Cat And Mouse - A Cresswell Industries Story Pt 19 And Epilogue free porn video

XIX: By The Grace And The Goddess The moment Xavier had been informed by one of his contacts...Sgt. Connor Niehaus, another soldier who was a part of the Nightshifters unit...of the confirmed location of a woman fitting Maggie's exact description, he was quick to drop everything and acquire a large black case. This was all he took with him as he gunned the engine and raced out to the coordinates Connor gave him. He hoped to be able to intercept...and deal with...Maggie before she did any more damage to Celeste's plans. An hour later, he parked a block away from the locale and grabbed the handle of the black case, hurrying over to the Hotel that corresponded with the coordinates. Upon stepping in, he went right to the elevator, making sure to access one that was unoccupied. Connor gave him the room number, so he knew exactly where to go. Hurrying out of the elevator, he ducked into an open room where a Hotel housekeeper was busy cleaning a vacated room. With a single blow to the back of the woman's head as she was rolling a vacuum along the rug, she dropped to the ground, unconscious. Xavier worked quickly, placing the case on the bed and opening it to reveal the pieces of a silencer-fitted machine gun. He had been trained to put this weapon together in just under five minutes, fastening the components together firmly. Once the Nightshifter slapped a fresh round of ammunition in the chamber, he left the room, deliberately keeping the vacuum on to help mask the shots, and proceeded across the hall to Maggie's room. To Xavier's surprise, Maggie's room was open. Moving in as quietly as he could, his weapon poised to shoot, he saw someone sitting right by the large sliding door leading out onto the room's balcony. The person's head was resting to one side, and his wrists looked like they were bound together. But this person looked far too well-built to be Maggie. In fact, it looked more like... A line of drool could be seen coming down the corner of the mouth of Connor Niehaus. He was in his underwear, and he was also badly bruised and bloodied. Beaten to within an inch of his life, it seemed. And, pinned to his chest, was a note. OOPS. I LIED. I'M ALREADY IN BULLCHESTER. HELP ME! I'M DYING! Xavier was quick to check the man, who wasn't moving. He figured Niehaus was dead. But he heard a slow, ragged breath. The heartbeat was faint, but evident. Niehaus became his first priority as he carried him out. He didn't bother to disassemble the weapon and put it back in the case, He just tossed it into the insulated case and snapped it shut, carrying the case in one hand and Niehaus over his right shoulder. Connor was a well-built man, too. The burden was considerable as he entered the elevator. Just in time, too, as a scream from a curious hall wanderer had cut loose just as the doors slid shut. Xavier ignored everyone in the building excitement of the lobby. Security people were on their way up, while Xavier slipped out of a rear entrance and headed right for his car. Depositing Niehaus in the back seat, he dropped the case in the foot space and entered the vehicle's driver side, firing up the engine and roaring out of his parking space before anyone could catch on to the suspicious man carrying the limp body and a suspect case. He could hear Niehaus continuing to struggle to breathe. Xavier figured that this was blunt force trauma to the chest. Maggie might have even cracked a few of this hardened soldier's ribs in the fight. According to Maggie's file, she was trained in Muay Thai Kickboxing. This was often considered the deadliest martial art in the world for its bone-crunching knee and elbow strikes. Xavier himself had a taste of her blows when she knocked him out prior to his encounter with Jemima Poulson. She was the furthest thing from a pushover. Niehaus was just as much of a badass, though. In his time with the Nightshifters, he had amassed a nice body count from all the Black Ops work their group had been through together. It took an arm wrestling match...and a follow-up, second-chance fistfight, which ended in a draw...for the two to become close friends. It was always Connor that covered Xavier, and vice versa, when they were in the thick of the firestorms of violence they had been involved in. Now, Connor was barely clinging to his life. Xavier hoped that he would not be too late to save him as he pulled into a parking spot near the first hospital he could find. Xavier carried him into the Emergency Room, handling whatever necessary formalities were required, monetary or otherwise, before heading back out to his car to begin the ride back to Bullchester. An angry look was on the face of the Nightshifter as he rolled onto the freeway. Once again, Mary Margaret Katzhoff had crossed the line. It was time for that bitch to bleed. * * * "A...a sssalon?" Waldo stammered as he stepped out of Celeste's car after it had parked outside of Rubie's Mall. "Wh...why would I...need to go t-to a place like that?" Waldo was clearly struggling with his building femininity, even with his being dressed up in male clothes. His voice already had a touch of feminine softness to it, and although his movements were a bit awkward, Celeste figured...or rather, hoped...the awkwardness would pass quickly. Celeste grabbed him by the arm and tugged Waldo along as he held to his glasses. "If you want to be my lab assistant, you need to be made sterile. I want you germ-free, girl. There's a machine that will do this, but it's in the Butterfly Salon." "But...d-don't they do hair in a Salo..." "Oh, shut up and quit dragging your feet!" Celeste growled. Not wanting to upset her benefactor, Waldo began to match her pace with Celeste as they made their way through the Mall until they reached the Salon the dominant woman had mentioned. "M-mmyyy..." Waldo stammered. "...s-ssuch a big place..." "Hello, Madame Celeste." Waldo gasped aloud, visibly startled at the sudden appearance of the large-chested and quite beautiful attendant who seemed to come out of nowhere. He pressed himself against Celeste, who just grinned at the attendant in response. "Everything is ready," the attendant reported, her gaze shifting to Waldo. "Is this...who is going to go in?" Celeste nodded. "Yes. You do have the machine set to 'sterile' mode, yes?" "Oh yes," the attendant replied. "The machine is all ready for your friend. Step this way, please?" Of course, both the attendant and Celeste knew no such setting actually existed on the machine. This was to be the next step in the amusingly gradual feminization of the 'lab assistant' Celeste had taken. Once the machine had done its job on Waldo, any visible traces of remaining maleness would be forever gone. There would, however, be a visible remnant of the young man he used to be between his legs. "Strip, dear," the attendant commanded. "It's necessary for you to be completely naked." Waldo nodded as he began undressing, unbuttoning his white dress shirt. "Of course." He loosened his pants now as he kept muttering. "Makes sense...yes...should be nothing on...I don't mind..." The attendant angled her head to Celeste with an incredulous expression. Celeste silently mouthed back the words 'don't ask' in response. Once his body was bare, the attendant led Waldo to the machine, which had the appearance of a tanning bed. Celeste was already tinkering with a nearby computerized readout for the sake of programming the genetic instructions she wanted to apply to the effeminate boy. Waldo was still mumbling to himself as he laid himself out upon the soft white cushion of the machine's bed space. When the attendant lowered the top portion of the machine down over Waldo, she walked back to the computer readouts, only to find Celeste expertly working at the panel. "Hmmm. This is a rare honor," the attendant mused. "Giving your friend a personal touch?" "I figured I'd show you lazy bitches how a pre-programmed body development subroutine is really done," Celeste answered, keeping her eyes on the computer screen as she worked. "I know you regularly shy away from such a complex procedure. I should have your machine training reinforced." A flash of light, and a low hum...like a loud electric lamp flaring to life...preceded a gentle hissing noise as the machine came to life. The muttering within the machine went silent as the process began. As Celeste waited, her peripheral vision caught sight of a very sour- looking Rita Noble wandering around the front lobby area of the Salon. Given the many shopping bags on her arm, it seemed like she had been on a bit of a spending spree within the mall. Celeste knew one of the reasons she did that was because she was upset about something. Lights within the machine faded now, and the attendant stepped over to lift the lid. When Waldo sat up, his breathing sounded softer, and much more feminine. His slim hands rubbed against the soft skin of his arm. Looking down at himself, he noticed that his nipples were a little more prominent and perky. The first words out of his mouth were soft and breathy. "Is it over? Am I...clean now?" Celeste smiled as she stepped slowly over to her much more effeminate- looking lab assistant. "Yes, Walda. Go ahead and put your clothes back on. I need to step away for a moment." The dark-haired woman hoped that this would not be some petty and insignificant matter, but given recent events involving Maggie and Tammy, she felt she had to at least check, and find out firsthand. "Are you here for a touch-up, Miss?" Celeste mused, attempting levity. Rita turned to her slowly. A displeased look was on her face. Celeste raised an eyebrow. "Or did you just come here to sulk, and waste my time?" "She blew it," Rita finally replied. "Of all people, SHE blew the illusion I was trying to establish for Tammy!" Celeste frowned. "Who are we talking about?" "Agatha," Rita responded, widening Celeste's eyes at the mention of the name. "She paid Tammy a surprise visit. According to Barbara Walsh, who was waiting outside, the encounter turned into a shouting match. Before they were done, Agatha just went ahead and told Tammy that she wasn't actually carrying babies." Celeste sighed aloud. She had surmised that Rita taking Brianne would get her mind off of the business of making Tammy her personal slut. Obviously, that plan didn't work out so well. "The idea was to wait until Maggie was back in Bullchester before we dropped the bombshell!" Rita griped. "Then, we put Tammy to sleep, dissolve the mass in her gut, put her in her old slut clothes, and..." "Did you apply that extra stage of your conditioning process that was supposed to be a part of your 'grand plan'?" Celeste wondered aloud. "Did you use that trigger phrase yet?" It was now Rita's turn to sigh aloud as she hung her head low. "Yes. I know the idea for that was to wait until we had Ruth in place at the Butterfly Salon, but...but I missed Tammy. You have no idea how much it hurt me to find out that she was given a full sex change outside of Bullchester. I had such plans for that boy. I even bought a pair of earrings with my initials on them, so that everyone would know Tammy was mine." "Rita...given the fact that she became the secretary of an attorney that the Sisterhood looks very favorably upon, and a particularly good one at that..." Celeste thought hard on these words as she spoke them. She knew Rita would not want to hear them at all. "...you might actually want to lay off of Miss Portnoy. Especially if your efforts to get her back with you upsets Mr. Hanel." Sure enough, Rita's tone began to rise in anger. "No, no, NO! Tammy is MINE! I FOUND HER FIRST, Celeste!" she moved close to the dark-haired woman, speaking right in her face now. "I made her. I set the foundations for her femininity. ME!" Rita moved away, thinking aloud in her rising agitation. "She may not have a useless cock anymore, but...damn, if only I could...turn back time...! I might also remind you that she would not HAVE that job with Larry Hanel if it weren't for me!" "And...Brianne?" Celeste reminded. "Why don't you groom her in secretary skills so we can have her replace Tammy?" Rita shook her head. "She's my personal assistant. Very useful, too. She helped me establish that ad campaign which restored public faith in Loris International after that whole human trafficking scandal with Demetrius. I need her to stay with me." Celeste smirked. "And I thought the whole idea was for Brianne to get your mind off of Tammy. You even told me this." Rita shook her head once again. "No. I want her back," she began to backtrack away from Celeste. "And I WILL get her back. No matter what the Sisterhood thinks! I want my slut!!" Celeste watched Rita hurry away, bags in hand. Shaking her head, she turned back to look upon her new lab assistant... ...only to startle him as Walda moved to get the black-haired woman's attention. "Are we done here?" Walda gently asked, his voice still soft and breathy. Celeste nodded. "Yes. Let's go. You need to finish up your work on the formula I'm having you