Life Imitates Art - The Body Suit: Conclusion free porn video

Laurie Emerick came home from work to find her apartment empty. An apartment this small did not require her yelling to know if Kayla, her former boyfriend turned roommate, a man turned woman, was home. It had been a week to the day since Coleman had taken the job at Counter Punch, a clothing and cosmetics company. And it had been a week to the day since he disappeared under the wrap of a high-tech body suit turning him into Kayla Cameron Cook. While her name may have been reminiscent of the name of the man she was - Coleman Conner Cook - the person wearing the name was increasingly a stranger. Laurie kicked off her low pump heels in the middle of the living room and grabbed a tasteless rice cake from the pantry as she pondered what she would make for dinner. There was no need for her to consider whipping something up for two. In the time since Kayla had been suddenly birthed into this world by magical science, as Laurie often thought of it, her floating assistant job at the clothing company increasingly consumed after work hours. Laurie chose to take Kayla's explanation for her growing absence. Although he did it rarely, Coleman was a poor liar. Many of the qualities that hampered his acting, overplaying, complex and convoluted motivation, were there in his lies. You could see them coming the moment he opened his mouth. Laurie often wondered if it was his lack of deceptive ability, or honesty, which made almost everything that came from his mouth truthful. But Kayla wasn't Coleman. It was an odd thing to say because underneath the second skin and tricks and gadgets that made up her womanhood, was a person who spent twenty odd years as Coleman. Same brain. Same DNA. Same childhood experiences. But that person could no longer be seen in the mirror. That person's gender could no longer be seen in the mirror. And every human being that encountered the shapely attractive Kayla treated her in radically different ways. Laurie Emerick took chemistry and biology as a college science requirement and barely could keep her eyes open during class. She did not pretend to be an expert on the brain. But like most, she understood it was a complex and surprisingly flexible and mysterious director of what makes people who they are. She wondered, if you are thrown into becoming something entirely new, as it was for Kayla, does the brain adjust its machinery in subtle ways to compensate? Were new pathways in the synapse being forged? Certainly, the Kayla that revealed herself in the Parking lot outside of The Last Call Sheet bar a week ago, timid unsure of her womanhood, was a different prospect from the one that exists today. With a sigh, she glanced at the empty, well-worn spot on the couch that was usually warmed by Coleman in the evenings when Laurie returned from work. Coleman may not have been able to lie to her. But Kayla? This new person who usurped Coleman's place? Maybe she could. She was brought out of her musings by a ding of the elevator down the hall and the unmistakable sound of large furniture being moved - the sound of covered objects thudding around while male voices gave instruction and occasionally grunted with effort. Undoubtedly the apartment left vacant by the heartless eviction of the Polish couple was being taken over. A mild anger rose in Laurie, before she tamped it down. It does her no good to be angry with people who may not even be aware of the circumstance that freed their apartment. Better to determine what kind of people they were first. She opened to door to see a man and a woman, she assumed to be a couple, watching anxiously as the four movers attempted to navigate down the narrow passageway with furniture clearly intended for a larger space. The man was tall and fit, and if it weren't for the stylish round spectacles that sat framing his crew cut and face, she would have taken him for being military. The woman was pretty, a good deal shorter than the man, perhaps by five inches. Her blonde hair was well kept and sat just a bit high, hinting at more than just a touch of hair spray. Combined with the straight bangs cutting across her symmetrical hairstyle and it was not difficult to tell she was likely not a Southern California native. Laurie waited for their focus and apprehension over the furniture guidance to lessen before introducing herself. "Pleased to meet you Laurie, I'm Brittany and this is Charles. Chuck, really, but he's starting to dislike that." The woman elbowed Charles affectionately. They were a couple. But there was something more startling. "That accent. You're from -" "Somewhere near you from the sounds of it, even if you are trying to hide it. Savannah. Heard of it? Surprisingly, many people out here haven't. I swear Californians are the worst with the geography of their own damn country." "They are. Irritating really, like there's no world beyond the state borders except Vegas. I'm from Hinesville, so I grew up quite literally just down the road." Laurie said. "Now there's a nice coincidence," Charles added, "Me? I was born twenty miles from here. I'm one of those people you are apparently irritated with. Couldn't find Ohio or Georgia or whatever on a map if I tried." "Even if it was labeled," Brittany teased. Laurie noted that was quite a nice coincidence. A big one considering. Savannah was no backwater, but it was not big by any means. It was exceedingly rare to run into someone from that part of the world here. And they both seemed like pleasant people. If anyone had to live in Wiktor and Justyna's old apartment, these two seemed to be a good fit. +++++++++++ Frustrated was not the right word, nor was impatient. No, it was more a sense of puzzlement and dismay that consumed this man's mind. Better to solve it before he becomes too insistent. The eccentric fabric manufacturer she had first met, and had sex with, didn't strike her as the type to move against her forcefully. But Kayla needed to be careful. His growing ... obsession was the only word ... his growing obsession with Kayla increased in the days since her