XV: Bullchester Dermis Blues
It was during the clinic's visiting hours that Tamara felt the most
tense. So far, she had an intriguing array of visitors. She was
particularly happy, thus far, to have seen Maggie Katzhoff. Knowing she
was back in town made the plus-sized secretary feel a little more
empowered, seeing as how the self-styled Devil of Bullchester was
basically her rock when it came to dealing with the developing
conspiracy.
Tamara had expected, at some point, to see Rita Noble step through the
door during her stay so she could once again gloat over the power the
debutante's influence had on the former boy. That she was coming close
to the end of her recovery period, with the bandages finally coming off
the day after tomorrow, was a blessing.
But Rita still had time to ruin Tamara's recovery period. Perhaps even
make her stay longer so she could make her prized slut a she-male once
again.
The nature of Grace's visit certainly surprised Tamara. She had no idea
that Grace would hint at deeper feelings for her. Ever since the
beautifully golden-haired former man suggested that she wanted Tamara to
be her maid at the Lees Mansion, the thought lingered on the secretary's
mind.
There was also the matter of Tamara's potentially rough, but undeniably
stimulating weekend liaisons with Olivia Tench, which would start
happening once she was back in the work grind. What kind of effect would
those secret facesitting sessions have on Tamara's sanity, she had to
wonder? The worst possible consequence of such visits would be that the
plus-sized former boy would sink deeper down into Rita Noble's rabbit
hole, and if it were ever revealed that Rita had anything to do with
Olivia's interest in Tamara...
The door to her room opened once more. A bit of girlish giggling
preceded this.
Tamara felt a sense of relief wash over her as a dark-haired Elizabeth
Zambrano pushed open the door. Once her eyes found Tamara's, she flashed
her beautiful smile. Following her in were a pair of very pretty-looking
young girls, one of which had a blond, fashionably-dressed doll in her
hands.
"Good morning, Tamara!" Elizabeth chimed as she stepped up to the
bedside, immediately grasping one of the plus-sized woman's hands
affectionately. "I figured I'd surprise you today. Dr. Drake told me
that your nasal canals are sensitive, so I don't want you to say a
single word." She then pulled a tablet computer out of her shoulder-
slung bag. "I brought this to help you communicate with us. Just type in
whatever you want to say. It's already on the WordProc app."
One of the little girls...the one holding the doll...looked at Tamara's
heavily-bandaged head warily. "She looks scary, Mama."
"She needs to heal, Sofia," the other girl explained. "They did a lot of
work on her face."
Sofia now looked curious. "What was wrong with her face?" she innocently
asked, looking to her mother.
Elizabeth shrugged, smiling. "Blemishes."
Tamara began tapping out her first message on the tablet, pressing her
finger lightly at the onscreen keyboard. The size of the fonts were
large enough to be easily readable. She then turned the tablet around so
Sofia could read it.
I want to look as pretty as the doll you brought with you!
Sofia smiled upon reading, and understanding, the message.
"Tamara Portnoy, this is Sofia..." She gestured to the girl with the
doll...
...who smiled, and waved. "Hi."
"...and this is Isabella." Elizabeth indicated the other, more smartly-
dressed girl.
She responded with a curtsey. "Buenos dias, Senorita Tamara."
Nice to meet you both!
Elizabeth pulled a seat up close to the side of the bed so she could sit
right beside it. "Sooo...a couple more days before we get to see Tamara
2.0?"
More like 2.5. :)
Elizabeth nodded. "Oh..." she then indicated her hair. "...this is my
natural hair color."
You look great. As always. So do your daughters.
"Mmm. My two little angels," Liz purred. "They kept asking about you, so
I had to bring them along."
I'm really happy you came, Mrs. Zambrano.
Liz smiled wide. "Have you been getting many visitors?"
A few.
"What about...that...woman we both met at the party?" Liz curiously
asked.
Tamara shook her head.
Madame Grace came by, though.
"Yeah, she told me she would stop by," Liz replied upon reading Tamara's
response on the tablet. "I even heard her suggest that you would be
coming to live with her at Lees Mansion."
It took a moment before Tamara typed her next thoughtful inquiry.
Do you think I should, Mrs. Zambrano?
Liz shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. I mean, I'm teaching debutantes there,
and...well, the place is big enough. It may have just been an off-handed
comment, but...you never can tell with her."
She always knows what's best for me.
"Yeah." Liz nodded slowly. "Me too." She then gestured to Tamara's face
wrappings. "So this was Madame Grace's idea?"
Tamara shook her head.
Can I explain later, Mrs. Zambrano?
Liz nodded again, smiling. "Of course." She then remembered the snippet
of news Grace wanted the single mother to relay to Tamara. "Oh...by the
way, Madame Grace wanted me to tell you that your attorney friend won
that court trial against that disgusting redneck."
Tamara made the mental leap to Larry as she nodded, and then typed out
her response.
I'm not surprised.
"Did he come by to visit?" Liz asked.
No.
Liz shrugged. "Maybe he would rather see you with the bandages off."
"Does it hurt?" Isabella then asked, out of the blue, indicating
Tamara's face.
Tamara smiled as she tapped her response.
Nope! But if I talk, I'll sound like a silly cartoon character.
Sofia then held up her doll as Isabella giggled. "Can they make me look
like Selena?"
You don't think you look pretty now, Sofia?
Sofia shrugged. "I dunno. I guess."
I think you both look VERY pretty. I don't think you and Isabella need
to change anything about your appearances.
"See? I TOLD you!" Isabella chided to Sofia, who smirked in response as
the older child looked to Tamara. "She never believes me!"
Awww, that's not fair! You should trust each other. That would make your
mother and I very happy.
A knock at the door interrupted the pleasantries, and a smiling Dr.
Parker Drake walked in. "Sorry to interrupt, but...there's something I
need to check." Liz gave the dark-haired Doctor enough space to check on
her patient. The plastic surgeon brought up a pen light. "Open wide,
dear."
As Liz and her children waited, Dr. Drake examined Tamara's nasal area.
She pulled out a metal implement and she seemed to use this to gently
prod at an area inside her mouth.
"Mmmm, yeah...should be completely stable," the Doctor concluded as she
pulled away. She then noticed the tablet. "Oh...is this how you've been
communicating with your guests?"
Tamara nodded.
"Well, you can put that away then, because the nasal area should be
stable enough for casual communication," Dr. Drake reported. "Why don't
you read off that message to your young friends before you do?"
Tamara cleared her throat and began to recite with her natural voice.
"Awww, that's not fair! You should trust each other. That would make
your mother and I very happy."
Dr. Drake nodded upon hearing her plus-sized patient recite the message
without any verbal handicaps. "Good, good. Did that hurt to say at all?
I mean, physically?"
Tamara shook her head.
"OK, then!" Dr. Drake responded, smiling. "Get back to flaunting that
voice box of yours. If you have any issues, give me a buzz."
"Thank you, Doctor," Tamara gingerly replied as Dr. Drake left her room.
The plus-sized woman felt relieved that she was no longer a mute.
Sofia tilted her head to the side, smiling. "You sound nice."
"Awww, thank you, Sofia," Tamara sweetly replied, smiling back as Liz
beamed.
"Thank the Goddess they got to hear what you sound like," Liz observed,
affectionately rubbing at Tamara's shoulder.
"Now I owe them a face to go with it," Tamara mused. "Something
less...Mummy."
Isabella had to giggle at this. "Mommy and Mummy...!" Sofia also found
this funny enough to giggle over.
Tamara moaned, reaching her arms out, emulating the fictional mummy
monster as Liz raised her hands and pretended to be a frightened victim,
which made Sofia and Isabella giggle more in their mutual amusement.
"Okay, sweeties. Tamara needs her rest." She gestured to the room's
door. "You'll see her again, though. Without her bandages."
"Mmm-hmm." Tamara nodded, smiling. "I won't be a scary mummy anymore. I
hope you like what you see, though."
"I think I will," Sofia sweetly assured. "I think you're nice."
"What about you, Isabella?" Elizabeth asked. "What do you think of
Tamara?"
The older girl took a moment to think before answering.
She then shrugged, smiling. "I'll tell you when the bandages come off."
The little girl then offered a wave. "Adios, Senorita Tamara."
"Bye!" Sofia chimed as they went out the door. Liz let them know that
she would join them in a moment.
Once it closed behind them, Elizabeth returned to Tamara's bedside, but
she saw that Tamara was on her feet, and the two tightly embraced each
other.
Their lips then lovingly connected in the next moment in a long and
passionate kiss.
When they pulled away, they pressed their foreheads together, still in
each other's arms. "Come by the Mansion when you get out. I really wanna
see what you look like before they do. I don't wanna have to dream about
it."
Tamara nodded. "I hope you like what you see, Mrs. Zambrano."
Elizabeth smiled. "If I don't, I'll just put you back in here and remake
you the way I want you to be."
Tamara smiled back over this thought. "As you wish, Mrs. Zambrano."
"By the way..." The single mother's lips moved close to Tamara's right
ear as a hand went to suggestively squeeze at Tamara's breast. "...I'm
gonna drink more of your milk when you come by. I miss the taste."
Tamara blushed. "You can drink as much as you like, Mrs. Zambrano."
Elizabeth's lips remained near her ear. "Mmm. I hear a Milk Bath does
wonders for the body. We should share one."
The notion definitely excited the plus-sized woman. "As long as you're
on top, Mrs. Zambrano."
"Alwaaaaysssss." Elizabeth hissed, alluringly, into Tamara's ear. She
continued to purr in the former boy's ear. "Nothing but candlelight...
sprinkle rose petals on the surface...burn some spicy, sweet-smelling
incense..." Her lips now hovered over Tamara's. "...and I can luxuriate
while you tend to my every need."
Tamara's loins stirred with excitement once again. "Yes, Mrs. Zambrano."
"And if Madame Grace joins us..." Elizabeth's hands rubbed at Tamara's
large breasts. "...we'll both tend to her, because she always knows
what's best for both of us."
Tamara nodded slowly. "Yes, Mrs. Zambrano."
Their lips pressed together lovingly once again, lingering a long and
passionate kiss before Elizabeth stepped away, keeping her eyes on
Tamara with an alluring smile on her lips as she slipped out of the
room.
Tamara returned to her bed to relax, with images of herself and
Elizabeth kneeling submissively before Madame Grace forming in her mind
as she relaxed.
They both had collars around their necks, as well.
* * *
"Put those on."
The Mistress Voce had thrown down a pair of stretchy lycra garments that
had the appearance of swimsuits. Lowell Bunton and Scotty Griggs looked
down at them curiously, and they then reached down to hold them up.
They confirmed that they were indeed swimsuits, and backless ones at
that. The top halves would be held up by a turtleneck-like collarpiece,
while the rest of the garment would cover their chests, and their
privates. The garment in Lowell's hands was a bright orange color, while
Scotty's swimsuit was a neon pink.
Voce giggled. "I knew which colors you'd both take."
"You expect us to..." Lowell stopped himself, realizing the risk in
speaking angrily. "...I-I mean...do we have to wear these??"
"The alternative is to stay naked," Voce shot back. "That may work for
the guy porn clubs, but that's not what I have in mind for the both of
you."
"What do you have in mind for us??" Scotty whined, in a voice that was
slightly higher than the one he had before Voce had administered one of
the two stolen Tear Ducts while they slept.
"That's for me to know," Voce answered, "and for you to figure out."
Scotty sighed fretfully, drooping his shoulders. Apparently, the serum
was taking effect on him sooner than the masked dominatrix imagined.
Lowell seemed to be fighting it, but she knew his resistance wouldn't
last. She knew the Sisterhood's serums would win the battle with his
psyche. Their bodies were already beginning to look a little slimmer
since the last time Voce fed them.
Despite their reservations, Voce's sharp hand gestures and snaps
indicated that she wanted them to put the swimsuits on. She was within a
second of uttering the trigger phrase when they finally relented and
stepped into the leg holes of the soft, thin, stretchy, one-piece
garments.
Scotty seemed to react more favorably to it compared to Lowell. The
pale-skinned man rubbed his hands slowly along the surfaces of the
swimsuit, feeling oddly stimulated over wearing something he had never
remotely imagined himself wearing prior to his being dosed.
Although Lowell wasn't completely disgusted over the look and the feel
of his orange swimsuit, his expression reflected his more neutral
feelings over wearing something that was designed for a woman. He didn't
like it, but...he couldn't bring himself to hate it, either.
"Mmm...this is not all that bad, is it?" Scotty chimed to Lowell.
Scotty's response was an ice-cold expression from Lowell. The pale-
skinned man shrank back a bit over this response.
Voce deviously smiled. I sense a dynamic forming between these two. She
thought to herself. I just hope Lowell doesn't get too violent with the
little sweetpea Scotty is becoming.
"Answer your friend's question, Lowell," Voce firmly commanded. "Or,
would you rather hear the 'P' word again?"
Scotty already reacted frightfully over this possibility. He turned his
head to Lowell with a pleading expression.
"S'OK," Lowell murmured.
"SPEAK UP, MARINE," Voce demanded.
"OK! OK! It don't suck!" Lowell answered in his relent, raising his
hands.
Voce smirked. "Get used to it, because it's all you're going to be
wearing for a while as you both...develop." She began to slowly pace
around them. "Truth is, I haven't really figured out what I'm going to
do with you both, but...whatever I decide to do, I obviously can't have
you doing it as men."