compose anyway." Walda nodded, following Celeste all the way to the car. The lab assistant felt very strange since being released from the machine. His mind felt even more soft and even more buttery than before. As timid as he had become since Celeste began infusing his body with feminizing agents, he felt even moreso now. Raising a hand to feel at his hair, he found that it felt a lot fuller. Celeste could hardly wait to see how Walda would respond to his own body slowly dissolving its masculinity in favor of a far more feminine shape. She also thought about calling Leonard Hardcastle down to her place for a follow-up visit, just to see how he would respond to Walda's...developments. * * * The ambience was definitely one of a showdown, at the stroke of 12 noon. History books dealing with Bullchester would afterwards refer to this moment as the "High Noon Incident". Maggie had contacted Jemima to have her pass on her exact location to Xavier. She didn't care this time that she was calling Julia Stroud's secretary on a line that was not secure. If the line was tapped, she felt ready and able to take on any additional belligerents who wanted to join the fray. Xavier found the locale to be a mid-level parking garage, near the heart of the city, and right next to the Loris International office building. Most who might be aware of the conspiracy would fear...or at the very least, be extremely nervous over...the concept of being that close to a place that was undeniably a hub for Sisterhood-related affairs. Maggie, however, thrived on such a rush. There was no better place she would rather be than in a space like this. It was the perfect place for a fight she had been looking forward to with a building sense of anticipation. All the teases...all the threats...all the sabotage...everything she had done since arriving in Bullchester was leading up to this. An altruistic devil, locking horns with the prize lackey of self- styled 'angels' with the blackest of hearts. Maggie counted off a sparse four cars...and a chained-up bicycle...in the low-ceiling area. Obstacles included granite lot dividers, and large round columns to keep the entire structure sturdy. She had no weapons. She needed none. She knew, however, that Xavier would be packing some kind of heat, if not steel, or perhaps both. He had to be that kind of soldier. Maggie kept her eyes on the only way into the parking garage. Other cars occasionally came into and out of the garage, but no incoming cars chose the space that would be occupied by Xavier and his raven- haired quarry. Five minutes past the hour, Xavier's vehicle quickly sped into the entrance, and a smile formed on her face as she cracked her knuckles. She could hear the car screech around the turns leading up to her floor. Maggie tensed as she spotted the black car speeding up and around. She figured he'd try for a cheap hit-and-run. She assumed a fighting stance, raising her fists up in front of her. But the car screeched to a halt, close to where she was standing. She saw the bald-headed soldier release himself from his seatbelt and hop out, his eyes locked on Maggie as he hurried towards her with balled fists. Maggie grinned, and raised an index finger to beckon him over, inviting the incoming combatant. A devastating array of roundhouse kicks opened his first assault, followed by several hard bare-knuckle strikes. The strikes Maggie blocked mildly stung. As the fighting continued, Xavier maneuvered Maggie over to his car as he attempted a grapple. This proved to be a mistake, and his error was answered with a bone-crunching knee shot to his chin. His teeth slammed together, loosening one of his incisors as he drifted upwards a bit, and then staggered backward. His jaw felt like it was on fire. The salty taste of his own blood was on his tongue now. Maggie figured out the fighting style Xavier was using by now. Tae Kwon Do. She wasn't surprised. The next angry flurry of blows from Xavier...from his feet as well as his fists...came surprisingly quick. Obviously, Xavier seemed to make good use of his rage. This time, Maggie saw an errant blow from one of her fists open up an opportunity for Xavier to send a fistful of his rage right to Maggie's skull. The shot connected, and a thin stream of blood fired forth in a drool from Maggie's mouth as her head jerked violently to the side. Grinning, the raven-haired combatant responded with a devastating maneuver she called the 'Flurry from Hell'. An elbow strike to the skull, followed by a series of spinning kicks to the head, effectively taking a step forward with each blow. Taking advantage of Xavier's next punch, which Maggie managed to dodge, her elbow strike easily connected. And so did the flurry of six solid head kicks that followed. Ordinarily, she would move in to finish off the dazed opponent. Maggie, however, leaped back, keeping her eyes on Xavier as he now struggled to try and get to his feet. Xavier felt like he had been hit, head-on, by an 18-Wheeler. He rapidly shook his head to try and regain his disoriented senses. Blood now flowed from his nose as well as his mouth. He struggled to withstand the terrible throbbing in his head. And yet, he was hungry for more as he angrily charged forward again, going from a failed roundhouse kick to a series of swift blows from the single leg, the final three of which connected with Maggie's head, leading to a stronger whip of his other leg which also found a mass of the woman's flesh. Maggie then caught sight of a flash of steel as she staggered back, clutching the side of her body painfully. Xavier had produced a hunting knife. As she was struggling to regain her senses in that moment, she was unable to completely avoid the first furious slashing arc, which nicked her below the eyebrow. He tried to follow up with a stab... ...but Maggie was able to trap the arm with her leg, grabbing Xavier's wrist with a tight grip. The hook of Maggie's foot was at the bald- headed soldier's neck, and she pressed down upon it while wrenching painfully at his knife arm. Such was the pressure she was applying that Xavier could not hold to the knife handle. Numbness began to set in on the hand, and it dropped down from his slackened grip. Another elbow shot connected to the bald man's head, giving Maggie time to scoop up the knife and toss it far from where the two combatants fought. As Xavier again struggled to regain his senses, Maggie paused a moment to wipe blood and sweat from her face as she continued to gaze down at the recovering soldier. "How much further do you wanna go, cueball?" Maggie mused, throwing her hands out to the sides. "I'm just getting started here." * * * Tamara had actually achieved some semblance of a nap back in her room at the Fertility Clinic when her attempt was suddenly interrupted by the appearance of two women. One was a blond nurse with a cap on her head and a white doctor's mask covering everything below the nose. The other, red-haired woman who had followed her in, she recognized to be Barbara Walsh. In one of her hands was a syringe. Once they were at Tamara's bedside, the blond nurse angled her head to the large-breasted midwife and pointed to the bedridden secretary's enlarged gut. "Do it," she commanded. Rubbing the area the red-haired midwife was to inject with an alcohol- treated cotton swab, Barbara carefully inserted the needle near the belly button of Tamara's gut and injected the counter-agent into her. Tamara could already feel activity begin in her gut with the commencement of a murmuring there, as if her belly was complaining for lack of food. The blond nurse then turned Barbara to face her. "How long?" she quietly asked. "A few hours," Barbara answered. The nurse nodded. "Get a wheelchair." As Barbara hurried back out of the room, the blond nurse brought her penetrating gaze a few inches away from Tamara's puzzled face. "Time to go," The masked nurse remarked. She then put a finger to Tamara's mouth, pressing it over her lips before the gut-heavy secretary could say anything. "Shhhh." Barbara and the mysterious blond nurse shifted Tamara once again to a waiting wheelchair, and once the nurse covered everything above her breastline with a large, thick blanket, the red-haired midwife began pushing Tamara towards an elevator. Tamara couldn't help but notice that the usually noisy hall area was a bit quiet now, as if everyone who was usually at their stations needed to take a lunch break, which made sense for the fact that it was 12 noon. Once the elevator doors slid shut, Tamara had to ask, angling her head towards the nurse. "Who are you?" The blond nurse's eyes angled to meet Tamara's. "You and I have mutual enemies." "And where are we going?" the plus-sized secretary asked next. The nurse's eyes stared forward, taking her eyes off Tamara. "You're going home." As much as this compelled Tamara to ask an obvious follow-up question for the sake of defining exactly what the nurse meant by 'home'...as in, home home? Back to where she had lived before she came to Bullchester? Back to the Hotel room she shared with Maggie? Or to the home she had moved into back when she was Timothy Portnoy? Or was she being taken home to her beloved mother's lavish residence, so she could once again bathe in orange citrus body wash, and perhaps talk about how she was going to get Larry Hanel in bed with her at long last? She had thought about how big his cock was. As an older man, it must be really big...she could hardly wait to feel him in her... The elevator stopped at the lobby, where Tamara was carefully rolled towards the clinic's parking lot. This would be the tricky part, as they could not be seen extracting her. Although a guard almost noticed them, he disengaged, and they were finally able to get Tamara to the passenger side of the blond nurse's car. As the mysterious nurse opened the door, Barbara tightened the blanket around Tamara, who shivered from the cold winter air. They both hefted Tamara's mass into the passenger side seat and once the wheelchair was empty, Barbara gave the masked blond woman a nod of acknowledgement before rolling the empty wheelchair back to the clinic. The blond woman, removing her face mask, hurried to the driver side seat and started up the car, carefully driving it out and away from the Cresswell Fertility Clinic. Tamara angled her head towards the passenger window as the car continued quietly along the Bullchester roads. She just stared outside, watching a surprisingly and beautifully rustic terrain pass before her eyes as she relaxed upon the comfy passenger seat, still warmly, snugly, and comfortably wrapped in the blanket Barbara had provided her with. The sights of the outside world streaming by the car began to look a bit familiar now. They passed Gourmandizer's now, which seemed to have picked up as a grocery shopping locale for Bullchester since last...he...was there. Memories of running into that woman who wanted her to be a part of the Sacred Feminine religion...Gemma, that was her name...and of the raven-haired firebrand who swooped in to spare Timothy the possibility of becoming swept up in a belief he had never heard of, nor cared to learn more about. Since becoming Tammy, however, a part of her couldn't help but become a bit curious about it. When the car finally began to slow down, and then maneuver into a parking space by a very familiar suburban home, Tamara finally understood what the blond nurse meant by 'going home'. Because she was now back at the house that she...and someone she could not remember for some strange reason...had moved to when they first came to Bullchester. Tamara's eyes widened upon comprehending where she now was. "Recognize the neighborhood, Tamara?" The blond woman's tone was a little more pleasant as she said this. She had a slight smile on her face upon seeing the former boy's reaction. "The house should be just the way you left it since the last time the both of you were here. It was never put up for sale," Killing the engine, the blond nurse emerged from the car and then opened the passenger side, giving Tamara a hand getting up. It became a little easier for her to maneuver now, seeing as how the counter-agent was doing its job, and the weight at her gut had visibly diminished some. Her blond benefactor hoped that this would jog Tamara's memories some. Even if it didn't, though, the woman knew that being in here would make the attempt to correct Tamara's mind all the easier. The suppressed memories had more of a chance to re-assert itself upon the former boy, and counteract the nefarious new conditioning Rita Noble had inflicted upon Tamara. "Why are we here?" Tamara asked as her blond companion helped her over to the front door. "Because this is where you lived, Tamara," the nurse answered. "If you fail to believe it now, I am convinced that it will come back to you. Just stay for a little while, at least." Tamara, however, stopped, holding her weight where she stood as the blond nurse turned to her. "I'm not taking another step until you at least tell me your name." A slight smile was now on the blond