Visa

Finley was an old man, just turned seventy, but he was active and he worked harder than many an idle out of work twenty year old who had no intention of doing anything other than taking Social Security payments and thieving for a living. Finley was a man who was happy to live and let live, that was till he was subject to thievery. He’d happily paid ten thousand pounds [$15000] at the end of the year for his new four wheel drive ride on lawn mower with tractor wheels, for he had six acres of grass to keep under control. On the day in early spring when he discovered his brand new unused mower, along with various other pieces of equipment too, had been stolen from his locked outbuilding he was to say the least irritated. The mower had been inside a locked and windowless outbuilding on his twelve acre smallholding, and it was gone. He taken delivery of it at the back end of autumn [fall] and had been looking forward to bringing some of his wilder acreage under control with it in the spring, for it was a machine that was capable of taking any kind of growth less than an inch and a half [38mm] in diameter down to a couple of inches [50mm] high. However it was gone. He’d not been able to acquire insurance at any kind of a reasonable price on his property and to his serious regret had not considered having a tracker placed on the machine.

The police had told him there was little they could do since he was not sure when the machine had been stolen other than within an eight week window. Finley was not prepared to accept that all was lost, and before his retirement he’d been an operator for a government agency, so he contacted an ex colleague still in the business who he’d always kept in touch with. They both knew the authorities, and in particular their employers, had always considered they and their peers to be expendable and the police clearly regarded his recent loss as not worth investigating. They’d always been aware of the dangers of being ‘sacrificed for the greater good’, and as a result had never had any trust nor faith in any branch of government, especially their employer. His friend had said on receiving his call and hearing his tale at their subsequent meeting, “You know how it goes, Finley. In God we trust, but the rest truly are out to get us, so we watch each others’ backs. You take care now.”

“Yeah, you too, Girl.”

That evening during his meal of Pukka steak pie, hash browns, mashed carrots and neeps [rutabaga] with gravy his phone rang. “Hello?” he said.

Only to hear, “All shall be resolved,” before the line went dead.

“Who was that?” asked Veronica, his wife.

“A wrong number I presume, for as soon as they heard my voice they put the phone down.” Veronica was not convinced, but she said nothing.

The following week the media carried news of five families slaughtered and speculated that it was the opening salvo in a turf war between drugs gangs. The husbands of the mothers involved had disappeared and there was a major multiple man hunt going on. The entire families had been wiped out with no evidence left behind to indicate as to how the perpetrators had effected entrance and exit. The murder scenes were bloodbaths and it was considered that had been done deliberately as a warning. Four of the families were local to Finley and all knew they were families of thieves, liars and thugs, and that was just the women and children. The fifth was a lower middle class family from sixty miles away who were considered to earn their living from receiving and selling on stolen goods. That was where Finley’s mower and other things had been found. The police grilled Finley concerning his whereabouts during the time when the deaths occurred, but eventually his solicitor James, one of Finlay’s sons, said, “That’s it, Gentlemen. You now have to either charge my father or let him go. You know he was nowhere near the victims when their murders occurred and you have no evidence a magistrate would accept to authorise you to retain him, so unless you wish to end up in the dock I suggest you allow him to go home.” Reluctantly they released Finley. It was only a matter of days before the missing men had all independently admitted via social media that they had slaughtered their families, though none gave a reason as to why they had done so.

Eventually the mower and other goods too were returned by the police with no questions asked, for the serial numbers proved his ownership.

At irregular intervals over the next three years the five men added further details as to their actions and how they had committed the crimes including stealing Finley’s property. Everything they admitted was shewn to be correct as a result of further police investigations. The police couldn’t trace the social media appearances of the men and for the first twelve months were deeply puzzled as to what was going on. After that they were even more puzzled, for all of the men were feminising, or at least they were acquiring some feminine characteristics. Their voices were raising in pitch and their bodies were widening at the hips. Seen from behind none would take them for a man and by two years after the murders of their families all of the men were prodigiously bosomed. Even more puzzling was their more pronounced Adam’s apples and their heavy facial hair growth. After three years they had full beards, fuller bosoms with nipples like church organ stops, very high voices, wide hips and backsides many a porn star could only dream of, and their whereabouts could have been anywhere on the planet.

When Joe slowly returned to consciousness he became more puzzled by the second. He was in a padded cell with no windows and as far as he could tell no door either. There was no furniture, not even a chair or a bed. The floor and walls were of a resilient material he had never come across before and there was nothing he could do to it. The ceiling was at least twelve feet above the floor and appeared to be of an opaque glassy material. After a few minutes his attention focussed on his naked body. As he took it in he fainted. When he came to he checked himself again, huge breasts, hips and backside, sloping shoulders and dimpled arms, soft skin with a thick black beard a foot long and a huge lump in his throat. His biggest shock was his massive penis and testicles, far bigger than he had ever possessed before. He fainted again. He’d have derived no comfort from knowing his four partners in crime were reacting in exactly the same way. He started screaming for attention, but there was no response. Eventually he fell asleep on the floor exhausted. None of them were to know that once asleep they were anaesthetised and fed via intravenous drips, but all wondered why they never became thirsty nor hungry and how long they had been prisoners in their cells. After what seemed to be weeks? months? they had reached a state of acceptance that possibly they would spend the rest of their lives sleeping it away in their cells.

