Cat And Mouse - A Cresswell Industries Story Pt 18 free porn video

XVIII: Pleasure and Pain The morning's light lingered upon his face from the window at the left side of Waldo's bed, rousing him from his sleep. Stretching the limbs of his slim, hairless upper body, Waldo lifted his torso off the soft, floral pink-covered mattress. A flowery perfume scent always filled his nostrils every time he inhaled within the room. Seating himself at his white vanity table after pulling off his rose- colored satin babydoll and gently draping it upon the bed, he began applying his facial foundation, followed by the brushing of his eyelashes with an application of mascara. A thin outline of eyeliner was then added, after which he applied a rosy blush to his cheeks. Waldo then spread a generous application of dark red lipstick upon his lips. Picking up a brush, he ran it back along his soft, shoulder- length hair, after which he fastened an alice band upon it to keep his hair from getting in his face as he moved and worked. Satisfied with his appearance, he picked up his glasses and placed them over his eyes. He then rose from the vanity seat, wearing only his lavender panties. As the size of his penis had diminished, the bulge at the crotch area was not very prominent. Pulling out a soft, sheer brown fabric ball from his dresser, he unraveled the bunched-up fabric to reveal a pair of pantyhose, which he carefully rolled down, and then pulled them onto his smooth, hairless legs one at a time. Over the pantyhose, he slipped on a pair of black slacks, which were the very same pair he wore when he first arrived at Celeste's home. Similarly, he still had his white, button-down dress shirt as well, which like his slacks were freshly-cleaned as per his evening regimen. Putting on the long-sleeved shirt and fastening only the bottom three buttons of the shirt, and then the cuffs at the ends of its sleeves, he tucked the bottom half of the shirt into his pants and then slipped his feet into a pair of black loafers. Moving back to his vanity to pick up a glass bottle of perfume spray, he misted both sides of his neck with the sweet-smelling compound before turning to leave his room. He felt the nipples of the small bumps at his chest rub stimulatingly at his shirt as he descended the stairs. As he approached the kitchen, he heard voices. One was male, the other was Celeste. Waldo cautiously entered the kitchen, not wanting to interrupt, but the heads of both of the kitchen's occupants...the male revealed to be a rather well-built black man in a gray business suit...angled to him. "Oh. Good morning, sweetie." Celeste then looked to the man as she gestured to Waldo. "This is the lab assistant I was telling you about. I'm...grooming him, so to speak." She now turned her gaze to Waldo. "This is Leonard Hardcastle. He is my newest business associate." Waldo offered a slight bow in greeting. "Nice to meet you," he remarked, in a soft, high voice, which was higher than it was the previous day. A slight smile now formed on Leonard's face as his eyes fell on the effeminate boy standing in front of him. "Likewise," he replied, in a deep voice that seemed to hint at a sophisticated personality. "I wonder if you could get me another cup of coffee." He then asked. Waldo nodded. "Yes, sir." He then grabbed the handle of Leonard's cup and stepped over to the coffee mug, which was half-full. Waldo filled the mug as Celeste spoke. "So your visiting cousin left your house in a bad state, eh?" Celeste mused, sipping from her own mug as Waldo placed the full coffee mug in front of her guest. "Yes. All those ridiculous 'house parties' while I was away on business. He was supposed to be housesitting for me." Leonard responded, sipping from his mug. "An unruly boy like him should be enrolled at Feetham's." Celeste smiled thoughtfully. "That can be arranged, you know." "Perhaps...I can assist in making said arrangements prior to his release from prison?" Leonard wondered aloud. "I don't think a man like Julius could be expected to fully change his ways by serving time on a misdemeanor charge." "We have actually developed a system by which we can deal with and...condition...criminals, whether they've been charged with a misdemeanor or otherwise." Celeste explained. "It's amazingly foolproof, too. You could say we...re-make...the offender." Leonard arched an eyebrow, glancing at Waldo. "Radically, I would imagine." Celeste grinned. "Quite." "I...don't suppose you have domestic cleaning services in Bullchester?" Leonard asked. "Oh yes, we do," Celeste answered. "Some of the better ones aren't advertised publicly, though...but they do carry a somewhat unique cost. I don't suppose we can factor this into our little bargain?" "Mmmm. That sounds fair enough." Leonard slowly nodded as he spoke. "Seeing as how we are already in agreement." Waldo had busied himself making pancakes as Celeste and Leonard spoke, preparing the pancake batter and then pouring rounds upon a hot pan. The sound of the sizzling cakes could be heard as the conversation continued. Leonard frowned in his curiosity. "I wonder if I could ask why it is necessary to act against the interests of your town's own...Mayoress, was it?" "We don't trust her." Celeste's amused expression had gone serious now. "Don't ask me to explain." The well-groomed black man nodded. "Very well." Celeste then rose to her feet. "And now, if you will excuse me, I need to slip away to the toilet for a bit. I'll be right back." Her gaze turned to Waldo. "Two for me, four for our guest. You can have the rest, sweetie. You know where the syrup and the butter is." "Yes, Miss Celeste," Waldo replied. He then turned back to the stove to watch over the developing pancakes. Behind him, Leonard had risen from his seat, and the taller man was looking down at Waldo as he worked. The effeminate boy felt a bit of excitement stir within him as the larger man's head hovered over Waldo's right shoulder. "They look good." Leonard spoke in his deepest voice, which was very close to Waldo's ear. "You must be a very good cook, my dear." He felt Leonard's hands settle upon Waldo's shoulders. The effeminate lab assistant began to pant as he continued regarding the pancakes. "I...I try, sir," Waldo replied, sounding a bit breathy. Sweetie LOVES to be near tall, strong men. She can hardly contain