I would like to thank Anyport for his permission to write this sequel to his story, The Transformation, and use the characters he created. I would like to thank Tigger for allowing me to include a guest appearance by his character, "Aunt" Jane Thompson. I would especially like to thank Steve Zink for editing such a very long story for me.

This story was written to stand on its own. If you would like to read Anyport's story first; it's available both at Fictionmania and StorySite.

While there is some strong language in this story, there are no explicit sex scenes and all the characters are adults. However, if you are under eighteen or offended by transgendered material, don't read this story. This story may be posted on any free site.

 

I'm Baaack!

by Jezzi Belle Stewart
©2002 Turn Right Productions

 

Part 4

 

Chapter 19: Give The Lady What She Wants

Now Rose upped her sincerity level. "I want that kind of friendship with you, Joan! I believe we are kindred spirits. If two manipulative bitches like us CAN be friends, I think we should be. I did this little scenario today as a show of skill, inclination, and sincerity. Could I do to other men what I did to Adain without love involved, simply for money? I don't know, but I do know I have a lot to be thankful to you for. What do you say, can we try?" 'There it is, on the table. Come on, Joan, pick up the ball and run with it!'

Joan thought for a minute. It was soooo tempting. She had liked Rose as a person right from their first meeting, although she had not let it interfere with business. And this new side of her! It was like looking at a younger sister - if it was real. She really wanted it to be real; she was psychiatrist enough to recognize that there was a void in her own life. Bitches like her didn't make friends; you either ruled or you served, and she had made sure she was the ruler! She didn't think she could get along with someone exactly like herself for long; an eventual power struggle was a certainty. But Rose, Rose, while apparently so like her, had a difference. Rose had a heart. Maybe they could work together. She had often thought that her total bitchiness made too many enemies, generated too many chances of getting caught in what, after all, were highly illegal activities. Maybe it was time she got a heart, even if it was an external one; maybe it was time to follow the Yellow Brick Road. Yes, Rose's offer of friendship was soooo very, very tempting. She WANTED a friend, badly wanted one, she realized. But was Rose for real? That was the question. Instead of answering Rose's question, she asked one of her own. "What do you REALLY want, Rose?"

Rose smiled thinly. "I didn't think it would be easy. Okay, Joan, you're right. I have some things I need your help with, and I'm not asking for that help for free. I can pay whatever you choose to charge, but since one of them has to do intimately with me, I'd like your friendship ahead of time, and money can't buy that."

Joan indicated she was listening.

Rose seemed to take a different tack. "You know, it's probably a good thing that I have Dainie now instead of Adain."

Joan raised her eyebrows in question.

"Adain was gay. When Ross was still a possibility, using his parts for gay shemale sex with Adain was acceptable, actually quite pleasurable; Adain was a tender and caring lover, and our pleasure was mutual. I had and have no regrets. As time passed, Ross was a fading memory, but so was Adain. Still, I had become quite happy with my situation and determined to stay in it. Then an accident occurred, and while I was being rushed to the nearest hospital, wherever that may have been, a bridge collapsed under the car and I was plunged into a river. When Ross - Yes, Ross, the shock had put him back in the driver's seat - came to, he was in a hospital in Istanbul. I'll tell you all the details later, but the upshot is that HE wanted HIS life back. I thought he deserved the chance, so I acquiesced. For the last year or so, up till last month, he was attempting to do just that, reclaim his life. He failed."

Rose got up and began to pace. "One day back in May, he looked in the mirror and finally had to admit that it was HERself that SHE saw. He turned everything over to me. Ross is 98% gone mentally. I have his memories, and there's a little of him left. It's sort of like Dainie; in an emergency, I can call up Adain, and in an emergency, I can call up Ross if I need a shot of mental testosterone. But for the most part, mentally, as I say, he's gone. UNFORTUNATELY," Rose blushed, "physically, he's still embarrassingly present, although unworking."

Rose took a deep breath and looked down into Joan's eyes. "Joan, I want SRS. I want it as soon as possible, and I want you to do it!" She sighed, and her shoulders slumped a little. She sat back down. "And Adain wouldn't like that; Dainie doesn't care."

"ME!??" Joan had not expected this.

Rose shrugged her shoulders. "You're the best. Everyone says so." She gripped Joan's arms. "I want the orgasms your other patients rave about from 'Dr. Adkin's vagina'. I want SRS, and I want it done right!" There, it was out. When she had told The Group this, they had objected strongly. Only the fact that Robbie would be there as a double agent to protect her had convinced them to go along.

Joan nodded. She would hardly argue with such a glowing assessment of her skills. Just as she had, she believed, no false pride, she had no false modesty. She faced Rose. "You said 'things', 'some things', plural. What ELSE do you want, Rose?"

Rose opened the floodgates, and let her real emotions loose. "What else do I want? WHAT FUCKING ELSE DO I WANT!? I WANT THE HEADS OF THOSE TWO FUCKING BITCHES LOU AND ED ON A PLATTER, THAT'S WHAT THE FUCK I WANT!"

"You're hurting me, Rose," Joan said soothingly to the red faced ugly evil looking Rose who was now gripping her arms. "You told me you have them," she continued in her soothing professional voice, as she peeled Rose's fingers one by one from around her arms. "I assume you were not actually suggesting decapitating them, and yet you want a surgeon's help, my help; what do you have in mind, Rose?"

Rose's breathing was still a little ragged, but Joan could tell she was forcibly bringing herself back under control. When she again began to speak, there was a look of hatred and pure evil on her face. In a dejavu flashback, Joan realized it was the same look that had been on her much younger face as she had finalized her plans for the vermin who had raped her.

"I want them sold, Joan. I want each of them to spend the rest of their lives as a slave to one of your 'special' clients. Not together, separate. Tucked away in separate harems, deep in some Middle East sand trap...like I was!" She brought her fist down hard toward the surface of the coffee table, and Joan was able to deflect it to the couch cushions just in the nick of time. Rose wasn't done. "And I don't want someone nice, like Adain. I want the two nastiest creeps you can come up with, except I don't want killers - humiliators, degraders, yes, but not killers. I want those two to stay alive, I even want them living physically in luxury, but I want them birds in a gilded cage!" She slumped back into the couch in exhaustion.

'WOW!' thought Joan. 'And people think I'M a bitch!' "One problem, Rose", she began. "My clients are 'special' clients, as you know. They only like...oh. OH! OHMYGAWD!" In a burst, Joan saw exactly what Rose was contemplating, what she wanted of her. "Here it is, honey," she mimed taking a badge off her blouse, "the #1 BITCH badge. You are evil, girl!" The last was said with grudging admiration. "Let me see if I've guessed right. You want me to do female to male SRS on them, turn them into shemales."

"Yes. YES!" exclaimed Rose, with growing excitement. "And breast reduction. I want a boy's chest with girl's nipples. Don't do anything else. I want them total girlie sissy BOYS! AND I want them sold at auction, not a private sale, I want them to go through being publicly sold!"

She slumped back, apparently emotionally drained, but inwardly she was thinking, 'Will she go for this?' Part of her hoped that she would. It would make her so easy to hate, and the guilt of punishing her would be so much less. Another part of her, though, hoped she would turn the plan down, that she would show a heretofore unseen potential for rehabilitation.

Joan WAS caught up in the evil, and thought the plan brilliant, but there was a small, nagging doubt. Did she really want to be THAT evil? She shook her head. 'Don't go all soft on me now, girl!' she thought to herself. She hoped Rose hadn't noticed her moment of indecision. She put aside any qualms she may have had about doing what Rose wanted to Lou and Ed. If she did indeed establish a true friendship with Rose, maybe they together could convince Joyce to bring Vaingirls on board as replacement feminizers. She also had no doubts about her ability to do the surgery - nice big cocks to impress the buyers, but maybe a bit TOO big to be comfortable for "the boys" - sort of like, on the other side of the coin, those really really big breasts she'd given poor 'Titerecta'. She giggled, and wondered how Rose would interpret that.

She thought of Lou and Ed, totally beautiful women from the neck up, femmy sissy boys from the neck down except for those new dangling bits, totally male, huge, uncomfortable, but oh so enticing to her 'special' clients. She thought of their humiliation as they stood naked like that before her clients. She almost wet herself! "Rose, what a deliciously wonderful idea! I certainly am glad you want to be my friend instead of my enemy. I'm sure I can come up with an 'appropriate' look for our two soon to be no longer ladies. Mutilation and public humiliation! They will be so sorry they ever laid eyes on you, my dear. But I'm not entirely heartless, I will make sure their new 'enhancements' are extremely sensitive; their bodies will take pleasure in what they will have to do - not so sure about their minds, though!" She giggled again.

