, it's not that," Timmy answered, shaking his head. "Really, I-I'm fine." He then began walking away. "I'll let you get back to your... your dishes..." Going back into his room, he went into the brown bag and pulled out what remained inside. Footwear. Three pairs of slip-on, laceless shoes. These, too, looked a bit feminine to him. Of the four outfits he had, he picked the one that was the least- feminine of them and tried it on. He didn't want to go through all of them at once. He certainly didn't want to start with the suit that had the matching skirt. In fact, he tried to think of a way to steer around using that one. Once the outfit was on, it felt surprisingly comfy against his smooth, moist skin. Looking at himself in the mirror, it didn't look as bad as he thought it would. A slight smile was on his face, as well, as he looked down at himself. Perfect fit, as well. Nothing looked oversized, or weird on him. His troubled mind eased up a bit as he stripped down in preparation for his shower...but once he had pulled down his panties, the sight of his semi-erect cock made him think, once again, about what those actors in the porn films his father showed him usually did with it. And so he wrapped his hand around it and began rubbing it up and down with a steady motion. As his thoughts went to whatever kind of man Florian would turn out to be, in addition to the wild and completely unexpected encounter he had on the bus with Bessie, his cock began to harden as he rubbed. Remembering the taste of her cum, he became even more excited as he continued rubbing. Thoughts of being able to suck it right from the nub made Timmy even more aroused as he continued to rub. He jerked a little faster now. Timmy then felt a bit of wetness on the hand he used to rub with. As he was in his bedroom, he didn't want to have his mother know what he was doing. He knew from the porn videos about what would eventually happen if he kept rubbing. So he moved to the bathroom in the basement, closed the door behind him, and resumed his rubbing in front of an open toilet. As his mother was still in the kitchen cleaning, it was easy for him to get by her. Thoughts of Bessie's cum, thoughts of the wildly shapely and sexy women in those videos, thoughts of what Florian might look like, even thoughts of Rita and Maggie. He was beginning to feel a stirring in his loins as his cock grew very hard from the speed of his rubbing and jerking. Remembering Bessie laying against him, as soft as she was, and as sweet-smelling as she was...and that cleavage she was exposing...and her passionate panting as she had Timmy's hand against her warm, moist slit... ...and the wild dreams about Rita... ...and the smell of a woman's foot... ...and wanting to smell so much more of it... ...and having a sexy, shapely body just like all those hot, voluptuous girls in the porn movies... His eyes shot wide open as he felt his first euphoric climax, a burst of wild pleasure he had never felt before in his entire, sheltered life thus far. All those times his father had suggested he try 'jerking off', he had resisted the urge, as he had been led to believe by his mother that he was a bad influence. The shooting wads of cum, however, went into the toilet as he jerked and rubbed. Some of his cum drenched his fingers, however, and in answer to his now murmuring stomach, he licked and sucked the thick juices from his fingers hungrily. Seeing that a few big drops had stained the toilet cover as well, he lifted it off with a finger, and placed it in his mouth as he pulled tissues to clean off the other drops that didn't make it into the toilet. He didn't want his mother to see any traces, after all. In the afterglow of his climax, however, it seemed as if the arousing memories had faded from importance for the moment, and once he was sure that the area was entirely clean and the toilet was flushed, he pulled a towel, wrapped it over his naked body, and went back upstairs to relocate to the upstairs bathroom. Once again, he was able to evade his mother's notice, as she was watching something on the TV. It wasn't until after Timmy had stepped into the shower that he realized that his mother was not watching her usual courtroom dramas. She was watching an instructional video about yoga. Timmy tried not to think too much about what this might ultimately mean as he began lathering up with the body wash. * * * It was at Maggie's request that she meet with a contact of hers at, of all places, a BDSM-based club very far from the town of Bullchester. So far, she needed to take a cross-country train to get there. Making such inquiries in Bullchester itself was obviously far too risky, considering her sneaky initiatives. Besides...there were elements that her hacker friend had provided for her that required some investigating. She just hoped that by the time she saw Timmy again, that he would not be too far gone. She knew he'd hate her in some way for technically abandoning her, but then, she gave the boy her number. Perhaps the obstacle in him calling was Ruth. Or the job she heard he had gotten. Such was Maggie's way of doing things that she wanted to be absolutely certain of the details regarding this particular mother- son family unit. She wanted to learn a little more, for starters, about the father. That required some digging she herself could not do alone. Fortunately, she had made close friends in the BDSM community who were capable of helping her, given the nature of their day jobs. For this particular job, she had called in the services of Private Investigator Abigail Hagerty. Lil' Abby, as she was called, was a cute and a young-looking woman who openly identified as a submissive. However, everyone knew that she was as tough as they come when it came to her job. Determined, and completely unwilling to let anyone she did not trust dominate her, anyone who tried usually found themselves nursing fractured bones. It was Abby, in fact, who taught Maggie many of the grappling skills the Investigator had learned. And yet, still, she remained a willing submissive to those she chose to allow to dominate her. Maggie learned this first-hand when they first met. She could pleasure a woman in so many ways, and she was very good with her hands when it came to a massage. She could also take a great deal of physical punishment, and still quite literally beg for more. It was astonishing that one who looked so sweet and likable could ever be so tough and feisty, and yet still call herself a submissive. Only a couple of years had passed before Maggie contacted her about the job, and she had asked only for a couple of days to learn things. One day after Maggie had taken Timmy away from Rita, they both set a date and a place where Abby could share her findings. Maggie picked a place where she and Abby went for drinks a few blocks away from the fetish den where they had met. Settling into a table that was part of a row of tables placed outside of the restaurant, she sipped from the complimentary water glass as she waited for Abby to arrive. Ten minutes later, she saw Abby walking towards the table with that lovely smile of hers on her face. Cradled in one arm was what looked to be a thick black file holder around which an attached black elastic cord was wrapped. She then put on a cutely submissive face. "Hello, Miss Maggie. Can this one sit with you today?" Maggie smirked. "You may." They both giggled as Abby settled into her seat. "You got the funds you asked for, right?" Maggie asked. "Yup, you're covered," Abby assured. "You sure sent me on a nice little hunt, though. I actually had to confer with sources abroad for this one." Maggie raised an eyebrow. "Abroad?" "Mm-hmm! If it's Brock Portnoy we're talking about," Abby responded. They had to stop for a moment so that their waitress could take their food orders. Once their server stepped away, Abby resumed. "Real scoundrel, this guy. Seems he's been practicing his philandering ways for some time. He thought his marriage to Ruth would help him out a little. That he could hold himself to his marriage vows." "Heh. No such luck, I guess," Maggie mused. "Nope," Abby replied. "I also looked for a link between him and some of those names you mentioned, and boom. I got one." "Really?" Maggie found this surprising. "Who does he know?" "Well, you'd have to go back to when Brock was much younger to find the link." Abby took a sip of her own complimentary water before continuing. "Seems that when he was younger, Brock and one of the names you gave me...Rita Noble...shared a summer camp experience." Maggie nodded in acknowledgement. "And he was just as much a Casanova-wannabe back then?" "Pretty much," Abby confirmed. "Although I imagine he didn't find Rita very attractive back then, and getting an idea of his habits by way of his records? I'm sure he had no shame in letting Rita publicly know just how uninteresting he thought she was." "Bullied her around, eh?" "That's what it looks like," Abby answered. "But if Rita ever found out what happened to Brock? She'd probably be miiiiighty satisfied." "Lemme guess," Maggie mused. "Butt-fucked in prison by a big, bald guy." "Close!" Abby responded. "He did wind up in prison, but...Brock is dead, Maggs." Maggie slowly tilted her head to the side. "And...where did he get locked up?" "That's where my sources abroad came into play," Abby replied. "He got lured into some mail-order bride thing by russian mobsters. When Brock tried to break it off, they pounced. They made sure he was locked up in a dangerous part of prison, some really big guy picked a fight with him, and Brock had his neck broken. The guy practically twisted it around until his back was beneath his chin." Maggie winced at this. "Ouch." Abby then patted her file holder. "If we weren't in a public place, I'd show you the photos." "Uh...pass on the photos," Maggie noted. "I'll take your word for it." "Which begs the question, if you don't mind me staying in Private Investigator mode, because I've been wanting to ask ever since I found out what happened to him." Abby leaned in close to Maggie. "Why would you ask about a guy like Brock in the first place?" "Where I'm living now? I ran into Brock's son, Timothy," Maggie answered. This visibly interested Abby. "Is he anything like his father?" "Absolutely not," Maggie replied. "Real mama's boy, in fact. I'm guessing Ruth did what she could to try and keep Brock from becoming a bad influence on him. By the way...there was no history of abuse with Brock, was there?" Abby shook her head. "Nope. He has no record of any really violent spats with Ruth, their son, or their two older daughters." Maggie nodded in acknowledgement. "And for his restraint while he was a married man, Ruth still didn't trust him." "And her suspicions were dead on. Three separate cases of infidelity during his marriage, Maggs," Abby noted. "And this was before the mail-order bride thing. That didn't happen until after the divorce. Sneaky bastard was pretty good at hiding those other liaisons, too." "Ruth obviously found out about one of them," Maggie surmised. "In any case, the divorce was recent," Abby explained. "And then, the fucker just vanished. Off the radar." "Only to wind up a corpse in the long run." Abby nodded. "Poor bastard." "Pfft. Someone should have given Brock's killer a reduced sentence or something," Maggie mused. "He's better off dead." "Do you think Timmy was affected by his dad's death?" Abby asked. "He may not even know about it," Maggie replied. "Probably because Ruth kept it from him. Assuming she knows what happened to Brock." "So if Timmy is the opposite of Brock..." Abby surmised, a slight smile on her face. "...I might understand why you've taken an interest in him. Especially if he's a mama's boy, like you say." "Oh, don't get me wrong. I don't hate Timmy at all. In fact, I like him," Maggie remarked. "Maybe a little too much." "That's what I mean, Maggs," Abby noted. "You say you like him a little too much, and the next thing you know, you've got a collar around his neck, so to speak." "Heh...naughty girl," Maggie wagged a finger to her amusedly as she spoke. She then spoke thoughtfully. "I won't deny that the guy struck a nerve, so to speak, but I'll be honest. I've been curious about having a lifestyle subbie with me, and he's got a lot of potential to be a good submissive. He certainly has eyes for me, that's for sure." Abby grinned. "He's got good taste." "Tut, tut, slave," Maggie's eyes narrowed as she grinned. "Flattery will get you back on the rack." Abby displayed a timid-looking expression. "You do know how much this one loves what you do to this one on the rack, Miss Maggie." They both shared another giggle as their server returned with their food, placing each plate in front of them. The rest of their conversation was small talk. Although Abby attempted to convince Maggie to play with her at a BDSM club, the raven-haired woman, while intrigued and flattered at the thought, had to turn the Private Investigator down. She was eager to return to Bullchester, after all, armed with this new information. * * * A troubled-looking Jemima poked her head in the door to the office of the Mayoress. "Miss Celeste is here." Julia nodded, a distinct frown on her face. "Let her in." Celeste couldn't help but look curious as she stepped in. "Was there some kind of a catastrophe around here?" Julia sighed in frustration. "You could say that." She then swiveled her computer monitor around so Celeste could see... * * A T T E N T E O N * * My name is InSEKt B*Y*T*E! You pay me $5,000.000.000 I give you CODE to give you your COMPUTER back! CALL: 1(XXX) XXX-XXXX ENTER CODE>>>:_____________________ * * A T T E N T E O N * * "This was what I got when I tried digging for Maggie's files," Julia