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Jean Wilmot joined her friend Bridget as usual in the lounge bar for an
aperitif before dinner. She was on the final leg of an extended round the
world trip, although Bridget had only joined the ship in New York for the
final leg of the voyage to Southampton, on the south coast of the UK.
They had got to know each other when they were invited as guests of the
Captain at his table the first evening out of port, both getting on so
well, especially when they discovered that they lived within a few miles
of each other. Because of this they made the shared table reservation for
the following nights until this, their last night on board. They were due
to arrive at their destination the next morning.
They placed their drinks order as Jean joined her friend at the table for
two she had already found. They became close enough to tell each other
about their lives and loves, even down to quite intimate details, Bridget
making no secret of the fact that she didn't like men. They chatted for a
while about inconsequential things, until Bridget asked her about her
marital status.
"How come that there's no Mr Wilmot in your life Jean?"
"No, there was but he disappeared just after I came into my fortune."
"Don't tell me he ran off with it?" She sounded shocked.
"Well no, I wouldn't have been able to afford this trip otherwise, would
I?" she leaned forward so others couldn't hear. "Actually it worked out
just right, if he'd known about it he would have ended up with half as a
divorce settlement."
The subject was dropped then but only until after their meal, accompanied
by fine wines as was the custom on a cruise ship of this standard. The
lounge had almost emptied as they sat there late, with old Cognacs and
chocolate mints.
"So how is your love life Jean?" Bridget asked. "I thought that I would
see some fine young eligible ladies on this trip, but apart from the crew
all the women are either accompanied or in their dotage."
"No such luck for me either I'm afraid, and I'm doubly disappointed
because I've been on this boat for a month and I've had to resort to the
purser, I've been that desperate." They both laughed, although the ship's
officer in question wasn't that old or bad looking. "I would have stayed
in Australia, there are some lovely hunks there, but I've been away from
England for nearly two years and I felt homesick. I know I could have
flown back, but I thought I'd just carry on round the world with cruise
ships, it's a good way of seeing it."
"Did you ever find out what happened to your husband Jean?"
"No, it was as if he disappeared into thin air, I was very lucky."
"What was he, a lazy bugger or a womaniser?" Bridget sounded interested
but Jean suddenly creased up with laughter.
"What's so funny?"
"If I tell you something, will you promise never to tell a soul?" for a
moment Jean was quite serious, although Bridget could hear that the
alcohol had got to her.
"Of course."
"My husband's name was Arthur and if you can imagine an Arthur, that
would be him. Oh, he was good to me, used to do a fair share of
housework, more than a fair share if I'm honest and his cooking was much
better than mine." Jean's mind somehow drifted off for a moment and
Bridget wondered if she was going to sleep, but with a start she carried
on. "He was even good in bed, insofar as he always made sure I was
satisfied,"
"He sounds like most women's dream husband," Bridget interjected.
"I suppose in many ways he was, but he was dull." She paused, then, "I
dreamt of a he-man catching hold of me and dragging me to bed and roughly
taking me. I'm afraid my Arthur would have been too worried about hurting
me, he was so gentle."
"So what happened?"
"Well," she took a deep breath and spoke slowly, "Arthur worked mainly
from home, he was one of those computer geeks, he earned decent enough
money, but he was always on the verge of making a fortune from some
programmes he was working on. I could never get him to take any
substantial time off, whatever spare time he had he spent working on
making our fortune that never came.
I worked in the city so I commuted and used to buy an evening paper to
read on the way home, at the same time I often bought something else that
took my fancy, sometimes it was a Lotto ticket, sometimes a Euromillions
ticket, other times some flowers, as I say, anything that took my fancy.
Anyway, one Tuesday I bought a couple Euromillions tickets then forgot
about them until I was in work the next day. I'd won the odd few pounds
or so from time to time, so I checked them and found one had hit the
jackpot. It was well over a hundred million and don't forget that's tax
free in the UK."
She paused while Bridget made wowing noises, the same as the very few
people that she had told in the past. Then she continued.
"At first I was as excited as anyone would be of course, then I got to
thinking of having a rave in the company of Arthur. The whole thing fell
flat."
"Don't tell me you had him bumped off?" Bridget asked.
"No, but I did remember a friend of mine, a girl called Alice, told me
about this company called 'No Problem Limited'. She'd told me about these
people who would solve any problem for the right money, she'd also been a
friend to a woman who knew the one who ran it. Without telling her why I
wanted it, I phoned Alice and managed to get their contact details.
Anyway the long and short of it was that I got in touch with them and
explained my problem, I must emphasise that I didn't want Arthur hurt and
I didn't want him penniless, but I did want him out of my life.
