Consumerism Ch. 40-50

40. New York Convention Center 

Dr. Welker stands on stage in front of an audience of hundreds wearing her typical lab coat over a blouse and pants. Behind her is a large screen containing a projected PowerPoint presentation. On the left side of the current slide is a photograph of me before she transitioned me. On the right is how I look now. Large realistic but fake breasts hanging out of a blue and white Gucci dress. Long painted nails, fashionable hair, diamond jewelry, and makeup. Sexy and stylish.  

"Jamie was struggling in his new role as Executive Assistant," Dr. Welker explains. "As a straight man married to a woman, he had no desire to change his sexuality or gender identity. However, when we explained that scientific studies showed that office workers with less testosterone and more feminine characteristics outperformed their toxically masculine counterparts, he agreed to participate in Project Janus." 

That's not what happened. They threatened to fire me unless I signed some long and complicated agreement written in legalese. They described it as an improvement plan. The gender transition stuff. That was all buried in the fine print.  

"As a straight married man with no desire to change his sexuality or gender identity, he was also the perfect candidate to prove that our method could work on anyone." Dr. Welker tells the audience. "It did not take long. Jamie dressed as a woman because he was told to at first. But soon he became increasingly interested in wearing more and more feminine clothing, perfume, and jewelry. He began to put make up on and flirt with men at the office. We really knew we had succeeded when Jamie started a passionate affair with another male executive." 

She makes it sound like this was all my idea. He came on strong and I was lonely, and sex starved. Besides, I just wore the clothes he told me to. Chief likes sexy looking femme women and he dressed me accordingly. 

"She agreed to our offer to pay for her breast augmentation surgery," Dr. Welker explains with her chin held high, a knowing grin, and nod of her head. "And after initial resistance, she agreed to change her office pronouns with human resources to she/her." 

Well, yeah, because he told me too. It got ridiculous after a while too. I didn't choose to look like this. They made me do it. So, if I'm going to do it, I might as well act like any transwoman would. At a certain point, it would be more embarrassing for me to admit the truth rather than just going with it.   

"Now, you will get to meet her," Dr. Welker says with a wide grin on her face. "The first patient to be treated with what is essentially the only ever cosmetic psychiatric procedure. She is the official spokeswoman of Project Janus."  

I am behind the curtains, dressed and appearing as depicted in the post-transition picture, standing next to Chief who has his right hand firmly gripping my right shoulder. "Don't try anything stupid," he threatens as he fumbles the key and unlocks my handcuffs. "There'll be hell to pay. If you fuck this up for us." He releases my shoulder and pushes me forward towards the stage. 

As I approach Dr. Welker and the microphone stand, the crowd of hundreds erupts in applause. All eyes focus on me. The way some of the men in the audience stare at me.  I get the impression this is not their first-time laying eyes on me. My hand rubs the back of my neck and my body sweats as I approach the microphone. I could tell the truth. I'm a slave to these people. What I want more than anything is to escape from this. If that means ending my own life, so be it. I mean, what else do I have to live for anymore? The thought of being frank about my terrible situation causes me to swallow, hold my elbows tightly against my sides, and cave my chest in. The corner of my left eye glances towards the curtains. My boss is there, arms crossed over his chest, staring intently at me. I better just do as they tell me to. I don't want to have to explain it to them. Not a room full of people like this.  

I freeze and grimace as I approach the mic. A tingling arises at the base of my neck and sweeps across my face. I hate it. Being a mouthpiece for their awful, abusive program. "I-I'm Jamie," I say as I plaster on a smile. "Project Janus changed my life. Before everyone ignored me. Now I get so much attention." My stomach roils. "After they... uhm... transitioned me. Well, I've had so much amazing sex." The room erupts in laughter. I hesitate. What am I doing? A small tear forms in my right eye. "I-I..." My eyes gaze over at Mr. Bentley standing near the edge of the curtains. His left hand is wrapped around his right wrist as he rotates his right hand. "I'm so happy now that I'm a woman. M-my pronouns. T-they're she/her..." 

The crowd erupts in applause, and I feel pain in my chest, lungs, and throat.   

After the presentation concludes, people line up to ask questions of Dr. Welker or myself. One is a tall broad-shouldered man with long black hair, a pointy beard, and an intense gaze. He approaches me and winks. "I'm very impressed," he says. 

I stare at him and awkwardly smile. I feel cold sweat on my body. 

"That beating you took the other night." he says with a smirk on his face. "It was very impressive. I appreciate it. Women who like it rough like that." He licks his lips and I see him salivating as he stares at me. 