griped. "And since our computers are in a network? We've all got this! Every computer in the damn office!" Celeste raised an eyebrow. "Ouch. Soooooo...what do you want me to do, hmm? You don't seriously expect me to cough up 5 million to heal your database boo-boos?" "No. I'm calling in a few favors from among the computer pros in the city, but today? We're all down," Julia replied. "Just because you wanted me to dig for shit on this bitch." "She's obviously a bit more crafty than any of us imagined," Celeste mused. "And just plain tough," Julia added. "Rita and I both found that out firsthand. I even tried my seed on her when we had our little meeting. It didn't fucking work." This visibly shocked Celeste, and her eyes flew wide open. She broke the tense silence a moment later. "Maggie is...immune??" Julia slammed her hand on the table hard as she craned her head forward. "How can that be?? That is why I called you here, Celeste. I remember you telling me that no one...no one...could resist my seed!" Celeste put a hand to her head, rubbing it as she began to consider the possibilities. She practically muttered as she tried working it out in her head. "Second circle bloodline, perhaps...or a by-product of one of the fertility programs...a weapon? Someone Agatha called down? Damn it, damn it, daaaamn iiiiit..." Celeste glanced at Julia, whose angry eyes were still glowering at her, apparently waiting for an answer. Closing her eyes, Celeste let out a long, frustrated sigh. "All right, all right. Lay off of Maggie for now. Besides...I've got a handover to think about." "Sorry?" Julia looked confused. "Handover?" "I need to get someone to take over the running of the Butterfly Salon in my place. I've got to free myself up a little more," Celeste explained. "That someone arrived last weekend." Julia frowned, still confused. "Timmy Portnoy?" Celeste shook her head. "His mom. I want her to transition from her executive interests to inheriting my job at the salon. She's going to be my little puppet ruler, so to speak." Julia settled back in her chair, thinking for a moment before speaking. "Why her, specifically? Bully from your childhood?" Celeste shook her head before dropping the bombshell. "Ruth is my cousin." * * * Timmy caught himself writhing and moaning in bed as the time drew nearer to his usual wake-up hour...but he also noticed something else about his sleeping posture. His hand was at his chin. And the middle finger of that hand was in his mouth. Sitting up in his bed as he pulled out his finger, he rubbed at his head, considering the thoughts that were running through his head as he drifted off to sleep. The thoughts that made him aroused enough to masturbate. He then ran his hand back over his head, and over his hair, a little more. A tickling at his back followed, and Timmy frowned in confusion. Examining his hair again, he found himself able to pull a handful of it over his shoulder. Apparently, his hair had grown longer. His hair had grown to about mid-back. He thought on this for a long moment... ...and then his clock's alarm sounded its tones, which were loud enough to stir him into action. On went the least-feminine suit of those his mother had gotten for him. The long hair was tied into a ponytail, and he slipped his new loafers on over the smooth nylon of the stockings hidden underneath his effeminate slacks. As much as he had feared being noticed and perhaps ridiculed, he just kept to himself while he was on the bus. The ride, however, was uneventful, even though it was a crowded bus that morning. He breathed very slowly, and looked at no one. He had used the same tactic on the walk to the attorney's office home. Timmy paid no attention to anyone, and ignored any who he figured would give him a doubletake. He heaved a sigh of relief over the success of his tactic when he arrived, stepping in when Larry opened the door. "G'mornin', sport! Got ya a warm bagel. It's over there on y' desk if y' want it." Timmy smiled as he stepped to his desk. "Thank you, sir." Larry got a good look at him as he walked in. "Hmm, nice look there! Real snappy! New suit?" Timmy couldn't help but blush over the question. "Yes, sir." Larry nodded in his approval. "Niiice, very nice. Earth tones suit ya, sport!" He then stepped up to the desk. "Okay, now t'day, I've got no appointments scheduled, but I do have a meetin' this mornin' outside o' the office. You get t' watch ov'r this place t'day while I'm gone, but that don't mean that y' won't have plenty t' do. I got a bunch o' lett'rs that need typin', an' a couple of 'em are a few pages long. They're real importn't, so don't mess 'em up. I'll give ya until t'morrow t' finish 'em all, but I hope y' can at least finish th' long ones first. Those are th' more importn't ones." "How long will you be gone, sir?" Timmy curiously asked. "Should be back before lunch," Larry replied. "We'll head out for a bite t' eat, but once you're back? Get back t' work on those lett'rs. I get any calls? Take a message, as always." "Yes, sir. I'll get right to work on one," Timmy was already powering up the computer system and going over the write-ups Larry provided for him. There were fifteen letters in all. A couple of them were six pages in length, and one was eight. Some of them were two pages long, and the rest were single-page write-ups. He was able to quickly absorb himself in the work by the time Larry made his way out the door. When he was alone, he felt quite content as he continued tapping away at the keyboard of his computer. An hour into his first eight-page typing job, a small window suddenly popped up. Timmy recognized it to be a Speakabout chat window. - LovlyRita '< : Hello dear It occurred to him that the Speakabout chat widget was part of the computer system's startup apps. He had forgotten to disengage it. But at the same time, he couldn't be rude and just close it, especially since he knew exactly who this was. - LovlyRita '< : How is work going? He continued typing. He figured that she might get the hint about his being busy, and disconnect. Timmy had finished the first page, and began typing the second. - LovlyRita '< : You must be really busy. That's OK...we'll have plenty of time to talk this weekend, my pretty. Timmy was halfway through the page when Rita's next message came through. - LovlyRita '< : Can you guess who I am dressing as, my little mouse? Page two was done when Rita's next message popped up. - LovlyRita '< : You're gonna LOOOVE Florian, dear. He's got a platinum blond mullet, and I'm sure he'll have a really hard dick. You'll just want to rip his pants right off and suck him dry. He managed to get through page three despite his own hardening cock. He could feel it begin to tent his slacks. - LovlyRita '< : I bet you're thinking about taking his cock into your mouth now. Licking slllooooowly around the crown...guys loooove when you do that... Timmy couldn't help but bite his lower lip, trying so desperately to concentrate. He realized that upon reading it over, page four had a couple of typos, which he was able to correct as they were still data. - LovlyRita '< : You're going to be a very hot, and a very sexy little slut, dear. It's already happening to you. You're still using my body wash, aren't you? And the shampoo I put in your shower stall? I bet your hair is really long by now. Timmy was able to get through two pages this time. His hard-on was beginning to settle. But then, as he began page six, up came the chat window again. - LovlyRita '< : I'll give your hair a new color. Make you a beautiful blonde. It will go great with all your tight, sexy dresses. More errors on the page. He had to go back and correct them before proceeding to page seven. - LovlyRita '< : You're going to see...and feel...those big breasts of yours jiggling oh so much on your chest. Men will want to fuck you silly, slut. Timmy had such an urge to go into the bathroom and jerk off by now, but he had to keep concentrating on his work! He managed to finish page eight without any errors, and he felt relieved to see that one of the tougher letters was completed as he saved the WordProc file. - LovlyRita '< : I'll make you my secretary when I'm done with you, slut. You'll be the hottest secretary in Bullchester. A pair of really sexy tits, a jiggly bubble butt...I'm going to give you all of that, and I know you're going to love it, because I know you want it. You want it really bad, or you wouldn't have started using that body wash, my ripe, juicy little orange. Timmy started work on one of the six-page letters. He kept an eye on the time. It was still not close to lunchtime just yet. Just a couple more hours. - LovlyRita '< : You know you want it, don't you? You want to be a girl. You need to be a girl. You're already dressing like one. How does your pantyhose feel against your smooth, moist skin? Timmy was able to get through the first six-page letter without any incoming messages from Rita. Perhaps now, at long last, she had gotten the hint. He was well into the second six-page letter when Rita put one last chat note in hours later, just as he heard Larry's car pull into the driveway... - LovlyRita '< : Lunchtime. Gotta go. Meet me at Cincher's tonight after work if you need someone's foot near your nose. I know you want that, too. See you soon, slut. Don't keep me waiting. Finally, the disconnection notice came up, and Timmy was able to quickly log out of the Speakabout widget and close the program by the time Larry entered. "Hey there, Timmy-boy!" Larry began, wearing his cordial smile. "Ev'rythin' OK? How ya doin' there with those lett'rs?" Explaining how far he had gotten kept the smile on Larry's face, particularly with the mention of his completion of the eight-page document. "Aahhhh, good, good! That was a real import'nt one! I'll get that one printed out right aft'r lunch. Good job! Thought you'd save that one for last! You're becomin' a real workaholic, sport! Now get on outta that chair there an' let's go have us a meal." It was during their lunch that Larry looked around to make sure no one was paying too much attention to them that he angled his head a little closer to Timmy as they both ate to share an observation in a more confidential tone. "Jus' wanted t' let y' know that I'm no dummy, sport," Larry cautiously began, his expression very serious. "I know what kind o' hornet's nest we're both in, so I'd like t' think that your choice o' women's office wear is a smart one. Kinda keeps th' vultures from circlin' ov'rhead, if y' know what I mean. Aft'r all...like I said, y' can still type out a document or take dictation ev'n if y' came t' work in a tutu, not that I'd want you t' go that far. Jus' keep your wits about ya, an' don't you worry 'bout no strikes jus' 'cause o' what y' have t' do these days t 'get around safely in a place like Bullchest'r." As much as Timmy really didn't want to talk about it, he was still grateful for the reassurance from his boss. He still didn't feel comfortable at all coming into work wearing that skirt, but he nevertheless felt a little more at ease on the strength of what Larry had told him. The young man nodded, smiling. "Thank you, sir. I...I appreciate it." The rest of the lunch break, and then the rest of the workday, remained quiet and uneventful. Timmy had taken a couple of phone messages as he resumed work on the letter bundle, transposing what he had been given to become data files. He managed to finish off three more letters before it was quitting time. The real challenge was the bus ride back home. Timmy had the luxury of quite a few hours time before he needed to turn in for the night, but that routine was always as simple as to get home, wait for his mother to get home, have dinner with her, take a shower, and then turn in for the night. It did not help things at all that there was a bus stop near Cincher's, which was where he knew Rita would be waiting for him. As he waited at the bus stop, his inner voice made it clear to his conscience. You're not going. Settling into a seat, he sighed out relaxedly. You're gonna go straight home. Don't worry your mother. Three stops from Cincher's. Don't you dare consider it. You've gotta find out if your mom went back to the salon anyway. Two stops from Cincher's. You blew it last time. Don't repeat the same mistake. His conscience seemed to remind him. One stop away. Moment of truth. Man or mouse! You are NOT GOING! MAN UP!! The bus settled into the stop near Cincher's, letting out those who chose the stop by pushing the button on the bus. And then, the bus roared away, continuing its route. * * * Timmy stepped into the front door, taking a deep breath. He felt strangely satisfied as he moved further inside. Going into the bathroom, he stepped in front of the mirror and looked at himself, sighing once again as he fixed his hair up a little. He then slipped off the jacket that was concealing some of his blouse. Stepping back out, he just sat quietly, idly tapping out a beat on the hard wooden surface of the table near him. Getting back up, he got himself a drink, and then sat back down, continuing to idle until he saw her come through the front door. All Timmy did was stare forward, reflective on the choice he had made. He remained strangely content with it, even though a part of him still argued about making the other choice. She kissed Timmy on the lips, rubbing gently at his head as she did, before settling next to him. "Long day at work?" She asked softly. "You look tired." Timmy nodded slowly. He now began to think about making the alternate decision. A sense of regret set in as he leaned into her, sighing out. "Awww, poor dear." She kept rubbing at his head softly. "Don't you worry about a thing now." "How was your day?" Timmy then softly