"So...is this gonna be some kind of radical disguise, or something?"
Lowell asked.
Voce had to stifle a giggle. "You could say that."
"Is this all we're gonna be wearing?" Scotty asked.
"For the time being," Voce replied. "Now...you can impress the shit out
of me by doing a bit of cleaning around here." She gestured to all of
the food-based clutter on the floor, remnants of some of the stuff Voce
had left for them during their imprisonment.
Lowell, however, gestured to a nearby garbage bin, which was completely
full. "No room."
Voce tilted her head. "Did you expect moi to pull the bag, tie it up,
and take it out? Noooo, no, my dears...one of you is going to pull out
that bag and tie it up, or you're going to be feeling some very serious
PAIN."
Lowell and Scotty howled in agony as they both collapsed, writhing as
their muscles felt like they were on fire. This lasted for a good five
minutes as Voce turned around and began to leave them to their
suffering.
Scotty's cries sounded a little more high-pitched than it used to be.
"Here endeth the lesson," were the last words of the self-styled...and
disguised...Devil of Bullchester before coming out of the basement.
* * *
"As I have repeated more than once, Madame Noble...and with all due
respect, of course..." The young Loris Executive Nathan Barrows had to
choose his words carefully, while giving them the necessary edge as the
impromptu Stock Analysts meeting continued. "...the decrease in focus on
what can more or less be considered masculine commodities could cause a
steady, but significant decline in our longterm profits as a
corporation. If we're going to survive in the long run, we seriously
need to even the scales a little more."
"Yes." Nathan's friend, Simon Callahan, nodded in agreement.
Naturally, the rest of the Loris International Executive Board...of
which Nathan and Simon were the only remaining male members...simply
listened, and kept quiet once the men, who Rita had kept on as business
assets that no longer mattered to her, were finished speaking.
Nathan kept his eyes on Rita, determined to defend his point even if it
meant endangering his job. Simon's gaze went between Nathan and Rita as
a slight smile crept onto the shapely CEO's full lips.
Rita, however, had been discreetly alerted to Agatha's own longterm plan
not just for Bullchester, but for the world as well. Soon, the male
equation would significantly decrease. Soon, the male equation would be
as insignificant as the abacus in comparison to the personal computer.
Soon, G.I. Joe would be pushed aside in favor of a renaissance of the
Barbie brand.
"As always, your analysis is welcomed, Mr. Barrows," Rita began. "And,
as always, we will take it under advisement. As seriously as we always
have."
Nathan had heard this line before. The last time he had given such a
reminder, in fact. He had to openly sigh in frustration.
"Is...there a problem, Mr. Barrows?" Rita warily asked.
He now felt the weight of all the eyes in the room as Nathan looked back
up at Rita.
The young executive cleared his throat before he answered. He kept his
tone as even as possible. "Sorry, Madame Noble, but...this isn't the
first time I've heard that. One would expect the dialogue to continue at
some point. That you'd step away and actually give this some thought.
But as with the other occasions in which I've brought it up, nothing has
changed, and I suspect that nothing will."
Rita's smile widened as she continued gazing at one of the two new
guinea pigs she had in mind for Vije, who sat alongside her at the long
table. Her eyes then turned to Simon Callahan. "And...how do you feel
about this, Mr. Callahan?"
Simon blinked as he nervously stared back at Rita Noble, a woman who he
never openly admitted to having a crush on. He always found her
amazingly attractive, and he had been trying to keep from staring
longingly at her during meetings. Occasionally, Rita gave Simon an
appreciative gesture...a wink, or even a bit of a smile...whenever she
caught him staring.
"Well..." Simon cleared his throat as Rita exposed some of the cleavage
evident in the open area of the tight red lycra blouse she wore under
her black bolero jacket "...Nate and I went over the figures more than
once, and the calculations and the fi...um, figures don't lie. We could
see an economic downcurve...I mean, downturn if we can't maintain a
parity between our masculine and feminine commodities."
"Which is precisely why the woman next to me is here." Rita rose up from
her seat, gesturing to the alien-looking waif next to her. "I know that
those of you who went to the Pink Persuasions party might have already
met this tall drink of water here, but for the sake of those who
haven't..." She quickly glanced to Nathan and Simon as she said this.
"...this is Vije Nastassje, the Chief Executive Officer of Karelian
Cosmetics. As of next week, she will be entering into a merger agreement
with Loris."
"Karelian...Cosmetics," Nathan disdainfully repeated. "From the very
sound of this, it's going against my point, Madame Noble. You're still
catering to..."
"Man use Body Wash, yes?" Vije interjected, rising to her feet and in so
doing, revealing how much taller she was compared to Rita, who didn't
look intimidated at all. "Men, women use soap bar? Sunscreen? Shampoo
clean man hair? Karelian have product for all deez. All test for safety,
too. Nature ingredient. Always nature ingredient. Always keep clean.
Both sex."
Nathan, who found himself staring at Vije despite his skepticism, still
felt compelled to challenge the oddly alluring-looking woman. "And...I
suppose that's why your skin looks like a shiny plastic surface? Like a
doll's skin?"
The corners of Vije's lips curled upward as she ran a hand, slowly, down
one arm. "You like?"
"That's...not my point, Miss Nastassje," Nathan shot back. "You say that
Karelian products are safe, and they have natural ingredients, yadda,
yadda, yadda...does that extend to whatever manner of product, assuming
it is a Karelian-based product, is giving your skin such an...unusual
appearance?"
"I use this product myself, Mr. Barrows," Rita noted. "If you mean to
imply that Karelian products have unforeseen side effects, I assure you
that product history has been considered prior to the merger notion.
They provide the benefits that they are advertised to offer without any
harmful or unforeseen side effects whatsoever."
"And has product ratio been considered?" Nathan challenged yet again.
"Percentage of female-based product to those primarily intended for
males?"
"You do...catch?" Vije asked.
The question caught Nathan off-guard. He frowned in confusion as Vije
pulled something out of a pocket of her skin-tight dress. She then
gestured as if to throw.
"What...you have something for me to look at?" Nathan asked. "Like a
free sample?"
"You catch." She then tossed the cylindrical black plastic object, which
Nathan was forced to bounce around a bit in his attempts to catch it.
Once he was able to grasp it, he looked at the label.
It was indeed body wash, and it was clearly labeled 'for men'.
"You use. Tonight." She pulled another one out and tossed it to Simon.
"Here. One for you friend."
The puck-like black container bounced off Simon's forehead before he
caught it with both hands.
"This...is good for one use, right?" Simon asked.
Vije nodded. "You want more? You buy."
Nathan checked the container, warily, to see if the package was properly
sealed. He felt a little more at ease when he saw that the seals were
indeed where they were supposed to be. The container did not look like
it was tampered with.
"You use, then I pick you up for work tomorrow," Vije explained. "You
tell me how you feel on trip to work, yes?"
Nathan glanced curiously at Simon, who shrugged. "Sounds fair to me,
Nate," Simon added, sounding agreeable.
The young stock analyst, who had a mullet of brown hair, nodded as his
eyes turned to Vije. "Okay. I'll use this tonight. Let's hope I don't
melt away in my sleep."
Vije let out an infectiously sweet giggle. "You funny. Vije like."
A smiling Rita gave Simon an appreciative wink, which as always made the
young executive blush deeply.
Shelley Portnoy, who also sat near Rita, observed the confrontation with
some amusement, and began to wonder if the two male executives would
someday undergo the same irreversible fate as the colorfully cute
secretary trainee that used to be Leland Hall.
Unbeknownst to all save for Rita and Vije, however, the catalysts for
change were already resident in the free samples Nathan Barrows and
Simon Callahan had been given. It was just a matter of taking the pre-
prepared samples...with DNA-matched feminization serum infusions in
each...to the Bullchester factories to be sealed and cleansed of
fingerprints.
For all the two executives knew, these were fresh, untainted samples of
Karelian Body Wash For Men.
All that remained was for the two men to actually use them.
* * *
6:00 pm was essentially Leonard Hardcastle's tea time. The tea had to be
prepared just right to satisfy the tall, bald, and brown-skinned master
of the house.
Kelly Sherman...who had become a little more plush-bodied...had the
routine down to a science quickly, with a little help from Leonard's
personal plaything, Walda Pickering, who was practically Kelly's bestie
by now.
Before and after this time, Kelly watched the prototypes struggle
through their training regimen. It got to the point where Prototype A
preferred teasing and tormenting Prototype B. The both of them, since
the last bullying incident they were punished for, had left Kelly alone.
Whenever she walked into the same room they were tending to, they
offered simple greetings, and that was it.
Since that day, Walda got a bit merciless with the formerly male
prototypes. She discreetly made the messes that the Prototypes needed to
clean up. Sometimes, when they finished a room and went into another
part of the house, Walda would slip in like a mischievous imp and make a
mess of things once again. She'd then slip out before their return, and
delight to their reactions as they went over their own work once again.
"It's just what those two jerks deserve!" was the reason Walda always
gave for her antics whenever Kelly felt a bit of sympathy for the
prototypes.
With the tray of clean teacups, each with saucers under them, and the
full teapot steaming from the spout, Kelly carefully stepped over to
Leonard Hardcastle's bedroom.
As she neared the closed door, she could hear Walda's moaning and
panting. Clearly, the former science aspirant was being pleasured in
such a way that she was crying out in sheer ecstasy.
When Kelly went into the room, she saw Walda hugging Leonard, who was
sitting on the bed. The both of them were completely naked, and the bald
black man had a couple of fingers buried in the former scientist's
posterior.
Leonard grinned upon seeing Kelly come in, and then wiggled his buried
fingers as his eyes lingered on the plus-sized house maid. Walda
quivered, and let out a purely ecstatic noise. She also tightened her
hug.
"Hello, Kelly," Leonard began, still deviously smiling. "Place the tray
on the table over there."
"Yes, Mr. Hardcastle." The former fraudster complied, carefully placing
the pewter tray upon a bare table in the large bedroom. Another ecstatic
noise from Walda indicated that Leonard was continuing to pleasure his
shemale toy with his fingers.
"Mmmm. Such a sensitive hole," Leonard intoned into Walda's ear. "It's
like you were made for me."
Once again, Walda let out a cry of ecstacy. Her body quivered as the
long fingers wiggled within her.
Kelly turned back to the tray to begin pouring tea into the cups...
"Wait," Leonard sharply commanded. "Don't touch the pot. Not yet."
Fortunately, Kelly's fingers stopped just short of the handle, and she
turned back to Leonard.
"Strip down," the bald man calmly commanded after another ecstacy-
inducing wiggle of his buried fingers.
As she was the only person in the room who had clothes on, Kelly
concluded that he was talking to her, and she began removing her maid
outfit a piece at a time. The white apron came off first, followed by
the other pieces of the traditional black uniform.
Once Kelly was in the buff, she looked down at her wider frame. A part
of her remained in a state of disbelief over what had been done to the
young man he used to be as another squeal of passion emerged from
Walda's mouth.
Leonard then whispered something in Walda's ear as he pulled his fingers
out of her posterior. Walda rose up in response with a weary grin as she
turned to the bedroom door. She glanced to Kelly and gave her a sultry
wink as she pulled open the door and left the room, closing the door
behind her.
Kelly looked nervous as Leonard rose to his bare feet, walking across
the soft carpet to stand in front of the naked maid, literally looking
down upon her.
"My wife tells me you used to be a very naughty young man," Leonard
began, keeping his deep voice intimidatingly low. "Fraud, was it not?"
Kelly swallowed hard, her own body quivering nervously. "Y-yes, Mr.
Hardcastle."
Leonard's face now looked a little more menacing as he glared down at
her. "I bet you felt soooo satisfied over how you were able to convince
people to surrender their money to you...but you never gave anything in
return, did you?"
Kelly lowered her head shamefully. She hated when someone brought up a
past he was made to regret, and she had a feeling he knew this.
Leonard shook his head. "Horrible. Those are the worst kinds of people,
Kelvin. Especially when they're shameless about it...but you're
certainly ashamed of yourself now, aren't you?"
Kelly brought her regretful, meek eyes up to meet Leonard's sharp gaze
once again.
"I should keep you this way," Leonard mused. "A fat, naked maid. Not
even wearing an apron. Morning, noon, and night."
Kelly swallowed hard, dreading such a notion.
Leonard then wrapped his well-toned arms around the naked house maid,
and pulled her in for an unsuspected hug. One of his calloused hands,
however, moved down to one of Kelly's plush buttcheeks.
"You deserve what happened to you," Leonard intoned. "Tell me you
deserve this. Tell me how bad you really are."
From the brisk rubbing that was now going on at Kelly's buttcheek, she
had a pretty good idea as to what was about to happen. The irony was
that in her days as Kelvin Sherman, it was he that was in a position to
strike at the exposed ass of a much slimmer woman, having seen such a
BDSM display once before. He had to wonder how it was that the woman
could derive such pleasure from having her posterior repeatedly smacked.
The woman he had so teasingly smacked made pleasing noises that didn't
sound much different from someone who was faking an orgasm.
As Kelly recollected this memory, however, the rubbing stopped...and
Leonard's open hand struck at her buttcheek, emitting a loud, sharp
crack as the naked maid's eyes widened from the initial sting.
Beyond the sting of the genuinely painful smack came a warmth, which
slowly seemed to replace the pain.