nurse's face as she removed her nurse's cap. "Grace." "Hello, Grace," A slight smile was on Tamara's lips now. "Why are you doing this?" Grace sighed, casting her eyes downward thoughtfully for a moment, and then brought her head up to match Tamara's gaze with the only answer that she could give for the moment. "It's complicated. Just...come inside with me." She held out a hand. "Please." Much as she felt she would rather be at her mom's more upscale and lavish...and much, much larger...residence, Tamara decided to humor Grace, and she held out her hand for the blond nurse to gently grab. Pulling out a key, she unlocked the front door, and they both walked in. Memories of having once been male began to manifest in the mind of Tamara Portnoy as she slowly stepped inside, her eyes wide as saucers as she scanned the place. She remembered living here with someone...was it an Aunt, perhaps? The memories were still hazy, and that was what was bothering her the most in being here. The haze bothered her more and more until she shut her eyes, trying to fight back tears. "I...I can't...I can't..." "Shhhh," Grace gently placed her hands on Tamara's shoulders. "Just relax. Come on. It's just the two of us in here," she led the plus- sized secretary over to the couch. "Here. Have a seat. Deep breaths, Tamara. Just free your mind of whatever's troubling you. Whatever it is that is making you upset right now. All gone, for the moment." Not wanting to upset Tamara any further, she produced two tear ducts from a pocket of her uniform and showed it to her. "These will give you a little pinch, but they're meant to help relax you. I promise, Tamara. Stay here for awhile and rest, and when you wake up, I'm fairly certain you're going to feel a whole lot better, and things will become much more clear to you. Trust me." "I...hardly know you," Tamara reasoned. "At all." Grace shrugged. "Would it be enough to say 'I won't hurt you'?" "No." Grace had to smirk upon hearing this. She decided to come clean. "Your psyche has been damaged, Tamara," she showed Tamara the pair of tear ducts again. "This should fix that." All Tamara did in response was to lower her head a bit. It was tough for Grace to figure out if the former boy had decided to trust her benefactor. Was she conflicted, Grace wondered? Worried about Maggie? After a long and uncertain moment, Grace reached over Tamara's shoulders to position the tear ducts where they needed to be injected, which was at two points at the back of the neck, aiming upward. Tamara made no sudden move to stop her. The tear ducts hit their marks, and the liquid inside of them were squeezed into Tamara's bloodstream. After a moment, the former boy's eyes began to flutter, and her head began to droop down. Grace gently took Tamara's head in her hands, and placed it back against the couch she was on. Her eyes were now wide open, and did not blink once. "Listen now, Tamara Portnoy," she began, speaking in a hypnotic tone. "Listen only to the sound of my voice. That's right. You hear nothing but my voice. Only my voice, which is so relaxing and comforting to your mind..." * * * Xavier remained weary and dazed as he finally got to his feet, and even then, he was struggling to stay upright as he shook his head in his attempt to regain his senses. Maggie's shots came from the hardest points of the human body, all of them conditioned to hit like blocks of pure granite whenever they connected. It was clear that Maggie wanted to give him all the chances in the world to prove himself as a trained soldier. His grasp of Tae Kwon Do was very good for the fact that he had gotten solid, well-placed blows in, and the impacts were considerably effective, judging by the blood and the bruises on her face. She knew the knife, on the other hand, was desperation. It wasn't a very wise move, and she had to transmit that to him. As the knife was no longer a factor, it didn't seem like Xavier had any other hidden weapons on him. The bald soldier, however, found it difficult to shake out of the haze that Maggie's Flurry from Hell had inflicted on his head. He dropped back to one knee. "She isn't worth this, Xavier," Maggie reasoned, crossing her arms in front of her chest as she looked down at him. "I don't care how badly you want to take me down." "Fuck yourself," Xavier hatefully hissed. "This isn't just about her! Connor Niehaus was my friend!" "Yeah, well...your friend tried to shadow me," Maggie countered. "Bad idea. So you left him to die, eh? Uh-huh. Some friend you are." "I took him to...to a hospital." Xavier maintained his glare. "He was barely breathing, you bitch." Maggie responded by producing her smartphone, and after tapping at the screen a few times, she positioned the smartphone against her ear, and waited. "Yes, hello. A friend of mine was brought into your hospital. The name is Connor Niehaus. I believe he's in the Emergency area. Can you give me an update on his condition? Yes, I'll wait. Thank you." Maggie kept the smartphone against her ear while maintaining her gaze upon Xavier. "If he's dead?" Xavier warned. "So are you." "And if he's alive, you get to walk away without me putting you in intensive care," Maggie shot back. "Agreed?" Knowing how bad Connor looked when he found him, Xavier seemed convinced that he was gone despite his shallow life signs. If so, he was prepared to die in the effort to avenge him, and save face with Celeste Richards in so doing. "All right," Xavier replied. The raven-haired woman arched an eyebrow. "Your word of honor, as a soldier? Or do I snap your neck when you make the mistake of jumping me when my back's turned?" "I promise," Xavier answered through gritted teeth. Maggie engaged the speakerphone option on her smartphone and held it out, turning the speaker's volume to its maximum level. After a tense minute of relative silence, the woman Maggie was speaking to came back on the line. "Hi, sorry to keep you waiting. Sergeant Niehaus is actually in recovery right now. He'll need to stay here a few days, but he should be fine. He was asking about a guy named 'Xavier'. We're guessing that was the name of the guy who brought him in last night." Maggie smiled as she brought the receiver back to her ear. "I'll make sure he's told. Thank you." Upon ending the call, she slowly approached the still-recovering Xavier. "You would have turned out just like him if you kept going, kiddo. Maybe even worse. Now I don't give a fuck what Celeste asks you to do for her. You lay so much as a fingerprint on Tamara Portnoy for any reason ever again, I'm going to find you again, and then shatter every goddamn bone in your body, and watch you die. You don't know what that kid has gone through, and I wouldn't care if you did. Never forget that I spared your life today, Nightshifter. Just like I spared the life of your Sergeant friend because there's a big difference between a devil like me, and a monster like Agatha." Xavier's head still throbbed terribly as he made it to his feet. He wanted to say something, but he couldn't. It was difficult for him to think clearly given the punishing blows his head barely endured. Without another glance to Mary Margaret Katzhoff, he got behind the wheel of his car and sped away, screeching around the turns until he roared out of the parking garage. Going back to her own car, wincing over her own stinging injuries and the soreness she had inherited from the fight, she saw a blank envelope beneath one of the windshield wipers. Opening it up, and pulling the single page within out of the envelope's pocket, she looked over the message. The roof of the Loris International building. Tomorrow morning. BE THERE. - A Maggie smirked, and shook her head, knowing full well who the 'A' was referring to. * * * When Tamara's eyes fluttered open, she felt refreshed, fully awake... ...and judging by her greatly-diminished, and no longer pregnant- looking gut, much more mobile. She was also wearing a one-piece gray dress. Scanning her surroundings, she found herself laying upon the couch in the Living Room of the house she and her mother...Ruth Elizabeth Portnoy...shared together when they first moved to Bullchester. Tamara's eyes widened in her amazement, as if she were looking at it all for the first time since the torrid circumstances brought about by the Cresswell women got her out of it, and made her and Maggie fugitives. She noticed her pocketbook on the nearby coffee table, which she didn't remember having with her during her time at the Fertility Clinic. Checking her wallet, she saw that everything was still there. Her money, her credit cards, everything. Tamara rose up, slipped her bare feet into the pair of feminine loafers she noticed beside the couch, and moved slowly as she continued re-acquainting herself with the house. She remembered seeing her mother lying on the couch when she came home...in her Timothy Portnoy days...and she was experiencing the afterglow of being at the notorious Butterfly Salon. This also reminded her of how Rita Noble came into their lives. Rita particularly lingered in Tamara's mind. A cross that the former boy was forced to bear. It was clear that no amount of conditioning could ever change that, or so Tamara had surmised. In a twisted way, she was practically her mother. Rita, however, could never be THE mother of the person Tamara used to be. That distinction rightfully belonged to Ruth Portnoy. Upon realizing this, Tamara smiled. The plus-sized secretary's next stop was the second floor, and the room Timothy Portnoy once occupied, It was here that Tamara saw a piece of that old life Rita had given him. An exceptionally valuable piece. The solid-gold locket, which apparently could have fetched Timothy a significant amount of money if he pawned it, as Rita had once suggested. As the locket was technically still hers, Tamara pocketed this locket, and continued to look around the room. The dresser drawers were empty, save for the drawer that was below the top one. A single, one-piece white dress was in there, and the scent of Rita's perfume lingered upon it. Picking up the dress and letting it unravel from its folded-up state, Tamara saw that this was the dress she tried on when she was at Rita's place. As the fabric was a stretchy one, Tamara figured it would still fit her, too, and that it would certainly look better on her now compared to when she had it on as Timothy. Particularly since she had a much bigger rack now. She knew that the house had a land-line phone in the house's first floor kitchen, and it was this phone which suddenly started ringing. Puzzled, Tamara descended the stairs. The phone kept ringing as Tamara warily approached it. She figured it was Rita, which would have explained the presence of the dress in the otherwise empty dresser drawer in her room. She felt feisty enough for a verbal spar, though. All she had to do was to confirm who it was. She picked up the receiver. "Hello?" "T-Tammy?" The voice on the other end sounded a little younger than Tamara was used to hearing, but she remembered that this woman had been to the Butterfly Salon. Tamara's eyes began to widen, and a lump began to form in her throat. "Jesus...is...is that you??" A grateful smile formed on Tamara's face as her eyes watered up. She hardly had her voice when she finally responded. "Hi, Mom." "Oh my God...OH MY GOD...!" It sounded like Ruth was on the verge of tears as well. "Look...I don't care about the circumstances...it's just...great to hear your voice again. How are you?" Tamara nodded. Her tears flowed freely as she spoke. "Fine. I...I'm doing good," she paused a moment to sniffle and wipe away the tears. "I'm...still working with Larry Hanel. Earning really good money, too." "Have you been living at the house all this time, dear?" Ruth asked, still fighting off the urge to weep openly. "Well, I..." She tried to figure out a way around explaining her being a fugitive for a time. "...I've been...getting out there. You know, getting a lay of the land. It led to some...unique experiences, but hey...the house is still here, just as we left it!" "I wish I could go back there, sweetie..." Ruth thoughtfully remarked. "...but they keep telling me that I can never go back, and they never tell me why. It's not fair!" This actually put a relieved smile on Tamara's lips, even if it provoked another tear for the side effect of what was essentially a witness-protection mandate. "It's for your own good, Mom. Trust me. I...I'm the only one between us that can be here right now." "Hmmm...and I suppose you will be able to keep up with the mortgage payments?" Ruth challenged, sounding a little bothered. Tamara quietly giggled at this, though. "I'll try, Mom." Ruth sighed thoughtfully. "Strange. I wanted to be the one to start a new life in a new town with my son and now, my son...or rather, my daughter...is inheriting that life." Tamara nodded, still smiling as she wiped away another tear. "I know." "Have you seen Rita, dear?" The smile on Tamara's face dissolved a little. "Yes. She...she's doing okay. Always busy, though. Always...busy." "Guess