by chimili anne
Francis Pierce dropped his broom and sat down. Almost exhausted, He shambled over to a chair. The chiseled lines on his face had deepened from his fatigue. His rheumatism was acting up as well. He needed to rest for a minute. Two more hours until his shift ended. His mind drifted a bit; those wonderful evenings with Emma on a special trip they took on their 35th wedding anniversary. For a minute they were dancing; again, floating together, under the moon, the almost deserted dance floor of the open air club in Oaxaca.
That was before she got cancer. Her decline lasted almost 2 years. They lost their savings and their house and still she died. When it was over he lost his job too. Devastated, the shock aged Frances an additional ten years. Now 71, he lives in the Derby Inn, an old motel converted for residential use and works as a contract janitor in one of Paragon Pharmaceutical lab buildings.
Francis picked up his broom and methodically continued to sweep. After sweeping he disinfected the tables, the holding pens and the outside of the tank. The holding pens were empty now, but a large squid swam in the tank. Francis liked to watch it. He guessed it weighed 100 pounds. It swam and undulated it’s elliptical body through the water. There were frilly edges along both sides of it’s body that would swirl in smaller arcs as well, but best of all was that sometime it glowed. One of the Paragon technicians told him that the psychedelics were like mating calls. Tonight it’s luminescent body glowed in pink, red and purple waves as it swam. The colors rippled down it’s body synchronized with the undulations.
Francis leaned on the edge of the tank to watch. Not thinking, he took the gum out of his mouth and set it on the edge of the tank. After several minutes he straightened up, took all his cleaning supplies to the janitors closet and turned out the lights, except for a dim night light. His shift was finally over.
Dead tired Francis automatically picked up his gum from the edge of the tank and popped it into his mouth. Francis left the Paragon Pharmaceutical complex and shambled toward the bus stop to get the early bus home. Part way to the stop Francis noticed the gum tasted different, excellent in fact. After he got on the bus Francis pulled the gum out of his mouth to look at it. It wasn’t his gum at all. It wasn’t gum at all. It was some sort of white rubbery chewy stuff and he had eaten about half of it. Francis tossed the rest out of the bus window.
Francis woke up around noon. The atmosphere outside had turned to pea soup. Mid December lurked outside, just past the the stained curtains. Cold damp air crept in from the bay two miles away and seemed to penetrate the room. Good weather for rheumatism. Francis turned over and went to sleep. He woke up again in the afternoon. He had plenty of energy when he caught the 9:00 PM bus back to Paragon.
Next evening the squid was luminescing even more than the previous night. Partway through the night Francis stopped work to watch it for awhile. He saw the squid nose partway out of the tank. When it slid back some white rubbery chewy stuff from under the hooded head was left on the edge of the tank. Francis shrugged his shoulders, broke it in half, put one part in his pocket and one in his mouth. The following night was Friday. He did the same thing again.
Francis had a lot more energy that weekend. When he looked at himself in the mirror on Sunday afternoon he looked a lot better than he had for a long time.
Monday when Francis went to work there were two monkeys in the cages. Tuesday both monkeys had a festering scar on their right arm. On Wednesday the scar on one monkey’s arm had gray and dying skin on it, the other had a thick bandage on his arm. Thursday the monkeys were gone.
The mollusk, which Francis had started calling Queen Mary stopped luminescing on Tuesday. It wasn’t until Thursday, when the monkeys were gone that Queen Mary started luminescing again. An hour before the end of his shift Francis started feeling tired. He leaned on the edge of the tank while chewing his “creature cud” when he thought he sensed an impulse or signal from the squid. Several seconds later it was gone. “Did I think that, or did it come from Queen Mary” he thought.
That Saturday Francis woke up late. Actually on Saturday mornings late was arbitrary, because his trip to the grocery store would only take forty five minutes. Lying in bed he noticed he felt tingly. Frances explored his body, tracing out where the the tingling was. He touched the spot on his left where the arm meets the body, just above his chest and slowly traced the feeling to his left nipple. He stopped in surprise because his nipple was swollen. The whole nipple and every area within an inch of it was tingly. Francis felt it all again and then traced the feeling downward for about six inches, then he did the same thing on the other side. He found the erogenous area around his genitals had changed, but he didn’t know how.
His mind raced nonstop in a panic. Eventually the crazy thoughts in his mind slowed down. The tingling had subsided giving him some quiet time to think, “That creature cud is starting to change me. Into what?” Francis looked at himself in the mirror, The deep furrows in his brow were less than half as deep as they were two weeks ago. His face looked softer. The purple age spots on his arms were almost gone. He went out to get groceries. He walked with a lighter, younger step, and carrying two bags of groceries was a snap.
Francis put away the groceries, sat on his bed, and became deeply philosophical. “It is making me younger and stronger. Is it making me more feminine?” He felt a little jolt go up his spine. It was a mixture of pleasure and dread. When it subsided his mind switched into what he considered rational. “I may always have to work some, but at least I will be able to do it, and maybe have a life as well.”
It was the holiday season. No work for a few extra days, so Francis woke up late again. He lolled around for about ten minutes exploring his younger, healthier body. It had changed from a week ago. He definitely was developing breasts. Francis felt a tinge of panic about it. This was replaced by a feeling of pleasure, then of panic again because of that pleasurable feeling, but he soon calmed down. His skin was smoother and younger looking. The lines in his face; almost gone, and he couldn’t locate some of the tingly areas he found last week. The holidays came and went. Francis hardly noticed.
A week and a half passed, Then on Wednesday Francis had to come early for an evaluation in a different building at Paragon. A 35 year old supervisor was there from Universal Janitorial Services, the subcontractor Francis worked for. The evaluation was a joke. The supervisor told him his work could be better, said a few platitudes and pointed to the door. It took two minutes and it was over, since there wasn’t much to evaluate on a janitor’s job.