I frown and the hair on the back of my neck stands up. There's no response I can think of to give to such a remark. 

"I'm the CEO of Risen Pharmaceuticals" he explains. "Ray Bennet. Don't worry Kitten. I think we'd make a great team together." He winks at me before walking over towards Dr. Welker.  

41. Inbound Flight 

"We did it Brad," Dr. Welker says before releasing a deep gratifying sigh. I am two rows behind her. But I can still hear her faint voice. "Risen, they want to make an offer on Project Janus. We're going to be rich. All those years of corporate climbing. Finally, it's our time to get paid. 

Both of them are already rich. They can literally buy anything they want. Dr. Welker owns a Tesla and Chief drives us around in a Porsche. He told me he paid for it in cash. Neither of them has children. What would they possibly need even more money for? 

Mr. Bentley chuckles. "Ray Bennet," he begins. "Now there's a real ruthless bastard for you. He must really have gotten his rocks off. Watching me with that riding crop." 

My eyes focus forward, and I can see Dr. Welker shake her head and blush. "C'mon Brad," she scolds. "You know I don't want to hear about that. Keep your...lifestyle to yourself." 

"It's ok," Mr. Bentley assures. "He can have my leftovers. It's time for me to treat myself to a new toy." I see his eyes focus on the flight attendant's ass as she passes by their row in the center aisle.  

42. Dr. Welker's Office

"I swear, I swallowed it!" I lie. I wear a low-cut teal satin Hermes dress and matching pair of heels.  

"No, you didn't, I saw it in your mouth!" Dr. Welker accuses. "Give it back to me. We've been through this before. If you aren't going to swallow it. You have to give me the pill back." 

Fleming swallows as he looks from me to Dr. Welker.  

"Why did they send you here?" Dr. Welker asks, sighs, and shakes her head. "Where is Brad?" 

The office door creaks open, and Mr. Bentley enters. He crosses his arms across his chest, scowls, and releases a loud breath. "I'm real tired of this shit," he complains. He raises his right hand and removes his ring before slipping it into his suit jacket pocket.  

I swallow hard, tremor and hold up my arms to block my face.  

He runs at me straight on, shifts at the last second, jumps, and slams his open palm against my face with a loud thwack. I fall to the ground and sob. His left-hand shoves inside of my mouth. I imagine biting down on it. My eyes look at him. 

"Don't you fucking dare bitch," he snarls with flared nostrils and his right hand formed into a fist. 

I don't and he fishes the pill out of my mouth with his left hand. "You lying cunt," he curses. "Fleming, bend her over the desk. Now!"  

I squeal and try to run to the office exit. Fleming grabs me and I'm helpless. He's so much bigger than me. Taller, and his muscles. They're huge. He grabs me and carries me like I'm an infant child. The table slams as he tosses my limp body onto its surface.  

"What's wrong sweetheart, you feeling nostalgic or something?" Mr. Bentley mocks with a chuckle. "Thanking about your wife. Your old life before you became a corporate executive. You really think you can go back to that? Have you forgotten the other night? When I used you as my own personal toilet." He laughs. "You can't go back. Not after something like that."  

My ribs squeeze together.  

Dr. Welker frowns, wrinkles her nose, and shakes her head. 

Mr. Bentley rubs his palms together. "I know what will make you forget all about that," he says, smirks, and stares intensely at me. "A good old-fashioned spanking from your daddy." He lifts my dress revealing my lace panties. "Uh huh, I'm going to enjoy smacking the shit out of your ass, you fucking bitch." He tugs my underwear down my legs, and I feel his right hand grab my right butt cheek and luridly squeeze it.  

I hear a snap followed by a large thwack as his open palm violently strikes my right asscheek. I yelp before whimpering. "S-stop," I beg.  "I-I'm sorry..." 

Dr. Welker immediately turns and faces away from me. Her eyes gaze at an empty wall.  

"You've wasted so much of my time!" Mr. Bentley roars before he strikes my ass again and again and over and over with his rough palm. "I've had enough of your bullshit!" I wince with every strike he inflicts on me. My eyes moisten and my nose runs. Finally, my torso collapses against the desk and I briefly lose consciousness. 

Adrenaline spikes inside of me. The amphetamines rage. The dopamine agonist activates all receptors. My libido roars. I... WANT... TO... FUCK.  

My eyes shoot open wide, mouth foams, and I chuckle sadistically. "Fuck me, Chief!" I scream and cackle. "Fuck my asshole. Make me come. Put your penis in my ass. Do it, Chief. Right now!" 