her excitement! Waldo was barely able to concentrate on completing the cooking of the pancakes, which were flopped onto plates he had pulled. He arranged the quantities as per Celeste's instructions. He was able to secure three pancakes for himself. Leonard remained behind the effeminate boy as he placed the plates upon the nearby table. The larger black man inhaled as Waldo placed the plates. "You smell very fragrant this morning, my dear." "Y...you like it, s-sir?" It was clear that Waldo's excitement was rising despite himself. "Oh yes," Leonard intoned, in reflection of his obvious interest. "I should...w-wear it more often, then." Waldo's hands shook as he went to a cabinet to acquire the syrup, and then to the refrigerator to grab a fresh stick of butter, unwrapping it and placing it upon a saucer so he could slice it into inch-thick cubes. After placing the butter cubes down, Waldo reached for the syrup and brought the small glass pitcher over to Leonard's hotcakes. "Yesss..." he alluringly intoned. "...drench it over my meal, little one. As if you were the pancakes themselves. Feeeeel the warm, thick juices as they cover every inch of you...as if you were kneeling before me, begging to be covered in my own thick warmth." Waldo's breaths were shaky now as his more compliant mind seemed guided by Leonard's words. He covered Leonard's stacked pancakes quite generously in the syrup, his mind envisioning the scenario the taller black man was outlining. Covering his own hotcakes in syrup, providing a dash of the condiment to Celeste's pile, and then topping Celeste's pile with a single butter cube, Waldo placed the nearly empty container of syrup on the table by the butter... ...and then felt Leonard's hands rub at the fleshy, puffy mounds on his chest. A rush of stimulation and excitement ran through the effeminate boy, his eyes closing as he felt the pleasurable sensations run through him. He began to pant a bit more heavily. "How can you dress like a boy..." Leonard whispered into the lab assistant's ear as he continued to grope at him. "...when you act...and feel...and smell...so much like a girl?" Leonard began to tweak at the nipples of Waldo's breasts, being careful not to pinch too hard. Waldo shuddered and quietly moaned over the amazing sensations that were filling his body as Celeste's visitor did this. "Perhaps you would like some...sausage...with your hotcakes?" Leonard suggested, keeping his tone soft and deep as he intoned, enticingly, into Waldo's ear. Celeste finally returned to the kitchen with narrowed eyes, knowingly sporting a wicked grin over Waldo's situation. "Oh yes. I'm sure my lab assistant would loooove that." She then settled herself back in her seat to begin cutting into her pancakes. "Why don't you pull down your pants and sit in Mr. Hardcastle's lap, sweetie?" Waldo blushed deeply. "Yes, Miss Celeste." As Leonard secured himself in his seat, in front of his four flap-jacks, the effeminate boy unclasped his black dress pants and let them slip down until they were around his ankles, exposing his hairless, sheer pantyhose-covered legs. Hearing Leonard tap on his lap, Waldo settled his butt down upon it. The large black man then wrapped his arm around Waldo's waist. Celeste pushed the plate with the stack of pancakes Waldo had arranged for himself next to Leonard's as her visitor began cutting into his own stack. "You should know, sweetie, that your new friend, Mr. Hardcastle, is not just a political asset," Celeste explained. "He's very well-versed in BDSM as well. He's a Master, as you might expect, and his specialty is in the training and discipline of effeminate sissy boys, just like you." As Leonard deposited the wedges of syrup-covered flap-jacks into his mouth with the fork in his hand, his other hand was now digging beneath the lavender panties until his fingers found Waldo's anus. The nervous-looking lab assistant let out a loud gasp, his eyes boggling, as two of the black man's long fingers began to burrow deeply into the hole. Swallowing down his mouthful of pancakes, Leonard looked to Celeste. "Is your lab assistant knowledgeable in cleaning? Perhaps I can borrow him for the sake of having my house restored." Celeste giggled. "I'm afraid not, Mr. Hardcastle. Waldo is...more of a personal fixture around here. He's a science major, too, so I need him around my labs to help with my own work. Of course, if you are ever back around here, you're free to use and abuse him as pleasurably as you wish." The black man nodded, a look of disappointment on his face. "Pity. He would have looked very sweet in petticoats." His fingers moved about within Waldo's hole, forcing the wide-eyed smaller man to writhe and gasp in Leonard's lap, "I am a little confused, though," Leonard continued. "From what you have told me, it was you who arranged to have Miss Stroud become the Mayoress of the city. Yet, you say you do not trust her?" Celeste glared at her guest now. "I told you. I have no desire to explain, Mr. Hardcastle." Leonard stabbed another stack of pancake wedges, and then brought the forkload in front of Waldo's mouth. "Open wide." He gently commanded. Upon doing so, Waldo's mouth was filled with the four wedges, which he closed his mouth around and then pulled off of the fork as Leonard pulled it out of his mouth. He then stabbed another four wedges as Waldo began chewing his mouthful. "I need political advantages so that I can keep Julia under control," Celeste explained. "That's all I'm telling you." Leonard nodded as he continued to wiggle and dig his two fingers into and around Waldo's anal hole, causing the effeminate boy to continue shivering and moaning as he chewed upon the pancake wedges. He then had Waldo eat the next four wedges even though he had just swallowed the pancake wedges Hardcastle had just fed him. "This one needs more weight," Leonard observed as the endless wiggling in Waldo's anus had the effeminate boy writhing in the larger black man's lap. "If he were mine, I would fatten him up. Give him a larger ass." Celeste giggled, having swallowed her own butter-tinged pancake wedges. "Sorry. I don't think Waldo is the big booty type." "Mmmm. Too bad." Dropping the fork on the plate, Leonard slipped his free hand beneath the shirt and once again began groping at one of the fleshy mounds of Waldo's developing chest, tweaking