The author retains all rights to this original work of fiction.

Last Updated: 2/13/2024 to smooth out portions of the story.
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March 10th, 12:06 AM
Try as I might, I just couldn't wash away this day in what turned out to be a very long, hot shower. Nearly twenty-five minutes of pure warmth was delivered by a showerhead with some real water pressure behind it, unlike the crappy shower in my apartment back home. Too many emotions were bombarding me now that I had time alone to think, and I felt very awake, though I knew my body was spent and running on fumes. I'm pretty sure the little I had to drink with Paul wasn't helping my brain, attitude, or will to be more focused on categorizing the crap Amber had gotten into.

Running wild through my head were the consequences of Amber's destructive path, and my working relationship with Paul and wanting more of that connected feeling with another human I’d had with him in the bar. That I’d lied to Janet about our progress before getting into the shower was also weighing on me. I shifted in front of the stream and loved the way the water flowed over my chest.

I sighed, feeling that pang of dysphoria kicking in as I noticed that last dangling appendage between my legs. That one little thing kept me anchored in a past life I wanted gone, to forget ever existed. I was sure some of this negativity came on because I saw so much of my screwed up past in Amber's foray into posting shit. It made my heart seriously ache for her, for the consequences still to come.

When I started HRT it had been done to escape and break that cycle of destructive behavior I’d been consumed by and addicted too. That scab was still pronounced on my psyche, and seeing all Amber had done so far tugged mercilessly at the corners of it. All too often my mind didn’t know when to stop picking at some fault I couldn't compartmentalize or come to terms with.

Granted, she was only just getting started with her collection of solo pictures, her webcasting, and the couple videos she was wringing into quite the profit so far. God knows there was certainly no shortage of fetish seekers willing to throw money at an underage Trans kid putting herself out there to be ogled over. I wish she knew what she was giving up wasn’t worth the quick hit the money in those cash accounts contained.

Her need for attention, confirmation, and validation of who she was becoming blinded her as it had blinded me. Logic was thrown out the window and the ramifications were not fully understood by a seventeen-year-old kid. All told, what she was doing really spelled disaster and would only get worse if she kept at it. The Tumblr animated graphic of her proved that. There was a video of that act and it would be used to exploit her, make life uglier for her.

I was older than Amber when I got involved with that shit myself and I should have known better, but fell for the trap. The gratification I got was like a drug and I had to have it once I began. I was addicted to the rush and I kept raising the stakes of what I would give up of myself to get the attention I was lacking in my life. Somewhere on the net was shit I hoped no one would ever see.

Long gone were my connections to that sewer of being used, being someone's fetish, or their kink play thing. Why hadn't I been smart enough to at least get paid for all I’d given up? Would that have made it any better? Doubtful. I got nothing but mental abuse from trolling those same sewers Amber was now beginning to play in. I shook my head. I could never go back to that way of existence, even if I were paid more!

I turned the shower off, pumped some lotion into my hands, and began to apply it to my freshly shaved legs. When done, I dried off with a stiff but large bath towel, and then pull on a pair of unattractive boyshort panties. I took a moment to admire my long legs and those mounds on my chest; I was pale from lack of sun and wondered if this body was good enough for...

The tiny lump in the panties caught my attention, and everything positive became less impressive in the blink of an eye. Grrrr!

No one will want me like this, and I wasn't even sure anyone would want me if I were whole, complete.

HRT had been a godsend, and taking my transitioning seriously had gotten me off a destructive path. Did I have a leg to stand on while arguing the results before me? The fat redistribution alone had done amazing things for my mental well-being. My ass was round and bubbly, with the right amount of soft jiggle that made me feel attractive at time. I turned to inspect my greatest asset and smiled. Yup, that is a nice-looking ass, that’s for sure.

I had gone from being 159 pounds pre-transition twenty months ago to hovering in the low 120’s the last time I weighed myself. I now had what I could describe as the classic runner's body because instead of letting my body and mind get abused by idiots, I was putting in at least 25 miles a week running and trying to make healthy choices for myself. I wasn't a poser by any stretch, but running was a release in so many ways and an escape I craved on days I was at my lowest.

My facial features had softened because of HRT, and I had resigned myself to not needing serious FFS any time soon. That was a good thing, since I didn't have the money for that anyway. I had begged my mom for money for college and ended up using twenty-three hundred dollars of that for a tracheal shave procedure last year. I justified it by thinking it made it easier to pass.

