Consumerism Ch. 40-50

The conference room door creaks open before shutting. "What the fuck is all this?" Petrosky asks as he enters my office. "What part of banned from Vanholt corporate property do you not understand officer? Fleming. That's your name, I think, right? Arrest this officer. He's breaking federal law. There is a restraining order barring him from the property."

"I've taken human life before," you warn as your body twitches. Your right hand holding the handgun trembles. You pay no attention to Petrosky.

"So have I," Fleming said as he aims down his sight at you.

"I'm not leaving without her," you promise. "Jamie is coming with me. I'll drag her out of here blood gushing out of the bullet holes in my body if that's what it takes."

"Shoot him!" Petrosky says. "He's trying to kidnap an executive. I have high level contacts with the FBI. This pissant officer isn't worth the time you're giving him. Blow his brains out."

Shit. This is bad. I really fucked things up. Someone is about to die. All because of me. This is all my fault. I never stood up for myself. I always did what people told me and things just got worse and worse. If I had just said no and walked away. It could've been avoided. You are risking everything for me right now. Your job, your life even. It's so brave of you. I've been such a coward. The anxiety. A fear that something bad will happen. I avoid it and it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. But now someone is going to be killed. There is nothing worse than that. No amount of anxiety is worth a human life. You risked everything for me. Fleming served his country. He should be treated as a hero. Not bossed around by a bunch of corporate suits. Even that fat fucker probably has someone out there who loves him. I have no choice. Either I face my fears, or someone dies.

"Shut the fuck up," I scream and bash my hand violently against me desk. "Mr. Bentley is unavailable right now. That means, I, his Executive Assistant, am the acting Chief Executive Officer of Vanholt Pharmaceuticals Division. I hereby order you, Fleming, to lower your weapon."

Fleming swallows, hesitates, and keeps the rifle pointed at you.

"Are you shitting me?" Petrosky objects. "You're not seriously going to take orders from Brad's bimbo secretary, are you? Look, this is the most important moment of your career."

"I'm not fucking around," I declare. My hands clack against the keyboard. "If you don't lower that weapon immediately, you're fired Fleming. I'm logging in right now. I'm going to cancel your wife and son's health insurance. You care about them, right? You want to see them again, alive and well, with the ability to be a supporting father? Then listen to your superior officer. Put the barrel down. That's an order soldier." I turn to Ms. Turnball. "Did I misstate anything? I am currently in charge of this company, right?"

Ms. Turnball looks white. She blinks rapidly before gently nodding her head in agreement.

"Shit," Fleming curses. I can see goosebumps on his arms. Finally, he sighs and lowers his weapon.

"You fucking moron, what the hell are you doing?" Petrosky erupts.

"Oh, and this fat fucker here," I continue. "He is to be escorted off the premises immediately. Drop ins are not allowed. Anyone who comes to visit needs to make an appointment." I hold up my appointment book which shows a blank entry for the current date and time. "As you can see, this man has no appointment. This is a private corporation. If the government wants to snoop around, they need to get a proper warrant."

"You fucking bitch," Petrosky curses.

"That's enough," Fleming says as he points his rifle at the fat fucker. "You heard her. Let's go. You need to leave the premises."

Petrosky snorts before holding up his hands and finally getting the fuck out of my office.

"Ok Officer, go ahead and proceed with your arrest," I permit as I stand and place my hands behind me.

The cuffs clink and there is a smile on your face. Your body leans in so you can cuff me, but you stop when you notice a tiny bruise just above the neckline of my blouse. The smile shifts to a frown. Your arms wrap around my torso, and you begin to unclasp the buttons of my blouse. When you have finished, you yank it off me leaving me dressed only in my white bra and skirt. As you do so, it's revealed to you. The canvas of his cruelty. The painting he composed on my back is vivid in so many shades of yellow, purple, blue, and orange.

You wince, sniffle your nose, and your chin trembles. A tear runs down your cheek. Your hands clench together, stance widens, nostrils flare, and your neck throbs. "W-who... who did this to you?" you ask with a snarl.

"My boss," I respond.

"Where is he at?" you ask as your body shakes.

I point to the conference room door.

You retrieve a baton from your duty belt and swing it. It clicks as it expands. I stand in silence as you enter the conference room. The door creaks before slamming shut behind you. I hear shuffling followed by cracking noises. Chief screams from inside the room before squealing and then sobbing. You emerge from his office with blood smeared all over your police vest and your baton back on your belt. "C'mon, let's go," you say, quickly handcuff me behind my back, and escort my bruised and exposed body out of my office, down the elevator, and out the front lobby. Everyone we pass stares at the bizarre spectacle. Me shirtless, back severely bruised, handcuffed, clacking my heels against tile floor, and escorted by a police officer covered in blood. When we pass the security guard holding a bag of ice up to his mouth, you smirk at him. We get in you police SUV and drive in silence. I have a strong suspicion that you're once again not taking me to jail.

47. El Cortez Apartments  

I sit quietly in my bra and skirt on your couch. My hands remain handcuffed behind my back.

Your phone beeps as you tap at it before it begins to ring. You're standing in the kitchen in your police vest. The blood has started to dry. The phone clicks. "Hey lieutenant" you greet.