asked. "Active," she replied. "I did a lot of walking. My feet feel so worn out tonight." Maneuvering herself until she sat across the booth seat, the woman brought her bare feet up and placed them on Timmy's lap, crossing the ankles as she wiggled them fetchingly beneath his gaze. "Rub them, slut," she softly commanded. "Make them feel better." The odor of her sweaty feet was strong, and he once again felt the excitement stirring between his legs as he began to massage Rita Noble's feet with his hands, working on each foot one at a time. He had no experience whatsoever in rubbing feet, but Rita seemed to approve of this first foot massage, so he maintained his rubbing rhythm as the beat of the music being played by the resident DJ at Cincher's continued to resonate through the club. I don't care. He seemed to be telling himself as he rubbed, breathing in Rita's stimulating foot odor as if he were hungry for it. I made the right choice. IV: Porntoys After the kind of day she had, Jemima Poulson...the red-haired secretary to Mayoress Julia Stroud...was looking forward to getting back into the hunky, muscular arms of her beloved Xavier. Julia had Jemima contact Neale Cozens...something she was loath to do, knowing how she felt about him...for the sake of having the computer systems restored. Neale himself had little knowledge of how to deal with ransomware afflictions, but he assured Jemima that he would ask around and see if anyone in his gaming circle could help. Miserable as it was for the notion of having to hear his voice again, Neale promised to call the former teaboy if he found anyone. But this was definitely a day she wanted not only to put behind her, but to bury altogether. All she needed to do was unlock... The door was open. Jemima frowned. Ohhh, Goddess. She thought to herself, in her complete frustration. NOW what?? The room within was dark. All lights were out. And the remnants of one of those lights was on the floor as well, along with a piece of broken wood. As she knew the light switches were near the door, she nervously felt for them, and then switched one on. When the lights came up, she saw that the room was a complete mess. The furniture was standing on one side, one of the lamps was indeed broken, and the wood might have come from a room extension Xavier had been working on. Looking to one of the other doors, she saw that one of them was open a crack. She slowly approached this particular door. "Xavier?" the secretary nervously remarked. No response. Her eyes lowered to the carpet again. "Xav..." Jemima's eyes widened upon seeing what was poking through the door crack. It was a male right hand. Not a severed one, thankfully, but it was on the carpet, and it was not moving at all. Opening the door slowly, he confirmed that the hand belonged to Xavier, who was now lying on the ground, unconscious. Jemima's hand went to her mouth in her shock as she gasped. And then, a voice, from within the darkened room beyond the door. "I'll give him credit. He put up a real good fight." Jemima immediately recognized the voice, and when she looked up, she saw a similarly familiar-looking silhouette sitting on a bench within the room. Her arms moved to place a thin white object in her mouth, and the feminized secretary heard a zippo lighter click open, followed by the flaring of a large flame, which went to the end of the cigarette. Applying the flame to it, Maggie puffed on the cig a couple of times before loudly snapping the metallic zippo shut with the flick of her wrist. Jemima frowned. "At least I know you'll eventually die of cancer." "Not a smoker, eh?" The tip glowed as Maggie inhaled. Pulling the cigarette out of her mouth with two slender fingers, she exhaled its vapors out in a long, thick drag. "Wimp." Jemima didn't dare try to get rough with her. Especially if she could take out someone as well-trained in hand-to-hand combat as Xavier. "Soooo...who the fuck do you think you are, sneaking into my apartment and messing with my man?" "Julia never told you? She should have," Maggie mused. "Not like it's any big secret," The hand holding the zippo lighter came up again, and the seated intruder once again flicked on the lighter's large flame, bringing the light near her face as she grinned to Jemima. "I'm the devil," Maggie then remarked. "And if that doesn't work for you, then you can think of me as the newest She-Bitch of Bullchester, seeing as how, unlike you, I'm all babe." "What the hell do you want with the Mayoress?" Jemima demanded. "Tut, tut, mini-titties," Maggie calmly replied. "I didn't come here to talk about Mayoress Trannie-maker. I came here to talk with you, Mister Personnel Assistant." Jemima sighed out irritably. "Look, bitch...I'm a girl, okay? So drop all that goddamn innuendo!" "Oh, so...you finally had that useless little willy snipped off?" Maggie curiously asked. Jemima went silent for a long moment. The answer was obvious as she looked at the feminized boy's expression. "Still there, right? Not surprised." The woman exhaled another long, carcinogenic drag before continuing. "Don't you want to be all girl, Jeremima?" The feminized boy did not want to go into this. She sighed out irritably. "Look...just get the fuck out, will you? I've had a long day, and I don't wanna talk about nothing!" "I could lay you out on the floor next to this ape on the ground here," Maggie firmly remarked. Her tone then went soft. "Or you can answer my question." "I am tired." Jemima was beginning to lose her patience. "Please, just..." She then saw Maggie begin to rise to her feet. "...OKAY, okay! YES! Yes! I wanna be a girl! I wanna be all girl for my man! Now will you..." "That's right." Maggie kept moving towards Jemima as she interjected, the feminized boy taking a step backward. "That's right," She repeated, keeping her voice alluringly gentle. "You want that ridiculous little pecker gone for good. Put a warm, moist, feminine slit in its place, so you can have your pet ape there lick at your clit slooooowly." Jemima already felt very intimidated as Maggie closed in on her. "Don't...don't hurt me. Please, I...I'm just a damn secretary..." "No you're not." Maggie stepped behind the visibly nervous young gurl, wrapping her strong arms around her waist from behind, holding Jemima with a firm, but painless grip. The woman had Jemima's arms pinned to the sides of her slim body as she held her. "You're in denial." The feminized boy closed her eyes in irritation, sighing out loudly. "What are you talking about??" she hissed. "Aren't you Julie-Boolie's Personnel Assistant, femmy-boi?" Maggie asked, hissing right in Jemima's ear. "That puts you in a position to take charge. That's right. You have power over people beneath you. Under you. You could squash them like bugs if you wanted to. Especially men. That's right! Even your big, bad soldier boy down there." "You're fucking nuts," Jemima shot back. "I don't wanna squash Xavier. As if!" "And you're fine with him taking charge of your life?" Maggie challenged, still speaking into the gurl's ear. "Cook for him? Clean for him? Isn't that how things were between you and Paula? Do you always want someone bossing you around, kid? How can you be a Personnel Assistant without being...assertive?" Jemima became a little less tense, hearing Maggie's relentless offerings of what were beginning to sound like logic to her. "I-I can be assertive...I have to be. I work for...for the Mayoress." "That's right! And you don't want to be perceived as weak, do you? Think of how embarrassing that would be," Maggie's hands slid over to rub at the former boy's small breasts as she continued to hiss sensually into Jemima's ear. "Take chaaaarge...that's right...take chaaaarge...you got that job on your own, and you got it for a reason, so show EVERYONE why. Show them who's boss. Show Xavier. Show that bitch Paula. Flex some muscle. Break some bones if you have to." Jemima easily responded to Maggie's rubbing as she began panting heavily, beginning to feel like putty in her hands as her head arched back slightly, the stronger woman's words sounding more logical now. She's right. She's RIGHT. Jemima thought. He's SHIT for making me think he'd fuck Paula over me. I'll put my foot down on BOTH of them. I'm the Personnel Assistant for the fucking Mayoress of Bullchester. I got that job! ME! "Yeah..." Jemima quietly noted as Maggie continued to rub at her nipples. "...yeah..." "Yesss...that's right..." Maggie repeated into the feminized boy's ear. "...very good. Very good. Nobody fucks with Jemima anymore...and every time you assert yourself, you begin to feel plllleasurrrre... you feel soooo good about yourself...that's right..." The rubbing at Jemima's small breasts made her shudder with the incredible sensations she was feeling. "Guuuuuhhhh...mmmmmh..." Maggie slowly turned Jemima around, and she slowly slid against the taller woman as she did. The raven-haired woman's hands now rubbed at her hair, tilting her head up to look into her eyes. "Who's the boss?" Maggie then asked. "I am," Jemima quietly replied. "I don't believe you," Maggie responded. "Who's the boss?" "I am," Jemima's words were more firm now as she spoke through gritted teeth. "That's right." Maggie then kissed Jemima on her forehead. "That's right." A kiss on her right cheek now. "Very good," A kiss on the left. "Very good." Maggie then pressed her lips against the feminized boy's own lips, kissing her quite passionately. Jemima's eyes widened at this in her surprise, but they then went half-lidded as the kiss lingered. Ohhh, Goddess... Jemima thought to herself as they kissed. ...I never DREAMED... Maggie slowly pulled her head back to linger her gaze upon the feminized boy. "Now don't go too far, dear," she warned, tapping the tip of Jemima's nose lightly as she spoke. "Remember...Julie-boolie is still your boss. But that doesn't apply to Xavier now, does it?" Jemima's eyes narrowed as she shook her head. "No." "That's right," Maggie softly replied. She then moved her head very close to Jemima's ear now, licking slowly along the edge sensually before whispering into it. "And I've even given you leverage. It's hidden in a plushie I bought for you. Hidden under the covers of your bed. Flash drive. Hidden in the bunny's back. Find it. Hide it. And if Xavier gets bossy with you? Use it. Those files will show you just how much of a bad boy he's been." Maggie rubbed more at Jemima's chest with her hands, and then nibbled lightly at her earlobe. The feminized boy's eyes closed as she panted with light, shaky breaths. Maggie whispered again. "The password is..." She squeezed and rubbed at Jemima's nipples as she spoke the word. "...tweak." She heard Jemima moan softly. "Tweak," Maggie rubbed at them once again. "Tweak." With Jemima lost deep enough in the throes of passion, Maggie was able to pull out the second of the two small syringes she had on a plastic syringe holder attached to her belt behind her, and the feminized boy felt a pinch at her neck as the sedative was slowly pumped in. She felt Jemima's muscles tense for a moment. "Shhhh...you're just going to take a little nap. When you wake up, you're going to remember everything about our little chat, and you're going to start a brand new chapter of your life. One in which you take charge. Take charge of your subordinates. Take charge of Paula. Of Xavier. Anyone you don't have to answer to to keep your job." Maggie picked Jemima up quite easily, and placed her on the nearby bed as the feminized boy began to lose consciousness. Maggie brought her lips to the gurl's ear to give one final message. "One last thing, Jemima," Maggie whispered. "Lose that useless little pecker." "I...w-will..." were Jemima's last words, spoken very softly, before she drifted off into unconsciousness. Maggie smiled in her satisfaction as she lingered her gaze upon Jemima, knowing her dose of the sedative she had brought with her was not as strong as the one she managed to give Xavier following their battle, a wild struggle which had ended about thirty minutes before Jemima got back home. Her head then turned to the still-unconscious Xavier as she moved to leave the apartment, and she then brought up a hand to mime a gunshot, pointing it down at the ex-soldier...a former member of the elite military unit known as the Nightshifters...as she stepped over his body. "Bang," she quietly remarked as she 'fired' the gun. * * * Although Rita Noble found Timmy to be an endearing find, she always had to remind herself that this was the son of a man she had always hated for being so cruel and so merciless to her during her stay at Camp Awohali one summer when she was much younger. Even after all that had happened to her and her ex-husband, that aspect of her life was one she would always remember as being one of the worst experiences of her life. Her experiences around Brock Portnoy pretty much ruined what she thought would be an active and fun summer. And here, sniffing and rubbing eagerly at Rita's feet, was Brock's only son. She knew Brock had died, though. It was through her contacts with Loris International. Data checks through their overseas connections. Rita particularly hated that she never got a shot at revenge for all that torment, although she was at least satisfied that it was over something as pathetic as a Russian mail-order bride. Rita wanted this transition to be as slow as possible, although not too slow. Beyond what she had in store for him this evening, further body modifications would not begin until after she took him in following the Halloween party. By then, his mother Ruth would become so enamored of the Butterfly Salon business that she would make the transition from being a Loris International executive to become an important part of the salon's