at the nipple with the tips of his fingers even as his other hand was continuing to wiggle in his butt. Celeste continued to watch with considerable amusement, flashing another wicked grin as Waldo responded wildly over this incredibly stimulating bit of groping. "Too bad he isn't yours, eh?" "Indeed. I cannot help but be envious," Leonard admitted, feeling the boy panting against his neck ecstatically as he laid against the larger black man's chest. "The way he surrenders so easily to my touch..." "We could do the same to Julius, you know." Celeste raised an eyebrow thoughtfully. "We could even make him even more pliant to you than Waldo has been." Leonard thought on this. "I...suppose we can cross that bridge when we come to it." He then withdrew his fingers from Waldo's anal hole and slipped his other hand away from the lab assistant's puffy chest. "Lower to your knees, boy." Waldo was quick to comply, panting heavily as he began to recover from all the groping he had been put through. Leonard rose from his seat. "I must go now." Hardcastle intoned, extending a hand. "When can I expect to see the house cleaned?" "I can have someone head over there later this afternoon, if you wish," Celeste answered. Leonard nodded, smiling. "Good, good. Thank you for the breakfast." He then turned to look down at Waldo, who was looking back up at him like a curious pet. He rubbed at his head of sweaty hair. "I hope to see you again soon, my dear. Perhaps you will be...a little more developed." Once Leonard and Celeste were out of the room and heading towards the front door, Waldo quickly dug into his untouched, cold pancakes, stuffing as many wedges into his mouth as he could. Somehow, the idea of being a little heavier now appealed to him. * * * While Leonard Hardcastle was in the car, he pulled his smartphone and waited until Celeste had gone back inside her home. "Miss Stroud? It is Leonard," he began as he started up his car. "It seems you were right, Madame Mayoress. She wanted me for political leverage to use against you. I did not get a chance to see the work your maid did, but I imagine the place has been...ahhh, very good. I am on my way over there right now. Are you sure you will not accept my offer for...okay, okay. I had to try, you know." Rolling his car out of its parking spot, he coasted out onto the road towards the freeway as he listened to a warning Julia gave him. "Madame Mayoress, I have years of experience being a BDSM Master, so I think I should be able to know how a woman like Celeste Richards thinks. I should be fine. She does have a rather delicious young man with her who she seems to be feminizing, though. No, I never got his name. My dear, if the house has been cleaned to my satisfaction, then you can count on my full support and my natural powers of persuasion over the masses...the 'black vote', so to speak...that will help you in maintaining your position as the Mayoress of Bullchester." * * * A bright white blur of light filled Tamara's vision as her eyes fluttered open. When her vision sharpened, she wished...in that moment...that they remained blurred. Widening her eyes, she saw that she was in a bed in what looked like a hospital room. Medical machines decorated the room, and medical charts were on the walls. On the ceiling, a very bright white light was beaming its illumination down upon the fullness of the room. But the sights were nothing compared to what she was feeling. She was completely naked, and a feeling of extreme fullness was at her gut. Looking down at herself, she gasped in total shock. Tamara's gut was now paralyzingly huge! She could hardly move. It felt as if she were either force-fed a billion pounds of food while she was unconscious, which seemed highly unlikely. The only other possibility was that she was... Her eyes widened considerably as her hands rubbed along the soft fullness of her tremendous stomach. She was a woman now, after all, and so it was entirely possible for her to bear children. Given the size of her gut, however, she looked as if she was going to give birth to more than one child! Such was her weight gain that Tamara could feel gravity press down upon her, effectively anchoring her to the bed. Her limbs could move around, but getting out of the bed was another story. Curiously, she was not hooked up to any machines, and there was no I.V. in her arm. There was, however, a white bandage keeping a large cotton swab in place on her right arm. All Tamara could do was sigh distressfully. It was difficult to keep from being scared out of her mind over her current situation. She was at a complete loss as to how this had happened to her. It then occurred to her that a lot of time must have passed, considering that she was apparently as pregnant as she was. Was she out for...what was it, nine months, she surmised? That seemed a bit farfetched, somehow. Nevertheless, her next thoughts were of Julia Stroud. Did she betray Tamara to the Cresswell ladies? Was it blackmail, or were there ulterior motives to the Mayoress after all? Was it a mistake to even consider responding to her texts? Was it her fault, ultimately, that she was no longer a fugitive? There were no answers, for the moment. In the long moment of her distress, only silence...and the muted, droning buzz of the light above her...filled her ears. Five minutes later, the single door leading into the room opened. Tamara figured that this would be Julia Stroud, and she would need to endure a bit of self-satisfied gloating over how easy it was to take the plus-sized secretary back. But the shapely, fashionably-dressed woman turned out to be someone Tamara thought she would never see again. As a Cheshire Cat's grin formed on her puffy lips, Tamara's visitor slowly approached her. "Good morning..." she purred. "...slut." There was no doubt as to where Tamara was now. Just as she had suspected, she had been brought back to Bullchester. Even worse, she figured she would now be back in the lap of the beast who had made her female in the first place. Who had cast her terribly alluring spell upon Tamara while riding a bus into the city for the first time as the young man he used to be. She just stared at Rita Noble in horror as the debutante approached, stopping right by her bedside. The grin remained on her face as she placed a hand upon the large dome of flesh