I'm...overdue to put in my resignation, eh?" Tamara heard Ruth giggling in her amusement over this attempt at levity. "I actually found a better job. I was told it was...safe...compared to working at Loris. Better money, too. So you say that you're earning good money with Larry? If it weren't for the scandals at Loris, I would have suggested what Rita herself talked about with me when we were chatting at Rubie's Mall: to get you in with her as a secretary. Would have given us a chance to be together more often." Tamara nodded. "You're safe now, Mom. That's all I ever cared about. Please stay where you are, and...let me stay here. Can I...can I ask where you are now?" She heard Ruth's voice speak away from the receiver, clearly asking 'can I tell her?' She received a murmuring of male voices in response. Ruth sighed before she spoke. "I can tell you what state I was moved to. Jeez...you'd think even on a secure line, I could talk freely. I...I'm in Kansas, dear." Tamara's eyes widened in disbelief. "Goddess...that's a real hop, skip, and a jump away from Bullchester!" "It sure is," Ruth replied. "It's...close to your Aunt Eunice, though, but she's talking about moving out and going abroad as well." Tamara raised an eyebrow. "Isn't she the one who made you..." "...a prude? Yes, I think it's safe to say she is, dear." They both shared a laugh over this. Her admittedly weird and questionably conservative Aunt, Eunice Hemingford, certainly had the kind of personality that would attract the attention of the Cresswell ladies, so she could not help but wonder if the reason for Eunice moving was because of a Cresswell-related job offer. She remembered a couple of occasions, during the couple of times where Aunt Eunice was called upon to babysit a younger Timothy, when Eunice punished little Timmy for an incident of naughtiness by having him wear a pink polka-dot skirt around the house. She even put him in women's makeup, as well. A couple of hours before Ruth and Brock came home, however, Eunice would wash off the makeup and take off the skirt, and then made little Timmy promise never to tell about what she had done to him. Tamara could hear a little more murmuring, which Ruth irritably acknowledged. "Honey...I have to go, but listen...it's great to hear your voice again. I honestly don't care what you are. Male, female, transgender, whatever. You're still family, dear. You always will be. Oh...and about the house? If anyone asks, it's yours from now on. Make yourself at home. Do whatever the hell you want with it, but just... try to keep something there to remember me by." The tears came again as Tamara smiled. "I love you, Mom." Ruth's voice sounded shaky. It seems she was speaking through tears as well. "I miss you so much, dear. I...I'm so proud of you for how far you've come." Tamara squinted her tear-soaked eyes shut and gritted her teeth in her effort to avoid a sobbing fit. She barely managed to squeak out, "Thank you..." Tamara heard the line click to silence...and in that moment, she wondered if that would be the last time she would ever hear from Ruth Portnoy. It was easier for the plus-sized woman to recover from her sobbing fit for the fact that Ruth was now safe. At the same time, she thought about taking time off from work so she could look for her Mom once she made it out to Kansas. Washing her tear-streaked face at the kitchen's sink, she took a deep breath, and smiled once more, looking around her. Tamara Portnoy now had a house all her own. It was just a matter of getting her clothes back over to the house, and into her room. Bullchester was her home now. A place that was both a blessing for how she ended up, and a curse for the powerful enemies she had made. She felt inclined to eat something, but sure enough, the refrigerator was sparsely-filled. Fortunately, Tamara remembered from a past conversation with Larry Hanel that a bus route within Bullchester stopped right outside Gourmandizer's. As there was still time left in the late afternoon, Tamara decided to do her first big grocery shopping trip. Once she got rid of all the food in the fridge that had gone stale, she went to grab a coat...one of Ruth's overcoats, which lingered in one of the closets...and stepped out to head for the nearby bus stop. Tamara warily kept her eyes on the front of the bus for the obvious reasons. It was on a bus, after all, that she had met Rita Porter. Porter? Tamara frowned for a moment. That didn't sound right. Wasn't it...Noble? Suddenly, Rita has two...last names? Tamara blinked in her surprise. Was this, perhaps, the name she had before she had a life in Cresswell? And how in the world did she suddenly become aware of this? The confusion almost made Tamara miss her stop, and she stepped off the bus to hurry over to the transfer point, where the bus to Gourmandizer's was just rolling in. Upon getting on this particular bus, one of the young men on the bus glanced at her...and then did a doubletake, his eyes widening. Flipping quickly through the pages of an independently-published fashion fringe magazine he had with him, he got a good look at the face of the busty pinup girl on the page, and then redirected his gaze to Tamara. They were one and the same. Fortunately for him, Tamara had chosen to sit alone. He had to go over, if only to be near those huge titties, and to undress the woman with his eyes at close range. "Hey, babe!" the young man began, grinning like a predator. He then brought up the page upon which Tamara was featured. "Is this you?" Tamara glanced at the ad, and then turned her head towards it. It was one of her curly-haired rockabilly photos from one of the shoots Maggie had arranged for her. The pose was particularly fetching, too. She wasn't surprised that it made this particular young horndog hard. For all Tamara had been through since arriving in Bullchester, however, she had to appreciate the adoration, even if it did come from a guy who thought he was all that and more, so to speak. It was one thing to have a guy panting over her. It was another thing entirely, though, for him to actually act on his impulses. As she had been trained in applying painful holds and joint locks by Maggie, she could certainly handle herself. For the moment, the kid seemed harmless. Tamara nodded, smiling. "Yeah...I remember when we did this." She looked at the wide-eyed boy with a flirtatious grin. "The wind was tickling my clitty that night." "Awwww, man! Shoulda had me there, man! I woulda warmed you back up in no time!" The young man crassly suggested. Yup. Tamara thought to herself. Time to wrap things up here. Fishing through her purse for the marker Maggie suggested she have in her purse in the event of situations just like this one, she pulled it out and uncapped it. Glancing at the young man, she noticed that he was definitely staring at her cleavage. He was practically transfixed. "Uhhh...hellooo-oo?" Tamara waved her free hand in front of his face. "My face is up here." "Yeah, but the milk is down there!" He laughed, a bit obnoxiously, at his own joke. "Okay, ground rule before I do this," Tamara warned. "If I'm gonna do this for you, the rude sexual innuendo has to stop. That kind of thing is dangerous around here, and I wouldn't want to see you get hurt." From the look on her face, the woman looked very serious, and the smile on the boy's face melted to a more serious one. "Okay, okay...I'm sorry. It's just...well, I've never seen a real live model before." Tamara arched an eyebrow. "There are fashion mags all over the place." "Yeah, but that's corporate shit," the young man responded. "I like mags like this one." Tamara smiled. "I like your thinking," Tamara then held the mag steady so she could begin writing. "Got a name, kiddo?" "Oh, it's Prentice," he replied. "Prentice Braithwaite." "Prentice. Gotcha." She knew what kind of message to write out, given the way Prentice was acting. There's more to a girl than tits and ass, kid! - TAMARA Prentice glanced at the message that was written out, and he smirked upon returning his gaze to Tamara, who shrugged. "Hey...just sayin'." She noted that she had some time left before the bus arrived at her stop. "So what do you do for a living, Prentice?" The mullet-haired boy shrugged. "Ehh, I just play games and hang out back home." "If magazines like that are your only real social education, you should get out more often, Prentice," Tamara reasoned. "Maybeeee...a summer camp, or something? Grow your hair out? Get a big bunch of curls, like what I'm wearing there? I bet you'd look nice with a mass of curls." When he laughed, he certainly sounded geekish. "Naaah..." He then flexed a generally adequate and visible muscle on his forearm. "...this is the only curling I wanna do." Tamara smirked. "Try Crochet instead. Does wonders for stress relief," she mused, remembering one of the 'punishments' her Aunt Eunice had inflicted upon her in her days as Timmy. Noticing that the bus was slowing towards her stop, Tamara rose up. "Gotta go, Prentice. Nice meeting you." "See you around, babe! Thanks for the autograph!" His eyes were wide in his lingering amazement as Tamara made her way towards the front of the bus. She could practically feel that his eyes were on her ass as she swayed towards the open door of the bus. Upon nearing Gourmandizer's, Tamara noticed, much to her surprise, that the girls representing the "Sisterhood of the Sacred Feminine" were still where they were when the plus-sized secretary first visited this place... ...as the boy she used to be. She remembered how she responded to it the first time. She...or rather, he...was hesitant to accept such a belief. Like Ruth, Timothy never really had much interest in religion. Tamara also remembered a redhead within the actual supermarket who roamed around, apparently looking for converts. Gemma. That was what her name was. She was the woman Maggie 'rescued' her from. Sure enough, there she was. Still looking for potential converts. A part of Tamara wondered what would have happened to her if she had allowed Gemma to bring her in as a potential convert. As Gemma's eyes fell upon Tamara, her curiosity for the religion became a little more evident. Flashing a smile, Gemma approached the plus-sized woman. "Hi!" the woman began, provoking Tamara's own sense of d?j? vu. "How are you this afternoon?" Tamara nodded in acknowledgement. "Uh...doing OK, thanks. Just...you know. Shopping." "Literally putting food on the table for mom?" the woman asked, the words sounding entirely familiar. Such were this woman's first words to him when they met that very first time. "I live alone," Tamara corrected. Gemma seemed to cozy up next to Tamara as she pushed her shopping cart, walking with Tamara as she held the plus-sized woman's arm gently. "Oh? Did something happen to her?" "No, she's fine. She's just...elsewhere. Long story." Tamara smiled gently. "I appreciate your concern, though." Gemma flashed a sweet smile. "Spiritual strength is so important in these uncertain times, my child. I'm Gemma Schultz." She offered a hand, which Tamara gently shook in greeting. So far, things were pleasant enough. "Tamara Portnoy." She found the scent of Gemma's perfume quite sweet. "Nice to meet you." Gemma slipped her fingers around to gently grasp at Tamara's hand. "Humor me for a moment, dear?" She then reached down to pull up Tamara's other hand. Straightening both hands out, Gemma pressed both hands together, and then began to slowly step back. "Hold your hands together like that for a moment, dearest Tamara." Inescapably curious, Tamara complied as Gemma kept her eyes on the former boy. The red-headed woman seemed to be looking at the plus- sized woman as if she were suddenly bathed in an immaculate light. Gemma gently placed her hands upon both of Tamara's cheeks, continuing to stare into the potential convert's eyes. Truly, there was something about Gemma's gaze that held her own as she spoke. "You...have been touched...by divinity, child." Gemma seemed almost melodramatic as she spoke, but she also sounded strangely earnest. "You said your name was...Tamara?" The former boy nodded. One of Gemma's hands slipped behind Tamara, while the other hand gently smoothed itself against the secretary's cheek as if she were showing genuine affection. "Do you know what that name means? It means...you are a tree. Standing tall and firm...and strong. Much like the tree of life, dear child." Tamara smiled. "Well...if the tree of life were a palm tree, anyway." Gemma shrugged, smiling as she placed Tamara's hands back on the shopping cart's push bar. "A tree is a tree, Sister Tamara. If you wished to flourish through our caring and generous attentions, the Sisterhood of the Sacred Feminine could help you to blossom, and prosper. More than you ever believed you could." Tamara had to admit that the offer sounded quite pleasant, although while her guard was still up, she was willing to let it falter a bit so that she could hear more about it. "Could you...walk with me, for a while, while I shop, Gemma? I...have questions about your spiritual