Good grief! Passing, what a shit show that could be and a source of dysphoria that loved to slap me around. If I could fix my voice, which annoyed me most of the time even though I was working on that diligently, I could absolutely pass. Voice training was monotonous and boring, but I did that crap religiously keep the passing God’s smiling down at me.

I did have to make up the money I should have used from my mom to pay for school. That I took working two jobs with no days off for over a year! Yeah, did it, I sacrificed and I’d probably do it over the same way. I still had credit card debt that would be tough to squash any time soon, but that money from my mom did help me so much getting over a dysphoria hurdle. And I got my schooling paid for, which lead to my current job, so win-win. Once I paid mom back and I could focus on using my income on me!

I just wish I could be happy with what I saw right in front of me—right this minute every time I looked at myself. I pulled on a loose, stretched-out pair of Lycra runners' shorts and then a spaghetti-strap blue tank top. I took off the towel my hair was wrapped in and let the nearly shoulder-length locks dangle, shaking my head a few times to loosen up the tangles I could see and running my fingers through it to finish shaking them out.

I grabbed my brush and did a quick couple combs through motions. I should change the color; maybe go more blonde, like a dirty blonde. It could be subtle and a good change for springtime. I remembered the grand advance Janet had mentioned for taking on this project of finding Amber and smirked at myself in the mirror. It was decided, I was going to get my hair colored and cut when I got home!

I finished the rest of my nightly routines, flipped the nightstand light off after climbing in bed, and enjoyed the coolness of the bed sheets on my skin. I rolled over and grabbed a pillow to put between my knees; it would have to do in the absence of my body pillow at home. I looked at the clock illuminating half the room, 12:24 AM, and I thought about the two alarms I had set on my phone for 5:30 AM... Augh...

March 10th, 1:41 AM
"I’d like my hand back!" I shouted.

Paul let it go, and I walked to the bar alone which was by the pool now. Kids were playing and splashing, music was filling in the voids when they weren't yelling and screaming, the sun was very bright, and I felt warmth all over. Why didn't I have my sunglasses on?

"Can I help you?" the bartender asked.

I looked at the menu board behind him; there weren't any salads listed.

"Excuse me, Miss..." I turned to see a teenage boy standing next to me. "Where did you get your bathing suit?"

I tried not to look flustered by his question, fearful of the reason he was asking.

"I got it at Target," I replied.

It was a classic one-piece with a courtesy skirt. Not my first choice, but for now, it would have to do for obvious reasons. It fit well, and I looked down to see if something was amiss. Nope, I had tanned legs and really loved my painted toenails and the shimmering beads on the flip-flops I was wearing.

"My dad really likes it. Can I take your picture?" the teen asked.

What?

"I don't understand..."

"Paul said you were cool with it. Over here," he was gesturing to a seat by the bar where a webcam was set up next to a computer.

What did Paul have to do with this kid's dad? Confused, I still followed him to sit where he'd patted his hand on a towel-covered beach recliner.

"Sit here..."

I did as requested, noticing there was a crowd of men watching. What was this?

"So, if you could just slide the straps off, show us your tits," he said, smiling a toothy grin.

A loud thumping noise shook me awake, startlingly so. There were two more in succession, a pause, and three quieter ones that followed. I was sitting up on a bed, in a room that was pitch black, and I panicked—where am I?

I stood quickly, wondering what the fuck was that noise was!? My heart was beating fast and I looked at the clock - 1:41 AM, shit! I opened the door to the living room area of the suite, it was dark; there was no movement. The AC was humming quietly; had it made that noise or something? Wait, was someone at the door?

I flipped a light on, squinting while walking to the door on guard against someone who might jump out at me from behind the couch or from the kitchen area. As I got to the door, there were two light taps. I looked through the peephole, it was Paul.

"What Paul?" I was hoarse and sounded tired and annoyed, and I leaned my head against the door, exhaling slowly, trying to calm my racing heart.

"I found her, Elizabeth; I know where she is."

I had no idea what I looked like, and there was no way I would, on purpose, let anyone see me like this, which I was sure was pathetic - but if what he’d just said to me through the door was true, this was huge! Had he really found Amber!? I opened the door, standing behind it until he made his way in.