that was Tamara's tummy. "Bearing a rather large burden, I see. I wonder how many children you will be expecting. Three? Five? Maybe more than that?" Tamara closed her eyes, trying not to look too distressed. She refused to cry in front of this woman. She squinted her eyes shut in the effort. "Now, now...don't be upset, slut." Rita moved her hand from Tamara's gut to the former boy's hair, stroking it gently. "This is the miracle of life, after all. Once you give birth, you can truly know how it feels to be a woman. Your breasts will fill with milk, your belly will be flat again, and you can be twice the slut I had wanted you to be." She brought her face closer to Tamara's now. "Twice the slut I know you wanted to be." The scent of Rita's perfume was familiar. It was the same perfume she smelled back when she was Timothy Portnoy, on a bus heading into the Bullchester city limits. It still had that same intoxicating effect upon the former boy. Memories of how alluring she was flooded back to her, as if she were coming out of hiding for a delicious piece of cheese placed upon the lever of a mousetrap. Tamara just stared up at Rita as she trembled. As Maggie's counter- conditioning was clearly crumbling through her experiences with Julia, Tamara could not make up her mind whether to loathe...and hatefully spit upon...this grinning face, or somehow slide off the bed and drop to the floor so she could lovingly tend to her feet, as she used to do. "You missed me, didn't you, Tammy Porntoy?" Rita softly cooed. "I can see it in your eyes...and you've developed so wonderfully, since last I saw you." She brought her lips closer to Tamara's now, speaking very softly. "I've missed you too, you know. So much, you make me feel..." Rita then pressed her lips against Tamara's, passionately kissing her. The former boy could not help but yield to her own inescapable want for this as she moaned. They continued kissing each other very deeply for almost five long minutes. One of Rita's hands then went to one of Tamara's large breasts and she began rubbing at it as she tenderly spoke into the former boy's ear. "You can't escape me. Not for long. You always knew this, didn't you? You are bound to me. I made you what you are. What you'll always be, for the rest of your life. No matter how long you go away, you'll always come back to me in the end. Your body...your mind...it craves my presence. Always. I am far more of a mother to you than your real one ever was." This last statement broke Tamara out of her reverie, and she turned her head to glare at the debutante. "What the fuck did you just say?" Rita's expression, however, did not change. She still grinned. "What did I say? I said..." She brought her face close to Tamara's again, looking deeply into her eyes. "...proxy." The word sounded familiar to Tamara, but it also had the effect of making her far less upset at the very sight of the debutante. Her glare suddenly softened, replaced by a look of sudden confusion. Rita giggled when she saw this reaction. "You were so innocent-looking on that bus. Like a newborn baby. Celeste wanted your mom, and she wanted her to forget that she ever had any children, which left the question of what to do with you. The second I saw your photo image, I knew I had to have you, and that was what drew me to you. Even if I didn't meet you on that bus, I would have found you anyway. Fate brought us together, slut...and so I decided to bind you to me not only in body, but in mind as well. As if I had created you from my own womb." Tamara's voice sounded distressed now. "Wh-what are you talking about??" Rita grinned. "Say my name." The former boy tried, but...her lips could not form the words. A much different word...a single word...was emerging from her lips, much to her shock. "Mmmm...mmmommm? Mm-mom??" The wicked debutante giggled insidiously. "Good girl. Good slut. That was going to be my little surprise to you once Ruth Portnoy accepted her new life. So that you and I would be together, always. It was either that, or I would have had you just call me Madame for the rest of your sex-starved life." Tamara shook her head. "No...no! Y-you're not my mother...m-mom!" "Then why did you just call me your mother, dear?" Rita moved in to once again plant a deep kiss on Tamara's lips before pulling away. "You'll get used to it, slut." She then clacked her heels back towards the door. "I'm going to work. I'll see you later...daughter dear." With a wink and another insidious giggle, Rita shut the door behind her. Tamara's hands went to her head, rubbing distressfully at it, and they then went to the huge burden at her grossly-enlarged tummy. One thing she found curious, during that whole exchange, was that in all that time since waking up, she would expect some kind of activity from what looked like a fully-grown fetus. Tamara would feel a kick of some kind. Some indication that she was close to delivering her burdens. But there was no such activity. In the two quiet hours that followed, Tamara was not approached by anyone. She had hoped, in that time, that Maggie would somehow bust her way into wherever she was, and raise hell to reach her, and pull her out of this predicament. Somehow. That notion, however, remained nothing more than a wild fantasy. She tried speaking the name 'Rita Noble' once again, but all that came out was "...mmom...mom..." Tamara sighed helplessly, once again trying not to cry. A part of her wondered, however, in all that quiet time. Was that so bad? Her real mom was safe, and presumably far away from the Cresswell ladies, and the conspiratorial business. Tamara remembered observing to herself that she didn't care what happened to her. Whether she became a paralegal under Larry Hanel, or a sex-hungry slut under Rita Noble, no longer mattered much to her. She had unconsciously decided to more or less go with whatever fate had in store for her. But the notion of Rita Noble being her new 'mother'... Placing her hands upon her grossly-enlarged tummy, all Tamara could do was to continue lying in her bed, wondering in her tortured mind what kind of bizarre life the Cresswell ladies had in store for her, now that she was... ...back home. Home in Bullchester, where she truly belonged. With her beloved mother, who she now realized she had missed so much. How silly it was for her to run away...no! There