"TELL ME," Leonard commanded as Kelly's body tensed up.
"I..." Kelly's high, feminine voice timidly began. "...I...I'mmm..."
Once again, a sharp crack sent a shot of pain upon Kelly's impacted
buttcheek. The former fraudster squinted her eyes shut as a follow-up
smack hit the same area.
"TELL ME."
*SMACK!*
"Mmmph!!" Kelly began to pant despite herself. This spanking was
stimulating her! "I...I'm so bad...sssso bad..."
*SMACK!*
"Ahhh!!" Kelly's arms wrapped around Leonard's torso as she continued to
pant. "Yes! Yess...I'm so bad...I'm so..." *SMACK!* "Nnng...I'm sssoooo
ffffucking bad!!"
"Say that again." Leonard rumbled into Kelly's ear as he reared a hand
back for another strike.
Kelly squeezed her eyes shut in anticipation for the next salvo. "I-I'm
so...." *SMACK!* "...ss...ssssooooo..." *SMACK!* "....sssssoooo
ffffuckinnnng..." *SMACK!* *SMACK!* "....ffffuck....ohh fffuck..."
*SMACK!* "guuuuh!...ffffucking bad..." *SMACK!* "....b-bad..." *SMACK!*
"...bad..." *SMACK!* *SMACK!* *SMACK!* "....I'm ssso fucking BAD!!"
"Yes." Leonard cooed deeply as he now began rubbing at the cheeks of
Kelly's now cherry red posterior as the naked, plus-sized former man
panted rapidly in her unexpected arousal. "You were a very, very bad
boy. Every now and then, I will remind you of this, the same way I just
did."
"I deserve this." Kelly weakly admitted. "I've been so nasty."
*SMACK!*
"....sss...ssso nassstyyyy..."
*SMACK!*
Her reactions now sounded like passionate moans in the wake of every
impact Leonard smacked upon the naked maid's large ass. He could feel
Kelly's warm breath upon one side of his chest as she continued to pant
heavily.
Leonard smiled. "This won't be the first time you'll be reminded of the
terrible person you once were." He then released Kelly. "Now pour me a
cup of tea before it gets cold."
* * *
Gentle music.
Alluring words, purring along with an imperceptible, tonal undercurrent.
Constance had her eyes open the entire time as the dermis machine began
its feminizing routine. Her vision seemed to blur a bit as she felt a
subtle shifting sensation at her face. It provoked a mild throbbing at
her head as she stared up at the blackness of the lid above her.
Although it felt as if rollers were pushing and pulling around at her
abdomen, no physical rollers were evident within the machine. It was as
if her body had come alive on its own, rolling and re-arranging his
shape. She could feel a fullness in her rump as her waist slimmed.
It was as if the invisible hands of the Goddess herself were dictating
an ascension for the former Connor James. The discomforts were mild and
momentary. Constance was enraptured by what this machine was doing to
her.
She could feel her scalp tingling as her hair gained volume, becoming
longer and fuller even as her face shifted to an inescapably feminine
and much more alluring shape. She could even feel her vocal chords warp
a bit, corresponding to a matrix provided by the conspiratorial woman
who had put her and the person that was once Connor's father in these
tanning bed-like machines.
Constance could hardly tell if it was the voice she was hearing
compelling such thoughts, but she felt as if someone was making
passionate love to her as she waited for the process to be done. She
wanted what was happening to her to linger. To hang in space while
invisible hands squeezed, rubbed, and caressed her body, while molding
it like clay at the same time.
Semen began to leak from her now tiny penis as she writhed.
A filthy creature of wanton passion. Constance thought to herself. Ohhh
yes. I LOVE the sound of that. Her tongue ran slowly and sensuously
around fuller lips as she entertained this thought, which had been laid
into her by the alluring voice that whispered and cooed unto her mind
during the procedure.
When the humming, the music, and the voice faded and went silent,
Constance noticed that her back, which had laid flat against the cushion
when she entered the dermis machine, now felt curved. She could feel her
larger butt against the black leather cushion.
When the lid finally came up, the flood of light made Constance squint
her eyes. A much more feminine hand rose up to shield herself from some
of it.
As she sat up, she felt a jiggling sensation at her chest. Looking down,
she saw that she was a cup size larger than she was when she went into
the dermis machine. She also felt a spill of raven black hair...a lot of
it..spill down around her shoulders. Some of it partially covered her
eyes.
"Sit still for a moment." It was Auntie Agatha's voice, on her left,
standing next to the open machine. "Deep, slow breaths."
Staring forward with slitted eyes, Constance complied. She did feel a
little exhausted from what she had been through. A part of her wanted to
pull the lid down and go through the experience again.
Agatha reached over and gave one of her larger breasts a grope, sampling
its firmness. Oh yes. She concluded to herself. This one has become a
perfect sexual weapon, and one that is hopelessly bound to me, and me
alone.
"How do you feel, Constance?" Agatha asked.
"Differ-r-r-r-rent." Constance's voice sounded attractively husky now,
and the roll of her 'r's remained perfectly subtle.
Agatha then ran her fingers through the volumes of hair that Constance
had grown. This caused the much more feminine former young man to
shudder.
"Oooohh..." Constance purred as she arched her head back. "...th-that
feels wonder-r-r-r-rful...k-keep r-r-r-r-running your-r-r-r-r finger-r-
r-r-rs thr-r-r-r-rough my hair-r-r-r-r..."
Agatha couldn't suppress her amused giggle. "Just imagine how Brad
Rollins will react when he sees you like this."
"Mmmm." Constance made the mental leap to her childhood friend. "Br-r-r-
rad."
"Ooooh!"
The squeal came from yet another tanning machine-like dermis installment
in the next room. Agatha tugged at Constance's wrist so that the naked,
shapely young woman she had perfected into an alluring femme fatale
would follow her over to where Sam James had been stationed.
When they entered the room, Sam...now Samantha Wilder...was sitting up,
the lid having been lifted away by Donna, the resident attendant.
Samantha had a somewhat clueless look in her wide eyes as she looked
around.
Although she didn't have the wildy attractive dimensions Constance now
had, Samantha had been given the bare beginnings of a feminine shape.
She was a mild hourglass now, with B-cup swells at her chest, a slightly
curvy butt, and a head of short, boyish, and platinum blond hair. Such
was the consequence of going into the dermis machine with the Marine-
like buzz cut that was on the head of Sam James before the dermis
procedure began.
Samantha's lips, on the other hand, looked plushy now. Agatha knew this
was only the beginning for the former Army Captain. As the week
progressed, her body would continue its slow development, independently
of the machine, until Samantha was the perfect image of an air-headed
blond bimbo. Her growing breasts would pour out of her blouses and her
plumping butt would infectiously jiggle. Such was the nature of the
latest serum she had administered to Sam that was created by the new
science prodigy, Leanne Walsh, who Agatha also had her eye on. The serum
was dependent on a single dermis machine treatment to begin the gradual
development effect on Sam James's body. Sam would slowly blossom as the
week progressed, like a budding flower expanding its petals.
And throughout it all, the former Army Captain would be entertainingly
clueless and empty-headed.
When Samantha's eyes fell upon the naked woman who used to be the son of
the man she used to be, she continued to stare upon the raven-haired
beauty, trying to figure something out.
"C-Conssstance?" Samantha chimed, in a much higher voice, which almost
sounded like she had sucked in a bit of helium.
The husky-voiced woman smirked. "You fell asleep in ther-r-r-re, didn't
you, Samantha?"
"I...I did?" Samantha tried to think on what had happened in the past
five minutes, but she had apparently already forgotten. "Ummm...if
you...if you say so..."
Agatha turned to Constance. "You should take her shopping once you're
both dressed up. She'll need your advice on what would make her look
hot." Agatha then held up a shopping bag. "I have your new dress right
here. Take it, then go and get changed."
"Yes, Auntie Agatha," Constance purred as she took the bag and went to a
dressing stall. Her larger butt swayed sensually as she walked.
As Samantha fluffed curiously at her full head of short, silvery hair,
Agatha knew she could now move on to the far more important matter of
assessing the Black Market weapon assets Captain Sam James had amassed,
which was now hers.
Assets which she knew would be a boon in the development of her
more...explosive plans for the world at large.
Once those clients were dressed and gone, Donna and one other attendant
began preparing the dermis machines for two more appointments that were
due to arrive in an hour.
* * *
Leonard Hardcastle stood before the dermis machine currently working on
Prototype A, while Evangeline Pierson chose to keep a vigil on Prototype
B. She had Donna program the machines to the tall blond woman's
specifications.
She even dressed for the occasion. Black latex skirt, white cotton
blouse, 50s hairstyle, and stiletto heels. Her lips were painted cherry
red, and she gave herself an exceptionally authoritarian appearance
through her makeup.
Leonard dressed up as well, wearing the same business outfit he was in
when he confronted Julius Reid prior to his dosing.
Donna felt Evangeline's eyes on her as they waited for the process to be
done. She couldn't help but feel a bit nervous being this near someone
as dominant-looking as Evangeline Pierson.
Sure enough, Evangeline stepped behind the attendant, and began playing
with her hair.
Donna swallowed hard, and tried to mind her own business...but she then
heard Evangeline speak into her left ear.
"If you don't re-color your hair a pure, platinum blonde..." she spoke
in one ear...
...and then moved to the other one. "...I'm going to be very upset with
you."
In emphasis of this, Evangeline pinched Donna's right nipple hard,
making the nervous attendant gasp sharply. She then began to pant,
despite herself.
Evangeline then turned Donna around to face her. "Will you do as I
command?"
Donna looked very nervous now. Why did she suddenly feel so excited over
this? "I..."
The tall blond woman's face quickly came close to Donna's, and she fixed
a stern, commanding gaze on the attendant that was meekly staring back
at her. "Will, you, do, as, I, command?"
Once again, Donna swallowed hard. "Well, I...I-I've been plat...platinum
blond before, sooo...umm, yeah. S-sure."
Evangeline pinched both nipples now, making the attendant wince with the
resultant stings. "Don't tell a soul who wants you to do it. You don't
want me to be cross with you, do you, Donna?"
"Aa-aaahh-haah...n-nno, Miss...Mmmmiss Piersonnnnn."
"Good." She then released Donna's nipples. "Because if you do as I
command, you will see more of me. Whenever you're not working, that is.
I can tell by the look in your eyes..." She traced the enraptured
attendant's jawline with a finger. "...that you want this. Now mind your
machine, little Donna."
Given the attraction the other attendant...a former boy, now named
Sheila...had to Leonard's appearance, all the bald, black man had to do
was to gesture to the enraptured young attendant. He had then grabbed
the flustered redhead and they were kissing very deeply in the next
moment.
Evangeline always found this habit of Leonard's amusing. It never
bothered her. She knew her husband too well.
It was only when the dermis machine's procedure was within a minute of
stopping that Leonard broke off the kiss. Sheila needed a moment to
recover before moving to the machine's upper lid.
When Prototype A sat up, Leonard saw that the machine had done its work
frighteningly well. Not only did the former Julius Reid look much
heavier, she also looked significantly older as well. If she had any
more wrinkles beyond those she had been given through the dermis
process, she'd be a wizened old crone. The formerly young black man's
hair was now graying out, too.
Julius Reid had now become the perfect picture of an old, fat black
female domestic servant. A fitting fate for a slacker like you, 'yo'.
Leonard amusedly thought to himself.
Prototype A looked confused as she looked around. "Daaaaaamn!" she
exclaimed. "Why do I feel like I jus' run twenny damn miles??"
Perfect! Leonard thought to himself as he flashed a wide grin. The
personality makeup seated itself perfectly! Now we just need to find
this domestic quagmire of complaints and sassy quips an upscale family
to serve!
For the moment, the tall bald man placed a hand on Prototype A's wrinkly
back. It was time to choose a name for this new maid. "Just relax for
now, Sheree. Regain some of your strength."
Sheree gave Leonard a wildly confused look. "If I relax any longer, I
mine as well be a mummy!" She then looked to Sheila. "Y'all got a
treadmill somewhere?"
While Evangeline rubbed gently at Donna's hair as if she were a pet, the
flustered attendant lifted the upper lid on the dermis machine
containing Prototype B.
Upon sitting up, B's hands immediately went to his face, which felt like
it had been stretched all over the place while she was within the
darkness of the machine's interior space. Her face certainly felt a bit
different here. After a moment, she turned her head to Donna.
"Mmm..." B noticed her voice was higher in pitch now. "...mmmirror,
please?"
The attendant reached over to grab a large hand mirror, and then handed
it to B as Evangeline was rearranging Donna's hair into two cute little
nubs.
Prototype B stared, for a long moment, at her own reflection. Any and
all lingering traces of masculinity in her face was completely gone now.
Ripped at the roots and replaced with visibly evident femininity. She
had a classical look to her face now. The shape and look of Prototype
B's face now bore a faint resemblance to the one in the Mona Lisa
painting, which was radically different from the way it looked before
the machine began its work.
The machine had also, apparently, given her a bob hairstyle, with her
hair split to the sides in softly-curved inward waves.
B's thoughts were fuzzy as the machine worked on her. In the hours
before she had gone into the machine, she had begun to recall being
someone else. A school student. Someone who got a kick out of tormenting
people he perceived to be weak and insignificant.
Coming out of the machine, however, B patted at her forehead
distressfully, as if she were trying to recall what she had been
remembering.