Paul barely gave me a look, which was good but I felt an odd twinge of sadness as well. He was obviously excited and had the TV turned on and his laptop connected by the time I had shut the door and made my way to the living room area.

"She's in Santa Fe, New Mexico. She got there Friday, that’s my best guess," he said, still not looking at me.

I could see an email on the TV screen, courtesy of Paul forgetting to take his Chromecast dongle with him when he was here earlier. The email contained instructions from someone who signed the email as 'Daddy'. What I was reading was kind of sickening. 'Daddy wants you here now...' and 'Daddy will get you what you want...' That was followed by 'You want to please your Daddy...' and 'Daddy will pick you up today...' It went on like that, ad nauseam.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I whispered.

Paul's eyes didn't stray from the laptop screen.

"Yeah, it was hell reading this crap, but I've tracked their correspondence back over three months. He's been grooming her, which led to him picking her up from school last Friday. I got that in an email somewhere. I don't know where in Santa Fe she is, but I do have a phone number for 'Daddy'. I've alerted Jacob and the Carson’s, who are working with the police and maybe even the FBI right now."

"How did you get into this email account?"

We had access to two of Amber's other email accounts, but they weren't used much. The email account Paul had on the screen was the one we didn't have a password for, so this was a huge breakthrough.

Paul looked up from his laptop and was looking at me.

"Luck. I went through the 'Forgot Password' process on this account, and she had used one of the others we had access to as a recovery email address. Went through the recovery process, changed the password, and logged in."

I was impressed.

"Wow, that's awesome."

I felt self-conscious, as it seemed he was measuring me with his gaze still. My tight-fitting tank top was hiked up slightly, showing my midriff, and it only accentuated the two tiny nubs poking at the tightly woven cotton fabric at my chest on top of two small breast mounds. I pulled the shirt down, but it didn't help—except to make the view of my tits more pronounced. I crossed my arms and gave him a look that said, 'Enough gawking'.

"I talked to Jacob; we've locked her out of her accounts for Paypal and Patreon; I changed her passwords. The money is still there; actually, she must have picked up a few more subscribers, as there are now just over twenty thousand in the combined accounts. The new password for her accounts is PEaz4HiRe3988." Paul enunciated the particulars of the password as he read it from his screen.

OK, thanks for that, but I had no idea why... Wait, 3988 those were the last four digits of my Social Security number!

"Hey, what the hell?"

"It's 'P' for Paul, 'E' for Elizabeth; we're in 'AZ' and 'hired' to find Amber, and I tossed your last four SSNs in there for good measure. Feel free to access any of her…"

"No, that's not good measure!” I interrupted him. Did he think this would be okay with me? “That's fucked up; that's what that is." I was burning a hole through him with my stare.

I could feel my chest tightening, breaths were coming in shallow huffs, adrenaline was flowing madly due to him possibly finding Amber, and because I was really pissed at him! I walked to my room, slamming the door behind me. Who the fuck did this guy think he was?!
I found my purse and opened the bottle of Xanax, went to the bathroom, filled a glass of water, and downed it quickly. The water tasted funny, which explained why they gave away complimentary water, but that was in the refrigerator, and I was pissed and not going to give him the satisfaction of riling me anymore. Was he poking at me on purpose? Was there content from when I was posting in queue on his laptop he wanted to show me to rub my nose in it? Had he shared that shit with Jacob?

FUCK! FUCK YOU!

I looked in the mirror and cringed. I looked like death. Pale, pasty skin and hair that was a complete disaster, and I realized I needed to pee, which is about the only time that goddamn worthless appendage between my legs ever changed these days! FUCK!

March 10th, 2:03 AM
I had been sitting on my bed, contemplating my next move. I wanted to just collapse on the bed, melt into the covers, and not move or speak to anyone for twenty-four hours straight. I knew that wasn't going to happen, so I decided to try to make myself more presentable.

I did a light version of my usual makeup application, got my hair semi under control with a little water and too much hairspray, and changed my clothes. I was basically working up the courage to confront Paul, when I heard him speaking from the living room...

"Hey Jacob, no, we're up. Looking into any other leads we can find..." There was a very long pause, maybe a minute or more.