visit to his Manhattan Beach home. He called regularly and left text messages often detailing the daytime fantasies and nighttime dreams he was having about her. There was an unsettling desperate edge to them, that made Kayla uncomfortable. Kayla pulled John Carroll's pants down to ankle height. This served the dual purpose of both exciting him for what is yet to come but limiting his mobility. She stroked his shaft slowly, firmly gripping it in her smooth hands until he became completely hard. "Here goes nothing," she thought to herself. Unsure if she could do this, as she had never attempted this before, she pressed her lips against the head of his glistening head and slid it into her mouth slowly and carefully. She placed her hands on his hips to hold him from thrusting, and quite possibly, choking her virgin throat. Satisfied she could do it, she let her mouth go a little further down his stiffened rod, sliding her mouth back all the way to his head again, before sliding her lips down even closer to his base. It was working. One slide later she had managed to get his entire hardened pole into her mouth and down her throat. There was no choking sensation. Half proud, half embarrassed she realized she was a natural. She began moving up and down his shaft faster, pressing her lips hard against his member. She fixed her green eyes onto his as she moaned and slurped as she worked her way up and down. The forty-year-old placed his hand on the back of her head and pushed as he exploded in an initial powerful wave of sperm followed by smaller pulsating shots escaping his penis. Kayla loosened her grip on his hips as, unable to move, she felt her mouth filled with the salty explosion dripping down the sides of her mouth. Taking two fingers she wiped the excess sperm from her mouth and chin and put her sperm sticky finger between the lips of John far down his throat. "That's what it would taste like to suck your own dick John. Like it?" It was a mischievous move, but he didn't object. He didn't object to anything Kayla did. He was taken by her. She was his compulsion, the central figure of thought and fantasy. Unfortunately, this obsession included his imaging himself between her warm wet legs. Something she could not provide. She had a vagina, but not one in the traditional sense. It would feel good to have someone inside her, her folded and tucked penis sharing the thin wall of her female underparts had an even more intense reaction to the suit's drug laden membrane. Fingering herself, as she had come to do more and more just to relieve the constant, growing, desire for sex, gave her unbelievable pleasure. While by its nature it always remained virginal tight - as it turns out a nice protective measure - her vagina was two inches deep. She had let him take her in her ass more than a few times, and now she discovered she could take him in her mouth, but he had been begging to come inside her, so it was only a matter of time before the issue came to a head. Kayla slid his hands on her breasts, as much for her sake as it gave her an overwhelming, drug enhanced sensation of pleasure. She removed his hands to get dressed. Her clothes were in a pile next to her. With the intensity John Carroll wanted her, there was no time for niceties such as folding and stacking her things. "I have to go John. Next time?" she whispered into his ear breathily. He literally shuddered. "Wait. Before you go. I got this for you." A Bulgari watch. Fantastically expensive. Kayla felt embarrassed as she thanked him with a grateful kiss. Not because of the extreme lavishness of the gift, but because it never entered her mind not to take it. Or the rings he had given her when she first returned to join in pleasure. Or the pile cash he gave her for no reason she could discern other than it made him happy to do so. He was as hooked on her as she was the sensation the suit gave her during sex. He was a junkie. She was the drug. That is not to say Kayla didn't feel bad in other ways. She was conflicted over how this affected her relationship with Laurie. Kayla didn't have one, Coleman did. And in her mind Kayla and Coleman were two different people. And be it an odd effect of the near constant stimulation from the suit's chemicals, or that they were so different as people, but even her connection to Coleman's memories and personality seemed to be fading. It was not as though she was forgetting those feelings and thoughts, it was that they were more like the details of a movie that she had seen scores of times. She knew every scene and bit of dialogue by heart, but they weren't hers. She had to get back. First a warning to Mr. Carroll, "John. I love coming down here. And I love the time we spend. But that's four times in one week you've made excuses to have the company send me down alone. One week John." "I am working directly with your company. I do not use assistants from my home office. Having one of your assistants come down to do this thing and that, isn't so suspicious." He had put his clothes back on. Khaki shorts, flip flops and a long sleeve dress shirt. He really was a horrible dresser. "I'm the most junior assistant by a long shot and brand new to the company. You're the most important supplier. You are asking for me by name. It's starting to look like exactly what it is." He waved his hand dismissively, but he was in frustrated agreement, "Yes. Yes. I see you are right. I will have the surfer ... Brett ... come to me to carry out unimportant things. I will build a smoke screen before I see you again." Kayla kissed him on the cheek. At the bottom of the stairs she was met by Miranda. Her look for once not sarcastic but piercing. She walked Kayla to the door as she must have walked hundreds of people. Once Kayla stepped into the warm beach night, Miranda stepped outside looking over her shoulder at the staircase making sure her employer was out of earshot. The short maid was blunt, "I'm not sure what you're doing to Mr. Carroll, but I know it is wrong. Unhealthy. He sweats too much now. He doesn't act right anymore. He calls out your name in panic