Continuing sequel to the classic"Team Spirit" by Janice the Dreamer. Dr. Hanson discovers Honey's job at Bob's home. Chapters 11-15 of 48.

TEAM SPIRIT: THE SECOND HALF
By Meps98

CHAPTER ELEVEN

When Anthony dropped me off at Bob’s house, there was this little old lady waiting there for us. She gave me quite a looking over, which was hardly surprising seeing as I was dressed for the club in a short turquoise skirt, blue scoop front top, 5” heels and a push-up bra, like I need a push-up. She was a little reluctant to let me in but I talked her into it, showed her my driver’s license to seal the deal.

He had left me a list of jobs sitting on the kitchen table, but they were all minor stuff. There was also $500.00 for grocery shopping. I went to bed right away so that I could get an early start on Tuesday. It was a little unsettling, being alone for the first time in almost four years. Unfortunately, it was windy and I jumped at every creak and groan. Eventually, I turned the TV to a dead station and let the hiss drown out the background noise. That’s a little trick I learned when traveling with the Wranglers, though in the past I turned the TV to the wall so the extra light didn’t brighten the room too much. This time, I left the set facing me, the glow was comforting, like a night light. I was asleep in about fifteen minutes.

The list was finished by Tuesday evening and I did a particularly good job, if I do say so myself. I didn’t want Bob to think I was slacking off because he wasn’t here to supervise me. I made a light supper and went straight to the pool, alternating swimming and sitting in the hot tub until almost 11:00 p.m. It was relaxing but not nearly as much fun without Bob. In fact, the whole day had been a little off without him. I assumed it was because I wasn’t used to being alone but the more I thought about it, the more I missed him. Being here at his house had become more that not being at the club.

At first, it had all been about what I was getting away from, the dancing, the whoring, Anthony. But recently, it was more about where I was going to, to be with Bob, the semi-normal life we lead when I’m here.

I stay up late watching a movie on cable, not wanting to go to bed. I end up falling asleep on the couch and wake up at 3:23 a.m., my head resting on a drool soaked throw pillow. I shuffle off to bed, careful not to wake myself so much that getting back to sleep would be difficult. Thankfully, it works and I drop off right away, warm and cozy.

With all my work done, I decide to dedicate Wednesday to me, to do and eat and watch what I want. It starts off with a long, hot bath with some bath salts I bought yesterday. It’s kinda like the hot tub but smells nicer, no chlorine. I think it’s lilac or rose, either way, not bad at all. I was tempted to get one of those scented candles but decided it was just too girly. After drying off, I sit on my bed and polish my nails. They were looking a little shabby and I never get the time at the club to do them right. Anthony keeps me busy from morning to night and I’m so tired at the end of the day, I just want to crash in my bed and get as much rest as I can before it all starts again the next day, then he bitches and moans about me not keeping up appearances. I barely have time to slap on a coat of polish between sets at the club, but today, I’ve got time to strip everything off and do a quality job.

Once the polish is dry, I get dressed and fix waffles for breakfast, with a couple of sausages on the side, plus a mix of orange and pineapple juice. Bob turned me onto the juice blend, it’s the best. I wonder what he’s doing now?

As a general rule, morning television sucks. It’s full of talk shows loaded with women bitching about men. Could I tell them stories! Some of the cooking shows are interesting but most of the rest is crap. Even the sports shows keep running the same highlights from last night, the same ex-jocks spouting off about the subject of the day. That’s why I’ve picked out a lineup of DVD’s to watch for the next few hours. No popcorn though, I’ll save that for later. The first one is “Live Free and Die Hard.” I heard that it was sorta cartoony but I liked the other three, plus Bruce Willis was looking gooood in the recent issue of “People” so I figure, what the hell.

As the movie plays, I catch myself glancing at the couch where Bob usually sits when we watch TV or movies. I hope he’s alright, whatever he’s doing. He hasn’t called ... not that he said he would or anything. It’d just be nice to hear his voice, make sure he’s safe, you know, find out when he’s coming home. I decide to concentrate on the movie and am soon wrapped up in the fights and explosions, though the female bad guy looks really hot in her costume. I wonder what I’d look like in that outfit? It’d be tight in the ass but my tits would make up for that. The credits are rolling just as the doorbell rings.

What am I supposed to do? No one has ever showed up here since I started visiting weekly. What would Bob want me to do? Maybe it’s Anthony? Maybe the little old neighbor lady, checking on me since she knows I’m alone. I get up and walk to the door, slowly dropping my head down to look through the peep hole. When I see who it is, I scream and throw the door open.

“I did not want to just barge in ...” I cut him off by jumping up and hugging Bob around the neck, my head on his chest. He stands there for a moment, then puts his arms around me. “And hello to you too Honey. Is everything alright?”

I look up at him. “It is now.” I reluctantly let go and we walk inside. He sees the tail end of the credits on the television.

“What have you been doing while I have been away?”

“Everything you wanted me to do. The laundry is done, folded and put away. I washed and polished the kitchen floor. The bathrooms are ...”

“I am sure that you have done an admirable job on all of the tasks I gave you.” I stand a bit taller when he says that. “However, I need to speak with you concerning my recent trip. Please have a seat Honey.” I sit down on the couch and Bob sits next to me, not too close though. He picks up the remote, turning the DVD player and television off, then places the remote on the coffee table and turns a little to face me.

“I have been out and about, attempting to confirm the story that you told me about your ... transformation. I am happy, and in many ways totally surprised, to say that I believe you.”

“OH THANK GOD!” I want to jump into his arms but he reaches out and puts a hand on my shoulder, keeping me in place. Instead, I take my left hand, cover his and start to cry with joy and relief. He lets me go on for a moment or two, then slides closer and hugs me, gently patting me on the back. I turn my head, laying it on his shoulder and return the hug, still sobbing. It’s like a damn burst inside me, releasing all the pent up fear, anger, frustration, and humiliation that has built up since I came to work for Anthony. He keeps holding me and patting my back until the tears end. I push back away from him and he releases me.

“Why do you believe me?” I ask.

“It was a number of things, some large, some small” he replies, settling back to his spot on the couch. “There was the botched attempt to create the ‘Honey Sweet-Lay’ identity that we had already discussed. I managed to get a look at the police files concerning the discovery of drugs at your house and your subsequent disappearance. It both matched up with what you said and was so full of holes that clearly someone created this offense from whole cloth. In addition, I checked out your story about being a Wrangler Girl for the Super Bowl three years ago. Were you aware that there are a number of web sites dedicated exclusively to the Wrangler Girls?”

I shake my head “No”.

“Neither was I, though I guess that I should not be surprised. It turns out that you are a minor celebrity among the group of presumptively men who worship the Wrangler Girls.”

“A celebrity?! How do they even know me?”

“They do not know you by name. You are simply the ‘Mystery Girl’ who showed up out of nowhere, performed at the Super Bowl and then disappeared, never to be heard from again. There are a number of pictures of you on these sights, of varying quality plus some amateur video, also of varying quality, but there is no doubt, taken as a group, they prove that you were there, just as you said, looking slightly older than you do today. These Wrangler Girl ‘fans’ know just about everything there is to know about the objects of their obsession, but to them , you are a complete blank. Some of the sites have interviews with other girls who appeared with you, telling a story similar to yours about how you joined the group for just one game, though there is some rather unflattering speculation as to how you managed that.” He reaches out and pats my knee. “I would say that you performed as well as, if not better than, the other girls.”

I blush. “Thanks. I put in a lot of work.”

“It showed. In reading the blogs and other interactive portions of these sites, I would say that the best of these people are barely above the legal description of stalkers. The worst of them ... well, it is a good thing that your identity as the missing Wrangler Girl is not known to them, otherwise you would be extremely busy at the club.”

I shudder to think about it. I hope Anthony never finds out about this. Bob continues.

“I also did a preliminary investigation of Dr. Hanson, her operation and her staff. They are all female, vary in attractiveness and share one amazing trait, they each look to be half, if not one third to a fourth of their respective ages. There is a woman who works there part time, your Ms. Baker, who would appear to be in her late twenties, but is actually over eighty years old. Good genes can not explain that.” He leans back towards me, taking my hands in his. “Most importantly, I spoke with Billy Joe Coleson. He confirmed everything you said, more or less.”

“No! He’d never talk! What did you do, put a gun to his head?”

“No. I put a gun in his hand.”

“Huh?”

“In researching Mr. Coleson, I discovered he had an interest in guns, fancies himself a good shot. I decided to use that interest to get him alone and question him. I also discovered that he has a home game post-victory celebratory routine where he visits a particular bar for a drink. I managed to cause a small disturbance which got his girlfriend briefly out of the picture and introduced myself to him using the alias of ‘Richard Johnson, dealer in exotic and unusual weapons’. He was interested enough to invite me out to his ranch for a demonstration of my inventory.”

“But you don’t have any of that kind of inventory, at least not around here.”

“Correct Honey, but I have certain contacts who do. I rented some equipment from one of them and played the salesman role. By demonstrating my superior ability and regularly praising Josh Thomas, along with comparing him unfavorably to Josh, I was able to get Billy Joe rather agitated. Throw in a generous helping of high alcohol beer and he said quite a bit about Mr. Thomas, mostly derogatory and insulting, but very helpful.”

“I know Billy Joe, he’s no genius but he should be smart enough not to say anything, no matter how pissed he got. He knows what Hanson might do to him, what she did to me. He wouldn’t risk that.”

“If he was sober, yes, but he was under the influence of a special type of beer.”

“What’s so special about it?” Bob doesn’t answer right away.

“Do you remember the first time you used my hot tub?”

“Yes.”

“Do you recall that we had a lengthy conversation?”

I think a moment. “I know we talked awhile ...”

“But you can’t remember what we talked about.”

“Yeah! ... How do you know that?”

“Because your wine was mildly spiked with a drug, not exactly a truth serum, but it does amplify the effects of the alcohol, making a person more ... talkative while muddling the memory after the conversation is done.” I jerk my hand from his.

“YOU DRUGGED ME?!”

“Mildly Honey, mildly. It was necessary. I needed to find out the truth about you. To your credit, you never said anything about your transformation.”

“But you drugged me! How am I supposed to trust you after you’ve done something like that?”

“To be perfectly honest, I see your point.”

“What? ...You’re just going to agree with me?”

“Well, when you are right Honey, you are right. Keep in mind, of course, that I did not need to tell you about the drug or my use of it on you. Also, that both you and Anthony were keeping a very large secret from me, rather badly it turns out. But if my investigatory techniques, which I am employing to help you, lead you to mistrust me, I am afraid there is little I can do about it.”

I’m not sure, but I don’t think there was an apology in there. He really should apologize for drugging me, even if I wasn’t telling him the truth. It’s not my fault that I had to lie to him. If he hadn’t done it though, we probably wouldn’t be here now, trying to figure a way out for me. What do I say about this? I get a sly idea.

“Apology accepted, Bob. Go one with your story.” He lowers his head slightly and cocks one eyebrow, looking up at me through faintly narrowed eyes.

“Apology accepted?”

“Yes. Now go one with your story.” I hold my breath, waiting for his response. He shakes his head and quietly laughs.

“Fine. Thank you for being so understanding.” He bows ever so slightly towards me. I start breathing again. “The dose that Billy Joe received was larger than yours, not only because of the size difference but I needed him to be more willing to talk. Subtle insults and challenges to his manhood would only go so far but the evidence I tracked down indicated he had a strong need to feel respected or deferred to. Since I had demonstrated I was an excellent marksman, it was unlikely that he would attempt to assault me to try and get back at me for my understated digs. The alcohol and drug combined to create a heightened need on his part to ‘take me down a peg’ and since the only thing he knew about me was my stated admiration of Josh Thomas, he chose to attack me by revealing the truth about you, hoping to crush me by crushing my ‘idol’.”

“I guess that makes some sense.”

“Alcohol, in excess, helps a person do stupid things. Combined with the drug, stupidity is almost assured. The trick was to create the environment where I could influence what idiotic thing he did, which was telling me all about his involvement with Dr. Hanson, Anthony and you. In the end, it was hard to get him to shut up. I had to admit he was right about you being a terrible person and deserving all you got in order to put an end to our conversation. He really does not like you, now or then.”

I remember several of his recent visits to me at the club and how they went. “Don’t I know it. What did you do next?”