Rose felt her heart sink. The hoped for rehabilitation of Joan seemed doomed to failure. Joan had done evil things, true, but her skills as a surgeon had done so much good for those transsexuals who had been able to take advantage of them. It seemed such a shame and waste to lose those skills if she were to be imprisoned. Rose had hoped to gradually convince Joan to abandon her shemale slavery activities and concentrate on really helping people through her surgery. She had even thought of a way to do it. But the indications here were that Joan was indeed a truly evil person. Sure, she herself had suggested Lou and Ed's punishment, but while it was a pleasant fantasy, she never meant it to actually be done. 'Well, maybe I want it a little.' She had to be honest with herself.

She could tell from looking at Joan, though, that she was near orgasm just thinking about what she could do to these two people who had never wronged her, had, in fact, been her business partners. EVIL! She had one ace left to play, and it could backfire on her badly. She shuddered, but it had to be done. There were a few more items of business to clear up first. "Joan, I know this is a lot, and there's more. I have two friends who also want SRS, the sooner the better, Elizabeth, Vaingirl's hair expert, and Jessica, the store manager. Then there is a third person, a surprise that I have as a token of my good faith. I know you're planning on selling Robbie, and I have a buyer for you; one rich enough to pay you just about anything you ask."

This was a new development in a day of new developments. Joan was convinced now that there was nothing spontaneous about today, that Rose had planned this down to the last detail. The question of her sincerity still remained, but Joan was inclined to believe someone who could come up with such an ingeniously evil plan as Rose had for Lou and Ed. Plus, on top of the excitement, there was the money. Three, perhaps four normal SRS surgeries, the special SRS surgeries for Lou and Ed, and now the thought of what she could charge for Robbie to someone who was willing to pay 'almost anything'. Letting no surprise show in her voice, she asked, "And who might this person be, Rose?"

Rose smiled, and instead of answering, she went to the door and opened it fully. "Time for your entrance, I think...Sis." And Salielah walked into the Room.

Joan mentally threw up her hands. 'Why am I not surprised?' She smiled. "Hello, Salielah, a pleasure to see you again - especially if you're bringing cash."

Salielah laughed. She was wearing a normal brown business suit, but there was a sense of power about her every bit as strong as that of Rose. "I love you, too, Joan." She moved to Joan, and the two women air kiss kissed. "Nice to see you again, and I DID bring money. I've seen Robbie, and I want her...with a few changes."

'Bingo!' Joan knew that Salielah was a lesbian. She would want the SRS for Robbie. "I think I understand, Salielah, and no problem with the SRS for her, but I had sort of thought, with Rose wanting SRS and all..."

"I'm interested in men, Joan," interrupted Rose. "Adain saw to that. ('A little truth never hurts,' she thought.) I'm looking forward to trying their equipment through the front door, so to speak." She grinned. "I may just recruit that boyfriend of Robbie's, what was his name? Steve? Yes, that's it, Steve. I may just 'encourage' Steve to take my new virginity. Robbie won't have any use for him after we finish her...training." Rose made sure that Joan caught the wicked look exchanged between her and Salielah.

Joan jerked her mind away from the cashbox for a moment. 'Must be civilized,' she thought, as she reached for the bottle of Jack. "Care for a drink?"

Salielah nodded. "My drink of choice, Joan." She watched as Joan poured the amber liquid. She was having fun. She knew Joan was a dangerous opponent and not to be underestimated, but, damn! It felt just like she was in one of those film noir detective films with Bogey and Becal that their father used to have flown in for them. Picking up the glass, she knocked back the shot in one swift motion, and held out the glass for a refill. "How much?"

Joan did some quick calculations while she poured. She certainly wouldn't have to split with Lou and Ed this time, and Salielah was eager. Rose had brought $4,500,000, so she could easily charge that, and Salielah would pay it. On the other hand, she had come to the conclusion that it would be both good business and good for her to have these two as girlfriends. She certainly didn't want them as enemies; each by herself could be as nasty as she had been.

'Could be? Had been?' She thought about her tenses. Maybe it was time for a change; maybe she NEEDED these two as girlfriends. She made her decision. "Look, Salielah - you, too, Rose - I've never had any close friends; I'd like to be yours, both of yours, if you'll have me. It seems we have a lot in common. Salielah, I like Robbie; I'll let you have her for the cost of the SRS surgery, if you'll guarantee that she has the same good treatment you gave Rose. I'd also like to see you woo her a little; I'd like her to go voluntarily, if at all possible."

That statement, coming from Joan, the use of such an old fashioned and romantic term as "woo", was so unexpected that it momentarily knocked both Rose and Salielah out of character - not much, perhaps just a gentler look around the eyes or a slight lessening of the dominatrix power stance both had adopted, but it was enough for Joan to pick up on. And Joan Adkins, Bitch Royale, experienced an epiphany: 1) 'Maybe these two aren't the bitches they claim to be.' 2) 'I hope they are not!' And 3) 'I don't want to be a bitch anymore!' She realized she was tired of not having any friends, only competitors and underlings. She certainly did not want to end up like Lou and Ed someday when she finally met up with a bigger bitch than herself.

The kernel of good that was part of Joan Adkins, buried deep after her gang rape experience in high school, burst forth from its prison deep in her subconscious, and she felt a glow envelop her. 'Ohmygawd,' she thought, 'I'm gonna be like Jake and Elwood: On a mission from God!' A mission to right some wrongs and to change long established habits and a long established image. And the first step would be to discover whether her burst of intuition was correct, that these two really weren't the bitches they appeared to be. An idea on how to find out came to mind, and she acted on it. She turned to Rose. "Rose, I'll be honest. I may want to make some changes in my life, and I'm not sure you two will welcome or oppose them. Here's what I propose. Let Dainie spend a few days with her "Aunt Joan." Then we'll decide what to do. Take it or leave it."

Rose was knocked for a loop. This was one of the options planned for, and it had been one of the reasons for "Aunt" Jane's training of Dainie. It had been viewed, though, as a worst case scenario; they had thought that Joan might use it as a test of how submissive Dainie actually was, whether her submissiveness was real or a trick on Rose's part. Dainie would have to go along with whatever humiliating scenarios Joan would think up, because it was essential that Joan trust Rose and look upon her as a kindred spirit, a bitch like herself.

But there had been hints that maybe Joan would change. For Rose, the Joan roller coaster was going up again. She wanted that outcome so badly - a Joan who would use her skills only for good, who would shed her dark side. And the task for helping that change along would rest almost entirely on the shoulders of a man who was playing a woman who was playing a little girl! Under the plan to simply take Joan out, Adain would simply have had to endure whatever Joan chose to do to Dainie, within reason. Now it looked as if he might have to use all his experience as a diplomat and businessman to complete Joan's conversion. Rose believed he could do it, but she wasn't happy about it. The Lord had helped Daniel in the Lions' Den. Would Allah help a Muslim man who had violated just about everything his religion said a man should or should not do? Would Allah help Adain - Little Dainie - in the Bitch's Den?

When the potential need to put Adain in the power of Evil Joan had arisen, Rose had initially refused to even consider it; it was too dangerous. Having fallen in love with Adain, nobly put him aside so Ross could pursue being Ross, having got him back again while so very afraid he would leave her, and finally finding out that he loved her enough to stay and change for her, she was not about to lose him now! Two things had changed her mind: First, Adain himself insisted on the masquerade; he was thoroughly and completely PISSED at The Three Bitches, both for what they were had been planning for Rose ("What if it hadn't been Salielah and I who bought you, Love?") and for how they had tricked him and Salielah. Also, he was in no doubt about the evil in Joan; he hated all three equally. Second, double agent Robbie, with "his" Marine Corps training, would be there to protect him.

Rose made her decision. "What time should I bring her 'round?"

Chapter 20: Auntie Dearest ??

Dainie and Joan stood on the Adams Street sidewalk that ran in front of the Sears Tower, watching as the limo that had brought Dainie sped away with Rose inside it. Joan thought Dainie appeared very nervous to see her mommy driving away, but Rose had told Dainie that she, Dr. Joan, was in charge and that she should not worry and just do whatever Dr. Joan told her to do. Dainie gripped her hand tightly with her left hand, and clutched Sukie with the other. A round Barbie suitcase rested on the sidewalk by her feet. She seemed totally unworried about how she might appear to others, an almost six foot tall, six-year-old girl in an extra large size six-year-old's party dress.

Joan was having mixed feelings about what she might discover in the two days Little Dainie, Adain, or even grown woman Dainie - whoever the hell this person holding her hand in a Vulcan Death Grip REALLY was - would be with her. On the one hand, the old Evil Joan, still very much around, hoped that Rose and Salielah were exactly what they claimed to be, bitches just like her. That Dainie was exactly what she appeared to be, an adult male multi-billionaire business man turned into a shy and submissive little girl by two dominating women.