when he sleeps, just like the nightmare I suspect you are. I don't know if you're giving him drugs ... or fucking with his head .... Whatever your game is, it will involve the police if you do not stop." Lovely, thought Kayla. His maid wants to arrest me. Now to try to avoid lying to Laurie. Again. +++++++ The elevator door slid open. Laurie was standing in the hallway talking to a man and woman in what looked to be their early thirties. From the way they stood in front of the open door of what was once the Piszczeks' apartment, Kayla assumed these were her new neighbors. They both turned their attention on Kayla the moment she came into sight. Kayla had grown used to stares, as much as someone could get used to stares, and was learning something she knew already but not on such a personal level: not all stares were equal. People's eyes never lingered on Coleman for too long. Kayla was versed in stares of lust, jealousy, appreciation, longing, prudishness and even wonder. And she knew when she was being studied. These two studied. "Kayla. Meet Charles and Brittany. They moved into Justyna and Wiktor's place. Their old place, I mean. Kayla," Laurie explained to the two newcomers, "is my cousin." "Distant cousin I take it? You guys don't even look vaguely alike." That was an odd thing to say, Kayla thought. She shook their hands as she spoke "First, second, third, ninth, one-hundredth, I've never been good at the sorting cousins' relation thing. But distant sounds about right." ++++++ Bethesda Harris and Monica Paulson, two of the senior most executives of the Counter Punch clothing company, had taken to meeting semi regularly in a clandestine manner that would shame Cold War covert agents. But anyone with a passing understanding of the budget knew that Kelly Latham, CEO of the company, had security teams on the books who never stepped foot on the company's campus. To boil it down to its essence: spies. Spies to make sure that everything from mundane clothing designs to cutting-edge makeup technology didn't make it to the wrong hands. And Monica and Bethesda were one of the few people privy to a bit more than clothing designs, chiefly skin suit technology so advanced it verged on the magical. "You do realize," Bethesda said opening up the conversation, "that if Kelly gets a picture of us sitting inside a bar wearing hoodies ... emphasis on the inside part ... it will look like we're conspiring to sell secrets." "Well it's not quite that is it?" Monica smiled. In the short time she had come to know Bethesda better, she had come to quite like her. "It's more a mutiny thing than selling of secrets. Well, a soft mutiny. We have no intention of actually deposing her." "Yes. Because that makes conspiring behind her back so much better," it was a soft sarcasm, but sarcasm nevertheless, "What's the news?" "Well," Monica sipped her bottled beer. How do people drink this domestic swill? But as it was the only thing offered in this dive ... "The 'couple' that Kelly had moved in a few days ago ... you remember ... put some old married people on the street so we could get two people from the security team in Kayla's building for better control over the situation? Well, they have been ... persuaded ... to side with us if the shit hits the fan with Kelly." Bethesda let out a low whistle. "What did that cost you? Because you would have to trump what Kelly pays, and she pays crazy amounts for her quasi-legal off the book ops. Or so I'm told." "See this beer I'm holding?" "Yes?" "Cost me less than that. In fact, it cost me nothing at all." "What?" Bethesda asked. "How did you ...?" "For starters, Kelly never told them what they were doing this for. Only what they were doing: move in across the hall from a couple, befriend them, keep an eye on the redhead in particular, pretend to be from Savannah, report what you see. They, for obvious reasons, know nothing about who Kayla really is or about the skin suit at all." "And ...?" "Well, I know people ..." With a touch of playfulness Bethesda sighed; Monica was always tooting her horn on her ability to read people. Bethesda took that moment to look around the bar to read people herself, see if anything felt unusual. Nothing stood out, just people playing pool and nursing beers at a drink stained bar. No one seemed to pay them any mind. "Security team or not, most people aren't like Kelly. Or us for that matter. It came off as shady. Well paying, but very fucking shady. Even though they took the gig, they were far out of their comfort zone. People don't really like to lie that elaborately, and they were chosen chiefly on geography ... well more the girl because she's from Alabama or Georgia or whatever ... but someone to put the girlfriend um ..." "Laurie," "Yes. Of course. I knew that. 'Laurie'. Someone to put Laurie at ease. The way inside in these situations is always through the girlfriend." "Ok. Monica. You have me on pins and needles here. What did you tell them?" "The truth. From beginning to end. Every detail. The complete truth." "Holy shit that was actually very risky. What prompted that?" "Well, it came down to two things really: Kayla went running. And there was a dinner party ..." ****** There was not much of an intersection left between Kayla and her former identity of Coleman; whether by subconscious design, environment or chemistry, many things had changed in a short manner of days. Coleman drank beer, Kayla increasingly enjoyed wine. Coleman rubbed his chin when distracted in thought, Kayla absently twisted her hair. Coleman slouched on the couch when watching movies on television, Kayla pulled her knees and feet underneath her onto the couch, blanket in lap. But Kayla did find running was something that still cleared her head and calmed her, much like that person she once was. But even in that there were differences. Coleman threw on whatever ratty cut off sweat shorts, faded t-shirt and running shoes that weren't too worn out he could find, to achieve his aim of just getting out there and getting it done. He enjoyed a good run, there was no question, but it was function