“I returned the equipment to my contact, paid the bill and drove home, which brings me to here and now.” He spreads his arms apart, palms up.

“So what happens here and now? Can you help me out of this mess?”

“I would say mess is a gross understatement Honey. But yes, I believe I can. As I suspected, Billy Joe Coleson was the weak link in the conspiracy. I now know a great deal about what happened” he gives me a hard look “and why. Dr. Hanson, for all her brilliance, has made some errors, possibly many errors. Further investigation is needed. This may take awhile Honey, certainly weeks, maybe months. As I told you before, you must be patient, must be strong, but I am confident that you can handle it.”

“OK, Bob” I sigh. “What choice do I have?”

“You can say ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ Honey, the biggest choice possible. If you say ‘No’, you will return to the life you know, the life you have lived for the past three years and will continue to live for the foreseeable future. If you say ‘Yes’, you are placing yourself in my hands, at my mercy if you will, trusting that I will do what is necessary to maximize your chances of escape from Dr. Hanson and return to some kind of normal life. I am not guaranteeing success nor that you will once again be Josh Thomas when this is all over. We are stepping into the unknown, down a dark road that will likely be difficult both physically and mentally. I can not promise anymore than that. It is your choice Honey and I will not try to talk you in or out of any particular option. It is your life.”

“It may be my life but if I say ‘Yes’, you’re going to be taking some big chances with your life. Amy Hanson is stone fucking nuts. God knows what she would do if she found out what was going on. She could kill you ... or worse.”

“It is a risk I am willing to take. Besides” he winks at me “I am retired, I have nothing else to do. Gotta keep busy.”

I so want to fuck him right now. I don’t know if it is the gratitude or what but he seems so ... desirable right at this minute. I close my eyes and wait, hoping the feeling will fade. It doesn’t. I can feel my nipples swelling and hardening with each passing second, my pussy getting moist. It’s not even close to the time for me to drink Anthony’s jiz, so that’s not it. I need to get out of here. I open my eyes and stand up.

“I need to think about this for a bit.”

Bob stands too. “Perfectly understandable, Honey, take as long as you like.”

“Thanks. I’m gonna go to my room to ... ah ... think.”

“Be my guest.”

I hurry to my room, close the door, go to the bathroom, turn on the faucet and splash cold water on my face. Four times. I slowly straighten up and dry my face. The front of my blouse is soaked, but I’m feeling more in control. I close my eyes and picture Bob. There’s something there but it’s not as strong as it was a few minutes ago. It must be my hormones or something. I’d say it was that time of the month but I don’t have periods, about the only aspect of being a girl I don’t get to ‘enjoy’. I’ve never asked either Hanson or Anthony about it, but I never ask about anything, just do as I’m told. I look at myself in the mirror, wet hair plastered to my face.

There never has been a choice, not really. I square my shoulders and march back to the living room. Bob is sitting on the couch. He glances at me as I enter the room.

“Honey, is something wrong?”

“Yes.”

“What is it?”

“No.”

“I am confused. Is there or is there not something wrong?”

“No, there is nothing wrong. My answer is ‘Yes’, let’s do it.”

He smiles ... a wide, tight smile. His eyes aren’t smiling though; they are wide open and bright but intense. I’ve seen that look before, on the face of a son of a bitch middle linebacker just before he smacked me to the ground.

CHAPTER TWELVE

I’m between sets early Friday evening. The club is fuller than normal, I think there is some kind of religious convention in town, which always swells our crowd. Dallas isn’t Vegas but it’s as close as some of these guys are ever going to get to Vegas. Away from home, the wife and three point five kids and away from their convention buddies, they come to Anthony’s to practice a little hypocrisy. It’s always funny to watch from the stage when a couple of guys recognize each other and dive for cover. They don’t realize they are protected by Mutually Assured Destruction; Mr. A can’t rat out Mr. B without admitting he was in the same place doing the same thing. Same deal for Mr. B. I’d turn them both in to their priest or bishop or iman or whatever, if I could. Cheating bastards.

Unfortunately, I got a little too close to the crowd during my last set and either Mr. A or Mr. B. got a good grip on my costume and tore it. I’m sitting here backstage trying to repair the damage. We’ve got a decent sewing kit back here for just such emergencies. I’m actually pretty good at this. Some of the other girls ask me to do their repairs, offering me money. What am I going to do with money? Anthony will just take it. I do trade favors though. They’ll do one of my sets for example or sneak me some decent junk food, like Godiva bars. I just adore their chocolate!

My mind keeps drifting back to my last conversation with Bob before I left on Thursday morning.

“Honey” he said. “I will likely ask you many questions in the future about what happened to you while you were imprisoned at Dr. Hanson’s clinic. I will also ask about what is happening currently at the club, what is Anthony up to and so on. It is vital that you tell me the absolute truth, no matter what. My plans will rely on that information so it must be accurate. Regrettably, I will tell you nothing about my plans. Not what I plan to do, when or where. Nothing at all. You can ask, but I am letting you know right now, there will be no answer. I am aware that this is difficult for you but I am more concerned about operational security and ultimate success than any temporary discomfort you may experience. Keep your eyes on the prize. Until I am ready, keep Anthony and Dr. Hanson happy, unless I say otherwise.”

I agreed to do it his way, though I don’t understand why I have to be left in the dark. It’s not like I’m going to tell anyone anything, I’m not some dumb blonde bimbo. I test the just repaired seam - it seems tight enough. I might just take some of my club clothes to Bob’s next week. Not an actual costume or one of the dresses, but maybe a short skirt or tight top or both. See if I can get a rise out of him.

* * ** * ** * ** * *

I think the time at Bob’s has been good for Honey. Her attitude seems better. Can’t put my finger on exactly what’s different. Her dancing is just as good as before. I get no complaints from her customers, in fact a few say she’s particularly enthusiastic. She does whatever I tell her to do without any back talk, not that she ever would. I solved that problem right away the first week she was here, though the Doc had to work her magic on that broken arm. Something just feels different somehow. Maybe she’s getting along with the other girls better. Honey had always been a little stand-offish when it came to mixing with them, which didn’t make any difference to me. Now, when I go back to the dressing room, she’s likely to be talking with a couple of them, getting tips about make-up or clothes or other girly shit like that.

She also seems to spend more time getting ready for her weekly trip to Bob’s, hair and make up, that sort of thing. Just as long as she keeps him happy and the money rolling in.

* * ** * ** * ** * *

We’re sitting on the couch, at opposite ends, feet propped up on the coffee table, near enough for me to play footsies if I wanted to - which I don’t. Though it would be interesting to see how Bob reacted, purely out of curiosity. The television is on, some PBS program about Afghanistan. Bob’s half watching, half reading some papers in a binder. When I asked him what they were, he just put his index finger to his lips and said “sshhhhsss”, which is his current sign for “I’m not telling”. I understand why but I don’t have to like it. I’m just going to sit here and put on my pouting act, arms crossed, head down on chest, lower lip thrust out. He looks over at me.

“You may change the channel if you wish, Honey.”

“No thanks. It’s your house so we do what you want.” Keep those arms tight.

“As you wish.” He goes back to reading. Shit! Either he didn’t notice or doesn’t care. God! He can be soooo frustrating some times! I give up and pick up the newspaper to read the sports page. An ad insert falls in my lap. It’s from Kohl’s, a three day sale. There’s this very cute dress on the front page so I set the paper aside and start to page through the ad. They’ve got a lot of stuff on sale, some of it very pretty. I fold the page over and put my thumb next to a particularly nice halter style dress.

“What do you think about this?” I hold it out towards Bob. He looks up from his paperwork, reaches out and angles the ad so that he can see it.

“For me or for you?”

“Hardy har har. For me, silly.”

“It seems a little fancy for around the house.”

“Sure, but we might go out for supper again ... maybe. And I could, you know, wear it and ... look nice.”

“But you already have a nice dress, that ivory one with the red in it.”

“OK, I have one nice dress, but I can’t wear it for everything.”

“I do not see why not. It is a perfectly good dress and you look quite attractive in it.”

“But I’d look attractive in this one too.” He looks at me with that cocked eyebrow, pausing as if considering something. He’s silent for like half a minute.

“Yes ...” he says quietly, his eyes not focused on me but looking out in space somewhere.

“Yes what?”

He snaps back to earth. “Yes, go buy your dress and we will go out to eat, probably next week or the week after, I am not exactly sure when but we will do it soon.”

“Great! I’ll do it first thing tomorrow when they open. The girls say you have to be there early to get the best stuff.”

“What girls?”

“You know, the girls at the club, the other dancers. Candi and Sherri and Michelle and ...”

“I was not aware that you were friends with the other performers.”

“Well Candi certainly is. The others are just ... we just talk sometimes, you know. They’re nice girls.” He nods his head.

“I understand.” He returns to his binder. I sigh and get up to fix supper. Men just don’t get it sometimes.

* * ** * ** * ** * *

I’m taking my usual swim after supper, dressed in a bikini I bought a couple of weeks ago. If you wear the same suit all the time, it gets worn out quicker. If you alternate, both suits last longer. I’m sure I read that somewhere. Bob’s sitting at the table on the deck, watching me. I keep trying to get him into the pool but he just won’t do it. I’d push him in, but he doesn’t seem to be the type who would find that funny and I’m not ready to take that chance. He’s ready with my robe when I get out.

“Thanks.”

“You are welcome, Honey.” We walk back to the table and he pulls my chair out for me, as usual.

The first time he did that, I didn’t know what to do. It had never happened before. It took me a few seconds to remember that’s what a gentleman does for a woman. Nothing like that ever happens at the club. Here he always opens the door for me, pulls out my chair, all the best manners. At first it felt weird, but now I kinda like it. I used to do that sort of thing with women when I wanted to impress them, but it usually faded away the longer I was in the relationship. Bob never misses a chance, even if he’s using his cane.

The cane comes and goes. Some days he has a real hard time getting around but he does it by himself, won’t take my help at all. It’s male pride, pure and simple. They can be idiots sometimes. Tonight he’s walking fine.

I sit down and he rubs my shoulders through the robe. He’s got surprisingly strong hands but he knows just where to touch and how hard. I bet he could give one hell of a massage. Maybe some day ...

“Would you like something to drink, Honey?”

“White wine if it is not drugged.”

“You will not let that go, will you?”

“No.”

He turns to go to back to the house. “Women” he says with mock disgust. I hope it’s mock disgust. He should know that I’m just kidding. He brings a glass back, looks me in the eye, takes a small sip, smiles and places it in my hand, brushing my fingers with his. I relax; he knows I’m joking around.

He sits down and stares at me as I take a drink. It’s a little unnerving.

“What?” I ask.

“To what are you referring?”

“You’re staring at me like you’ve got something on your mind. What is it?” He doesn’t answer right away but chews on his lower lip a few seconds and drums his fingers on the table top. That usually means he’s undecided about something. It never lasts long with Bob.

“I have some questions for you.” I sit back in my chair and cross my legs, letting the robe slip open, giving him a good look.

“Shoot.”

“These are different questions than before. They have nothing to do with any plans. They are about you personally.”

‘That’s fine, go ahead.”

“Very personal Honey.”

I take another drink. “I got it, ask away.”

“You are in a unique situation, the first in all of the history of the world as best as I can determine. You are a man who lived a full and complete life as a man, with no desire to be anything else other than a man, who became a completely functioning woman, down to your DNA. No operations, no imitation vagina, no breast implants, no artificial hormones. You are as much a woman as any female on the planet, more so than some. You are a woman with memories of being a man.”

I don’t think I like where this is going. It’s not something I think about. In fact, I try not to think about it. Bob keeps talking.

“I realize that you were not raised as a woman. You have no memories of tea parties, dolls, playing dress up or other stereotypical female childhood activities, but you are as close as any man ever has come to knowing what it is like to have been both a man and a woman. You are in the position to answer so many questions men have as to what it is like to be a woman, how do they think, what do they think, what exactly is the view from the other side of the bed, so to speak. Your experiences since the change have been, to be blunt, horrifying, but you may be able to separate those experiences from the basic status of being female and what that means.”

“So, what’s your question?” I quietly ask, pulling my robe across my body.

He leans across the table. “What is it like to be a woman?”

“It sucks.”

“Does it suck to be you, in your situation, or suck to be female in general?”

“The whole GOD DAMN THING SUCKS!” He doesn’t seem to be surprised or shocked by what I just said.

