Barford File 2 - The Betancourts - Chapters VII And VIII free porn video

VII: How We Do Things Three Months Ago... For the past two games, Alex had been winning their Behemongers games. The sting was beginning to wear heavily upon Tobias as he struggled to come up with a killer deck to challenge Alex's own, which he knew had cost his best friend hundreds of dollars through a combination of allowance-raise savings, birthday gifts, and Christmas gifts. Tobias didn't know Alex's inside track. Who was he conferring with to be able to come up with such a powerful collection of mutates, he wondered? Was there a strategy site his best friend was deliberately keeping mum about? Did he know someone who was in the pro leagues? Alex never said anything. Although they remained best friends from childhood, that was one secret the mullet-haired adolescent would always keep from his chunky buddy. Tonight's game, however, ran long. Tobias gave the deck he lost with another try. His last birthday saw the addition of six mutate cards which several of his school friends told him were really good draws, and they explained why. One...a gold-plated insectoid monstrosity that used to be a portly human exterminator...could make use of nearby masses of normal human bystanders as allies in a fight. The ability was called the 'App-roach Motel'. But it required six mutagen counters to cast at maximum effectiveness. Tobias only had seven. Alex tried a blitz on his turn. Three 'mongers. THREE! One had a wall- crawling ability, one had a mass of tendrils, and the third had axe- bladed hands. They had terminated Tobias's first two 'mongers, leaving him with only four to counterattack with for the remainder of the round. Alex repeated the strategy he used in the previous round. The nasty- looking, spider-faced wall crawler would slip in behind the mutates Tobias used and go for the backstab with one of his four knife-sharp hands. The seductive woman with the tendrils would then wrap and restrain the limbs of another mutate Tobias drew, leaving the axe-blader to mercilessly chop the entangled mutate into meat pies on his rage turn. Tobias matched with two mutates. The gold-plated insectoid, and a humanoid that looked like a walking colony of ugly fungi. Alex had the move turn, and he used it to position his 'mongers accordingly. Tobias smiled, hoping the advantages of the cards he played would win him the round. Tobias spent one counter to activate the antipathy effect of his fungi mutate, and then spent his remaining six to activate the Motel ability. The gambit worked perfectly. The wide-range antipathy field kept the organic tendrils...and all three mutates...from coming into contact range. The gold insectoid saw the addition of seventeen humans...all of whom had been glazed over with a gold skin effect which protected them from any physical harm...swarming two of Alex's mutates. They would hold down those two while the fungus man would leap onto...and devour... Alex's axe-handed tank mutate. Tobias then launched his insectoid upon the woman with the tendrils, tearing her to pieces as the chunky adolescent giggled gleefully. Alex just sighed. Rules were rules, and there was no getting around them. The strategy, which worked so many times for the pros, dismally failed this time. All Alex could do was try to stab at the insectoid, but he was going toe-to-toe with Tobias's mutate, and all he could do was inflict a mere gash. Not enough to take the gold-colored creature out. On Tobias's turn, the game was over as both of his mutates violently finished Alex's wall crawler off. "Lucky!" Alex griped. Tobias just grinned. "Told you I'd figure you out someday!" Alex sighed out fretfully. The loss clearly stung. "Fuck!" His chunky friend just shrugged in his reverie. "You could always take up Basketball instead." "Don't remind me," Alex lamented. "That may be my only way into Bullchester U." "Heh...good luck." Tobias gathered up his counters and cards. "So...want a shot at revenge?" "Naaah, I'm all mutated out." Alex looked mournfully at one of his mutate cards. He then looked at his best friend with a wary face. "But next time, 'monger...next time..." Tobias just giggled. "Yeah, yeah, talk is cheap, lunchmeat." * * * Coco replayed that 'monger victory...Tobias's first against Alex...in her head as one of Florian's people continued to spray gold body paint all over her bare, curvy body. Next to her, Alexis panted erotically at the feel of the cool paint covering her own naked body as Florian himself sprayed her. They had both been given the same hairstyle. An updo, with their hair gathered at the tops of their heads in a bubbly bundle. "How long will this take to dry?" Coco asked as the Jamaican woman began literally covering the naked she-male's legs...and her diminished male organ...in gold. "Is quick-dry, mon," the woman answered. "Special mix. Won't irritate de skin, won't flake. You both be lookin' like James Bond girl." "Mmmm...I always wondered how Jill Masterson felt," Alexis mused as her own visually shapely body received its second coat of gold. "This is soooo hot," She purred. "Will we be able to wash this off?" Coco wondered. "Ja," Florian confirmed. "Five minutes under hot vater. Scrub it off from zere." "Awww, why would you want to, Coco-motion?" Alexis pouted. "You don't wanna be my twin anymore?" "No, it's just..." Coco shrugged, still looking a bit fidgety. "...I'm just curious." As the work continued, Olivia Tench stepped into the room. She then scanned the work on each of the former boys. "Good, good. My two little golden girls are almost ready." "What kind of a crowd do we have out there, boss?" Alexis asked. "I'm already hungry for a veiny, six-inch hot dog to sink my gaping twat into." Olivia smiled wickedly as she stepped over to Alexis. "How does the paint feel?" Alexis giggled. "Cool. In every way. Looks cool..." She rubbed a gold hand over a dry spot of skin. "...feels cool..." She ran her tongue seductively along an arm she brought up to her mouth. "...tastes sweet." "Only the best for my girls," They both turned their heads to Coco, who still looked hesitant as the second coat was sprayed on. "I should have you both sprayed over more often. Would you like that, Coco?" The curvy former boy smiled meekly. "If it...pleases you, Madame Olivia." Every time Olivia stepped very close to the former Tobias Betancourt, Coco felt like she was being shrunk to the size of a bug. She stared right into the she-male's eyes. "But I asked you if you would like that." She quickly brought up a hand, the fingers of which applied a light pinch to one of Coco's exposed nipples. Coco let out a feminine gasp, fearing a repeat of the squeeze Olivia once applied on a bus ride back in his Tobias days. "Yes! YES!" Coco quickly replied. "Yes, it would please me...it feels...cool, like Alexis said. It's just..." She looked down at herself. "...I've never been body-painted before." Olivia giggled as her hand released Coco's nipple. "First time for everything, my sweet little goldenbitch. I noticed you've been a bit shy with the men out there, too. I can't have that." Coco sighed. "I...I'm trying, Madame Olivia." "You're not trying hard enough," Olivia warily intoned. "Isn't Alexis giving you advice? Are you...applying it?" The former boy shrugged. "A little." Olivia sighed irritably. "Madame Olivia, I'm sorry. I-I'm..." Coco felt a warm body press against her own from behind. She then moaned upon feeling a pair of hands grasp at her large breasts. She also felt a tongue behind one of her ears. The provocations made Coco's eyes close, and her head angle back as she began panting passionately. "This is your life now, goldenbitch," Olivia cruelly reminded. "And one you rightfully deserve for trying to rob your own grandparents." Alexis continued to grasp at her best friend's tits in the manner Destiny Pendleton had taught her to do. A manner which she knew drove most women wild. A manner which made them cum in their panties within a certain period of time. Alexis grinned the entire time, knowing Coco couldn't resist the relentless pleasure building up inside her. "Th-they...uhhhh...!" Coco kept her head angled back over Alexis's shoulder as she panted heavily. "...they mmm-mmmmmade me doo...oohhh...ooooohh!! Mmmade me...me...guhhh...d-doooo iiiit....!" Olivia grinned. "I know they were gonna give you a cut of the spoils. You can't lie to the Sisterhood, and get away with it, Coco. You were mine the moment you laid eyes on me on that bus." "Relaaaaax..." Alexis purred into Coco's ear. "...just enjoy it, you naughty little sexpot. This is who we are now. We're sexual creatures, you and I. We suck, they fuck. An' we love every little minute of it, baby," She then began to nibble Coco's gold-painted earlobe. Olivia brought her lips to Coco's other ear. "You'll break," She softly, wickedly assured. "They always do." Gesturing to Alexis to go low, Alexis released Coco's breasts and dropped to her knees, knowing what she was to do next as her hands went for Coco's exposed nether region. Olivia's hands then grasped at Coco's breasts briskly as her lips connected with Coco's, kissing very deeply as Alexis's hands began pleasuring her down below. One hand was at her diminished cock, while the other was burying her fingers into Coco's anus. All Coco could do was moan out as the sensual corruption of the mind of the former Tobias Betancourt continued. By the time both Olivia and Alexis were finished, Coco needed a few minutes to recover. "Don't forget..." Alexis whispered into Coco's ear. "...we're trying to help you. Just go with it!" Olivia gestured to the vanity area of the dressing room as she walked towards the entrance door. "Now get your makeup on and get out there, both of you." Her mind now clouded over with a need for sex, Coco walked alongside Alexis...the both of them now completely covered in gold paint...as they approached the vanity to finish getting ready. I should never have agreed to help them. Coco lamented to herself as she applied her mascara alongside Alexis. I'm such a dumb slut. * * * "Whaddya mean, 'it didn't work'?" Arnold griped. "All that time at Computer Camp, and you can't hack this shit?" "It's not actually hacking, Dad," Tobias explained. "You got their passwords, remember? One for grandma's account, the other from grandpa's. For the Veterans funds, I need to use this old palm pilot I got off eBay and the fake credit card attached to it to get at the Vet stuff. All I have to do is put the card in and the palm pilot program..." "Yeah, yeah, whatever," Arnold irritably interjected. "Just do what ya gotta do." Leslie stood alongside Arnold as she watched Tobias enter the password for Glenda Hemingforth's bank account. She had Tobias click into the checking account to see the thousands of dollars in pure credit her grandmother had amassed over the years. Leslie grinned wickedly. "Enough for a new car and two houses. We can finally junk that shitty station wagon we've been using." As Tobias had demonstrated his talent for going into computer-based bank accounts to his father, the demonstration rewarded him with enough money out of Harvey Betancourt's account for Arnold to purchase the tacky toupee' he was now wearing to cover his bald spot. "Wait..." A thought occurred to Leslie as her eyes went from the monitor screen to her son. "...won't you be traced if you use that palm pilot thing?" Tobias shook his head. "Part of the Palm Pilot program's perks. Can't be traced. Just goes up as a fake transaction on the credit bill. Not like grandpa will notice." "Doubt he'd care if he did," Leslie mused aloud. "He's so old, he probably doesn't remember the last time he peed in the diapers he's wearing." "I'll be too happy to not have to drive him around anymore," Arnold noted. "Fuckin' guy moves like a slug." After a moment of watching Tobias curiously go through Glenda's credit records, a thought occurred to Leslie as she turned her head to her husband. "How much do you think we'd get if we hocked that Purple Heart of his?" she asked. * * * As she quietly reflected on the past, a much older, a gray-haired, and a much more horrible-looking Leslie Betancourt laughed contemptuously as she continued to spend her cold evening sitting at the latest rest stop in her wanderings: a bus