"This is Officer Holtz. I'm resigning from the police force."

"No sir, I understand that means I'm going to lose my pension. It's ok. Frankly lieutenant, it's not worth it. The city can't keep going on like this. Trying to fix the problem by throwing more and more money at it. At a certain point, the ability to buy stuff. Consume more goods and services. It isn't worth it. I'm talking about the abuse and disrespect. I've worked very hard for the people of this city for a long time now. But the way I've been treated. No amount of money would be enough to make up for it. My only regret is that I didn't realize this sooner. Good luck lieutenant, it's a sick world out there right now and I'm afraid things don't look like they're bound to get better anytime soon."

You end the phone call and turn your attention back to me. "We're not safe here," you explain. "We need to leave. Quickly. I want to take us somewhere where we can be cleansed of our pasts. Will you do this? Join me in starting over again?"

"I-I don't know," I respond and blink at you.

"Look into your heart and answer me honestly," you request. "The days of other people telling you what to do are over. The way you took command in that office. I went there to save you. But you're the one who saved me. If you don't want to come with me, I understand."

You're right. Ever since we walked down that hall together. I haven't felt it. The anxiety. It's like it didn't matter anymore. I see you blink and bite down on your lips. You want me to come with you. To say yes. "Ok," I respond. "I want to go with you. I trust you, Officer Holtz."

"Good, that's very good." You respond and smile at me.

"Are you going to remove my handcuffs now?" I ask and tilt my head.

"No, I don't know all the shit they put into your body," you say and shake your head. "You'll just have to trust me. Last time you made a bad decision. When you walked away from me. All I want is for you to be safe."

"I understand," I respond and nod.

48. Pacific Beach 

he waves crash gently on the shore, seagulls squawk, and the air smells of earthy sand. There is a light breeze that feels refreshing and I taste the salt in the air. I think I'm finally off them. All the drugs. Being controlled like that. It was like living life on a roller coaster. Time goes by so much slower now. I lay next to you on the sand. We both face the water. You're dressed in a red swimsuit and aviator sunglasses while I wear an unbranded pink bikini. We bought them at Ross. The beach is empty except for us.

"I understand if you want to," you begin before stopping. "I mean, now that you're sober again. What they did to you. It's one of the most horrible things I've ever heard of. Experimenting on a person like that. If you want to go back. Well, I understand. There are ways we could try to undo it. Return you back to a man."

I lean over you and remove your sunglasses so that I can look into your eyes. The way you look at me. It's intense. I notice it. How you can't help but stare at my voluptuous chest. Your breathing is so noticeable when I'm close to you like this. Your left arm touches my right, and your grip is possessive.

Even with all the hormones, drugs, and brainwashing, I do not feel I was born a woman in the wrong body. I am a man who was transitioned against his will. I do believe whatever they did to me did change my sexuality though. I'm not interested in women anymore. I want a man of my own. One who is strong, masculine and protective. One who likes to throw me on the bed and pound me while I orgasm over and over.

"You saved me twice," I say, stare firmly at you, rub your large bicep with my moist right hand, while I trail my left down my chin and neck to the top of my exposed cleavage. "First from her. Then from him. I see the way you look at me. I remember how happy it made you. Touching my breasts. Putting your penis inside of me. It's ok, Officer. I don't mind staying this way. As a woman. I did not choose to be trans. But it chose me and that's ok." I touch your lap and feel your hard cock through the red swimsuit. It feels so different. Much more intimate and slower. Having a normal libido again. Lustful and longing rather than horny and raging. My lips brush up against yours and I feel your bumpy tongue slide into my mouth and my eyes close.

I reach behind me and unclasp my bikini top and my large breasts jiggle as they're freed form the cheap material. Your hands caress them and squeeze my hard nipples. A beaming smile forms on my face. I can tell. You love touching them. A soft moan escapes from my parted lips. "I want it so bad," I tell you. "I want to get pounded."

You nod with a knowing grin on your face. You pull down your swimsuit and show me your big cock and wrinkly balls.

"Uh huh," I say as my mouth waters, and I quickly grab your penis with my left hand and stroke it up and down. I could do this all day. Rub your cock with my long-painted fingernails. You try to reach at my own bikini bottoms. I realize what you want and so I pull them off myself and I show you my own hard cock.

You smile as I stroke your cock and I see you staring at it. "Officer?" I ask.

"Sorry, I just..." he begins before stopping. "I wasn't sure it was still going to be there."

"Is it going to be a problem?" I ask in-between sounds of wave crashing and penis rubbing.

"N-no, I'm relieved actually," he says, chuckles, and lets out a gasp.

I giggle. "You like it huh?" you ask. "A woman with a penis."

"I like all women," you say with a grin before crossing your arms over your chest.

"Uh huh," I wink at you and climb on top and grab your hard cock and squeeze it together in my hand against my own stiff erection. I giggle and moan as I rub our two penises together.

You grunt and gasp. "That feels so good, lovely," you gush and paw at my big tits.