“I apologize for asking you to describe your feelings. I knew that it would be difficult for you to be analytical about your situation, given how you have been treated. Perhaps in the future it may be possible. Once again, I apologize.”

I stand up, pushing my chair back. “I’m going to bed.”

“Good night Honey. Pleasant dreams.”

I don’t reply, just walk straight into the kitchen, through the living room, into my bedroom, closing the door behind me and flop, face first, on the bed. Pulling myself up to the head of the bed, I roll onto my side, hug the pillow and quickly fall into a fitful sleep.

I'm sitting on my bed at the club, dressed in the Naughty Nurse costume, short, white uniform dress, buttoned in the front, lapels cut down almost to top of my stomach. White stockings with elastic tops and 5" "fuck me" pumps. A push up bra has my tits so far up and out that the dress barely contains them. My hair is in a big bun with a white nurse's cap pinned to it. I slide to the edge of the bed, stand up and walk around the room, first checking the window and then the door. They are both locked. I go back to the window and look outside.

The Wranglers are scrimmaging out in the parking lot. I watch a couple of plays, then they all stop, turn towards my window and wave at me. I weakly wave back. The quarterback takes off his helmet. It's Josh Thomas.

I duck down below the window, hoping he doesn't see me but in a few seconds I hear someone in cleats walking down the hallway towards my room. Whoever it is slowly opens the door, then steps inside. It's him ... or me, still in uniform.

"Hello, Honey. I like your outfit." He sits down on the bed and pats it with his left hand. "Why don't you come on over and sit your fine ass down next to me."

"Like hell I will!" I say, but start to strut towards him, rolling my hips and bouncing my tits. I bend way down, sticking my ass out as the dress rises, revealing my thong covered pussy. I edge back until I make contact with the bed, then sit back. Once upright, I wriggle closer to ... him until our legs are touching. I look up at him. He’s not as big as Anthony but he’s still much bigger than I am.

“Now, isn’t that better, Honey?”

“No! What’s going on here? Why are you ... I ...whatever, here?”

“I’m just here because Billy Joe says your one hell of a fuck, thought I might try you out. You must have been expecting me; you know how I love the nurse thing.” He reaches out and grabs my knee. I want to push his hand off, or slap his face but I don’t move, can’t move.

“We can’t do that! We’re the same person. How are you even here? I don’t understand...” He quickly reaches up with his left hand, grabs my hair and roughly pulls me to his mouth, kissing me, forcing his tongue deep into my mouth. I don’t resist at all, just kiss him back, the stubble of his day old beard scraping my face. He turns to face me, still kissing, and forces me back onto the bed, laying on top of me. I involuntarily spread my legs wide as he pushes his hips forward, grinding against my crotch. He breaks the kiss and pushes himself up on his arms.

I gasp for breath. “What are you doing?!”

“Oh, I think you know Honey.” The dress is up around my waist and he gyrates his hips, rocking against my fabric covered cunt. It feels so good, I can’t help moaning, then I bit my lip to try and shut up, but he heard me.

He starts laughing, but it’s not friendly at all. “I knew you were just a whore Honey, just like Billy Joe and Anthony ... and Hanson said.”

“I’m not a whore! She did this to me! To us!” He backs away from me until he’s standing next to the bed. Maybe he’s done and will leave me alone. He starts to unbuckle his pants.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Honey. I’m still here, still all man...” he drops his pants. His ... my ... cock bouncing in front of him, as hard and as big as I have ever seen it “...still with all the necessary equipment to fuck you till the cows come home.” He climbs back between my legs, reaches up and tears my panties clean off in one jerk. He plunges his index finger into my pussy. “And you’ve got the necessary equipment too.” He starts to push his finger in and out as I squirm on the bed.

“No! Stop! You can’t do this! Hanson did it to me, made me a weak girl.” He stops probing my cunt.

“And what did you do to stop her?”

“Huh?”

“What did you do to fight her? To stop her from doing this to you?”

“I don’t underst...” He leaps on top of me, his legs pinning my arms down, his body looming above me, his cock pointing between my eyes.

“YOU DID NOTHING! You just sat there and did what you were told! Day in and day out!”

“I tried to run away but…”

“OH, ‘RUN AWAY’, how manly! You didn’t do shit until it was too late! By the time you ‘ran away’, you were making love to that fucking vibrator fifty times a day. Remember your vibrator? You rubbed that thing up and down that tiny nub of a dick, sticking it up your ass, until you orgasmed, then started right up again. The only time you weren’t fucking yourself with it was when you ate, slept or ... danced.”

“I was just exercising, trying to get better. How was I to know that...”

“’Exercising’ in 4” heels is dancing you idiot! What a fucking pansy! You deserve everything she did to you!”

“What do you know?! If you hadn’t raped her, none of this would have happened.” He slapped me, hard. I started to cry.

“I don’t rape women. Sometimes they may not like it at first but they come around. It’s just a game all you bitches play. I’ll show you.” He reaches down and grabs my throat, slowly squeezing harder. I try to ask him to stop but he stuffs his cock in my mouth, forcing it in as far as it will go. Again, my body is on autopilot and I start to suck, lick and slurp on his dick, trying with all my might to swallow the whole thing. It only takes a few seconds and my nose is buried in his hairy crotch.

“There, didn’t I tell you? You were giving me all this shit when all you really wanted was to suck my cock down to the root. Well, now you’ve got your wish.” He starts to rock his hips back and forth, fucking my mouth. He moves faster and faster, banging the back of my throat with each thrust. I look up at him. He’s got an evil grin on his face. I’ve seen it before. When I had sex with someone and there were mirrors available, I liked to do it so I could watch myself screwing.

That’s the look. It’s a hell of a lot different being the subject of that look. He keeps banging away until I feel his cock swell and he starts shooting his cum down my throat straight to my stomach. He pulls out so that the last few spurts go up my nose. I gag and choke, trying to catch my breath.

“Wasn’t that fun, Honey? Let’s try something else.” He rolls off me, reaches around my waist, flips me over onto my stomach and pulls my hips up until I’m on my knees, face against the mattress. He’s behind me, rubbing the head of his still hard cock against my pussy lips, pushing it in just an inch or so and pulling it back out, over and over.

“You want me to fuck you, don’t you?”

“NO! Leave me alone! This is your fault, you bastard! I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t been such a jerk! You and your big ego! If you had just given a little thought to how you treated women, I’d still be a man.”

“True but then you couldn’t enjoy this, now could you?” He pushed his big cock deep into my vagina, right up to the hilt, in one continuous thrust. My eyes crossed as I gasped, fighting a losing battle against the rush of pleasure, the electric sensations running up my spine straight to my brain. He held my hips and began a slow, rhythmic fucking, pulling out almost the whole way, leaving just the tip of the head inside, and plunging all the way back in with each stroke. Each time, I pushed back against him, urging him on. I’ve raised my self up on my arms so that my back is parallel with the bed, my boobs bouncing with each thrust. After a minute or two, he starts to increase his pace, grunting with the effort. I push back harder, moaning and groaning as my smoldering pussy catches fire. He leans down against my back, reaches around me from both sides, grabs my dress and tears it apart, buttons flying away, freeing my tits. He grabs them with both hands, mauling and pulling at them as he fucks me faster and faster. It’s getting harder to form complete thoughts, all I can think about is sex, fucking and ... more fucking.

By now, we are both just rutting animals, grunting, groaning, sweating, panting, crying, begging, and cursing. I feel as if I am about to have the greatest orgasm of my life. I’m being man handled by Josh as if I’m a rag doll. Just as I’m about to cum, he leans close to me ear and whispers.

“You’re a cunt, Honey Sweet-Lay, a fucking whore of a cunt. That’s all you were, are or ever will be.”

I wake up, heart pounding and sweaty.

My bikini bottom is down around my knees and my top is hanging around my neck. My left hand is grasping my right boob while my right hand is buried in my wet twat. I quickly pull both hands away, holding them in the air in front of me. I roll my head to the left to look at the clock. It’s 3:12 a.m.

* * ** * ** * ** * *

“Honey, what are you doing up at this hour?”

I am laying curled up on the couch in the living room, wrapped in a blanket, head resting on a throw pillow, the television turned on, tuned to ESPN but the volume is low.

“I’m sorry, Bob. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You did not” he yawns, “I was going to the bathroom and heard the television. I thought that I had accidentally hit the timer or something and came out to check on it.” He sits down on the couch near my feet. “Is there something wrong?”

I sit upright, still clutching the blanket around me. “I had a ... weird dream. I didn’t want to go back to sleep because I might end up in the same dream, so I came out here to watch TV and try to stay awake.”

He puts his arm around my shoulder. “Was it a nightmare?’

“Sort of ... it was scary, but that wasn’t the worst of it.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” I lean against him, so that my back is resting against his chest. He wraps both arms around my waist.

“Not yet, maybe later.” We stay like this for several minutes, him gently holding me close to his chest.

“I cry a lot more” I say quietly, not looking up at him, just staring off into space.

“Excuse me?”

“I said that I cry a lot more. You asked about what it was like to be a woman. I don’t know if it’s because of being at the club and all or just hormones, but sometimes my emotions are just all over the place. Sometimes I’m OK but mostly it’s sadness, so I cry a lot ... at night.”

“You do not have to talk about this Honey, if it upsets you.”

“It’s all I can think about since you brought it up and that fucking dream. I’ve been laying here, practically making a list in my head. Besides the obvious stuff, the tits and pussy, there’s just a whole lot of shit that’s different. I’m so much smaller and weaker than I was, almost everything scares me. If anything bad happens, my first thought is how to get away. When I was Josh Thomas, most of the time I went looking for trouble. I think it hurts more when I get hit. I used to take quite a pounding and get up for more but now one punch from Anthony and I’m down in serious pain.”

“That could just be the size and strength differential. Anthony is nearly three times your weight. You did not run into many 700 lb. players on the field.”

“No, I didn’t” I giggle “But it still hurts.”

“I am not surprised; most studies indicate that women are more sensitive than men. They also are better at picking up emotional cues.”

“Yeah, that’s another thing. I’m better at guessing what someone else is thinking or going to do. I can read a person; particularly Anthony or Hanson, better than I used to, though that could just be survival instinct taking over. Sometimes when I’m on stage, I can point right at the guy who’s likely to give me trouble before I’m thirty seconds into my set.”

“What about emotional relationships?”

“I’ve had hundreds of fifteen to twenty minute ‘relationships’, what do you want to know?”

“That is not what I meant, though your point is valid. Due to your unusual circumstances, you have not had the opportunity to form a healthy relationship with another person.”

I wriggle my back against him. “Until now.”

“I do not know if you could call our relationship a healthy one.”

“Yeah, about that. Why aren’t you fucking me?” I hold my breath, waiting for his answer.

“Do you ... want me to?”

“Sometimes ... yes ... it could be ... you know ... nice.” He doesn’t say anything for several moments, each one a small pin prick in my heart. He clears his throat.

“Not that I haven’t given the possibility considerable thought ... considerable thought mind you. I came to the conclusion, Honey, that it would be best that we avoid ... romantic entanglements for now. A ... physical relationship could cloud my judgment, something we both want to avoid.”

“You remember I said I’m better at reading people now?”

“Yes.”

“Bullshit.”

He laughs. “You could be correct Honey, but it is my decision and it will not change ... for now.” We’ll see about that buddy.

“Fine. Anyway, that’s part of the list why it sucks to be a woman.”

“I beg to differ Honey, there is nothing in that list that leads one to the conclusion that it ‘sucks’ to be a woman verses a man.”

“What do you mean? Women are so much weaker, we can’t defend ourselves. Men push us around, paw at us all the time! If I was still a man, I wouldn’t have to take that.”

“You have valid complaints Honey, but they are limited to your situation at Anthony’s not your status as a woman.”

“But it is so god damn humiliating!”

“Alright, let us start there. Let me ask you a few questions. Do you think you can answer them truthfully?”

“Sure.”

“Good. First question, when Josh Thomas was in a relationship with a woman, do you think she felt humiliated.”

“No, not really ... at least not most of the time.”

“You mean until you did something to humiliate her?”

“Yeah” I reply quietly.

“We will skip that for now. Second question, do you think your partners at that time enjoyed having sex with you?”

“Hell yes!”

“Good. Third question. Do you sometimes enjoy sex as a woman? Remember, be honest, keeping in mind that you just said that you have considered having sex with me.”