stop, her shopping cart full of terrible- smelling clothes, rags, and bags of discarded, half-eaten food nearby. "Heh...Purple Heart. Coulda gotten a mint offa dat shit," she mumbled to herself as she continued to sit, alone, on the metal bench of the roadside depot, looking at no one in particular. "'Nough money to get outta dis trap town..." She rose up, looking around at the homes that were beyond the front lawns on both sides of the road. "...you're all kiddin' yerselves! ALLA'ya! It's a fuckin' TRAP!! Da whole fuckin' town! Dey'll put ya sons in skirts!! Make bitches outta ya daughters! Dey'll fuckin' lie to ya face, ya fuckin' sheep! Goddamn snowflakes...ain't got da guts ta stand up...well, I'm fuckin' standin'! Ain't no one gonna shut me up!! Shit...I need a fuckin' drink..." She stumbled back into the metal bench, her aged posterior landing hard on the surface. "OWW!! Put a goddamn cushion on dese things, why don'cha?? SHIT! Whole town's fulla shit..." She laid across the benches now, putting herself in a position to try and get a nap in as she continued to rant under her breath. "...whole fuckin' town..." Leslie was already bundled twice over in stench-ridden rags and soiled clothing to make it possible for her to achieve a minimal level of comfort as she struggled to find a comfortable position on the metal bench to get a nap in. It seemed that the only places where she actually did find some feasible comfort in her wanderings, since being kicked out of the mall, were areas that Leslie was banished from by patrolling police officers within minutes of settling in. She was still muttering unintelligibly when a man in a plaid, button- down shirt, a short head of brown hair parted to the side, khaki-colored dress pants and a pair of black-rimmed glasses, holding onto a soft, brown leather bag resembling a briefcase, stepped over to the bus depot and scanned the road in the direction where the bus was to approach. He looked for telltale headlights. For the moment, there was nothing. Breathing in, the nerdy-looking man...who looked to be in his mid to late 30s...picked up on a foul scent. Frowning in confusion as he tried waving off the terrible odor, he turned towards the bus stop...and found the source of the smell. Or was it the shopping cart full of garbage that was near the stop? One eye curiously opened to a slit on the old woman's face. Seeing the outline of a man minding his own business was enough to bring her out of her attempt to get some shuteye. "'ey." The decrepit woman rose to a sitting position, keeping her now fully open eyes on the bystander. "'EY!" she called out, louder this time. Frowning once again, the man's head snapped over towards the homeless derelict. "Y' got somethin' t' eat? Ehh?" The man shook his head. "No, sorry," He replied in a nice-sounding voice. He then turned away from her to resume his waiting game. Leslie took a couple of steps towards the man. "Why y' dress so nerrrdy?? Ehh?" The bystander did not respond. Just pretend she isn't there. He thought to himself. Wish I didn't have to ignore that damn smell at the same time. "Y' know what happens t' people like you here? In this town??" Leslie called out. "Dey gonna put you in fuckin' skirts! Dat's what dey gonna do, ya nancy boy! Dey got ya right where dey want ya, sissy!" The man kept quiet, and kept his eyes on the road, hoping to see the telltale lights of a forthcoming bus at some point. He hoped that she wouldn't touch him during her obviously mad ramblings. After everything he had been through thus far since becoming a teacher of computer science at Feetham's University, the last thing he needed was to be physically accosted by a horrible-smelling derelict. "Dey fuckin' took my son!" Leslie angrily lamented, still standing close to the computer teacher. "Took my husband! Y'know he wears a stupid hairpiece?? Makes 'im look so fuckin' silly! Stupid asshole...why're people so fuckin' stupid?? Why doesn't anyone...anyone LISSEN T'ME??" He had no choice but to turn to her and rebuke. The smell she was giving off was nauseating now. "Look, just go back over there and get some sleep, will you? I just wanna get the next bus! This is a bus stop! I just want the next bus!" Leslie responded by throwing her arms out to the sides, and backing off. "Oooookaaay! Ooookaaaay! Big ol' nancy-boy jus' wants a bus! Know what y'should do? Get a GUN! Get a gun...hold it to th' driver's head an' tell 'em...'get me outta dis fuckin' town, or I'll blow ya damn brains out! DAT'S wha'chu should do, sissy! Know why? 'Cause dis whole mutha- fuckin' city is a TRAP! It's a FUCKIN' TRAP!! Y'ain't neva gettin' outta here! NONE a' yaz!!" As if on cue, the bystander finally saw the headlights he was waiting for on the horizon. He heaved a sigh of relief. All he needed to do was to hold out until it came to a stop near him. "'Ey. EY!!" Leslie called out, stepping towards him once again. "Y' trapped! Howzat make ya feel? Ehh? Hope y' like bras, ya geeky little shit, cuz yer gonna be wearin' em!" The computer teacher kept his eyes on the approaching bus, which unfortunately stopped at a red light. Great. He lamented to himself. Another few seconds of gloom and stench. You can do this, Philip Patterson! "'Ey..." Leslie now nudged at Philip. "...giddouda dis town. Jus' go. FUCKIN' GO!! Y' don' belong 'ere! Go find a nice geek lady somewhere else!" Philip sighed out irritably, turning to her. "Miss, please don't touch me, okay?" He angrily fired out an index finger towards the metal bench. "GET BACK OVER THERE!" he then yelled. "Get out!" she shot back. "GET OVER THERE!!" Philip yelled, his voice breaking a little. "GET OUT!!" was Leslie's angry reply. The bus then finally, mercifully stopped as Leslie stumbled back to her rusty shopping cart to find something to throw at him... ...but he was already on the bus, his fare paid, and was already looking for an available seat as Leslie threw a half-eaten chicken leg at the bus. As her aim was so horribly off, it did not even hit the bus, but was rather thrown behind it. The bus then roared away as Philip settled into a window seat. Turning to the rapidly-departing bus, all she could do was scream out her last condemnation. "YER ALL FUCKIN' FUCKED!! FUUUUUUCKED!!" she fruitlessly cried out before muttering her way back to the metal bench, where she once again struggled to find a comfortable position to achieve a nap with. Barely an hour passed before the flashing lights of an approaching police car... ...and then the interruption of a pair of police officers, enforcing the Mayoress's no-loitering laws that were in effect at the bus stops, would rudely bring Leslie's attempt to an end once again. * * * With the suggestive melodies of a Lords of Acid song entitled "The Most Wonderful Girl" playing, out came the "golden girls"...Coco and Alexis...to the raucous cries of a stimulated group of men, many of whom raised their beer bottles as they came out. The two former young men practically moved in unison as they neared a dance pole. Coco tried to look as seductive as she could as she moved, although dancing alongside Alexis...who was far more effective at drawing attention by comparison...mitigated Coco's shortcomings as they continued to sensually move, undulating their bodies in a serpentine fashion as they lingered on both sides of the dance pole. They licked at it as if it were a phallus. They climbed up on it. They swung their bodies around it. Alexis even hung upside down from it, a come-hither grin on her face as she undulated her body once again. As she did this, Coco slid her back against the pole, slowly up, and slowly down, while groping one of her fleshy, gold-painted mammaries. Thinking about Jake, the big, black man who had helped Tobias get home one night in the early days of his subjugation, made Coco's act of being hot and bothered much easier. She also remembered the mantra Alexis had always reminded her about. I know you want it, but you can't have it. This, in itself, proved helpful in establishing herself as a desired sexual creature. They want me. Coco told herself as she writhed against the pole. But they won't get me. They can't...they can't have these tits and ass. They're MINE. When the song switched to the "Goldfinger Theme" sung by Shirley Bassey, Coco lowered to her knees as Alexis rubbed the pole between her breasts above her. She then pulled down the rear of her panties, pressed the pole between her buttcheeks and began rubbing them up and down. This had the audience howling with arousal. Even Alexis looked surprised. "Daaaaamn, Coco!" Still rubbing her breasts against the pole, the grinning Alexis lowered herself until she could give a loud slap to one of Coco's gold-painted buttcheeks. "You randy little slut!" Back on their feet, Coco rubbed the pole between her own breasts, with Alexis rubbing them beneath hers. Up, and down. Up, and down. They continued this rubbing motion while they wrapped their arms around their backs in an erotic embrace, separated only by the pole between them. Coco stared into the eyes of her best friend as they bobbed up and down in unison. Alexis stared back, grinning as she licked around her red-painted lips. Alexis then grabbed Coco's hair and pulled her head back so that she could run the tip of her tongue against Coco's neck. Releasing her hair, they then began running their tongues up along the chrome-plated surface of the pole as if it were a huge cock. They kept staring into each other's eyes the entire time. They then stepped away from the pole and wrapped their arms around each other. Maintaining a lustful gaze on each other, Alexis began mouthing words to the woman that was once the childhood friend of Alex Lattimer. I love you. Alexis's lips clearly, communicatively mouthed. I really wanna fuck you. They both lowered to their knees, Coco positioning herself in front of Alexis, who slipped a hand beneath the rear of Coco's panties. That hand's fingers then dug into Coco's anus, and began to wiggle around provocatively. Coco began to pant heavily as her head angled over Alexis's shoulder. Licking at Coco's ear, and then sucking at her earlobe, Coco began to moan out. Olivia, watching from a monitor in her office, was already in her office seat, slipping her hand into her own panties, openly masturbating to the sight of her golden girls pleasuring each other in such a wildly erotic fashion. As the song began building to its loud conclusion, they were well into their wild moaning as the men watching them cried out in appreciation of the sexual activity. They ended their exotic dance staring into each other's eyes yet again, still seated on the floor, and then snapping their heads, lustfully, towards the audience. The men were on their feet as they clapped hard and loud, wolf-whistling and whooping wildly. The golden girls of Mistresses were clearly a hit. Being close to each other was clearly arousing the girls themselves, however. Even as they held their end-of-dance pose for a long moment. They were tired, of course, and they knew they'd need a moment to get back in the dressing room to touch up. Coco was already looking forward to the kind of money she would make from table dances following that performance. Once they rose to their feet and swayed their way over to the dressing room, other girls stepped up to the area to continue arousing the crowds. Once Coco and Alexis were in the dressing room, Alexis pushed the door shut and then grabbed Coco's head, planting a deep kiss on her lips. "You got me so horny out there..." Alexis cooed as she kissed, and as the Dressing Room door opened once again. "...I wanna fuck you raw. I'm gettin' us a two-way dildo." Olivia Tench, however, interrupted the idea, grabbing Coco's shoulder. "Not so fast, goldenbitch. You have a VIP to entertain," She then turned her head to Alexis. "You touch yourself up and get back out there." Although visibly stung from being denied the chance to enjoy a shared, two-sided rubber phallus with her best friend, she bobbed her head in acknowledgement. "Yes, Madame Olivia." The radically shapely woman's hands then went to Coco's breasts. "You've come a long way from that chunky, naughty boy I caught staring at me on a bus. You must have had a hard-on looking at me, yes? Well, now guys are feeling the