Watching B's reaction made Evangeline smile insidiously. "Is there
something wrong, Mavis?"
"S-something..." She tried clearing her throat. "...something..." She
cleared her throat again, trying to talk in a deeper pitch.
"...something?s wrong, I...I should be...cleaning...nooo,
no...cleaning...p-polishing...no! I...I thought...I...oh, Godde...God-
dess..." She had wanted to say ?God?. "...Goddess? I..." She sighed
fretfully, hanging her head. "...Goddess, I?m so confused..."
"I think when we get you into your proper uniform, things will be much
more clear to you." Evangeline mused, scratching gently beneath Donna?s
chin as the attendant arched her head up, finding the feeling strangely
agreeable. "I should also tell you that I think you?ve earned the right
to be called something other than a Prototype. I wonder what we should
call you..."
"Mavis! Mavis!" The young woman who used to be Donnie Blatz blinked in
her confusion. "No...wait...Mavis...Mmm-Mavis? No, it was Mavis! W-why
am I..."
Evangeline tilted her head to the side curiously. "What is your name?"
"Mavis! Mmm..." Putting the mirror she was holding in her lap, she began
to tap the sides of her head as if struggling to remember something.
"Mavis...Mavis..."
The tall blond woman grinned as she kept rubbing beneath Donna?s chin.
It was part of the overall development process for Prototype B. Induce a
light feminine persona, let it deteriorate a bit, and then rip who she
used to be off...roots, and all...through the dermis machine at the
Butterfly Salon. She knew Donnie Blatz was trying to recover the
bullying male persona she once was, but now? It would be completely
impossible.
Donnie Blatz, for all intents and purposes, was dead and gone.
Disappeared, along with all the other people in Bullchester, or even who
had come to Bullchester, who mysteriously went missing.
In its place was a Victorian-aspected Scullery Maid named Mavis
Potterton. Evangeline was tempted to openly wish Mavis a Happy Birthday.
"Go over to Master Leonard now, Mavis," the blond woman instructed,
gesturing to the other dermis room where her husband was with Sheree.
"He?ll give you the clothes you?ll be wearing on the way back."
Mavis?s movements were shaky as she stepped out. Once she was gone,
Evangeline turned Donna to face her. The enraptured attendant stared
longingly up to the taller woman.
"You should be careful around me, little pet." Evangeline scratched
gently at Donna?s hair as she spoke. "I might want to put a collar
around that sweet neck of yours and drag you around, all over
Bullchester Park." The woman brought her face closer to Donna?s. "You?d
like that, wouldn?t you...Gordon?"
"Y-yes..." Donna replied, despite herself.
"Oh?" Evangeline?s right eyebrow went up. "You want to be treated like a
dog? Does that...excite you, pet?"
"I-I don?t...know, I..." Donna once again looked flustered. "...I can?t
help it..."
Evangeline brought her lips to Donna?s ear. "I know all about you," she
cooed. "Whether you want more or not, is up to you. You..." Evangeline
slipped a business card into Donna?s shaking hand. "...have to come to
me. Until then..." She rubbed at a pinch of Donna?s hair. "...do as I
commanded with your hair."
"Y-yes, Miss Pierson," Donna weakly replied. All of this attention was
continuing to make her feel incredibly stimulated.
"Now..." The tall blond woman?s lips hovered very closely in front of
Donna?s lips, as if she was about to kiss her deeply. "...stay."
Evangeline then pulled away to rejoin her husband, leaving Donna to
recover from the taller woman?s completely unexpected interest in her.
She was now panting heavily, and she felt the cooling of a warm, sticky
spot at her panties. It was a big spot, too.
Another Salon attendant, Hyacinthe, stepped over to Donna in her
concern. "Donna? Are you okay?"
"Huh? Oh yeah, fine, fine!" Donna rubbed at her neck, suddenly finding
the notion of wearing a collar strangely appealing. "Just...just fine."
As she replied, she slipped the business card Evangeline gave her into a
pocket of her Salon uniform, already considering the notion of
contacting her.
XVI: Quid Pro Quo
"Hey...it?s like you told me last night at the ?9th?." Simon Callahan
explained while on his smartphone conversation during his morning drive
to work. "We?re just playing along here. Body wash had a funky smell to
it, but...hell, it wasn?t much different from any other wash I?ve been
using." Simon smirked over the reply he was given. "Oh, funny. Real
funny. Yeah, it?ll be a cold day in Hell before they get me to wear
anything resembling a skirt. I?m goin? in the parking lot. I?ll see you
at lunch. Fuck ya later!"
As Simon closed the call with a tap to his smartphone, he frowned in
confusion over what he said in ending the call. ?Fuck ya later?? He
wondered to himself. Where did THAT come from? I meant to say ?see you
later?...
Once he settled his white Lexus into its parking space, he grabbed his
thin suitcase and stepped out of the driver side, hurrying over to where
the elevator door awaited him. As he did, the Junior Executive Shelley
Portnoy hurried over to wait near him.
She began to sniff around before giving Simon a confused look. "Somebody
growing flowers around here?"
The elevator doors opened as Simon turned his head to Shelley, shrugging
as they both stepped into the elevator. Seeing a fellow office worker
hurry over, Shelley reached over to hold the door open before Simon
could press the button which would have closed the elevator doors.
Shelley gave the smirking executive an unpleasant look as the young
office worker filled a space in the elevator. "Don?t be inconsiderate.
Riley works here too, y? know." Shelley remarked.
Simon just shrugged. "Y? snooze, y? lose. Someday, you newbs?ll learn
that." He mumbled.
As the elevator began its ascent, Shelley continued sniffing. She again
looked to Simon. "That?s...coming from you. You hiding a bouquet of
posies under that jacket?"
Simon once again frowned in confusion. "I...don?t know what you?re
talking about."
Shelley looked to Riley. "Don?t you smell flowers?"
"Yeah." The younger worker replied, nodding. "It?s nice, but...kinda
strong."
Shelley nodded back in agreement as the door opened to accept another
couple of female office workers. "You could swear someone dipped his or
her head into a vat of perfume before coming to work."
As the elevator continued its ascent, Simon could hear the others in the
elevator continue to whisper about the flowery scent. It was quickly
getting on Simon?s nerves.
Simon suddenly sighed out loudly. "It?s a new fuckin? Body Wash, okay??"
He yelled to the others on the elevator. "The boss wanted me to wear a
free sample! I can?t help it if it makes me smell pretty!" He looked to
Shelley. "You were there, weren?t you?? At the meeting?? When she gave
me that stuff?"
Shelley calmly nodded, a slight smile on her face. "I was. I never said
the smell was bad, Simone."
As she spoke, the elevator doors parted, revealing the floor Shelley and
Simon shared. Shelley just casually walked out, while Simon sighed out
irritably as he stepped out of the elevator car.
"By the way...har de har har," Simon grumbled to the walking Junior
Executive as he moved. "My name is Simon, not Simone."
Shelley just shrugged, still gazing forward as she walked. "Suit
yourself, bubbles."
Stopping in front of his office, Simon watched Shelley continue to
casually stroll towards her own office, where her ridiculously banana
yellow-clad new secretary Leigh Krystal waited for her. Shaking his
head, Simon opened the door to his larger office and stepped in.
The previous day, he had been reading through his worn copy of a book
called A Bridge Too Far, which was an assessment of a World War II
operation written by Cornelius Ryan. He was halfway through the book,
and had his place bookmarked. He had placed the book on his desk before
leaving for the day yesterday.
This morning, the book remained where it was, but sitting next to it was
last month?s issue of a Loris-published magazine called Pandora. It was
a magazine he didn?t particularly care for, but spoke out in defense of
in publishing meetings because he didn?t want to jeopardize his place in
the company that published it.
Simon smirked as he picked up the glossy magazine, and stepped outside
of his office to speak loud enough to be heard by other office workers,
holding the rolled-up publication. "Someone leave a Pandora magazine on
my desk?"
His inquiry was met with a bunch of denials from the employees who heard
the inquiry. He glanced to Shelley?s office, but she was engrossed in
her work as Leigh stepped out, and headed in Simon?s direction to do an
errand.
Simon waved the rolled-up mag to get the sweet-smelling young
secretary?s attention. "Uh, ?scuse me...did you leave something on my
desk?"
Leigh stopped, and then shrugged. "I?ve never been in your office, Mr.
Callahan. I woudn?t leave anything of mine in there either." Before
Simon could inquire further, Leigh continued down the office lane,
focused on her task.
The only remaining possibility was Isabel, the night janitor, who was
said to have lingered in offices she had cleaned after the offices
emptied out for the day either to eat dinner that she had brought with
her, or to take a short break. She liked reading magazines, but they
were always in the Hispanic language.
Simon slowly stepped back into his office, shaking his head as he
dropped the magazine back on his desk. The image of the magazine?s
latest model...a tattooed, plus-sized bleach blond bimbo with a big tush
and a pair of oversized, but convincing-looking breast implants...stared
back at him. The words beside the image read ?Bouncing Bullchester
Beauties on the Beach?.
The smirking executive shook his head, even though his gaze lingered on
the image. The ringing of his phone diverted his attention as he reached
for the worn book next to the magazine.
He irritably picked the receiver up. "Loris International, Callaha..."
A recorded message cut in regarding a fake Social Security scam. Sighing
loudly, he hung up the receiver and picked up the World War II book,
settling into his chair.
Flipping through the glossy pages, he glanced through the advertisements
for Loris products before turning a page to see a pretty adolescent
woman modeling a skin-tight lycra outfit. His eyes lingered on the eye-
catching camerawork picking up on every little detail. Whoever it was
had gotten the lens in so close, you could practically see the pores on
the model?s bare flesh.
It suddenly occurred to him that he had picked up...and had engrossed
himself in...the issue of Pandora magazine. A Bridge Too Far remained
idle where it was.
Blinking in his confusion, he placed the magazine back on the desk and
stepped outside, heading over to where he usually got his black coffee.
Pouring himself a cup, he recollected the material he read from the WWII
book as he went back to his office.
Settling back in his chair, he sipped from his coffee cup...and then
frowned, once again, in confusion.
Looking into the cup, he saw that the coffee had been treated with
cream, and the drink had a sugary taste to it.
Cream with sugar?? He thought to himself as his eyes widened. But...I
don?t...
Slowly putting the cup back on the desk, he picked up his WWII book.
Once again, he marveled at how well the photography was on the models in
the issue. Coming in so close, you could practically see the threads on
the fashion statements they wore. Gazing upon the tight lycra, he caught
himself thinking of how well he would look wearing it if he had a less
hairy body...and what was it like to wear such smooth-looking silk? Why
couldn?t they make mens shirts using that kind of material? He reached
over to drink some more of his treated coffee, becoming a little more
approving of the taste.
A turn of the page had a model in a close-up holding her head at a
fetching angle. She had a pretty face. Simon angled his own head,
modeling itself after...
This is not my War book.
Simon froze.
Yet, his eyes lingered on the images within the magazine.
Of all the words around the model, words like ?unisex? and ?worth
wearing? lingered on his mind. His eyes had only briefly scanned over
the words!
Simon started to reach over to the novel, even with the magazine on his
lap, and open to another interesting spread...
...and it was then that the door to his office opened. The young
executive?s head snapped over to the door...
...and his eyes widened when they saw Rita Noble advance towards him
with a cordial smile between her plush lips. The skirt portion of her
skin-tight, tomato-colored dress was daringly short, and she had her
black bolero jacket partially covering the upper portion of the one-
piece dress, which betrayed a look at the valleys of jiggling cleavage
that Rita typically sported on her chest. Her hair had been fixed into a
very tight sock bun on top of her head.
This was the woman...the veritable Goddess...Simon?s eyes always
lingered on since he had started working at the company. He was
immediately curious as to why the CEO of the company was actually paying
his office a visit.
"Good morning," Rita chimed as she stepped closer. "Did you use the free
sample you were given? The Body Wash?"
Simon nodded, still taking in Rita?s beauty with his eyes. "I did,
Madame Noble."
Her eyes caught sight of the magazine as Simon replied, "Ooh, that?s a
good issue. One of our better ones."
"It was? I-I mean..." Simon had to blush deeply as he corrected himself.
"...someone left that here last night. I figured it was Isabel."
Rita noted the twinge of interest in his voice, in his initial reply,
before he corrected himself. "I had a client here yesterday after you
had left. Seeing as how I had the Master key, I let her in here to wait
while I took an important call. She obviously left the reading material
in here. I?ll take it back." She picked up the WWII novel. "Mmmm. A
Bridge Too Far. Market Garden. They should have flogged Monty over its
failure. 98 percent successful my bouncy ass."
Simon?s eyes widened once again. "You know about Operation Market
Garden?"
Rita nodded as she settled her bouncy butt on a bare spot of Simon?s
desk. "There?s a veteran of the operation itself working at a Retirement
Home in the city. He was one of the american soldiers who captured the
Grave Bridge in Holland. That was before everything went to shit, of
course."
"Well, I...haven?t gotten that far," Simon bashfully noted. "I?m
actually...up tooooo...ummm..."
Rita amusedly tilted her head curiously. "Up to what? When was the last
time you read it?"
"Last night. Before I left. I had some time to kill." He went back to
thinking. "It was...um...damn, what was it? It was...ummm...was..."
"Did you bookmark it?"