Dr. Welker, still staring at a wall, clears her throat. Her head shakes and the heel of her right dress shoe taps against the floor.  

"You fucking cunt," Mr. Bentley yells. "Ok, fine!" I hear his zipper pull down and he mounts me with his fat prick. There is no lube, but my beleaguered asshole accepts his hard penis, nonetheless. "Is this what you want?" he asks. 

"Really?" Dr. Welker asks. "You're doing this in my office? It's disgusting." She continues to look away. 

"Yes Chief, fuck me, it feels so good!" I beg. My ass still smolders in pain from the beating he delivered. I take it nonetheless without issue.  

He pumps his big penis in and out of me. The musky sweat from his thick balls wafts into my nose as he fucks me against Dr. Welker's hard desk. A loud thwack sounds as he hits my ass again while fucking me. When my head turns, I see my butt is raw and full of his handprints.  

"What are you staring at?" Mr. Bentley snarls at Fleming as he rams his big prick inside of me. "Don't tell me you'd never fuck a shemale. It's no different than a woman. The cunt is just in the back. A slut like this. It's just as easy to make her moan." He thrusts hard inside of me, and I feel his cock squeeze the gland behind my balls. I moan and shiver on top of the table. "Jamie here. She can be such a pain in the ass sometimes. But at the end of the day, she's always going to do whatever it is her cunt wants her to do." He slaps my ass again hard with his palm and I squeal. I spread my legs wider for him. "That's a good little bitch," he responds with a chuckle. 

Mr. Bentley pounds me before hesitating. "I don't think you deserve it," he says. "For being bad. I'm not giving you my come. Not inside. Get on your knees. I'm going to nut on your big whore tits. Come on sweetheart. I want them to look like a pair of glazed donuts. On the ground now and pop your tits out of that dress I picked out this morning."  

I slowly push up off her desk and my ass aches from the beating he gave me. As I turn, I see Fleming. His head tilts slightly, face wrinkles, body sags, and his eyes give off a pained glance before he clears his throat. 

 My stomach knots, knees weaken, and I stare at the exit of Dr. Welker's office. I sigh and reach into my dress, pull my big boobs out for him, close my eyes, and imagine I am somewhere else.  

"Oh yeah sweetheart," I hear him thank me in-between gasps and moans. "Shake them for me."  

I do as he says, still pretending I am elsewhere. My ass hurts so bad.  

"Uh huh, oh yes," he says through heavy breathing.  

I feel his warm come shoot on to my tits. There is a lot of it, and I feel it running. His hands press my tits together and it makes a fart noise as I feel some of his jizz squirt up my neckline. He spreads my boobs about. "Look at how sticky that is," he remarks. "Those strands, wow." He pushes my tits together and apart repeatedly and all I hear is his come squishing against my jiggly flesh.  

"Jesus Brad, enough with that," Dr. Welker complains still facing the wall. "It sounds disgusting." 

"I don't see that smirk on your face anymore, huh?" Mr. Bentley asks to, presumably Fleming. "I bet you never glazed a pair of hooker tits quite so nasty." He laughs and shoves me, and my body falls onto the office floor. 

My eyes open and I see his hand holding the pill I refused to swallow lowered down next to my face on the floor. "Take the fucking pill," he demands with a snarl. I do as he says. "I saw it. She swallowed it. She's back in compliance." 

"I'm going to need Susana in my office immediately," Dr. Welker speaks into the receiver of her desktop phone. 

43. Vanholt Pharmaceutical Division -- My Office 

I lean against the door to his office and listen intently.  

"She needs to be in a mental hospital," Dr. Welker complains. "If we did a risk assessment tonight. There's no way she'd pass. It's only a matter of time. We stumble upon her dead body somewhere."  

"We're days away from a billion-dollar payday," Mr. Bentley disputes. "If Ray Bennet finds out about this, the value of our asset plummets. Possibly to the point of being worthless. We just need to keep her alive to the time when the deal is over. After that, she'll be his problem to deal with." 

"Yeah, well it's my medical license on the line," Dr. Welker snaps.  

"What other choice do we have?" Mr. Bentley responds. "Do you want to walk away from the deal at this point? Declare Project Janus a failure?" 

"Of course not," Dr. Welker responds. 

"Then trust me," Mr. Bentley implores. "I'll keep a close eye on her. It's much easier than you make it out to be. Controlling her and making her to do what you want."  

44.?????