same way whenever they look at you, my curvy little goldenbitch." "May I ask who the VIP is, Madame Olivia?" Coco asked. A wicked smile slowly formed on the woman's face. "A surprise. He's also going to be our newest security man, so you'll be seeing plenty of him from now on," Olivia then lightly grasped Coco's arm and led her back outside, walking past several men, one of whom managed to apply a sharp pinch to Coco's butt as she passed. Initially surprised by the unexpected indulgence, Coco remembered how she was to behave upon receipt of such things, and she flashed a flirtatious smile to the pincher, who turned out to be a rowdy-looking truck driver drinking beer with his friends. Olivia then stopped in front of a closed, purple-painted door, and pointed to it. "You'll find your VIP right in there. Don't keep him waiting," She then clacked her heels away from the area to return to her office. Taking a deep breath, the gold-painted shemale's right hand came up and grasped the gold-plated doorknob. Turning it, she pushed it open and stepped inside. When the bulky black man inside rose to his feet, Coco's jaw loosened, and hung down in disbelief. It was Jake, the muscular ex-Marine who had so generously given him a lift back home. All she could do in that moment was to keep staring at him, slack-jawed. The rush of excitement was instantaneous. What was left of her painted manhood was now rock-hard and erect between her legs. It was too small to create any kind of a bulge in her panties, though. Jake stepped over to her as she kept staring up at him. "You must be Coco," he began. "I saw some o' that show on one o' those monitors. Y'sure know how t' get the crowd goin', golden girl." Coco stopped hyperventilating for a moment to acknowledge him, placing her hands on his chest to savor his perpetual warmth. "Hhhhi...hi, Jake," She quietly began. The taller black man now frowned in his confusion. "You...you know me??" Coco rubbed the side of her golden head against Jake's broad chest as she continued panting. "Ohhhh, Goddess, I missed you sooooo much..." Jake's eyes widened, trying to figure out who this gold-painted woman was. "Who th' hell are you?? How d'you know me??" He grabbed Coco's head, holding it with both hands angrily. "HEY!!" This, however, only served to make Coco even more hot and bothered. Her eyes were passionately closed as he savored the touch of his hands around her chin. "I'll...I-I'll never forget how nice you were to me at the bus stop near the mall...y-you were waiting...for your car to come back from the repair shop..." Another frown from Jake as he held Coco's face steady, concentrating a long, hard gaze upon the face. "Kiss me, Jake..." Coco quietly pleaded. "....oh, Goddess, kiss me, please..." The black man's expression seemed to freeze as the gold-painted woman's identity finally dawned on him. What quietly shocked him was that the descriptions this exotic dancer was giving him was a situation involving a young man who was somehow infatuated with him. He could see traces of that young man in this gold-painted woman's face. He could feel her trembling with desire as he continued to hold her. "Put your hands on me, Jake," She then passionately whispered, her eyes filled with a yearning to touch his bare brown body once more. "Please." His hand immediately went to Coco's crotch. The diminished nub he felt there made it clear that the attractively curvy woman in front of him was once a male. "Are you..." Jake's eyebrow raised up. "...Toby??" Coco continued to look submissively up to him. "I-I was. I mean...I used to be. But I was...I was bad. I...I helped my parents steal money from my grandparents. I'm so ashamed of what I did..." She lowered to her knees slowly. "...I'm so bad...sss-sso dirty..." Jake, however, also lowered to his knees. Concern was in his eyes as they looked into Coco's yearning pupils. "Did they do this to you?" He gestured towards the door, frowning. Coco brought her face closer to his, though. Her eyes were passionately half-lidded. "I deserved it. I'm so bad, Jake..." She brought her lips closer to his, "...I'm so bad..." She rubbed her lips against his. "...bad..." She rubbed them again as she lightly kissed him. "...bad..." Jake, however, could not reciprocate. He was too shocked at this revelation. He needed answers. Rising to his feet, he immediately went to the door. Coco rose up as well, looking concerned. "Jake? Where are you..." The large, bald man snapped a furious gaze to Coco, which caused the she-male to gasp, girlishly, and recoil a bit. "You stay here," he firmly intoned before pulling the door open and stepping outside of the table dance room. "Y-yes, Jake," Coco replied, to no one in particular. Her head then drooped down despondently. Angrily making his way towards the office which he knew the woman called Olivia Tench occupied, he furiously pulled that door open after walking over to it, and slammed the door behind him. Olivia, quietly sitting at her desk, just smirked as she looked at him furiously approach the desk. "Please. Don't bother knocking," she sarcastically quipped. Jake's eyes flashed with obvious, wide-eyed anger. "You put me in a room with someone who used t' be a man??" Olivia just giggled. "I had a feeling your moral quandaries would make you a possible problem. I should bear that in mind if I ever consider hiring another ex-Marine." "I KNOW THAT KID!!" Jake yelled. "I know you know him," Olivia shot back, countering with a much more firm voice. "What I told you about him, though, was the truth. Did Coco tell you what she did when she was Tobias Betancourt?" Jake sighed irritably. "Somethin' 'bout...stealin' money from his grandparents." "And you don't see the cruelty in that?" Olivia reasoned. "Not caring about his Mom and Dad turning the bank accounts of their own parents into a personal ATM? You don't think there needs to be justice served?" "But he's just a damn kid!" Jake countered. "Pfft. He goes to Middleton," Olivia waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, an' that makes it okay for you t' make him a girl??" Jake challenged. "That's how we do things here in Bullchester, soldier." Olivia now had a stern expression on her face as she glared at the ex-Marine. "You could say karma is more of a bitch here than anywhere else..." She rose to her feet and slowly walked over to Jake. "...but we can also help you, too. I need you, and not just because of Coco. I need you to keep her, and the rest of my girls safe while they're working. What would you be willing to ask of us in return?" Jake frowned in confusion. "What, you think you some kind a' damn genie or somethin'?" "This would be in addition to your salary, of course," She stepped back over to her desk and began manipulating a computer mouse around a soft black pad, making several clicks and spinning the mouse wheel between clicks as her eyes gazed upon a flatscreen monitor. "You still keep in touch with your family, don't you, Jake? You have grandparents of your own?" Jake's eyes flared with anger now. "Hey...you ain't thinkin' that I'd..." "Just answer the question!" Olivia yelled, her own eyes flaring back at him. After a tense moment, Jake's face softened. "My mother. Harriet. Dad died durin' th' Korean War." Olivia nodded, confirming information she had previously extracted about the ex-Marine. "And is there anything you would want us to do for your mother, Jacob?" Grinning skeptically, the bald-headed former Sergeant shook his head. "You'd have t' turn back time." Olivia smiled back, also aware of Harriet's fondest desire, which was something the Sisterhood could easily accomplish. "We can do that for her, soldier. We can make her young again." "Uh-huh." Jake nodded in his clear disbelief. "An' I'm Samuel mutha- fuckin' Jackson." Smirking, Olivia swiveled the monitor around so Jake could see a digital likeness of an old couple. The man had a cane and wore a brown baseball cap, and the woman used a four-legged walker. "Harvey and Glenda Betancourt. This picture was taken a couple of weeks ago when they entered the Golden Sunshine Retirement Home, which was where Tobias's parents were going to abandon them before taking control of their bank accounts...but they didn't know about the Retirement Home's little secret. A rejuvenating bath." She swiveled the monitor back towards her and once again manipulated the mouse on its soft pad, left-clicking a few times before swiveling the monitor back towards Jake. The images he saw looked radically different from the elderly, hunched- over couple he had been shown. He now saw a healthy-looking, and very nicely-built, young man with a head of short hair in a 1940s serviceman style standing next to a very attractive young blonde who also had a retro hairstyle from the same era. Olivia had also cleverly arranged the photos to allow Jake to see them in a before-and-after fashion. Their faces were clearly identical when he mentally removed the wrinkles and the liver spots. "That other photo was taken two days ago," Olivia reminded. "And no, those are not retouched or otherwise altered images. If you took us to court over them, you'd be wasting your time." Jake's eyes were wide as saucers, however. Even if this was just an elaborate and extravagant scam, he could at least put Harriet up in a place where she would make a few new friends and have a social life. Harriet lived alone, and her snippy adolescent granddaughter Kanesha was the closest thing to a nanny that she had. As Kanesha was the furthest thing from a friend(and she had grown to hate playing caretaker to his Mom), he figured that even if this rejuvenation thing was indeed a lie, Jake could effectively get Harriet away from Kanesha and allow the latter to go back to her mallrat's life and her pink-clad, self- important socialites. His eyes went to Olivia. "Just...put Harriet up at that home. Just do that. You do that, I'll take ya damn job. Not like I got anythin' better t' do anyway." "I need you to get acquainted with Coco, as well," Olivia reminded. "Find some common ground between you. Or just...make her your bitch. I don't give a fuck. Just don't slap her around, or I promise you're gonna regret it. I see so much as a single bruise on her that gets traced to you, and we're gonna feed your ass to the Farm." Jake frowned in his confusion. "The Farm?" Olivia grinned. "Don't ask." * * * From: Maude To: Rosalind Subject: Bye bye, Barry It's done! I confirmed that Barry is among the crop of new residents at the Farm. I don't even wanna know how that piece of shit is gonna end up. Do me a favor and tell Harvey about the job opening...and Rosa? Don't fuck with the guy's head anymore. I like Harvey, and I think he and Glenda were made for each other. If he's interested, tell him to come see me. I need to get him certified before I put him on the payroll. Maybe we can convince Glenda to start working at the Butterfly Salon? I'm told she's a really good retro hair stylist. - Maude * * * As he pulled the old station wagon into a curbside space, Arnold Betancourt found an odd thrill in going behind his wife's back to actually engage in an extramarital affair. When he had initially met Leslie Hemingforth back in their High School days, Leslie was just as wicked as she was now, and she had an entourage of tough girls following her around, looking for nerdy or socially awkward girls to bully around. Arnold himself had a knack for strong-arming weaker boys as well, so it seemed like fate that they would become better acquainted. He never thought he would ever again meet anyone quite as nasty as Leslie. Until, of course, he met the woman whose door he stood in front of at this very moment. Pulling out the business card Iris Cooper handed him before leaving the Rip N' Ride, he confirmed the address that was written on the back of it before pressing the doorbell button. Below the address were three words that made him understandably curious: DON'T GIVE UP. After pressing the doorbell, he waited. Five quiet minutes passed, and it got to the point where Arnold swung his arms around idly as per his habit whenever he was beginning to feel impatient. He rang the doorbell again, having heard activity within the large and very upscale residence he chose to visit. Half a minute later, the door finally opened, and