"Huh? Oh, yes, I did." Simon reached over to the book, but Rita gently
grabbed his wrist.
"Not important, dear." Rita guided the hand away from the worn novel. "I
never figured you for short-term memory. All those degrees in business
analysis. I expected you, mentally, to be as sharp as a whip. That?s
embarrassing, Simon."
"I?m...sorry, Madame Noble," Simon replied. "I have no excuse."
"But you certainly have an eye for that magazine, don?t you?" Rita
gestured to the open issue in his lap. "I never figured you to be that
kind of a man. It?s...admittedly stimulating. Remarkable photography,
don?t you think?"
"Y-yyyes, it was...it wassss..." He was trying to think of the right
words as Rita snatched the magazine from his lap. "...it was..."
She quickly leafed through a few pages, and then stepped behind him,
holding the reopened magazine in front of his eyes, showing off a side
shot of one of the beach girls. "What about this one, Simon?" Rita
cooed, her head next to the executive?s ear as she enticingly spoke.
"Can you think of any words to describe this one?"
With Rita so close, the scent of her perfume was definitely distracting.
In all the time he had worked at Loris, Simon had never been this close
to the big boss. He was getting very excited inside. He also found
himself staring at the curves of the model in the magazine. His eyes
practically traced along her attractive body frame as she held her
hyper-flexible yoga position.
"No words?" Rita calmly mused. She then swung a leg over his lap and
settled her plushy rump upon it, facing him. She also dropped the
magazine on the ground as she stared into his eyes, flashing a
provocative grin. "Then what are you thinking about, dear?"
Rita?s concealed crotch was right up against the bulge of Simon?s hard-
on as he stared back at the CEO?s alluring face in awe. Her nose was
about an inch or so from his own. Any response he wanted to make seemed
to catch in his throat.
"Nothing?" Rita tilted her head. "It must hurt for you to think about
things other than sex. We might as well start calling you Si-MOOOAN."
"Wha...no! I...I think! I really do! I think!" Simon whined. "I
think...you...y-you know...nice! Hot!"
"Yeeees, it is nice and hot in those photo shoots." Rita explained.
"That?s why it?s called a beach."
"I..." Simon swallowed hard again. "...I knew...I knew that..."
Rita began rubbing her fingers into his short head of hair. "You knew
what?"
"A-about a bleach...I mean, a..."
"Mmm, I agree." Rita interjected, continuing to sift her fingers through
Simon?s hair. "I think you should bleach your hair for me. In fact, I
think you should grow it out."
Simon couldn?t figure out whether to be afraid, or compelled, by such
suggestions. In that moment, he began to fear for his job. Particularly
for the suggestions that he had become mentally unfit for it. "Please,
Madame Noble...I?m an analyst...I?m your analyst..."
Rita nodded. "And...what does an analyst do?"
The knowledge seemed to be on the tip of his tongue, but...for whatever
reason, he could not access it! He blinked, desperately trying to think
on what being an ?analyst? was all about so he could capably answer
Rita?s inquiry.
But Simon drew a blank every time.
"As I suspected. Have you suddenly gone stupid, Simone?" Rita loosened
Simon?s tie. "Airheaded? I want actual executives working in nice
offices like this, not sex-headed bimbos."
"Madame Noble...please..." Rita?s lips drew closer to Simon?s as he
pleaded nervously. "...I have a fmmmmph...!"
Once Rita pressed her lips against Simon?s in a passionate kiss, one of
the CEO?s hands slipped behind the nervous young executive?s neck and
subtly dug the needle end of a Tear Duct into it. Squeezing its small
plastic bubble streamed its DNA-matched, feminizing liquid into Simon
Callahan?s body.
This particular serum was a more fast-acting variety, which had been
among the recently-developed serums cultivated by Leanne Walsh, whose
work was beginning to make her incrementally significant in the eyes of
the Sisterhood. In the opinion of some of the Madames, they saw the
young woman as a potential successor to even Celeste Richards.
Rita slowly pulled her lips away. "Family. Yes, Simone. We know." She
pulled away further as Simon began to shake his head a little. "Your
sons...Robert, Chester, Martin...and of course, your wife, Delilah. You
shouldn?t worry about them, though. That would only give you a headache.
Besides...I?m not firing you."
Simon?s eyebrows raised up, his eyes wide. "Y-you?re not?"
"Noooo, of course not. Why would I do that to an executive that?s been
working for me for the past five years?" Rita assured, rubbing at
Simon?s hair as the serum slowly settled within his bloodstream and
began working its nefarious reassignment routines, which would begin to
create visible changes on the young executive?s body within 24 hours.
"The bad news, however, is that I need to transfer you. I need you to
clear out your desk, and take the rest of the day off. I will contact
you within a day or so, and let you know what your new responsibilities
will be. Understood?"
"Uhhh..." Simon?s index finger went to his bottom lip. "...o-okay,
Madame Noble."
"Start clearing out right now." Rita rose to her high-heeled feet.
"Remember...I?m not getting rid of you. I wouldn?t do that to a
dedicated Loris girl. Schedule an appointment at the Butterfly Salon to
have your hair bleached later today. Have them get rid of your body
hair, too. Trust me...you?ll look a LOT better when you do."
Simon?s hands went to his head as an intense throbbing sensation began
to ravage his thought patterns. "Ooh...oh...OH!
Ooh...ooh...whuh...wh...whooooooh...!"
Rita gazed amusedly at what was clearly Simon?s reaction to the serum.
She had been told that the first real effect would be on his mind,
evaporating many unnecessary thoughts in favor of a new and a more
provocative paradigm. Rita had to suppress the urge to giggle.
"You know what? It looks like you need some rest. Why don?t you head on
home right now, dear?" Rita tugged him out of his seat. His hand was
still at his head as he walked slowly. "I?ll have one of the clerks box
up your things here. Go and rest your pretty little head, but remember
what I told you about the Salon."
Simon was still in a daze as he moved to the elevator, his tie still
loosened. He almost looked like a drunken man, although his eyes now
looked a bit clueless and empty as the elevator doors closed not only on
Simon Callahan, but his masculinity as well.
Rita then walked over to the office of the other targeted analyst,
Nathan Barrows. A part of her wondered if Vije Nastassje would have any
difficulty in subjugating the more feisty young analyst.
When she saw Vije standing beside a seated Nathan, who was at his
computer typing in the tall, alien-looking woman?s words as she spoke
them while wearing only the tight, sleeveless one-piece dress Vije was
confident she could get Nathan to strip down and wear, Rita smirked.
She also now owed Vije 50 dollars.
* * *
The sound of Constance?s voice on the smartphone...which still
identified the voice as Connor James...was reason enough for Brad
Rollins to feel a stir between his legs. Understandably curious, Brad
accepted Constance?s offer to meet at the same place as before, when
Connor first revealed his femininity.
Once again, Brad waited at the bar, sipping from a drink. Only five
minutes remained before he would expect his childhood friend to show up.
But then, Brad felt the long fingernails of a slender hand rub at the
top of his head. Startled, the young man turned around...
...and froze.
There, standing in front of him, was a veritable and lustrously raven-
haired femme fatale. A shoulderless lycra dress in a deep crimson color
revealed the swells of a pair of D-Cup breasts. The tightness of the
dress hugged every curve of her unmistakably feminine body. The dress
ended at her knees, where dark pantyhose ended at a pair of high-heeled,
blood red shoes. At his neck was a cameo which displayed a head-and-
shoulders rendering of the Egyptian cat-god, Bast. Constance, however,
simply picked up the cameo because she found it appealing. She knew
nothing of the feline-muzzled face displayed upon it.
"Hello again, Br-r-r-rad," Constance purred, her voice more attractively
husky compared to the last time he heard his feminized friend speak, as
she stepped up close to him.
"Hh-hi." Brad managed to gently respond. He was astonished at how much
more feminine Connor had become. Any other words practically caught in
his throat.
"Don?t you like what you see?" Constance asked. "You look ner-r-rvous."
"Uh...m-me? No, I...I?m fine." Brad grinned, unable to hide his
flustered expression. "I-It?s just...you..."
"Me?" She alluringly traced a finger beneath his chin. "What about me,
Br-r-rad?"
Brad now had the impression that he was being watched by someone other
than Constance. He desperately tried to think of the right approach.
He sighed out in frustration as his eyes returned to Constance.
"Connor..."
"Constance, honey," the femme fatale cooed. "But you can call me Connie,
if you like."
"CONNOR," Brad loudly asserted. "Look, could we...step out of here? Go
someplace..."
"Like the par-r-rk?" Constance raised an eyebrow. "So you can quietly
abandon me again?"
"No, look, Connor...I had reasons, okay? It?s...nothing I can..." He
began looking around nervously. He then slipped off of the bar chair and
gestured for Constance to follow. "...look, can you just follow me?" He
quickly brought his lips to one of the feminized former young man?s
ears. "These walls have ears."
Constance frowned. "Walls? What ar-r-r-re you..."
Brad now looked desperate as he grasped Constance?s arms. "Just come
with me. I-I can?t hold this in. I...I got nervous before. Very nervous.
And...and you?re right. I?m nervous now. But...well, I...guess I?d like
us to go someplace where you could...you know, slip into something...
more comfortable? Y?know?"
Constance?s lips slowly formed a lascivious smile. "Let?s go, then. Lead
the way, Br-r-rad."
The interior of the bar was a bit crowded, and filled with more female
faces than male ones. Although he suspected that Constance was going to
get worried, he had to rush his feminized friend out of the place
quickly. He had to tug her along.
At one point, he collided with a woman. In that same moment, he felt a
sharp pinch at his abdomen.
"Hey!" the frowning woman yelped. "Watch it!"
"Excuse me," Brad hurriedly remarked as they quickly covered the
remaining distance to the bar entrance, where they managed to slip out
onto the paved pedestrian sidewalk.
"What?s with the r-r-rush?" Constance amusingly remarked as she
continued to be tugged behind her childhood friend.
"Sorry, I?m...horny," Brad replied as he kept walking with hurried
steps. "Very horny."
They hastened down the avenue for a couple of blocks before ducking into
a side alley, where long dark shadows swallowed them both whole. After
looking in both directions, Brad quickly produced a key and opened a
side door they were standing in front of.
The air was thick and humid as Brad guided Constance up a flight of old
stairs, a step or two of which had a wallpaper-like covering curling at
the edges, before coming to a landing with another door. A single light
bulb illuminated the area from above as Brad unlocked the apartment door
with another key on his keyring.
When they both stepped inside, they found that only a couple of
fans...which Brad turned on as Constance looked around the empty
apartment...provided any cooling. Each of the rooms was empty save for
one, which had a single desk upon which sat an array of eight monitors.
Sitting on a nearby desk to the left was what looked like a large black
mainframe, and on the right side were six computer towers. In front of
the monitors was a single keyboard. Attached to the edge of the ceiling
high above were a pair of speakers, and a cube beneath the desk
evidenced a subwoofer.
In front of this setup was a single office chair, and against the wall
to the left was a small, rectangular refrigerator that was only half the
size of a full one.
After flicking on a couple of devices that sat by the mainframe, Brad
stepped back in front of Constance. "Okay, look. I?m sorry for the
cloak-and-dagger shit, but...I had to get you out of there."
Constance just giggled. "Is this some kind of r-r-r-roleplay, honey?"
"Connor, LISTEN," Brad once again asserted. "I know you?ve probably been
conditioned to find this hard to believe, but...well, you?ve been
brainwashed and, well, transformed."
The femme fatale tilted her head, still finding this amusing.
"Oooooh...br-r-r-r-r-rainwashed. You could wash me anywher-r-r-re,
baby."
"STOP!!" Brad commanded. "Just listen. Don?t talk. There?s a kind
of...gender conspiracy going on in this city. It?s being run by some
kind of hidden organization called the Sisterhood. Might be related to
that Divine Feminine thing going on at Gourmandizer?s, but...well, we?re
not sure just yet."
"We?"
Brad had to stop and think for a moment before he continued. "What the
fuck, this place is secure anyway...jammers are working..." He reasoned
aloud before turning back to Constance. "Listen, buddy...it?s only
because I?ve known you for a really long time that I?m opening up like
this. I?m part of a very secret group of people operating within
Bullchester. Mostly hackers. We?re called ?Misogunia?. We?ve got shacks
like this all over the city. Topside, like this one, and below ground.
If I told you who was the top dog in charge, they?d fucking kill
me...but I?m in with them, and I think we can help you."
Constance frowned. "Why would I need help?" She then began to pull down
her lycra dress, exposing her breasts. "I feel wonder-r-r-r-rful."
"Connor, they?ve feminized you, don?t you see?" Brad whined. "Don?t you
remember anything about your past? Damn it!" He sighed out fretfully as
he paced around, thinking out loud. "We already lost Randy and Benny,
they...they would have been terrific assets to the group...but we?ve
still got Bippy, at least..." He turned back to Constance, who was
unhooking her bra. "...he hacked that Mayoress bitch. Crashed her
fucking system for hours. They had to call in that guy Neal to fix it.
He went full-on sissy since then."
The bra was off now, and Constance had her hands beneath her large tits,
squeezing them enticingly. "You said you were hor-r-r-r-rny."
In that moment, Brad started sobbing. Unexpectedly. He then shook his
head rapidly and stepped back over to Constance, trying to bring his
emotions under control. "Isn?t there anything left of you in there,
Connor?"