They proposed giving him a new identity, changing him beyond recognition
and would start him off in his new life. For their fee, which
incidentally was very expensive, they would guarantee that he would
remember nothing of me. He would just enjoy being the new person, but
that's why I laughed. He certainly isn't a womaniser, they told me that
they would have him operated on and make him a woman himself. They said
that if they did that, his new life would be so different from his old
one there'd be no chance of remembering anything."
With a good laugh they both turned in, Bridget telling Jean that she
would have a car waiting in Southampton, so she could give her a lift as
they both lived so close. They met up for breakfast, they'd had it in
their cabins until then, after which Bridget arranged their luggage to be
delivered to her car. It wasn't long before they were on the road for the
two hour journey to get home.
They had almost got there when Jean noticed that the driver was taking
them into the large County Town.
"Where's the driver going?" she asked Bridget.
"Oh he's just going via my office I'm afraid, allow me to properly
introduce myself, I am Detective Sergeant Bridget Howell of the county
police force." After giving it a moment to let it sink in, she added:
"Jean Wilmot I am arresting you for the kidnapping of Arthur Wilmot,
other charges may follow."
She concluded by giving her the formal arrest caution and placing
handcuffs round her wrists. Jean couldn't speak.
"I imagine that you would like to speak to a lawyer before your
interview, so I'm going to arrange for something you can do while you are
waiting."
They pulled up at the back entrance of the county police station and
Jean, still in shock, was taken via the custody suite to an interview
room where there was a large television on the end wall. She was sat down
in front of the screen, just showing the badge of the police force. A
uniformed woman police constable joined her and as Bridget left the room
she told Jean to look and listen.
First of all there was nothing, then a crackling sound and, while there
was still no picture, a recording started that was obviously a telephone
call:
"Is that Tricia Lamb? I hope you don't mind me phoning out of the blue,
but a friend of a friend gave me your number as someone who could solve a
problem for me."
"That's what we do Ms...?"
"Sorry, my name's Jean Wilmot, it's a bit complicated."
"That's not a problem Jean, go ahead and give me a potted version."
"I've just come into a great deal of money, but I'm married and frankly
bored. My problem is that if I divorce my husband, he'll end up with half
of it. Would you have another way to solve this problem?"
"Certainly, although you must understand that we aren't in the business
of killing people, but we can give them new lives. Tell me, whereabouts
do you live, is it locally?"
When she confirmed that she did, the woman continued:
"Call in and we can discuss the matter." She gave a address not far from
where they lived and they arranged to meet the following day, then the
conversation ended.
Jean cringed at the sound of her voice and couldn't bear to look at the
policewoman who was watching her, but it got worse as the screen
flickered into life and she recognised the office of the company 'No
Problem' and the woman owner, Tricia Lamb, walking in and taking her
seat. Jean followed and took the visitor's chair in front of the desk.
"We've dealt with your type of situation before, Jean, but first of all
would you tell me what you would envisage your husband doing, perhaps in
your widest dream of him."
"I don't really care what you do with him, but how can you guarantee that
dealing with him won't come back and bite me one day?"
"You are sure you don't mind us dealing with him in, how can I say, an
exotic way that might be rather unpleasant for him?"
"What you do with him matters not a jot to me, but I keep coming back to
the same question..."
Tricia Lamb interrupted her: "You want his memory of you completely wiped
from his mind?"
"Yes, if that's possible."
"Let me show you something, we'll have a coffee." She pressed a button on
her desk intercom. "Send Victoria in with the coffees."
In a short while there was a knock on the door and Tricia bid the person
enter. With a curtsey a third person entered with a tray holding two
coffees and a small plate of biscuits. They were dressed in a parody of a
black and white French maid's costume, her large bust pushing out of the
low cut top, and the skirt so short it was almost held horizontal by
crinolines under it and even left the front of a bright red pair of
panties visible.
"Ah, Victoria would you be so good as to tell this lady how long you've
been in my service?"
"Ever since I left school Mistress," the maid replied in a quiet breathy
voice and a curtsey.
"Have you ever done another job?"
"No Mistress." Another curtsey.
"Show this lady what you've got in your panties."
Without hesitation the maid pulled down what proved to be a g-string,
showing Jean a hair free area disappearing between the maid's legs, What
was missing was any sign of genitals. With a wave the maid was sent away.
"That used to be my husband Jean; Vincent was a trifle overbearing and I
am a plastic surgeon by profession. I only had to add brainwashing to my
repertoire and I had the perfect solution."