I was trapped. “Yes, sometimes I enjoy it but only because Hanson made me that way.”

“I understand, but you admit that sex as a woman can be enjoyable, yes?”

“Yes, what of it?”

“You will see. Fourth question, was Josh Thomas the strongest man in the world?”

“Of course not!”

“The strongest player in the league?”

“NO!”

“The strongest player on the Wranglers?”

“No.”

“The offense?”

“No, look I see where you’re going...”

“The backfield?”

“OK I got it...”

“Answer please.”

“NO!”

“So ... uh ... Ninth question. Do you think that there were women in the world who were physically stronger than Josh Thomas, who were faster, who could lift more weight, run farther and so on?”

“Yeah, probably.”

“So strength of an individual is measured along a continuum, with a mix of men and women ahead of Josh Thomas on that continuum and a mix of men and women behind him.“ I start to object but Bob raises his hand. “Admitting that the ratio of men to women stronger that Josh Thomas is weighted in favor of the men and weighted in favor of the women for those weaker than him.”

“OK.”

“So far, so good. Eleventh question, though that last question was more of a statement on my part than a question ... but I digress. Was your mother a good mother?”

“Hey! What’s my mother got to do with....”

“It is a simple question, was she a good mother?”

“She was a great mother! The best!”

“Was she smart?”

“Very!”

“Loving?”

“Yes.”

“Accomplished?”

“Sure.”

“Attractive?”

“You watch it! Are you saying...”

“Just asking if she was a nice looking woman. I am not insinuating anything.”

“OK. Yes, she was beautiful.”

“Tough?”

“She could be, sometimes, if necessary.”

“Seventeenth question. Would your answers be the same if I asked the same questions about your grandmothers?”

“Uh, wait, let me think... ... yeah, pretty much the same, though I’m not sure how good looking they were, I mean I thought they were beautiful, but every kid thinks that about their Grandma.”

“And tough?”

“Yes. Talk about tough, my mom’s mom, Gram, you didn’t cross her, not if you wanted to see tomorrow.”

“Eighteenth question. Did you know your mother and grandmothers well?

“They all raised me.”

“So ’yes’?” I nod my head.

“Penultimate question. Would you say they were strong, confident, socially well adjusted people, living life to its’ fullest?”

“Absolutely”

“Twentieth question.......ready?”

“Is that the twentieth question?”

“No, just making sure you are prepared to think about it.”

“Go on.”

“Given all the prior questions and your answers, is it not fair to say that one’s sex has nothing to do with your place in life or the world but what you do with the opportunities presented to you. Any human being can live a good or bad life as either a man or a woman ... it is all up to you.”

“But I am a whore at ...”

“We are working on that. Is there something intrinsically humiliating about being a woman? Was your mother humiliated at being a woman? Your grandmothers? Or did they seize the opportunities presented to them. Different opportunities than those presented to men perhaps but men’s opportunities would have been equally limited by their sex and the standards of their world.”

“Is that the twenty first question?”

“No, a clarification of the twentieth question. How about an answer Ms. Sweet-Lay?”

“What was the purpose of all this?”

“You know as well as I do Honey, you are no fool, at least I hope you are not. Men and women are equals, some better than others but it is their individual differences that make them good or bad, not their sex. You say you are weak but that has nothing to do with your sex. I know a number of women who I would think twice about taking on in a fight. You could be as formidable as they are, you just lack training. But strength is not just physical, it is mental, it is moral, it is will power, none of which depends on you being male or female. Plus, you have already admitted that you can enjoy the physical aspects of being a woman, so sex as a woman must be as good as sex as a man.”

“Uhhhh ... maybe ... well, better.” His eyes widen.

“If any one is qualified to make that statement, Honey, you are. I defer to your expertise. Do you have an answer to question twenty?”

“Yes, you’re right. I may not like being a whore at Anthony’s club but I guess there’s nothing wrong with women, in general. I know a lot of really good women.”

“Then I suggest that you use them as role models for now. I have no idea when we will be in a position to attempt an escape from Dr. Hanson, so you might as well start becoming the best person you can be with what you have to work with. No matter what happens down the road, you will be better off for the effort.” He looks over at the clock on the VCR. “It is too late to go back to bed. How about we get dressed and go out for an early breakfast?” I turn to face him, lean in and kiss his cheek, holding it for a second or two.

“You’re on.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

That early morning conversation with Bob stuck with me. How would my mother deal with my situation? My grandmas? Gram would have been kicking ass and taking names from the start. She was about five foot nothing, 100 pounds soaking wet and possibly the toughest person I ever knew, man or woman. If she thought she was right, nothing would stop her. There was this one time when I was sixteen and promised to cut her grass, then blew the job off to go swimming with some friends. When I got back, she was standing in the driveway, legs spread and arms crossed. She started giving me shit about responsibility and keeping promises and I told her to shut up ... though with a little more colorful language. She grabbed my ear, jerked my head down to her level and drug me into the house, damn near tore it off. When we got to her kitchen, she let me go.

I was stupid enough to take a swing at her. She ducked it, came up underneath with a sneaky right and caught me square on the jaw. It was like being hit with a rock. Her old hand was just bone and muscle. I went down on my ass. She grabbed the other ear, told me to get out and not come back until I was ready to apologize.

I was so embarrassed. A seventy year old lady almost half my size had knocked me down. I thought she would call my mom, tell her what happened and then all hell would break lose at home, but the call never came. She kept the whole thing quiet, just between us. It took me two weeks to swallow my pride and apologize. She accepted it and we never spoke about it again but she told me something at the time that I had forgotten all about.

“You’re a good boy” she said, “but you’re headed down the wrong road. Just because you can play football doesn’t make you better than everyone else. If you don’t start behaving yourself, things won’t go well for you. I won’t be around forever to keep you in line.”

She died two years later, lung cancer. Never could kick that cigarette addiction, but she fought to the end.

Turns out, she called it right.

Bob told me not to cause any problems with either Anthony or Hanson, he needed time to think. He didn’t want some kind of conflict between me and them to complicate matters, things were tough enough as they were. I played it normal at the club, did what I was told, what I was expected to do. I started being nicer to the other girls though, talking with them more, helping with costumes, make up and stuff. I didn’t get much of a response at first but they came around a little.

They had thought that I was Anthony’s “favorite”, getting all the best sets, not having to work the crowd as often with lap dances, all my “special” customers. I didn’t tell them the truth. How could I possibly explain not just quitting because of the abuse? It was hard enough for Bob to believe me, the other girls never would, not even Candi. I just told them I’d try to make sure they got better treatment but that ultimately, it was Anthony’s call.

Everything was routine for a couple of weeks. I hadn’t seen Hanson for over six weeks, which was unusual. She’d usually drop in every two to three weeks, just to watch me dance. I think she occasionally brought someone with her for me to have sex with. It would almost always be a bad one, rough, violent and kinky. Then there were the six month check ups when I’d spend a week or so back in the clinic, getting shots and pills and learning new routines from Ms. Baker. But not a sign of her recently. No news is good news.

I was at Bob’s two weeks after that strange dream. I was relaxing in the hot tub, a glass of wine next to me. Bob was sitting at the table, as usual. It had been a bad day for him, more seizures than usual. He’d actually fallen once but caught himself on the couch. He let me help him up, which surprised me. He’d also gotten a phone call, a first since I’d been coming here. He took it in his office and I was vacuuming at the time so I didn’t hear anything. The dream had been on my mind.

“Bob?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think that I could have ... stopped all this from happening to me?”

“You mean all that Dr. Hanson did?”

“Yeah, that.”

He leaned back in his chair and took a sip of water. “Certainly there were several times, mostly early in her scheme, where you could have thwarted her.”

“Gee ... thanks.”

“Did you not want the truth?”

“Sure ... it’s just ... remember that dream I had awhile ago?”

“The one where you did not go back to bed?”

“That one. In it ... someone said I didn’t do anything to stop her.”

“Well, you did not.”

“You’re not helping, Bob.”

“I think that you may be asking the wrong question, Honey. Yes, there are many things that you could have done, but Dr. Hanson’s plan was sheer brilliance. Her infiltration of the Wranglers, her ability to get management on her side, their application of financial pressure on you to comply with her treatment plan, the use of Billy Joe Coleson as a threat to your job, the unqualified success of her treatments on the rest of the team, and finally, her ability to isolate you from the world and accelerate your transformation, all quite masterful. After that, she screwed up left and right but the consequences have not struck home yet. So the question is not could you have stopped her, but were you likely to be able to stop her. The answer to that question is no, you were not likely to have stopped her. She counted on your years of being a team sport player, accustomed to taking orders and following them, not without the occasional grumble and a bit of rebellion now and then but, by and large, you did what you were told. Once you came under her complete control at the clinic, you were done for. It is no small miracle that you managed to avoid your drugs and clear your head. Her people had gotten lax. Of course, by then it was too late. Your semen addiction was fully implemented and all chance of anything beyond a temporary escape was gone. Was this person in your dream accusing you of cowardice?”

“I’m not sure what I … he meant, it’s just haunted me a bit since then.”

“I would not take it seriously, Honey, it was only a dream.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Perhaps this will improve your mood. I have decided, with your consent of course, to take you to dinner tomorrow night. You will get a chance to wear that new dress you bought.”

“That’s great! Where are we going?”

“A little restaurant not too far from here. It does require a reservation so we will need to be there by 7:00.”

“Are you going to be well enough to go?”

“I will manage Honey, I will manage.”

* * ** * ** * ** * *

It was a very nice place. Bob opened the door for me and we walked in. We had parked around the block and even though he was still using his cane, Bob was getting around a bit better. The lobby had several cushy chairs, but there was no one waiting for a table, Wednesdays aren’t usually that busy for most restaurants. He stepped up to the maitre de, who nodded and bowed ever so slightly.

“Good evening, Sir, Madam. Welcome to ‘Toulouse’, may I assist you?” Bob returned the nod and bow.

“Good evening. We have a reservation for 7:00 o’clock.” The maitre de lifted his head just enough to look over Bob’s right shoulder at me.

I’m wearing the light pink knot front dress I bought two weeks ago. It’s made of matte jersey, with a fit-and-flare style; the skirt is loose and flirty, stopping two inches above my knees but is snug around my hips and waist, wide straps over my shoulders. The bodice is not too revealing, certainly nothing like I normally wear. Some women might think I’m showing more cleavage than I should but Bob likes it and that’s all I care about. He did buy me a red shoulder wrap to wear tonight because the restaurant might be a bit chilly. He said that any place that requires a coat and tie tends to keep the temperature down so that the men are comfortable, which means the women are cold. I never noticed that when I took women out on dates but then I wasn’t wearing a slinky mini-dress and a thong. All and all, I think what I’m wearing is pretty conservative. The maitre de’s face doesn’t react to me but his eyes do, the pupils dilating.

He’s turned on. I turn just a little bit to the left and give him a shy smile. His breathing picks up ever so slightly.

It’s amazing what a pretty girl can do to a man with just the smallest action. I still remember the type of things that got my motor running when I was a guy. It was almost always the little things. A quick brush with the fingertips against the arm, leaning in close to whisper in the ear, the “accidental” bump against the crotch with the grab of the arms to keep from “falling”, the light touch when moving through a crowd. Now that I’m on the sending side instead of the receiving, it’s fun to see what I can do. I don’t get much practice at the club, it’s hard to be subtle on the stage and nothing is subtle when they get me alone in my room. However, when I’m out in public like a regular person, I can try out all the tricks the other girls tell me about. I’ve tried a lot of them on Bob but didn’t get much of a reaction. I thought I was doing them wrong but it turns out that Bob’s just a tough room. I get all kinds of reactions when I go shopping, particularly at the grocery stores. Horny teenage stock boys are like shooting fish in a barrel. This maitre de has seen a lot of great looking women in his time, but I’ve got his attention. Bob slides a few inches to the right, blocking his view.

“The name is ‘James’.”

He reluctantly looks down at his reservation book. “Yes, Sir, please follow me.” He turns and leads us into the dining room. I step up close to Bob, not wanting to take his arm but I want to be close, should he stumble or something. We get a small table near the middle of the room. The maitre de pulls out a chair for me. I gracefully sit and look up at him over my left shoulder, smiling again.

“Thank you.”

“You are welcome Madam, enjoy your meal.”