Leaving the small room, somewhat absentmindedly Francis turned the wrong direction and passed the Security Chiefs door. On the other side of the door Cranston Blake, the bald, muscular security chief was chewing out a lab tech. “We are scheduled to go to Phase III on the Blue Venom Project next month, and you decide not to be a team player anymore. You stopped inoculating the monkeys and you are not doing what Dr. Findlemann tells you to do. I think you may be deliberately sabotaging the project.”
The young man replied in a nervous, thready voice. He explained that what he was doing was bothering him and didn’t want to inoculate monkeys or anything else. He didn’t want to dissect the creature either, because it was one of a kind. The only known one in existence.
Cranston exploded, “It’s a damn squid! People eat ’em in fancy restaurants. We’re not paying you to put on your frilly panties and sit there and write nice sweet evaluations. Grow up, you’re not in second grade.”
The man feebly tried to protest, but Cranston cut him off. “Here’s what you are going to do: one, you will collect the rest of the venom, two, you will test for more hormones and three, you will cut up the slug, I mean the squid in a month and find out what else is inside it.”
Cranston reamed him out some more and got personal. By the time he finished five minutes later the young man had peed in his pants.
Two nights later Francis stopped his work to glance at some of the lab tech’s notes. Written in obscure scientific jargon they describe how their squid is a hermaphrodite and the rubbery white gum is the congealed aftermath of cum and female juices. By now it didn’t matter. Francis loved the stuff and collected and chewed it religiously.
“It’s weird”, thought Francis, Queen Mary turns from male to female and back again, but I just keep growing girl parts.”
Francis flipped to a different part of the notes. They mentioned something called Blue Venom that came from the squid. Francis noticed three small vials with clear cobalt blue liquid. He glanced at the cages where the monkeys had been and put two and two together.
The next day Francis went to a thrift store and picked out a bra and two sets of panties. Embarrassed, he paid the clerk, who said nothing and took them home. He overestimated on the bra. It was 36C and he wasn’t there yet, but the panties were the right size. Looking in the mirror Francis noticed that his hair had thickened out. He was starting to look like a woman. “Pretty soon I guess I will be Francine.”
Two days later Francine put on the bra and panties, stuffed the bra a little and put on some nondescript clothes. S.he looked in the mirror, “I guess I could pass as a dyke.” Francine opened the front door a crack and peeked out. José and Ralph were twenty feet away changing a tire on Josés pickup. Francine had a yikes moment and closed the door. Twenty minutes later s.he heard the truck drive off. S.he opened the door a crack. No-one was there so s.he snuck off to the thrift store.
Two hours later s.he returned, eighteen dollars poorer, with a pair of woman’s low heeled shoes, jeans with a flower pattern and two tops.
On Monday Francine took the evening bus to work dressed as Francis. When s.he arrived at the lab s.he noticed the squid was acting differently. It kept nosing around the lower edges of the tank. Francine couldn’t find any more gum either. “At least I collected a bunch of it already.” s.he thought. Two days later there was a pile of eggs in the corner of the tank. The following day the squid was gone.
That weekend Francine put on her lady clothes. Now the bra fit. S.he decided to go to Larry’s
Lounge. It was far enough away from the Derby that it was unlikely any of the neighbors would be there. Francine dressed in the clothes from the thrift store and put on a woman’s coat she got from the thrift last week. The Queen Mary Chew (that’s what s.he called the rubbery gum) had already made Francine more interested in men than women. Larry’s was a sports bar with a male to female ratio of four to one. Entering Larry’s she went to the bar and ordered a seven and seven. The big TV behind the bar was heralding the beginning of March Madness.
Twenty minutes Francine finished the drink and a free one appeared thanks to a man two stools away. Predictably he moved in, talked Francine up and bought her two more. He lived nearby and escorted her out of the bar. Now Francine knew where this was headed and s.he was in a quandary. S.he still had male parts although they had shrunk to half size, but that was still too much.
Stewart’s apartment wasn’t much, but it still was a lot better than Francine’s. Couch-bound together Stewart was soon rubbing dangerously near to Francine’s crotch. The problem would literally come to a head in a few moments. Francine thought fast, first moving Stewart’s hand away, then rubbing toward his crotch.
‘Hey sugar cakes,” said Francine, “I’m afraid it’s that time of month, but I do have a lovely mouth.”
Stewart took the hint. Francine enticingly undid his pants and slipped off pants and briefs. Kneeling before the couch s.he teasingly tickled his balls and blew a thin stream on his cock. Soon it was rhythmically entering and exiting her mouth. Francine was getting hot. S.he felt tingles in her titties and elsewhere as well. Reaching between her legs s.he rubbed herself as she sucked harder and harder. As Stewart spewed down her throat Francine managed to deposit a small offering in her own panties as well.
Later Francine got Stewart to drive her to an all night diner near the Derby. S.he lied and told him that she was meeting her aunt and uncle there soon. When he left s.he walked home.
The following Tuesday Francine had to come in early again. Her supervisor told her that their janitorial service had lost their contract with Paragon and everyone under him was being laid off. Francis would get the two weeks severance pay on Friday.
Francine soon upgraded her wardrobe with some of the severance pay. A few weeks later she walked down to a section of town near the seawall. It was late afternoon as she entered the Neptune Saloon. She had been looking for a job, but first confusion about how to act as a woman jinxed a few prospects, then self-doubt jinxed a few more.