"That's amazing," was all Jean could say, "would you keep my Arthur here
as a maid?"
"No, I'd have no work for him here, but what I do have is a very
exclusive club for gentlemen, and a few ladies, that have what I would
describe as 'exotic tastes'. He would go to work there. He would have a
little more of his privates left to him, Victoria is only able to pee out
of an outlet in his perineum and is otherwise perfectly smooth, as you
saw, but my clients want to know that the person they hire used to be a
man.
He would lose his testicles of course, but would be left with a small
vestige of his penis, just to show he used to have one, but he wouldn't
be able to pleasure himself with it. It especially amuses the ladies I
know, to tease their maid by flaunting themselves in front of them, I
feed them a Viagra type of chemical to make sure they appreciate their
mistress.
The maids work in the club, but if the customer is prepared to pay a
premium they can hire any maid to take home with them. I've even sold one
or two, mainly to wealthy customers in the middle and far east."
"Would I be able to see him after the operations? I must admit that the
thought of it is quite a turn on."
"Certainly, if you want you can see him before we work on his thoughts,
it would even help us in a way, to put him in the frame of mind that he
has no alternative. Then afterwards you can avail yourself of the club if
you wish, there is an annual subscription but it's reduced a little for
those who have donated fresh meat. Not that the price should worry you,
but we charge an initial fee of five million pounds for what you want. I
know that's a lot of money, but where else could you get a divorce for
less than ten times that price?"
"How soon could you go ahead and what are the time scales?" Jean asked.
"We could collect the patient tomorrow and you could see him again in
about three weeks, that will be after all the bruising from the
operations have died down, then he should be ready to work in the club in
about four months. We do require payment up front though.
Incidentally there are a couple of side benefits we provide, the first is
a divorce, that makes sure there are no complications should you decide
to remarry, the other is we can launder your money through a Swiss bank
account, so that you in effect also disappear. That means that in years
to come, if something happens and it were to go wrong, if anyone tries to
trace you through a money chain, no one will be able to. Those services
are included in the price."
"The money will be in my account tomorrow, so if you give me your bank
details, I'll do the transfer of funds straight away."
The picture faded and the badge returned.
In the police station interview room the only sound for a couple of
minutes was that of Jean quietly sobbing. The screen then came alive
again, showing in quite gruesome detail, the operations done on a man
who, once they started work on his face, was quite clearly Arthur. A
small legend at the bottom right of the screen said 'sound track off'.
It was at this point she was joined by a man who introduced himself as
Ian Phelps, her solicitor and once he arrived, the police officer left
the room. He suggested that she watch to the end of the film before they
discussed the implications, pointing out that he'd already seen the
transcript summary on his way over.
The sound came on and the view was of the same office as before, again
Tricia entered followed by herself, Jean was able to work out that the
camera must have been motion activated. They took the same seats as
before.
"I've sent for Bambi, yes he used to be your husband."
Jean explained to the woman that she intended to travel for some time but
would contact her about club membership once she was back in the country.
Then there was a knock on the door.
Having been given permission, three people entered, two of them large
women, large in the sense of being tall and with big muscles, the third
was a younger girl in a short pink skirt and sheer white blouse that did
nothing to disguise a huge pair of breasts held in a push up bra. Jean
realised that it was Arthur, but his waist was miniscule and his face
barely recognisable, having a wide eyed appearance that would have looked
innocent if it wasn't for her 'cock-sucker' lips and long wavy platinum
blond hair. His legs seemed to go on forever and they tottered along on
heels that must have been six inches high at least.
"Curtsey to your benefactors Bambi," one of the women told him.
He curtseyed but at the same time whispered so she could barely hear him.
"Jean, what have you done? Why?"
For that 'outburst' as they described it, both of his guards laid into
him with riding crops that they had been carrying in holsters attached to
their belts. He screamed and collapsed on the floor but they continued to
beat him.
As he rolled, the video showed that Jean had caught a glimpse of his
empty scrotum and a penis barely more than an inch or so long. It also,
tellingly, showed that rather than sympathy she was amused.
"My God," she said, "I remember on my wedding night that I thought his
penis was so large it might hurt me, I must admit I do miss that."
"Well it's too late to get it back now," Tricia told her then asked his
guards to take him away to continue his lessons. "I must admit that I was
surprised when I saw his size. In fact if it hadn't been for the
financial consideration I might have taken him on for myself, I could
certainly have taught him how to use that tool of his."
"Oh, he used it alright," said Jean rather wistfully, "I've had a couple
of men since he's been gone and they've been very disappointing. Still,
at least I've got my money to console me."