there she was. A sour look was on the big-breasted blonde's face as she stepped in front of Arnold. Her eyes scanned his body from top to bottom. A silken white bathrobe was the only thing covering her body. "Get the fuck outta here, asshole," Iris growled. "Go back to your crummy wife," She then slammed the door. Crestfallen, he started to turn away from the door...but it was then that the three words on the card began to make sense to him. DON'T GIVE UP. He turned back to the door, and gave the bell another ring. Five quiet minutes passed. He rang the bell again. Another five minutes passed. He pressed the button again. Within five seconds, the door flew open once again. Iris scowled angrily upon Arnold, who had a neutral expression as Iris yelled. "Still here??" Iris's eyes flared in anger. "I ain't takin' sugar daddies! PISS OFF!!" The door slammed shut. Five minutes passed. Arnold pressed the button. And again after five minutes. And again after five minutes. And again after... The door flew open. "Goddess, you must be some kind of stupid. I'M MARRIED! GET! LOST!" The door slammed shut. Five minutes passed. Arnold pressed the button. And again after five minutes. And again after ten minutes. Fifteen minutes. Iris's eyes narrowed as the door opened once more. This time, she just stared at him with an icy, penetrating gaze. This time, Arnold broke the ice, if only to justify his persistence. "I'm not giving up," he calmly vowed. Iris's eyes angled up. Her pupils focused on the clear oddity that was on Arnold's head, concealing his bald spot. Iris had to giggle over how tacky it looked as she stepped up closer to him. "You look so, fucking, ridiculous." The wicked woman's arms crossed in front of her as she kept her gaze on Arnold. "If you don't get on your knees right now, I'm calling my husband, and I'm gonna tell him you raped me." And down he went, settling his body weight upon his knees as Iris watched. She shook his head in her disappointment. "Well. Your family life must suck," Iris then swiped the hairpiece off of Arnold's head, forcing the kneeling auto mechanic to wince with his clear embarrassment. "I'll just hold on to this. Crawl on in, worm." And in he crawled, on his hands and knees. Once Arnold was past the door, Iris closed it behind him. "Perfect." She grinned wickedly. "Now, I've got you for trespassing. Now, your only salvation is for you to do exactly what I tell you. This will keep me from calling the Bullchester Police. We'll start with the floor of this Foyer area. See all of these footprints?" Arnold looked down at the hardwood surface of the area, and indeed saw an abundance of boot and sneaker-patterned marks. The marks violated the glossy sheen of the floor. "I was going to get started on cleaning it, but...all that bell-ringing you've been doing fucked up my initiative," Iris fabricated. "There's floor wax at that corner there. I want every print on this floor removed. I want it spotless. I don't want to see the faintest outline of a footprint by the time I come back to check on your progress. I know your smartphone number, and I know your home address. You leave without doing any work, and you will be well and truly fucked." Arnold frowned skeptically. "You know my...?" Iris then recited every digit of his smartphone number. She also shared her knowledge of the landline he occasionally used back home, and she followed this up by flawlessly reciting the full address of the Betancourt residence. Arnold's eyes widened. "How the fuck did you...?" "Excuse me?? What did you say?" She pulled out her smartphone, her eyes flaring angrily. "Fuck you. I'm calling the cops." "NO! WAIT!" Arnold raised his hands fearfully, still on his knees. "I- I'm sorry, Mrs. Cooper." "Prove it." Iris then pointed to the floor. "Get to work." Looking over to the corner with the plastic bottle of floor wax, he noticed that something was missing. There were no rags or washcloths. There was just the floor wax. "U-uuummm..." He nervously turned back to Iris. "...may I...may I ask what I am supposed to use to, um...apply the..." Smirking, Iris held out Arnold's hairpiece. Once the hairpiece's owner hesitantly took it, Iris turned around and disappeared into the room that was next to the foyer area. Arnold just stared down at his expensive patch of fake hair for a long moment. He eventually relented to the curiosity over how well it would work during the cleaning job he had been blackmailed into starting. It then occurred to him that he needed to clear aside the stuff that was on the floor of the foyer area first. After exhaling a long sigh, Arnold started working. * * * A slimmer and much more feminine-looking Arnold Betancourt...his bald spot in the process of growing a fresh new head of hair...looked down at the soft, tattered, and worn surface of the fabric that used to be Arnold's hairpiece. He remembered that he did manage to clean the foyer floor with the rug-like toupee, although he could no longer use it as a hairpiece any further. The floor wax had ruined it. Iris, of course, had let him keep it as a memento. The good job rewarded him with a more effective cleaning rag, which he had subsequently used to apply a second coat. At the end of that first night, since her husband was away on a long business trip, she permitted him to sleep with her. Such was his reward for being a good maid, and seeing as how she was fantastic in bed, the payoff was worth it for Arnold. He remembered Iris giving him more domestic cleaning jobs on his subsequent visits, and she became less nasty towards him with every completed task. Washing windows, sweeping floors, polishing furnitures, waxing floors, running a vacuum over carpets, doing the laundry...everything short of preparing meals for Iris. And all Arnold needed to do was to openly lie to his wife. Iris had conditioned him to care less for his family life, and more for the sexual rewards Iris would permit him to enjoy as compensation for the work he had done. This compensation, however, devolved from the kind of sexual interaction Iris began rewarding him with to a building need to further blossom his developing femininity. When his face began looking softer, the work Iris had him do earned him the kind of makeup necessary to make his face look more attractive. When he complained of feeling his fleshy chest bumps flop around during his work, the domestic duties he performed for Iris rewarded him with a bra, although it was the kind of bra that came with a corset because the crafty woman wanted to reshape his feminizing body as it continued to develop. And in his quiet moment alone in Iris's house, as he stared upon the remnants of the toupee that used to make him look hot, his body could hardly be called masculine anymore. His hair looked weird because the bald spot was only beginning to grow out new brown strands, while those areas that did have hair grew to resemble a mullet, and had blond highlights. The fingers of his moisturized hands had French-cut lengths of fingernails upon them, and through applications of a body wash Iris had provided him with, there wasn't a single follicle of hair left on his body. A sweet perfume scent followed him wherever he went, as well. It was a scent Iris had personally picked out for him. The frilly white choker he wore was also a reminder as to who he belonged to. Within a week, he had become Iris Cooper's personal maid, dutifully performing whatever manner of domestic service she deemed necessary for him to do for her. She had him work his way towards a prize that was far more valuable than any gift he had earned for himself through his services, and that day was rapidly approaching. She assured him that his life would never be the same again once he had earned it... ...but for now, he had more work to do, and after slipping the tattered hairpiece into a pocket of his white apron, he demurely fluffed his hair and got back to work on the furniture polishing he had been doing. * * * Alexis Lattimer lustily pressed her gold-painted body against the seated lapdance customer she was stimulating, panting and moaning to the beat of the song that was playing as she did. She was practically in his lap as she slowly gyrated her butt against the bulge of his covered privates. As she was facing away from the middle-aged man, she rubbed a hand against one side of his face as she angled her head over his shoulder. Alexis smiled as she continued to rub against the man's clothes, confident that the special body paint wouldn't rub off of her body, even when she perspired. "Aaaaah...don't you wish you were a solid gold fuck, like me?" Alexis purred as she writhed and undulated upon the panting man, who was clearly beginning to sweat. Her lips came near one of his ears as she turned around and whispered into his ear as she rubbed the front of her body against his chest. "Ssssssolid...." she hissed sensually, nibbling an earlobe. "....gooooold..." she purred. "...ffffffffffuuuuuuuuck." "Errrrh...yessss....yesss..." the man whispered. "....ohhh, God, Alexis..." She brought her face before his, and licked around her lips as she stared into his eyes. "I'd rip your shirt open, but...I wouldn't want you to arrest me for getting rrrrrough with you." "Uhhhh...it's...it's okaaaay...." the man assured as his head angled back, clearly lost to Alexis's stimulations. "...I'll just...buy another one...!" "Ohhhhh, nooooo, nonononono." Alexis shook her head, smiling playfully. "I wouldn't want you to ssssucker me into some kind of..." She grabbed his wrists and pulled them behind him, bringing Alexis's grinning face inches from his. "...entrapment. And besides...what would your wife say? Hmmmmm?" The man shook his head in denial. "Wh-what she doesn't know..." He reacted to Alexis squeezing at his groin tightly with one hand. "...wwwwoooooohhhhh!! Wwwwwon't hurt herrrrr...!" "Ohhhh, you're such a naughty little boy, aren't you, Mister big bad Bullchester Police Lieutenant?" Alexis cooed. "Mmmmmh...yyyyess..." Alexis rubbed at the caucasian-skinned Lieutenant's hair as he spoke. "....I'm soooooo baaaad..." Still grinning, Alexis's eyes returned to those of her customer. "It's time for us to stop now..." She rose to her feet as the lights went from their sensual purple glow to a brighter yellow one. "...but you can always call upon me next time, honey. Just come on back an' ask for this naughty little girl. Maybe next time we can spank each other a little, hmmmm?" The satisfied Lieutenant grinned as he, too, rose to his feet. "Ooooh, I'd like that!" Alexis giggled. "I bet you would," She re-attached her bra and slipped her feet back into her high-heeled pumps. She then gave the man a wave as she moved to the door. "Have a nice night, Lieutenant Osterman." "I-I'll see you soon, Alexis! Promise!" She did not regard him as she closed the door. A thought then occurred to him as he began to fix himself up. Wait...I never said my last name, did I? How did she...? Alexis slinked through the crowds, waving invitingly to anyone staring at her as the gold-painted she-male Alex Lattimer had become approached the dressing room. Smoothing a hand teasingly over the chest of the burly Samoan bouncer guarding the door to the dressing room, she stepped in. Her Chesire Cat's grin, however, became a look of horror as she saw a crestfallen Coco...who was holding a pair of scissors...attempt to use one of the bladed edges to slice open her arm. "NOOOOO!!" Alexis rushed forward to grab the scissors...just in time...before the blade came in contact with Coco's arm. Her emotionless expression devolved into one of extreme sorrow as tears streamed from her eyes. Alexis looked astonished. "Why the fuck did you try to do that??" Her equally gold-painted friend continued to sob, unable to get her explanation out, and Alexis wrapped her arms around her friend, squeezing her consolingly. "Shhhhh...relax. Whatever it is, I'm sure we can talk it out." "I...I don't know...why I get so upset all of a sudden...!" Coco blubbered as she continued to cry. Alexis continued to embrace Coco, their bodies swaying back and forth slowly as Coco attempted to recover enough to explain. "It's...it's Jake," Coco finally revealed. "He's such a...he's such a hot, sexy stud...so big, so...ssso dreeeeamy...Olivia told me he'd come in to visit