was a reason for... ...what kind of names should she give her children, she found herself thinking? Maybe she could ask Aunt Celeste sometime... * * * When Ron Bailey rose from his sleep, he was soaked in his own sweat, and he was panting heavily. His mind also felt as if it had been...softened, somehow. Looking down at himself, he noticed that his nightclothes...which were dampened by his own sweat...now looked a bit loose on him. His physique had also become noticeably slimmer. His hair felt a bit weird as well. He usually had it cut close to the skin of his head in a "buzz" cut. Such was the way it looked yesterday, when he went to bed. This morning, it was...longer. Practically a mullet. The cool climate within Ron's room forced him to shiver in his damp nightwear. This was not good! Ron had Football practice. He hoped this was just a touch of the Flu. It was Winter, after all, and it was certainly the kind of season for such ailments. Given the way he was feeling...and looking...right now, he was certainly in no shape to be tackled, much less throw a football around. His body perpetually shaked as he slipped off the bed and got to his feet. He had to change out of these damp clothes. Stepping over to his dresser, he began to pull off his soaked white T-Shirt... ...but when the fabric of his shirt rubbed against his nipples, a pleasurably intense sensation filled his body. He let out a quiet moan in a voice that was noticeably higher than he remembered hearing whenever he spoke. Looking down at his chest, he saw that his normally flat chest had split into two puffy bumps. The areolae around his nipples looked a little larger, as did the nipples themselves. The hair on his chest now seemed a bit sparse as well. Bringing his hands up, he gave his nipples another curious rub, which provoked another sharp gasp from the strong sensation that caused him to shudder. Rubbing them a little more forced him down onto his knees as he began panting heavily. Sharp, ecstatic sensations filled his body. Losing himself in this lingering cataract of pleasure for nearly an hour, Ron let out a long yawn. Slowly returning to his bed, he simply laid upon his back, staring up at the ceiling, and relaxed himself. He couldn't help, however, but to return his hands to the nipples topping the small bumps on his chest, panting heavily as he rubbed them some more. As he laid in his bed, which was now a little damp from the sweat it absorbed off his body during the night, he passionately writhed. Pausing for a moment to relax, he fell asleep. The next thing he knew, his shoulder was being roughly shaken. He also heard his father's voice shouting down to him. "Elway!! Hey! ELWAY!!" Such was the name Ron's father, Carl, had flatteringly given him, which was a reference to Football player John Elway. "Hey! Get up! You feelin' OK, champ? You don't look so good." Carl then reached down to pick up a dampened portion of his nightclothes. "Why is this so wet?" He placed a hand to Ron's forehead. It felt warm, but not so warm as to give Carl the impression that his son was running a fever. Ron looked over to his alarm clock to look at the time. He had slept through the alarm, which usually had no problems waking him up, by a good two hours! Still, Ron didn't feel feverish at all. In fact, he felt surprisingly energetic. Like he had completely satisfied the requisite sleeping hours and was ready for a full day of activity. His body still looked mildly effeminate, but he was no longer covered in sweat. Carl just stood there, with his arms crossed in front of him, waiting for him to acknowledge that he was even there. "So? What's the story, Elway? Are you sick, or what?" He then reached over to run his fingers through his son's hair. "And how come your..." Ron's hand intercepted his father's, however, grabbing it by the wrist before a single finger touched his longer hair. Carl blinked, his eyes widening at the sudden buzz in his head. The older man's thoughts were now a disjointed jumble as Ron's eyes found his. "No, no. Dad...don't touch me," Ron began, his voice a touch softer in tone. "Just...leave me alone. I'm fine. I'm not...I don't have a fever, I see what's happening to me, but...I'm fine. I don't need help. Please, just...just leave me alone. Go to work, do whatever it is you do. You and mom. Just leave me be." Carl, strangely, felt the need to comply with his son's instructions. The jumbling of his thoughts in his head left him susceptible to Ron's suggestions, and after a moment of confusion, Carl nodded slowly. "Okay...okay," Carl slowly responded. "Y-you're fine. You...don't need help. Right." Ron released his arm, and it dropped back to Carl's side. Shaking his head to come out of his unexplained daze, his eyes found his son's. "I...I've gotta...go to work now. I'll see you later." Once Carl had left, Ron swung his slimmer legs over the edge of the bed and just sighed, trying to comprehend what had happened to him. He looked at his hands. They looked a little slimmer, and the skin looked a bit more pale. The hair on his arms had apparently receded a little, too. The ringtone on his cell phone was the next thing that interrupted the long and idle silence that followed. Pulling it off his dresser and detaching it from the recharging cord, he saw that it was Howard Venis. "Hey, Ron...are you okay?" The younger man sounded worried. "Mrs. Calder sprang a pop quiz on us today. She mentioned something about threatening your scholarship when she saw that you were absent. Are you sick? I told Mrs. Calder I'd find out what was up with you." "Yeah, I...I'm fine," Ron replied. "Are you sure?" Howard asked. "You sound kinda strange." "Yeah. I...I just...slept through my alarm clock today. I...couldn't sleep. Bad night." Ron answered. "Could you...could you come by after school today? I'd like to see you." "Don't you have practice today?" "Yeah, about that...could you be a dear and let the Coach know I won't be able to make it today before you leave school?" Ron asked, suddenly feeling...oddly flirty. "Then you can come by my place and hang out for a while." After a brief moment of silence, Ron got his answer. "Sure, Ron. I'll see you later then." Ending the call, Ron slid himself back on the bed and began to twiddle with his nipples again, savoring the pleasure they were giving him. In his