over style. Kayla, however, was pure style. Her black running shorts were nearly as tight as the skin suit beneath it, form fitting against her round pleasant ass just showing a hint of her butt cheeks. Her hourglass torso and flat stomach was left exposed with only a blue flowered sports bra holding, barely, her large breasts in place swaying as she moved. Her shapely legs gave way to ankle socks and, in a nod to her full femininity, a pair of pink Nike running shoes. Kayla tied her long flowing red locks into a tight high ponytail which swooshed from side to side with each step. She was tone, fit and sexy, and she knew it ... and reveled in it. Much like learning to navigate wearing heels, make up, or one of the many other differences her new body brought forth, there were minor differences in the mechanics of running which forced her to adjust. During her first steps the sensation of breasts bouncing was distracting, as was the way she had to adjust her arm swing to compensate for their existence. And padding or not, her hips caused an ever so slight change in her gait. But Kayla's mind and bodily adjustments were highly flexible in the days since the transformation. She learned quickly to make changes on the fly, and this was just another one. By a quarter of a mile in she was indistinguishable from the women who had been running in the park for years. As she made her way past the outdoor food carts and people walking their dogs, she noted people moved aside for Coleman, slight build or not, sometimes nodding in mutual runner recognition. But no one smiled as they did at Kayla today. No one looked Coleman up and down with a sparkle of lusty, longing or just plain appreciation in their eyes. And, unlike many women who just wanted to get on with their workout, she smiled at each one. She was not na?ve, she understood constant attention was a complex, sometimes unwelcoming thing. John Carroll was teaching her as much. But with the clarity afforded her of the calm of an exercising mind, Kayla knew she enjoyed it. And not just the running or the attention she received while doing it, she enjoyed being Kayla through and through. And, she understood with that same clarity, it was not something she would give up lightly. She paused at a bench outside her apartment to catch her breath and take in a beautiful Southern California morning, breathing in the cool dry air. Entering her apartment building she decided to take the stairs up for a change to get in the extra steps before enjoying a nice warm shower. As she reached for the fire door to enter her hallway it flung open violently, just missing her by a hair. It was Charles, the neighbor who moved in a couple of days ago. Kayla jumped back a foot, teetering momentarily on the top stair. "Oh shit! I'm so sorry!" His blue eyes underneath his glassed opened in panic over what he had nearly done. Reflexively, he grabbed both her sweaty arms to steady her. "Are you okay. I'm so sorry!" "I'm fine. Just scared me ..." Kayla corrected, "actually almost killed me, but 'no harm no foul' right?" She smiled to let him no she meant what she said. Charles released her, conscious that he had been holding on so long, "I really have to go. Late already. Look Brittany and I will make you and Laurie dinner. An apology. Tonight. And we won't take 'no' for an answer." And somewhat distractedly to himself he half muttered, "I think we know where the cookware is." And with that he flew down the stairs. +++++++++ For having just moved in, Brittany and Charles apartment was well put together Laurie thought looking it over. A sharp contrast to the maze of books and clutter that once took over Kayla and Laurie place. As with most things about her new roommate - her once boyfriend hidden beneath Kayla - that had changed too. Kayla was neat. She cleaned. Her space was as well put together as her makeup and clothing combinations quickly had become. She was, in every way, a stranger to Laurie. And there was an unsettling air of, Laurie searched for the right word, "vanity" seemed too strong. But there was a careful attention paid to her clothing and presentation that was present even outside of the work environment where the subterfuge demanded it. And Kayla shopped frequently. Putting aside the discomfort of her former boyfriend indulging in a stereotypical female passion with such gusto, that was in and of itself was not a problem now that they had money to do so. Counter Punch paid an obscene amount of money to their beautiful lab rat. But it was the amount of clothes that that gave Laurie's pause. This was the foundation of a burgeoning wardrobe, not that of someone who would be a man once in again in a matter of weeks. And Kayla must have changed four times leading up to a casual dinner with these people. She fretted over whether she was too dressed up, or too casual. She pestered Laurie for an opinion on each change of wardrobe, which Laurie begrudgingly gave with a real sense of growing irritation. After much debate she landed on a jean skirt with a collarless thin light blue blouse, her bra and ample breasts showing clearly through, with the top three buttons left open and inviting. To complete the outfit, her feet were perched in five-inch denim platform wedges. It was, Laurie had to admit, a very sensual outfit disguised as something casual. The fact that Kayla had learned such a keen sense of style, so quickly, saddened Laurie, but on another she felt ... jealous? Is that what that was? "Your apartment, it's so nice." "Yes. I love what you've done," Kayla said, completing Laurie's thought. "Yes, well, we had a little help." Brittany shot Charles an almost imperceptible look, Laurie could not make out what it meant, but her Georgian counterpart sounded vaguely ... what ... uncomfortable? Dinner was delicious, it turned out that Charles was quite the cook. Brittany, as she explained, was a 'master of the microwave' and just happy that one of them had culinary skills. Even so, something was a step off, Laurie thought. Brittany was happy enough to discuss 'back home', and she clearly knew the