"You're so hard, Officer," I flirt as I reach over to my purse and pull out a small bottle of coconut oil. I fart out a glob into my hand and resume rubbing our hard cocks and making them nice and lubed up. A seagull squawks in the distance.

"Yes, lovely," you say before moaning. "I can't wait. It's going to be so nice. Making love on the beach like this."

I scoot up on you and grab the base of your hard shaft. My hips lower and I slide your big cock up inside of my butthole. As I slide down your pole, I lean forwards and press my boobs against your hard, muscular chest. I smell your cheap cologne and my eyes close, and I smile.

Your hips thrust as you pump your thick penis in and out of me. It's slower than before. Less euphoria without all the mind-altering drugs but more sensual. I stroke my own hard cock with my hand while you ram my little hole. "Fuck yes," I beg before gasping.

You grab my body as I ride on top of you and then push me over on my back and I land on the warm sand. I am so much smaller, and you are so big and strong and so of course I just spread my legs and let you pound me with that big hard cock of yours. With every powerful thrust, I feel you rubbing up against it. My own hard cock. I can feel it inside of me, pressing up behind my balls, squishing my little gland and making my stomach flutter and my body shiver and get goosebumps.

"I don't know how much longer I can last," you warn as you pound me harder and harder each time. "You're so hot down there. Those big fake tits of yours jiggling around. They did such a good job with those. They look natural."

"There yours now, Officer," I say before cooing. "Anytime you want to play with them. I'll treat you. Just so long as you keep pounding me on the regular like this." I moan and hold my legs open for you so it's easy for you to ram your penis hard in and out of me. "It's ok. I don't mind it. You coming inside me. It would be nice actually. The air here. It's so salty. I just want some of it. Inside my body."

You thrust hard, your jaw sets, muscles tighten, and your brow furrows. My loins tingle as I feel your warm come inside of me. Your lips part, you moan, and close your eyes. "Yes, thank you so much for that," I thank you as I feel your warm fluids inside my anal cavity.

You pull out of me and lay next to me on the sand. Your right-hand wraps around my own hard cock and you stroke it while we both stare down at the waves crashing up against the shoreline. I close my eyes and listen to the sound of the ocean alongside the subtle sound of a hand squeezing up and down a lubed-up penis. I come on my stomach, in a normal amount, and it feels great, wonderful, and ordinary. I climb on you, kiss your lips, and cuddle in your arms.

"That was so nice," you say as you grip my chin with your left hand and stare into my eyes. "Would you like to go for a swim now?"

49. Cozy Cabin -- Six Months Later

It's Saturday morning and you hand me a greasy bag and I smile. I pull out a steak and egg sandwich with lots of hot sauce. I take it over to my computer desk and I type away. Writing this story. My wife would never read my writing. It's so encouraging. You telling me I should write a book. It's hard. Writing what it was like to go through the things that I did. Obviously, no one here in our new small town knows. To them I am just your doting housewife. Pretty, sexy, busty, but living an otherwise average life in rural America. No one knows I was experimented on, beaten and imprisoned, turned into a woman, that I have a penis, and that we have all sorts of kinky anal sex every night together in our bed.

Ever since we cleansed ourselves in the ocean, you've quit booze. Meanwhile, I've stayed off the drugs. Also, the porn. No need for it anymore. In many ways I'm the happiest I've ever been. Wifing for you. It's so wholesome and you treat me very well. But I won't lie to you. Not when I care about you so much. There are nights. Those when I wake covered in cold sweat. And I think of everything I went through. My time as a corporate executive. Driving around in his Porsche. The intensity of the sex under the influence of all those drugs they forced me to take. All the designer brands and luxury goods he bought for me. Him beating me and making me suffer only to then bring me the most intense pleasure. Consuming every sensation that he inflicted on me. I don't think I made the wrong decision. Going with you. Turning my back on all that. But there is still a part of me. Perhaps a demon on my shoulder. Who longs for it back. Who'd like to see me submit once again to Chief's cruel sadism.

I take a bite of my egg and steak sandwich. It is deliciously hot and spicy. No need to worry though. I left that lifestyle. I'm sure of it. That they've moved on. Forgotten all about me. What I really want right now is to finish this sandwich. And when I'm done with that. I'm going to go into the living room and treat you with a blowjob. It'll be a present from me to you and you can have it any way you'd like.

50. Epilogue (Pivot to Dr. Welker as Narrator / Future-Tense) 

Freedom will triumph over fascism. I won't accept failure. Our billion-dollar woman will be found. Project Janus must progress in the interests of the pursuit of liberty and the future of humanity. That fucking murderous goon can't escape justice forever. The chickens will come home to roost eventually. Officer Holtz is going to suffer for his despicable, tyrannical, and racist crimes. The terrorists will not win this. He will bleed and be humiliated. And Jamie will then come home. As much as she may resist, she is going to return. I will break the glass ceiling and become rich and successful beyond anyone's imagination. Pharmaceuticals is going to be revolutionized by my brilliant ambitions.    

[If you've made it this far to the end of my book, thank you so much. It means so much that people would read something I put so much time and effort into. Please send feedback to me however you'd wish to do so. I'd love it so much if more people would provide thoughts of my writing.]