Pleasure and pain, two sides of the same coin 

Both can tempt us, both can destroy us 

Pleasure lures us with promises of bliss 

Pain warns us of the consequences we'll miss 

But pleasure is fleeting, and pain is lasting 

Both can blind us, both can bind us 

Pleasure makes us forget the cost 

Pain makes us regret the loss 

And when we chase pleasure, we invite pain 

Both can trap us, both can sap us 

Pleasure leads us to sin and vice 

Pain leads us to despair and strife 

And when we reach the end of the road 

Both can haunt us, both can taunt us 

Pleasure and pain, they paved the way 

To the eternal fire, where we'll pay 

45. Vanholt Pharmaceuticals Division -- First Floor Lobby

The police SUV idles outside our corporate headquarters. You sit unnaturally still before your mouth takes a grim twist and you release a heavy sigh. You unholster your handgun and your hands tremble. The metal feels cold against your skin. You rack the slide back and it clicks before snapping back in place and a round enters the chamber. Duty carry. You return it to its holster. A handle of Maker's Mark sits on the passenger seat next to you half empty. A metallic click sounds as the door opens followed by a repetitive beeping noise. The key jingles as you kill the engine and end the beeping. Your boots thud against the concrete sidewalk. It's cold outside, the air filled with the sounds of morning traffic, and you can see your breath. It smells like car exhaust. You stare at it expressionlessly. The corporate logo of the Vanholt corporation.

The circular rotating door wooshes as you push it forward and enter my building. Your boots tap against the tiled floor as you make your way to the elevators. "Hey, you're not allowed to be here!" yells our security guard. You ignore him and keep walking. He grabs your left arm and locks his fingers around it.

Your head swivels slowly and you stare through aviator sunglasses. "I'm not going to say it more than once," you warn. "You need to let go of me. Back the fuck off."

"I'm sorry, but I was instructed by manage..." the security guard begins to explain.

Your first strikes his jaw with a nasty crack and he tumbles and quickly uses his arms to brace the fall. He spits out a wad of blood onto the tiled corporate lobby floor in addition to one of his dislodged teeth. You tower above him with your thumbs hooked behind the straps of your ballistic police vest. "I don't give a fuck about your management," you taunt. "I have a gun and I'm not leaving here until I do what it is I came to do. You. You don't have any gun. So, like I said before. Please fuck off."

Everyone in the lobby stares at you as you calmly and expressionlessly walk towards the elevators.

The security guard trembles. His gaze darts back and forth as his twitching fingers fumble with his cell phone. The sound of its ringing fills the suddenly quiet corporate lobby. The phone speaker clicks. "I need Fleming!" the guard yells. "This is a goddamned emergency!" He swallows his own blood.

The elevator dings as the doors woosh behind you and close.

46. Vanholt Pharmaceuticals Division -- My Office

It's very busy today. The CEO of Rising Pharmaceuticals is here with his team of lawyers. Mr. Fackler as well as several other associates. They're meeting in the conference room along with Mr. Bentley. Even that fat fuck from the FDA showed up for this. Mr. Bentley's instructions are clear. He is unavailable and not to be disturbed for any reason until it's finalized. The sale of Project Janus including myself, the patented body and personality. Nobody is allowed to leave the conference room until the deal is complete. I wear a cream-colored low-cut blouse and a black miniskirt. The only other person in my office is Ms. Turnball. The executive in charge of human resources. She was told to keep her eyes on me. They're afraid. Fearful I may try to hurt myself if left unsupervised.

I hear tapping. Someone walking very quickly down the office hallway. I lean across my desk, tilt my head to the side and blink. You walk into my office and my mouth opens and eyes widen. I gently bite my lip, smile, and stare strongly at you.

As you recognize me sitting in my office chair, you let out a huge breath and a smile slowly spread across your face. "Jamie," you say. "I got your message. I've been looking for you. This entire time. And now I'm here. To finish what I started. I'm arresting you again. For driving under the influence." You approach my desk.

I nod rapidly and rub my hands together.

Suddenly you spin around and in a brief instant your handgun is unholstered and pointed at the entrance of my office. Fleming is there armed himself with an assault rifle pointed straight at you. I freeze and cold sweat spreads across my body as my heart races and I hold my breath.

"Stand down, officer," Flemming commands. His gaze darts across my office as he rocks in place. Fleming is no amateur. One time I walked in on him. He was drinking vodka in his office. He told me he drinks sometimes to forget. When I asked him what it was that he wanted to forget, he told me. Afghanistan.