On the other hand, Good Joan, struggling to take over, wanted out of the shemale slavery business and hoped that Rose, Salielah, and Dainie were not what they seemed, that it was all an act. The problem for Good Joan was, an act with what goal? Was it revenge and punishment, or rehabilitation? She didn't mind rehabilitation, would, in fact, welcome it, but revenge and punishment was another matter. Like Lou and Ed, she had seen "Scared Straight" as a teenager, and wanted no part of prison. And there were worse things; if Rose was really serious about what she wanted Joan to do to Lou and Ed, what might she have planned for her when the facade of offered friendship had been stripped away? She had felt that two days with Dainie/Adain might give her the answers.

She looked at Dainie. Dainie was wearing patent leather Mary Jane's on her feet - 'Got to be at least size 10,' she thought - and ankle socks with turned down lacy tops. Her legs were bare and smooth. Just a hint of white ruffled panties peeked from under the white petticoats of her pink party dress. Despite her size, she was not a caricature. Her chest was flat like a six-year-old's would be, and she was wearing only a light pink lipgloss and maybe a touch of mascara. Her hair was in the twin ponytails Rose had said she loved. "Would you like something to eat, Sweetie? Are you hungry?" she asked.

Dainie shifted from one foot to the other, looked down, and answered in a little girl's voice, "Sukie likes toasted cheese sandwiches and tomato soup, Dr. Joan..." she paused, and then somewhat reluctantly, "...and can we go in right now, Dr. Joan, please, I have to use the toilet." She was almost hopping from one foot to the other.

Joan picked up the Barbie suitcase, and led the way into the Tower. "Of course, dear." Then she looked at the doll. "Sukie, you are in luck. I just happen to have everything we need for cheese sandwiches and tomato soup!"

The elevator ride to Joan's floor was uneventful, once Joan explained to Dainie that she didn't have to press ALL the buttons.

Once inside her apartment, she showed a very relieved Dainie where the bathroom was and, once she was done there, where she would be sleeping, her room. "You'll be sleeping with me, in my bed, Dainie," she explained, pointing to her queen size canopy bed with the flowered bedspread. "It's big enough for the two of us AND Sukie." She watched closely to see if there was any hint of a male reaction to sleeping with her. There wasn't. Joan shook her head.

She noticed that Dainie wasn't looking at the bed, but, instead was looking at her dressing table. She was looking longingly at the makeup and jewelry on it. Suddenly, she seemed to realize that maybe she was doing something she wasn't supposed to, and turned back to Joan. "That'll be FUN, Dr. Joan. Can we have a slumber party? Will you put makeup on me?" she asked excitedly.

Smiling in spite of herself, Joan held up both hands. "Down, girl! We'll see about that; one thing at a time. First, let's get you and Sukie fed." And she led the way into her kitchen.

As Joan was attempting to access cooking skills very seldom used these days, she noticed out of the corner of her eye that Dainie, sitting at the kitchen table, had placed Sukie in a sitting position on the edge of the table in front of her, legs dangling over, and was apparently engaged in whispered conversation with her. Every once in a while she would cock her head as if listening to the doll's replies. All of a sudden, into Joan's mind popped the picture of Bogie holding the Maltese Falcon. 'Now, where did that come from?' she wondered. Then, all of a sudden, it made sense; she couldn't be sure, but hadn't the Maltese Falcon been hollow?!

Joan checked and saw that the sandwiches were done, and the soup steaming. She placed a sandwich on a Christmas plate - she thought Dainie would enjoy that - and ladled soup into a Christmas bowl till it was half full. She placed the plate and bowl on a Christmas tray, folded a napkin - plain white, she was out of Christmas napkins - around a spoon, and stuck it under the edge of the plate. She used a steak knife to cut the sandwich diagonally down the middle, and then cut one of the halves in half again. She carried the tray over to Dainie, and set it on the table. "You'll have to move Sukie, dear," she said. "May I hold her for a minute? She's so pretty."

Dainie looked up at Joan and smiled. She handed Sukie to her. "Sukie thinks you're pretty, too, Dr. Joan." Then she looked at the tray, which Joan nudged over in front of her, and giggled. "It's not Christmas, Dr. Joan!"

Joan moved so that her hands holding Sukie were out of sight of Dainie. As she spoke, she began to carefully squeeze every inch of the doll. "Oh, I know that, dear, but your coming to stay with me was like receiving a nice present, so I thought of Christmas. Besides, don't they tell us every Christmas that we should keep Christmas all year 'round?" There was a lump in Sukie's left foot that was not repeated in her right foot. She would have to wait till later, after Dainie went to bed, to investigate further, but she was almost sure she'd find a miniature microphone and transmitter. That was okay; she wanted Rose to know what Dainie was experiencing.

Dainie giggled again. "You're funny, Dr. Joan." Then, as if it just occurred to her, she got a sly look on her face. "If I'm your present, where's my present?"

Joan laughed in spite of herself. If this wasn't real, if it really was Adain Ben Hariesh inside the cute packaging, he was one HELL of a good actor! "That's my surprise, sweetie." She handed Sukie back to Dainie, with the comment that one of the quarter sandwiches was for the doll. "You get to pick it out; we're going SHOPPING!"

Dainie's eyes lit up. "Really, Dr. Joan? Really? Where? I love FAO Schwarz, Dr. Joan; they have really neat toys there, and about a zillion Barbies! When, Dr. Joan? When?" She was almost bouncing in her chair.

Sukie, forgotten for a moment, had slumped over and looked to Joan somewhat like a bag lady seated on a curb and about ready to puke. "FAO Schwarz it is, my dear. Although I don't know if Michigan Avenue is ready for a couple of power shoppers like you and I."

Dainie was giggling again, and it was infectious; Joan found herself starting to giggle, too. She started to reach to grab Dainie up into a hug, and then with a shock realized she'd forgotten for a moment that the little girl she was going to do that to was really a full grown man; she had been caught in the illusion.

"You talk just like Mommy, Dr. Joan," commented Dainie. "Can we go right now? Sukie wasn't hungry, so I ate her part of the sandwich." She rescued the presumably purged Sukie from her slumped over position and held her in her lap.

"We're waiting for Miss Robbie, Dainie," Joan replied. "I have to take care of some business after our 'treasure hunt', and I need both of you to help me. She'll help us shop; I think she'll love going through the Barbie section of FAO Schwarz with you. Would you like that?"

"Oh, yes, Dr. Joan! Miss Robbie was really nice to me AND to Sukie when we were in the car waiting for Mommy to tell us to come up to your office. Lots of people just 'nore Sukie. And then when we were riding the big elevator up, she was the only one who could reach the button for your floor, but she didn't push it; instead, she held me up and let me push it like a big girl. She's NICE!"

"Yes, she is," agreed Joan. She thought of Robbie lifting Adain-sized Dainie. 'And big enough to be a major help in a fight if things go wrong this afternoon.'

Good Joan had decided that some major fence mending was in order, and she wanted Dainie along to see it so that what she did would get back to Rose. She had already run a check on the current status of the "men" who had raped her. Much to Evil Joan's dismay, Good Joan had decided they'd been punished enough, and that she would do what she could to make life easier for them. She had contacted "Little Sissy Billie's" owner in the Middle East, and found that he had already set her free and set her up in a local dry cleaning shop. She was married to her former owner's butler, and they had several adopted children. When contacted, she had emailed Joan that she was quite happy. Joan had arranged a trust fund for the children's education, and sent the chemical to unfreeze her vocal chords.

Poor George - "Titerecta" - had died. "Heart attack due to overweight" had read the death certificate. Evil Joan had laughed, but Good Joan knew that George's death would weigh on her conscience; she didn't even realize the irony of using the term "weigh".

The two she'd found overseas had, after several sales, wound up in the hands of the Taliban in Afghanistan, and she had been unable to find out anything about them. More weight on Good Joan's conscience.

Stan/Stella was a different case. The price of absolution in regard to Stan required that Good Joan actually come face to face with one of the creatures Evil Joan had created. The afternoon stop on her, Dainie, and Robbie's trip today was to be the Whip and Cuff Club.

Dainie was practically bouncing off the walls by the time Robbie arrived. Both Robbie and Joan were wearing fairly conservative "Ladies who Lunch" dresses, and Dainie had changed to a plaid jumper and white blouse, keeping the Mary Jane shoes. Her hair, of course, was still in her favorite twin pony tails. Grabbing Joan's right hand and Robbie's left, she practically pulled them out the door. "C'mon, Dr. Joan, Miss Robbie, we've got SHOPPING to do!"