calling. I'm obviously very curious." Gemma stepped in once again, clinging to Tamara's arm as they both began to move through the aisles. "Of course, Sister Tamara. I do humbly endeavor to explain and enlighten you more of our divine calling while you are here. Ask me anything you wish." As the pair of them made their way through the food aisles, questions relating to the 'Divine Feminine' were posed, and Gemma answered each of them as safely as she could, elaborating on the nature of the religion to the receptive and curious former boy. At one point, Gemma needed to step away, as someone had signaled for her attention. One of the shoppers, apparently. As Tamara waited, she glanced at a young man reaching up to try and grab something that was out of his reach. He tried leaping, but that didn't get his hand close enough to acquire it. Tamara smiled, heading over to confirm, and then acquire, that which the boy wanted. Handing it down to him, she remembered a raven-haired woman named Maggie offering the same favor. It almost seemed like Tamara's life...perilous and stimulating, as it all too often was...was coming full circle. What would become of this particular boy? How would he end up if Cresswell ever fixed their feminizing eye upon him? "Pssst...hey, kid," Tamara quietly beckoned over the boy just as he was about to deposit the item he now had into a half-full shopping cart. She then pointed at Gemma. "See that red-headed woman over there?" The boy nodded. "Stay away from that one," Tamara instructed, as quietly as she could. "She's...a little weird." The boy looked confused now as Tamara giggled, going back to her own shopping cart to wait. Eventually, Gemma returned. "I'm so sorry, but I need to cut this short, but please, Sister Tamara..." Fishing through the pockets of her dress, she pulled a pamphlet and handed it to the plus-sized woman. "...let the divine voice within you guide you here upon any given Sunday, so that the rejuvenating hymns and psalms of the Divine Feminine can flow through you, offering rebirth under the immaculate light of the great Goddess," As she backtracked, she placed her hands together, as she had done with her potential convert, in a prayer position. "Blessed be the Goddess of the Sacred Feminine, Sister Tamara." And, with that, she turned to leave. Looking at the pamphlet, she saw the address for what was assumedly a place of worship. The hours of their services were more or less the same as that of the Christian religion that Tamara was a little more familiar with. Obviously, Tamara was in no big hurry to reinvent herself as 'Sister' Tamara, and she had a feeling that going through their spectrum of beliefs and rituals would be just as harrowing an adventure as the one Rita Noble put her through. No doubt if Timmy had allowed Gemma to take him into their numbers, he probably would have wound up among the nuns that lingered outside, trying to get the attention of other potential believers. It was bad enough that every time Tamara sought to say the word 'God', it always...always...came out as 'Goddess'. Perhaps that was why the concept of the Divine Feminine became a bit more interesting to her, now that she was a full woman. That side of her that always couldn't help but to peer into the Abyss, so to speak...and sometimes even jump headlong into it...kept repeating the question to herself. What more is there to it? Does this 'Goddess' Gemma spoke of have an actual name? Would she truly have to become 'Sister Tamara' just to find out? * * * The hairclips Walda had in his head looked silly in their placement, but Celeste had to admit that the greatly-amusing arrangement kept the full and lustrous head of hair that had grown out from getting into his eyes as he practiced combining the chemical compositions Celeste had taught him. The bumps beneath his shirt were larger, and Walda found it impossible to latch together the waistband of his black dress pants, making him look even more ridiculous. Occasionally, he would reach down and pull up his pants to make sure the waistline stayed above his larger posterior. Walda sighed. "No, I...I don't think that's it," he lamented in his higher, girlish voice, which remained quietly timid and nervous. Celeste shook her head. "Ruined another one, eh? And I thought you were an aspiring scientist." "I am, Madame Celeste! I am! Really!" Walda whined. "Bullshit," Celeste shot back. "You have yet to prove it, young lady." "I can do it...I can do it..." He began rinsing out the test tubes. "...I really can do it..." Celeste, however, intervened, angrily grabbing one of his delicate wrists. "No, no, no. STOP. I won't have you ruining any more of the compounds! Get over here..." Walda hurried to keep up as Celeste pulled her jittery lab assistant over from the white-walled laboratory she had within the basement to the dungeon area that was outside of it. After commanding him to lower to his knees, and after pulling off his glasses, she stepped over to a nearby rack, pulled a firm black dildo, drenched its length with a bottle of lubricant, and then turned back to Walda, who timidly stared up at her. "Your body is clearly distracting you," Celeste explained, still glaring down at her new assistant. "You need to learn how to release it." Walda tilted his head to the side. "With an artificial sphincter?" Celeste sighed irritably. "Dildo. It's called a fucking dildo." The ringtone on her smartphone interrupted the apparently momentous occasion. Seeing the name, she gestured for Walda to wait while she stepped away to answer the phone. "What is it, Petal?" Celeste asked. "Plainly put? A cluster fuck, Madame Celeste," Petal responded. "Xavier is in the hospital recovering from blunt force trauma, Tamara was removed from the clinic before I had a chance to do anything more with her, and...well, it seems Agatha has decided to deal with that whole mess personally." "Because she wants her feisty little bodyguard, obviously," Celeste mused. "She's wasting her time. Not surprised. I guess I can't get Xavier to put that Katzhoff bitch away anymore." "Soooo...what are we gonna do?" Petal asked. "You know what, Petal? We're not gonna do shit!" Celeste griped. "Because I've had enough of this Katzhoff-Portnoy garbage! If Agatha wants to deal with it personally, she can have it! Best we can take out of that is that Maggie can continue to be a distraction for her! But right now? I'm not arranging anything more unless she starts pissing directly in my pool!" "Let's not forget the hold Rita has over Tammy," Petal offered. "That's always gonna be there, which gives us the edge." "Yeah, yeah, whatever...but until Rita comes banging at my door to bitch and moan about something she needs from me, I'm washing my hands of all this nonsense." Celeste let out a loud sigh, rubbing her forehead. "For the moment. Now if you don't mind, I have someone here and I need to teach him how to play with himself." "Very well, Madame Celeste. Have fun." Petal ended the call there. A thought occurred to Celeste when she diverted her attention back to her fidgeting, and perpetually nervous lab assistant, who as he knelt on the ground engaged in a habit he had developed since coming out of the Salon's machine: pinching his larger, sensitive nipples. Going over to another rack in her dungeon, she picked up a black leather eyemask...one which had no holes for the eyes to see through, effectively making it a blindfold...and stepped back over to Walda. Before he could say anything, Celeste wrapped the thick leather covering over the nervous lab assistant's eyes. Walda began hyperventilating now. "Mistress Celeste...?" He felt a finger press against his lips. "I don't want you to see what is about to happen," Celeste explained. "I want you to feel it. Now...lean forward and present your ass to me." Celeste inserted the thick dildo into Walda's anus slowly, and once the tip was submerged, she pushed the rest of the dildo's long length into the tight hole. Walda let out a loud moan as she did this. Celeste began to pull it out now, but only to a point just before the crown could be seen. She pushed it back in again, and then back out, establishing a slowly-increasing pumping motion. She heard Walda moan like a whore as the pumping continued. Celeste then had Walda hold the dildo so he could continue pumping the dildo into and out of his own anus. Quickening the pace of the pumping, he began panting like a dog. "There," Celeste grinned. "Now you sound like a proper pet." * * * Although she had gone to Gourmandizer's by bus, Tamara had so many bags to carry that she chose to summon forth a car through an online taxi service for the trip home. She was still dwelling on what Gemma had told her about the local religion. Still debating to herself as to whether or not she wanted to jump into it. There had to be downsides to becoming a believer. If there were enough significant ones, she could brand them radical cultists. She thought about asking Maggie about it, the next time she saw her. When the cab finally pulled up near her house, a familiar-looking car with a familiar-looking woman leaning against it gave Tamara a reason to smile wide. Burdening herself with all the shopping bags, the former boy walked towards the car as Maggie turned her head to look upon the plus-sized secretary with a grin of her own. Although when Tamara saw her bruised face, which had a couple of small bandages on it, Tamara's smile melted a bit. "What the fuck happened to you?" "Oh, just some hotshot soldier boy who made the mistake of messing with my big-boned bitch," Maggie mused, walking alongside Tamara as they both approached the front door. Knowing the kind of person Maggie was, she didn't expect the raven-haired hellraiser to give Tamara a hand with the bags... ....but she was nice enough to produce a key, and unlock the front door for Tamara. "Why am I not surprised that you have a copy of the house key?" Tamara amusedly asked. Maggie answered with a wry grin. "I didn't think you'd mind." "I'm glad you're here." They stepped into the house's foyer. "And in one piece. How'd you know I was here?" "Did you run into any mysterious blondes at the clinic?" Maggie asked as Tamara began storing away her groceries. "Her name was Grace," Tamara replied, stopping to turn to Maggie. "She got me out of there. Do you know anything about her?" "Well...I can only guess that she's on our team," Maggie answered. "Otherwise, you'd still be in there, thinking you were knocked up." "Rita messed with my head, too," Tamara added. "Grace...well, I'm guessing she cleared it up a bit." "Yeah, about that..." Maggie stepped forward to gently place her hands on Tamara's shoulders. "...I...hope you're aware that there may be no way around that. I mean...you're always gonna be associated with Rita. Whenever any of the Sisterhood ladies feminize a guy, it...tends to leave a permanent mark on their psyche." Tamara lowered her head a bit, nodding in acknowledgement. "Guess I really don't have much of a choice there, do I?" "I intend to grill Grace about that," Maggie responded. "If there's a way to break her influence, or even weaken it, I'll beat it out of people if I have to." Tamara giggled. "Most people tend to have angels on their shoulders. I guess you're mine." "Fuck yeah, kiddo," Maggie confirmed. "I just like to cosplay as the devil," she added with a wink and a grin. Tamara regarded Maggie with a more submissive look. "Can I get the devil anything to eat, or drink?" Maggie feigned a moment of thought, and then frowned playfully to Tamara. "Yeah. Get me a beer!" Tamara giggled at this. "I knew there was something I forgot." Maggie then closed the distance between her lips, and Tamara's. She spoke tenderly before their lips touched. "I guess you'll have to give me this, instead." As their lips connected and pressed together passionately, their arms wrapped around each other. Tamara moaned as they kissed, feeling a surge of excitement within her as the moment lingered. Tamara's body heat rose quickly as their kiss deepened, compelling her to release her arms from the shoulder straps and pull down the top half of her one-piece dress until it hung down from her waist. Grabbing one of Maggie's wrists, Tamara positioned the raven-haired woman's hand at one of her breasts so Maggie could rub it. Maggie pulled her head back slowly, looking upon Tamara's now sweaty face as she panted with slack-jawed desire, gazing lustfully back at Maggie through half-lidded eyes. "D-did you...want something to eat?" Tamara asked, still panting. The screeching of tires out in front of the house diverted the attentions of both ladies, and their heads snapped in the direction of the front door. Slipping the straps of the top portion of her dress back on her shoulders, Tamara headed for the front door with Maggie following behind her. Just as Tamara reached the door, whoever was on the other side knocked frantically upon it. "T'mara?? T'mara, you in there?" The southern-accented voice was unmistakable, and a wave of relief swept over them both. With a pleasant smile