Only three people were in the dimly lit bar, Frank, the bartender and two men who sat and drank in stony silence. The bar and bar stools appeared to be restored antiques. A partially separated second room had more modern furniture and a stage with a brass pole near either end. The whole back wall of the room was an underseas mural with a laughing Neptune and three mermaids.
In a clumsy and direct manner Francine got right to the point, “Do you need any waitress help?” she asked Frank.
Frank started to wave her off and say no, but he stopped himself and looked at her boobs. By now they had grown some more. “You can work part time? Thursday, Friday and Saturday night?”
“Sure I can,” Francine thought, “It’s better than nothing.”
Frank took her into the kitchen, “Work runs from 5:00 PM until one in the morning. Wear tight jeans and one of these t shirts. That’s your uniform.” He held out a blue-green T adorned with “Neptune Saloon” and a mermaid on it.
Thursday Francine showed up at the Neptune. Caroline, one of the other servers showed her the ropes and showed her how to tie up her T-shirt so her boobs looked bigger.
Happy hour from 5:00 to 6:00 was easy enough, then there was a lull between 6:00 and 7:00. At 7:00 Carla Cupie Doll took the stage and was soon working on one of the poles. Within an hour the bar was crowded and Midnight Marie spelled her on the other pole. A third dancer rotated dances with the other two as well. By now they were dancing topless.
Francine now found the work hectic, but managed to keep up. “Watch out for Saturday,” Caroline told Francine. “They really get busy then.” When Saturday came Francine found out how true this was. When the bar closed she was exhausted, but she made more money here that at the old job.
Francine used Monday and Tuesday to find a better apartment. She settled on an efficiency only three blocks from the Neptune. It wasn’t much bigger, but it was cleaner and newer.
A few weeks later two of the dancers were sick. On Thursday Frank asked Francine if she would try to fill in until they came back.
“I wouldn’t know what to do.”
“Don’t worry. Come in at 2:00 and Marie will show you the basics. There are a few spare bras and G-strings in the costume box. I’m sure one will fit you.”
Francine came in early and rummaged through the costume box. A shiny green bra fit her nicely and, fortunately for her, she found shiny green boi shorts to match. She still had up to two inches down below. Fortunately it didn’t get hard anymore. So she pushed it into her scrotum as if it was a turtle pulling it’s head in under it’s shell and taped it well.
When Marie arrived she showed Francine some floor moves. Francine picked these up easily, but the pole moves were a different story. By 5:00 Francine had bruises from dropping down the pole too fast, but she did learn a few pole moves. Marie put some concealer on the bruises and told Francine, “Lap dances are the best. You get the biggest tips, and just wing it free-form.”
Even though she moved awkwardly at times, that night Francine scored four lap dances and with all the bills tucked in her bra and panties, made double what she made waiting tables.
The next week one of the dancers was still sick, so Frank let Francine dance on two nights. On Saturday when Francine began the second round of floor dances she felt relaxed and sexy. She felt so sexy that as she danced and slunk, a luminescence seemed to ripple across her skin. Then she took her top off. Her boobs cascaded out of her bra. Francine held her hands and shoulders tightly together and wiggled her breasts between them. Now the luminescence was more obvious. She finished off with a pole dance. Off and on for the rest of the night the faintly colored luminescence rippled over her body. Another gentleman took her home after closing and again she told him it was that time of the month, but she would suck him off.
The next night was quiet. Frank told Francine she could go home two hours early. On the way to her apartment she noticed three men were standing around a trash can fire in an alley across the street. One of them noticed her.
“Hey cutie, don’t you have the fine ass. Hey come on over. I wanna see it up close.”
The second murmured something to the third.
“Yeah, that’s right. Let’s all get some of that. First dibs.”
“Maybe all three of us can fuck her at the same time.”
They all started to move. Francine felt the cold hands of fear grip her chest and stomach. Then fear turned to hot rage. She braced for an attack, but the men just moved back to the fire and laughed.
When she got home she started to rub her hands together to get them warm. When she looked at then there were droplets of clear cobalt blue liquid under her nails.
One night in mid February Francine was completing a floor routine when a powerful looking man sat at one of the small tables near the stage. Bald and muscular, he looked familiar, but Francine couldn’t place him. He waved a Hamilton and made a come here signal with his finger.
“Lap dance.” Francine said as she moved toward him.
“No, sit across from me.”
Now she recognized who it was, Cranston Blake, the security chief at Paragon Pharmaceutical. She felt a little shiver go up her spine.
“I need to talk to you about a problem.”
Francine felt a bigger shiver follow the first one.
“You stole some valuable material from the lab. We have you on surveillance tape doing it night after night. It’s that white rubbery stuff, and from the look of you, you have been eating it.”
“It’s just some kind of gum.”
It’s a lot more than that. Paragon was doing research on it. It’s patented now, and it’s in your system. It’s changed your DNA, so you are now a patented product that Paragon owns.”
“Du . . . I . . . uh.”
“Paragon owns you. We can do what we want with you. Send you to jail. Experiment on you. Perhaps even worse.”
“You can’t own people. I’m a person!”
Blake pulled a small slip of paper out of his pocket. “Not anymore, the Contingency Properties Act passed last year allows us to do that, own you! You will have plenty of time to read it in jail.” Blake continued as Francine stared at him with her mouth open. “Unless, you can work your debt off. You will meet me tomorrow night at 10:00PM out in front.”
“I can’t do that. I’m working till one in the morning.”
“Tell the bartender you have an emergency. You’re aunt’s sick in Jersey City and you have to catch a bus up there. Or we could stick you in one of the monkey cages and experiment on you a bit. Let’s see, you look like a size eight . . . Is that right, size eight!”
Francine numbly shook her head up and down.
At 10:00 A glum Francine was out in front of the Neptune Saloon. Blake pulled up shortly in a limousine with dark windows. A second man handed her some clothes and told her to put them on.