Both women laughed, but were reminded as they were almost yanked off their feet that they were dealing with an adult male, six-year-old girl. "Dainie!" Joan said sharply. The change in Dainie was dramatic and instantaneous. She seemed to shrink in on herself as if she expected some awful punishment. Evil Joan was all for that, but there was less and less of Evil Joan. Good Joan immediately smiled and changed her tone and, although she physically stayed standing, actually looking up, mentally she knelt down to the level of a real six-year-old. "Honey, honey, I'm not mad at you, but you have to remember that we are three ladies out for the day. Ladies do not drag other ladies around, now do they?"

Dainie, looking down at the ground, shook her head no.

"And you want to learn how to be a grown up lady, don't you?" Dainie nodded yes. "Well, Sukie does, too, and you have to teach Sukie, don't you?"

Dainie smiled, and this time spoke. "Yes, Dr. Joan." She paused a moment. "Dr. Joan?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Do you really think I can grow up to be a nice lady like you and Miss Robbie? I want to, but sometimes it's so hard. Sometimes I look in the mirror and it seems like there's a big dark shadow man behind me. Sometimes he tries to tell me things, but I turn and run to Mommy and she makes it all right. Will you help me to become a lady, Dr. Joan and Miss Robbie, so the shadow man won't visit me in the mirror any more?"

Joan's heart melted, and both she and Robbie had tears in their eyes. Evil Joan dwindled down, rolled up, and with a virtual "poof", disintegrated. "Oh, of course we will, honey!" said both women at the same time. And this time, Joan did hug her, and Robbie hugged her from the back.

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'They are going to HAVE to give me an Oscar!' thought Adain, from the comfort of the virtual recliner. He was letting his Little Dainie persona run on autopilot and improvise. 'Shadow Man. Damn, I'm good. Let "Dr. Joan" chew on that for a while.'

'Damn, she...oops, he's good!' thought Robbie. 'If this act doesn't fool Joan, nothing will. Hell, it's almost fooling ME!'

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Evil Joan had planned to use the trip along Michigan Ave. to try and humiliate Adain as often as possible, to get him to break character. If she could reduce Dainie to a blubbering, scared, hopeless mess without Adain "coming out", then she would know Rose was telling the truth. She could not imagine an adult male who was just acting putting up with all the humiliation she planned to inflict.

As it was, Evil Joan never had a chance. Adain had read Machiavelli and Mao and just about everyone else on military and diplomatic strategy, and had taken to heart the maxim that "The best defense is a good offense." He had planned all along to have Little Dainie launch a preemptive strike, but SHE, not he, had been the one to come up with the Shadow Man.

The morning was fun. Joan left Robbie and Dainie at FAO Schwarz and walked North to Oak St. and then several blocks west to the MAC Cosmetics outlet and treated herself to a makeover; she wanted to get just the right look for dealing with Stan/Stella. She hadn't had someone else apply her makeup in years, and had forgotten how luxurious it felt.

Robbie and Dainie ooohed and aahhed over every Barbie in FAO Schwarz. Even though Joan was not present, neither felt any need to break character. If the truth be told, admiring the Barbies ceased to be an act as both Robbie and Dainie - and, yes, even Adain - took pleasure in admiring the beautiful dolls. The only crack came when Dainie mischievously looked at Robbie and said innocently, "Miss Robbie, it's too bad Auntie Barbara couldn't come with us."

The thought of the mayhem that would ensue if ex-Navy Seal, ex-CIA, Barbie-hating private investigator Barbara Dahal were to find herself surrounded by hundreds of "That Damn Doll" was too much. Robbie stuffed her fists against her mouth to try and stop from laughing, but couldn't, and as soon as she started, so did Dainie, unfortunately dropping into Adain's tonal range every once in a while. It is a measure of the tolerance of Chicagoans and their appreciation of cultural diversity that not one patron of FAO Schwarz acted in any way odd in the presence of a deep voiced, giggling, 5'10" tall little girl and her equally loud adult companion.

Joan found them out in front of the store on the sidewalk, sitting next to each other in one of the sidewalk art sculptures, a couch shaped like a Chicago hot dog, that had replaced the cows of several years ago as THE Chicago tourist attraction; they were both smiling. "Well, what have you two been up to?" she asked. Robbie and Dainie looked at each other, and burst out laughing.

"What?" from a perplexed Joan.

This just increased the fit of giggling, and Dainie stretched out her arm and pointed at the door of FAO Schwarz. "Aunt Robbie and I had fun!"

'Aunt Robbie?' Caught herself in the illusion, Robbie felt flattered that this beautiful and happy little girl would think of her as her aunt.

'Aunt Robbie?' Joan threw up her hands. "I don't even want to know!" But she was smiling, too. She walked to the curb and hailed a cab. When one pulled over, she looked inside to check out the driver and make sure the cab was clean. She noted with approval that the driver was a woman.

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Barbara Dahal had changed her hair color, stripped off her nail polish, and put on more makeup than she usually did. That, plus a rather worn black leather jacket, constituted her disguise. She could not remember ever meeting Joan Adkins, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Robbie had known of Joan's plans for the day and had informed The Group. Rose, when she had been Ross/Nick Mitchell, had visited the Whip and Cuff Club and had seen Stella; she had decided to provide backup just in case Joan's plan went awry. Barbara had also, in a professional capacity, visited the Whip and Cuff, and she was comforted by the feel of her Webley-Vickers in it's shoulder holster.

She had not seen Stella, but what she had seen convinced her that it, unlike the street sculpture, was not something the mayor would tout as a tourist attraction - at least not publicly.

As Joan had approached the two on the sidewalk, Robbie had activated her pager to send a signal to Barbara two blocks away, and now here she was picking up the three. "Where to?"

"Do you know The Whip and Cuff Club on Fargo?" Joan had entered last, and answered the driver's question with her own. The driver nodded. 'She thinks we probably belong there,' thought Joan as she settled into her seat and looked over at LARGE little Dainie between her and Robbie. Dainie was positioning the middle seat belt around herself and Sukie.

Joan smiled. "That's a good girl, Dainie, to think of Sukie's safety; that's what a mommy does." She tried to make her voice serious but not scary. "Well, your mommy isn't here, but I'm sort of taking her place, right?"

Dainie nodded.

"I'm going to tell you some things, Sweetie, and you need to listen carefully so you can do exactly what I say. Remember when you and Mommy came to see me, and she made you do some things you didn't like? Remember how you felt good when they were over and you knew Mommy had made you do them for your own good?" Again Dainie nodded, although a bit nervously. "Well, we're going to what may be a very scary place because Dr. Joan has some business she has to take care of, and she needs you to see what she does, so you can tell Mommy. You need to be a big girl and do exactly what I tell you, even if you're scared. I'll be there, and Aunt Robbie will be there; we won't let anything bad happen to you. Can you do that, be a big girl for us?"

Dainie looked at both women apprehensively, but then sat up straight. "Yes, Dr. Joan, Aunt Robbie, I CAN be a big girl!" she stated proudly, but she gripped Joan's left and Robbie's right hands tightly. ('Bigger than you think, Joan,' thought Adain. 'Bigger than you think!')

The cab pulled away, leaving Joan, Robbie, and Dainie standing on the Fargo Street curb looking up at the building that housed the Whip and Cuff Club on its 13th floor. The building had been built in the late twenties as a hotel. The owner had been a devotee of 19th Century romances, and the building looked like it belonged in the Carpathian Alps. Robbie, who had never seen the building, thought it looked like something out of a Bram Stoker novel; all it needed were bats flying in and out of the upper windows. Joan, who, of course, had been there before, found the exterior appropriate, giving hints to what lay inside.

The gothic theme was carried on inside, where a huge fireplace framed by gargoyles dominated the lobby. A stone arch framed the elevator doors. Inside the elevator, the button for the 13th floor was surrounded by a miniature black handcuff. There were no buttons for floors 14 and 15.

When they exited the elevator, they found themselves confronted by the entrance to the club, which took up the whole 13th floor and the two above it. The overly large door was framed in red, and covered with black leather. About three quarters of the way up and in the middle was a single relatively small oval window, it's frame in the likeness of a coiled whip. The door knocker was in the likeness of a single handcuff. The entire front of the establishment, with the exception of the door frame, was black. The only disclosure that this was indeed their destination was a stainless steel plaque by the door with "Whip and Cuff Club" etched in black gothic lettering into the shiny metal. As they approached, the door swung silently open without any action on their part. Robbie's, "What, no squeaking door?" did NOT get a laugh from either Joan or Dainie.

They stepped over the threshold into a dark corridor lighted by lamps made to look like flaming torches; Dainie scrunched herself up against Joan, and both Joan and Robbie were about to say something to the effect that she had to lessen the vise-like gip on their hands when panels in the ceiling lighted up, giving the corridor a much more normal appearance.