area, but she moved the conversation gently to another topic whenever it would come up. They talked only about the 'what' of the area - buildings, parks, the occasion restaurant - but never quite could get around to the 'who'. Even after thirty minutes she was unsure of who they knew in common. Then there was Charles. He seemed nice enough. But there's was something a step off there too. More than a step. He participated in the conversation, but seemed distracted, slightly agitated at times. And even though he did his best to hide it, he was constantly stealing glances Kayla's way. Laurie had seen this before, men liked the green eyed, red haired beauty sitting beside her, but these looks, however brief, were intense. But as quickly as they came, they disappeared. It was almost if he were consciously fighting them. Even so, there was no way Kayla didn't notice ... or for that matter Brittany. Dessert was truly a masterpiece. Laurie was no slouch around the kitchen, but she marveled at those who had this kind of skill. Pushing his chair away from the table, Charles announced in a voice a little too rushed, "Hey. Why don't you two head across the hall and catch up on local Hinesville chat, you really haven't had the chance with us in the way. Kayla and I will clean up. If that's okay with you Kayla?" Brittany gave Charles a look and Laurie checked in with Kayla's eyes. She had no idea what passed between the neighbor couple, but Kayla's expression was clear. She may no longer be Coleman, but "don't worry, I know what's happening. I got this," read as transparently on her face as it would on the man she once knew. In a cautious, resigned way, the two women left for across the hall. Once the door closed behind them, Kayla inspected Charles face closely. His blue eyes practically burned. She knew exactly what this was - she had seen it in John Carroll's eyes - and she knew exactly when it happened, the staircase meeting where Charles took her sweaty arms in his hands. Unfortunately for this poor man standing in front of her, there was only one way to keep him from a near obsessive madness tonight; a sweaty night of fever dreams calling her name. Before he could move, she grabbed the small of his back and shoved his body tightly against hers, pressing her breasts firmly against his chest. Not only did he not resist, but the hardened member pressing back against her told her he was willing. Kayla nibbled on his ear, breathing warm breath into it. He shuddered. She placed her lips against his, pushing him even tighter against her body as she forced her tongue down his inviting mouth. "This feeling you have. Toward me. Has it been getting worse as the day goes on? Do you want me more than you can sensibly comprehend?" Kayla continued to whisper in his ear, "Listen, I can't explain. No time. But this must happen." She squeezed his engorged cock, "You'll feel better for a bit and you won't go ..." She thought better of saying more, what good would it do to tell him he was now an addict who would slowly lose his mind? "It just has to. Now. We have maybe four minutes before we need to start the dishes." Charles said nothing, but his hands ran hungrily over the back of her thin blouse. "Yes, yes ..." Charles moaned realizing clearly, for the first time, that this was the source of his agitation; this intense longing for Kayla. "To make this all better, you're going to grab some Crisco from the kitchen and slide this hard dick of yours in my ass right now before the girls catch wind. Understand?" Kayla had been cupping his member in her hand as she spoke. She felt it pulse a bit. Did he already explode in his pants? He must not have, as with a clumsy speed he raced to the kitchen and did as he was told even if he was not sure why he was acting in this way. Kayla grabbed the tub, opened it, and shoved his fingers into the open container. Stepping out of her panties and skirt, but leaving on the platform wedges she was wearing, again pulled him close with her left arm, pressing her lips against his hard in an act verging on violence. Her right hand took his lubed finger and guided them around to her ass pushing them into her opening. "Come on, move those fingers. Make it wide and ready for your dick." Kayla thrust her hips backward and his two fingers slid far into her hole. She moaned with pleasure as his hand moved in and out quickly as her canal gripped his digits. Unbuckling his pants, Kayla took Charles dick into her hand and slathering the cooking grease over his shaft in a beating off motion, until it glistened. "Now fuck me. Hard," Kayla demanded as she turned around, raising her round toned ass high in the air, her body language submissive and willing. Charles reached under her blouse and cupped her breast in one hand as he worked his dick into her with his other. His hand was not small, but it didn't come close to cover the large, firm mound it now gripped. Breathing raggedly, desperately, he shoved his dick past the resisting tight walls, deep into her ass. Kayla moaned loudly in pleasurable concert. "That's it Charles, now fuck me the way you've wanted to all day. Fuck me like you mean it." Kayla rotated her hips slowly, circularly, gripping his dick with her anus every swivel of the way, his balls massaging against her tight ass. "Come on Charles, pump me, fuck me. Harder, harder! Come on!" His body stiffened in that way now well known to her, she tightened her ass and shoved all the way back. He exploded and she felt waves of his warm sperm fill her insides as his stiffened cock softened in release. With little ceremony, she pulled him out and with a quick kiss said, "Clean up fast. We have dishes to do." +++++++ Bethesda Harris stared across the bar table in silent disbelief. She took a sip of her beer and peeled at the label already half off with condensation. "So ... he told you this? All of this? That he anal fucked her? Right there. In the apartment? With his 'girlfriend' but more importantly, Laurie, just across the hall and who could come back at any moment?" "He was relieved to be honest. Once I explained what