on her face, Tamara opened the door. "There's nobody here but us bitches," Tamara amusedly replied, relieved to once again see the face of Larry Hanel. Larry himself looked relieved. "Next time y' take an extended leave of absence, sport...y' need t' call me!" "If I was able to, I would have," Tamara opened the door wider, revealing a grinning Maggie at the doorway as well. "Nice place!" Larry observed as he walked from the foyer to the living room. "Old school d'sign. I like it!" "What realtor did you get this place from, Tamara?" Maggie asked. Tamara turned to face them both. "My Mom," she soberly replied. "She's...not coming back, so she told me the place is mine." "I hope y' realize your Mom's a hero among most of th' normal women in Bullchest'r, sport," Larry reminded. "It was Ruth's info that led to th' well-d'served dismantle o' that slave traffickin' ring." "Yeah, but she had to go into Witness Protection to do it," Tamara replied. "She called me, though. A few hours ago. Maybe Grace arranged it, I don't know, but...she told me she's in Kansas now with my Aunt Eunice. She's doing OK, too." Maggie nodded. "Because you saved her life. I won't hear any differently, Tambo." Tamara blushed, lowering her head bashfully. "T'mara...I should tell you that Mayoress Stroud contacted me," Larry cautiously remarked. "She wants me...or, us, rath'r...back in Bullchest'r. She's ev'n set aside some awful fancy office space for us. We'd be...a bit more upscale than we used t' be." "Sir...the way I feel right now..." Tamara couldn't help but glance to his crotch as she spoke, fighting a minor urge. "...I'm ready for anything." "Attagirl." Maggie grinned with pride. "And right now..." Tamara turned her head towards the kitchen. "...I'm ready to fix us up a little something to eat." "Whoa, hold yer horses there, sport," Larry raised a hand in restraint. "Wouldn't y' rath'r th' three of us chow down at th' best damn rest'rant in Bullchest'r? I'm buyin'." "You sure about that, prude boy?" Maggie amusedly remarked, feigning concern "I mean...look at Tamara. Can you imagine how much she eats?" "I have you to thank for all this luscious poundage, devil girl," Tamara grinned. "I had to fight off a kid who couldn't stop staring at my mams on the bus." "Did you get his name?" Maggie asked. "I could have him in a maid outfit by the end of a week. You could hire him to keep the place clean." "Naah, he was harmless," Tamara answered. "He's probably jerking off to the picture I autographed for him as we speak." "See...it's guys like that who seem to deserve the femininity that the Sisterhood forces upon them if they should happen to live in a place like Bullchester," Maggie observed. "He'd better watch his ass." "Yeah, but Maggie...I was nothing like him when Rita found me," Tamara countered. "My Dad tried to put that kind of thinking in me, sure, but..." "But you're not your Dad," Maggie interjected, placing a hand on the plus-sized secretary's shoulder and giving it an emphatic squeeze as she spoke. "You're a kick-ass bitch who has proven that she's totally capable of handling herself in most situations. I hope you realize that that's why I haven't been shadowing you very often." "Yer also th' best damn secretary I ev'r had, sport," Larry emphatically added. "Y' got Paralegal p'tential, too, an' that's my pr'fessional opinion." "I haven't made up my mind about that, by the way," Tamara reminded. "Ehh...stick to the secretary thing," Maggie noted. "It'd be kind of weird to have a Paralegal in Bullchester who moonlights as a pinup model." "So..." Larry flourished towards the door in the manner of a gentleman. "...shall we, ladies?" Once Tamara had bundled herself up again, the trio stepped outside the house, which Tamara locked up behind her. Loading into Larry's car, they rolled away towards the city. "Ev'r thought about learnin' how t' drive, sport?" Larry asked. "I haven't really thought about it," Tamara answered. "Nothing screams independence like having your own Jag, sweetie," Maggie offered. "Y' could easily git one on yer salary, y' know!" "I know, but...well, I still have to acquaint myself a little better with the city," Tamara reasoned. "I mean...do they have a driving school where I don't have to worry about being seduced into wearing short skirts and skimpy bras so I could offer sexual favors during a cab ride?" "Jeez, Tams," Maggie mused. "That's one hell of a premium. Is that before, or after the ride?" Tamara shrugged, smiling. "Depends on the tip." As Maggie and Larry chuckled merrily over the mirth, Tamara found herself staring out the window of the car as they made their way through the city. Upon slowing to a stop sign, her gaze lingered upon a sinfully attractive young woman asserting herself upon a younger man. She definitely looked like she could be associated with the Cresswell ladies. The young man looked nervous, but stimulated and entranced at the same time. His jaw seemed to hang open as she spoke. Maggie's curious eyes fell upon this moment, too. "What do you think they'll turn him into by the end of the week?" she quietly wondered aloud. "Does he deserve it, though?" was Tamara's response. "He doesn't look like the kind of person who peeks under skirts without permission." Maggie shrugged. "Sometimes the worst kinds of people hide behind the most innocent of appearances, Tam. I'm not saying you're one of them, but...well, as much as I loathe them for all their damned power plays, a part of me is kinda glad they're doing what they're doing. Bullchester was a melting pot of male ego and misogyny before Cresswell's influence began to spread." Tamara nodded. "I would have hated it. All that 'guy' shit. It's like we've forgotten what equality is all about. Why it's worth fighting for." "That's why I'm here, Tambo," Maggie responded. "Because women like Agatha won't stand for it. Extreme masculinity against extreme femininity can get out of hand. I'm all about being concerned for the ones that caught up in the crossfire," Maggie gave the plus-sized secretary a gentle nudge. "People like you." Tamara indicated the enthralled young man. "And him, if he's one of the good ones," Her head then turned to regard Larry. "You could have chosen to remain in practice outside of Bullchester, Larry. Why did you decide to go back?" "Guess I'm callin' their bluff, sport," Larry replied. After a moment, he thoughtfully added "'I was within an' without, simultaneously enchanted an' repelled by the inexhaustible variety of life.'" Tamara smiled a bit. "I'm guessing that's from Gatsby?" "That's th' one quote that stuck with me ev'r since I moved th' practice t' Bullchest'r, an' clients started comin' in," Larry answered. "Gotta take th' good with th' bad, ev'n in a place as...extreme...as this one. Besides...it's a blessin' t' be able t' be on the inside track on all them power players." "Just as long as they don't put you in panties, boss," Tamara warily reminded. "Oh, hell. I'd look downright ridiculous in a half-slip, sport!" Larry responded, provoking a bit of laughter from his two passengers. "'Sides...I don't think th' wife'd much approve!" The car settled into a parking lot of a restaurant that had gotten a great deal of praise in the local newspapers. The place was called Upscale. Larry had talked about it on occasion during their lunch breaks together when they went out to eat. There was a less fancy eatery across the street where Larry and Tamara had their lunches right across the street, and Larry had spoken of what made Upscale such a top-tier dining mecca. The biggest perk was the fact that the establishment...which was a reservations-only venue...was only accessible by a scenic elevator of clear, reinforced glass that ran along the side of a what looked like a tall office building. While offices were on the various floors of this building, the top floor...and the floor below it, where the kitchens and the promotional and reservation offices were located...corresponded exclusively to the restaurant. The top floor was where the guests were seated, and where they dined. As it was the Winter season, the reinforced glass dome was in place and the building's heaters kept everyone comfortably warm. As the building was one of the city's tallest, beaten only by the Loris International building(and only by a foot in height), the main eating area...at the center of which were two round bars, each of which was staffed by a team of four highly-talented bartenders...provided an entirely unobstructed view of Bullchester. Tamara found the elevator trip itself amazing enough. It was as if they were being levitated, some invisible force slowly rising the carpeted platform they were standing on higher and higher above the ground, while a recorded, pleasant-sounding female voice outlined the specials of the day, and the Happy Hours at the bar. They also promoted themselves to be able to cater to parties, and to offer up their space to rent out for birthday parties. Although Tamara felt a little dowdy in her plain, one-piece dress and her loafers, Larry assured that the three of them would be fine. As this was a regular business day, a formal dress code was not required. Stepping out into the top floor, however, made them feel as if they should have. Although while there were indeed groups, couples, and individuals in formal dress, there were people in much more ordinary modes of dress as well. Waitresses were in abundance, going to and from various tables, and all of them wore black and white maid uniforms, each of them bearing a name plate on the right breast of their uniforms. Tamara was wide-eyed with amazement when she saw how spacious the area was. A young, formally-suited and female Ma?tre d'h?tel named Venice...who was unsurprisingly shapely and hyper-feminine in nature, and who could have once been a man judging by how robotically perky she was...guided Larry and his two guests to what turned out to be a much sought-after area of the dining space: a three-person table right beside the outer edge! This meant they could get the best possible view of the city below. The evening skies were clear, save for a few small cloud formations, and the moon was full. Once Rio, their somewhat nervous-looking waitress arrived to pass around the menus, Tamara simply stared outside, thoughtfully savoring the incredible skyline view. She temporarily disengaged to establish her food order to Rio when her turn came, after which her gaze returned to the skyline. Larry leaned over to his secretary. "Penny for y' thoughts, sport?" Tamara had to shrug. "I don't know...I guess I can't believe everything that has happened in the past few days since I arrived here. Ever since Mom got us out of Woodhaven after Dad died. Never would have occurred to me that I'd wind up in a place like this, as a member of the opposite sex." "If you had the opportunity to go back to being a boy right now," Maggie thoughtfully remarked. "Would you?" Tamara spent nearly a minute pondering this. A glance down at her large breasts seemed to help make up her mind. "No. I wouldn't," Tamara resolutely answered. "Being a guy just seems so much like trying to prove yourself to a members-only club with most men. Know what I mean?" she quickly raised a hand to Larry in assurance. "No offense." Larry shrugged, smiling. "None taken! Hell, I'm in agreement, sport! Knowin' what College fr'ternities can be like, an' that's the epitome o' misogynism!" The musical ambience was pleasant enough in the venue, although it wasn't as...captivatingly serene...as the tunes Rita Noble liked to play in her car, and at home. That thought gave rise to a chilling possibility. Especially if this was the most successful and the most scenic restaurant in all of Bullchester. But upon rising and getting a look at the crowds from her vantage point, there was no sign of the shapely debutante who had so radically changed the life of Timothy Portnoy. A cordially-smiling Rio returned with a tray full of plates upon which their very delicious-looking meals had been prepared. She set them out, one at a time, next to the drinks they had ordered. As Tamara began to dig into her very well-prepared meal, she had a line of inquiry relating to her experience at Gourmandizer's that she had to share with her raven-haired friend. "So, Maggie...can you tell me a little more about this 'Divine Feminine' thing?" "Oh, those sneaky little twats?" Maggie mused as she began eating her food. "Talk about cult mentality! Why do you ask?" "I ran into Gemma again at Gourmandizer's," Tamara replied. "She gave me the chance to do a little Q&A with her. Apparently, they're sold on the idea that John the Baptist was a herm." "They fed you that line too, eh?" Maggie giggled. "Well, she was in the right place to do it, that's for sure." "She nearly had me the first time." Tamara paused to sip her non- alcoholic drink. "Probably would have succeeded in getting a convert if it weren't for you jumping in that day." Maggie nodded, smiling. "Did she give you that line about 'being divine', and 'belonging with us'?" "She sure did!" Tamara