He took the opportunity to enjoy looking down my dress and getting a good view of my boobs. I turn my attention back to Bob. He’s sat down, resting his cane against the chair next to him. He’s smiling at me but doesn’t say anything.

“What?”

“That was very nicely done, Honey.”

“What did I do?” I ask, using my innocent voice, letting the pitch rise at the end. Candi showed me that one. Bob chuckles.

“The way you were working our maitre de. I would have let it continue out of sheer curiosity, but since I am hungry, it was brought to a premature end.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” I lean forward a few degrees, improving his viewing angle immensely. His smile grows bigger.

“You really have the coquettish girl down pat. A hint of innocence, the enthusiasm of youth, the barely restrained sexuality … it is all there. If you were free to regularly mix with the general population, most males would not stand a chance.” He takes a sip of water. “I wager that if I could drop you in any high school in the country, you would be the most popular girl there within a month, six weeks at most.” Another sip. “Assuming the other girls did not kill you out of jealousy.”

“Oh I’m getting along a lot better with other women now. I took your advice.”

“Which was?”

“You remember, to try and become the best person I could even with the ‘limitations’ of my situation. I’m just trying to be the kind of person the women in my family would approve of, ignoring what I do at the club, of course.”

“Of course. I am guessing that your presence tonight should guarantee us prompt service, at the very least.”

* * ** * ** * ** * *

“Good evening, Dr. Hanson.”

“Good evening, Andre. My usual table please.”

“Certainly Madam, follow me please.”

I haven’t been here for a few weeks. “Toulouse” is one of my regular stops but I have been out of town for two weeks. I’ve never been much of a cook, why spend the time when you can afford to have someone else do it for you. That means I either eat out a lot, order takeout or pick up prepared food at the grocery store. Normally that kind of a diet would not be good for my figure but that’s not a problem for me. Andre pulls my seat out for me and I sit down. Normally he would fawn over me a little, which is annoying, but his attention is elsewhere tonight, looking towards the middle of the room. My preferred seat is off to the side with a view out the window. It is something to watch while I eat. As Andre strolls back to the front door, he makes a detour to stop at a table with two people, a man and his presumably younger companion, I can’t tell for certain. It is difficult to say how old the man is and all I can see of the woman is the back of her head ... though there is something familiar about her.

* * ** * ** * ** * *

“Everything is very nice, thank you ... Andre. The waiter came right away and has already taken our orders.”

“I am glad to hear that, Madam. Please let me know if you need anything.” He nods at me and then nods at Bob. “Sir.” He walks away, back towards the front door as Bob helps himself to some bread.

“Told you so” he says between bites.

“It’s like they want us out of here fast.”

“Far from it Honey, they want you to stay the night but they also want you happy, ergo the exceedingly prompt service. I suspect that Andre will check on us at least once more before we are done. I believe that our soup and salads are already here.”

Our water arrives with a platter holding the first course of our meal. Bob ordered a vichyssoise and garden salad. I decided to try their Caesar salad and sautéed mushrooms. The chef must have busted a gut to get everything done so quickly. We eat in silence, but I am aware of the waiters frequently walking by our table. I sneak a quick look at Bob, who’s looking back at me with a lopsided smile. He’s aware of it too. I return his smile.

“This salad is very good. I wish I could make one as good.”

“I imagine that if you ask, Andre would only be too happy to give you a guided tour of the kitchen with a brief lesson thrown in for good measure.”

I’m tempted to do it, if only to see what would happen.

* * ** * ** * ** * *

I prefer eating alone. Actually, I prefer doing most everything by myself, never been much of a people person. Perhaps, more accurately, I am not a stupid people person. Compared to me, most people are fools and I do not suffer fools gladly. Certainly I have colleagues, even some whose work I respect, but dealing with inferior intellects is tiring. Sometimes I find it almost unbearable that I can not publish my recent discoveries but the world is not ready to know the truth. Small minds imposing unreasonable rules and regulations on scientific progress forces true visionaries, such as myself, to operate in the shadows, scrambling for funding wherever we can. Thankfully, the Wrangles don’t ask any questions. They just accept the results and reward me for my success.

I look around the restaurant as I eat my meal. It is not very crowded, which is normal for a Wednesday. They are mostly older couples and individuals. I smile to myself. Actually, they are probably younger than I am, you just wouldn’t know it to look at me. The couple that Andre is fawning over is different though. He appears to be some kind of professional and she hasn’t taken her eyes off him, not once that I can see, other than to acknowledge Andre or their waiter. She hasn’t turned her head once, at least not when I have been looking. There is just something about her that seems so familiar, but many girls today dress alike, trying to keep up with the style of the time. I never understood that, even when I was that age. I return my attention to the window and my steak.

* * ** * ** * ** * *

Bob’s been asking me about my mother and grandmothers, what they were like, the lessons I learned from them. My mother had died in a car accident five years ago, the other two had died long before that.

It hurt a little to think about them, particularly my mom. She was proud of me, loved me but didn’t approve how I lived my life. We weren’t getting along when she died. I’ve always regretted that. But it does feel good to talk about them, all that they did for me. I was embarrassed by how far I had gotten away from what they had tried to teach me. Our conversation was so engrossing that I had let my shrimp scampi get cold. Luckily, I also like it cold. I can always take it home and reheat it anyway. Bob reaches for his cane.

“If you will excuse me Honey, I need to use the restroom.” He brings the cane in close with his left hand and puts his right hand on the table. He pushes himself up but he’s a little unsteady.

“Do you need help? You could lean on my arm.”

“No thank you. I have just been sitting for awhile. I will be fine.” He starts to step away from the table but his chair moves with him. When he turns, he trips over the chair and goes down, hard.

* * ** * ** * ** * *

There is a loud crash, bringing my attention back to the dining room. I look around and see that the man of that unusual couple is on the ground, laying face down across his upturned chair. He probably had too much to drink. The woman is jumping up from her chair to go help him. Maybe now I’ll get a good look at her. She goes down on her knees next to him and looks up, searching the room for help ... NO! ... NO! NO! NO!

* * ** * ** * ** * *

“Are you alright?!” I reach out and grab his waist. “Don’t move! You might make it worse!” He reaches down with both hands, grabs the chair and slowly pushes himself up to his knees. I’m pulling him and turning as he does. Andre comes hurrying to the table, as does our waiter, Sean, I think.

“I am fine” says Bob, holding up both hands. “I just caught me foot on the chair leg and could not get out of the way fast enough. I am sorry for all the fuss.”

Andre reaches out with his right hand and takes Bob’s while I stand and take his left.

“It is not a problem, Sir. Please, allow me to assist you.”

“Thank you.“ Bob pulls himself up, bracing against us. I reach down, pick up his cane and hand it to him.

“Thank you, Honey.” He looks around the room. “I am very sorry for disturbing your meals, I apologize.” There’s a general murmur of acceptances as everyone returns to their food. He lowers his voice. “Once again, if you will excuse me, Honey, I will finish what I started.”

* * ** * ** * ** * *

WHAT IS SHE DOING HERE?! SHE SHOULD BE DANCING NAKED IN FRONT OF HALF-DRUNK IMBECILES OR GETTING WHAT’S LEFT OF HER TINY MIND FUCKED OUT OF THE PRETTY SKULL I GAVE HER!

I start to move towards her before stopping.

This is not the place for a confrontation. I take several calming breaths and return to my table just as Honey sits down, her back to me once again. I keep up the slow steady breathing until my equilibrium returns.

Why is she eating an expensive meal at one of my favorite restaurants instead of performing at Anthony’s? I need to call him right away! It may not even be her, just someone who looks incredibly similar. I reach for my purse, take out my cell phone and begin to call him.

“Pardon me, Dr. Hanson, but we have a no cell phone policy, so the other diners are not disturbed.”

I look up and see Andre standing next to me. “This will only take a second; I am a doctor after all.”

“I understand Madam, but there are no exceptions. You may go to the lobby to make your call, if you wish.”

I clench my jaw and again take a calming breath. I need to think before acting and to think I need information. I return my phone to my purse, grab it and stand up.

“I will be back in a moment.”

“Certainly Doctor, your meal will be waiting.”

I need to get to the lobby but I don’t want Honey to see me, no use making her aware of my presence, at least not yet. I inconspicuously amble along the far wall, keeping my face twisted away from her until I can turn and hurry to the lobby. At the last minute, I see that the man has returned to the table and I pause. He may have seen me, I’m not sure. However, he doesn’t react towards me, sitting down in his chair. I speedily walk the last ten feet and turn the corner, ducking behind the wall, which I then peek around to see if there is any change in their behavior. He seems to be demonstrating how he fell and they appear to be having a big laugh about it.

Taking my phone from the purse, I pull Anthony up on my speed dial and hit “Enter”. It takes a few seconds for the connection to be completed. Some woman answers.

“I need to speak with Anthony immediately, it is extremely important. This is Dr. Amy Hanson.”

“What was that name?”

“Hanson, Doctor Amy Hanson.”

“Sanderson?”

“Hanson. H-A-N-S-O-N.”

“Anthony’s busy, he’s on the floor.”

“I don’t care, go get him right NOW!”

It takes a few minutes for someone to come back on the line. “Hello?”

“Anthony?”

“Yeah?”

“Dr. Hanson. I need to speak with Honey immediately, please bring her to the phone or take a phone to her wherever she is.”

“Well ... uh ... it’s not a good time right now, she dancing.”

“Well, how much longer will she be on stage?”

“At least 15 minutes.”

“I’ll wait.”

“Oh ... well, she’s got some guys waiting to fuck her just as soon as she’s finished. It could be a couple of hours before she’s done.”

“Surely they can keep their dicks in their pants long enough for me to speak with her for just one minute.”

“They’re kind of in a hurry Doc, just traveling through you know?”

“I see ... Anthony, I am going to give you the opportunity to tell me the truth. You will get just one chance at this so do not blow it.”

“Hey! There’s no reason to ...”

“Shut up and listen carefully. I am in the lobby of a restaurant, looking at a girl who could be Honey’s twin eating dinner with a presumptively older man. Now, if you continue to insist that Honey is currently dancing on stage and will be occupied with a long line of customers thereafter, I will be there in less than ten minutes to see for myself. Your choice.”

“OK ... She’s not actually here right now but it’s cool, she’s working with a regular client.”

“And why did you not tell me about this arrangement before now?”

“It’s no big deal; I didn’t want to bother you.”

“I will not discuss this with you over the phone. I will be there in fifteen minutes and you can explain yourself then. And Anthony ... if I catch you lying to me again, heaven help you.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“It seems funny now but I was more worried about you being hurt than anything else.”

“I appreciate your concern Honey but I do know how to fall. Unfortunately, I have been getting too much practice recently, though this was the first time in public in the last year or so. My affliction just makes falls more likely, not more harmful.”

“Well, I don’t mind saying that you scared the hell out of me. Do you want some more coffee?”

“No, two cups are sufficient. Do you want anything else?”

“Uh-uh, that chocolate cheesecake has me about to bust out of this dress.”

“I would not want to cause any more of a disturbance than we already have tonight, even if Andre would likely not object if you came out of your dress.”

“I doubt he would complain.” I raise my hand slightly and waive it in the direction of Sean. He hurries over. “We need our bill please.”

“Was everything satisfactory Sir.”

“Yes quite satisfactory.” Sean turns to me.

“And you Madam?”

“Everything was scrumptious.”

“Very good. I will be back with your bill as quickly as possible.” He hurries away, leaving us to review the remains of our meal.

“You know, I really am stuffed. I never get enough to eat at the club, not that I’d want a lot of that swill.”

“I hope you are not restraining yourself at home.”

“No ... No, I just keep the portion sizes down to a healthy level, though I do a lot of taste testing.”

“A chef’s prerogative, Honey.” He reaches out and pats my hand. “I have no complaints.” I can feel the heat in my cheeks.

Sean returns with our bill in a large, gilded folder. Bob reviews it, adds his usual big tip to the charge slip and hands it along with his card to Sean, who scurries off.

I was always a bit of a big tipper myself, back in the day when I had money. It helped guarantee good service the next time, plus it usually impressed my date. Funny thing, once she stopped being a date and became a girlfriend, at least in her eyes, most women started to object to big tips, particularly if it was a waitress instead of a waiter. I think that they began thinking of it as their money too instead of just my money, plus they didn’t want me spending it on another woman.

Sean returns with Bob’s card and receipt. Bob stands up and offers me his arm. “Shall we go my dear?”