me, but...he got upset, and he went right back out!" Coco paused a moment to hold back another crying fit. "I didn't do anything! I just...I just...answered his questions, and...and he just...he just..." "What kind of questions did he ask you?" Alexis wondered aloud. "He..." Coco's voice was just a whisper now. "...he found out...who I was...wh-who I..." Coco once again lapsed into a sobbing fit. Alexis wrapped her into an embrace once again. "He must have been a real judgmental prick to have just...hurried off like that," Alexis remarked as she continued to sympathetically hold her friend. "We should talk to somebody about that. Maybe Madame Olivia can help you get back at him for what he did." "Alexis." The sound of Olivia's voice immediately diverted the saucy sex entertainer away from Coco. She turned her head to face the dark-haired woman, who was standing next to a bald and burly black man. As Alexis approached her, Olivia gestured a thumb to the door behind her. "Get back out there. Now," She firmly instructed. With a concerned look to Coco, Alexis complied. Olivia looked knowingly to Jake as she closed the door behind her, leaving him alone with the former young man. The moment Coco saw him, she hurried over to the ex-Marine. "Ohh, Jake...I'm so sorry...I'm so sorry if I said anything to upset you! Please forgive me...!" Jake was locked in a state of indecision as he neutrally looked down to the thoroughly feminine...and admittedly very sexy...she-male Tobias Betancourt had become. He knew that what he had been told about the young man she used to be was no lie. Coco had even openly admitted to him that she had been bad. For now, however, he had to play along. If only to call Olivia's bluff on her outlandish claim that she could have Harriet's youth restored. If it was indeed the lie he believed it to be, then he would take the next moral step, and contact outside authorities in hopes of exposing what he believed to be an illicit sex operation. Olivia, however, sounded oddly sincere on her claims that Harriet could be rejuvenated, which made him want to call the radically shapely caucasian woman's bluff even more. Jake slowly brought a hand to Coco's face as she looked up at him. Not a single word emerged from his lips as the hand gently rubbed at the former boy's cheek. This was all the impetus Coco needed to wrap her arms around the bulky ex-Marine, and rub her gold-painted head against the thin shirt that was covering his broad, brown-skinned chest as if she were a cat. She purred with satisfaction as she pressed herself against the larger man. Ohhhh, yessss... Coco exulted to herself. ...ohhhh, Goddess, yes...stay with me...pleeeeaaase stay with me... Surprised at Coco's response, he wrapped his large arms around Coco, which made her wrap one of her gold-painted legs around one side of his waist. Once she felt Jake's hand hold one of her rear cheeks steady, she wrapped the other one around his waist, compelling Jake to hold that side of her posterior up as well. Jake was easily able to burden her weight as he continued to hold her up. She continued to moan softly as the bald man continued to hold her steady. I'll help ya, kid. Jake resolved to himself. I dunno how the fuck I'm gonna do it, but...I'll help ya. VIII: Bad Girls RETRO ROSIE'S ...because we can do it! Glenda Hemingforth smiled, her arms crossed beneath the swells of her rejuvenated breasts, as the signmakers finished installing the new sign over the space that used to announce the presence of an old-school tailor shop once inhabited by a kind old man who had been visited at one time by the young man Tamara Portnoy had once been. The much younger, and much more retro-attractive blonde Glenda had become had supervised every aspect of her new shop's establishment, right down to the fonts she wanted to use for the sign that was being installed. She wanted the shop to have a distinct 1940s feel, while incorporating a handful of modern aspects as well. The space below was already filled with old-school barbershop seats, an array of mirrors, pictures of WWII servicemen and U.S. President Franklin D. Roosevelt, a popular period picture of a sailor dipping and kissing a girl in Times Square on V-E Day, and a stylized radio box which transmitted the sounds of a modern satellite music station that strictly played tunes from the 1940s by the likes of Benny Goodman, Glenn Miller, Bing Crosby, and so many other Big Band melodies of the era. Old-school haircutting implements dominated the ledges by the mirrors in front of the swivel-capable seats, which could be elevated and lowered. She made sure that the seats could recline back as well. Steel-wrought sinks with round, cushioned impressions on the outer edge would permit Glenda to run her patron's hair through the water during their haircutting and/or coiffure sessions, each with deep basins to prevent spillage. Once the signmakers departed upon receipt of their completed job, Glenda turned, pushed open the glass door, and stepped into her new business, feeling understandably nervous for whatever clients she was to receive. The chiming of a group of small, gold-plated bells announced every new customer, just like the old days. Glenda chose to have her haircutter's uniform tailored, as well, to emulate the image of the fictional Rosie the Riveter herself, the iconic laborer that she chose to model her shop...and her hairdresser's image...after. She would be the "Rosie" mentioned in the sign. She wanted "Retro Rosie" to be her business pseudonym. The first hour went by quietly, although she enjoyed hearing Benny Goodman's version of Louis Prima's "Sing, Sing, Sing" playing during that time. The memory of Glenda dancing with Harvey at a party before he shipped out to Europe always re-manifested whenever she heard the lively tune. She wished Harvey were there so they could use the space between the waiting chairs and the coiffure seats to dance together, as they once did, but she knew he was busy getting himself certified as a physical trainer. He had promised to make it up to her, somehow, in the wake of his certification, which he could not reschedule. Her head lowered thoughtfully, wondering just how popular her approach would be. Perhaps this would all be a wasted effort, as this was a retro shop that had no affiliation to the much more popular Butterfly Salon she had been warned to stay away from. The notion of persisting against what she surmised to be a business juggernaut, however, gave her more of a determination to do whatever she could to make the business work. Another notion she considered was that of hiring on additional hairdressers. Would anyone actually be willing to learn how to do retro hairstyles? She did have old-school hair dryers, but they were operated by old-school controls. They still emitted the telltale whines of the machines of old when they were turned on. But that, of course, was the way Glenda had wanted it. Her chain of thought was suddenly interrupted by the sound of the chiming bells as someone walked into the shop. Glenda's head raised up... ...and when she saw Tamara Portnoy smiling at her, the blond hairdresser smiled back. The plus-sized secretary pointed to Glenda. "I assume you're 'Retro Rosie'?" Glenda nodded, smiling as she rose to her feet. "Because I can do it." After sharing a giggle, they closed the distance between them and wrapped their arms around each other in a hug. "Congratulations, Glenda," Tamara chimed as she pulled away. "The place looks fantastic." Glenda beamed wide over the compliment. "Thanks, sweetie. At least there's one person who appreciates the wartime ambience I'm pushing here." "Which will make you stand out," Tamara reminded. "People around town might start getting curious about it. You'd be surprised how fast the good word-of-mouth will spread when you get the right customers. Speaking of which..." She then pulled the hairband off of her head of long, golden-blond hair, allowing it to flow free. "...would you be alright if I could be your first customer? I could use a retro style, seeing as how I usually feel like a soldier whenever I'm in town, and the vultures are circling overhead." Glenda shrugged, clearly eager to get started. "Why not?" She gestured to one of the red-cushioned chairs. "Have a seat. Is there any particular style you wanted? I can get you a binder with some illustrations." Before Tamara settled into the seat, she rummaged a hand into the large, light brown leather bag strapped across her body. She then pulled out an old, independently-published magazine which had been turned to a full- page ad featuring one of her retro pin-up girl fashion modeling shoots. The hairstyle she wore definitely qualified as a retro hairstyle, and it was the very same ad that Rita had shown her when Tamara confronted the angry debutante at a park bench. "Can you do this one?" Tamara asked. Glenda looked at the picture closely, and then slowly nodded. "It's not a matter of CAN I do this one. It's more like, I can do this one BETTER. Whoever did your hair for this shoot could use a lesson or two." Tamara grinned. "Well, now you've got me REALLY curious," Giggling, she settled her large posterior into the waiting seat. Glenda reached over to grab a pair of scissors so she could get started on the needless lengths of Tamara's hair that needed to be cut off once she had comfortably snapped the protective, camo-green smock around the plus- sized secretary's neck. Glenda was eager to have another chat with the radically curvy woman as she began snipping the scissors at her soft, golden locks. "Soooo...how goes it on the battlefront, eh?" Tamara chuckled. "As stimulating as it's always been. Get up in the morning, cup of coffee, check for messages of random temptations from Rita Noble on the answering machine that I routinely erase the moment I hear her voice, stare at myself in a mirror for up to five minutes, settle at my desk for work, make snappy comebacks at male visitors who clearly want to jump my bones, get called in to the office of the Mayoress every so often so she can mentally undress me, go with her to lunch so she can tempt me some more while I take notes, duck into the bathroom to masturbate when I get too hot and bothered over it all, finish my shift, go home, and hope that Rita isn't waiting there to jump my bones so she can remind me that she still has power over me. Barring that? I just watch TV for awhile and go to bed." Glenda raised an eyebrow over the casually-worded elaboration. "And this is an average day for you?" Tamara smiled a bit. "Pretty much. Better than being at Rita's feet, waiting for her to tell me who she wants me to fuck next." "Hmmm." Glenda continued snipping at Tamara's locks. "This Rita person sounds, well, evil." "Vindictive is more like it," Tamara noted through the sounds of the scissors snipping. "I was the son of someone who tormented her at a summer camp when she was young. But my father died, denying her a shot at revenge when she joined the Sisterhood. So she went after me instead." Glenda stopped for a moment, frowning in confusion. "The son of..." She then remembered Tamara's revelations at the mall. "...ohhh yes. That's right. You told me you used to be a young man. Wait..." She resumed her haircutting. "...is Rita the reason you're...female?" Tamara sighed lamentedly. "Yup...but it was a really tough firebrand of a woman named Maggie Katzhoff who managed to get me away from her. You'd like her, Glenda. She's a pistol and a half. So much more of a soldier than I could ever be." "Really?? Well, if you ask me, you're right up there with the late great John Basilone, honey," Glenda turned the chair around and reclined it so she could run lukewarm water into Tamara's hair. "That man helped two brother Marines hold off a whole bunch of attacking japs at Guantanamo Bay with machine guns and earned himself the Medal of Honor. Died in '45, though. Killed in action. There's a bridge in New York, and two Navy Destroyers named after him." "Pffft." Tamara waved a hand dismissively. "I'm nowhere near that kind of hero. That sounds more like Maggie. I only know what I know because of Maggie." "Johnny had trainers of his own, though, didn't he?" Glenda mused as she lathered up Tamara's hair. "Wouldn't be the Marine he was otherwise. I'm