"Yes, I sent the passwords to Detective Hanes. I also suspended her Patreon account after we talked. A shorter pause: "The full video is there still, but no one will have access to it." A quick pause: "That's right. We don't want to tamper with any digital evidence; we totally understand. Their system will show the password change locking her out and the time of account suspension for viewing by those who have subscribed to her content."

I hadn't heard a phone ringing, so I wondered if Paul had called Jacob. I couldn't take not seeing and being a part of the conversation, so I opened the door to the living room. Paul looked up at me and mouthed 'Jacob'. I nodded back. He put the phone on speaker.

"Hey Jacob, you're on speaker phone; Elizabeth is back."

"Hello Elizabeth, nice job with the breakthrough."

I looked at Paul, confused.

"Ah, thank you, Mr. Wentz, but Paul is really the brains behind this operation." I shrugged at him. He just stared blankly at me, nodding slightly in acknowledgement.

"Jacob, that is correct; the account is unchanged, as are her other accounts, except for the password changes I made to keep her out. Oh, and I'm certain the full video was done after Friday; you can clearly see the new tattoo in some of it. I have no idea how many views there are, though; the people at Patreon will know that. It's likely been grabbed and reposted on other sites; that's typical."

"OK... The Santa Fe Police are putting together a list of places where she might have gotten the implants done. They won't be able to make contact with anyone until the doctors' offices open." Jacob said.

I looked at Paul with a concerned look and mouthed 'implants'... He nodded a ‘Yes’. I shook my head.

"Are you two coming over now?"

"Yes, be there within the hour, Jacob." Paul looked at me, and it was my turn to nod 'Yes'.

"OK, good. Things are about to begin moving quickly. I called Landon, and he's informed the Santa Fe office. Gary and Stephanie are getting a flight worked out right now. That's at least an eight-hour drive, or a little over an hour and a half if they can fly. As you can imagine, at this time of night, not many choices are available. We can talk more when you get here."

I blurted out, "Mr. Wentz, you could have them look into a medical flight. Those operate 24/7; they could say they are bringing Amber home after the surgery." I didn't sound confident about having knowledge about anything Paul had talked to him about, but I felt the need to contribute. Saying in closing, "I saw a report on this kind of service on the news."

"I'll pass that on to Elizabeth, Thank you for that. What a good idea; no one had thought of that. See you both shortly."

"OK, Jacob, we'll be there."

Paul hung up the phone and began clicking keys on his laptop.

I didn't want to revisit our exchange from earlier, so I just went with confirming what I thought I knew.

"You found out she was meeting some guy in Santa Fe for implants?"

He didn't look up.

"Yeah, their relationship was a mixed bag of this guy being kink-obsessed and her going along with all the honey he poured in her ears. She sent him a lot of content that we haven't seen posted anywhere. He likely requested that she not share it. Sick bastard. I don't recommend viewing what she has in her 'Sent' folder.

“He got her hooked on the idea of implants and paying for them. I hope the procedure hasn't already been performed," he said.

I may not know the man, her 'Daddy', but I had a pretty good idea of how fucked up he was. The other thing I knew about him was that he wasn’t stupid, but not smart enough to not get caught. While Amber was now of legal age, I was fairly certain a case could be brought against him for his inappropriate contact with her prior to her turning eighteen. It didn't take a lawyer to know that.

"So all the police agencies and the FBI are up to speed?"

He stopped to look at me and said, "Yes."

It was obvious we weren't going to get along without coming clean, so I decided I’d start the conversation.

"Look, I don't know what you think you know about me, I mean, you know, like some shit… Stuff I wouldn't want exposed, but you... You need to stay in your lane," I stated as calmly as I could.

"My lane?" he asked, confused.

"Whatever... If you want to know who I am, then ask, try getting to know me. I would kill for friends I could hang with, laugh with, and go and do...,"I paused, feeling a lump lodge in my throat. "I'm not that person from two years..."

I turned to the kitchen, wiping the tear that rolled down my face, and went to the refrigerator for a bottle of water.

"I think you're a very nice woman, Elizabeth. I did not pry for anything but to know you better. I'm kind of a geek; meeting women has never been easy for me. You intrigued me; I dug. I apologize again if I was insensitive. My intentions were to never make you feel uncomfortable."