staff. Through Ruth, others would be brought unto Cresswell's influence from her part of the suburbs that surrounded Bullchester. She had already arranged for the staff to try and disassociate Ruth from her own son, or at the very least make him less important to her. She would perhaps make use of Nell Sharpe if necessary, seeing as how she loved influencing women. While Rita took Timmy...who was already responding fairly well to his slow feminization...as her personal, and amusingly oversexed, courtesan. The hypnotic messages that spoke so soothingly and so enticingly to the young man through the solid gold locket attached to the choker Rita had slipped under his pillow during her first visit to the Portnoy house had to have affected his dreams, and gave him a pretty good idea as to what kind of ultra-feminine appearance was in store for him. She would, however, always keep Timmy's cock between his legs rather than have it removed, no matter how small or insignificant it would become. This would always be a lasting reminder that Rita had finally gotten her revenge, even if she was unable to directly inflict it upon Timmy's father. The nightclub's owner, Maggie...a different Maggie, and not at all the one Mary Margaret Katzhoff, who was slowly becoming a very notorious figure in Bullchester...relocated them to a new area of the nightclub's upper level, an extension which, in addition to another array of tables and chairs, also had private booths that were restricted to VIPs like Rita. She figured the curvy debutante wanted more private surroundings in the time she spent with Timmy, and so Maggie allowed them both to go up while everyone else was kept out. Before they went up, Rita made a brief phone call. As the music was particularly loud by now, Timmy couldn't hear what she was saying, and he was too fixated on Rita's feet to care anyway. Timmy was panting lightly as Rita led her somewhat giddy-faced young quarry up the stairs. He had the scent of feet on his mind, and Rita had given him plenty of hers. As per the debutante's mental conditioning, he continued to find satisfaction, and even addiction, in the odor of feet, and he was eager for so much more of it. The curvy woman had been complimenting Timmy the entire time since his arrival, telling him what a good job he was doing in massaging Rita's feet. But she wanted the next phase of the young man's feminization to begin. Once they were on the VIP level, Rita stood directly in front of Timmy, smiling down at him as she caressed a hand at his cheek. "You need to dress yourself down now, my little whore. Don't worry, though. It's just the two of us." Rita began to pull off Timmy's dress jacket. "Not that you'll care much in the future, whether we're alone or not." Timmy did the rest. Off came the blouse, and he took off his slacks as well, leaving him in his pantyhose, and his pink bra and panties. Rita moved to him and pulled off the black elastic band he had used to put his long hair in a ponytail, and gave him a black hairband instead after combing his hair straight back. She then slipped it over the hairline on his forehead. "There." Rita stepped back to view her handiwork. The young man looked a little more feminine now. "That's much better. Now take your underwear, and then your pantyhose off. Do it properly. I want to see you completely naked, slut." Just as he had been subliminally trained by the locket, Timmy unhooked the latch of his bra and slipped the empty pink cups off of him. He then carefully pulled off the matching pink panties, and then rolled down each side of the sheer pantyhose he was wearing as carefully as he could. Rita smiled again in her satisfaction upon seeing that his cock was erect. Clearly, this was exciting him. "Very good. Now whenever I point to the ground, you are going to kneel, and remain on the ground until I gesture for you to stand. If I have you kneeling, and I wish for you to follow me, you are going to crawl along beside me. Understood, slut?" Although he was blushing deeply, the smooth-skinned, effeminate- looking boy nodded. "Yes, Madame Noble." Rita nodded, still smiling. "Being beneath me excites you, doesn't it? It brings you so much closer to my feet. You want to be near my feet, don't you?" Timmy nodded in his yearning. "Y-yes, Madame Noble. I...I do." "I will always be superior to you. You want me to be superior to you. I should be worshipped. Like a Goddess. Wouldn't that excite you so much more, sweetie?" The thought did indeed excite him. "Yes, Madame Noble." "Good girl," Rita replied as she stood over the naked, kneeling young man. "And if you stay with me, you will begin to change. That will be your reward for being so blissfully obedient to me, slut." The voluptuous woman's attention was diverted to the sound of footsteps at the stairs. Glancing over, Rita saw a young and attractive-looking woman heading towards her. She held a plastic- covered package beneath her right arm. Rita gave the delivery girl a pleasant nod of acknowledgement, after which she turned and left as the blond debutante opened the package and pulled out what appeared to be a small, stretchy piece of white clothing. Rita then gestured for Timmy to rise. She then had the nervous- looking young man step into the skin-tight, one-piece dress the clothing turned out to be. Once the sexy debutante pulled it up until the upper rib covered his nipples and his areolae, Timmy saw that the lower part of the dress ended midway up his smooth, hairless upper thighs in the manner of a short, tight skirt. She then pointed back to the ground without saying a word...her self- satisfied smile still on her plump lips...and Timmy lowered to his knees before her, his eyes going back to her feet as per his mental conditioning. And when she stepped over to a side booth, Timmy crawled along behind her. Settling into a seat at the booth, she pulled a foot out of one of her shoes and hovered it in front of Timmy's face. "Suck on my big toe as slowly as you can, slut," Rita wiggled it in front of the young man's face in emphasis of her words. "Savor it, as if it were a man's cock." But when Timmy hesitantly opened his mouth and moved to close his lips around the toe, Rita pushed lightly at his forehead with the upper portion of her foot. "I said savor it, you silly bimbo," Rita gently chided. "Lick around it slooowly. Make it nice and moist. Then gradually slip it into your mouth. Do it passionately, as if you're soooo hungry for it." Although he was initially hesitant as Rita once again hovered her big toe in front of him, the scent of her foot made it easier for him to look upon the toe hungrily, and he extended his tongue towards the toe until he was able to lick around it. His tongue moved slowly around the toe, and he tilted his head to the sides as he licked around the large, fat digit of the debutante's foot. As Rita watched Timmy work, she could see the beginnings of a potentially ravenous whore in the young man, perhaps even more lascivious in nature than Bessie. The idea of seeing Timmy with a big butt, a pair of jiggly breasts, and an air-headed expression with a perpetual "o" shape to his lips to reflect his essentially brainless nature began to appeal to her. Although, unlike Bessie, it would be Rita Noble holding her personal slut's leash. Rita closed her eyes and rested her head back as Timmy's lips slowly closed around her big toe, and she could feel him sucking slowly upon it. Freeing her other foot from its shoe, Rita moved the foot over to rub against the side of Timmy's face as he continued to suck deeply upon the toe. The odor upon the foot made him moan a bit in his ecstacy. She then pulled the toe Timmy was sucking upon out of his mouth and then rubbed the odorous soles of both of her feet against the femininely-dressed young man's face. She could hear Timmy sniffing as she rubbed, and he began to pant loudly. Hovering the big toe of the other foot...the left...in front of Timmy's face, he began to lick slowly around it as the right one continued to rub at one side of his face. She clearly heard him sniffing even as he was licking. Timmy spent the next couple of hours tending to Rita's feet in this manner, and the self-satisfied smile remained on the lips of the debutante as she closed her eyes, and envisioned Brock doing exactly what his son was doing at this very moment. The next phase of Timmy's feminization, however, needed to be applied. To do so, however, she needed to get him over to her place once again. Her voice feigned a worrisome tone when she spoke. "Oh, dear. You've been at this for so long, it has gotten late! You have work tomorrow, yes? I hope you can make it home in time to get enough sleep!" As Timmy was clearly and visibly overwhelmed from the experience of tending to...and being addicted to the odor of...Rita's feet, he looked up at the curvy debutante with a very weary and slack-jawed expression. "Huh?" Rita craned her neck down towards Timmy's face. "Don't you have work tomorrow? It's gotten very late." "Wuh...work..." He then gasped with the realization. "...oh, shit..." The debutante shook her head shamefully. "You really need to be aware of the time, silly girl. By the time you get home, you won't be able to sleep for very long before you need to wake up for work." Timmy, who was still on the floor, looked up to Rita with a pleading expression. "Could I...c-could I stay with you tonight? I mean, at your home?" He softly asked. Rita's lips curled into a smile once again. This was exactly what she hoped to bait him into doing. This was becoming far too easy. "I suppose I could do that, yes...but only on one condition." Timmy's head tilted to the side curiously. "Yes?" "For every day before the Halloween party this weekend, after work, I need you to come see me here at Cincher's," Rita explained. "You're going to tend to my feet every night for about two hours. Then, you're taking the next bus back home. Also..." She indicated the one- piece dress Timmy was wearing. "...when you arrive here, you're going to go right into the bathroom and put that on before you step over to me. Are we clear, slut?" "Yes, Madame Noble." Rita then gestured for the boy to stand, and then had him follow her out of the club to the debutante's car in the VIP Parking Lot outside once he had collected the office clothes he had taken off. Some of the eyes of the patrons of the club on the main floor followed him as he walked, and he couldn't help but blush in mild embarrassment, given the way he was now dressed. The music Rita played in the car during the ride over to her place soothed Timmy's mind even further, and his eyes grew heavy-lidded as a gentle smile played on his lips. As the music played, Rita spoke words which effectively reinforced the mental conditioning that had already been fed to his mind. Her words also implanted unto his mind the raw beginnings of a reliance on feminine posture as well, seeing as how Rita wanted to at least see him begin moving like a girl. "When I do not want you on the floor, you're going to practice your posturing. Don't overdo it, either," Rita instructed. "You'll just look silly." Once they got out, Timmy applied a subtle sway to his hips as he moved. He hoped he was getting it right. And when they were inside Rita's house, she once again pointed down to her carpeted floor, and Timmy lowered himself down to it until he was on his knees. But then, a thought occurred to him. "Uh, Madame Noble...may I make a call to my mom? Let her know where I am?" "You won't have to, dear. I sent her cell phone a text message," Rita replied. "I am her boss, after all. Isn't it funny how that works out? She's your mom, and yet, she works for me. And then, I find a way to make the both of you very happy here in Bullchester. Happy in ways that money can't buy, even. All you have to do is trust in your Goddess, slut." Timmy nodded. "Um...is there anything to eat? I'm...kinda hungry." Yet another request, and as such, another means to deepen the boy's conditioning. "I can fix us both something to eat, sure. But you have to do something for me while I'm cooking. Wait here a moment." Stepping away for a couple of minutes, Rita returned holding a large and realistic-looking representation of a man's cock, this one made of silicone rubber. She held it out to Timmy as she spoke. "This is called a dildo," Rita explained. "While I am cooking, I want you to start licking and sucking upon it. The same way you did with my big toes. Just imagine that this dildo is my big toe, and I know you're always soooo hungry for that. Keep licking and sucking on that dildo until I tell you your dinner's ready. Are we clear?" This seemed like an odd request at first, but Timmy was really hungry for food. "Y-yes, Madame Noble." Rita nodded in acknowledgement, smiling, and then walked over to a CD Player. Turning it on, she slipped a disc into its front loader. "I'll put on a little music so it's not so quiet in here." Once the music began playing, Rita gave Timmy a wink, and then went into her kitchen as the boy looked upon the dildo he had been given. As with the music in the car, the melodies sounded soothing, and quite pleasant to Timmy's ears, and a subtle voice began to whisper with the music. This voice seemed to be compelling him to begin what Rita had asked him to do, and he found himself licking slowly and lustfully around the realistic-looking silicone rubber. Subtle feminine moans joined in with the whisperings, and this made Timmy even more willing to continue to lick around, and then suck upon, the dildo he had been given. Moments later, the smell of food reached Timmy's nose, but he was now pulling and pushing the length of the dildo into and out of his mouth, never pulling it out past the crown. He