real glad you came here, Tamara. I found our little chat at the mall very, very intriguing. Anyplace where I need to be on my toes in a sea full of potential sharks is always my kind of place. Sure beats dragging my wrinkled old keester around with the aid of a four-legged walker, wondering where all those younger years went." "Has your husband been here, Glenda?" Tamara asked. "Not yet. He's getting himself certified to become a physical trainer at Maude's insistence," Glenda answered. "That's some white-haired dish who runs the Golden Sunshine Retirement Home. Apparently, they need a new guy to run their new Gym. Harve couldn't get any answers as to what happened to Barry, though. Guess he moved on. Shame, really. He always seemed like a nice young man." Tamara nodded, already surmising that Barry had been removed through Sisterhood machinations. "And this...Maude...isn't making any moves on..." "Oh, no. Not at all," Glenda assured as she began combing out Tamara's wet hair. "I mean, yeah, I thought Maude's friend Rosalind was gonna cougar him away from me at first, but he assured me afterwards that I'll always be his Glennie Doll. Mmmm...I love it when he calls me that. Gets me all warm inside. Besides...I'd like to think I'm about as sexy as Rosa is these days." Tamara smiled. "Well...I've never met Rosa myself, but...I'll take your word for it." "She's become a pretty dangerous woman to cross these days," Glenda noted as she began rolling Tamara's wet, golden hair up in large curlers. "She's even taking advantage of a young man named Simon. I can only imagine what kind of a person he'll turn out to be once she's had her way with him. Sometimes, I wonder what kind of a person she was when she was younger." "Heh...if she's the kind of person I think she is, she'll try to press my buttons, too," Tamara mused as Glenda continued to arrange the curlers. "So while you're here, and it's just you and me, can you give me an idea who I should be avoiding?" Glenda asked as she laid in the last curler. "Who I should watch out for, at least? You already told me about the Mayoress, but...is there anyone else? What about this Rita Noble you mentioned? Is she the ringleader of this...thing?" "Thankfully, no," Tamara answered as Glenda leaned against the ledge, in front of her client, so she could listen to her. "It's a woman named Agatha that you should seriously watch out for. Especially if she gets within contact distance. The Mayoress carries the same capability." The hairdresser tilted her head to the side curiously. "Capability?" "If they ever touch you, and we're talking skin-to-skin contact, your free will is pretty much screwed for as long as they hold on to you," Tamara warned. "Your mind goes, like, haywire. No clear thought. Makes it possible for them to put suggestions into your head, and it's all you want to do when it's possible for you to do it." Glenda's eyes widened in her disbelief. "Are you saying...that they can do some kind of...of mind control? Good heavens!" "I don't know why they do it, but they can," Tamara explained. "So far, I only know that Agatha and Mayoress Stroud have that power. If one of them ever stops in to visit, you'll want to be on your guard, and pray they don't touch you for whatever reason." "And...you work for the Mayoress, don't you?" Glenda sighed sympathetically. "Wow. Has she ever...?" "Oh, yeah. A couple of times," Tamara confirmed. "Fortunately, the Mayoress and Agatha are at two extremes. Fortunately, Julia Stroud doesn't exactly see eye-to-eye with Aggie's brand of extremism. It might have something to do with the municipal responsibility that comes with being the Mayoress. She doesn't want to have to betray the people of the city just to satisfy Agatha's wants." "But...can Agatha force Julia to do something against her will?" Glenda curiously inquired. "That much, I don't know," Tamara responded. "Maybe someday, I'll see them in a convo and find out for myself...but for now, Julia's technically one of the good guys, so to speak. Women like Agatha, Rita, and a religious extremist named Gemma Schultz, on the other hand, are bad news. Your only shot at running into Gemma, assuming she doesn't take an interest in your shop here, is if you do any grocery shopping at..." "Gourmandizer's?" "Yup, that's the place," Tamara confirmed. "She'll try to sell you on some ridiculous religion called the Divine Feminine. Apparently, they think that John the Baptist was a transsexual, and they've based their entire belief system around that. Gemma's a real fruity pebble about it. Always hungry for potential converts, too. I would have been part of her flock if it weren't for Maggie Katzhoff." "This Maggie Katzhoff sounds like the angel on your shoulder, Tamara," Glenda astutely observed. Tamara nodded, smiling appreciatively. "She sure is." The bells at the door jingled once again, and an inviting smell filled Tamara's nose as a perfume-scented platinum blonde stepped in wearing a sinfully attractive red dress. When her smouldering eyes met Glenda's, a smile formed on her lips. "So this is your new place, eh?" The woman's husky voice cooed. "I like it. Definitely retro. Has Harvey seen it?" "Not yet," Glenda replied. "He's getting certified today." The woman then walked over to where Tamara was sitting, noticing that she was staring at her. "Mmmm...and who do we have here, hmmm? Your first customer?" She then sat on Tamara's lap, facing her as both women reacted with visible surprise at the woman's audacity. Her face came within inches of Tamara's. "I couldn't help but notice how you were staring at me. You like what you see, curvy?" "Uhh, y-yeah." Tamara smiled nervously, despite herself. "Nice, uh...nice perfume, too." The woman pressed her forehead against Tamara's as she grinned. "You should get some. Got it at the Mall. D?sir Fumant. Karelian brand. Remember that name," She purred it into Tamara's ear. "D?sir Fumant." "Uhhh... D?sir Fumant," Tamara repeated. "Got it." "Good, because the next time I see you, I want you to smell juuuust...like...me," One of the woman's hands groped at Tamara's right breast. The plus-sized secretary was already getting excited despite herself. "Change your hair color, too. You're better off as a platinum blonde, curvy. Juuuust...like...me." Glenda sighed irritably. "Can't that wait?" The woman giggled, keeping her body enticingly draped against Tamara's. "Next time you come here...and you will keep coming back here...you get your hair color changed, seeing as how you and I seem to be two of a kind. Don't you agree, curvy?" "Uhhh...sure," Tamara answered. The woman's expression became a little more seductive. "You're still staring at me, curvy...but that's okay. I'm staring, too. You feel like a bed with soft pillows," She brought her lips very close to Tamara's. "I could lie against you all day," the woman whispered. She then pressed her lips against Tamara's. The both of them began to moan softly as the woman lingered the kiss. After a long moment, she pulled away slowly, keeping her eyes locked on Tamara's. "This place is the only place you're gonna go to to get your hair done, curvy," The woman purred. "Are we clear?" Tamara shrugged, smiling meekly. "Way ahead of you. I'm...already sold. Hell, I'll even spread the word." The woman finally dismounted the enthralled customer as she smiled back. "Good girl. Maybe someday, I'll repay the favor," Her heels clacked on the ground as she slowly walked past Glenda. "See you later, 'Rosie'." Once the woman was gone, Tamara and Glenda looked to each other, speaking the name in unison. "Rosa." They both giggled, amusedly, over this confirmation. "I'm really sorry about that," Glenda remarked. "As you can see, she's...oversexed." "It's okay," Tamara assured, dismissing the concern. "I'm kind of spoken for anyway. Which reminds me...I have to bring Elizabeth over here someday." "Why didn't you say anything to Rosa, though?" Glenda wondered aloud. "Why didn't you, like, stop her or something?" "Well, for one thing, that was some seriously nice perfume she was wearing," Tamara admitted. "That's more or less how I work, though. I play along with whatever assertions are laid on me. Hell, I even give 'em a try if I think it's not gonna kill me. I'm often told how risky that is, but...so far, it's kept me well-informed." "So...you use a submissive demeanor...to your advantage?" Glenda surmised aloud. "More or less," Tamara confirmed. "Well, I have to agree with those who are telling you how risky that can be, honey," Glenda warily remarked. Tamara just smiled. "So is living in Bullchester." After thoughtfully nodding, Glenda rolled the hair dryer over to where Tamara was sitting and placed the dome over her client's damp hair. Tamara heaved a deep, relaxing breath, and gently closed her eyes as the dryer came to life, and went to work on her hair. For once, Tamara didn't have to worry about the dangers of subliminal messages messing with her mind as she calmly waited for the cycle to finish. * * * An insidiously wide grin was on the face of Alexis Lattimer...who was clad in an all-fishnet dress this evening...as she slinked into the lapdance room, which was already bathed in sensual purple lighting. She knew exactly who had wanted to see her once again. "Back for more, eh, Lieutenant Osterman?" Alexis purred, stepping up to him and rubbing her hands over his shoulders. "I saw you out there while I was dancing, you know. Saw you..." Her lips moved near the man's ear. "....Osssster-a-cizing me." "Y-yeah, well..." The Police Lieutenant clearly sounded flustered. "...you're a hard...person to forget." She brought her eyes mere inches from her customer's as she ran her tongue around her full lips. "Have I been in your dreams, Mister Police Lieutenant?" Osterman rapidly nodded. "Yes." She then began to rub her fully-grown breasts together in front of his eyes. "Have you dreamed of sucking on my big, fat titties?" The Lieutenant just nodded, smiling meekly. She then rubbed her body against his, taking advantage of the flexibility she had developed. "Mmmmm...well, it's just you and me here, Mister Big, Bad Police Lieutenant, and I rrrreeeealllly like having a mouth like yours on my fuckable titties." The man hesitantly chuckled, although it was clear he had instantly invited the suggestion. "I...I thought it was...just about lap- dancing...in here?" Alexis brought her lips very close to Osterman's with a highly seductive expression. "I won't tell if you won't, Mister Police Lieutenant." She then slowly brought her exposed left breast up, enticingly hovering it in front of the man's lips, still grinning seductively. In her office, Olivia Tench also grinned as she watched the security camera feed on one of the monitors in her office. On her computer monitor, she already had the file up on Vincent Osterman, the Executive Officer of Bullchester Police Precinct 19, which covered the sector that Olivia and her girls were working in. So much for your wedding vows, Lieutenant. She mused to herself as he began sucking on the former boy's fleshy mammary. And I know there are others like you who deserve to become my newest bitches. Maybe I'll make this XO their Madame once I'm done breaking her in. As she felt Vincent Osterman's warm mouth dwell on her tits, Alexis reveled in the clear power she was exerting over this man. He had the image of a clean-cut family man. Never one that would be expected to frequent a place like Mistresses. Just the kind of person who would be seen as maintaining loyalty to his wife in the eyes of others. And here he was, sucking on the breast of an exotic dancer. She was already looking forward to impaling herself upon his exposed cock, which was clearly rock-hard as he continued to work on her breast with his mouth. Alexis moaned and panted with the pleasurable feelings running through the she-male's body. As he continued to suck upon her left breast, Alexis ran a hand through his hair. "And I thought you just liked me for the gold skin I had last night. I guess there's other things you like about me too?" "Mmmmph," Vincent nodded as he kept sucking upon the mammary. She managed to pull her breast away from his mouth, and she gazed once again upon him with a coquettish grin. "What else do you like about me, you naughty boy?" She