Constance pushed a tear away with an index finger, upon which was a long
fingernail. "Don?t cr-r-r-ry. I feel gr-r-r-reat. Don?t you want me to
help you feel the same way, baby?"
This made Brad giggle, and in a manner that worried him. Restoring his
focus as best he could, he hung his head. "He?s a lost cause. Goddamn
it."
Constance lifted his chin with an index finger. "Look at me, Br-r-r-
rad." She then lifted her breasts a little. "Or-r-r-r at least, look at
these."
"Weapon." Brad took a couple of steps back, still thinking aloud. "They
made you a weapon."
Constance frowned again in her confusion. "Br-r-rad...you?r-r-r-re not
making any sense."
"Was a mistake bringing you here. I?m such a fucking idiot." He started
to giggle again. "They?re gonna fucking kill me..." The laughter lapsed
into another sobbing fit.
As Constance began to speak once again, Brad reared back a fist and sent
it right at the feminized young man?s face. The hard shot immediately
sent Constance to the ground, completely unconscious.
Panting, Brad stared down at his now unconscious friend. After a moment,
he began to stagger back in shock. "I...I?m sorry...I...had to..."
Stepping right into the office swivel chair, he stumbled onto it. As his
eyes remained on Constance?s unconscious body, a clammy hand went up to
wipe a bit of sweat off of his brow.
"Why the fuck did I do that...?" he whispered to himself, quaking
nervously. "Why the fuck did I do that??"
Once again, a sudden giggle fit dissolved into a sob before he shook his
head, coming back to his senses. Rising back to his feet, he stepped
over to Constance and picked her up. He had to take her someplace far
from the ?shack? he had been foolish enough to take her to.
Ironically, he chose to rest her body across a bench in Bullchester
Park. An online taxi service made the job quick, and Constance remained
unconscious the entire time.
A few hours later, he was back in the ?shack?. Only the sounds of the
large fans behind him could be heard as he settled back into the swivel
chair in front of the active computers. His sweat-soaked body began to
shiver.
I. Am. So. Fucking. HORNY. He thought to himself as he lingered in the
chair.
* * *
It was through files that had recently been sent by Maggie?s hacker
friend, ?Bippy?, that she was able to get a handle on the kinds of
serums set up by the Sisterhood, which would be deployed through the use
of the nefarious ?Tear Ducts?.
When Maggie had slipped in during one of her "secret missions" to find
serums for the sake of dosing her two ?prisoners?, Lowell Bunton and
Scotty Griggs, she only needed the serum vials. She had administered
them to the men the old-fashioned way, and as both men slept on the
first day of their capture: by syringe. As the Tear Ducts were becoming
a popular means of deployment, Maggie knew that getting two of those
would be a little more risky given the more difficult security measures
in place to keep them safe.
Maggie also knew that ?Bippy? was one of the smarter hackers. With the
obvious exception of the ransomware bug incident he had inflicted upon
the computer systems in the offices of the Mayoress, his work rarely
involved active sabotage. Maggie needed the effeminate hacker for the
all-important intelligence gathering. He merely scoped and copied the
needed files, which were forwarded to Maggie before erasing them. His
work was so quick that it was next to impossible for the Sisterhood?s
computerized security systems to trace his intrusions.
As Maggie had concealed cameras in the basement, effectively giving her
a full view of Bunton and Griggs, she quietly watched on her laptop as
the two former soldiers she had been observing rose from their slumber
to notice the "gifts" the Mistress Voce had provided for them.
* * *
One gift was marked ?Bunton?, and the other was marked ?Griggs?.
Obviously very curious, they lifted the top portions of the white boxes
off. Scotty saw folded, shiny neon pink latex, while Lowell?s new latex-
based outfit was a bright, polished orange.
Pulling them out, they saw that they were bodysuits. Each of them had a
hole shaped like an inverted valentine at the breast area, while the
joints and the crotch had patches of the more flexible lycra fabric
attached to them.
Scotty was wide-eyed with awe. "Woooow...!" his softer, breathier voice
exclaimed.
Lowell?s response was one of quiet admiration. Particularly for the fact
that the latex outfits had flexible joint areas. But at the same time,
he was fiercely curious as to why they had been given outfits of this
nature as he stood with one knee bent, and the outfit held out in front
of him.
There was one aspect of this outfit, however, that disgusted Lowell.
"We should try them on!" Scotty excitedly remarked.
Lowell showed Scotty the chest opening. "Not with these cut-outs,
Marine."
"Ohhh, come ooooon," Scotty girlishly chided. "Those valentine things
are cute! They?re the best part!"
"You try it on, then," Lowell grumbled, assessing his own appearance as
Scotty began figuring out how to slip the mostly latex outfit onto his
body. Seeing a long, thin zipper at the back area, Scotty began to pull
off his latex swimsuit.
Both men noticed that their pecs were softer and more puffy, no doubt
signifying the beginnings of mammary growths. As they had been doing
calisthenics to pass the time during their captivity, their bodies
remained well-toned.
Scotty also noticed a small plastic container of talcum powder in the
box that contained his outfit. He picked up the container and gazed at
it curiously. "What?s...this for?"
Lowell shrugged. "Beats the fuck outta me."
In Scotty?s attempts to slip his arms into the tight rubber, he found it
surprisingly difficult. The latex was rubbing too tightly against the
skin of his arms. He had to pull them back out.
It was then that he realized why the powder was included. Opening it up,
he began to shower himself in the chalk-white talcum from the bottom of
his neck, to his arms, and down his legs. The only area not covered in a
light sheen of whiteness was his head.
Sure enough, when he tried slipping his limbs through the arm spaces of
the neon pink latex outfit, they slipped in much more easily. Once his
entire body was clad in the shiny pink latex, he walked over to Lowell
and turned around.
"Zip me, Lowie?" he amusedly asked.
The dark-skinned former Marine blinked. "?Lowie???"
"Pleeeeeeaaaaaase?"
Rolling his eyes, Lowell grasped the small ring at the end of the zipper
and pulled it up. Scottie could feel the outfit seal around every inch
of his body like a glove once the zipper was up.
"Whooooooaaaaah." Scotty sampled the flexible areas, and then giggled at
the bare, lightly-powdered spot of flesh at his chest that was shaped
like an inverted valentine.
He then began to perform a fighting kata, emulating the hand-to-hand
combat training he had been given during his Marine training. As Lowell
watched, he saw that the latex had been given flexibility in all the
right areas. The outfit did not hinder his kata movements at all.
Scotty?s shadow boxing remained quick and lethal.
"Wow..." Scotty stopped for a moment to take a breather as Lowell pulled
off his own swimsuit and began to powder himself down. "...this outfit
is really cool, Lowie!"
As Scotty continued to shadow-box, Lowell soon joined him once Scotty
had his fellow Marine zippered up. Going through his own hand-to-hand
melee motions, he, too, discovered that the outfit was permissive of his
unarmed combat maneuvers.
"See??" Scotty giggled upon watching Lowell?s moves. "Isn?t it cool?"
"I feel like I?m comin? out of a damn comic book." The brown-skinned
soldier observed. He then turned to Scotty. "Come on, Marine. Let?s
spar. Show me what?cha got."
Scotty?s response was a girlish giggle, but he then got into a combat
stance. They began to square off, circling one another. They then
started firing blows at one another that were either blocked, or ducked.
"C?mon," Lowell taunted. "C?mon, girlyman."
Both men had been trained in lethal forms of karate, which they
demonstrated against each other in a more non-lethal fashion. Scotty
tried to land a few blows, but each of them were blocked. Lowell?s shots
were more ferocious, owing to a power-based style.
But Scotty managed to trap Lowell?s arm in a hold, after which he
flipped his fellow soldier onto the ground. He then rolled over onto him
to hold him down.
As they both panted in their exhaustion, Scotty stared into Lowell?s
eyes. They both noticed subtle changes in their faces which made them
both appear less harsh. While they both had the tattoos to remind them
of what they once were, the serums in their bodies were definitely
manifesting visible changes upon them.
As Scotty hovered above his fellow captive, there was an odd sense of
fascination in their eyes as they stared at one another...
...but Lowell seemed to snap out of it. "Okay, okay, you win. Get off
me."
Scotty, however, continued staring. "I?ve never been this close to your
eyes. They look...they look so..."
Lowell wanted to deliver a harsh rebuke, but all that came out was,
"Stop that. I...I..."
"Can you feel it?" Scotty rubbed a hand against Lowell?s cheek slowly as
he continued to stare down with a softened expression. "Doesn?t that
feel nice?"
"Marine, could you..." He had to cut his harsh rebuke short. After a
moment, his tone softened. "...could you please let me up?"
The corners of Scotty?s lips curled upward. "Okay."
After getting to his feet, Scotty offered a hand down to Lowell, which
the brown-skinned soldier grasped. Pulling him back to his own feet,
Scotty also pulled him into an embrace, wrapping his pale arms around
the surprised Marine.
He then pressed his forehead against Lowell?s, continuing to stare into
his eyes. "It?s just us here...and I feel so...drawn...to you right now.
I-I can?t help it..."
"Scott..." Lowell couldn?t deny a feeling that was stirring inside him.
"...we...we?re Marines..."
The brown-skinned Marine?s words were cut off by the touch of Scotty?s
lips against his own. The first contact was a light touching of their
lips, followed by a deliberate and soft rubbing. Scotty?s hands rubbed
gently upon both sides of Lowell?s quivering head as he did so.
Any other words Lowell wanted to speak caught in his throat in that
moment. His eyes narrowed. His thoughts scattered.
I?m taking charge. Lowell managed to conclude to himself. You?re MY
bitch.
Lowell then pressed his lips against Scotty and kissed him hard, pushing
his latex-clad body against a side wall. The pink-clad Marine tensed his
muscles one minute, and then loosened them in the next. Scotty?s moans
became lustful ones as they continued to kiss.
MY bitch. Lowell repeated to himself as they continued to press their
lips against each other. You?re MINE, Marine. MINE!
* * *
A big grin formed on Maggie?s mouth as she watched her two captives kiss
each other.
I can?t wait for these two bitches to grow breasts. Maggie thought to
herself as she sipped from a glass of Decaf Iced Tea.
* * *
The Bullchester ?shack? currently occupied by Brad Rollins was actually
one of many low-rent dives acquired by an adolescent hacker from Quebec
named Perry Beauchamp. Long, stringy black hair hung down loosely from
beneath a gray toque which had a decoration embroidered onto it that
looked like an 8-bit computer representation of a Skull & Crossbones. He
wore a gray overcoat, partially covering a black turtleneck sweater.
Hanging around his neck, upon a piece of metal, was a stylized, punkish
version of the letter ?A?, with a circle around it, which popularly
symbolized the concept of anarchy. Ripped and faded blue jeans led down
to worn basketball sneakers which he wore barefoot. As a consequence,
the odor of foot stink...and B.O....seemed to follow this unwashed,
acne-faced young hacker around.
Perry had a sour expression on his face as he unlocked and opened the
door to the shack, hurrying upstairs and then pushing in the door to the
shack itself.
Approaching the computer setup, he saw Brad Rollins sitting in front of
the monitors. His arms were crossed in front of him, and he was burying
his face in his arms.
He seemed to be shivering as he sat there. Muffled moans could be heard.
"Th? FUCK??" Perry angrily barked as he approached Brad. "Nobody?s
supposed to be here, asshole! Why aren?t you out there??"
Brad managed to bring his head up. He looked sweaty and exhausted.
"Uhh...oh, hi, Perry...I...I needed a nap. I was...I was gonna..."
Perry grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him out of the seat. "You were
gonna what?? Lead those Sisterhood bitches here? These shacks are secret
for a fuckin? reason!" He then took a moment to sniff the air, and he
picked up on a faint perfume scent. His sense of paranoia immediately
increased as his infuriated eyes fell back on Brad. "Did you bring
someone here?"
"Did I...huh?? What??" Brad sounded confused. He could hardly think
straight after all the sharp churning sensations that had been going on
in his gut over the past few minutes. "Y?know...y...you have such long
hair...h-how long did it..."
"Brought one of those bitches here, didn?t ya? YOU STUPID FUCKIN? SHIT."
Perry growled, still holding Brad by his shirt with a tight, angry grip.
"You could have fuckin? ruined EVERYTHING for Misogunia, jackass. All
?cause you wanted a little nookie?? YOU DUMB FUCK??"
Brad just stared at the pock-cheeked teenager as he held him. "He was...
mmmy friend. Childhood, y?know? He was...you shoulda seen him...he
looked real nice." Brad?s hand reached up to rub against Perry?s hair.
"You should wash this. It...it looks...greasy."
Furious, Perry released his soft-voiced visitor and flattened him with a
vicious, open-handed slap to his cheek. He then began repeatedly and
violently kicking Brad while he was down. "YOU WORTHLESS LITTLE SHIT!! I
should fuckin? KILL you!" he screamed down at Brad, who was now writhing
in pain from the hard blows to his chest. A trickle of blood could be
seen leaking from the corner of his mouth as he grimaced.
After a moment, he began rummaging through the pockets of his overcoat.
"Y?know what? FUCK this. You?re a goddamn liability!" Finding what he
was looking for, he pulled out an object which, upon the flick of his
wrist, produced a small, sharp blade. "This is MISOGUNIA, sissy-head! NO
BITCHES ALLO..."