confirmed. "Wanna know how I know that?" Tamara grinned. "Because she fed you the very same line, right?" "Bingo." She paused to carve a piece of her meal away from the delicious mass on her plate. "As I remember, Gemma appreciated the fact that you liked helping your Mom. Knowing them, that would have segued into a crash-course on submissiveness to women, and maybe even a chemically-treated shower." "Whereas with th' women, it's prob'ly a drop down into some big ol' abyss o' trainin' t' b'come a nasty ol' dominatrix," Larry mused. "That's just a guess, o' course. I think ol' Judith Newlington was involved with them Sacred Feminine ladies at one time." Tamara nodded as she listened, taking another forkful of protein-rich meat into her mouth. "Don't let 'em convince you otherwise, Tams," Maggie dismissively remarked. "It's all horseshit. Just another way of hooking you in. If you wanna call my bluff, they do services every Sunday. As always, though, you should watch your ass." Tamara nodded again, swallowing her food. "I think I can find better things to do with my Sunday time." Maggie grinned. "Attagirl." At that point, the Maitre'd, Venice, stepped beside their table flashing a wide-eyed grin. "Good evening! How is your meal tonight? Everything cooked to perfection?" Tamara shrugged. "Works for me!" "Yup," Maggie spoke through a mouthful of food. "No complaints here." "All good as always, Ven!" Larry held up a raised thumb in emphasis of his compliment. "Nice to see you return here, Mr. Hanel." Another full grin from the well-attired, blond-haired and chirpy-voiced hostess. She turned her gaze to Tamara. "Is this your first time here, Miss? I couldn't help but notice you staring around." "Yes, it is," Tamara answered. "It's a really beautiful place." "Well...right over there, on the other side of this floor, is a kind of...observation deck, which you can access from either side of that wall with the big painting of John the Baptist. See it?" Venice pointed to the area in question. Sure enough, flanked by other well- composed paintings, was a large rendering of John the Baptist, who did indeed bear effeminate features in the painted caricature. "Well...we actually have a really nice view of the skyline from here, thanks," Tamara responded. "Why'nt y' go check out that side though, sport?" Larry suggested. "Get th' full Upscale 'sperience while y' here! I'll jus' keep borin' th' shit outta Maggie here with a lil' shop talk." Tamara glanced curiously at Maggie, who shrugged. "You don't need my permission, do you? Go on, check it out for a bit. But be careful." Tamara rose from her seat. "Will do," she turned to Venice. "Thank you." After giving a cordial nod, Venice dutifully...and with the routine nature of a drone...diverted her attention to the next full table in the area, leaving Tamara to approach the opposite side of the dining area. Stepping around the space on the right side of the wall, she saw a couple leaving the space behind the wall, which Tamara now effectively had to herself. The view was indeed as impressive as the one at the table they were sitting at, and without food to divert her, she stepped close to the reinforced glass shielding her from the Winter air outside, and lingered her gaze on the bright lights and buildings of Bullchester below. Wish you were here to see this, Mom. The former boy thought to herself. She was in the midst of recollecting past events when she heard someone step behind him. Tamara initially figured it was Maggie, come to tell her to return. But the last time she smelled that catchy perfume, she was at Gourmandizer's. "Astounding view of the city...don't you think, Sister Tamara?" Gemma Schultz gently remarked as she stepped in close, and next to the plus- sized secretary. Tamara nodded slowly. "Yes, it is." "Like you are gazing down from the highest elevation of an ivory tower," Gemma observed, her hand slowly and gently grabbing Tamara's wrist. "Observing the varied masses...Her flock...as they linger upon the lot of their lives." Tamara smiled, raising an eyebrow. "To which they're all entitled, no matter what their gender." "Mmmm," Gemma turned her head to Tamara. "I wonder if you are still considering a visit to our Church on Sunday. You are not very far from the divine path at all." Maintaining her slight smile, Tamara frowned in confusion as she turned her head to Gemma. "I thought you told me I was..." "I have been blessed by the ever-penetrating light of truth, Sister Tamara," Gemma interjected, looking right into Tamara's eyes. "I know what you used to be, but you have drank from the cup of the Goddess, experiencing a wondrous rebirth." "This was forced on me, Gemma," Tamara shot back. "I did not ask for it." The bright red-haired educator shrugged, smiling. "Our Goddess works in mysterious and varied ways. Sometimes, even through unbelievers. As was the case with you." Tamara didn't respond to this. She wasn't the sort to easily dismiss such statements, skeptical as she was. Her words didn't sound very melodramatic. In fact, they sounded surprisingly earnest. Gemma stepped behind her, and gently grabbed the wrist of her other arm. More of that catchy perfume filled her nostrils as Gemma brought both of her hands together in front of her, as she did at the supermarket. The red-haired woman spoke gently. "Close your eyes, Sister Tamara." Humoring her, Tamara gently lowered her eyelids as Gemma kept her hands pressed together. "That's right," Gemma remarked. "Now...breathe gently for me." Tamara complied, becoming more and more curious. "Good girl. Now...keep your hands together like that..." Gemma pulled her hands away from the plus-sized secretary's wrists, and then stepped quietly in front of her. The red-haired woman's hands then settled upon Tamara's shoulders, tapping them gently. "Now...embrace the gift of humility. Lower to your knees now." Tamara hesitated for a moment, but then began to sink down to the carpeted ground beneath her, still breathing deeply...and by extension, breathing the alluring scent Gemma wore upon her. The former boy felt a finger push up at her chin, and then a pair of lips press against her forehead. "As I am the educator of her ways, She speaks through me. She feels...that you are stronger than you know. I can guide you further, Sister Tamara. You need only come unto me. Wherever you may find me, if not on a Sunday. Always think on how much farther you can go, Sister Tamara. She has already welcomed you with an open heart. I am now in the hopes that you will allow me to teach you her good words." Gemma quietly maneuvered back behind her. "Repeat after me, Sister...Blessed is Our Sacred Lady of the Divine Feminine," she brought her lips closer to Tamara's ear, whispering as Tamara's lips began repeating them. "Blessed is Our Sacred Lady of the Divine Feminine." They began repeating it together now, quietly. And once again, they repeated it. And again, Gemma moved in front of Tamara and lowered herself to her own knees, gently placing her hands on the former boy's cheeks. "Now believe, Sister Tamara." She brought her lips closer to Tamara's. "Believe." Gemma's lips touched Tamara's gently, and then her lips moved to speak quietly into Tamara's ear. "Have you ever wondered why you always say 'Goddess' when you try to invoke...His...name?" Indeed, Tamara did harbor such a curiosity. As much as she could say that it was strong mental conditioning, there was another side of her which would give claims such as Gemma's a chance to be explored. After a moment, Gemma rose to her feet as Tamara held her position below. "Only one who willingly offers her voice for the Goddess of the Sacred Feminine could ever possibly give you the answers you seek," she then pulled Tamara up to her feet. When the plus-sized secretary opened her eyes, she saw Gemma staring back at her. "Find me." With that, Gemma casually walked away from the now-mystified former boy. Going back out to the main dining room as three other patrons stepped into the observatory space, Tamara could not see Gemma anywhere. She did see that Larry and Maggie were waving her over, and it looked like they were preparing to leave. She spoke nothing of her encounter on the way home. It was clear, however, that this was a mystery best left for the next occasion in which Tamara shared a room with Gemma Schultz. EPILOGUE The air was warmer the following morning, which made it a little more comfortable for Maggie as she idly wandered around the roof of the Loris International building, awaiting a sign from the ever-scheming and mercurial woman whose genocidal wants she had been resisting through her actions. As this was the tallest building in Bullchester, she knew that there were no higher elevations from which a sniper could try and take a shot at the raven-haired hellraiser, and that was perhaps Agatha's way of assuring her that she was not being guided into a trap. As much as the view from the table at Upscale was as outstanding as it was, she had to appreciate the perspective from the top of the Loris International building even more. Perhaps it was because Maggie was out in the open air, rather than within a bubble keeping people warm through a well-placed heater system. "Sometimes, I wonder if you're going to burn it all down someday," Agatha began, keeping a distance behind the now smirking Mary Margaret Katzhoff. "Depends on whether or not you could ever be convinced to maintain an acceptable gender balance," Maggie replied, turning to face her sworn enemy. "But I suppose that's too much to ask of a vengeful, selfish witch like you, isn't it?" "Bullchester is ours, Maggie," Agatha remarked, holding a stern gaze on the raven-haired woman. "Everything in it is ours, and yes, anyone who enters our borders, whether they have any relation to the circles of the Sisterhood or not, can become ours if we feel that they can be useful to us." Maggie shrugged. "Then you'll never hear the end of me, Hag-atha." The older woman shook her head with a sense of disappointment. "Shameful. Perfectly shameful that you and I cannot see eye to eye. I suppose I have a better chance of having Miss Porntoy embrace our beliefs." Agatha expected this statement to sting, but Maggie laughed aloud instead. "That's the silliest thing I've ever heard. You obviously underestimate her inner strength." "Inner strength? She is a lamb, Maggie. Not a wolf. She is the sort of person who pokes her head into the abyss, and more often than not stands to stumble and fall. I know the type." "It's one thing to fall, cunt," Maggie shot back. "It's another thing entirely to get back up, and Tamara has been doing a pretty good job at that thus far." "And what if she falls so far that she cannot climb back to the surface no matter how hard she tries, and even with you trying to help her?" Agatha observed. "That may be her ultimate fate, you know. Rita has become quite obsessed with the need to re-acquire her, and I am prepared to support this resolve." "While I arrange for you to wake up with a human head under your bedsheets one morning," Maggie mused. "A head that was once on the neck of Celeste Richards." Clearly striking a nerve, Agatha's gaze now looked more menacing. "You would go that far, wouldn't you?" Maggie returned this gaze in kind, looking just as menacing. "Watch me." Agatha smirked, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "Even if the mouse's curiosities...kill the cat?" "Like Xavier tried to do yesterday?" Maggie now moved in close to Agatha, who held her ground. Maggie spoke right in her face. "Ask him how hard I can hit, assuming he hasn't left the intensive care unit." "It must have been glorious." A slight smile was on Agatha's lips now. "Bringing that jarhead to his knees. I may not be very fluent in martial arts, but I can still bring men to their knees. The kind of men I know you despise just as much as I do." "There's only one place that I would ever even consider being your lackey, Aggie." Agatha raised an eyebrow in her curiosity. "And that's in your fucking dreams." "They'll never be grateful to you in the highly unlikely event that you'll ever get rid of me," Agatha growled. "The world of men. The world I so desperately want to eradicate." This apparently made Maggie yawn aloud, however. "Haggie...we could go on trading insults and silly prophecies all morning, but we both know no one's gonna win. The next time we meet face to face, I'm gonna end you by any means necessary. Even if I have to bring you the head of Celeste Richards to remind you." Agatha shrugged. "If it's a war you want, dear..." Maggie spread her arms to the sides as she interjected. "If you want to see broken Sisterhood bodies litter the streets..." "Don't be surprised if Tammy Porntoy is among them." Agatha began backtracking. "Assuming you have the guts to kill her for the apparent crime of finally understanding...and sympathizing with...why we're doing all of this." Maggie giggled once again, shaking her head as she grinned. "See you in your wet dreams, bitch." As much as she didn't want to admit it, however, Agatha's