even found himself moaning along with the voices embedded within the music. As Rita brought out the food, she noted that the CD was about to finish up, and as she placed the steaming plates upon the dining room table of her house, she glanced over to Timmy and confirmed that he was indeed sucking in a quite convincingly hungry manner upon the dildo. Oh, yeah. She thought to herself. You are going to be one sex- hungry little whore for sure, my little bimbo bitch. She waited a couple more minutes, observing Timmy's oral work on the dildo, and she then stepped over to the CD player to stop the music. "Dinnertime, slut," She then announced, keeping a convincingly kind smile on her lips. Rita explained what was to happen next as Timmy began eating his delicious meal. "After you're done with your dinner, I want you in the shower. I'll give you more of that body wash before you go in. Then you need to get right to sleep. I'll drive you over to Hanel's office tomorrow morning." Timmy nodded, smiling. "Thank you, Madame Noble. I really appreciate that." As the subject of her revenge lingered in the shower stall, Rita unwrapped one of Celeste's Tear Duct syringes, this one filled with a liquid that was part of a series of applications designed to apply a feminine physique to a male. Carefully holding the Tear Duct in her closed hand, she then waited for Timmy to emerge from the bathroom. Her only regret here was that the shampoo in the stall did not have the hair growth qualities that the shampoo she slipped into the Portnoy house had, but Timmy's now longer hair was at a feminine length as it was. And now that Timmy was in her shower stall, this was about as much of a point-of-no-return for the young man as there was, given the more...unique qualities of Rita's water feed. The sneaky debutante figured that the boy's male physique would now begin to diminish over the next couple of days. She could hear Timmy moaning softly in his pleasure over the feel of the water and the yellow-tinted mists that factored into triggering his subtle, but evident alterations. Once the boy came out, he looked like he was floating. His eyes were half-lidded, and he had a gentle smile on his face. Rita decided to keep Timmy on his feet as she brought him into a guest room, which had a comfy-looking bed inside it. "Tuck in now, dear. I'm going to give you something which should help you sleep better tonight. When you wake up, you should be quite well-rested and ready to help your boss tomorrow." Timmy curled into a comfortable position on the bed as Rita exposed the small needle end of the Tear Duct, which she applied to his posterior. Timmy felt a slight pinch once the needle broke his skin, and Rita squeezed the content within the accompanying plastic container into his bloodstream. Rita then bent down to plant a kiss on his smooth cheek as she pulled the bed covers over him. "Have a good night, my silly little slut," She then whispered. Once the lights went out, it did not take long for Timmy to lapse into a dreamless sleep, feeling confident that he was in good hands with Rita looking after him this night. He felt wonderful. Far more comfortable than he had ever been in his life. This made it all the easier for Timmy to go to sleep. * * * - QueenCel '< : Well, I guess you're getting your slut after all, aren't you, Rita? - LovlyRita '< : Did you have any doubt? - QueenCel '< : With Mary Margaret Katzhoff in town? Yes. - LovlyRita '< : ? - QueenCel '< : Maggie. The one who kept you from bringing Timmy to the salon. - LovlyRita '< : Oh, but that's the irony. I didn't go after him at all after my first run-in with Maggie. He came to me. I didn't have to do a thing. He went to the park last Sunday to thank me for giving him that list of job offerings we arranged. The new strategy is clear. I make it possible for him to ask favors of me, and I ask for something in return. In so doing, he goes deeper into my little rabbit hole. - QueenCel '< : So he comes to you rather than you pulling him in. Intriguing. - LovlyRita '< : He's going to become a very ravenous little slut by virtue of his own whims, so Maggie can't accuse me of forcing him into anything against his will. He's already responding quite wonderfully to his re- conditioning. - QueenCel '< : He's a gullible little find, isn't he? And...his mother? - LovlyRita '< : I thought she'd be more of a challenge, but one visit to the Butterfly Salon made her so much more pliable. I'm tempted to ask for that whole suburb, seeing as how both Portnoys are practically mine. - QueenCel '< : Don't get ahead of yourself. Ruth still needs a little more work if she's going to replace me at the salon. Just keep working on Timmy. I figure that after the Halloween party, we can pick up the pace with them. - LovlyRita '< : Seeing as how just about everyone in Bullchester is going to that party, have you decided who you're going as? - QueenCel '< : I'm the Mistress Of All Evil. Who else could I be? >;) - LovlyRita '< : And...do you think she will be there? - QueenCel '< : Oh, trust me, Rita. I'm counting on it. Xavier is furious. All we need to do is get her outside. I'm tempted to watch him tear her apart. - DivineFem '< : Out of the question. - QueenCel '< : EXCUSE me?? - DivineFem '< : I said OUT OF THE QUESTION. There will be no assassination attempts on Miss Katzhoff, and that is that. In fact, you're going to promise me that Maggie will be left alone, Celeste. - QueenCel '< : I know more than one person uses that 'DivineFem' account. Who the fuck is this?? - DivineFem '< : If I do not get the promise I'm asking for, Xavier will wind up in the Fertility Clinic by the end of the week. - DivineFem '< : Shall I give you a five-count, Celeste? - QueenCel '< : How do I know this isn't Maggie herself, using that goddamn hacker of hers to get into that account? - DivineFem '< : Five - QueenCel '< : She. Is. Going. To. Fucking. Ruin. EVERYTHING. WE HAVE TO KILL HER. - DivineFem '< : Four - LovlyRita '< : Respectfully, Celeste, we actually don't know that for sure. - QueenCel '< : Stay out of this, Rita. - DivineFem '< : Three - QueenCel '< : IDENTIFY YOURSELF, BITCH!! - DivineFem '< : Two - QueenCel '< : I can't see how Gemma would have any interest in this, and I know she uses this account as well. - QueenCel '< : Wait. - QueenCel '< : Oh, bullshit. BULLSHIT. - QueenCel '< : No. You can't be. That's too fucking INSANE unless you - DivineFem '< : One - QueenCel '< : OKAY OKAY YOU FUCKING WIN! I PROMISE! I PROMISE! I'LL KEEP XAVIER AWAY! But I'm not gonna be the one to take the blame for Maggie slicing ALL of our throats open over this! - DivineFem '< : Thank you, Celeste. You break your word, and it will be YOU who will wind up in the Fertility Clinic. Blessed be the Divine Feminine. ----===*HOSTCHECK: DivineFem is no longer online, QueenCel*===---- - QueenCel '< : If that was Agatha... - LovlyRita '< : You think she might know something we don't about Maggie? - LovlyRita '< : Celeste? - LovlyRita '< : Hello?? - QueenCel '< : Good night, Rita. ----===*CHAT TERMINATED*===---- * * * As comfortable as Timmy's sleep was, there was one thing he noticed within moments of him rising up out of bed about ten minutes before the alarm clock he had set went off. His butt felt very warm. As he had gone to bed naked, he was able to slowly rise to his feet and look at his own posterior. There was a slight, but evident redness there. It didn't hurt, but it definitely felt warm. Even when he placed a hand against it. He didn't think too much of it as he took the business suit Rita had obviously left for him. It was one of the other suits his mother had bought for him. Timmy was confused at first, but he then came to the conclusion that Rita contacted his mom to have it brought over while he was sleeping. Or she had sent someone to get it. The bra and panties that had been left for him were black, and the stockings gave his smooth legs an olive sheen when he put them on. He brushed his long hair back and slipped the hairband over the hairline, just as Rita had done for him yesterday. It was when Timmy slipped on the slacks, which was gray with thin white pinstripes, that he noticed the slight oddity that he figured was the reason for the warmness in his butt. The waist was a bit tight. He was certainly able to move, but he felt a little more constricted at the waist. Rita appeared at the door to the guest room at that point, and Timmy immediately turned to face her, ready to lower down when she pointed to the floor. Rita made no such gesture, however. She smiled instead. "How are you feeling, dear?" Timmy nodded, smiling back. "Uh...good. I'm ready to go." Rita giggled at this. "Not until you've had breakfast, silly girl," She gestured for him to follow her as she spoke. Practicing his feminine posturing for Rita's sake, Timmy lowered himself unto his seat, keeping his legs together as per the debutante's conditioning. Rita spoke as she placed a plate of fresh pancakes in front of him. "You should start thinking about makeup, dear. You don't want to look so plain in front of any clients that are visiting Larry." Timmy shrugged as he poured syrup over the stacked cakes. "I don't know anything about that." Rita smirked as she settled down in front of her breakfast. "I could teach you, you know. There's not much to it. Cover your face in foundation, then the eyeliner, mascara, lipstick, blush. That's basically it." "Naah," Timmy replied after swallowing a mouthful of food. "I'll be okay without it." The curvy debutante nodded, with an expression of mild disappointment. "For now," she quietly added. Timmy maintained the slight feminine sway of his hips as they walked to Rita's car. As the sneaky debutante played more of that gentle and soothing music infused with the undercurrent of hypnotic tones, Rita began going into more detail about the application of feminine makeup as Timmy's eyes went half-lidded once again. She was able to get Timmy to Larry's office a good fifteen minutes before Larry himself usually arrived, and she gave Timmy a white shopping bag before he stepped out. "This is for tonight after work. Do not open that bag until then. Remember...go right into the bathroom and change, then head right up to the VIP Lounge. Have a good day, slut." As Rita drove off, and Timmy waited, he began to feel a bit nervous. Something was clearly on his mind in the time in which he waited for Larry to arrive. He wondered, with all the little changes he had been going through, if he was going to remain employed for much longer. He didn't even receive his first paycheck yet. It was only his first week, and he was doing so well as Larry's secretary. He wanted very much to tend to Rita's feet again, and to inhale the odors he enjoyed sniffing. Timmy was already looking forward to his after-work time at Cincher's, where he knew he would be back on the floor in front of Rita. A short time later, Larry's car drove into his parking spot, and when he emerged from the vehicle, he flashed a smile to Timmy, and then stepped over to the trunk of his car. "Mornin', sport!" Opening the trunk of his car, he pulled out a large box, which the markings indicated was a coffee-making machine. As he pulled it out, Timmy rushed over. "I'll get that, sir!" He called out. "No, no, don't you worry. I've got this," Larry assured, handing Timmy the key to the front door of the office home. "You jus' get th' door open." Such was his conditioning that he moved in a considerably effeminate manner as he moved to open the door, swinging it wide open so Larry could pass in front of him. Once they were inside, it fell to Timmy to unbox and set the coffee machine up where Larry indicated while the attorney went ahead inside his office to settle in. Larry had also brought in a shopping bag containing coffee filters, two cartons of milk, two boxes of sugar, and three clear plastic bags full of foam cups, all of which he tasked Timmy to set up along with the machine. As the coffee machine had an instruction manual, he was able to set things up to the point where the machine was up and running, and boiling up water in preparation for its first pot. Larry stepped out of the office when the smell of coffee filled the air, and he checked out the setup, ultimately deeming it satisfactory. "Good job, sport," Larry complimented. "Y' musta done this b'fore." "Actually, no, sir. I...I haven't," Timmy admitted. "The manual was my guide." Larry nodded. "Well...not bad for a first-tim'r then," He then gestured to Timmy's desk. "Go on ahead an' set up. Get th' rest o' those lett'rs typed. Only got one appointment t'day, barrin' new clients visitin'. Jus' b'fore lunch. That...Queen Bitch o' Bullchest'r, I'm afraid. Wish me luck." Timmy nodded in acknowledgement, an uneasy look on his face as he began powering up his desktop. "I...I'll be ready on the coffee, sir." "Good, good. I'll leave you to it, then," Larry then disappeared into his office. Timmy felt a little more at ease once he had engrossed himself in the typing of the letters that remained unaddressed. When he sat in his chair, he crossed his legs effeminately, as his conditioning had practically made it a reflex action. The morning hours rolled by quickly, and Timmy was within a page of completing a letter when the doorbell rang. Checking the time on the clock, it was 11 am. Rising from his seat, he moved to open the door... ...and sure enough, Celeste was on the other side of it. She smirked as her eyes fell on Timmy. "Good morning, Miss...Mistress," He quickly corrected himself as the woman stepped past him. Once Timmy closed the door behind him, Celeste whirled around to look upon the more effeminate-looking boy. "You'd look better with a skirt. You should start wearing them from now on," She