A stream of blood, skull, and brain matter suddenly and violently
exploded out the back of Perry?s head following the shattering of a
window in the shack. Perry?s mouth was frozen open as his eyes boggled
with shock. The grip on his knife weakened, and the weapon fell to the
ground as more blood gushed from the large exit wound at the back of his
head.
Perry himself dropped down, dead, as well.
When Brad saw Perry?s corpse, he gasped aloud, his own eyes boggling in
horror as he quickly and frightfully crawled away from the wound. His
terrified reactions looked very girlish.
After a few minutes, the door to the shack was kicked open. The
silhouette of a woman whose hair was wrapped in a sock bun on top of her
head could be seen within the doorway. She stood there for a minute or
so before stepping in.
Walking into the room with the computer system, the woman saw Brad
Rollins in a corner of the room, practically curled up in a fetal ball.
He looked absolutely terrified.
Her eyes then went to the computer screens. Each of them had a green bar
filling up beneath the word ?Deleting...?
"Shit!" The woman hissed. A hand then went to one of her ears, where she
touched a small communication device that was attached there. "Perry?s
terminated and I found Brad, but there must have been surveillance
cameras here. The hard drives were in the process of deleting when I
entered. Dunno how much I can get out of the kid. I?ll bring him in."
Stepping from out of the shadows and into the light coming from the
windows, Brad saw that the woman was dressed in a black outfit. A jacket
covered the top half of a tight one-piece lycra dress, the skirt portion
ending at the knees. Sitting on her nose was a pair of glasses that gave
her the appearance of a scientist. She peered down at him studiously as
he cowered in the corner of the room, shivering with horror.
"Whuh...wh-what?s...happening...t? me??" Brad managed to whisper out.
"I?m so frightened!"
"Shhhhh." The woman held out a hand as a smile formed on her lips. "I
won?t hurt you, girl. Come with me. Let?s get you out of here."
As a shaky hand began to reach out towards the woman?s, a thought
manifested in her mind as she observed the subtle changes that her serum
in Brad?s bloodstream had manifested.
It?s amazing how the flesh re-asserts itself.
* * *
- RosyPetal ?< : You had him SHOT??
- DivineFem ?< : Would you have preferred to see Mr. Beauchamp slice
open the neck of the Rollins boy?
- RosyPetal ?< : No, but...since when did we start hiring SNIPERS to do
our dirty work??
- DivineFem ?< : They were among the assets Captain James had at his
disposal in running his Black Market thing. I won?t use
them too often, dear. Don?t worry. I?m not about to
turn Bullchester into Bosnia.
- RosyPetal ?< : But...why are we using them in the FIRST place??
Especially when we KNOW we?re under federal scrutiny??
- DivineFem ?< : Because I wanted to send a message to this ?Misogunia?
thing. They want to fuck with us, I wanted to show that
I can fuck with them right back. They don?t DESERVE to
be a part of the new vision. I won?t waste so much as
a
single drop of Leanne?s work on them.
- DivineFem ?< : I don?t even know who they are, Petal. Mayoress Stroud
could be behind Misogunia for all I know.
- RosyPetal ?< : That would certainly be ironic. What about the CIA
Director? Lowenthal?
- DivineFem ?< : No. He?s too diplomatic in his approach to us. In fact,
I?d say he was envious of our root method
of...problem-
solving.
- DivineFem ?< : There is thankfully nothing about Director Lowenthal
that screams misogynism, which gives us an advantage.
- RosyPetal ?< : Well...I seriously doubt Stroud would be behind them.
Maggie Katzhoff, on the other hand...
- DivineFem ?< : No.
- RosyPetal ?< : Agatha, she has been a consistent monkeywrench in our
plans. I know how much you want her, but I?d feel a lot
safer if you put a hit out on HER. She?s DANGEROUS!
- DivineFem ?< : This coming from the former boy who?s so afraid of
federal scrutiny over the Beauchamp hit in the first
place. Talk about irony, Petal! I?d hate to think you
were straying from the Rose!
- DivineFem ?< : Petal? I know you?re still online. You have got to stop
this silly worrying habit of yours. Perhaps you can
take your mind off of this by working on Brad. He?s
already been dosed. See what you can do with him. Make
him a midwife. A bimbo. I don?t care.
- RosyPetal ?< : Yeah, about that...don?t you think Leanne?s serums are
a bit more ...radical...compared to what we?ve been
producing thus far?
- DivineFem ?< : Petal, there is a reason I?ve started putting them into
circulation despite this concern of yours.
- RosyPetal ?< : And...that reason being...?
- DivineFem ?< : I like them.
- DivineFem ?< : In fact, I?ve given her access to the high security
serums we have at the Farm. One prototype she?s working
on is a reactive hyper-estrogen which causes physical
and mental changes whenever the subject masturbates, or
engages in sexual intercourse.
- RosyPetal ?< : Without any side effects?
- DivineFem ?< : I did say the word prototype, yes?
- DivineFem ?< : Do I sense jealousy, Petal?
- RosyPetal ?< : No, no. I?m fine. So you don?t think we?re gonna get
any blowback from the Beauchamp hit?
- DivineFem ?< : I don?t think so. If Lowenthal comes calling, I?ll just
bring up Beauchamp?s juvie records. He was just
another
anti-establishment punk. A misanthrope. Social outcast.
- DivineFem ?< : Wouldn?t surprise me if Misogunia is made up of more of
those dumb ?incels? they?ve been talking about in
social media as of late. Maybe they all meet in some
back room at the Bottom of the 9th.
- DivineFem ?< : We?ll be fine, Petal. This assassination changes
nothing. But it will scare the shit out of these
Misogunia bastards.
- RosyPetal ?< : If you say so, Agatha.
----===*CHAT TERMINATED*===----
* * *
"Tamara? Wake up, dear. We need to talk."
Blinking twice, Tamara?s initially blurred vision sharpened to the point
where she could see the face of Parker Drake. "Oh...good morning,
Doctor. Is it that time already?"
Dr. Drake shook her head. "I?m afraid not, Miss Portnoy. In fact, your
time here has been extended by about a day or so. I have specific
instructions from your benefactor. The one who?s paying your bill."
"Madame...Olivia?"
Drake nodded. "She has added an extra augmentation. We?ll be doing that
today. She wants us to work on your breasts."
Tamara sighed. Great. She thought to herself. As if I didn?t look slutty
enough.
"We could pull the bandages off of your face right now, if you like."
Drake suggested. "That facial work is settled in."
Tamara shook her head. "No. I?d rather see all the completed jobs
together. I don?t mind being a mummy-head for a little while longer."
Drake giggled. "Like I said, this is only going to be a day or so. Your
workplace has already been advised accordingly. We?ll roll you into the
operation room in about an hour. You should be done a few hours later.
Tomorrow, we?ll get all those bandages off before lunchtime, and you can
finally go show off the new you."
Tamara nodded, smiling. Until someone else puts me back in here, at
least. She mused to herself. Or I put me back in here.
"Sounds good," Tamara replied.
"And, uh...speaking of your benefactor..." the black-haired doctor
added. "...she?s your first visitor today. She?s waiting outside. She
can see you for about 45 minutes."
Tamara nodded in acknowledgement. "I understand."
Drake nodded back, smiling. "I?ll send her in then."
Dr. Drake clacked back towards the door on high heels, and then stepped
out, leaving the door slightly open. After a moment, the radically
shapely, hourglass-bodied Olivia Tench swayed into the room and moved to
Tamara?s bedside. A tight, sleeveless, blood red dress clung to her
curves, capably pressing her own large breasts together to form a
fetching bit of cleavage.
"Hello, cow," Olivia began. "As you heard, I?m not done remodeling you
yet."
Tamara nodded. "I know, Madame Olivia."
"In fact, while I was waiting outside, I was considering making another
request," Olivia teased. "Perhaps...make you a perfect hourglass, like
me. But I like the idea of you swaying around with a bigger ass." The
shapely Madame then sat at the bedside, rubbing at Tamara?s neck. "Makes
it easier for me to imagine you having a cow?s tail hanging down from
your spine."
"Madame Olivia..." Tamara began. "...this...facesitting thing you want
to do with me...is this all you want me for? Because if all you want is
my lips on your snatch every Saturday night, why are you putting in for
extra work on my boobs?"
Olivia shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. You see, dear...as much as I?m sure
you will dispute this, and you can dispute it as much as you like,
you?re technically going to become one of my girls. The only difference
is that you?re going to be exclusive to me. I won?t be giving you to
anyone else. I might remind you that I will be paying you for
these...services, and we?re not talking pittances here. Combine what I
will be paying you with whatever salary Mayoress Stroud will be paying
you, and you stand to become a very, very wealthy young woman."
"That still doesn?t explain why you?re insisting on a boob job."
Olivia smirked. "I want my girls to stand out in their...sexiness. I
want them looking perfect. The way I perceive a woman to be perfect.
Besides...I?ve heard from others that you lactate a very tasty excess of
milk in those large mammaries of yours. I want them to look a little
more...inviting."
Tamara smirked back. "Do I get to charge you extra for sucking on my
teats?"
This compelled Olivia to crawl up onto the bed so she could hover over
Tamara. The bed creaked a bit as she stared into the former boy?s eyes.
"You?d do that, wouldn?t you, you smart-mouthed little bitch?" She
alluringly purred as she settled her body onto Tamara?s. "With the kind
of money you?re getting from me and the Mayoress combined, you won?t
need to worry about anything being too rich for your blood. The fastest
cars, the most lavish penthouses, a private table at the Upscale
restaurant...those price tags will feel like you?re paying pocket change
while you continue to writhe around, naked, on a bed full of cold, hard
cash."
"Yes, well...one, I don?t drive. Two, I?m happy where I?m living right
now, and three, I?m not the fine dining type," Tamara countered.
Olivia shrugged in her amusement. "More money for you, my sweet little
cow. Save up two weeks? worth of what you?ll be earning and go buy
Freedom Tower in New York City for all I care."
Tamara ignored this bit of wild conjecture in favor of another daring
proposition. "Will I get to establish concessions to this little
arrangement, Madame Olivia?"
After a moment, Olivia sighed out audibly. "I?m listening. Whether I
grant them or not is another story, but...go ahead."
"One, stay away from Elizabeth Zambrano," Tamara remarked. "This goes
for your other girls as well."
"Oh, pfft. She?s a single mom. I don?t give a fuck about her anymore,"
Olivia dismissively responded. "I?ll keep the girls away as well."
"Two, you don?t renege on what you said about me being exclusive to
you," Tamara warily added. "You want to sit on my face? You want a drink
from the teats? Pump me in the twat with a strap-on? Drag me around on a
leash? I can deal with that. You handing me off to some horny scumbag
guy on a whim, on the other hand, will seriously make me lose my shit.
And you don?t want that to happen, Madame Olivia. I promise that you
will regret it."
Tamara had Maggie Katzhoff on her mind as she voiced that warning. There
was, however, no immediate response from Olivia.
"Three, our deal effectively and permanently terminates if I find out
that you?re giving advantages and privileges of any kind to a woman
named Rita Noble that have anything to do with me," the former boy
asserted. "And that, I might add, is not negotiable."
Although Olivia?s face had a dead serious expression on it as she
listened, a smile formed when Tamara finished. "That?s it? Three
concessions? I was expecting more."
"I may add some, Madame Olivia, depending on the circumstances," Tamara
warned.
"Ohhh, Tamara, Tamara, Tamara..." Olivia rubbed both of the plus-sized
woman?s breasts, teasingly, as she spoke. "...always on the defensive. I
have to admire that about you. Okay...so, we?ve covered ?one?, so let?s
go to two. Granted. You?re mine, and mine alone. I have plenty of girls
to sell off and I don?t expect the faucet to go dry. But...let?s assume
it was, perhaps, one of your own friends. Someone you trust. Or even
Elizabeth."
Tamara sighed. "Case by case basis."
"Done." Olivia sounded playful now. "And now, three. The darkest of them
all...and for the record, I know all about her being the reason you look
so much more female than you used to look, Timothy Portnoy...and I
suspect that you want to stay away from her for that very reason. Well,
let me tell you, my little cow. I invite the competition and I?m looking
forward to keeping her away from you. Even if she gets down on her knees
and begs me, which I?m sure you would agree would be quite the sight."
"She?s not the sort to drop to her knees that quickly, Madame Olivia,"
Tamara warned.
"Well...whatever." Olivia waved a hand dismissively. "The point being,
I?ll keep her away from you...but only during the time I use you on
weekends. If she gets you outside of those hours and outside of the
building, you?re out of my hands, and you?re on your own."
Tamara nodded. "Fair."
"Soooo..." The shapely Madame feigned contemplation. "...now that all of
your more...immediate bullet points are covered, I?m afraid I?m gonna
have to even things out...and impose a concession of my own, in
fairness."
Beneath the bandages, Tamara raised an eyebrow. "That being...?"
"Ah, ah, my little bovine sexpot." Olivia held up an index finger and
waved it back and forth impishly. "I choose not to reveal this for the
moment. You will have to wait until our first meeting to find out what
that concession will be."
Shit. Tamara closed her eyes. This, by design, would be non-negotiable
as well. SHIT!
"Now don?t you fret." Olivia tapped the tip of Tamara?s exposed chin.
"This won?t violate your own concessions. I promise."