The two men sat in front of the limo and Francine was able to change privately in the back. First she put on a shimmery bra and thong followed by a liquid silver dress and heels to match. Soon they pulled into the Four Seasons, the other man went in and returned with a third man. They only introduced him by his first name, but half the time they spoke to him they addressed him as congressman.
Blake whispered in Francine’s ear, “Do anything he wants, he’s into your type.”
First they had drinks at a swanky, but dimly lit club. Blake’s associate ordered scotch for all, and the waiter brought out some that was probably bottled when Sir Walter Scott was still alive. There was a little finger food too. Francine didn’t know what it was, but it was exquisite.
After drinks they drove to a mansion in the suburbs. Francine and the congressman were soon upstairs. After some oily come-ons he started groping her. It was OK though and soon she was down to bra and thong. He slipped a hand into her panties, checked what she had in front, which wasn’t much, then eased her onto the bed. Slipping her bra strap over her shoulder, he popped out her breast and started sucking it. The congressman was getting excited and Francine found it rather pleasant.
Next she knelt on the floor before him and started sucking his dick. As it got bigger she finally couldn’t get it all into her mouth, to his displeasure, so she tickled his balls to distract him. Finally off came the thong and he buried his dick in her.
After dropping the congressman at the Four Seasons, Blake’s accomplice handed Francine “A nightcap” from the limousine bar. Before she drank half of it everything went blank.
Francine’s mind was in a haze. Where was she? Everything around her was confused and swirly. She closed her eyes. In a bit she opened them. Things were a little clearer. She was lying in a bed, but whose bed? She looked around the room. It was a pleasant enough room, a woman’s bed room. Groggy, she fell asleep again.
She woke up to someone touching her on the shoulder. “Come on sweetie. Wake up now. Time for breakfast. A lady handed her a tray and left.
After breakfast Francine started to get up. It was hard moving around, as if she had laid there for days. She checked around the room. There were her clothes from last night, and very little else. She wandered over to the bathroom. She sat on the toilet and reached between her legs. Something was missing. She felt some more. Her little cock and balls were gone. Francine looked down. There was a vagina with some surgical stitching on it.
“Oh wow! It’s gone.” Francine didn’t know how to feel, empty, depressed, angry, erotic. All sorts of mixed emotions. She went back to the bed and laid down. An hour later she was up and dressed.
Leaving the room she went down a short hall. There was a receptionist talking with a nurse by her desk.
“Where am I?” Francine asked them. Before they could answer a man grabbed Francine.
“It’s OK,” he said to the two ladies. “She will be checking out. Get an orderly with a wheelchair.”
Before she knew it Francine was driven home. The man helped her into her house, and handed her a package and a note and left.
Francine read the note:
“You should take it easy for a few days after your operation.
A delivery man will bring you lunch and dinner. Eat
more of the squid gum so that you are ready for next week”.
It wasn’t signed. The package was a large clump of her creature cud.
Francine went back to work at the bar the following week. For that whole week something else seemed to be missing too. It was much harder to think profound thoughts, and even some regular thoughts too. Her mind kept wandering to clothes and makeup, to being silly and having fun, and to sucking cock and how her pussy felt hot. Her mind seemed so different.
Blake showed up at Neptune on Thursday. He had another client for Francine and he was in a hurry. Francine was getting ready to do a lap dance for an overweight fifty year old with a Cat cap. Blake threw the man’s money back at him and when the Cat cap man complained Blake shoved the man away.
“You’ll have to go outside.” Billy Ray the bouncer intervened.
Blake followed him outside and when outside Blake lifted Billy Ray’s arm and slammed him in the ribs three times. Blake went in and told Francine, “We will pick you up at your house at six tomorrow night. Dress like a little girl in pink and white, because you’re going to pretend to be one.” Blake handed Francine three Benjamins and left.
Before she left work that night Francine got with Frank and an aching Billy Ray, and told them, “For everyone’s sake I better not work Fridays and Saturdays.” Frank changed her schedule.
By 6:00PM Francine had used most of the three hundred to buy a frilly pink bra, frilly panties, a blonde wig with shoulder length hair, a pair of horizontally striped pink and white stockings, a classic pair of Mary Janes, a frilly pink dress, a white apron to go over it and a lollipop slightly larger than a golf ball.
The limo pulled up in front of Francine’s apartment and Blake’s assistant fetched her. The assistant got into the limo next to Blake
Francine got into the back of the, limo. A man of about 65 was there. His gray suit had a soft rich appearance. It matched his gray hair. “Just call me Senator Jimmie, little girl.” he chuckled.
Before she could answer the window between the front and back rolled down. “Talk to Blake now,” said the assistant.
Francine walked up to the front window. Blake stuck his hand out with a pill in it, “Take this, it will make you hot.”
“OK” Francine took the pill and swallowed it. “Could I have some more?”
Blake handed her two more pills. She put them in her apron pocket as she went back to Senator Jimmy.
“I think you are a grampy. Are you my grampy?” asked Francine as she popped the lollipop in her mouth.
Senator Jimmy assured her he could be and asked Francine to pour him a drink from the limo bar.
“I like to drink cherry Coke. It’s yummy. My lollipop is yummy too. Do you like sweet stuff?”
“I like you, sweet stuff.”
“Oooooh.” Francine opened a door on a console just behind the front seats, managed to concoct something resembling a Manhattan for Senator Jimmy and slipped the contents of a pill in it.
Soon they arrived at the same mansion she visited a few weeks before. Left alone together Francine looked at grampy and cooed, “My lollipops almost gone,” she made a grumpy face, “Where will we get more? Is that a lollipop in your pocket?”