then looked over to where the coffee machine had been set up. "Hmmm. You couldn't have bought that, unless Larry gave you an advance on your paycheck." "He bought it on his own, Mistress," Timmy replied. "I just installed it today." Celeste then stepped over very close to Timmy, her eyes narrowing as she gently placed her hands on his lightly-quaking shoulders. She then brought her lips close to Timmy's right ear. "Where's the tea?" she then asked. "U-uhhh..." was all Timmy got out in response. Celeste shook her head in disappointment. "You are such an airhead, Tammy Porntoy." She spoke directly into his ear now, in a very tempting tone. "So busy dreaming about sucking your boss's thick, warm cock...and drinking every last drop of the man juices you crave...that you can hardly...think...straight." Timmy just closed his eyes, trying to block out the urge. He felt his own cock begin to stir over these suggestions. But Celeste was relentless as she pressed her body against his. "You want cock," she whispered sensually. "You crave cock. You need it." Celeste then stepped away from Timmy, who was still shaking nervously, and went right for the door to Larry's office. She turned to Timmy before opening it. "I want my coffee black, girl. No sugar. Get it ready for me." She then disappeared into Larry's office, leaving Timmy to try and compose himself. His hands were still shaking as they went to pour the coffee into a cup. Knocking twice, Larry called for him to enter, and Timmy stepped over to Celeste to hand the coffee to her. Celeste flashed an unexpectedly sweet smile. "Thank you, Timmy." She then turned her head to Larry. "You've got yourself a really good secretary here, Larry. I am very impressed." Larry nodded, also looking to Timmy in appraisal. "Yup! He's workin' out jus' fine." "Did you want any coffee, sir?" Timmy asked Larry. "Oh, no thank you, Timmy. I...I'm good," Larry replied, smiling. "You go on back t' those lett'rs." Timmy nodded, smiling, and stepped back out of the office, once again engrossing himself in his typing work. As he worked, he began to hear a single raised voice which was unmistakably Celeste. He could not, however, make out the words she was yelling and growling. In the whole twenty minutes Celeste was in there, Timmy did not hear Larry raise his voice at all. Clearly, Celeste was losing her mind over something. When the door finally opened. Timmy was able to clearly hear Celeste's final words as she turned back to Larry, speaking in a clearly acidic tone. "Just remember that you are surrounded, Mr. Hanel. Sooner or later, you may feel like you want to get out of Bullchester...and when you do, you'll quickly find that we will not let you escape." "I'll always have th' law on my side, Celeste," Larry calmly countered. "An' you ain't the only one with pow'rful friends. Now...you have a nice day. Oh...an' please leave my secretary alone from now on, unless you're wantin' coffee." She angled her head to Timmy, smirking once again. "Or tea." She then shut the door behind her. Undaunted, Celeste stepped back over to Timmy, who swallowed audibly. She brought her face within inches of Larry's secretary. "Ssssuck," Celeste then whispered, slowly and enticingly. "Cock." She then headed for the front door with a wicked grin, and disappeared behind it. Timmy let out a long sigh of relief once Celeste was gone. He then went back to work on the letters. Larry then stepped out of his office, also looking a bit relieved. He then moved to Timmy's desk. "How're we doin' there, sport?" "Two more letters after this one, sir," Timmy replied. "I should have them done by the end of the day. After lunch. I saved the files to your drive, as always." Larry nodded. "Good, very good. C'mon. Let's go get some food." The drive to their usual eatery in town was quiet, as they both had something on their minds. Timmy figured Larry would open up a little more during their lunch, although he had his own concerns which he was afraid to expose regarding his very appearance. Larry was quick to pick up on this concern in Timmy's face as they began to eat. "Penny for y' thoughts there, sport?" "Uhh...um...." Timmy was visibly hesitant, but he found a way to at least hint at it. "...h-how am I doing, sir?" Larry smiled in response. It was more of a reassuring kind of smile. "Didn't I tell ya y' didn't have t' worry 'bout a thing? That I was no dummy? That y' could dress in a tutu for as long as you'd still be able t' do that work you've been doin' so well?" "But..." Timmy sounded even more nervous now as he gestured to his face. "...what if I...I started wearing, you know..." He hoped Larry's response wouldn't be an irritated one, but he instead shook his head and chuckled. "Yes, sport. I'm totally fine with you wearin' makeup. If it makes y' more comfy, I won't strike ya for it. Jus' as long as it looks professional. That's all I ask." Timmy nodded in acknowledgement, feeling a little relieved as he continued eating. "Aft'r all...we're livin' in more tolerant times, aren't we?" Larry added. "More rights for men t' marry men, an' women marryin' women, addressin' discrimination in th' workplace an' outside it...it's a brave new world, sport. Sooner or later, even all that man-hat'r posturin' from people like Celeste is gonna set 'em apart from all th' rest, an' there will be no place for 'em t' hide. They'll be seen less as crusad'rs pushin' an ideal, an' more like criminals who jus' think about themselves." Timmy thought on these words, seeing the wisdom in them as he nodded in acknowledgement. He had an urge to ask about the threat Celeste had made, but he ultimately kept quiet about it. "Jus' keep it professional, sport," Larry reminded as he finished his meal. "That's all I ask." * * * The young man called Leon, who was still going to the Bullchester school called Feetham's, had been quite upset over the fact that they could not arrange a lawsuit against the school over the corporal punishment incident. His father had promised him, however, that he would raise the issue with the Mayoress herself. He had not thought anything would come of it, but lo and behold, his father had informed him that Mayoress Stroud wanted to meet with him personally after his school day. The only caveat was that he could not be late for his appointment. He was in high anticipation when the day for his appointment arrived. Leon felt certain that he would be vindicated in some way. Perhaps through Mayoress Stroud, he could make arrangements for the court case, and he'd finally be able to somehow sue Feetham's for what they did to him. He stepped over to the desk of the Mayoress's secretary, Jemima, who seemed to be in the midst of scolding someone over the phone as he approached. "Don't give me any 'buts', Xave! You want a meal, you make it your damn self! I'm not making any special arrangements! Maybe you can surprise me by getting a meal ready for ME when I get home, eh? Yeah, I know. Shocking, right? Consider yourself challenged," She slammed the phone receiver down and looked up at Leon. She started to speak, but she stopped herself, and took a deep breath, calming herself down a little before speaking in a coldly professional voice. "Do you have an appointment, young man?" "Uh, yeah," Leon replied. "I'm a little early." Jemima nodded. "Sit," She then requested, in an unpleasantly firm tone. Five minutes later, Jemima signaled for Leon to go in. The boy sprang up from his chair and hurried right in. The Mayoress's hair sported a tight sock bun style when Leon entered. She flashed a cordial smile to him as she gestured to one of the chairs in front of her desk. "Have a seat, Leon." Once he had settled himself into the comfy leather chair, Stroud leaned towards him as she spoke. "So I understand you've been having some problems at Feetham's?" "I got spanked there by one of the teachers," Leon remarked. "Is that a standard way of punishing students there? Because last I heard, they don't do that anymore." Julia shrugged. "Feetham's is a bit old-fashioned. They think the old ways are best to discipline their students. Why were you spanked?" "I complained about all the homework Mrs. Figgis gives us," Leon replied. "All that damn math. I'm not interested in that shit." Julia raised an eyebrow. The files in front of her revealed far more than a dislike of homework. His record revealed a propensity to bully others around. The Mayoress, however, played along, while figuring out what to do with him at the same time. "They say math is the key to the universe, you know." Leon's tone was visibly stubborn in his conviction. "I don't care! And I don't understand why there's no real sports there other than girl sports! Why don't they have a football team or something?" "Because it doesn't suit the Feetham's curriculum," Julia responded. "You can't always get what you want, you know. Sometimes, you have to make do with something even though you don't like it." "Make do with what?? Beauty school courses??" Leon cried out. "I heard Feetham's used to be a boys school, too! What's the big idea??" Julia calmly raised a hand in restraint. "Please keep your voice down, Leon. Remember...you're a guest here. If you can't behave yourself, I can end this meeting early and attend to far more important matters, but I don't want to do that," The Mayoress then rose up from her chair and stepped over to Leon. "Let me get you something to drink. Do you like Iced Tea?" Leon sighed out loudly in his irritation, already feeling like this visit was going to get him nowhere. Still, he more or less remained calm. "Yeah, that's fine." Having looked up Leon's file in advance of his visit, Julia knew that he might become a potential problem in terms of his volatile personality, so the Mayoress had mixed her infectious, body-altering semen within the large jug of Iced Tea that she had Jemima prepare in advance. All Leon needed to do was drink it. Even a sip would do the trick. She handed the full foam cup of iced tea to Leon with another pleasant smile on her face. "I'm sure we can, perhaps, try and make an arrangement or two to make things a little less stressful for you at Feetham's. I can talk to members of the faculty about you, and perhaps we can find something for you there that might actually interest you." Leon tilted the cup, allowing a large portion of the iced tea to enter his mouth, and then swallowed it. The beverage was surprisingly tasty, and had a strangely spicy touch to it that he could not put his finger on. "Kinda doubt..." He then blinked in his confusion as he was hit with a sudden and unexpected dizzy spell. "...it..." Julia maintained her pleasant smile as she settled back down in her chair. "Hmm. Maybe you're right. Maybe all you want is to just show off that nice ass of yours in a sexy lycra dress that hugs your curves as if it were a second skin." Leon began to feel weird, although the iced tea was quite good. Drinking the rest of it in the next tilt, the room seemed to spin a bit from his perspective. He found it a little difficult to form words as he wavered in the chair. A tingling feeling also began to build, as if he had lightly struck the ulnar nerve at his elbow, and he was feeling it all over his body. "Errrh...rresss...?" A more sly smile was on the mouth of the Mayoress now, She knew she had given him a potent dose of her seed. She spoke enticingly and alluringly now. "Mmmm. Dress...caress...confess. You like to dress. The dress...will caress. You want the caress...of a tight, sexy dress. Confess. You need to dress." He was panting now, his eyes half-lidded. Leon's head continued spinning. He could feel a bit of pressure in his ears, and the only voice that stood out in his mind was Julia's. "D-dress...dress...I- I....dress...wh-wha..." His head drooped down a bit, and he struggled to keep it back up as Julia rose from her seat to step over to the hopelessly confused boy. "Confessssss," Julia enticingly hissed into Leon's ear. "You need to dressssss. Say it. 