I rise up and take it. “Whatever you say.”

We walk to the front door, not too fast but not too slow either. Bob isn’t leaning on me but I’m ready to act should he slip again. As we cross into the lobby, Andre approaches us.

“Did you have an enjoyable meal?” He didn’t say who the question was for but he was looking directly at me. Bob almost imperceptibly moved the arm I was holding, so I answered.

“Yes, we did, everything was very nice.”

“I do wish to apologize again for that fall, quite clumsy of me” Bob added.

Andre waived both hands dismissively. “Think nothing of it, Sir, accidents happen. I am just glad that you were not injured.”

“Well, it almost frightened me to death.” I decided to go out the way I came in, playing the innocent young girl.

“You recovered beautifully, if I may say so.” He couldn’t come at me hard, not with Bob standing right in front of him, but Andre was going to do his damnedest to make an impression before I left. I dip my head ever so slightly and look up at him through my long eyelashes, eyes wide.

“Thank you” I say barely above a whisper.

“We hope to see you again ... soon.”

“I hope so too” I reply. Bob nods and bows, just as he did when we entered. Andre responds in kind. We turn, me still holding Bob’s arm and walk out the door. As soon as we have turned the corner, Bob cocks his head my way and looks at me out of the corner of his eye.

“You are very good.”

I squeeze his arm. “I know. I should have asked for that tour.”

* * ** * ** * ** * *

I should have known it couldn’t last, the deal was just too damn good. I don’t know what I was thinking, maybe that Hanson wouldn’t find out or maybe that she wouldn’t care once she did. Either way, she knew now. I’ve had a little warning at least but still haven’t thought of a good story to tell.

What’s the big deal anyway? Honey still spends most of her time here. She’s only at Bob’s on the slow nights of the week. She misses maybe ten sets on stage, counting both afternoon and evening, and five tricks, at most. In return I get a thou a week. Where’s the harm? If I sell it like that, Hanson might see the logic. Just then, she walks into the bar, Ice Queen stare turned on high.

Yeah, she’ll see the logic ... when fucking pigs fly. I take a deep breath to get ready and walk over to meet her.

“Hey Doc, what’s...”

“Don’t ‘hey Doc’ me. Where can we speak in private? Some place with a little soundproofing.”

Shit! “There’s always my office, no one will bother us there.”

“Fine.” She marches off, leaving me to follow behind. Oh yeah, this has started real well.

When I get to my office, she’s already gone in and sat down in my chair, forcing me to take one of the smaller ones on the other side of the desk. She’s trying to put me on the defensive but it won’t work. Just as soon as my ass is in the chair, she’s on me.

“What possessed you to let Honey leave this building, unsupervised?” She’s not screaming but you can tell she’d like to, at the top of her lungs. My maw was like that. Best to go with the truth.

“OK. Before you go ballistic or something, here’s the story. This guy, Bob James, came to me and he wanted to rent Honey for a couple of days a week, Tuesdays and Wednesdays, which are the slowest days around here. He offered a thousand dollars a week! That’s two, maybe three times what I make from her on those two days. I checked him out and he was legit so we did it for a three week trial period, to make sure everything was OK. There weren’t any problems, he didn’t beat Honey or hurt her in any way so we’ve been doing it ever since. He’s happy, she’s happy and I’m happy. End of story.”

“And how do you deal with her daily dose of your semen?”

“That was the tough part. I asked you about that but you blew me off ...”

“WHEN DID YOu ask me about this?” She started to loose it there but brought it back under control.

“I asked you about me taking a vacation with some guys and leaving Honey behind. You said there was nothing you could do to help me and wished me good luck in figuring something out on my own. So I figured something out that works great.”

“And what exactly ‘works great’?”

“I jack off once a day, split the ‘deposit’ in half, give one half to Honey and refrigerate or freeze the other half. At the end of the week, I got seven doses in the bank, so to speak. She uses one on Tuesday and one on Wednesday and I’m still five ahead of the game. I got over two weeks in the freezer right now.”

“Quite ingenious, Anthony. I did not think you had it in you.” Yeah bitch, you’re not the only smart one here. “Unfortunately, for you, that is only a short term solution to your problem. The compounds in your semen that Honey needs degrade rapidly. After just four, maybe five days, your little vials would be useless, even if you freeze them. All of this doesn’t matter though; I am pulling the plug on this arrangement. I just hope the damage is not irreversible.”

“What damage? I told you, everybody is happy. Me, her, Bob.”

“Exactly. She is happy, I saw it for myself tonight. What you apparently do not understand is that I did not put her with you so that she could be happy, she is here so that you can make her life MISERABLE! DAY IN, DAY OUT, HOUR BY HOUR, MINUTE BY EXCRUCIATING MINUTE, MISERABLE BEYOND HUMAN ENDURANCE!”

Whoa! Easy there girl! She’s on her feet, hands splayed across the desk, fingers spread, leaning on her arms, face a few feet from my face, screaming at the top of her lungs.

I don’t react. I’ve seen crazy bitches before, maybe not this crazy, but still crazy. You try to argue with a crazy bitch and she just gets crazier. You just gotta let them wind down on their own and then maybe you can talk with them. Hanson’s got a long way to wind down though. Hope she hasn’t got a knife or something cause if she tries that shit, I won’t be so nice. She starts to walk around the room.

“But NO! You had to come up with a way to make a few extra dollars from my pain and suffering! All that was required was that you keep her at the club. She would have been dancing and fucking for decades to come and all the money going straight into your pocket, the perfect set up. But YOU had to try to squeeze the last dollar from the situation! Honey is MINE! She may work for you but she belongs to ME! I decide where she lives, what she does and who she does it with! You didn’t bother to tell me about this because you knew I would say NO! How you could even contemplate letting Honey leave this soul sucking establishment is beyond my comprehension. Why did you think that this would ever be tolerated by me?”

“It wasn’t my idea you know. James came to me, I didn’t go after him.”

“Yes ... yes, let’s talk about Mr. James. Who is he, what does he really want? More importantly, what does he know about Honey? I assume that you remember that her origin is a closely guarded secret. It’s one thing to give your mouth breathing, moronic clients regular, supervised access to her but an entirely different matter to give someone I know absolutely nothing about 48 hours a week unsupervised contact with her. How long has this been going on?”

“Seven weeks or so.”

“That’s three hundred thirty six hours, more than any one other than you or Baker or myself has spent with her since she was transformed.”

“Truth be told, it’s more like sixty hours, Monday night to Thursday morning.”

“Wonderful! Four hundred twenty hours. Better and better. He’s now second only to you. And how, pray tell, does he spend this time with her?”

“That’s the really weird part. He’s not fucking her, best I can tell. She just does cooking, cleaning, household crap.”

“So you’re telling me that for the past seven weeks, Honey has spent two and a half days each week living a normal, average life with a man we know nothing about.”

“I’m not stupid, you know ...”

“That’s yet to be proven.”

I let that slide for now. “I had him checked out before she ever met him. He’s retired, a salesman, sold shoes to big stores.”

“How old is he?”

“Forty eight, fifty, something like that.”

“A little young to be retired, don’t you think?”

“Maybe, but he’s got some kinda medical problem. I’ve seen him use a cane to get around.”

“What kind of medical problem?”

“How should I know, you’re the doctor.”

“That is my point Anthony, you know very little about him beyond the most basic information. He is using Honey to perform services that could be had for much less cost and better performed by a professional. There are too many unanswered questions that you never bothered to ask because you were blinded by the money! My guess is that Mr. James did this intentionally. When the payment is large enough, it suppresses in-depth investigation.”

“Why would he do that?”

“I do not know but I intend to find out ... very quickly.”

“How you gonna do that?”

She walks back over to my chair and sits down. “Simple, I’ll ask Honey.”

“What if she doesn’t want to talk?” An evil grin slowly slithers across her face.

“Oh, she will talk. I have wanted to try this for some time but could never come up with a good reason beyond my own curiosity. I couldn’t justify it because of the potential harm, possibly irreparable, but I believe the time has come to push Honey a bit.”

* * ** * ** * ** * *

“Do you want to finish the evening with a swim?” Bob asks as we walk into the kitchen from the garage.

“No thanks, I still feel stuffed. I’m just going to change into something more comfortable and watch whatever on TV, maybe a movie if nothing else is on. I’ll probably fall asleep.”

“Start without me. I need to check my email and do a bit of research before joining you.”

“OK” I reply as I head to my room. “Don’t take to long or you’ll have to wake me.”

I close the door behind me and kick off my shoes. They were only 3” heels but I’m glad to be rid of them. I lift my hair from my back, undo the halter strap, reach back and first unhook then unzip the dress.

“Oooohhhh yes” I sigh. That feels so good. I wriggle out, letting it fall to my feet. The things we go through to look good for men. Of course, the dress wasn’t so tight before I ate that big meal. Still, it had been a fun evening. None of my tricks actually worked on Bob, though I’m sure I caught him staring now and then. That SOB seems to know exactly what I’m doing. Either he’s too damn smart or I’m too damn obvious. Messing with Andre and Sean was some consolation. They both were handsome and Sean seemed to be packing an impressive bulge. I reach around my back and unhook my strapless bra, letting it fall to the floor as I rub my tits, starting with the sides and gradually working towards the nipples.

“MMMmmmmm ooohhhuuuu” I groan, rolling both nipples between index fingers and thumbs as I imagine how big Sean might actually be. My right hand releases my nipple and slides down my tummy, under the elastic top of my panty, cupping my cunt while I diddle my clit with my index finger. My eyes close and my breathing slows as I start to surrender to the delicious feelings. Backing up until my ass contacts my bed; I slide up the bed as I pull my panties off and spread my legs, giving me better access to my warming pussy. My left hand alternates between the nipples and aureoles of both boobs while I tug and rub my clit with my right.

I haven’t taken my daily dose of Anthony’s jiz yet but I really don’t care right now. There are some advantages to my addiction and this is one of them. For a few hours every day, my body is so sensitive, so responsive, that I can get orgasm after orgasm without much effort. Just a little stimulation and fantasizing about cocks and I can have as many orgasms as I can stand. This is usually when Anthony has got guys lined up to fuck me, and God help me, I actually have started to look forward to it. As long as they aren’t too abusive and they don’t insist on a lot of oral stuff, I can normally get off and make them pretty damn happy at the same time. Unfortunately, I can’t take advantage of it now. It would just be too embarrassing for Bob to see me like that.

Reluctantly, I stop masturbating, roll to the side of my bed, reach into my lingerie drawer and pull out a red, silk chemise. I sit up and slip the chemise over my head. It falls to my waist, then down to my thighs when I stand up and hurry to the kitchen. The feeling of my erect nipples rubbing against the silk as my tits bounce around starts the whole arousal cycle again. I reach the fridge, throw open the door and search for the vial holding Anthony’s semen.

I don’t see it! It should be right next to the butter tray but it’s not there. The cold air flowing from the fridge isn’t helping my already stiff nipples.

I reach into the shelf on the fridge door and start to move bottles around, searching for the vial. When I pick up the ketchup bottle, I hear something else move on the shelf. Reaching in with my left hand, my fingers make contact with the vial. It had fallen over and rolled to the back of the shelf. I drag it towards the front where I can get a better grip in it, pick it up and twist the cap off. Lucky for me, it hadn’t spilled. There’s just barely enough in there to do the job as it is. I tilt my head back, pour the contents down my throat, then clamp my lips around the bottle, sucking and swallowing and finally running my tongue inside the glass to get the last drop. Sitting down on the nearest chair, eyes closed and head slumped forward, I wait for the semen to take effect. It only takes a few minutes but it feels twice as long, my cunt practically pulsing, demanding to be touched, caressed, penetrated. The older the semen, the less effective it is in quenching my need for sex. This dose takes longer than usual and I’m still just a little buzzed when I stand up. I run my hands down my body, smoothing the silk, as I walk back to the living room and plop down on the couch, legs tucked underneath me. I take a deep breath and slowly exhale to clear my head, then grab the remote and turn on the TV. Rolling through the channels, I quickly rediscover that it’s mostly crap. Infomercials, Judge Judy and her imitators, screaming political shows, Fox News. Fair and balanced my ass! I finally settle on a cooking show about how to use late summer vegetables.