Paul was still sitting on the couch when I turned back toward him. He looked like this conversation was as painful for him as it was for me. Welcome to one billionth of my world, buddy. I was impressed he identified me as being a woman, which is a landmine of crazy for some out there when the incorrect pronoun, gender, or identity is used in their presence. I was thankful he was sticking with that. It was a little win.

"I have a lot to protect myself from, Paul. Every day, in nearly every situation, someone or some establishment is trying to knock me out of the game. I've worked very hard to get to where I am today. I've beaten some crazy shit back in my head. I've tried to commit suicide, which you know is not so good for those left behind. I'm just trying to be a good person, the best I can…"

The lump caught abruptly in my throat, and the tears flowed now freely as my chest heaved shallowly.

I had closed my eyes and sensed movement. Paul had gotten up and was standing in front of me when I opened my eyes. I let my face get buried in his chest without thinking that out. He held me steady as my sobs were heaving now, short body shakes, followed by nearly silent crying.

"You're OK," he cooed while holding me gently.

I wanted to melt away in his arms and disappear from this Amber crisis. I needed to be stronger than this! I resolved to knock this shit off and after a few moments had calmed down enough. I felt him guide me back slightly and I could only stare at the wet spots on his shirt I had created – not into his eyes. I felt embarrassed for being so emotional about everything.

"You're perfect just the way you are," he said softly.

That was followed by a kiss on my forehead and another embrace. That brought on a bit more sobbing and when I had finally steeled myself to calm down a minute or so later and with my face pressed to his chest again, I managed to say, "Thank you, Paul. I’m sorry."

He released his hugging of me slowly, looking into my now surly puffy eyes and shooting makeup.

"Not even a problem. Look, I can go over to the Carson’s' without you; give you a chance to rest up a little."

And as quickly as there was a glimpse of heart, a possible connection, we were back to the business at hand—back to something more important. I was sad that that fleeting moment between us was gone, but I felt lucky to have gotten it. I reached up to clear my eyes, twice wiping my left eye while he held my hips. I looked into his eyes and wondered if I could kiss him.

He cocked his head as if wondering what I was thinking, and I felt his hands leaving my hips. It was probably a pipe dream anyway—the idea that he wouldn’t be repulsed by kissing me. I tried to smile a little bit and stood a little straighter.

"I'm good. How about we meet in the lobby in twenty minutes?"

It would be a miracle if I could make myself presentable in that amount of time, but I had to move on and get back in the game. He was obviously focused on something more important, I should be too.

He agreed, and within a couple minutes, I was alone. I needed to push through this, not over thinking any of it. Paul was just a nice guy, a curious guy, and I was something to be figured out; he’d done that, and that was the end of it. He probably didn’t mean me any harm, but I felt like I had to be on guard now a little more, to protect my heart.

I would try to be more understanding and not jump to the worst case when he shared a discovery of something from my past. I had a feeling we would be discussing this shit again at some point. I needed to get ready to go; time was wasting away, and we needed to get to Amber before something really bad happened to her.

March 10th, 4:39 AM
Jacob had answered the door at the Carson’s while talking on the phone. He held up his finger for us to hold tight.

"Yes, we can be there within the hour," he paused to listen to whoever was on the line. "OK, thanks, buddy," another pause, "Yeah, understood...” He ended the call and checked something on his phone before slipping it into a pocket. "That was Landon; he's the field director for the FBI field office here in Phoenix," he said looking at me.

I knew that already, but I nodded politely.

"We're meeting with him in an hour at the Scottsdale police substation. The FBI pinged our suspect's phone, and they are going to do some interagency work to assist the police in Santa Fe. Landon says they'll be able to pinpoint the exact location by the time we get there, and an extraction team is being mobilized as we speak. This could go off about the time Stephanie hits the ground there. The medical flight stuff ended up being the ticket. Good job on that, Elizabeth."

I tried to smile as best I could. I hadn't done anything meaningful, I thought; I just wanted everything to turn out well in the end. This really was like something you'd see in an action movie, except it was real, and people's lives really depended on how this played out. I looked at Paul, but he just nodded at Jacob.

"Paul, can you drive us?"

"Sure, whenever you're ready."

"Let's go."

::: --- :::

I would like to acknowledge the assistance of Bronwen Welsh in proofreading and giving me insightful advice. She is an accomplished author in her own right and I appreciate her time more than I can say...

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