“It’s sort of like a lollipop, you can suck it and it doesn’t melt.”
“Ooh, I want to see it,” Francine touched his crotch. “Is it a good thing or a naughty thing?”
“A naughty thing.”
About this time the pills started working. Francine pulled off grampy’s pants, kneeled on the floor in front of him and started sucking him off. Grampy soon pulled her apron and dress off over her head. As she continued sucking him off grampy noticed that Francine’s skin was glowing with soft rippling colors. The effect was mesmerizing. Soon off came the pink bra and panties. Just the striped stockings Mary Janes and wig was all that remained. Grampy got Francine up on the couch and climbed between her legs.
“Ooh, what are you doing? Mommy will be mad”
“Mommy’s not around.”
“We won’t tell her?”
“We won’t tell her.”
“Ooh that’s big. Ooh that’s . . . ooh, ooh, ooh. Oh grampy”
When grampy finished the front side he started on the backside, then back in her mouth.
Francine giggled when he came and cum dribbled out of both sides of her mouth.
After a break there was a repeat performance, and by the time Blake was back grampy didn’t look so good. Blake looked at his assistant and noted, “She wore him out.”
From then on it was an almost constant traffic of seemingly important people fucking Francine. Some were congressmen because she recognized the gold lapel pins. One was a general, and a couple were agency heads, because Francine saw their faces on TV.
Blake gave Francine more pills, lots of them in Paragon Pharmaceutical bottles, and told her,”Throw out the squid gum. We make it in pills now. Take six a day.”
Francine looked at the bottle, “It says take one a day.”
“Take six bitch. Or else. I want you to glow” He stuffed six or eight into her mouth and made her swallow.
For a few days Francine tried taking the pills, but they made her nauseous, her skin itched and sometimes she felt dizzy. She stopped taking the pills, but she now had an almost uncontrollable desire for them. “What the hell did they add to the ‘creature cud’ to make ’em addictive?” , she thought.
In an act of bravery she flushed them all down the toilet, and chewed a wad of Queen Mary Chew. It helped a whole lot.
Francine emptied a plastic tub of yogurt, wrapped the rest of the Queen Mary Chew in plastic, put it in the bottom of the tub and put some of the yogurt back on top. “At least Blake won’t take this from me.” she thought.
Next came the week from hell. First it was a sadistic agency head who hadn’t differentiated sex from torture, then two sick congressmen who wanted her to do things she’d never heard of or imagined.
The day after Blake was at her door. He pounded twice and jimmied the lock in five seconds. “What the hell kind of performances were those!” he shouted in her face. “you didn’t glow. In fact you didn’t do crap.”
“I can’t glow unless I’m happy.”
Blake grabbed her by the chin, “It doesn’t work that way miss prissy pants. We own you. I OWN YOU!” He opened a kitchen drawer and then another and finally the refrigerator. “Where’s the pills you are supposed to take?”
“I ate them all.”
“Bullshit!” Blake slapped Francine across the face. He put three hottie pills in her mouth. “Swallow.”
He made her swallow. “I’m going to fuck the shit out of you, between beatings!” He ripped off the jumper Francine was wearing and pulled off his pants. “Now take these, a lot of them.” He held out the Paragon Pharmaceutical bottle.
Blake slapped Francine twice across the face, slammed her against the wall,grabbed her arm and put an unbelievably painful lock on it. As Francine opened her mouth to scream Blake unscrewed the lid on the bottle with his free hand.
A rage started to build deep in Francine, it blended with her fear. Blake had over a dozen pills in his hand, and as he pushed the pills into her mouth Francine’s rage erupted. Despite the pain she clawed out at Blake’s balls with her free hand.
For a second Blake’s face looked quizzical, and then he shrieked and doubled over. Drops of cobalt blue liquid dripped from the deep scratches on his cock and balls. Blake doubled over in pain. Shaking and moaning he crawled out to his car and into the front seat. The car weaved down the street out of sight. Francine spit out the pills and looked at her hand. There was blue liquid dripping from under her fingernails.
Francine realized she had to get away fast. What would Blake do to her when he recovered, if he recovered?
She quickly cleaned herself up from the attack and hied herself to I Car a Lot, a used car lot two blocks away from her apartment. It was a small lot with about twenty cars, an office from a repainted old Der Wernerschnitzel takeout stand and Pete was there. Polyester Pete, all 5’6” of him with a polyester shirt, tie, pants and a thin mustache that twitched whenever he had a devious thought.
Francine found an eighteen year old SUV that she liked for $2,999, but it would take all she had and a little more.
Pete was all over her before she could turn around. “It only has 168,000 miles on it, just a few dings on the body, and look at the upholstery, redone recently.” His mustache twitched. He handed her the keys and they drove it around the block. The mileage numbers seemed uneven, as if the speedometer was turned back. “Let’s go inside and put you in this great car.” He led her into the office.
After fifteen minutes of haggling Pete would only drop the price of the car to $2800. The hottie pills were starting to work, and Francine had little time before they would turn her into a wreathing piece of flesh. Unable to sit still, she started wiggling in the seat. Pete mistakenly thought she was already to sign and said he would waive the prep fee.
“I want your machine . . . I mean your car . . . but you can’t afford it . . . I mean I can’t afford it.” Francine started shaking, beginning to lose control she grabbed him by the tie. “ I want your hot, I mean your car and you are going to give it to me, give it to me for less. You’re going to give it to me! . . .”
Pete’s mustache began twitching again. He pulled the curtain down in the big front window. And was quickly down to his boxers. Francine wrapped her leg around Pete’s, licked him on the nipple, nibbled his neck while putting a finger in his ear. Pete had grabbed her butt cheeks, one in each hand as they flopped onto the couch. Any remaining clothing wound up on the floor. Pete fingered her ass and pussy at the same time.