Bob pretty much lets me fix what I want in the way of meals, never complains and often compliments me on how good the food is. I don’t know if he really likes it or he’s just being polite. Sometimes he makes a request, which is actually an order, but he always phrases it as a request. It’s usually basic stuff, meat and potatoes food. I’m not sure how he’d handle a vegetarian meal but this squash and tomato stir fry looks pretty good. I’ll have to remember to ask him to print out the recipes from their website. I reach over to the end of the couch, grab a big throw pillow and lay down on it, cuddling it in my arms, head still turned towards the TV.

I’ve haven’t given it much thought, but Bob treats me really well. He knows the truth about me, but didn’t freak out. He’s still working on a way to help me escape from Hanson. I can wear what I want and buy it if I don’t have it, if I keep it reasonable. The work I do around here is pretty easy and he helps when he can, which unfortunately has been less often the last couple of weeks. I hope he’s OK, and not just for my sake. He’s a nice guy ... a very nice guy. I wish we could do ... more things together. I’m sure he’d enjoy it; I’d make sure he did. The cooking and the cleaning just doesn’t seem to be enough thanks for all he’s done for me. I close my eyes, just to rest them for a moment.

I wake up as my body is jostled. There’s a different show on TV. Bob is sitting near my head, dressed in his pajamas. I pull myself towards him and rest my head in his lap. He caresses my hair and then gently rubs my back.

“How long was I out?” I murmur.

“Not sure, I just got here. Sorry for waking you.”

I snuggle closer. “No problem.”

We stay like this for several minutes, my head on its right side in his lap while he alternately stokes my hair and rubs my back, both of us staring at the TV but our minds are elsewhere.

“Bob?”

“Yes, Honey?”

“Remind me, why aren’t we having sex right now?” His hand stops moving against the small of my back.

“What brought this on?”

“Well ... I like you and I think that you like me ... you do don’t you?”

He starts to rub my back again. “Yes Honey, I do like you, quite a lot in fact.”

“Good. Anyway, I’m very good at what I do...”

“You are an excellent cook.”

“That’s not what I mean, silly. We both know that I’m a good ... uh ...”

“Date?”

I can’t keep from giggling. “Yes, I’m a very good date. Guys pay good money to date me and they have no complaints when our ... date is finished. If I’m in the right mood, I can date a guy’s brains out, date him until he begs me to stop, date him so long and hard that ...”

“I get the picture. We have spoken about this before, Honey and there have been no changes since then. Why bring it up again?”

“I was just thinking that I could show you my appreciation for all that you’ve done for me.”

“That is hardly necessary Honey. I have not actually done anything yet.”

“Yes you have! The time away from the club, the normal clothes, the food ...”

“Which you prepare.”

“But you buy it.”

“For both of us.”

“OK, but I benefit from it.”

“So do I.”

“Will you stop being difficult! I’m trying to tell you what a nice person you are and how much I want to ... date you and you’re arguing with me.”

“That is because I am not a nice person Honey.”

“What are you talking about, you’re the nicest person I know ... at least one of the nicest.”

“You only know one side of me, Honey, there are other sides, much less pleasant sides. I hope you never meet them, for both our sakes.”

“Fine. But why can’t the side that’s massaging my back and me have a little fun ... It’s because I was a guy, isn’t it?”

“Hardly. As far as I am concerned, you are an attractive, beautiful, young woman. Every man in the restaurant tonight would swear to that, as would Andre and Sean, despite your teasing them this evening.”

“You saw that?”

“How could I not?”

“You ... didn’t try to stop me.”

“I was enjoying it too much. A little playful flirting is good for a young woman, particularly for you. I was happy to see some normal behavior from you.”

“What’s normal for me?”

“I suppose that is for you to decide. As for you and I, our situation has not changed. I appreciate the offer, more than you can know, but I feel that it is best not to add a physical relationship at this time. However, that may change in the future and, to be honest about it, I hope it does.”

“Well” I sigh, “Guess we’ll just have to see how things work out won’t we?”

“I guess so.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Hanson doesn’t trust me. Maybe she just doesn’t think I can pull it off. Either way, she won’t tell me what she’s got planned.

“Just do what you normally do, Anthony. Pick Honey up and bring her back to the club” she said. “Keep everything normal until she starts to feel the need to feed on your seed.”

Wonder how long she’s been waiting to use that line.

“You can let whoever you want fuck her tonight but you are not to get anywhere near her, no sex of any kind, is that clear?”

Of course it was clear, I’m not some kind of sex maniac, I can control myself, besides, it’s not like I haven’t fucked her hundreds of times before ... God, it has been hundreds, actually closer to a thousand times. No wonder I’m tired of seeing that face, nice as it is.

“Once she starts to get anxious, call me at the clinic and then bring her straight here. I’ll let you in the back. Plan on staying awhile.”

That’s all she’d tell me. I asked several times what she was going to do but she refused to say any more, though she did have a big, shit eating grin on her face and a nasty glint in her eyes. I got a feeling Honey is in for a rough time tonight. Pulling up to Bob’s house, I park in the driveway, walk to the front door and ring the doorbell. Bob’s there in just a few seconds.

“Good morning Anthony, how are you today?” He’s using his cane again.

“Fine Bob, fine. Yourself?” He jiggles his right hand, which holds the cane.

“Not as well as I would like but having Honey here makes things easier.” He turns back towards the living room. “Honey!” he shouts. “Your ride is here!”

“Yes, Sir!” she shouts back. “I’m buckling my shoes.”

Five seconds later, she comes trotting around the corner, dressed in the same lime green dress I dropped her off in. It’s tight, short, and puts her big tits on display, just as I like it. Doesn’t spark my motor at all. She’s a damn fine looking bitch but she’s the same fine looking bitch I’ve been fucking practically every damn day for more than three years. Guess it is possible to have too much of a good thing. I smack her ass as she scurries by me.

“Time’s money babe, get a move on.”

“Yes, Sir.” She keeps moving towards my car, her fine ass swinging with each step. Still nothing. It’s a shame, that’s what it is.

“Anthony, could I speak with you for a moment” asks Bob. I turn my head towards him.

“Sure Bob, what is it?”

He reaches up with his left arm, putting it around my shoulder, pulling me closer. “I believe that Honey’s medication is not as effective as it once was” he says in a low voice. “She seems to be ... agitated after her recent treatments.”

“Has she said something? She giving you trouble?”

“Not at all. It is just my observation. I only bring it up so that you might mention it to her physician the next time you speak with him.”

I can’t keep from grinning at him. “What a coincidence. I should be talking with her later today. I’ll tell her about it.”

He pats my shoulder and lets me go. “That is up to you, I just thought that I should mention it. I will see you next week. Have a good day.”

“You too Bob.” He shuts the door and I turn to my car. Honey is already sitting in the seat, hands in her lap, eyes fixed on me, a blank look on her face. Looks like she’s doing her best not to piss me off. Smart bitch. Probably won’t help her with Hanson though. I slide into the car and shut the door.

“Ready to go home Honey?” She winces slightly when I say that.

“Yes, Sir.”

I start the car and head back towards the club. Honey reaches up with her left hand and rubs her eye. I think she was wiping away a tear. Probably won’t be her last today.

* * ** * ** * ** * *

I just finished getting Honey’s room the way I want it when my cell phone buzzes. I always keep it on vibrate. A ringing cell phone puts my teeth on edge. I check the Caller ID. It’s Anthony.

“Yes, Anthony.”

“We’re back at the club. She should be ready around midnight.”

“I’ll be here when you arrive.”

“How horny does she have to be for this to work?”

“It doesn’t really matter that much, it is just a question of time.”

“Well how long will it take?”

“With any luck, she will be tougher than I think she is and it will take hours.”

“Why would that be a good thing?”

“Because I plan on enjoying this, that’s why?”

“What excuse do I give her for this trip?”

“Just tell her that I want to see her, that should be adequate, or tell her nothing, just get her here.”

* * ** * ** * ** * *

“The Doc wants to see you tonight, says it’s important. Get dressed and meet me by the back door in five minutes.”

Anthony shuts the door and I hear his footsteps fade away as he walks down the hallway. The last guy had just left after a pretty quick fuck, which would normally be disappointing, but I’m in the hot zone right now so it doesn’t take much to ring my bell. Haven’t had my dose of Anthony’s sperm yet but maybe he’ll give it to me before we leave. Yesterday’s bottle barely did the job. My pussy was actually leaking during the last set on stage before the “personal performances” started. A wet cunt on display to fourteen guys is so embarrassing. It also makes them more eager to see me after the set.

I quickly wipe down with a wet wash cloth, then some baby wipes. There’s not enough time for a bath but I do put on clean underwear before squeezing into a white crop top and red miniskirt. After a short makeup touch up, I slip my feet into a pair of heels, grab my purse and dash to the back door. Anthony’s already there. It’s only taken me four minutes but he’s not happy.

“I told you to hurry Bitch!”

“Yes, Sir, sorry Sir.”

There’s no use arguing with him, he’d just smack me across the face. Not enough to bruise but more than enough to hurt like hell. Don’t want to damage the merchandise. He’s got a real skill with those slaps. Even though he’s pissed, I’d like to get today’s semen before we get to Hanson’s. I’m already having trouble keeping my hands away from my clit as it is. If this takes more than an hour, I’ll be masturbating in front of her, which she’d love despite complaining about my unlady-like behavior. Here goes nothing.

“Should I have my treatment before we leave, Sir?” He stares down at me, stepping closer. I start to tense up, waiting for the pain.

“If you can give me a 15 second blow job, sure. Otherwise, get your ass in the car.”

Well, that could have been worse but it could have been better too. No jiz means a pretty uncomfortable visit with Hanson. I step out the door and hustle to the car. Anthony’s right behind me. I just get my seatbelt fastened as he floors it and we charge down the street. I wonder what the hurry is. I haven’t officially seen Hanson for weeks, though she’s been to the club several times and watched me dance. The way she looks at me makes me think she’s seen some of my private performances too. I don’t know how, but it’s just a feeling I get now and then that someone is watching me in my room while I’m being fucked or sucking some guy off, particularly if it’s one of the bad ones with those little cards they give Anthony.

In all the time I’ve been under her thumb, I’ve learned that no matter what it is, Hanson’s always a step ahead of me, I’ve given up trying to guess what she wants, I just try to roll with it when it happens, keep her from blowing her stack.

When we reach the Clinic, I notice that even in the dark, it seems bigger. She must have put an addition on it, paid for by Wrangler money no doubt. There’s only one light on in the building that I can see, along with the lights in the parking lot in the back. Anthony drives around to the back and stops near the door. As we get out, the door opens and Hanson steps out.

“Anthony, I am glad that you were able to get here so quickly. And Honey, how are you this evening?”

“I’m fine Dr. Hanson.”

I keep my head down slightly, not looking her in the eyes but not staring at the ground either. I don’t want to appear to be challenging her but I can’t bring myself to voluntarily be too submissive. Of course, if she tells me to, I’m not dumb enough to fight her about it. Just answer her questions and shut up. Volunteer nothing and do what I’m told, maybe then I can get back to the club and a few hours of rest. I don’t get much sleep any more, I’ve gotten used to my bed at Bob’s, which puts the bag of doorknobs I try to sleep on at the club to shame.

“I’m happy to hear that Honey. This should not take too long. Please come in.”

She’s almost always polite because she knows she doesn’t have to be ... and she knows that I know it too. Sometimes I wish she’d just get down to business and skip the dance. I step through the door with Anthony right behind me. Hanson follows us as I hear the lock click into place. She briskly walks past us.

“Follow me please.”

She walks quickly down the hall. Anthony gives me a boost from behind and I stumble after her. The hallway is familiar. I think we are heading towards my usual room, which is more like a cell. The walls aren’t stone and there are no bars but there are also no windows and I’m always locked in unless there are treatments or training. We pass labs that appear to be larger and better equipped than the last time I was here. What is the expansion for? More research?

Even today, I don’t know exactly how Hanson did what she did to me. I know that she changed my DNA but not how she did it. It doesn’t matter, I probably wouldn’t understand it anyway, I’m not very smart.

We turn a corner and Hanson walks into my cell. When I walk in, I see that there’s been an addition. It’s a heavy chair with straps on the arms and legs along with some kind of machine with a bunch of wires and sensor pads. Anthony doesn’t come into the room, he stops at the doorway, blocking it.

No way is this good news. Hanson sits on the cot and gestures towards the chair with her right hand.