"Joan!" a voice boomed, and into the corridor stepped a gentleman who, except for the fact that he was wearing a normal navy pin striped business suit, looked exactly like Santa Claus. He opened his arms, and Joan stepped into them for a hug.

"Jack, you old reprobate! Nice to see you, too." Jack released his hold, and she stepped back and turned to Dainie, mentally kneeling down again to a normal six-year-old's level. She was about to introduce her friend when she saw the look of wonder on Dainie's face; she was looking right past Joan.

"S-santa?"

Immediately picking up on the name, Jack gave Dainie his best, "Ho Ho Ho!" and came closer. "You must be Dainie. Your Dr. Joan told me that you were coming today. I'm afraid I'm not Santa, but I do occasionally like to think that I help him out." He looked at Sukie, and quickly glanced up at Joan who silently mouthed "Sukie" at him. "And this must be Sukie." Dainie nodded. "Well," he continued, "Santa did want me to tell you that you and Sukie are both on the 'nice' list..." and in a serious voice belayed by a smile, "...so far."

He held out his hand, and Dainie shyly took it and shook it.

Joan really regretted what she was going to have to put Dainie through, and wished she could just leave her with Jack. For a man who operated the most extreme bondage and sado-masochistic club in the Midwest, Jack had a real soft spot for children. He was almost singlehandedly responsible for and thoroughly behind the mayor's current push to destroy Chicago's child porn industry. His people were trained to spot even the best fake ID's, and he was one of the few club owners who couldn't be bribed to let those underage into his club. Unfortunately, she needed a witness who would tell the absolute truth to Rose about what she was about to do and be believed. Dainie, exactly because of her childlike qualities, was that person.

Jack turned to Robbie. "Jack, this is my friend, Robbie Saunders." Joan made belated introductions. "Robbie, this my long time friend, Jack Thompson. Jack runs the Whip and Cuff and..." here she winked at Robbie, "...helps out Santa from time to time."

Jack took Robbie's hand and instead of shaking it, he bowed and kissed it. As he straightened up he said, in an entirely different tone of voice than that he had used with Dainie, "You, my dear, are on the naughty list! But then..." and he grinned, "...that can be quite nice."

Then he turned to Joan, and pulled what looked like a TV remote control out of his pocket. He handed it to Joan and turned serious. "Here's Stella's control. I agree with you that she's been punished enough, more than enough, but are you sure you want to take..." and he gave an imperceptible nod toward Dainie, "...with you? You don't know how she will react once the control is deactivated and she sees you. Dainie could stay here with me."

"Thank you, Jack, but I have to take her. Personal reasons. I have Robbie with me, and she'll protect us. Believe it or not, she's a Marine."

Jack smiled. "Well, that's all right!" He turned to Robbie. "Me, too. Vietnam. We'll have to talk. Semper Fi! I'll leave you to it then," he said, turning back to Joan. "She's the second door, third floor. You'll give her my offer, then?"

"Sure will, Jack," said Joan, and turned toward the stairway. "Come on, ladies."

Jack watched as they mounted the stairs. He was basically a nice guy, who believed that what consenting adults - accent on the "consenting" - did in the privacy of his rooms was their own business. He had met Joan in college, and the two had become friends. He had already had a wife he adored, and, being an intelligent man himself, he was not put off by Joan's intellect. Both he and his wife had sensed that there was something sad and dark behind Joan's almost fanatical drive for success. In the course of events, she had told them, and they had agreed to help her if they could.

After college, they had lost track of each other for awhile, as he and his wife stayed in their college town while Joan moved away. When his wife died, Jack had moved to Chicago and, with her insurance money, had started the Whip and Cuff. He hadn't seen Joan since the funeral, and did not know she was in Chicago. He was surprised when she contacted him, but they easily resumed their former friendship.

He did not know of Joan's transsexual slavery business, and would have been appalled if he had. Knowing what Stan had done to Joan was the only reason he had agreed to keep Stella, and he had told Joan that he would not tolerate any outright physical harm to her. She had, he had to admit, made quite a bit of money for him; half of it was in a trust fund for her if Joan ever relented, as it appeared she was doing now. His offer was for Stella to remain at the Whip and Cuff, but as a regular employee at a substantial salary - and as a domme. Joan had said she would destroy the remote control and remove the receiver from her body, but she had also told him there was no way she could return Stella to being Stan. He hoped Stella would see his offer as an acceptable alternative. Just in case she didn't, he went to get his shotgun. He wasn't too worried, now that he knew there was a Marine up there, but even a Marine might need backup.

CHAPTER 21: "Bad, Bad, Bad, Bad Girls"

As Joan, Robbie, and Dainie were ascending the stairs inside the Whip and Cuff, Edwina Porter and Louise Edwards were approaching the back door, having gotten off a bus on Michigan Avenue and Touhy and made their way through back alleys. Barbara, in the cab in front of the club's Fargo Street entrance, was not aware of their presence.

After their kidnapping, they had been taken to the sub-basement of Vaingirls and locked in. The next day, under the watchful eyes of G.A., they had made statements to the Chicago Fire Department officials and signed the necessary paperwork required by the City of Chicago from victims of a fire. They had then been taken back to Vaingirls and locked back in the sub-basement.

They managed to get free the next day by the oldest trick in the book; Ed had stripped and used her clothes to pad her bunk so that it looked as if she was lying under the covers; then she stood out of sight of anyone looking through the small rectangular window in the door. Lou, cradling her injured wrist, making it look as though she were in more pain than she actually was, sat on the bed. In point of fact, so good had Barbara's aim been with the throwing knife, that despite the fact that it had passed entirely through Lou's wrist, it had done almost no damage, and she had almost the full use of her hand and arm back already. They patiently waited for someone to open the door and give them a chance to escape. Their experience with Rose had convinced both of them that making an escape attempt, however much a long shot it turned out to be, was most likely the lesser of two evils compared to what she had planned for them. Fate, for the moment, was on their side.

Only Bethany, Elizabeth, and Jessica were at Vaingirls that afternoon. Adain and Robbie were, of course, occupied with Joan, Barbara was in the cab in front of the Whip and Cuff, and Rose, with Joyce, G.A., Steve, and Salielah, was in Karen's minivan parked on Halsted, about two blocks south of the club; Karen, although not officially a part of The Group, as G.A.'s wife was an auxiliary, and had insisted on driving. They were backup, if necessary. Georgieann and Stephanie had been relegated to their respective virtual lounge chairs, as it was felt that, in the event backup was needed, it would be a "testosterone moment". Both Rose and Salielah would have preferred to be in the cab instead of Barbara, but Joan would have recognized them; as it was, they were both extremely nervous, and worried about Adain.

Worry about Adain, and the preoccupation with the "Project Joan" part of The Plan, had, in fact, caused The Group to be a bit careless in regard to Lou and Ed; neither woman had survived and become as successful as they had by being stupid. None of the three girls left at the store had any military background, and, while they had all taken basic street self-defense classes, had no martial arts training. Neither had Lou and Ed, but they were bigger women, and stronger than any of the three, and would have the advantage of surprise.

While Jessica, as usual, ran the boutique, Bethany and Elizabeth, who were between makeovers, brought lunch down to Lou and Ed. As they were descending the basement stairs, they were preoccupied with a discussion of their last makeover, a teenage boy whose mother had brought him in as punishment for constantly teasing and harassing his sister. As usual, Joyce had investigated the situation before agreeing to it. She had talked to both the mother and the sister, and then, separately, to the boy, and had felt that a feminine experience would do the boy good. Vaingirls did forced feminization, but only after careful investigation had convinced Joyce that it would be good for the forcee, and was not just a matter of revenge; she was almost never wrong.

While not a particularly effeminate looking young man, Casey, after the efforts of Bethany and Elizabeth, who could make Arnold Schwarzenegger look like a passable woman, and Jessica, who had picked out "her" outfit, had been positively gorgeous. As they reached the door to the sub-basement cell, both ladies were in the process of agreeing that the look in "her" eyes when she had been allowed to see herself for the first time, a look they had seen many times, indicated that "Caitlin" was not going to just go away after today, and that the mother may have started something she had not bargained for.

Thus, Bethany was not paying very close attention when she looked through the small rectangular window and was completely taken in by Lou and Ed's ruse. Bethany unlocked the door, opened it inward, and stepped in, followed closely by Elizabeth with the lunch tray. Ed, from behind the edge of the door, pushed Bethany as hard as she could toward Lou, still sitting on the edge of her cot. She then grabbed Elizabeth's tray and used it to pull her all the way into the cell, jerked the tray out of Elizabeth's hands, and hit her on the head with it as hard as she could. Elizabeth went down, out cold. Lou grabbed Bethany by the shoulders and pulled her down; using Bethany's own momentum, she guided her head into the wall, and she rebounded onto the floor. The two bad girls high-fived. "Whip and Cuff?" Ed asked. Elizabeth heard, and saw Lou nod just before unconsciousness claimed her.