“Gentlemen, start your engines. I want that piston in my cylinder, I want it to rev up and down. Faster, faster, deeper deeper. Ooh, aah, ooh, aah, ayeeeee!” Francine’s body was screaming for more, anticipation climbed like screaming banshee engine, R. P. M.’s ascending over the red-line. “Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my Go- AIIIIEEEEE!”
Francine put Pete’s member in her mouth and started to deep throat it. That’s all it took. Pete spewed to the accompaniment of moans and groans.
There was a minute of silence. . . “$2,300. I-ii-ii-‘ll give it to you for $2,300.”
“It’s not over yet. I’m hot, and you’re going to give it to me for less!” Francine coated her middle finger with face cream from her purse and penetrated Pete’s backside.
“Huh! Wait a minute. I don’t . . .”
Francine hopped on him, pushing her finger all the way in and wiggling it about,causing a pleasant sensation. About this time Pete saw that Francine’s body was rippling with soft colors. As the psychedelic display distracted him Francine’s ring finger joined her sister inside Pete, and Pete was soon inside Francine again. The carnival orgasm ride was open for business again.
In the end Francine drove the car off the lot for $1,800.
When she got home Francine packed up the SUV as fast as possible, stopping only twice to get herself off again using the bathroom doorknob. She got her deposit back from the landlady, sat in the drivers seat, adjusted the mirrors, kicked over the engine, backed out and headed west.
An hour later she stopped at a quiet roadside rest area and rubbed the sides of her pussy, again, until she came. By now the horniness was subsiding to be replaced by an ache in her groin.
Coming in from the east on Interstate 11 , Las Vegas looks like Disneyland in the desert. Francine exited to US 215, then Interstate 15 and finally exited west of The Strip. Soon she found a place to rent in that area between the casinos on The Strip and downtown. By the next evening she had a job in a gentleman’s club off The Strip.
The club didn’t open until 9:00 but Arnie, the manager told Francine to come early, at 6:00 and bring some of her outfits. When Francine arrived she slipped into a totally emerald green outfit; satiny emerald green bra and panties that shimmered, an emerald green sheath dress slit up to her hips, emerald green suede 4” pumps and emerald green earrings.
Arnie had Francine show him one of her routines on the club stage. By the middle of the second song Francine was down to bra and panties and her body was starting to glow with soft shimmering colors.
A tall curvaceous woman with big hair and a short red dress emerged from a dark corner of the club. “Francine, the new girl? You must be Francine the Neon Queen! Girl you got it all wrong. All green, no contrast. Girl, you body’s glowin’ pink and purple and you in green! Uh, uh, uh.”
Francine stopped and stared. Arnie looked over his shoulder. “Can it Shaun. You better get your act together.”
“Uhhh, (gasp) it’s Sha-na-na! And, it’s Madame Sha-na-na to you Arnie!” The woman said with a pout.
“Drop the games miss 60’s rock groupie and say hi to the new girl.” Arnie left to answer the phone behind the bar.
“I’m Madame Sha-na-na.” The lady in red extended her hand toward Francine, fingers down, but you can call me Sha. Only my friends can do that.”
By now Francine had figured out that Sha was a she-male, although she preferred to be called a lady, lady boy, sistah, or sweetheart. Lady boy didn’t fit, Sha was stacked with silicone.
After awhile Arnie came back, gave Francine a few suggestions what to do based on their clientele, told her she would be doing the after hours act with Sha and make it graphic, told them to work it out, help themselves to a drink and left.
Nine to One was pretty standard, stage dances, lap dances, chatting up big spenders and pretenders. Each hour it got a little more intense. A little after one Francine and Sha started a duo routine, one did her erotic moves to remove her dress using a full six or seven minutes. Then the other did the same as the first one watched. Then Sha slowly, erotically play chased Francine around the stage. Francine would back away, but entice Sha on. She tried to escape unsuccessfully up the stripper pole. Sha wrapped her leg around Francines, lowered her bra cup and mouthed her nipple. Francine pretended to resist then to get excited, By now the bras were off and Francine’s body was rippling pastel colors. Sha slowly worked Francine’s panties off, knelt and slowly lapped her pussy from bottom to top, then back up to the boobs. Francine worked down Sha’s panties and a big present popped out.
Soon Francine was on her knees sucking in as much of Sha’s member as she could, lapping the head, then sucking it down. Sha turned her around and instead of entering her pussy, went for the other hole instead. Francine felt stuffed and Sha reached down and played with her pussy. Francine could feel Sha’s big tits slapping her back as Sha built up a rhythm. It was throbbing inside of her. Sha pulled out and Francine took it in her mouth while Sha slowly twisted and pulled Francine’s nipples, sending electric spasms through her body. Sha erupted in Francines mouth and on her face. Francine took two fingers, collected some love goo, and shoved it into Sha’s mouth, and it was over.
Las Vegas Boulevard, or The Strip is the main play area in Las Vegas. It caters to all adult fantasies that you could want or imagine, for a price. Downtown, along Fremont Street is an older, somewhat seedier area dedicated to the same thing. Between the two is a much quieter area. Here Las Vegas Boulevard is darker at night with an occasional convenience store, liquor store or wedding chapel. Francine’s new apartment was in this area, two blocks away from the boulevard.
Sha had given her lots of other information, “Stay away from Circus, Circus, they don’t like me there. Say I’m not family friendly. Hell girl I’m family friendly. You and the other girls are my family. Over toward the east of the strip here, see here on the map there’s a dark bar where the girls and semi- girls that can’t pass go, and next to it is a place with great jewelry. Don’t cost much either. And over here west of the strip is a place that’s hard to find . . .” Sha went on and on, but some of it was good information, and Sha was sort of family.