'I need to dressss.'" He craned his head up to look into Julia's eyes. He found her so much more beautiful-looking now as he spoke. "I....I n-need to...dressss..." "Sssssexy dressssss," Julia alluringly hissed. "I want a sssssexy dressssss. I want a sssssexy dressssss. Confesssss. I want a sssssexy dressssss." "Yes...I...I want a sexy dress...." She knew his mind was now very pliable, and that her every suggestion would be locked in. "Lipstiiiick...mascaaaaraaaa...eeeeyeliiiiineeer...bluuuussssh.. .eeeeyeshaaadoooow...fooooundaaaaatioooonnn...conceeeaaaleeeeerrr..." Julia kept repeating the words over and over, knowing they would imprint themselves upon Leon's fully-susceptible mind. Initially attempting to fight whatever it is that had come over him, his will began to soften as his pliable mind soaked in the need for tight, sexy dresses, and surrendered to the notion that he begin using the articles of feminine makeup that were being imposed upon him. Julia kept going, pacing behind where he sat, continuing to speak in her enticingly slow manner. "Teeeease your haaaairr...ssssexy haaaaaiiirr...looooong, sssexy haaaaaiiirr...sex...sex...sex, sex, sex, sex..." Leon was feeling hopelessly soft and buttery inside by now as a sweet smile now formed on his lips. "Sssssexy...mmmm...ssssex..." Julia rubbed at his mullet-styled hair. "You want to be so sssexy for your Mayoress, don't you, Lenore?" "Ohhh, yessss...yesss..." The boy rubbed his fingers lightly over his face, in an effeminate manner, as the Mayoress continued to rub at his hair. "...I wanna be sssooo ssssexyyy...mmmh..." "Yes, you do. Sex, sex, sex. That's all you ever think about, Lenore, you silly girl," Julia lightly chided. She then craned the boy's head up with a single finger as she leaned down, looking right into his dazed eyes. "And you want to learn to be pretty, don't you? I can arrange to have you take those beauty classes at Feetham's, but you need to be well-behaved for me. Don't bother anyone anymore. Just concentrate on your schoolwork. Can you do that, Lenore?" As the potent dose still kept his mind open to Julia's suggestions, Leon nodded, keeping his half-lidded eyes on Julia's. "Yes, Mayoress," he replied, in a softer tone of voice. "And every day, after school, I want you to visit a place called Rubie's Mall," Julia instructed. "In that mall is a place called the Butterfly Salon. I want you there every day. I'll schedule your appointments for you. They're going to help you look soooo sexy, dear. In a couple of days, you'll be ready to start your new job, working nights at a nightclub called Cincher's as its new VIP dancer. Just be sure you get home in enough time to get enough sleep for the next day." Leon giggled a little, feeling increasingly effeminate. "Yess, Mayoressss." "Now don't forget. Behave yourself from now on," Julia warned, wagging a finger for emphasis. "And that includes in front of your mom and dad." Leon nodded, still smiling sweetly. Julia then pulled Leon to his feet. "I'll have one of my assistants take you over to the Salon, so you know where it is. I'll schedule your first appointment there," She then kissed Leon on his forehead. "Have a good time, sweetheart." "Theeenk yoooou, Mayoress," Leon replied, still feeling inescapably soft inside. Julia led Leon outside, signaling for one of the office workers. Giving her the necessary instructions, the woman gestured for Leon to follow her, and the two of them disappeared behind the door to the hallway. Once Julia was back inside her office, she pressed a quick-dial button on her phone and began speaking once the lady on the other end...Maggie, this one the owner of the nightclub called Cincher's... picked up. "Hello, Maggie. It's Julia. Remember when you talked about wanting a Cincher's dancer that would be exclusive to your new VIP Lounge upstairs? I believe I may have someone for you by the end of the week..." * * * As the afternoon portion of his day passed uneventfully, Timmy boarded the bus quite anxiously, carrying the still-closed bag that Rita had instructed he take with him. As the plastic bag was a thick white, he was unable to see any hint of what was inside, although he was able to pick up a slight bit of squeaking as it moved about within. Settling into an empty seat, he now noticed that there was a kind of cushion-like feeling to his butt. Almost as if he had gained a little weight there. The waistline of his slacks felt a little tighter as well, and he wondered if it had anything to do with the burgers he had been eating during the lunch breaks he shared with Larry. Wouldn't it show in my gut, though? He thought to himself. Feeling at his tummy, it did not look any different from the way it did the past couple of days. Burgers and a small soda were his constant choices at the restaurant where Timmy and his boss ate. He wasn't about to believe that they could have caused a weight gain like this that quickly. Taking his mind off of this, he calmly waited for the bus to reach the stop that was close to Cincher's. He found himself fidgeting in a manner others would deem visibly effeminate...unconsciously playing with locks of his hair, crossing his legs in front of him...as the bus got closer. He practically had a spring in his step as he finally got off at his stop, hurrying over to Cincher's with quick steps. His feet practically moved on his tiptoes as he swayed his way over to the nightclub. The nightclub's owner, Maggie...a tanned and somewhat heavy-set woman with long, reddish-gold hair and an older frame, with a pair of large breasts covered beneath a red satin blouse with a low neckline...spotted him coming in and flashed a bright smile as she intercepted him. "Welcome back, dearie. Let's get you right to the bathroom so you can get changed. Rita will be here in about an hour." Once she was inside the lavatory, Timmy finally uncovered what Rita had provided him with. It was as he had expected from the minor friction of the material within. It was indeed a one-piece latex outfit, but this was something he had seen Rita wearing when she visited him at the office. Apparently, he was about to wear the same thing! Unfortunately, while the latex stretched very tightly against his slightly bigger posterior, the material felt very loose against his flat chest. Looking down at himself, he couldn't help but feel a sense of disappointment. But the feeling at his butt made up for that. He even noticed a bit of a jiggle as he moved about with his usual swaying posture. Double- checking his hair, and now feeling even more disappointed for the fact that his face looked so plain, he stepped back out of the bathroom after placing his office suit into the plastic bag. Maggie smiled once again upon spotting Timmy, and she gestured to the stairs. "Head right on up. Mmmm, that looks nice on you. Really shows off that great ass of yours." "Uhh...th-thanks." A hand went to his throat. He had noticed that his voice was beginning to sound a little weird. Slightly higher in tone. He reflexively cleared his throat as he ascended the stairs, and Maggie couldn't help but giggle a bit upon hearing this. As there were reflective surfaces along the walls, Timmy was able to get a good look at himself under the lights. He could not help but come to the same conclusion as he did in the bathroom. That flat chest of his made the upper part of the one-piece latex dress look odd, and he now felt a need for makeup on his face. Sighing, he lowered himself to his knees, and spent the next five minutes waiting patiently, still thinking about his want for makeup. Eventually, the sounds of high-heeled shoes ascending the steps to the VIP Lounge were heard, and Timmy took a deep breath as his eyes went to the stairs. Watching Rita come up the steps, to him, was like acknowledging divinity, or so his mental programming had made apparent. She looked upon him with a sweet smile as the curvy debutante closed the distance between them. Rita gestured for him to rise up, and he saw that she had brought along a bag of her own. Pulling a couple of sitting stools and a small table over, she gestured for him to sit at one stool, while Rita settled at the other. "Here. Take this and hold it open, dear," Rita instructed, handing Timmy the plastic bag, and he did as he was instructed. "Now hold your head steady now. Look right at me." Timmy felt anxious, and he could only guess what was in this bag he was now holding. Sure enough, his guess was right on target as Rita began applying foundation makeup to his face. He followed Rita's every instruction as she pulled out other articles of women's makeup. They looked like they were freshly bought and unused, too, as each of them were applied by Rita's steady hands. Mascara, eyeliner, and blush were applied to his face, and then a tube of ruby red-colored lipstick went onto his lips. Momentously, Rita slowly turned him around to face one of the mirrored walls, and he finally got a good look at his face in feminine makeup. And, alas, this appearance in and of itself was a trigger that had been implanted during his mental conditioning. Feminine makeup would now become a priority to him. Keeping his face looking pretty also became important to him. Staring at his now very feminine-looking face had him gasping in his pleasant surprise as the tips of his fingers went to his cheeks in his shock. "Wow..." he whispered to himself. He then turned back to Rita, who had risen from her seat... ...and he saw her pointing to the ground, smiling. Instinctively, he dropped to his knees as she slipped off her shoes. "I did an awful lot of walking today, slut," She settled back on the stool as she continued to look down at him. "It's time for you to take care of your Goddess, and make her feet feel better. Don't forget that you only have two hours." He could already smell the odor of the foot that Rita moved close to Timmy's face. "Yes, Madame Noble." Again, he could hear that his voice was a bit higher in its tone, but this was not as important as breathing in the scents coming from Rita's tired-out foot. He then began rubbing it gently, repeating the massage rhythms he had performed the previous night. "Mmmm. Very good, my little whore," Rita complimented as Timmy continued to rub. "Tell me something, dearie...how do you think your father would have felt about what is happening to you?" "It doesn't really matter now, Madame Noble," Timmy replied, still breathing in the scents from Rita's foot. "My father is gone. I...I never liked how he treated women. Or my mom. It just...seemed so ugly to me." Rita smiled upon hearing this. "And it pleases you that you are nothing like him at all, yes?" Timmy nodded. "Yes, Madame Noble." "And you would never treat any women like your father did, would you?" Rita then asked, raising an eyebrow. "No, Madame Noble." He shook his head as he spoke. Rita switched feet, and Timmy began working on the other one, sniffing at her foot as he rubbed at it. "And you never imagined, in your wildest dreams, that you could ever become a real female, did you?" "No, Madame Noble." "And yet, you know that's what's happening to you," Rita added, keeping the tone of her voice enticing as she looked down upon him. "That you can never go back to being your late father's son. You're too far down the road now. The only thing you can do is to keep going forward. Progressing further down the road towards total femininity, until you're just another delicious little slut for me to use as I see fit." Timmy stopped for a moment and then looked up to Rita's face now with a look of concern. "Am I...gonna lose my, um...m-my cock?" Rita could have burst out in uproarious laughter, but she didn't. This was far too delightful a thing for her to hear, and while she did let out a slight titter, she composed herself quickly. "Of course not, dearie...although I should tell you that your cock will become quite small and...kind of useless. But that's okay. You'll certainly make up for that as you continue to develop." "Um...did you want me to...uh...s-suck on your toes?" Timmy then asked. Rita shook her head. "Not with that lipstick on. Just keep rubbing my foot, slut. You'll need to go home soon, after all." Timmy nodded, smiling. "Yes, Madame Noble." There was one more thing she had to ask the effeminate boy. "And you don't mind at all when I call you 'slut', do you?" Timmy shook his head as he rubbed. "No, Madame Noble." "It makes you feel really sexy and dirty to be called that, doesn't it?" Rita enticingly asked. She then spoke the word a little more alluringly. "Slut." Timmy just continued to rub at the foot he was working on as Rita stared down at him with narrowed eyes, and a devious smile. "You can stop rubbing my foot now, you dirty little slut," Rita then commanded, keeping her voice calm. "Now...I want to feel your tongue run sloooowly along the sole of my foot. Drag that tongue from my heel to my toes. Lick it. Like a dirty little bitch." Holding the foot steady in his hands, Timmy began licking at the sole as he had been instructed to do, starting at the heel, and then progressing upwards slowly. He closed his eyes passionately as his moist tongue rubbed against the sole of the foot. Once his tongue felt the underside of the toes, he brought his tongue back down to the heel and began running the tongue upwards once again. "Yeeeessss, that's it," Rita hissed, still smiling sweetly. "Mmmm, you're such a good dog, slut. I bet you wish you had a collar around your neck right now, my sweet bitch." After a few passes of his tongue, Rita switched feet so that he could do the same with her other foot, and as he began licking at the sole, she softly spoke out once again. "That's it, bitch. Humble yourself before your Goddess. I'm going to dissolve your masculinity. Dissolve everything your horrible father might have hoped you would be. I'm going to make you soooo submissive to me. To make you soooo hungry for sex. For warm, thick cum. You're always going to want to smell my feet. Rub my feet. Lick my feet. Just like you're doing right now, Tammy Porntoy." Although Rita was checking the time, she began breathing slowly as Timmy continued to lick. She then angled her head back and let out soft moans of pleasure as the slow and sensual licks continued to go from her heel to the area beneath her toes, and then repeating thereafter. "Ooooh...I...I must admit..." Rita sounded as if she were in the throes of passion. "...I've never...had mmm-mmy feet licked...but I like it...oooh, yyyyeeesss...goooood bitch...keep licking...keep...l- lick...licking..." Timmy could hear Rita panting as he continued to work on the sole of her foot with his tongue. As his hardening cock was proving, this bit of licking was indeed stimulating him. He was getting turned on by being so dirty and compliant to Rita's wants. But a few moments later, Rita finally pulled her foot away and rose from the chair. She then held her hand out to him as she stood over the young man. "It's time for you to go, slut," Rita then glanced at Timmy's larger behind, and she then ran a hand over it. "Mmmm...it won't be long now before your ass starts jiggling. You're well on your way to an hourglass figure, aren't you, Tammy Porntoy?" Timmy was barely able to remember Maggie musing about this name, and he wasn't very thrilled to hear it. Nevertheless, he acknowledged her with a nod. "I...I'd better go, then," Timmy softly remarked, picking up the bag with his office clothes in it. "I'll see you tomorrow, Madame Noble." Rita, however, was able to grab