that really was, about the suit, the chemicals, it all came pouring out. In front of Brittany and everything. They may not be a real couple, but still .... And at that point he was just happy to know he wasn't going crazy. Because that to him felt out of control and completely fucking crazy. But, importantly, it also put the two of them on our side. We have impartial witnesses, to both the strength of the drug and the duplicitous way Kelly operated with a test subject. Plus no one will like to hear how she put that poor Polish couple out of a home or tried to infiltrate Laurie and Kayla's world with lies. It's leverage." "Ok. That's good. Leverage is good. If this all goes sideways, we may be painted as disgruntle employees with an axe to grind. But they certainly can't." Monica spoke again. "Let's be real here. We're dealing with a powerful and dangerous narcotic like substance Kelly wants to just put out there for financial gain. And there are real victims here. Poor Charles. For that matter poor John Carroll, Kayla's doing him pretty regularly too. That's no secret. And with her chemical stimulated sex drive, who knows who else? I mean, the dinner party shows with just a five-minute window her panties can come right down." Monica held up two fingers to signal another round from the waitress. A humorless woman in her early forties who had served too many beers in too many dives to care about customer service, grunted back. "And what about Kayla? She's not in and out like these guys, occasionally dosed. She's in the mother of all doses twenty-four seven. God, what does that do to the mind? What does your people telepathy skills tell you about her mental state Monica?" This time Bethesda asked the question in earnest. "A lot of what you've seen at work. She's not the same person. The suit rewards being Kayla. For all intents and purposes, she is only Kayla. And to remove her from that would be devastating. Physically and psychologically. There is no way anyone comes out of this clean." "Okay. I agree." Bethesda was nodding her head. "Any ideas?" "No real good ones. I wanted to extend the trial for Kayla, I know that's what she'll want, but our big boss Kelly Latham still thinks it should end in a few weeks. Remove the suit and start new trials on new people. More guys." "That's -" "Yeah. A real shit show. But I just had an idea. And not very a good one, but it's all I've got. And if it goes wrong, it could very well cost us our jobs, and maybe a lot more collateral damage to boot." "Fuck it," Bethesda said, "fuck it all. Sometimes you must do the right thing. Even if you go about it in a very wrong way." "Okay, then. It's settled. Let's go talk to Kayla." +++++++ Kelly Latham stepped out of her car into the sunny daylight. Her jeans, t-shirt and flip flops would be a nonstarter at any other time, she always wore the Counter Punch clothes she made, but they were designed for style not comfort. And in a spa as exclusive as this one, privacy was guaranteed to the point phones weren't allowed in the building. Waiting for her by the entrance, feeling decidedly less at ease than the air they pretended to project, were two of her most senior employees, Monica Paulson and Bethesda Harris. They had arranged this unusual day out because they, so they explained to Kelly, wanted to get her away from the office into a completely relaxing environment to strategize better. Kelly did not get where she was, a woman who some of her most powerful male counterparts cowered before her, for not being able to smell deception. When told of this outing a couple of days ago, "bullshit" was her immediate response to what so obviously was. "This has nothing to do with strategizing. Since when do the two of you - two people whose departments rarely work together - strategize with me? Come clean." As Bethesda had told Coleman Connor Cook to first help him formulate a backstory for Kayla, the best lies are built on the foundation of truth. "We have had some concerns," Monica told the executive at the time, "and have been meeting privately to best figure out how to air them. We felt an executive spa day may take the tension off. And maybe away from the imposing statues and the like in your office, make you more receptive to our point of view." Monica used just enough humor to deescalate the gravity of her lie. The fact that Kelly did not seem surprised that the two had been meeting in secret, told Monica that perhaps her meetings with Bethesda were not as covert as she had hoped; this was a woman who, after all, planted a fake couple across the hall to spy on and control her pet project Kayla. Even so, the fact that the two of them were now "coming clean" on their own, made the get together seem less ominous and lent an air of legitimacy to Monica's lie. Now it was time to see if any of this would work. "Kelly. Over here." Bethesda motioned for the woman to join them. Bethesda Harris was a woman more comfortable in the confines of a lab, crunching numbers and doing analysis, than playing a part in "girls day at the spa" charade - but her immaculate hair, French tipped nails, and flawless brown skin, also spoke to a woman who was no stranger to such places. The three women walked down the bright white halls of Luxuria Day Spa as the soft but noticeable harp music played lightly in the background. With its floors of marble and pillars extending to the third-floor high ceiling, it was all meant to give a feel less of the decadence of a roman bath, and more of the luxury. "You have me here," Kelly said, "now what is so important that you two would risk your jobs by getting together behind my back?" Monica attempted to silence her boss in a soothing manner, "There will be plenty of time for you to tear us a new one, let's just enjoy this first. Then we can talk. If that works for you, of course." Kelly sighed and allowed herself to relax. Monica was right, there would be plenty of time for work and the whole purpose of a massage is to relieve stress, not bring it on. She walked into her private room as the other two women entered theirs. Kelly