last statement did sting. Seeing the picture of John the Baptist at the restaurant last night made her think of Gemma. If she did have intentions to mess with Tamara's mind through a religion that Maggie knew was just another nefarious strategy in Agatha's grand scheme... Perhaps the devil of Bullchester needed to visit this particular redhead called Gemma sometime soon, and have a...potentially unpleasant chat. * * * As she sat on the bench in the Bullchester park, Rita Noble glared at the picture of Tamara Portnoy in the fringe fashion magazine she had been given by one of her fellow executives. The retro-fashioned pinup girl the former boy was obviously moonlighting as was generating more notice, and she was effectively turning the eyes of the fashion world away from the models of Loris International. The worse news was that their transgender superstar, Pandora, was ironically considering a change in motif. Now, she wanted to do the same kind of 50s retro pinup girl portfolios Tamara had begun building an audience with. Yet another reason to somehow reverse Tamara's fortunes, and one day make her the slut she had once conspired for her to become. The sound of clacking shoes walking in her direction compelled the debutante to curiously bring her head up, and then over to whoever it was that was approaching. She figured it was one of her many Loris models. Upon seeing who it actually was, she froze, her eyes widening. Rita slipped the magazine back in her bag. It almost seemed like d?j? vu. Not too long ago, a young male object of her attentions had come to her...to this very bench, where she sat reading a Loris fashion magazine...so that he could thank her for providing a job offer that proved fruitful. The end result of her seductions...the very same woman who had put a glare on her face in the magazine ad she had spotted...now stood before her. She was dressed in the very same white outfit that Rita had left for her at her abandoned home. She didn't think the subtlety would pay off. Tamara's hair had been fashionably teased. They weren't the 50s-style curls in the picture, but it nevertheless went well with the white, one-piece dress which hugged her curves like a glove. She was definitely a vision of beauty. Not as slutty as Rita would have wanted for her creation, but certainly catwalk-ready. Rita had to smile. No doubt that this could have been provoked by the triggered mental conditioning she had implanted upon Tamara during her feminization. Perhaps this was the moment where she could truly take Tammy Porntoy back. "Hello, Rita," Tamara began, looking upon her with a straight face. Shit. Rita griped to herself. The conditioning was supposed to prevent Tammy from calling her anything other than 'Mom' or 'Mother'. Never Rita. It was obvious that someone very deeply associated with the Sisterhood had broken Rita's carefully-laid conditioning. SHIT! Still, Rita maintained her smile for the fact that Tamara looked so sinfully alluring in the dress. "Good morning, dear." She leaned in towards Tamara. "You...look... incredible. I always knew that someday, you'd have the perfect body for that dress. I'll never forget when you first tried it on, and I fixed your hair, and I did your makeup. You may not have been the female that you are now, but...you would have been passable." A part of Tamara was entirely nervous, but she made a herculean attempt to keep from letting it show. "If I reminded you of my father, Rita, there's nothing I can really do about that. But you crossed the line when you tried to make me believe you were my mother." "In a way..." Rita grinned like a Cheshire cat. "...I am your mother." Tamara's eyes narrowed. "You never gave birth to me." "No, but I still created you from the foundations you gave me," Rita reminded. "You were my first, too...and I must say, you have become quite the vision of femininity since then," she then lifted the fringe fashion mag, showing Tamara her own retro pinup picture in the advertisement. "I never expected you, however, to use those gifts against me." Tamara smiled. "Hmmm. That was a chilly day, too. The wind was tickling my clitty that night." The smile on Rita's face was gone now. "This hurts me, Tammy." "So does being unable to see my real Mother again," Tamara shot back. "I loved my Mother, you bitch. Don't you ever try a shitty trick like that on me again. I don't give a fuck who you are, or what you've done to me." "I would think you inherited the house, though," Rita reminded, her smile slowly restoring. "Your flag is still planted there, and through friends you and your mother made right here in Bullchester. A part of me wonders how different your life would have been had you not met Mary Katzhoff." "Knowing what you had in store for me, I probably would have been attached to your leash by now." "How I missed the touch of your lips, and your tongue, on my feet," Rita noted. "You worshipped me like a Goddess back then. How could I not reinforce the bonds I have over you, Tammy Porntoy?" "Well..." Tamara began to tremble a little bit, recollecting the words Julia had spoken during their last encounter, when she renewed Tamara's attraction to feet. She couldn't help but glance down at Rita's. "...it's...it's over...now." "Is it?" Rita caught the glance, and her smile became a bit more lascivious. "Or are you..." she pulled one of her bare feet out of the fashionable sandals she was wearing, and wiggled her toes fetchingly. "...hungry?" Tamara shut her eyes, trying to resist the temptations as her head slightly turned away from Rita. A part of the plus-sized secretary figured that this could be a big mistake. She hoped she would ultimately be able to stand her ground, and walk away from the source of her pleasure... ...pleasure? No...she meant to think pain, but...Rita never really... She suddenly felt Rita's plump lips press against her own, and her arms wrap around her body as the debutante's curvy body pressed against her. Tamara moaned once in her surprise... ...but her next moan was a passionate one, as she melted into the kiss, unable to resist the feel of Rita Noble's body against hers. Tamara's own body heat rose, and the kiss became much more passionate as they stood there. Keep your head... Tamara thought to herself. ...keep...your...head... Rita then slipped a hand beneath Tamara's dress, finding the nipple of one of the former boy's breasts. She positioned a long, french-cut fingernail beneath it as her lips moved to whisper into Tamara's ear. "It's not..." Rita gave the nipple a sharp flick, causing Tamara to gasp from the sensation. "...too..." Another flick, another gasp. "...late." Rita then pulled away, still deviously smiling as Tamara panted, trying to recover from the moment. A hand went to her forehead to wipe away sweat beads that had formed. "I won't need to reel you in, like a fisherman pulling a feisty trout he managed to hook," Rita mused as she went for her bag, and slipped her bare foot back in the sandal. "You'll come back to me, someday. You know where I live, and I know where you live. Now the real game begins, Tammy Porntoy. Your Goddess will always beckon for you...or perhaps, when you least expect it...I will come for you for an eve, just to remind you how much more of a mother I have become to you compared to Ruth Portnoy." Good. Tamara thought to herself as she recovered. She's going away. Goddess, that was too close. A sweet smile returned to Tamara Portnoy's face as she waved. "Say hi to Pandora for me, Rita Porter." Rita stopped as she tried to slink away. Her head furiously snapped back over to where Tammy was standing... ...but she was walking away now. Having turned away from the self- styled 'Goddess', she now had a satisfied smile of her own as she walked away with a sexy sway to her hips. She could feel Rita's angry gaze linger upon her as she moved. But the downside to this victory was that she once again found herself approaching the boy she had met on the bus. Prentice Braithwaite was in a bench, and his eyes had immediately locked on the busty vision of irresistable beauty who was nice enough to autograph the ad he had wanted to detach from the magazine so he could have it framed. Prentice's eyes lit up when he spotted her, and he rose up from his seat. "HEY! Wow! Remember me from the bus? Damn, it's great to see ymmmmf...!" Knowing Rita's eyes were still on her, Tamara immediately planted a deep kiss upon Prentice's lips, much to the boy's total, wide-eyed shock. She even wrapped her arms around him as she lingered the sexy smooch for a long moment. When she glanced in Rita's direction after slowly pulling away, the crafty debutante was gone. Prentice, however, was trembling wildly as he stared, wild-eyed, upon the veritable Goddess who had just kissed him. A highly-satisfied Tamara's hand went to Prentice's head of shoulder- length hair and pinched some of it, rubbing them between her fingers as she spoke. "Get those curls." With a spring in her step, Tamara stepped away, heading for the bus stop. She was looking forward to sharing this empowering moment with Larry Hanel when she returned to work the following morning. Prentice needed a moment to recover...and when he did, an adolescent girl passed him. Looking down at his crotch, her face twisted to one of disgust. "EWWWW...!" Looking down, he saw that a large, wet, and sticky spot had formed around the bulge in his pants. "Fuck!" He growled as he hurried away, blushing furiously. His hands tried to conceal the wet spot from open view. That didn't keep everyone around him from laughing at his expense. * * * Tamara and Larry shared a big laugh over her story as they continued boxing up their things at work. Although the new office was still in the latter half of its construction, they wanted to be ready to make the shift to their more upscale digs in Bullchester. "Sounds like y' got a big ol' burn in on Rita in the end, sport!" Larry mused. Her tone suddenly went serious. "But, uh...y' might wanna try an' keep from doin' that kinda thing too often. Y' keep goin' back t' her, y' might relapse. Know what I mean?" Tamara sighed. "That's just it. I don't know if I can. The night before, I hardly got any sleep, thinking about whether or not I should do it. I was practically writhing in bed over what I went through with her in the past. Rita was right about one thing. I...I don't think I'll ever be rid of her." "Maggie said she'd look into it, so let's hope she can come up with a lil' ol' workaround," Larry responded, getting a look around the half- empty office. "So...we still got a big ol' chunk o' time before we can get ourselves set up in th' city..." One of Larry's hands now fished into an inner pocket of his suit jacket. "...so I figured I'd, uh...extend an invitation to a lil'...business trip." Larry then produced a pair of plane tickets. Grabbing one, Tamara examined it. The former boy's eyes widened. The end destination was Kansas. Her widened eyes went back up to Larry, feeling a little concerned. "What kind of business are we..." "I want you t' meet th' wife!" Larry merrily interjected. "See...I knew from what Maggie told me that startin' work in a place like Bullchest'r would be an awful risky thing for a married man t' do, so...rath'r than practic'ly hand 'er off to th' Sist'rhood on a silver platter, Shelley an' I agreed that she should head on out t' be near her gran'ma out in Abilene. Seems ol' LouAnne's havin' a tough time gettin' acquainted with th' modern world. Y' know...cell phones, tablets, internet, comput'rs...so while I made th' move t' Bullchest'r, Maggie helped get Shelley on a plane without any o' them Sist'rhood bitches gettin' wise. Laid quite a stink, too. Had a hack'r put a ransom bug on their comput'rs! Scary stuff there, don'cha think?" Tamara nodded, her smile widening as Larry spoke. "An' yes, I'm gon' see what I can do t' locate yer Mom while I'm out there," Larry added. "Figure we'd get two birds on one stone. Assumin', o' course...y' got nothin' bett'r t' do 'fore that...new office is ready t' move into..." Tamara wrapped her arms around Larry, pulling him into a tight hug as she giggled happily. When she pulled away, happy tears rolled down her face. "You've been so nice to me, Larry." Tamara wiped the tears from her face. "Thank you. Thank you so much." Larry smiled, tapping Tamara's cheek lightly with a hand as he spoke. "Jus'...think of it as well-earned vacation time," Larry then continued emptying out his office, storing things in open boxes he had before him. "I'll pick y' up t'morrow mornin' at 6 sharp." Tamara went back to dutifully helping her boss with the cleanout. "Feel free to stop in for coffee if you arrive early, sir." "Hmmm. Might jus' do that," Larry mused as they both lapsed back into their cleaning. * * * ----===*DaHBIC would like to connect with you, MagDKat*===---- - MagDKat '< : So who's my next victim today, hmmm? - DaHBIC '< : Someone who kept you from losing your prize bitch. - DaHBIC '< : It's Grace. - MagDKat '< : Damned if I would know from your handle, blondie. - DaHBIC '< :