him by the waist, and pull him in very close. Her lips were only a couple of inches from his as she softly spoke. "There's no escaping this. Remember that, girl." She could feel him shaking as she spoke, and she let him go. He still looked like he was quivering as he made his way over to the stairs, and quickly made his way back into the bathroom. Trying to dress himself with shaky hands proved problematic, but he was able to get the blouse back on. The slacks, on the other hand, became more of a problem. He could not fasten them now, and it was a struggle to get them over his butt as well. His posterior was just too big for them now. Glancing to the mirror, and seeing that he was still in his female makeup, he figured he might as well give it up, and go home and run the risk of his mother seeing him not only in makeup, but wearing a sexy one-piece pink latex outfit as well. Slipping the loafers back on, he re-bagged the office dress and hurried back out of the bathroom stall, ignoring anyone watching him pass. He then made an attempt to hurry over to the nightclub's exit...but the club's owner, Maggie, was able to stop him in his tracks, grinning as she gazed down at his footwear. "Hooold on there, sweetheart. Those shoes definitely don't go with that luscious latex." "I'll take my chances," Timmy quickly replied, still astonished at the sound of his own higher voice. "Excuse me, please." But Maggie stayed in his way. "Wait, wait. I should have the perfect pair of shoes for that. They should even be your size." "No thank you...please excuse me," This time, Maggie did not stop the feminized boy from heading out the doors to the club. He was able to rush over to where the bus was pulling in, and he hurried aboard. He noticed that he barely had enough change for the bus fare. He'd be in a bind for getting to work unless he got a loan from his mother. For the moment, he just settled in the seat he chose, and calmed himself as the bus continued to roll through the Bullchester city streets. His hand went to his throat as the bus continued its journey through its scheduled stops. He was still at a bit of a loss to believe he sounded so much more effeminate now. He couldn't figure out whether he should be scared, or...excited. His body never lied to him. There was a definite thrill to what he had been asked to do tonight for Rita. Licking her feet as well as rubbing and smelling them. He had this weird but evident sense that he was representing his father throughout all this. Accepting punishments on his behalf. He couldn't help but feel that this was karmically appropriate, as he was Brock's son whether he liked it or not. He just hoped that his two older sisters would not catch him looking the way he did now. They were contemptuous of him as it was for 'betraying' his dad prior to the divorce. Fortunately, the two tomboys were still away at college, going through their Sophomore and Junior years, respectively. But if there was no going back to his being a young man again, the confrontation was now inevitable. He put it out of his mind as the bus pulled in to his stop, and he made his way out with hurried steps. He took a deep breath, standing in front of his house, as the bus pulled away behind him. Timmy hoped he could just go in, and once again try to sneak past his mother while she was watching television. The smell of food, however, met his nose as he neared the front door. He was hungry, too. With another sigh, he stepped in. Moving into the living room of the house, Ruth was on her way into the room, and got a good look at how Timmy now looked, wearing his tight pink latex dress, with female makeup on his face, and with a noticeably larger butt to boot. They were both stunned upon seeing each other. With Ruth, it was plainly obvious to Timmy. Ruth, on the other hand, looked radically different from when Timmy last laid eyes on her. It was as if the older woman had taken another dip into the fountain of youth and had effectively removed the last vestiges of the wrinkles and the liver spots on her skin. Although she still looked heavy-set, she looked much more curvy and vibrant, too. He was reminded of the woman whose name was Judith Newlington as his gaze lingered on Ruth. Ruth was the first person to break the ice, pointing down at what her son was now wearing. "I...hope you didn't wear that to work." "No! No!" He initially answered, but he then cleared his throat and made an effort to sound a bit more manly. The voice came out sounding a bit silly, but he used the tone nevertheless. "No, I didn't, mom. My office clothes are in my bag here," He held the bag up as he spoke. "Aaaaaand...you got...what you're wearing now...from Rita?" Ruth then asked. Timmy figured that the proverbial jig was up, but he'd have a battery of questions of his own to shoot back once Ruth finished scolding him over his effeminate appearance. Timmy nodded still using the funny voice. "I did, mom." Ruth nodded. "But you didn't wear that to work." Timmy shook his head. He was expecting to hear some great big dialogue about her wanting a son, and not a daughter. About how boys shouldn't crossdress. At best, he'd get the whole 'life phase' thing. That this was just an experimental phase in his life, in which case he was sure that she would want the phase to come and go as quickly as possible. But to Timmy's considerable astonishment...and he tried not to let this show too much...Ruth just nodded. "Okay." She then gestured to the kitchen. "There's plenty of food left. I...just had mine. I figured I'd relax. You go ahead, though." Ruth then proceeded to settle herself into the couch and turned on the TV. Timmy was still a bit stunned as he proceeded into the kitchen to collect the food Ruth had prepared. He remained in the kitchen to eat as he contemplated this wildly unexpected reaction. But then he heard the show playing on the TV stop, followed by Ruth's footsteps approaching the kitchen. "You know...I kinda don't mind this, what you're doing. In case you're wondering. So long as Rita is keeping an eye on you. Men can get real predatory with you wearing something like that." Timmy nodded as he swallowed his mouthful of food. Once again, he spoke in his version of a masculine voice. "I know. I'll be careful, mom. Thanks." Before he filled his mouth with food, he decided to fire back with an equally interesting question. "How was the salon?" The answer came quickly, and the tone of her voice made it sound like a rhapsody as she spoke. "Oh, Timmy...going in that machine, I feel like I'm floating on water. You really ought to go sometime with me. They tell me I'm becoming their best customer, too! I feel so amazing." Timmy nodded. Not the answer he was expecting, obviously. "Good, good. That's...that's good." "I should ask if they have any jobs there," Ruth mused aloud as she turned back towards the living room. "I bet working there would be far more interesting than being a business executive." "Only if they'll pay more," Timmy slyly added, calling out so she could hear him. "Mmm, good point!" Ruth called back. Seeing a plastic bottle of completely different shampoo was a bit of a blessing when he stepped into the shower stall. A part of him wondered if this had been snuck in by Rita as well. Calling out to Ruth, he was able to confirm that not only did his mother get the fresh bottle of shampoo, but that she got it from Gourmandizer's. That was a bit of a relief as he lathered up with more of Rita's body wash. He wouldn't have to worry about his hair growing any further than it already had. A part of him missed being able to shower in Rita's stall at her lavish and extravagantly large home, as that was an unexpectedly wondrous experience in and of itself. By comparison, the shower he was taking now was...plain. Ordinary. Uninteresting. But at least he was clean when he was done. Standing in front of the full-length mirror in the bathroom, he got another good look at himself. He looked an awful lot slimmer now, and his posterior was visibly larger, giving him an odd shape. His posture, by consequence, was visibly more feminine now. After toweling off, he slipped on a fresh pair of panties and a bra and got under the covers. He just stared upwards for a few minutes, deep in thought, before he switched off the side light by his alarm clock, pulled the bedsheets over him and shifted to one side. Eventually, Timmy's eyes fluttered shut. * * * - LarryScotFree '< : Maggie? - MagDKat '< : Why hello there, Mr. Hanel. I wasn't expecting you to ring me up tonight. - LarryScotFree '< : Did I catch you at a bad time? - MagDKat '< : Nope! You lucked out. I just finished my workouts and my katas. - MagDKat '< : WAAAAZZZUUUUUUUUUUUUUP?? - LarryScotFree '< : You should know that my secretary is... well... looking less like a male secretary. - MagDKat '< : Oh, you mean Timmy. Shit. He probably went back to Rita. I would have been able to warn him if he had a cell phone. Shit. - LarryScotFree '< : I told him not to worry about how he's looking. As long as he keeps things professional. - MagDKat '< : Why I love ya, attorney man. You're a tolerant dude. Keep that up. - LarryScotFree '< : I don't think it's just Rita that's been messing with Timmy, Maggie. Celeste Richards came to see me. Twice. I think she's messing with his head as well. - MagDKat '< : FUCK. That's bad. And I've got all my own shit to do before that Halloween party, too. I'm afraid that's the only time I'm gonna be able to see Timmy next. - LarryScotFree '< : You realize it may be too late for him by that time. - MagDKat '< : Yeah. I may have to call in a couple of extra favors. Start chatting up the genetics contacts in my little black book. No one's going after me, though. I figured I'd have to fend off peeps looking to knock me out and send me to some dumb ol' mind-bending dungeon or something. - LarryScotFree '< : If I were in your position, I'd be worried. I already got a warning from the Queen Bitch of Bullchester. - MagDKat '< : Me? Warn you? But we've known each other for years! - LarryScotFree '< : LOL. I was referring to Celeste. - MagDKat '< : Pffft. She's just a mouth who hides behind her chemistry sets. - LarryScotFree '< : And...the OTHER woman? What was her name? Agatha? - MagDKat '< : Hmmm. No comment. - LarryScotFree '< : Well...I hope I don't earn myself a future beating for this one, but... what exactly do you want out of this place? I know you like it, and I sure as hell know why, but...is this some kind of power play? - MagDKat '< : Oh, hell, no. Become the Queen Bee? Fuck that shit. I'd rather sit on the sidelines and watch Celeste and Agatha go at it in the sandbox! - LarryScotFree '< : And...pour salt in the open wounds from time to time? - MagDKat '< : Only if they try to drag me into whatever crap they're contemplating. - LarryScotFree '< : Or...if they try to take Timmy away from you? You know...I'm still wondering, knowing you, if Timmy's gonna be no different from whatever Rita wants with him under you. - MagDKat '< : Oh, believe me, bubbie. There's a BIG difference between how he'll end up with Rita...and how much better off he will be under me. - LarryScotFree '< : Hmmm. The ol' Master-Apprentice thing? - MagDKat '< : Kinda-sorta. You see, under Rita, he'll be a thing. An airhead. He'd be kind of like a 'fuck-pet'. Like, if Rita sees a guy she wants, she'll point that guy out to Timmy and say 'See that guy? Fuck him for me!' - LarryScotFree '< : And...under you? - MagDKat '< : Under me. Hoooo boy. Under me, I could make that kid a weapon, and not necessarily the kind that deals out triple roundhouse kicks while carrying a submachine gun in each hand. - LarryScotFree '< : Well...I'll keep an eye on him, as always. Couple of days left before that Halloween party. I've already warned Celeste to stop bothering Timmy. - MagDKat '< : News flash. She won't give a shit for said warning. - LarryScotFree '< : Yeah, I know. It's a shame, too. He really is helping me out a lot. I'm tempted to give him a bonus when it's time for his first paycheck. - MagDKat '< : Are you going, Larry? Saturday, that is? - LarryScotFree '< : Nope. Got a full weekend, I'm afraid. Can't fit the Cincher's party in. - MagDKat '< : Awww, poo. I suppose that will keep you safe from big, bad Celeste, though. Don't forget, though...you have an edge against her chemical voodoo. - LarryScotFree '< : That I do. I'd probably have a pair of boobs on me by now otherwise. Makes me wonder if that's what happened to my cousin. - MagDKat '< : Which one? Barry? - LarryScotFree '< : Yeah. Barry Walsh. Haven't heard a peep out of him since he re-located following the trial. Checked his records recently. They're gone. - MagDKat '< : Are you sitting down? - LarryScotFree '< : Let me guess. He's Barbara now? - MagDKat '< : Sorry, Larry. According to the hacked records, she's doing some kind of midwife thing. - LarryScotFree '< : I almost won that case, too. - MagDKat '< : Would it make you feel any better to say that things are better now between her and Leanne now? - LarryScotFree '< : Only if she were still Barry. Well...I guess as long as they're happy. - MagDKat '< : Don't let your guard down, Larry. Not for one fucking minute. If you feel like they're tightening the noose, get the hell out. Just let me know, so I can take Timmy off of your hands. - LarryScotFree '< : Aside from that threat, no danger of that so far... but I'll remember what you said, Maggie. Thanks. - MagDKat '< : What I do when I'm chatting up friends like you, Larry. Because, you know...'Larry and me...' - MagDKat '< : Hey! C'mon! Don't leave me hangin' here, LARAINE! ;) - LarryScotFree '< : Always Scot Free. :) Have a good night, Maggs. - MagDKat '< : Stay macho, ya prude! ;) ----===*CHAT TERMINATED*===----