“Honey, take off all your clothes and sit down in the chair.” I hesitate for a moment, glancing at Anthony but he says nothing. “Come now Honey, be a good girl and do what I say or there will be consequences” says Hanson. It’s clear that I don’t have a choice so I step out of my shoes, pull the top over my head, wriggle out of the skirt and panties and finally remove my bra, leaving all the clothes on the floor.

“Very nice” says Hanson, running her tongue quickly across her lips. “Now have a seat. Put your arms on the armrests.”

I sit down, my arms resting on the armrest and my legs in front of the chair legs. Hanson stands up, strides over to the chair and proceeds to strap me in. Tightly. All the while she’s tunelessly humming; at least I don’t recognize the song. It’s no use me asking why she’s doing this so I don’t bother, just try to mentally prepare for whatever happens next. She shakes each arm and leg to make sure they are not going to move, then walks around behind me and wraps another strap across my chest, just below my boobs, and pulls it tight, forcing me to grunt.

“That’s not too tight, is it Honey?”

“No Dr. Hanson.”

“Good, I want you able to breath.” She starts to attach the sensor pads to various parts of my body. They are about 1” around, flexible and sticky. They stay wherever she puts them, my forehead, forearms, thighs, and my stomach just above my pussy. After she applied that last one, she ran her index finger up my cunt lips, causing me to shiver. She sniffs her finger and then wipes it in my hair.

“We are going to have a conversation, Honey ... well, I will be asking you questions and you will be telling me the truth. If you do not, I will know, thanks to this new technology. I wanted to wait until you were in the proper ... mood. I would guess that you and Anthony have not had sex in the last twenty four hours or so, is that correct?”

“Yes Dr. Hanson, it’s been more than a week.”

“A week? ... Oh I forgot, Anthony’s little trick with the vials. Let me rephrase my question. Have you had any of his semen in the last twenty four hours?”

“No Dr. Hanson.”

“Are you beginning to feel in need of his sperm?”

“I’m fine Dr. Hanson.” I’m not fine but I don’t want her to know it.

She reaches around behind me. I lose sight of her hand because I can’t turn my head far enough, strapped in as I am. Her hand comes back into view, clutching a thin latex examination glove. She slips it onto her right hand, reaches down between my legs and starts to massage my pussy, paying particular attention to my clit. This goes on for a minute or so, I lose track of time because I am lost in the wonderful sensations, sighing and gasping as she probes my cunt with her fingers. Suddenly the sensations stop and she brings her hand in front of my face. I can see that the glove is wet with my juices and it smells strongly of my musky odor. She wipes her hand again on my hair and I hear the glove snap as she removes it from her hand.

“I believe that your own pussy is calling you a liar Honey, along with my machine. I will leave you alone for awhile to contemplate what will happen should you lie to me again. And keep this in mind.” She walks towards the door and Anthony steps back, letting her leave. She stops and looks back at me over her shoulder. “You will not receive one drop of Anthony’s semen until I am sure that I have heard the truth. Remember what it was like when you first escaped from this clinic and were forced to call me because of your cravings. The transformation process was not complete at that time so the effects were some what muted. It should be much worse now.”

She turns back around and Anthony slams the door shut, leaving me alone, the dim light from the display of the machine making everything look dark gray instead of black.

* * ** * ** * ** * *

Hanson walks back to her office and I follow. She goes in and sits behind her desk. I take a seat on the couch. She shuffles through some papers then starts to type something on the computer, ignoring me completely.

“So what now?” I ask. She looks up like she’s surprised that I said something.

“We wait, of course, Anthony.”

“For what?”

“For Honey to become sufficiently desperate for your semen to truthfully answer any question that I may ask her.”

“Why not let me smack her around a bit. That’s always worked in the past.”

She frowns at that. “How crude. That may be the way you operate Anthony but I believe in a more refined, logical approach. Honey’s body is already crying out for your semen. Her need will only grow over time. Eventually she will not be able to stand it, particularly since she is unable to masturbate to relieve the cravings. I expect that she will be quite accommodating in an hour or so, perhaps sooner.” She sighs and turns away from her keyboard. “Frankly, I was hoping that she would put up a fight. I am curious as to how strong her hunger would become. If she resists, there could be actual physical damage, though likely not too bad ... certainly nothing I could not repair.”

“Why wait. Give me ten minutes and we can all go home.”

She shakes her head. “Sometimes your lack of foresight astounds me. This is an opportunity to further break her spirit. When she capitulates, it will be because her will could not stand up to the demands of her body. It will be all internal, no external force compelled her to answer my questions, there will be no ‘villain’, if you will, for her to blame, only her own weakness. That is a much more crushing defeat because it is difficult to escape from yourself.”

“You don’t think she’ll blame you for this?”

“Certainly, in the big picture but this particular failure should be all hers. Even if she does manage to blame me, it is no worse than you beating the answers out of her and becoming the focus of responsibility, plus if the discomfort is as bad as I believe it will be, the knowledge that the conditions can be recreated in less than a day should keep any future problems with Ms. Sweet-Lay to a minimum. In all respects, my approach is superior to your application of brute force.”

Except I know mine works and quick. Who cares about what will happen in the future? My big right hand will always be there to keep Honey in line. Eggheads get on my nerves sometimes. Still, it ain’t worth it to get in a fight about it now. I’ll let Hanson have her chance. I can always mess Honey up later if it doesn’t work.

“So what am I supposed to do while we wait?”

“I am sorry Anthony. We do not subscribe to ‘Juggs and Ammo’ so there is nothing around here for you to read. Perhaps you can find something to eat in the kitchen. It’s to your left three doors and then right.” She returned to her typing with a smug smile on her face. God, what a bitch!

* * ** * ** * ** * *

It’s been almost ninety minutes since we left Honey alone. I wanted to check on her but Hanson insisted she be left alone. “Let her pussy argue with her” she said, whatever the hell that means. I think that she just wanted to prolong Honey’s suffering. Either way, we’re back at the room, ready to ask questions. Hanson opens the door and hits the light switch. Honey’s covered with sweat, her head hanging down on her chest and her skin is red wherever there’s a strap so she’s been struggling. One of the sensors fell off so Hanson reattaches it. Honey looks up, breathing hard.

“Are you ready to tell me the truth?” asks Hanson. Honey swallows hard and nods. It’s not good enough for the Doc.

“Speak up Honey, I didn’t hear you.”

Honey takes another big breath. “Yes, Dr. Hanson.”

“Excellent. I already know a great deal, Anthony filled me in on his role in this disaster. What I need to know is what went on between you and Mr. James.”

“I did whatever he told me to do. Anthony said keep him happy, so I did.”

“Admirable. Your services did not include sexual favors, is that correct?”

“Yes ... correct.”

“Why not?”

“He wasn’t interested.”

“Didn’t that strike you as odd? I feel a bit insulted. I go to all the trouble to create a beautiful, sexy nymphomaniac and he does not use her as I intended. What did you do for him?”

“Shop, clean, cook ...”

“Where did you learn to cook?”

“College.”

“You are clearly a credit to your alma mater. I saw you at a local restaurant wearing this wonderful dress a few days ago.” Honey’s head jerks up. “Yes, that is how I discovered this fiasco. Who chose your clothes?”

“I did.”

“Who paid?”

“He did. He told me to buy what I wanted, not what you or Anthony bought for me. He said they needed to be practical, work clothes.”

“That dress didn’t appear to be work clothes.”

“Restaurant had a dress code.”

Honey appears to be getting worse. Her legs are beginning to tremble and shake. None of the stuff the Doc is asking about is worth all this trouble. I think she notices Honey’s symptoms.

“How are you feeling Honey?”

“Terrible.”

“Describe it.”

“I’m on fire. There’s an agonizing, burning itch deep inside me that I can’t scratch and it’s driving me crazy! Please ... let me have Anthony’s semen!”

“Since you are so desperate, I’ll cut to the big question. Does Bob James know the truth about you?”

Honey looks at me, then Hanson. “What truth?”

“That you were once a man, if you could call Josh Thomas a man.”

“No, he doesn’t know.”

Hanson leans back and looks at a couple of dials on the machine next to Honey, then stands up. “Sorry Honey, that doesn’t appear to be the truth. I guess we will resume this interview later.”

“No, please! He doesn’t know anything! I was just doing what Anthony told me to do. I’ve done nothing wrong!! Please ...” Hanson walks out the door.

“Come along Anthony.”

I switch off the light and close the door. The pleading look in Honey’s eyes as the door shut will stay with me for awhile.

* * ** * ** * ** * *

She’s smiling when we get back to her office. She even slaps my arm in joy.

“Wonderful! Honey is going to put up a fight! I could not have hoped for more!”

“What’s so damn good about that?”

“She can not possibly resist her biology. Her eventual surrender will be all the more devastating the longer she fights. My little toy still has a bit of a backbone. Best to break it now before more trouble develops, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know what to think. How do you know she’s not telling the truth about Bob?”

“Oh, she’s not but she will. I just hope it’s not too soon. I still have a couple of things I’d like to try before she cracks. We best not give her more than ten minutes this time. I don’t want her passing out.” She stands up. “I need to go to the bathroom and freshen up a bit. When I get back, we’ll go visit Honey again.”

* * ** * ** * ** * *

She’s in worse shape this time. Both legs are all jumpy, like the muscles are out of control. Her breathing is more erratic and she’s sweatier, if that is possible. She’s started to bleed where the straps are rubbing against her skin. Hanson’s brought a big beaker of ice water with her and she throws the water in Honey’s face. She sucks in her breath and her eyes go wide, like she’s in shock. For a second, I thought she was having a heart attack but then she started breathing again, closer to normal. Her legs stopped jumping too. I think the cold water helped, at least for a short time. Hanson asked again if Bob knew the truth about Honey and she said no, that he knew nothing. She asked some other questions about Bob, where he came from, what he did for a living, background stuff that I didn’t know. Apparently, Honey didn’t either. I thought she was telling the truth but Hanson said she was lying again so we left. Honey didn’t beg this time, just moaned.

“Is she going to be OK?” I ask.

“Probably” Hanson replies. “I was a little surprised she did not break that time but thank God for small favors, right?”

“Uh ... yeah ... right.”

Hanson is into this way too much. She’s getting off big time on Honey’s suffering. I got no problem with inflicting pain for a purpose but pain for pains sake is weird shit. I’m afraid if this goes on much longer, I’m gonna have to get rid of a body.

“Look Doc, we have to finish this and now. Honey’s in bad shape. I’m not a doctor and I don’t know what that machine is telling you but if this doesn’t end soon, she’s gonna die!”

“I am afraid that I agree with you Anthony. Her condition is deteriorating faster than I anticipated. If she doesn’t break soon, she will likely become unconscious, which puts an end to my questions. We would have to start all over again tomorrow.”

“What?”

“She can not be permitted to win Anthony, surely you can see that. Once we started down this road, there could be only one outcome, her surrender. Anything less will make the relationship between us and Honey intolerable. I will do this as many days as it takes. As for the machine, it tells me nothing. I just set it up to look impressive and persuade Honey that there was empirical evidence that she was lying. Let’s try again.” She opens the door before I can say anything.

Hanson’s just going on her gut that Honey is lying, she could be totally telling the truth and all of this is a waste of time! I don’t care what Hanson says, this is it! As the light streams into the room from the hallway, it’s clear that the chair has fallen over on its’ side. I hurry in as Hanson hits the lights. I pull the chair upright, Honey appears unconscious, head slumped to the side, eyes closed, arms and legs jerking.

“Help me get her out of this!” I shout.

“Wait just a moment Anthony.” Hanson reaches into her pocket and pulls out a vibrator. She switches it on and sets it on high, its buzzing sound filing the room. She takes it and starts rubbing Honey’s pussy with it. In seconds her head lifts and eyes open. She starts to make this moan/cry/yelping sound that I can’t tell if it’s pleasure, pain or both. She may have had an orgasm, hard to tell with all the extra muscle spasms in her arms and legs. Whatever happened, she seems to be awake again. Hanson gets down in her face.

“Does Bob James know the truth?”

“He ... knows ... nothing” she croaks.

“We will see you in an hour.”

Hanson turns to leave. I reach out and grab her arm. One way or another, she’s ending this right now. I open my mouth to say something but Honey beats me to the punch. With tears flowing down her cheeks, she struggles to talk.

“Bob ... knows ... everything.”

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