then asked. "Your...your hair's nice..." he managed to stammer out. "...y-your body shape..." Alexis giggled fetchingly with every admission she got out of him. Now, however, she wanted to put his devotion to the ultimate test. "What about my feet, Mister Police Lieutenant?" Alexis chimed. "I loooove it when someone lavishes attention on my feet. You think you're man enough to get on your knees and show my overworked feet some...tender-loving care?" Vincent looked hesitant now. "Well...yeah, y-your feet look nice, but..." "But what?" Alexis's tone now turned cold and accusing. "Are you saying my feet smell bad? Are you suggesting that my feet are ugly?" "No! No!" He raised his hands apologetically. "I'm just...I..." He found it hard to put his reluctance into the safest words. "I told you. It's just you and me here," Alexis rationalized. "No one's watching us." As the security cameras in the room were cleverly hidden from sight, Vincent's naked eyes could not confirm the presence of recording devices, so he felt a little more at ease as he lowered to a knee. Alexis excitedly pulled over a comfy seat, and then pulled off one of her sexy-looking shoes. She pulled off the other one as well as she lifted the first foot up, leveling it with the Lieutenant's mouth. But Vincent chose to give it a massage instead, rubbing it with his hands in a very amateurish fashion. Alexis smirked. "You're not gonna kiss it?" As much as he did not want to admit it, the odor the foot was transmitting was fairly heavy, but he didn't want to anger his favorite dancer again. Bringing the sole of her foot to his lips, he planted a kiss upon it. Upon feeling his lips, Alexis let out an appreciative moan. "Kiss it some more," Alexis cooed. "I wanna feel your mouth suck on each of my toes, too." It's just me and her. Vincent told himself. No one else has to know... Olivia's eyes widened at the sight of Alexis somehow managing to get this BPD XO to lower to his knees before her, and to suck at her toes. She never imagined Alexis had this kind of potential. She was becoming deliciously and advantageously dangerous. And, given her unforeseen ability to influence a man like Vincent Osterman, useful. Olivia then got to work pulling segments of the camera feed for the sake of creating a video file that could capably blackmail the Lieutenant into complete submission. As she worked, she wondered how effective Alexis would be in luring the other police officers of the 19th Precinct into her beguiling little web. And with the police precinct under her thumb, they could lure everyone else...every man, every adolescent boy, awkward or otherwise...into her feminizing clutches. Olivia Tench, Underworld Queenpin. She-male slutmaker. She mused to herself, giggling wickedly, as Alexis switched feet, and had her Police Lieutenant begin worshipping her other smelly foot. I like the sound of that. * * * The first thing that was apparent when the lid of the Dermis Machine at the Butterfly Salon was lifted was that the occupant's lips twitched into a pucker. The naked, hairless, perfume-scented body lightly shook as if it had been through some kind of trauma. When Salon staffer Donna Brent first placed this scheduled subject into the machine, he was what little remained of a man named Arnold Betancourt. Although the beginnings of some hair was evident on the bald spot of his head, the mullet that surrounded it made him look a little like Benjamin Franklin...or at least, a Benjamin Franklin that was in the process of being feminized, anyway. Arnold's benefactor, Iris Cooper, had gotten tired of seeing this domestic servant of hers looking this way. She had to advance his appearance and lapse him into the kind of domestic she-male servant she wanted him to become. When Donna brought the lid down, Arnold looked confused, and a little frightened. He had been quite pathetically complaining about an unfinished vacuuming job that Iris had pulled him away from in her impromptu decision to get him into the Salon's Dermis Machine. It took an irritably-invoked promise from Iris that he would be able to return to the work once his visit to the Salon was done. Donna heard no banging, nor did she hear any other manner of grief from the occupant, as had happened on the very rare occasions when someone was placed inside the Dermis Machine. No cries from within that the occupant clearly wanted out. As the brown-haired staffer...who used to be a young man named Gordon Brent...gazed curiously upon the much more feminine-looking person Arnold had become, moist, shaking hands slowly went up towards her own head. Arnold confirmed that the bald spot was now covered by a thick abundance of silky soft, freshly-grown hair. As per the Dermis programming, the mullet also conformed to the look and the feel of this rejuvenation, which was shoulder-length, and sandy blond in color. Then, she looked at her own hands, seeing and feeling how feminine they had become, and when she placed her hands upon her chest, she confirmed the presence of two soft, round mounds topped with erect nipples. "Come on out of there now, Miss Norris," Donna held out a hand. "We need to clear the machine for the next client." At first, she was confused. Norris? The she-male thought to herself as her puzzled eyes found Donna's. Yes...that's my name...i-isn't it? Maybe? It...sounds familiar...? As Donna guided the Dermis Machine's latest victim back to the dressing room, her steps were slow and shaky. "Why..." The older she-male immediately noticed that her voice was much higher, softer, and delicate as she spoke to the attendant. "...why did you, um, call me 'Norris', dear?" Now Donna looked puzzled. "Well...isn't that your name?" She asked as they approached a dressing stall. "Adele Norris? Miss Adele Norris?" Hearing the full name Arnold Betancourt had been conditioned to accept, during his time within the Dermis Machine, surged all of its mental reprogramming to the fore of the former man's consciousness, effectively destroying any and all traces of the man he was in favor of the older she-male domestic servant she had become. The realization of the truthfulness of Donna's words immediately gave Adelaide the mental jump she needed to settle every word of the subliminal messages into their rightful place, effectively and permanently dissolving every last remnant of the man Adele used to be. "Ohhh yesss. Yes, that's my name, isn't it?" Adele nodded as she spoke, her eyes still looking a little vacant as she stepped into the stall, where a fresh new maid uniform awaited her on a wire hanger. "Th-thank you, dear." Smiling and nodding, Donna closed the door behind the she-male, and waited. As she lingered, a presence behind her rubbed a hand up along his arm, startling her. When Donna turned to face this woman, she looked into a familiar...and alluringly Asian...pair of eyes. Suki stepped up very close to Donna, the fingers of her right hand slowly caressing Donna's cheek as she smiled at her. "Is that the one Iris brought in?" Donna nodded, smiling affectionately to her. "Yes." Suki nodded as she stepped behind Donna and wrapped her arms around the former boy, speaking gently into her ear. "What are you doing after your shift?" The Salon attendant curiously blinked. "Uhh...nothing important, why?" Suki's fingers teased at Donna's hair. "Because I want to play with your hair." The fingertips then slowly came down to rub gently against Donna's cheeks. "And your face." "What...y-you mean like...makeup?" the attendant openly guessed. "And...styling?" "Mmmm-hmmmm," Suki purred. "No machines. I want to do it the old- fashioned way." "What...kind of look are you gonna...?" A finger pressed against Donna's lips, stopping her from finishing her sentence. "That is for me to know, and for you to find out." Suki then began to step away, smiling seductively as she kept her eyes on Donna. "See you later, sweetie." Left in her state of perpetual curiosity, Donna began to wonder what kind of a makeover she was in for when the door to the dressing stall opened up, allowing the attendant to look upon Adele Norris in her traditional black and white maid uniform. Adele looked pleadingly to Donna. "Can I please go back and finish my vacuuming job now?" * * * Two envelopes loaded with money sat idle on Olivia Tench's office desk in the Manager's Room of Mistresses. It was payday for her two newest sluts, and while Alexis was on the fast track to becoming a most lethal asset, the radically shapely woman knew that the former Tobias Betancourt still needed work, even with Jake Simonson on staff. Olivia was deep in thought when the inevitable knocking on her door intervened. "Come in, ladies." Coco's predictably unsure expression was the first face Olivia saw when they stepped into the office. Alexis, who had her typically oversexed grin on her face, suggestively and impishly rubbed against Coco from behind as she entered. Olivia picked up the larger of the two money envelopes once the two radically feminized she-males stood in front of her desk. She then tossed it to Alexis, who easily caught it. "Excellent work on Vince Osterman," Olivia complimented as Alexis went wide-eyed, her fingers sifting through the neatly-stacked pile of dead presidents in awe. "You think he will return for another visit?" A malevolent grin was on Alexis's face as Coco sifted through her smaller stack of money. "Oh yeah...and he'll be bringing a few of his precinct friends, too." Olivia nodded, wearing a devious smile of her own. "Yes...and I looked up the file on Stuart Olivetti, the Ops Lieutenant he mentioned." Her eyes then went to Coco. "That's where you come in, slut." Coco looked up to Olivia, puzzled. "Me?" "Mmm-hmm," Olivia leaned forward. "I want you to work on Stuart. Alexis was lucky to earn the eye of Vince Osterman. He's the Executive Officer of the local police precinct, you see, and Stuart is his Operations Lieutenant." "But..." Coco looked nervous now. "...y-you haven't had problems with the local police, have you?" "The 19th Precinct's Integrity Control Officer is what you might call a backstabber," Olivia explained. "He's also a blackmailer. Have either of you ever heard of a police officer from New York named Frank Serpico?" Alexis nodded. "Yeah, I saw the movie. He was that Brooklyn cop from the 70s who ratted out bad cops." "Well, Spence Drucker started out that way," Olivia explained. "Only he wasn't quite as pure as officer Serpico. He'd go after everyone he could...even civilian employees...to get ahead in the Bullchester PD. He'd always find some mild infraction and use it as a means to get them in trouble. Off-duty cops going to a strip club? Spence would report them. Civilian aides talking back to him? He'd report them. Cops abusing their overtime? He'd report it. He'd also suck up to the Bullchester Police Commissioner, who's due to retire soon. That asshole practically hopscotched his way through the ranks to Lieutenant purely on the strength of his ability to threaten co-workers into submission." "Shit," Alexis mused. "He sounds like a real snitch-and-a-half." "What does all this have to do with us?" Coco asked. "When we opened up, and Spence found out about us, he called me personally, and threatened to shut us down," Olivia replied. "Said he didn't care about any 'Sisterhood'. Told me he'd make it his life's work to make ours a living hell...unless we helped him set up a retirement party for the Commissioner. Said he had collected enough dirt on the Commish to put him behind bars, and he even promised us police immunity so long as we...cooperated." Alexis wrapped her arms around Coco from behind as she listened. "Which is why Madame Olivia secretly invited the Precinct's XO to come down and see what kind of goooood girls we all are here," She purred into Coco's ear. "Alexis practically has Lt. Osterman in her lap by now," Olivia continued. "We've already got enough on-video evidence to endanger his marriage. Ol' Lexi even managed to convince Vinny to bring his buddy...Stuart Olivetti...with him on his next visit. I already have plans for them both, but it would be a lot easier for me to implement if we managed to get Stu." "So, you...yyyyou want me to seduce a-a Police Lieutenant?" Coco looked nervous now. "But...won't that make this Drucker guy suspicious?" "We're