With the new apartment and all the information Francine soon fit right in. Best of all she had escaped from Blake. He would never find her here. Days turned into weeks and weeks into months. Francine began to feel secure.
A man in a sharkskin suit from the Stratosphere came in late one afternoon with the owner of the gentleman’s club and talked to Arnie. The club owner didn’t look happy. Arnie signaled for Francine to come over and introduced her to the man. “Julio is from the Stratosphere. The boss owes him a favor. They want you to fill in on a psychedelic review. They need to add some pizzaz to their act. It’s an in house troop that plays about four times a month. You will have to tone it down, you know PG-13, but the theater seats over 500 and you will make double what you do here.”
Francine thought, “My ship’s come in, but how long will it be in port ’cause I’m running out of critter chews. Will I get old again, or turn back into a man without private parts? I don’t want to go back to being a man.”
On one of the quieter nights Francine was hanging out with the bouncer Tyrone. The bartender signaled blue alert to him and pointed to a patron exiting at high speed. Two minutes Tyrone had a scruffy and slightly inebriated gentleman by the collar and brought him back face to face with Arnie.
“You tried to skip out on a ninety two dollar tab. Lay out your credit cards, pay, and you can leave.”
They tried both his credit cards and the card reader rejected both. “It’s time for Kangaroo Court,” said Arnie.
Tyrone got the attention of the people at the bar, then said, “Hear ye, hear ye, hear ye, the Court of Last Appeals is in session, the Honorable Arnold Carson presiding.” A few people snickered.
“This man came in and ordered expensive single malt scotches without any money or credit, and planned to bail. Do you have anything to say for yourself before I pass sentence.”
The man looked surprised and muttered something incoherent about Arnie being a dickhead.
Arnie pulled out a gavel from behind the bar and rapped the bar hard. “ I sentence you to ‘The Treatment’ and full restitution of ninety two dollars plus court costs. “. Arnie looked at Tyrone, then at Francine,“And since you’re doing nothing now, Francine, you can be his handler.”
Francine had been briefed on this a long time ago and knew just what to do. Tyrone escorted the deadbeat into the change room and made him strip. Then Francine picked out a pink polka dot stripper bra and panties. “No, no , no” said the man, shaking his head back and forth. A hard pinch on the ear and a mean look by Tyrone was all he needed.
“What next?” Francine mused. She flipped through the dresses on hangers along the back wall. “Here’s a lacy looking mulch-colored long dress; a bit chewed up, but . . . it will serve the purpose.” They put it on the crestfallen stranger.
Francine fumbled through the shoe rack, a man’s size 10 shoe next to her. “This is a bit tougher . . . hmm here’s red ones, oops size eight.” after three or four minutes she had three pair that might fit. “Hurrah for Gay Pride night and Drag Queen Night,” she thought, “I’s amazing what people leave around here.” The best bet were pink and silver striped 4” platform heels. “At least he probably won’t break his neck with these on. You know that Tyrone and I get a cut. Ten extra for Tyrone and fifteen for me. You have to make one hundred and seventeen dollars.”
Finally there was lipstick, eye makeup, perfume and a wig. Francine went with a perky bubblegum pink one. “And now we gotta name her. Doreen . . . nah. Drucilla . . . nah. Cinderella . . . better.”
“Chantelle!” Tyrone piped in.
“Yeah, that’s it.” Francine gave him a peck on the cheek as a reward and ran out on the stage. “And here she is,” she shouted, “Fresh from her cross-country tour of the tri county area, Chantelle!”
Tyrone pushed the freeloader out on the stage. The man gasped in horror, his Adam’s apple twitched and he stood shaking as everyone laughed.
“You have to do something,” Francine whispered as she took his hand, “Now strut like this . . .now grab the pole and wiggle your ass back and forth.” The stripper music started up.
Pretty soon Francine had Chantelle doing basic moves, and although s.he was crying the audience started tucking a few ones into her neckline and cheered.
“It’s time to get out of that dress,” Francine whispered and started to unzip the back. When the dress dropped there were more cheers and hoots.”
“Wreathe on the floor!”
“Do a pole dance!”
“Come’re and do a lap dance!”
Chantelles face was red with extreme embarrassment and tears dripped from her eyes, but she did three lap dances and tried to do the pole. After four numbers there was a small forest of ones and fives tucked into h.er bra and her panties. It looked like enough so Francine pushed h.er back into the change room and Tyrone counted out one hundred and twenty nine dollars. Tyrone gave the man twelve dollars back gave Francine hers, took his and brought the rest to the bar. Francine tossed the man his clothes.
As the man left amid laughter there were calls of, “Come again sweetie,” “Shake your booty one last time,” and “Think pink.” He ran half a block down the street and sunk down onto a doorstep and collapsed. Francine performed two sets on the stage before closing.
By now Francine’s car no longer worked, so lately,Tyrone dropped her off near her door after the club closed. Francine stuck the key in the keyhole, but the door wasn’t locked. She opened the door and turned on the light. A hand grabbed her. She shrieked, trying to get out to Tyrone and safety, but his car was already halfway down the street. The hand pulled her inside and shut the door. It was Cranston.
By now Francine was shaking in fear, even though she tried to hide it.
“Really? Running away to Las Vegas. That’s just lame. I’ve known were you were for several months. Paragon Pharmaceuticals and I am very disappointed in you after all we invested in you and then you destroyed my balls, they’re gone now and you are going to pay for your criminal activity. Bitch! All that effort, all my time, all that I’ve done for you.” Cranston continued his soliloquy as he slapped Francine again and again. Quieter now he punched her in the stomach, and when she dropped to the floor he slammed her head into the floor.