mind, he began to think about Howard, the boy who he had always defended from the bullying of others. He hated that anyone should have to go through torment for the apparent crime of wanting to do well in school. As Carl had raised his son to develop such altruistic habits, Ron tried to be there as often as he could whenever Howard was approached by tormenting students. He found himself thinking how sweet a kid Howard was. He wanted to be around him more, although he also found himself thinking that for all the times he stood up for Howard, the younger boy had yet to return the favor. For the rest of the morning, Ron began to wonder how this sweet kid could compensate him for all the protection Ron had generously provided him with. * * * Maggie had Marion Briggs on a secure video link on her laptop. They both knew that doing video chat through the Speakabout app was out of the question, due to its Cresswell financing. Maggie wasn't in the best of moods after having discovered that Tamara was gone, but Marion had specified how important this particular conversation was. She needed to share her findings with Maggie. "The woman I saw in the club, as you might expect, wasn't always one," Marion began. Maggie's darkened expression did not change. "Does the word 'duh' mean anything to you?" "Keep listening," Marion advised. "You need to know who this person is...or rather, who this person was." After a moment, Marion brought up a file which contained a photo of a young man, smiling pleasantly and with geekish looks. The name on the file read Dennis Blake. Marion then brought up a smartphone picture she had acquired of Debby Bliss prior to leaving the club, and the picture image was moved until it was right beside the male face. Maggie nodded slowly. "So that's what happened to you." "She was right up on me, Maggs," Marion continued. "If I had not seen the bulge at her crotch, I would have never guessed that she had once been male. I know you told me that this science was radical, but...Jesus. If this ever got out of Bullchester..." "...it would certainly create a stir, that's for sure," Maggie mused. "Now you know why I need to stay here. If there's no one like me and Larry in this town, they'll just keep expanding their borders like a viral contagion. If their conspiratorial shit goes beyond the suburbs, we're looking at the potential for a gender war." "Knowing you, your concern is...kinda surprising." Marion remarked. "Checks and balances, Agent Briggs," Maggie responded. "I honestly wouldn't mind seeing the male ego in Bullchester get smacked down some for as long as it stays in Bullchester. If any of the feminizing agents go anywhere outside of the city, and the media gets wind of it, that's when the real nightmare begins." "So how do you think Washington should respond?" Marion inquired. "Tariffs on suspect substances from Loris?" "That might be a good start," Maggie replied. "Maybe even add them to the contraband list. Remember what I said about the Butterfly Salon, too. If there's any serious talk of franchising coming out of Loris, you should interpret that as an act of war." "Right up there with having a Cresswell advocate in D.C.," Marion mused. "Part of the reason I'm keeping an eye on Larry." Maggie noted. "If there was ever a potential target for getting someone to represent Bullchester and Cresswell in the Senate..." Maggie felt a buzz at her hip. She pulled her smartphone. "...hang on a sec, Marion." It was a series of texts, and it was from Tamara's phone. I know where Tamara is. We need to talk. I'm on YOUR side in this. Remember that. - The Blond Nurse Maggie's eyes widened. As the texts were fresh ones, she immediately began typing out a response. EEEH! You don't get to flash a text like that and go away, blondie. You said 'nurse'. Am I to assume Tamara's in a hospital? Marion's voice could be heard as she typed. "Maggs? What's going..." Maggie's voice was sharp and firm in her response. "QUIET." After a good five minutes, an indicator of an incoming text followed. Worse. They put her in the Fertility Clinic. Maggie's eyes closed, and her head drooped down. She knew why they put her there, too. It was obvious. They were setting up a trap. They wanted Maggie back in Bullchester. In that moment, she wanted very much to switch places with Tamara. She didn't care if they stuffed her gut up with fetuses. That thought filled her with dread over what they might have done with Tamara. Did they... They're making her think she's pregnant. Her gut is obscenely big...but it's a trick. Maggie's eyes widened upon seeing this text. I don't quite know the dynamics of it, but my guess is that they've injected some kind of inert matter into her womb. A lot of it, obviously...but I was able to confirm that it can be dissolved with a counter-agent. I know you work alone...but if you want to get Tamara out of this, you need me. Don't bullshit me otherwise. Yes? Or no? Maggie stared thoughtfully at the smartphone screen for a long moment. Her right hand instinctively reached for the power button of her laptop, and she held it down until the portable computer went black. She then brought the screen down. Maggie...Rita paid her a visit. I can help you cleanse her influence from Tamara's mind. You know your counter- conditioning won't work. Barely containing her rising fury, Maggie finally typed in another response. Surrender your name. I don't like working with ghosts. And you don't get to bullshit me on this one. Another long moment passed. Tick tock, blondie. Maggie could practically sense the smirk coming from her unseen whistleblower. Finally, Maggie got her response, cryptic as it was. Think of this as your...grace period. That's all you're getting. Now...yes, no, or do we wait for someone to notice me texting a known 'devil'? As much as she wanted to know a little more about her mysterious benefactor, there was only one way for this to go forward without losing Tamara. Yes. But you get to play messenger. You get to spread the word to all my precious Cresswell fans. Maggie let another quiet moment...a shorter one, this time...go by before the response came. I'm waiting. Maggie smiled, and began typing. Tell them the devil is coming back to Bullchester. Tomorrow. As she waited for some kind of confirmation, Maggie followed this message with what would be her last text