off Drucker's radar for the moment," Olivia answered. "which obviously gives us the advantage. I imagine we won't be hearing from him until around the time the Commish retires. He called me once last week to invite me to a sermon at St. Justine's, since he obviously gets a kick out of fooling everyone into believing he's literally a Saint, but...I naturally declined. Besides...if he knew about what's been going on behind the scenes at St. Justine's as of late, he'd stay the fuck away from there." Coco frowned in her curiosity. "What's been going on behind the scenes at St. Justine's?" Olivia smirked. "None of your fucking business. Just stick to subjugating Stu Olivetti, and you'll earn just as much extra money as a bonus compared to what I've given you today, and you only have that because you helped me to convince Jake to start working here. Otherwise, you'd be struggling to get by on the pittance you've been earning as of late." "You really need to work on your self-esteem, Coco," Alexis openly admitted to her childhood friend. "If they see that you're nervous and fidgety all the time, you're not gonna earn as much." "But I...I'm trying. I really am," Coco countered. "It's easier when I'm with you. Couldn't we both work on..." "NO," Olivia firmly interjected. "I didn't hire Lexi to be your goddamn babysitter, Coco...and while I enjoyed doing the 'golden girl' thing with you two, it was to see if you could work well together. I have no doubts about Alexis being able to handle herself, but you? You definitely need work, sissy girl, and I want you to start by seducing Lt. Olivetti when Vinny brings him in." "Would it help if I told you that he's a fairly well-built chocolate bar?" Alexis alluringly cooed. "I know you like those. In fact, I dare you to get his clothes off, and fuck him silly when you have your first lapdance with him. He may not be as bulky as Jake, but I know you're always hungry for brownies, aren't you?" Sure enough, the suggestions Alexis was laying down made Coco a bit more eager to meet this Lieutenant. She was already wondering what he'd look like on their first meeting. Coco couldn't resist the urge to bite her lower lip in anticipation. Olivia insidiously smiled wide upon seeing Coco's reaction. "I thought you might agree." Coco felt a hand grope at her groin as Alexis confirmed that what little remained of the former Tobias Betancourt's male organ was now very erect. "Oh, she agrees, all right," Alexis slyly noted, flashing her Cheshire Cat grin. Olivia rose from her seat and stepped around her desk to approach Coco as Alexis continued to pleasure her she-male friend with a single hand. "You really have no clue as to the kind of power you can have over a man when you look the way you do now, do you?" The radically shapely Madame stepped up very close to Coco, looking down at her. "Don't you remember the first day you saw me on that bus? You wanted me. You couldn't take your eyes off of me. You could do the same thing with Lt. Olivetti now that you're one of us." "I...mmmh..." The brisk rubbing Alexis was continuing to inflict upon her groin was already causing a stir of excitement within Coco. Her eyes narrowed a bit. "...I-I can...I can try...b-but..." Olivia raised an eyebrow. "But?" "...It would...hhhhelp..." Coco began to writhe a bit where she stood. Alexis was clearly edging her. "...if...if I had big...errh...bigger tits and...and..." The business's shapely manager slowly stepped behind Coco as she moaned from her best friend's edging. She then brought her lips very close to Coco's ear. "Ass?" Olivia then inflicted a hard, stinging slap to one of Coco's buttcheeks with an open hand, causing the former young man to gasp in her wide-eyed surprise. Olivia kept her eyes on Coco's. "Are you suggesting that I pay for such a thing, you dirty whore?" *SMACK!* Coco whimpered over the strike to her exposed buttcheek as Alexis continued to mercilessly edge her. She had bent to one knee as she continued rubbing at Coco's small, but erect member. "Do you think you have enough money to pay for that kind of augment work, bitch?" Olivia then calmly asked. *SMACK!* "Owww...!" Coco winced as she began to pant from the edging. "I...I d- don't...know, Madammmmme...Madame Oliviaaaaaaahh!!" "Isn't there someone you know who can loan you the money, slut?" Olivia cooed into Coco's ear. *SMACK!* "Aaah...!" Coco had to lean forward, placing her head against Olivia as she continued to pant heavily. "A-Alexissss...?" Her best friend had to giggle as she slowly rose up from the floor, feeling up Coco's hairless body as she got back to her feet. "Yeeeeesss?" Olivia turned Coco around so they could look into each other's eyes. She gave Coco another hard slap at an exposed cheek as she spoke. "Mmm-mmay I...may I...OWWW...c-could you help me...get b-bigger tits and ass?" *SMACK!* "ERRRH! P-pleeeease??" Alexis grinned wide as she brought her face very close to Coco's. "Are you going to pay me back if I do?" She gently cooed. "Y-yess..." *SMACK!* "...YES! Errrh! Yes, I..." *SMACK!* "...ohhh, yes, yes!" *SMACK!* "Aaagh! Yesyesyes! I...anything..." *SMACK!* "Mmmmnngh! ANYTHING!" Alexis brought her lips close to Coco's ear. "I'll hold you to that, my little pet." Olivia intoned into Coco's other ear. "There. Now was that so...hard?" *SMACK!* Coco's hair now looked a bit disheveled as she moaned and panted from the constant, and oddly stimulating, impacts at her now reddened posterior. Oh, Goddess... Coco thought to herself. ...why did that...why did that excite me so much? I should be bad more often...yes...I'm so bad... "You have some time before the mall closes," Olivia reminded as she gently pushed Coco away from her. "Why don't you go there with Alexis and set up an appointment with Dr. Parker Drake?" Coco frowned in confusion as she began to recover. "But...th-the Lieutenant...?" Olivia smirked. "I never said he'd be here tonight, you silly bimbo," *SMACK!* "You're being told in advance because I want you to be ready to seduce him. Now are you going to make that appointment..." Her tone now became a more alluring one. "...or would you rather I tie you up and pull out a big, hard, studded paddle?" Coco blinked, her eyes wide with what was unmistakably an interest. "U- uummmm...I..." Alexis, however, pulled her best friend towards the office exit. "Come on, behemonger babe. I need to find out how much your work is gonna set me back." "But I...I..." Coco began to mutter as she was pulled out of the office, alternating her gaze between Alexis and Olivia, who had already turned around to get back behind her desk. "...sso bad, I..." * * * The freckled face of Lieutenant Spencer Drucker remained stone-faced as he stared, humorlessly, down at Police Administrative Aide Peter Sandberg, who looked white as a sheet as he struggled to respond to the red-headed Integrity Control Officer's serious accusation. The 124 room of the 19th Precinct was quiet as Spence awaited a response. After he had tortured the young and innocent clerical worker enough with the uneasy silence, Spence's face finally relaxed to a smile, defusing the situation with, "I'm just kidding." Sandberg, however, wasn't laughing. This wasn't the first time the higher-ranked Drucker had tortured Peter with a suspect accusation, and in a manner that didn't sound like it was just a joke. The worst part was that Peter couldn't attempt any kind of a reprisal, much as he had wanted to after all of the other bullying Drucker had attempted with him. The PAA tried not to let it affect him too radically. After all, he wasn't the only one who Drucker had messed with. Other officers and civilians were made to feel just how much of a complete asshole the ICO truly was. It was this reputation that had earned the Marine-haired redhead a well- deserved sobriquet whenever the extremist boss was out of earshot: Lieutenant Fucker. Fortunately, Drucker had stepped away to the XO's office, leaving Sandberg to fume over his being suckered. Again. You're lucky I'm not telling your CO about your after-work visits to the strip club, kid. Drucker mused to himself as he stepped into the office, grabbing a freshly-poured cup of coffee that was being prepared by Anita, a Hispanic Staff Analyst. "Hey!" The heavy-set civilian protested. "Is mine!" Drucker frowned as he turned his head towards her. "Pour another one!" Turning away from her, he sipped from the steaming cup as he approached Vincent Osterman's desk. Once again, the gentlemanly XO was chatting with Stu Olivetti. Having already bullied an easy target in Sandberg, he felt inspired to try the same thing with Stu. "So what's this I hear about you getting a lapdance at that Mistresses place?" He asked, assuming a stony expression. But Vince and Stu wouldn't be fooled as easily as the former sighed irritably, and the latter rolled his eyes. "Yeah, and I banged her booty real good, Spence," Stu sarcastically countered. "You should have been there." "And you owe Anita a cup of coffee," Vince soberly added. "Oh, do I?" The ICO smirked. "Don't they have a coffee machine in the 124 room?" "It's broken, Spence," The XO reminded. "Still hasn't been fixed. I told them they could use ours until they send someone to replace it." "Or they could buy a temp coffee maker," Spence countered. He then grabbed the nearby newspaper and went through it to find a page, which he presented to Vincent. "By the way...did you see this?" Vince peered at the article Spence indicated. It was a small blurb about top overtime earners within the Bullchester PD. At the top was a well- liked 19th Precinct Patrolman named Edgar Sutcliffe. The XO's uninterested eyes went from the article to the ICO. "So? Ed's on his beat longer than most." "I wonder what Captain Cicero is gonna say when I show him this," Spence challenged. "Drucker, overtime is overtime, okay? Every slip he submitted was signed and approved," Stu explained. "By someone other than me, obviously," Spence shot back. "Has he been making any actual arrests?" "I would think he's preventing trouble by being out in his zone longer than usual, Spence," the fashionably-dreadlocked Stu calmly noted. "Still, starting next week, I wanna initial off on all overtime slips submitted," The ICO ordered. He looked to Stu. "Can you bring them to me when they're all in?" Stu gave the ICO a sarcastic salute, hoping this would get him to leave. "Yes, sir. Every one." "Spence..." Vincent leaned forward as he spoke. "...why do you feel you always need to be such a hard-ass with everyone?" "Because I don't come here to make friends," Spence quickly replied. "I come here to do my job. If I wanted to make friends, I'd go to church, which is where you should both be going every Sunday." "Naah," Stu countered. "I'd rather be a sinner." "Yeah, we're actually thinking of hitting up Mistresses after work on Tuesday of next week," Vincent ribbed. "You should go in with us. It's Baptism Week." Both Vince and Stu started laughing, knowing that Tuesday was Wet T- Shirt night. Spence smiled back in his mild mirth, and then left the office, thinking of who he could bully next. Stu rubbed at his eyes as they recovered from the mirth. "Lieutenant Fucker strikes again." "How much you wanna bet he's gonna try and weasel his way into a promotion when the Commish retires?" Vincent wondered aloud. "I don't wanna think about it," The brown-skinned Police Lieutenant rose to his feet. "I'll see ya later, Lieu." "Where you off to?" Vince curiously asked. "124 Room," Stu replied. "Figured I'd talk comics with Sandberg for a bit." The XO ventured a thought. "He oughta come with us next week. What do you think?" Stu shrugged. "I'll ask, but...from what I know of him, he'd probably be all nervous about going to a place like that with a pair of Police Lieutenants. He'd think we'd betray him to Spence." Vince shrugged. "See what he says anyway. Let him know he's got nothing to worry about." "Will do, Lieu," After a more casual, but more meaningful salute, Stu stepped away. Through the glass windows of his office, Vincent saw Spence scolding Anita...possibly over some mild infraction...and he shook his head in irritation as he rubbed his own eyes. That guy is in more dire need of a blow job than any bad Lieutenant that I've ever met in my lifetime. The XO mused to himself.