While Lou checked Bethany and took her keys, Ed checked Elizabeth. Both women were breathing and neither was bleeding. Leaving the two in the cell, they locked the door behind them and hurried up the stairs into Vaingirls' salon area. A quick check yielded them little in the way of weapons, but each grabbed a pair of scissors and Lou snatched the twenty-five dollar tip that "Caitlin's" mother had left. Ed grabbed a compact, a lipstick, and a hairbrush. They exited through the back door, made their way a few blocks east to Michigan Avenue, and caught the CTA bus up to Rogers Park; with only twenty-five dollars, a cab was out of the question.

Unknown to anyone in the group, Lou and Ed were no strangers to the Whip and Cuff Club. Indeed, they were such frequent visitors that they maintained an apartment above the club on the 16th floor of the once-upon-a-time hotel. There were clothes, food, and foremost in their thoughts as they made their way northward, weapons in that apartment.

Jessica never saw them. She assumed that Elizabeth and Bethany, after delivering lunch to Lou and Ed, were in the salon cleaning up from the last makeover. When she finally went into the salon to ask them a question, found them missing, searched and discovered them just regaining consciousness in the Lou and Ed-less cell, and called Joyce, it was almost too late.

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Joyce threw her cell phone down on the floor of the car, shouted, "DAMN!" and grabbed it up again. "Karen, get this bucket of bolts moving!" she shouted as she clicked speed dial. "Whip and Cuff Club. Drop G.A. and Salielah at the front. Barbara!" she spoke urgently into the phone. "We need to go up, fast! Lou and Ed are loose, and they are on their way to the Club - no, probably already there. They must have a hidey-hole in the building. As far as I know, they don't know Joan, Dainie, and Robbie are there, but if they see Jack, he'll tell 'em; he's no reason not too. Wait, 'cause I'm dropping G.A. and Salielah with you. Rose, Steve and I'll go up the back!"

As she finished speaking, Karen squealed to a halt in front of the club, and G.A. and Salielah jumped out, joining Barbara on the sidewalk. As the van pulled away, they could all see the the two ladies drawing their weapons as they entered the building. G.A. never carried a gun. Joyce gave instructions to Karen as they circled the building. "Stay in the van, keep it running. Call Jessica and tell her to get her butt in gear and bring the Vaingirls' van up here quick. Tell her I know all about her little 'secret' Glockenspiel 7mm; tell her to bring it, but not to come up unless one of us calls. Keep your phone on and ready. Rose is in charge once we're upstairs, but I am for now because I know the building." She glanced at Rose, who nodded her confirmation; then she turned her attention back to Karen. "Are you armed?"

Karen reached under the dash and pulled out what apparently was the females' weapon of choice that year, a Glockenspiel 7mm. "G.A. doesn't know I have it. I have a tazer in my purse, also."

Joyce nodded, and as the van stopped at the rear entrance, she, Rose and Steve jumped out. Rose started to run ahead, but Joyce grabbed her collar and stopped her. Rose wheeled on her. "If they've hurt Dainie..."

"I know, honey," Joyce soothed, "but you can't help her if you get lost; you need to stay with us." Rose visibly pulled herself together, and nodded.

Steve, who had come up alongside the two, looked at Joyce in amazement. "When the Hell did you become one of Charlie's Angels!?" He shook his head. "I knew you could make 'em beautiful, but where did you learn to make 'em dead?!"

Joyce smiled at him. "Long story, Steve, long story." The smile vanished. "Let's go!"

Chapter 22: Day of the Dead

About twenty minutes before Jessica's frantic phone call had reached Joyce, Lou and Ed entered the lobby of the hotel housing the Whip and Cuff Club. They had used the time on the bus to utilize the things taken from Vaingirls. Badly needed temporary repairs had made them fairly presentable, although not up to their usual standard of immaculate feminine grooming. As they exited the elevator on the 16th floor, they immediately encountered Jack. He was seated in a chair next to the emergency stairway entrance. He was wearing earphones, and had his shotgun across his lap. Lou and Ed had known Jack for years, and knew that when the double-barrel was out, serious shit was going down.

"Hey, Santa," Lou smiled at him. "Why the hardware?"

"Dr. Adkins and a couple of friends are one flight down, talking to Stella," Jack answered. "It seems Dr. Adkins thinks Stella's had enough of the abuse she's been taking these last couple of years, and is going to remove the tickling control. I'm offering her a job here at the club as a domme, but who knows how she'll take things. The doctor's got a lady Marine with her, but she's also got a BIG little girl with her - if you catch my meaning - sweet girl, seemed like she was really about six and scared but trying to be brave, too. I wouldn't want anything to happen to her, so I decided I'd be backup, just in case."

'Joan, here!?' Something was tickling in the back of Lou's mind; she could see by Ed's expression that she was thinking, too. "This lady Marine, big girl, blonde?" she quizzed Jack.

He nodded. "Big and blonde, but very attractive. Do you two know her?"

Lou and Ed looked at each other and nodded. Ed spoke this time. "Oh, yes, we know her. This big little girl, did they name her?"

Jack smiled. "Dainie was her name. She showed me her doll, called her Sukie." His smile widened, and it was sincere. "I do love children, and she was definitely a little girl, for all of his 5'10"!"

'His!??' A lot of things were starting to click into place for Lou and Ed. Ed turned and started pulling Lou toward their apartment. She shot a few parting words toward Jack. "Hey, good luck! Better hope you don't have to tangle with Stella. Mean bitch! We gotta get cleaned up; had a bit of a fire in our other apartment." Jack waved in acknowledgment.

At the door, Lou blocked Ed from view as Ed retrieved their spare key from its hiding place. She opened the door and they entered. This apartment was clearly for temporary use, sparsely furnished compared to their burned out home. To the two, though, it was heaven compared to what they had left. Lou started voicing what both were thinking. "Ed, something rotten's going down here. Joan's here, and Robbie, and Joan doesn't know Robbie's sleeping with the enemy."

"Or does she, Lou?" chimed in Ed. "It's not like Joan to show mercy. Is she going soft on us? Or maybe Rose has something on her. I think we'd better place Joan in the enemy camp, too - at least till we have more information...and what about this 5'10" little girl that Jack slipped up on and referred to in the masculine?"

"'Dainie', Ed. Think. Who's the central character in all this?"

"Rose. ROSE! OHMYGAWD! It's Adain. What the hell kind of game is that bitch playing?! I need a drink, Lou, then I think we need to pull out the hardware, get downstairs, and see what's really going on!" Putting action to her words, Ed went over to a small cabinet that was doubling as an end table for the hide-a-bed couch that was their only bed there. She pulled out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses and poured them each a double. The glasses were NOT crystal, and the whiskey was NOT Jack Daniels - if the two had been wearing hats, they would NOT have been white.

While Ed poured, Lou pulled up the a corner of the rug to reveal a small cavity. She pulled two handguns from it; they were NOT Glockenspiel 7mm's, but were lethal all the same. She handed one to Lou in exchange for a glass. Both women threw back their shots, checked over their guns, and nodded to each other.

Leaving the apartment quietly, they came up behind Jack, who was apparently listening intently to what was coming in through his earphones. Lou raised her eyebrows at Ed, who nodded, and then whopped Jack right in the left temple with the butt of her gun; he slumped down unconscious, and Lou grabbed the shotgun before it hit the ground. She checked it, finding shells in both chambers. Ed checked Jack's vest, and found six more shells. She then tried to listen on the head-phones, but found she had damaged them when she had hit him with her gun; all she got was static. 'No use crying over spilt milk.'

Lou and Ed knew that all the employee rooms at the Whip and Cuff could be viewed through one-way mirrors from viewing rooms accessible only from the stairway. The mirror was also designed to function as a door if necessary. They descended the stairs to the 16th floor and faced two doorways, one giving access to the regular corridor of the old hotel, the one used by the employees' clients, and one giving access to the corridor that led to the viewing rooms. They took that one; they knew exactly where they were going, as they had viewed Stella's activities many times.

They entered the viewing room, and immediately glanced through the two-way mirror. Stella was truly the bird in a gilded cage. Her room was an over-the-top caricature of erotic feminine decor. Pink satin covered almost everything, and almost everything was rimmed with extravagant black lace. Where there wasn't satin, there was gilded trim around mirrors of every shape and size and locale, so that there was virtually nowhere in the room that a person could not see him or herself from a number of different angles.