Their nightmares truly began after reaching that hopeless state of acceptance. “Hello, Joe.” Joe realised like the others that it was his own voice that was speaking, though none were aware the others were nearby.

“Who are you? Where are you?” The questions came thick and fast, but there was no answer.

After every sleep, his own voice said “Hello, Joe.” After weeks? months? Joe, like the others realised that if he kept his mouth shut and said nothing the voice would tell him more. The moment he said anything the voice waited till after his next sleep before resuming with, “Hello, Joe.”

It was to be a long time before Joe and the others found out what was happening. First a mirror appeared and they all shrieked in horror at their Bearded lady like appearance. Their feminine hair was down below their shoulders, as long as their beards. Their hard angular male facial features were at odds with most of their bodies, other than their foot long, wrist thick penises that reached to their knees in front of their swinging scrota containing their testicles that were ovoid in shape, four inches long and two and a half at their maximum diameters. What made it worse was the news that their bodies were totally insensitive to testosterone, they would never experience desire, never mind an erection and there was no medical help to be had. They were freak monsters to themselves.

Eventually the entire ceiling opened as a large flat screen TV. There bit by bit they saw the news footage of the slaughter of their families, the media speculation as to it being due to a turf war by drugs gangs. Then there was the man hunt for themselves and finally they watched themselves admitting to slaughtering their families. After a lot of sleeping and waking periods they listened as they told themselves the deaths of their families was five years ago and every hand out there was against them. There was a price on their heads and any number of major criminals had contributed to the pot. There were the news casts shewing their gradual change to what they looked like now.

They listened with horror to themselves telling them that they would soon be dumped in an alley behind one of the red light district streets of a major city outside the rear entrance to a club that was owned by ‘Louis the Stallion’ reputedly the most psychotic pervert known to man. Theirs was the choice, face certain and perhaps not quick death on the streets by leaving the back alley or seek help inside. Help that would come at a price. Louis would protect them, but he was built as big as they were and he was not insensitive to testosterone, and he was bi. He would be expecting them.

Louis explained, “After I have satisfied myself with you for a few months I shall pay for your GRS, whether you wish it or no, after which you will work in one of my dockside brothels for the rest of your days. I shall ensure you are provided with as much of whatever drug you wish and other than old age the only way out of my care will be when you chose to overdose. You will be watched twenty-four seven and if and when you OD I shall be informed in time to fuck you from this world to the next. After which you’ll be given to a friend of mine who runs a dog fighting racket. His dogs can always use the meat.”

All decided to seek death, but all knew they were too big a coward to go through with that. As their smiling faces told them from the ceilings of their cells. “That was a very expensive mower.”

James had always been convinced of his father’s innocence and lack of any involvement in the slaughters, but he’d always believed his father to be an office worker for the department of Work and Pensions. Not long after the men had disappeared, Veronica said to Finley, “I felt violated knowing those scum had been in our outbuildings at least twice. A ten grand loss I can handle, but folk ratching through our property with a view to taking it from us seriously upset me. I’m glad we got all the stuff back, but I don’t want to know any more.”

Finley quietly said, “It was your credit card that paid for the mower, Love. You well know that Visa underwrites what is bought under its ægis.”

“That is doubtless so. I know Visa operate in every corner of the globe, but I doubt they are friends with professional assassins and black ops operators who owe them favours that they are willing to repay in any corner of the globe. I do understand the philosophy of you and your friends. The women who died were doubtless happy to live high on the proceeds of the ill gotten gains of their men and their children were being reared to be no different from their parents, so to you and the others they were all equally guilty. The men who disappeared I don’t doubt will end up suffering far worse fates than their families suffered, but as I said I do not wish to know any more.”

Years later, Veronica said, “There had to be a reason for what was done to those men, and there have been no reports of their deaths, so I presume they are still living. I’m not stupid, Finley, so someone must be protecting them, but I shudder to think what they are having to do for that protection, and doubtless they were given those boobs for a reason.”

Finley shrugged his shoulders and said, “They chose to embark on a life of crime and are probably capable of nothing else, so doubtless whatever they are doing now is illegal too.”

Veronica grimaced and said, “Aye, doubtless fuelled on coke they are working their arses off. Probably literally.”

Finley smiled and replied, “You read to much of that sort of fiction, Love. It gives you some very exotic ideas.”