undressed, folding her clothes neatly on the marble bench, before situating before situating herself onto the massage tables. As much as Kelly Latham enjoyed a good rub down, there was something slightly vulnerable about lying naked on a table with just a towel covering her bottom seeing nothing but the floor through the padded head rest. There was a light knock on the door to let Kelly know the masseuse was entering the room. Usually, the masseuses she had dealt with in the past made some form of small talk before starting into their work. But this one said nothing at all and just began rubbing a thin warm oil onto her back. The woman's hands were small, but very strong - most professional massagers had hand strength - but Kelly had never felt anything quite like this. And a few minutes in, there was another feeling new to her in this situation ... arousal. Massages had always been pleasant, more often relaxing. And she would be lying if the momentary sexual thought hadn't flashed through her mind in these moments. But that's all they were, momentary and very much fantasy. Kelly was, on the spectrum of sexuality, largely indifferent to women. And as she hardened over time as her work life demanded, she was largely indifferent to men, but that was not biology - she desired them - as much as personality. But this was different. Very. Her arousal was a not a thought coming in and out of her brain, it was a growing, uncontrollable force. Her skin tingled at this woman's touch; her mind clouded with lust. She wanted her more than anything in the world. The masseuse rubbed Kelly's entire body with the warm oil, and without permission or a word, slid the towel covering Kelly onto the floor while intensely kneading her ass. With each touch the power of lust grew, and Kelly, despite being a woman of pure control, moaned. From the tiny window to the world that was the hole in the headrest, Kelly saw the massage therapist's clothes drop to the floor. She whimpered in anticipation. The woman she could not see slid herself fully onto Kelly's face down body, legs to legs, mound to ass, rubbing her large, impossibly pert breasts over Kelly's oiled back. "Mmmm," the woman breathed into Kelly's ear, "this is nice isn't it? You want more don't you? Say it." she demanded. Kelly complied, almost screaming out, "I want more!" The woman stood up, and the withdrawal of her body made Kelly plead for her to return. A moment passed before the woman was on top her again. But this time Kelly felt the unmistakable feel of a hard rubber cock, the woman was wearing a strap-on. She parted Kelly's butt cheeks and slid the dick up and down from top to bottom of Kelly's lubed crack while her hand worked the CEO's swollen wet clit, occasionally plunging it into her welcoming warm vagina. The masseuse's woman's lips were against her ear again. Her breath increased Kelly's heart rate. "Let's explore a new hole, shall we? Would you like that?" Kelly could not help herself. She whispered 'yes' to the thought of the hard rubber cock going in where not even a finger had been before. "Hold on Flower, this is really going to hurt ..." And as the stiff, rubber strap-on pushed unceremoniously into her ass, she screamed loudly with an painful joy almost too intense to withstand, orgasming in shuddering full body waves like nothing she had felt before. "If you want more my Love," the massage therapist said pushing her hair aside and kissing Kelly on the cheek, "you know where to find me. I'm on your campus every day. You made me." ++++++ Monica and Bethesda searched the entire spa to finally find Kelly sitting quietly, reflecting on the back steps of the building, lost in thought. They approached carefully uncertain at exactly what would happen next. Kelly's eyes narrowed when she saw them, but it was not quite anger that was on her face. They took a seat and sat quietly next to each other for a very long while. It was Kelly that finally spoke. "That was extreme. A violation." Bethesda nodded. It was embarrassing to be having such a conversation, but she pushed through. She chose her next words carefully, "Extreme. Yes. But ... did anything happen that you didn't ... want ... probably even beg for?" "No." The Counter Punch executive answer simply. "And even now, I still ..." Monica spoke, "We're sorry we did it this way. It was, as you said, extreme. But you had to know. You had to know in more than words, what you were heartlessly doing to Kayla and John Carroll and the countless others that you would have put into new trials. We ... and I'm really sorry to say it this way ... we simply made the dealer sample her drugs to see firsthand the damage it does, in this case the drug was simple massage oil and a bit of sweat." "And so you did, so you did," and for maybe the first time in her highly motivated directed life, she honestly asked the question, "I wonder what happens now?" ++++++ "No one would blame you if you left the planet for good. Earth betrayed you. The President betrayed you ... and as much as it broke my heart to do so ... I betrayed you. But you were never in this for adoration or cheers, you were in this because saving people is what you do. And so I ask, maybe one last time, will you save us again? Will you save Earth?" +++++ Kayla opened the apartment door to find Charles, Brittany and Laurie sitting at the kitchen table playing gin rummy. Kayla smiled; it was a game they use to play together back in simpler times when she was someone else. It had been almost two months since her neighbors had moved in, two months since the infamous dinner party. It was thought best to prolong the fiction and keep them around as to not completely upend Laurie's life. With Kayla deciding to shut the door on Coleman for the foreseeable future, stability was important. Laurie asked for none of this, and Kelly Latham's generous concessions aside, it was still a delicate situation for all the players involved. As the door closed behind her, all eyes turned in anticipation. No one dared say anything, but Kayla broke the ice. "I got the part. It's a god awful schlocky low budget