The police station screen then followed up with more extreme
embarrassment for Jean. The scene was a bedroom with a person that Jean
realised was her ex-husband, dressed in a white basque, stockings and six
inch heels but no panties, standing beside the bed. The door opened and a
huge fat man entered, smoking a cigar.
"I hope you're worth what I paid to go first with you Bambi," he said,
"you can start by undressing me."
There then followed pictures of him being forced, that was quite obvious,
to give the man an oral climax, of which he swallowed every drop. The
pictures showed that he was retching, but wasn't actually sick. Then he
had to lie on the bed with the man, licking his penis until it regained
its interest. The man got off the bed, roughly pulled the maid round and
entered his back passage. He begged and screamed but it was no use, the
man carried on until he was satisfied.
"Not bad Bambi, now go and get yourself ready the way you were told."
While Bambi was in the bathroom, the man dressed himself and left the
room, to be replaced by two more. When Bambi came back, they 'spit
roasted' him, as they described it. One took him from the rear, the other
had him work with his mouth and remarkably, they both came at exactly the
same time. Bambi cleaned himself ready for the next customer, a fairly
young man, perhaps in his twenties, who again took his rear.
The video went on like this for some half an hour, all the further scenes
edited so they just showed how each customer used him, not the entrances
and exits, so in that time more than twenty men had appeared.
The video ended with Tricia coming into the room.
"I'm very pleased with you Bambi, I think it will only be about six
months before I've doubled the money I got from your wife, but you've
only been working for six hours tonight, from tomorrow you'll be working
four hours in the afternoons as well. Now have a thorough shower and go
to sleep, I know you must be tired."
She left the room and the only sound was of Bambi spewing up into the
lavatory, then eventually getting into bed naked, the microphone picking
up his sobbing and it was with this that the film ended.
"What have you got to tell me Ms Wilmot?" the lawyer asked. "Is this film
in any way a distortion of what happened?"
"No." She spoke so quietly that he had to get her to repeat it.
"Do you realise the number and seriousness of the charges they are going
to bring against you?"
"I didn't actually do anything," she whispered, hopefully.
"I'm afraid it makes no difference." he pulled out a sheet of paper.
"They propose to charge you with conspiracy of the following; fraud,
kidnapping, false imprisonment, administering noxious substances,
grievous bodily harm, people trafficking, prostitution, rape, theft,
false submission of official documents and money laundering. Most of
those will be duplicated in a civil claim made on behalf of your
husband."
"Are they able to use that video? I didn't consent to it," she asked.
"I'm afraid that your husband's plight came to light when the police were
investigating the disappearance of another man. It seems that for their
security all the rooms in the 'No Problem' company's offices and
surgeries were secretly bugged by themselves, to make sure they weren't
infiltrated. A friend of the other missing man was told by his wife what
she?d done with her husband and when they raided the offices they got
hold of all the discs before they could be destroyed.
I understand that they had trouble tracing you, it took a long time, but
when they had a fair idea that you were on that cruise ship, they sent a
woman detective to befriend you and confirm who you were. I understand
they are still trying to trace a couple of other wives, but they?ve got
most of them. The whole operation is being kept secret until they have
all the wives in custody, so your criminal and civil cases will be heard
?in camera?, that?s in secret, so it doesn?t tip the remaining wives off.
But I must warn you that unless you can come up with a credible excuse
you can expect a long custodial sentence.?
?How long do you think?? she asked but not really wanting to hear the
answer.
?Well I?m afraid that three or four of their charges carry a potential
life sentence. I think that the only way you have to mitigate the full
weight of the law is to offer some major financial restitution.? He
flicked through the papers he had. ?I understand you cashed in the
lottery ticket that your husband bought??
?Well I was his wife, I was entitled.?
?You didn?t buy the ticket, did you? In spite of a statement you made to
that police woman, before you knew who she was.?
?Well, no.?
?It should have been your husband who claimed on it. That?s where the
fraud charge comes from. How much do you have left??
?There?s still about ninety seven million, the interest comes in almost
quicker than I?ve been able to spend it.?
?Is there anything you can think of that I can put forward in mitigation,
I can?t in all honesty advise you to do anything other than to plead
guilty when it comes to court, but anything you can think of, let me
know. For now you are going to be remanded in custody, they deem you a
flight risk because you have substantial foreign funds.
I?m going to have to leave you now, I need to find out what your
husband?s solicitors are thinking of as civil damages, I?ll let you know
the outcome as soon as I can. The police will wish to question you. You
must tell them that you will make no comment on every question, until I
get back with more information for you.