Joan had done very little to feminize Stella, other than to add implants to create huge G-cup breasts. She looked just like a 6'5" linebacker for the Bears, forced to dress in frilly little girl drag after having lost a bet in a late-night poker game - which was the look Joan had intended. She was, in fact, not allowed to make herself look "real", although Jack's soft-hearted attitude could be seen in the fact that she looked much nicer and more feminine than she had when she arrived.

Of the other people in the room, the most notable by far to the two watching women was the 5'10" little girl almost crouching, trying to hide behind Joan. She looked scared to death, and, while dressed almost exactly like Stella, she looked absolutely real. "If that's Adain Ben Hariesh," Lou whispered to Ed, "someone has done a real number on him. If that's an act, I'll eat my hat! It had to have been..."

"...Rose!" Ed finished for her. "And I bet those Vaingirls bitches helped! Well, at least we won't have to worry about..." she sneered, "...her."

Joan was speaking, but their attention was drawn next to Robbie. She was standing between Joan and Stella, poised to intervene, if necessary. "That is one dangerous bitch!" remarked Ed. "If we go in, take her out first!" She pointed to Jack's shotgun. "Give her both barrels."

By the time they focused on Joan, she was finishing up her pitch to Stella. "...what you think of me. This is your chance to determine your own future. Jack says you can stay here as Stella as a domme, with top pay. I'll be honest with you, Stan, there are limits to even my skill. I can't give you your manhood back, but I'll help you all I can to be an attractive woman. Damn it, Stella - Stan, you hurt me; you hurt me bad! But that was a long time ago." She held out what looked like a TV remote. Stella flinched, but her eyes widened as Joan dropped it on the floor and crushed it with her boot heel.

They watched Joan move toward Stella with her arms outstretched. Stella tensed, and Joan stopped. Her voice calmed. "I know I told you when I brought you here that you could rot in this hell till you died. I guess I started to change when I found that Jack was actually a nice guy and was treating you better than I thought you deserved. I wanted to get on his case about it, make him be tougher, but I didn't. Lately, a lot of things have happened to make me realize that that rape so many years ago made me into a person no better than you guys who raped me.

"I thought I was being sensible, that being the biggest bitch on the block was the way to go and that humiliating MEN was only what THEY deserved - no matter what the individual man was like. Do you know I'm actually helping one of the men - well, she's not a man anymore, but it's by her own choice - one of the men I sold into shemale slavery to get revenge on the two women who betrayed him? I'm going to try to talk Rose - that's her name, now - out..."

Joan never had a chance to finish. Half-listening to what Joan had been saying, the name "Rose" snapped the two watchers to full attention, and the import of Joan's words was not lost on Lou.

"That BITCH!" Lou screamed. "She's gone over to THEIR side!" And before Ed could stop her, she had kicked in the mirror door, burst into the room, and was swinging Jack's shotgun around to bear on Joan. Not having much choice, Ed followed, drawing her gun.

Caught off guard, Robbie was a split-second slow in starting to move and draw her gun. Stella, knowing the room, wasn't, though, and knocking Robbie out of the way, she threw herself in-between Lou and Joan, taking the blast meant for her. Joan dodged sideways to place herself between Lou and the now emerging Ed and Dainie. Robbie dropped, rolled, and fired her Glockenspiel 7mm at Lou, catching her right between the eyes; Lou was dead before she hit the floor. She started to swing the gun around, only to find herself looking down the barrel of Ed's gun. "Drop it, bitch!" snarled Ed.

"'Drop it, bitch???' My, how original," sneered Robbie, but she dropped the gun. Ed took a step and clipped her on the temple, and she dropped unconscious. With a "STOP!" she swung her gun toward Joan, who was trying to reach for the shotgun while still protecting Dainie. "Traitor!" she hissed. "Still, you are a doctor. Check her out!" She pointed to Lou.

Joan turned her head quickly to Dainie, who was terror stricken silent. "Stay here, honey; don't move," she soothed. "It'll be all right." She quickly moved to Lou. It didn't take a rocket scientist, but Joan felt for a pulse anyway. "She's dead."

"You're a dead woman!" Ed pointed the gun at Robbie and started to pull the trigger. Then a thought struck her. "Woman! Ha!" And then, looking at the unconscious Robbie, said, "Maybe I'll just leave you dead with your pretty panties down around your knees so the cops can see right away what a freak you are!" She paused in thought for a moment. "Later. I want you awake for this, bitch." She swung the gun back toward Joan, who had moved to Stella.

Joan knew without a doubt that Stella had taken her bullet, and that she ought to be the one dying now. She could tell that Stella's wound was fatal, but she was still conscious. Joan asked, "Why?"

Stella looked up at Joan. "We even now, Doc?" Joan, with tears running down her cheek, nodded. "Doc, I've had lots of time to think..." she coughed a little, "I got what...I...deserved. Nothing wouldda worked...a domme mighta been nice, but this place? ...No. ...Jack's been a good boss, considering, ...but too many memories. ...And too late to be a man again! ...No hard feelins, Doc..." She started to say something else, but all Joan could make out was "...good girl!" before her eyes rolled back in her head and she died.

Joan sat there, and the silent tears rolled down her face leaving black mascara streaks. 'Good girl,' she thought. 'I said that to Rose, and look how she turned out. Look what she did to Adain, and she said it to Dainie. Maybe this is a Marley's Ghost thing. I must be being given a second chance! Look what I did to he...him and sh...he took a shotgun blast for me! FOR ME!'

In cold-blooded fury, Joan tensed, preparing to launch herself at Ed. Ed noticed, smiled viciously, and started to squeeze the trigger. Ed died, smiling with a bullet hole right in the middle of her forehead. When Joan looked down in surprise, Ed was sprawled on the ground on her back with her right arm outstretched. Her hand was covering the left hand of her partner, Lou; partners in death, as in life. Where had the bullet come from?

But then she thought of Dainie. The child must be terrified! She whirled around to find a man standing where Dainie had been. Oh, he was a man wearing makeup with his hair in twin ponytails. He was a man wearing a little girl's pink party dress and rather large Mary Jane shoes on his feet. He was a man clutching a doll in his left hand. But he was VERY definitely a man, and he was holding a VERY lethal derringer in his right hand, pointed toward the floor. "Hello, Joan," said Adain Ben Hariesh.

When Lou burst through the mirror door, Virtual Dainie, being a little girl with a great deal of common sense, had rushed to the virtual rec room, flung open the virtual door, and in a very unladylike manner shouted - virtually - "Uncle Adain, get your butt out here and take over!" - which he did.

As Adain surveyed the scene, he realized that Dainie was being discounted by the only bad girl left alive. Still clutching Sukie in his left hand and using her as cover, he used his right to reach inside the collar of his dress, down under his lacy cami, down to his left breast form and into the unadhesived pocket left there, the pocket where his Glockenspiel 5mm two-shot derringer rested. Taking another look, he noted that Dainie was still being ignored by Ed, who was concentrating on Stella's death scene. He drew the derringer, and it cleared his dress collar just as Joan tensed to attack. He smoothly aimed and fired in one swift motion.

"Better check..." Adain smiled, "...Aunt Robbie." He pointed, and Joan, her mind in turmoil, let the doctor part of her take over. She knelt by Robbie and checked her breathing, which was even. She pulled her eyelids back and noted that her pupils were not dilated.

"She seems okay," she said to Adain. "Help me get her on the bed." She and Adain lifted Robbie onto the bed; both thought Robbie looked quite at home resting on the pink black lace trimmed satin.

Adain placed Sukie on Robbie's stomach and pulled her arm up over the doll. "For when she wakes up," he told Joan. Then he sat down on the bed and just looked up at her, waiting.

Things had been clicking into place for Joan. She looked at Adain shaking her head. There was a look of mixed admiration and defeat on her face. "My Gawd, Ben Hariesh; you should be receiving your tenth Oscar, up there saying 'You like me; you really really like me!' I'm a psychiatrist, and I was absolutely convinced you were Little Dainie! You looked and acted absolutely adorable; now you look like a big guy in bad drag. It must be true that attitude is everything! Are you as good looking as a full grown Dainie? I don't count the maid."

Adain smiled. "Rose says I'm a - what was her word? Oh, yes, a 'total babe'. And I don't mind being Adainya, although I certainly don't intend to be her all the time. Even being Little Dainie was fun." Joan was amazed, as in the blink of an eye, Dainie was sitting on the bed. "Aunt Robbie and I really did have fun at FAO Schwarz today, Doctor Joan, but I think she got tired because she's taking a nap. Sukie said she'd keep her company. See." She pointed at the doll under Robbie's arm.