Francine was dizzy, panting, whining, then uncontrollably crying as she heard Cranston said, “You fucked me up good and I own you and I’m going to put you to good use now. We’re going to turn you into a lab rat.” He turned to an assistant standing in the shadows. “Go ahead and give her the shot.” The room started swimming, and then it went dark.
Francine lifted one heavy eyelid and closed it again. Five minutes later she opened both. Fighting off the cobwebs in her brain she looked around. She was in some sort of private jet, handcuffed to a seat. The logo on the front of the cabin was that of Paragon Pharmaceuticals. She turned her head around and Cranston’s assistant was there, but no Cranston. Francine had a little time to clear her head, but not much. Soon Cranston left the copilot’s seat, made himself a drink at the bar and came back. “Such a shame, you getting to know all those congressmen, cabinet secretaries and their assistants and not taking advantage of it. They sure know Paragon and they like us. What a fool.” He turned and went back to the cockpit, drink in hand.
Awhile later Cranston’s assistant gave Francine another shot. When she awoke she was in a large cage in a lab. Francine only had a white cotton shift dress on. Cranston’s assistant was the only person she saw. He fed her and made her take Paragon pills each day: six gray pills that often made her nauseous and made her skin itch and made her boobs and butt grow, three pink diet pills, two red pills that fogged her mind up, and a blue pill that didn’t seem to have any purpose at all. Of course, all of them had weird names. After five or six weeks Francine became anxious and her heart beat started to become irregular.
Francine told the assistant how sick the pills were making her and could he please stop giving them to her.
“Sorry, can’t do that. I get paid a lot for doing nothing. I got a good thing going here.” “ Yeah they add stuff to the molecules of the stuff they find so they can get a patent. Add a hydroxol ion here or a hydrogen there, maybe make it addictive. It’s quiet. Time to play “War of Thrones.” the assistant thought. “ You’ll survive it, for awhile.” He went back to his desk and played computer games for the next hour.
Cranston stopped by, saying a few unkind words to Francine and told the assistant to give her ten gray pills a day instead of six and five pink ones instead of three. Soon her heartbeat became worse and they gave her a white pill to keep her from being anxious, but she was nauseous almost all the time and the nasty headaches started in too. Francine began hiding the red pills and the blue pill under her tongue and spitting them down the drain when no one was watching, but there were too many gray and pink ones to spirit off. After about a week off the red and blue pills her brain cleared up and her feelings returned.
Cranston came back again several weeks later with two strong female assistants, turned and said, “Fix her up. Let’s see what the bimbo looks like.” to one of them and left. The women took Francine out of her cage, bathed and shampooed her, shaved her legs, and did her eyebrows and nails. They gave her candy apple red panties and 36 DDD bra and let her look in a big mirror before they put her back in the cage. Her hips were big, her waist smaller than she ever remembered and her insides felt wretched.
Half an hour later Cranston was back with a package under his arm. He started undressing, talking all the while. “Well, you can redeem yourself a little.” Off came his shirt. “We have a job for you in just two nights, and we have to get you ready for it.” Off came the pants, and he started kicking off his loafers one-by-one. “You will be doing a dog and pony show for POTUS and one of his friends.” Off came his underpants and he opened up the box. Francine noticed his balls and part of his cock were gone, gone where she scratched him months and months ago. “It’ll be a real dog and pony.” “We’re going to give you five hottie pills, so you will be insanely horny.” “POTUS will be so happy he will clap his little hands together, and he might even join in the fun, so we’re going to stretch you out now! Ha, ha.” Cranston strapped on a huge rubber dildo. It was at least a foot long, and he couldn’t even ring his thumb and middle finger around it.
As he opened the cage door Francine cringed in the corner of the cage. She felt a strange feeling she hadn’t felt for months. Her brain was now clear and she could feel the rage building. Her fingers felt moist as Cranston lunged at her trying to ram the dildo into her hole. She wanted to scratch him, but he held both of her arms down. Cranston lunged again and she felt as if she was splitting apart. She started to shriek. Cranston put a hand across her mouth and with a sweep of her arm she clawed across his face. Lightning bolts of pain coursed across Cranston’s face and he shrieked as well.
Cranston was white with rage, his hands on Francine’s neck. She felt a pop in her spine that spasmed her whole body, then time seemed to stand still, feeling gone, sinking, sinking, slowly into darkness and oblivion.
The man lay in the hospital bed, his head supported by a pillow and a slimy looking patch over half his face. The TV was tuned to “Business Horizon” and Michelle and Warren were giving their weekly wrap-up. “. . . Maxwell Hi Value Fund continues it’s run of good picks and they are up 13.9% for the quarter.”
“That’s great Warren. Now it’s time for the stock of the week.”
“It should be stock of the month or even year, but that’s not one of our categories. It’s Paragon Pharmaceuticals, up 17% two months ago, up 22% last month and up a whopping 29% this month.”
The man in the bed fumbled with the controls and the TV got louder.
“They are on quite a roll with three new drugs approved by the FDA in the last two months and more on the way.”
“Unprecedented Michelle. They just put out Zeta-Tihonus an anti-aging pill, Eroticia a female hormone enhancement, and Phyteloderm a topical substance that heals burns.”
“I have a wonderful human interest story about that one, Warren, Paragon’s Chief of Security was involved in an industrial accident and he received serious caustic burns to his face, but thanks to Phyteloderm the doctors believe he will have a full recovery, and Paragon is promoting him to Chief of Operations.”
“That’s heartwarming, Next week our special guest will be the wizard of the energy sector . . . ”
The man in the bed fumbled with the TV controls, and the screen went black.