I?ll tell the police that is what I?ve advised, so they?ll probably wait
but only pending more information, is that OK??
Jean agreed and she was shown back into a cell where all she could do was
cry her eyes out.
Time passed slowly for her, but outside other things were happening and
two days later her solicitor was back.
?I have some news but I must confess that I don?t understand it.? Mr
Phelps opened his briefcase and took out two thick files. ?It seems that
your husband?s advisers say that he isn?t interested in having any of
your money, instead he wants to set up a charity to help spouses of
either sex when they have been battered or otherwise abused. The first
priority is to compensate other victims of Mrs Lamb and her associates.
It seems that much of the huge resources of that woman?s company will be
confiscated as proceeds of crime, so even making them penniless will not,
in their view, adequately compensate their other victims. Their proposal
is that you retain the value of your old house and a small sum,
sufficient for you until you find a job after your release from prison.
All your other assets are to go to setting up this fund of theirs and
they will administer it.
As I say, I can?t understand it, he apparently has expressed a wish never
to take anything from you for himself.?
With that agreed Jean was eventually taken before the court and pleaded
guilty but submitted the mitigating act of setting up the charity in the
way demanded. As a result of that her sentence amounted to some twelve
years, of which she would serve only six with good behaviour, then be
released on licence for the rest of her life.
Tricia Lamb wasn?t so lucky, she got life with a minimum of twenty five
years and her staff also got very severe sentences, as did the other
wives of men who had been operated on.
Jean was sent to a women?s prison generally regarded as being not too
onerous, but she?d hardly got established in their routine when she had a
request for an Antonia Howell to visit her.
She agreed, remembering that the surname of her Detective Sergeant captor
was Howell, and thinking that perhaps she was visiting but didn?t want it
known.
When her visitor arrived it was someone she didn?t know. It was an
extremely smart woman, who she recognised was wearing a designer outfit
that must have cost a small fortune.
?Don?t you recognise me Jean??
The penny dropped but she still couldn?t be a hundred percent certain.
?Arthur??
?Not any more,? she said. ?After I was turned into Bambi I was in abject
misery, I?m told that you saw just a little of the degradation I had to
suffer but I?m not here to talk about that. I want to explain something.
You remember Sergeant Bridget? Well after I was rescued from that club, I
spent months in recovery and at one stage it was thought I?d always be a
clinically depressed bimbo. However, at one of the sessions I had with
the sergeant, while she was trying to take my statement, she happened to
notice that I was fixated on her laptop and she passed it over for me to
see it.
Instead of just looking I typed in my old cloud passwords and pulled up
the work I?d been doing on those programmes I was always talking to you
about. A lot of my memories came back with that simple operation and from
then on I started to make a full recovery. Not physically of course, my
male body had been ruined, but mentally working again allowed me to
regain my sanity. In about three months I?d finished many of the
programmes and aps I?d been working on. I really had been very close to a
breakthrough when I was kidnapped.
Incidentally, it was me that was able to do enough with their computers
to track down most of the women who used the No Problem business,
including you. Mrs Lamb should have realised that in this day and age
it?s rarely possible to just disappear, especially if you are rich enough
not to be able to carry it around in hard cash..
Anyway, with a great deal of professional help and I must say, the
support of Bridget, I came to terms with my body and had a full re-
alignment surgery done. I formed a company to market my programmes and
very soon became what is often referred to as a ?dot-com? millionaire. In
less than a year I made more money than I won on that damnable lottery
ticket. Bridget has retired from the police and we got married so I took
her surname, we both liked Antonia as a name so that?s who I?ve become. I
think she told you words to the effect that she has lesbian tendencies.
I wanted you to know that by this time next year, with another couple of
things in the pipe line, I?m selling up and retiring myself as I
anticipate being a billionaire. I already have holiday homes in France,
the States and Australia. That?s the reason that I didn?t want anything
to do with the lottery money. I didn?t need it.
It?s also the reason that I?ve made sure you have a home to come out to.
I?ve seen the results of people who?ve got all bitter and twisted and I
don?t like what I?ve seen. Apart from that, your scheme enabled me to
meet and marry someone that I?m head over heels in love with. I think you
and I were married too young and although I believed it at the time, I
don?t think either of us were truly in love, we just got by with each
other.
Bear that in mind when you?re released, perhaps you?ll find someone
yourself.?
With that she got up and left.
Antonia may have claimed that she didn?t bear a grudge, but the result of
her visit was that Jean cursed herself for the rest of her life.
Marisol
- 26.09.2022
- 11
- 0