of the impromptu conversation. Let Celeste's errand boy, Xavier, know he's about to bleed, too. Her mysterious benefactor also sent one last text before the conversation ended. Will do. * * * A very attractive and generously-chested woman named Barbara Walsh...who was dressed in the same gray uniform the other female staff at the clinic wore...flashed a gentle smile as she came into Tamara's room. She went through a routine of a blood draw, and then a blood pressure test, before placing her hand upon Tamara's bulging stomach. "How are we feeling today?" Barbara asked, as pleasantly as she could, as she began her routine. "Full," Tamara wearily replied. Barbara knew the truth, but was of course advised to maintain the illusion at all costs. She didn't speak up again until after the blood pressure test was done. "I suppose having more than one fetus in there..." She poked at Tamara's tummy. "...will do that to you." A couple of nurses then came into the room with a wheelchair, which had obviously been modified to be able to handle Tamara's mass. Tamara frowned in her confusion. "Am I going somewhere?" Barbara joined the nurses in the effort to shift Tamara from the bed to the wheelchair. Once she was secure in the seat, Barbara gave her answer with a pleasant smile. "You have a visitor today. Our instructions are for us to take you to her. Just sit back and enjoy the ride, dear." While the nurses returned to other duties, Barbara went behind the wheelchair and began pushing it forward, taking it out of Tamara's room and into the halls of the Fertility Clinic. The sounds of babies crying were frequent as Tamara went through the halls, and the sights of women with engorged guts...some not as big as Tamara's, others a touch larger...were common as nurses and doctors tended to them. The former boy also noticed that some of the patients...those who were stark naked...had considerably diminished penises. They rolled into an elevator, and Barbara pushed the button indicative of the building's top floor. "Who wants to see me?" Tamara asked, obviously wondering if it was her mother. Perhaps she wanted private time with her? But Barbara shrugged. "Don't know. They just told me 'take her to such-and-such room and knock on a door, then leave'. I'll be right outside, though, so...if you feel any contractions, I'll rush right in." After another moment of silence, the elevator chimed a single tone before the doors parted. The halls of this floor were a more silent one as Barbara rolled the wheelchair to a room that was three doors down from the elevator. She stopped to procure a key, and then unlocked the door, turning the lights on before returning to wheel Tamara into it. The room beyond the door looked like a waiting area. Several chairs and tables were arranged in the manner of a caf?', with only one chair set apart from the rest. This looked a little more like a recliner than a typical seat. Barbara rolled Tamara to face the front of this particular chair. The plus-sized secretary figured that there would be see-through windows for people to look into the room as they passed. For whatever reason, there were no windows at all. There was a flatscreen television in the room, but it had been turned off. What's more, there was no one in the room at all. Just Barbara, Tamara, and whoever it was that was obviously waiting behind the only other door in the room aside from the one they had entered. Once Tamara was in her place, Barbara flashed her pleasant smile. "Now I know your burden may make your stay in that chair a little uncomfortable. Try not to move around too much. As I said, I'll be right outside in case you feel anything I should know about." Barbara then went to the closed door and knocked twice. Flashing another pleasant smile...and a wave...to Tamara, she went over to the opposite door and disappeared behind it. Tamara then heard the sound of a lock being engaged at that door. A few seconds later, the door Barbara had knocked on finally opened, and in walked a dark-haired woman wearing a gray, white-pinstriped pantsuit over a white blouse. She looked slim, and her full head of hair was arranged in a somewhat oriental fashion. As Tamara expected, she went right for the recliner, and settled into it. The woman's eyes never left Tamara's. "Good morning, Tammy," her husky voice began. "My name is Agatha." Tamara remained silent, staring back at her neutral-faced visitor. The former boy surmised that despite her appearance, Agatha might actually be older than she looked, given the sound of her voice. "So..." A slight smile crept onto Agatha's lips. "...how's mom?" Tamara closed her eyes. She didn't want to answer that. After Rita had unlocked a surge of triggered mental reprogramming, she had become a bit hazy as to who her mom was. "In case you're wondering, yes. We're using you as bait." Agatha explained. "It seems you've made a really dangerous friend when you came here, Mr. Portnoy. Our actual interest was in your mom. Your birth mother, that is. Ruth would have freed up Celeste from her duties at the Butterfly Salon, but...thanks to your feisty new bestie, Ruth is lost to us." "And me?" Tamara asked. "Well...let's face it, kid. You're the son of a man with a very sordid and detestable past." Agatha answered. "More often than not, we figured his offspring would turn out no different from him in time. Maggie seems to think you were an exception, but...seeing as how he crossed Rita Noble at a young age, she became very determined to take her long-dormant opportunity for revenge out on you." "I was nothing like my dad," Tamara angrily remarked. "Let's also face facts, Tammy." Agatha leaned in towards her wheelchair-bound companion. "I'm told that, aside from your initial encounter with Rita Noble, you were given several opportunities to back out of the offers Rita was giving you. Were you not the one who voluntarily re-opened a dialogue with her after Maggie 'rescued' you from Rita's effort to bring you into the Salon?" Tamara lowered her head. "I...I wanted to thank her." "For providing the job you currently hold, yes?" Agatha noted. "As far as I can see, it is you who owes Rita Noble a great deal since coming into Bullchester. Were it not for her, you would be jobless, and penniless." "You would have gotten to me anyway," Tamara observed. "If you wanted...i-if