The heads of both Tamara and Olivia snapped to the door when it opened.
Dr. Drake stuck her smiling head in.
"Time?s up," she courteously reminded.
* * *
Despite the fact that Dr. Walsh...the cold-looking young woman who had
discovered Brad cowering in a corner after that nasty hacker?s sudden
assassination, and who had brought him to a hospital room...had given
him an injection meant to ease his nerves, Brad Rollins did not feel any
less traumatized by what he had been through.
All the Doctor had strangely suggested when she drove him back to the
Feetham?s dormitories was to relax in his room, and watch some TV. She
suggested this twice in response to his frayed nerves.
He still felt on edge. His body still quivered. If the medicine Dr.
Walsh had given him was supposed to settle him down, it wasn?t doing a
very good job. Either that, or the results were not as instantaneous as
he had expected it to be.
Hey...Doc says relax and watch TV? Fine. He thought to himself. After
everything that?s happened, I could use a nap.
Grabbing the remote in his dorm room, which he shared with a socially
awkward bookworm named Danny Dilton, he turned on the flatscreen TV
monitor attached to the wall.
The screen flared to life, but the picture wasn?t stable at all.
In fact, it was a scrambled flashing of several images, streaming at a
rapid-fire pace. The sound was odd, too. It was a low, continuous,
resonating tone of some kind.
Brad frowned in his confusion as he gazed at the picture, wondering what
was going on. Are the other dorms having the same panties? I
mean...issues...?
He briefly entertained the notion of turning the TV off and making
inquiries, but...he remained where he was, just staring at the screen?s
flashing images.
Words in large print were among the sexually provocative and fashionable
images as well.
MUST WEAR PANTIES
LONG HAIR IS BEAUTIFUL
DRESS LIKE A WHORE
HUNGRY FOR SEX
THE SALON IS YOUR FAVORITE PLACE
MUST GROW BREASTS
MUST VISIT THE SALON
SEX IS BEAUTIFUL
As Brad continued watching, his mouth began to hang open. He continued
to stare blankly at the screen
OBEY THE SISTERHOOD
OBEY YOUR MADAMES
These last two short sentences became more frequent during the barrage
of images. Brad completely lost track of time as he continued staring.
His breaths were long and slow as the images and the messages...aided by
the resonant tone...burned into his pliant mind.
Two hours later, his bespectacled roommate...a short-haired young man
wearing a button-down shirt and a dark blue V-neck sweater vest...came
into the dorm room.
In that moment, the TV screen suddenly cut to a typical television
program. A syndicated talk show of some kind. This caused Brad to blink
rapidly, and then shake his head vigorously.
"Brad?" Danny Dilton frowned in confusion at his roommate. "Did I catch
you in the middle of something?"
Brad looked to the younger Freshman. "No." He then rose to his feet,
speaking in a voice that was a little higher in register than Danny
remembered hearing whenever his roommate spoke. "No, I...I was just...I
was just relaxing."
Danny crossed his arms, skeptical of this explanation. "You were sitting
on the side of your bed, staring at the TV, and that?s relaxing?"
Brad shrugged, smiling impishly. "Who says I need to be spread out on
the bed to relax?" He then rose to his feet and approached Danny. "I?m
not that sleepy." Brad stopped right in front of Danny, placing a hand
on his shoulder. "So how?re you doing?"
"U-Umm..." The socially awkward young man also shrugged in response to
Brad?s inquiry, which sounded oddly flirtatious. "...okay, I...I guess.
Gotta do some s-studying."
"Studying?" Brad tilted his head to the side. "You?re always studying.
Every time I see you in here, you always have a book in front of you, or
you?re always writing something, or fiddling with calculators..."
"Dad wants me to get good grades," Danny reasoned.
"Nothing but straight ?A?s, eh?" Brad reached up and pulled off Danny?s
glasses, examining how his mystified roommate looked without them. "Have
you ever thought about getting contact lenses, Danny?"
Danny shook his head. "Too expensive. They always need replacing."
"Oh, come on." Brad began playing with Danny?s hair. "You?d look so much
better without them. I think it would be worth the dedication."
Danny once again frowned in confusion. "Brad...are you...are you OK??
You?re acting kinda weird."
Brad kept staring at Danny?s face, still holding the glasses in one hand
as his own face came closer. "I never realized how much nicer your face
looks without glasses on..."
Danny angled his head back, but Brad positioned him against a wall, and
before the nervous young man could protest, Brad?s lips were pressed
against Danny?s.
The socially awkward student?s eyes boggled. Effectively frozen in
place, Brad wrapped his arms around his roommate and continued to kiss
him on his quivering lips.
He?s...kissing me... Danny terrified thoughts kept repeating to himself.
...I?m being...kissed...by a GUY...!
As Brad held him in his arms, Danny?s boggling eyelids lowered a bit,
and the tension in his body eased.
It?s...not...that...bad... Danny quietly observed as one of Brad?s hands
went to his hair, where he began to softly stroke it. ...but...why is
Daddy always saying it?s...so bad?
Brad pulled his lips away, still holding on to his roommate. He then
pressed his forehead to Danny?s. "That wasn?t so bad, was it?" He
quietly asked.
Danny swallowed hard. "D-don?t tell anybody...please..."
"I won?t." Brad pushed a lock of Danny?s own hair out of his eyes. "I?m
sorry if I scared you. I couldn?t help myself."
"Do my...do my eyes really look good without..."
"Oh yes." Brad interjected, smiling. "You look soooo much better. You
know what else would make you look better, Danny?"
Danny responded with a curious frown.
"Longer hair." Brad fetchingly rubbed an index finger around the middle
of his lips. "You want me to kiss you again? Don?t tell me you didn?t
like it. You would have broken away."
"But, Brad..." Danny had no rational explanation for his roommate?s
radical change of personality. He even looked a little more different in
his face. It seemed...softer. "...why are yoummmmmpff..."
Now, Brad was slipping his tongue into Danny?s mouth. Something Danny
had never felt before. The kiss was obviously much deeper now. This
is...this is...
Danny?s tongue began to slip around with Brad?s. The kiss turned a bit
awkward. Drool leaked from the side of Danny?s mouth. Brad?s mouth
seemed to course-correct, though, and their mouths continued to mingle
together, passionately, for another minute before Brad brought his lips
over to his quivering roommate?s ear.
"Come with me to the Salon at the Mall," Brad whispered. "I feel like
shopping."
* * *
"Well, now...this seems awful sudd?n, Mrs. Callahan," Larry Hanel calmly
remarked in response to his newest client?s request to begin a divorce
process. "Are y? sure you?ve...thought this thing through? I
mean...nineteen years t?geth?r, an? havin? three sons don?t seem like
less?n a prosperous union t? me, if y? don?t mind my sayin? so..."
"Just what I?d expect a man to say," Delilah Callahan huffed. "Oh...and
if you don?t mind, I?d prefer that you call me Miss Stockholm from now
on."
Larry nodded calmly. "As y? wish, Miss Stockholm. So...I think it only
fair t? ask why you?ve chosen t? end th? union?"
"Isn?t it obvious? My husband is a liar and a cheat," Delilah replied.
"Goddess, I can?t believe what an idiot I?ve been. Hayley was right.
About everything. Men are slime. I can?t stand to be around them any
longer."
Larry raised an eyebrow. "Hayley?"
"Hayley McKinley. She?s someone I met when I went down to the Butterfly
Salon. "She opened my eyes to so many things since we bonded."
"An?...y? do realize that your three sons ?re men?" Larry reasoned. "Y?
can?t say what y? said about men without makin? them part o? that
problem, Miss Stockholm."
Delilah leaned forward with an icy expression. "Mr. Hanel...are you
going to help me with this divorce or not?"
"Well...there?s good news an? bad news there, sport," Larry answered.
"Good news is that if it?s a divorce y? want, I?m prepared t? help you
make that happen. All I?m doin? here is, well, playin? th? couns?lr. I
tend t? do that when it comes t? reasonab?ly stable marital unions."
The dark-haired woman...whose hair was slicked back, and hung straight
down behind her...waved dismissively and irritably over this notion.
"Just give me the bad news. If it?s cost-related, I just got a raise. I
can afford it."
"Bad news is that we?ve got no time right now t? go through th?
formalities in settin? up th? divorce action," Larry responded. "I?m
afraid y? caught me too close t? quittin? time. I know we take walk-ins,
but...well, those carry a risk. ?Specially late ones. If y? like, I can
pencil y? in for an aft?rnoon appointment ?round, say...1 pm t?morrow?"
After giving this a long moment of thought, Delilah nodded. "Fine. Put
me in for tomorrow at that time. Then I?ll show you just how serious I
am about taking the kids and starting a new life without that two-timing
piece of shit."
Larry nodded, smiling. "Jus? head on out front, an? I?ll have m? girl
Jemima set th? time up for ya."
"Very well." Delilah rose up out of her chair and straightened out her
tight and alluring dress. "Thank you, Mr. Hanel. I?ll see you tomorrow,
then."
Although Larry had no prior dealings with Delilah Stockholm, there were
definitely aspects to her appearance that certainly reeked of a recent
visit to a certain beauty salon. As the woman disappeared into the outer
lobby, the attorney couldn?t help but worry about what would happen to
Delilah?s three sons.
Shaking his head thoughtfully, he went back to his computer to check the
forms he had his new secretary, Jemima Poulson, type up for him. He
tried not to dwell too much on the woman?s radically feminine appearance
as he did.
With no typos to single out, Larry had them committed to his usual
backup folder. In so doing, the Speakabout app dinged a new message for
him.
A twinge of discomfort struck him. He could only hope that the handle
was something other than...
- BarbWire ?< : Hello, Laurie.
- BarbWire ?< : How was work today?
He did not immediately answer.
But then, he didn?t close out the Speakabout widget either, nor the
computer itself.
After a long moment, although a part of him would likely regret doing
so, his fingers went to the computer keyboard to type out a response.
- BarbWire ?< : Isn?t that nice of me, Laurie dear? I?m asking you how
your day was. Has Gwynn done anything like that as of
late?
Larry had to respond to this. He frowned as he typed.
- LarryScotFree ?< : Miss Walsh, any association between me and Gwynn
is, quite frankly, none of your business.
- BarbWire ?< : You?re absolutely right, Laurie dear...but can you
imagine what would happen if she ever saw that you?re
wearing the gift that I sent you? The gift that I never
actually asked you to wear?
Larry?s eyes closed up as he hung his head. Even now, he could feel how
the silken, feminine panties irregularly felt around his aged, masculine
posterior.
- BarbWire ?< : You shouldn?t feel so conflicted, dear. I?m not trying
to get in the way of your personal affairs. I am simply
helping you to fit in. To feel better about yourself in
our fair city. You shouldn?t think of me as a
girlfriend, Laurie. I am more like...a den mother.
Someone who can be counted on to remind you to bundle up
in a winter coat on a terribly frigid day.
- BarbWire ?< : You want me to, don?t you, Laurie dear?
- BarbWire ?< : Yes. You want me to.
- BarbWire ?< : You want me to.
- BarbWire ?< : You could still see your girlfriend. We like Gwynn. But
she needs to understand that there can be no exceptions.
We can?t have a good man like you become so successful
at what you do to the point where you become a problem.
- BarbWire ?< : It won?t hurt, Laurie. I promise. You may even enjoy it.
- BarbWire ?< : In fact, I know you will enjoy it.
- BarbWire ?< : We could make you younger. Much more attractive than you
are now. You could become the sexiest lawyer in all of
Bullchester.
- BarbWire ?< : I saw the way you were staring at my breasts the last
time we saw each other. Wouldn?t you like to have a pair
of your own?
- BarbWire ?< : We can make this happen, Laurie. We can make your life
better than it is now. We can help you to forget your loss. Start anew.
- BarbWire ?< : Isn?t that what you want? Don?t you want me to help you
with that?
- BarbWire ?< : Yes you do.
- BarbWire ?< : You want me to.
- BarbWire ?< : Say it, Larry. Type the words.
- BarbWire ?< : I WANT YOU TO, MISS WALSH.
- BarbWire ?< : Type them.
- BarbWire ?< : Type them.
- BarbWire ?< : TYPE THEM.
The onslaught of messages stopped here as Larry stared at each of them.
A mental image of Barbara Walsh standing in front of her, commanding him
to do as she asked manifested in his troubled mind.
His fingers, however, remained away from the keyboard.
And yet, he still stared at the screen. Perhaps he was curious for more
messages from the admittedly alluring woman.
The silence...and the tension...was broken by the sound of Jemima
Poulson?s voice calling out from the adjoining room, "See you tomorrow,
Mr. Hanel."
This momentarily snapped Larry out of his trance. "Have a good day,
sport!" He called back. His eyes then returned to his computer screen,
where a new message awaited him...
- BarbWire ?< : Mommy will take good care of you, Laurie dear. You have
nothing tp worry about.
Sighing irritably, his hands moved back to the keyboard, but before he
could type in a response...
----===*CHAT TERMINATED*===----
Shit. Larry hung his head again. They?ll never leave me alone. I should
just...
Without completing the thought, Larry began to shut everything in the
office down for the day. Before turning off the lights, he briefly went
into the bathroom and opened his pants.
Upon his silken panties was a moist spot where his cockhead was bundled.
It was definitely his own semen.
Be younger. Be...sexier. He thought to himself. But...would I still be
me??