superhero thing that will go straight to streaming and never see the inside of a theater, but it's a part. My first part!" Kayla reached into her bag pulled out a bottle of champagne. "Time to celebrate!" They all drank champagne and laughed warmly. "It's nice", Kayla thought, "they're nice," even if the entire thing including their friendship, was a house of cards built on a lie. But they made Laurie happy. The agitation, the anger, that was so readily apparent when Kayla first arrived in place of her boyfriend, had largely subsided. It popped up now and again but was much better now. And they may never be romantically involved again, but they were getting along and becoming friends. That was something. But not everything was perfect. Kayla noted Charles begin to fidget, before looking in her direction nervously. Brittany tightened imperceptibly. Although her expression didn't change, Kayla knew what this meant. When Laurie was fast asleep, Kayla after all this time was still on the couch, she would have to sneak across the hall to their apartment. If she didn't, Charles would slowly become a sweaty withdrawal ridden mess. The first few times she did this, Brittany left the apartment and sat in the stairwell. She after all understood this was out of everyone's control - an addiction - and never commented on it. But lately it had been so frequent she had taken to simply going into another room. Kayla wondered what the southern woman thought of the sounds of carnal passion she was regularly subjected to. She couldn't imagine this arrangement would be viable forever. Kayla pushed the thought away. That was a problem for another day. And today she liked being Kayla. Kayla was someone who was so much more than Connor could have ever been. Connor couldn't get a two-line commercial, but Kayla found an actual movie gig. And much more than that she enjoyed being a woman. The attention. The clothes. The makeup. And she deeply enjoyed the feeling of men plunging inside her. She even created a lie about a "vaginal operation" that only allowed for anal sex. But that too came with strings. Every man she slept with became one more on a circuit of men who must be pleased regularly or else they fall into a pit of despair. Everything in life was a tradeoff. And this was her tradeoff for being who she wanted to be. +++++ Monday mornings always came to quickly for Bethesda Harris. She loved her work, they were doing interesting things, but who schedules meetings the first working moment of the week? Walking through the door of the overdone office of the CEO, Bethesda noted Monica Paulson was already there. She amusingly wondered if Monica slept at all. But the two of them were more than colleagues now. Friends in the way that common goals, stress and trials bring people together. It was made easier now that things were different in the months since, what Bethesda and Monica privately called "The Massage", but officially known as a rethink of the initial skin suit design. It was more a collaborative effort at the company, no longer Kelly dictating her wishes down. Kelly was the driving force for ideas and innovation, Bethesda was the stand in for the rational mind, Monica, the conscious. Not standing on either pleasantries or ceremony, Bethesda launched right into it, "We've made significant progress on the project," after all that happened, the skin suit technology at this point was so sensitive it was never referred to directly. "We are unable to keep it from providing the wearer with ... additional pleasure. There is no way around that if we want them to have a sense of feeling while wearing it. But I think we've found a way to contain it within the suit. No more affecting other people with the drug or perspiration is what I mean." "That's excellent news," Monica chimed in. Bethesda nodded in her direction. Monica had been instrumental in restructuring the entire project. No more tests on males. No more long- term tests period, until they got the chemical leakage issue under control. On top of that she negotiated reparations for Kayla. A lifetime stipend as well as setting up a support system for Laurie in the form of the fake couple in their building. Most importantly, after much discussion and soul searching on Kayla's part, a life of skin suits. The one she wore now differed in that it lasted years not months and could be reapplied right at home with the equipment they gave her. But as she was a former male in a female suit with additional thick padding, coupled with the fact that removing her from a constant dose of the sensation creating chemicals would be psychologically damaging, there was no way to move her into the new less addictive suits they may create. Instead, she was taught strategies to minimize accidental dosing of others. But, still, if she were to have sex ... and they knew that was still happening ... Kelly, glancing at her phone for a moment as an text chimed in, rubbing her hand. "Have we found a way to reverse those who have been exposed to the leakage?" "No, but we are working tirelessly," she paused, "on a personal note, there is hope that it fades over time, if you're any indication. You show no sign of withdrawal whatsoever." It was a sensitive subject, especially as she was their boss, but the moment The Massage happened, Kelly became part of the data set. The CEO rubbed her hand again distractedly while muttering, "stupid carpal tunnel syndrome," then more loudly, "No, I managed to wean myself quite well. If that is all we'll meet next Monday morning as usual." The two women excused themselves from the room. Kelly picked up the phone, her fingers shook, and she had difficulty dialing. Without a greeting she said simply, "They're gone. Come in. Please hurry." The door swung open and the woman who entered locked it behind her. "Hello Kelly. Shall I get undressed right away? I brought a toy. I may even let you use it on me." Kelly rubbed her hand to hide the shaking. She did her best to keep an even tone, the voice of someone in charge. But it came out as a plea, "Please Kayla. Please." ++++ The End ++++