Then Adain was there again, and he turned serious. "Rose doesn't hate you Joan; you were - and I believe it is 'were'? - a bitch." Joan nodded. "But you didn't betray her and, to a certain extent, her 'What would Joan do?' story that she told you is true. She always hoped that you could be saved, redeemed, whatever you want to call it, but she couldn't be sure, which is why the dominatrix masquerade. She had to get you to trust her. Joan, Rose, as she told you, wants SRS, and you ARE the best in the business. She couldn't go under your knife without trusting you, and that meant you trusting her, no matter whether you were good or evil Joan. I had to be absolutely convincing, and I was trained by the best, Jane Thompson; maybe you've heard of her?"

"You were trained by Jane Thompson?!" exclaimed Joan. "No wonder you are so damn good! The woman is a legend! Our paths went in different directions, but I've certainly heard of her." Suddenly she got a suspicious look in her eye. "How do you stand on Rose having SRS, Adain? You originally wanted her because you liked 'special' men."

"A fair question, Joan," said Adain, calmly. "I support Rose one hundred percent, and I'll tell you the same thing I told her when she thought she would lose me if she had the operation. My mother never told me a lie, and she told me one day when I had gotten into some especially heinous mischief, that she wouldn't always be around, but that a good woman would come along and 'straighten me out.'" He smiled. "I'm heterosexual now, Joan; who wouldda thunk it!"

"A miracle!" Joan smiled. "Well, what about me, Adain? Is there another miracle for me? Am I reformed?" She answered herself. "A man who I turned into an incredibly ugly shemale and forced "her" to serve in a bondage brothel just not only forgave me but gave his life for me. If that isn't telling me that someone's giving me a second chance and I damn well better take it, I don't know what is! Yes, I'm reformed. I'll shut down the shemale auction business, do the best I can to save the ones I've previously sold, and I'll help you or the authorities get the others in the biz. If..." she held up her hand as Adain started to say something, "...if you let me try to convince them to quit voluntarily first; I owe them that much. Okay?"

Another voice answered in a bad Bogart accent. "Joanie, I believe this is the start of a beautiful friendship!" Rose strode through the broken mirror door, and swept Joan into a hug. Releasing her, she turned toward Adain, gave him a quick hug, and pulled back to get a close look at him. "Lover, you look like shit! Better be Little Dainie till we get back to Vaingirls."

Instant change. "Yes, Mommy, but we have to wait till Aunt Robbie wakes up; she's got Sukie."

Joyce and Steve had followed Rose in with guns drawn. Seeing that they weren't needed, they put them away. Steve immediately went to Robbie and bent over her. "Is she..."

"She's fine, Steve," answered Joan. "At worst, a mild concussion. She should regain consciousness any minute."

"Thank God!" sighed Steve. He looked more closely. "And thank you for letting Sukie sleep with her, Dainie."

On, "You're welcome, Uncle Steve," from Dainie, Robbie suddenly sat bolt upright. "Sukie? Dainie! Are you all right, Dainie? Joan? Are those two bitches..."

Steve put his arms around her. "Both dead, Love. And everyone's okay, and it looks like Joan has come over to the Light Side. And, oh, God I love you!" And he kissed Robbie hard and she reciprocated, while everyone watched.

Rose cleared her throat. "You two wanna get a room? If I can wait..."

"Wait for what, mommy?"

"You'll find out, dear!"

Everyone laughed, and Robbie and Steve reluctantly separated. G.A., who had come in the main door along with Barbara and Salielah, cleared his throat while Salielah hugged Dainie. "Before everyone throws a party, I see we have a bit of a mess to clear up." He tilted his head toward the bodies of Ed, Lou, and Stella on the floor.

"I'll take care of them." Jack's voice came from the ruined mirror door. "This is Chicago, and I have friends. Those two neer-do-wells will simply disappear without a trace. Done it before. Don't ask. Poor Stella will have died of a heart attack."

Joan and Jack stood on opposite sides of Stella's body. Jack sighed. "I loved her, you know," he said.

"Jack, I swear I'll make her look beautiful and give her the best funeral I can manage," said Joan, with a catch in her voice.

"She's already beautiful..." said Jack - and that simple sentence spoke volumes, "...and all of this, my dear, should keep you from doing hard time. I suggest that you mend your ways!" And then to everyone: "I also suggest that you all get the hell out of here and let me work."

Joyce had been quietly talking on her cell phone. She clicked it off. "Elizabeth and Bethany are okay; I'm sending them back to prepare food and drink at Vaingirls!"

As everybody began to exit, Rose looked down at the bodies of the two women that Ross had once believed his best friends. She looked at their hands, resting in each other as if they were holding hands. She kicked them apart, turned and walked out of the apartment. Closure, at last.

Out in the corridor, Dainie looked up at Barbara Dahal. "Aunt Barbara," she said, her eyes full of mischief and winking at Robbie, "will you play Barbies with me when we get home?" And then, to the laughter of all, she took off skipping down the corridor, leaving a sputtering Ms. Dahal behind.

EPILOGUE:

Joyce put down her pen, and leaned back in her chair. She picked up her Vaingirls coffee mug and took a sip of the 100% Colombian. Black and strong! No sissy coffee for her.

'Yuuck!' She set the cup back down; the coffee had grown cold while she was writing her "catch up" letter to Jane Thompson. It was hard to believe that six months had gone by since the "disappearance" of Edwina and Louise. She picked up the letter to reread it before folding it for the envelope.

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Dear Jane,

I really got a kick out of your last letter. Sounds like the trip to Marisha Chalet really did the trick for your latest "project". I've often thought it would be fun to see your Caro and Sandy and my Bethany and Elizabeth working side by side.

Maybe the three of you - and Darla and Marie, of course - could come to Chicago the next time Rose and Adain are in town. They are currently at home, but will be at their Istanbul residence next month and here two months later. Running a world-wide financial and industrial empire sure does take a lot of travel!

Salielah won't be with them this time, though. From what Rose says, she's big as a house already with the twins, and she's only about three months. One of the few good things Lou and Ed did was to freeze some of Ross's sperm. And of course, Adain can supply his own. It's a good thing Salielah isn't his biological sister! Still, I think they'll do it by artificial insemination. That's several years down the road, though.

I'm sure Little Dainie would love to meet her Aunt Jane; after all, you've only seen Dainie as an adult. Didn't Rose and Adainya look gorgeous in their matching gowns!? What a beautiful double wedding! It was too bad that Steve got stubborn and wore a plain old tuxedo - although he IS very handsome. Robbie told me not to worry, though, that she'd have Stephanie in a wedding gown for their first anniversary celebration; I don't think she's mentioned that to Steve yet. I'd like to be a fly on the wall in those two's house! He'll do it, though. He loves Robbie to pieces, and he likes being Stephanie; he just has trouble admitting it at times.

I guess the next wedding will be Elizabeth and Stewart, if she can ever get him to set the date. I keep telling her to bring him in. A few days in pigtails and a party dress would make him much more agreeable. :-)

Joan and Jack gave Stella a lovely funeral. She's buried in Graceland, one of our most beautiful cemeteries, by a lagoon. Jack visits her every Sunday. He's talking about selling the Whip and Cuff, though, and retiring to Florida. Bondage for senior citizens; I can just see it now.

Speaking of Joan, she has been as good as her word. Barbara Dahal - you met her, the detective - has connections with INTERPOL, and says that 75% of the world's shemale slave trade has simply ceased to exist.

Joan won't go to jail, G.A. assures me, and she continues to be the best gender reassignment surgeon that old Chicago town or any other old town has ever seen. And all her satisfied transsexual SRS clients, including Rose, Robbie, Elizabeth, and Jessica, swear that she knows how to create a vagina better than any other vagina creator in any other old city, "And God bless her," every one of them says! I know, I'm a little Dickens. :-)

Lou and Eds' bodies haven't been found, and I doubt if they ever will be; this is, after all, Chicago.

And us? Vaingirls is still turning men into beautiful women. For their own good, of course. Just like you.

You go, girl!

Joyce

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Joyce folded the letter, placed it in the envelope and licked it shut. She addressed it and put a Jack Lemon commemorative thirty-four cent stamp on it; she thought how appropriate it was for Vaingirls to use stamps commemorating one of the crossdressed stars of "Some Like it Hot". As she got up to leave, she placed the letter with the outgoing mail. 'I love this place!' she thought as she flipped off the lights.

END

 

Vaingirls is based on a real transformation salon, Transformations by Rori, in Oak Park, Illinois. Rori really can make your feminine dreams come true; she does mine. Thank you, Rori and Soto. To find out more, go to: http://www.transformationsbyrori.com/

Tell Rori where you heard about her.

Jezzi Belle Stewart, February 2002

 

 

 

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© 2002 by Jezzi. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.