you...wanted..." Again, the confusion manifested as to who her mom truly was. Agatha smirked. "If we...wanted Ruth? Oh yes, I imagine Rita would have found some other way of getting to you, but what can I say?" The older woman shrugged. "She called dibs on you. We had to do something with you. In fact, I admit that I was a touch curious as to how you would fare as one of my little playthings." "Just how far are you gonna go with this pro-female bullshit of yours?" Tamara suddenly inquired. "Are you pushing some world-conquest plan or something?" Agatha's expression became a little more menacing now. "I wonder if you've been to school long enough to know just how much of the world's problems came about through men, Miss Porntoy. Men like your father. Power-hungry, woman-abusing bastards who like nothing better than to show off their misogynism." "And you're going to teach everyone differently?" Tamara surmised aloud. "You're going to make it a crime to be born a man?" "We're giving them just what they want, dear," Agatha answered. "They always want tits and ass. Well, fine. We'll give them tits and ass...and a need for them to constantly show their appreciation to us for it." "Even those who don't deserve it??" Tamara incredulously shot back. Agatha sighed aloud as she rose from the recliner. "I fail to see why you need to make this sound like we're doing something evil, Tammy. Let me ask you this, and you had better answer this honestly. Has anyone been killed? Has anyone died? Anyone who crossed us? Anyone who we feel should be given the honor to join those of the fair sex through our work?" Agatha slowly stepped towards Tamara as she spoke. She then straddled the wheelchair's naked occupant and settled on her lap, facing her as Agatha's chilly hands settled upon the former boy's breasts. "We never once gave you anything remotely resembling pain, Tammy. We gave you pleasure." Agatha now began rubbing firmly at Tamara's breasts as she spoke, causing the plus-sized secretary to moan and pant. "I grant you that your friend made you...a little more than what we would have preferred you to be, but...you still can't say that we put you through anything that threatened your life in any way, can you? You're a woman now. A full woman. You're one of us. You have nothing to worry about. In fact, I think it's fair to say that you've more or less passed your trials, Miss Porntoy. Why not just accept the life we wanted for you? A life of pleasure. Passion. Freedom. Humility. You were born of a bad seed. Don't you feel you should atone for your late father's sins? Didn't you like wearing all those skin-tight outfits Rita bought for you?" "P-please...Agatha..." Tamara desperately needed to hold to her sanity, which she knew was beginning to fade. "...ss- stop...rub...rubbing meeee..." Agatha had a sick grin on her face now as she continued rubbing. "Oh, I know you don't mean that, slut!" And that was when Tamara finally snapped, pouring all her rage into one very loud outburst, right into Agatha's face, which practically forced the older woman off of her lap, and onto the floor. "FUCK YOU!!" Agatha had an unpleasant look on her face as she rose up from the floor. "Take a good look at me, bitch!!" Tamara roared. "Do I look like I'm in any condition to fuck someone's brains out for you?? YOU made me this way!! You and your sick friends!! I didn't ASK to get knocked up, you...you feminazi twat!!" She tried to fight back tears as she continued to holler. "You wanna know the difference between you and Maggie?? MAGGIE LOVES ME!! YOU DON'T!! It's LOVE, you fucking witch!! I wonder if you even know what that concept really MEANS anymore!!" Agatha continued glaring at Tamara for another long and tense moment. Tamara's own rage was just as intense, meeting the older woman's gaze in kind without so much as a single flinch. Although in that moment, Agatha was actually trying to think of the right words to say in response to the vicious and...admittedly impressive outburst. This was no bimbo mind. Not at all the sex-crazed slut Rita wanted. In fact, she saw a lot of Maggie in this woman that had once been a timid young boy. "Remember what I told you earlier?" Agatha smirked now as she began to pace around the wheelchair. "You're bait. You know why? Because while Rita Noble wants you, I want Maggie. There's more to her that you just don't know. More potential for her to be very, very important to me, and in ways you do not have the right to know." Agatha's own anger was rising now as she stopped in front of the wheelchair. Her tone became more vicious as she glared down at Tamara. "Now you can claim all the illusions of lame duck 'love' you want when it comes to Mary Margaret Katzhoff, but no matter how you feel about her, she is ours...JUST LIKE YOU!!" Tamara's expression didn't change. She was confident that her outburst had touched a nerve in this woman, otherwise she wouldn't have exploded with anger. "Although unlike you..." Agatha continued. "...she was BORN A FEMALE!!" Another long and tense moment passed between them as their tempers slowly simmered. The next revelation to come out of Agatha's mouth, however, was a bit of a shock. Tamara didn't expect it at all. "You're not even pregnant!" Agatha added. "We stuffed you up with enough mass to make you think we knocked you up! Well, guess what? Grace tells me that Maggie is on her way back home, and once we have her? I sure as fuck am not going to let her go! Not for you, or anyone else!" She grabbed the armrests of the wheelchair and brought her angry face very close to Tamara's as she growled. "And once we dissolve that bulge in your tummy, you will go back to Rita Noble, my dear, and you will become the slut she wants you to be...because I always get what I want!!" Pushing the wheelchair away from her, Agatha hurried towards the entrance door with angry steps, banging on the door to get Barbara's attention. Once Barbara had the door open, Agatha stormed out of the room without saying a single word. Tamara was still in silent shock over the revelation. The bulge was a lie, and Maggie apparently fell for it. Barbara was tempted to ask about what had happened, but upon seeing Tamara's mystified expression, she decided to simply wheel the plus- sized secretary back to her room. It was just a matter of waiting to see what was going to happen next.