Ms. Carter and Miss Candy Ch. 05

Russell let go of Thomas' head and stepped away from them, taking a defensive position. Mitch and I moved out of the way as the three boys left the kitchen. Mitch followed and closed the door behind them.

I felt dread after the boys left. Somehow, I knew this wasn't over for them.

"Flip the lock," I told Mitch, who looked a little confused. I stepped forward, threw the deadbolt on the front door, and kissed Mitch on the cheek.

"That was fun," Mitch said to me. "What's for lunch?"

-----

Over lunch, Russell recounted my speech to Mitch. I had been too busy saying it at the time to remember what I had said.

"Not the way I expected you to spend your day off," Mitch said to me after he heard the whole story. I laughed. Then I had to tell Russell about the message 'Master' had sent me.

"So, entirely your choice," Mitch told us both, "it could involve me or not, either way. What would you two like to do today." I held back a blush, thinking of how my son made love to me early that morning.

"I really have no idea," I said, "I guess I've gotten too used to other people telling me what to do lately."

"I would like," Russell said, "or rather, Jessie would like to go out somewhere today."

We talked about all sorts of options. Jessie wasn't ready for a day at the beach, and she didn't want just to go shopping. Besides, I wasn't looking forward to spending much more money. It would take me months to pay off what was already on my credit card. Russell suggested going out to a club but wasn't sure he wanted to stay out that late or be in a crowd.

"I know a club that opens at 2:00pm," Mitch suggested. We should have asked what kind of club. Russell and Ms. Carter adjourned to our respective closets and turned into our alter-egos, Jessie and Miss Candy. Mitch stood in the hallway watching the transformations with a slight bulge in his blue jeans.

-----

Mitch's Mustang was the more stylish option, but my sedan was more comfortable for three people. I slipped off my heels to drive. Mitch was disappointed to ride "shotgun" in a 'mom-car' with an automatic transmission; but I let him choose the radio station. Jessie chilled in the back seat as if it were the back of a stretched limo, loving every minute of being outdoors as herself. I wondered which was my son's true self—the man he'd been born as, or the woman he was pretending to be. Maybe they both were. He seemed happy and quite natural in both states. I tried to think of her as Jessie in this incarnation, but some part of me still held firmly to the idea that he was my son.

That would get easier over time. Today, I have a wonderful son and a beautiful daughter. Both happen to share the same body.

Following Mitch's directions, we pulled into what appeared to be an abandoned parking lot for a plain white, cement building. There were no signs above the door or on the door. I hesitated following Mitch and Russell inside. I felt even more nervous when I looked around the neighborhood. I did NOT want to stand outside waiting for them.

There was a woman in a booth behind bulletproof glass. She was 70 years old if she was a day. With a weird expression. There was a sign pointing to the right saying, "18+", and a sign pointing to the left saying "21+". Mitch chatted with the woman briefly, then there was an electronic buzz and the "18+" door unlocked for us.

As you've probably guessed, it was a strip club.

-----

"Coming Up Next To The Stage," the unseen DJ announced, "IS CANDY!!!"

Jessie turned and we shared a giggle. No way was I going to start stripping here. The other Candy was a buxom blonde sporting at least an E-cup if she ever wore a bra. Her tits were obviously fake, but I doubt that mattered to anyone who saw her. Mitch slapped a $50 bill down on the stage and walked us to a booth. Naturally, he sat down first, so he could enjoy having a beautiful woman seated on either side of him. It didn't matter to him that Jessie was my son.

"Afternoons are mostly for practice," Mitch told us once we were all seated, "Although a few guys over there come by for lunch." I looked past Candy the Stripper's massive mammaries to see a few guys seated on the 21+ side of the club. Even though it had officially just opened when we arrived, three of the men over there looked like they lived here and were already quite drunk.

"We should have this side of the club to ourselves," Mitch said, pulling both of us closer. "Tara used to exchange make-up tips with some of the girls here, back when they were in school together," he continued, as if that explained anything.

I'm not sure you could call it a 'Strip Club', since the girls started and ended their performances in the nude. It was more like being a bystander at a proctology and gynecological examination set to music. It wasn't sexy to me, but their gymnastic performances were very impressive, and both Mitch and Jessie seemed captivated.

"Hey Mitch," one of the dancers said, while upside-down in a T pose, combining a handstand with the splits in mid-air. She had strolled over without a stitch of clothing, presented each of us with a mocktail from her tray, and then climbed onto our table to perform.

"When's Tara gonna start working here?" she asked, while I sipped my mocktail, 7UP and grenadine, also known as a Shirley Temple.

"Any day now," Mitch replied, then introduced her to Jessie and Candy. She told us her name was Rina, while Mitch was slipping a $20 bill into her garter. Jessie asked Mitch something and received a wad of singles. There was a no touching policy, but Rina let Jessie slide those bills all over her body before tucking each away. Before long, Jessie was out of cash once again, and Rina's garter looked like it had robbed a cash machine.

Since the other two were so enamored, I was the first one to notice five college-aged guys stumble into our side of the gentlemen's club. There was something about them that triggered every warning alarm in my body. Mitch noticed them next, and suggested we change our seating order around a bit. Jessie slid to the center spot where Mitch had been. Mitch slid towards the edge of the booth where I had been. I ducked under the table and popped back up at the other end of the 'U' where Jessie had been seated. Later it occurred to me how we both instinctively protected Jessie in this situation. I was protecting my daughter, and Mitch was protecting the girl who would be in the most trouble if those guys found her cock cage.

Jessie was so focused on Rina that it took a while for her to recognize the danger. After only a few minutes the dancer on the main stage decided she had enough of the college boys' lewd behavior and wrapped up her show early. The song she had been dancing to continued. After she left the stage, the educated thugs turned their attention to our table. Rina was just wrapping up her performance. Jessie finally noticed what was going on, and Rina picked up on the sudden change in mood among the three of us. She cut her routine a little short and dismounted the table in spectacular fashion. Then she hurried—not running, but faster than a brisk walk—to the safety of the back room.

Shortly after Rina disappeared, Wayne emerged from a back door and glowered with intimidation. The trio had been moving towards our table, but returned to seats at the main stage as another performer was introduced on the main stage.

"This has been a lot of fun," I said to my companions, "but I think we should go."

Jessie said something to Mitch and Mitch just nodded at me. Jessie and I leaned toward each other to speak.

"Mom," Jessie said to me, "I REALLY need to pee."

I considered the situation. The college thugs were temporarily distracted, but there was no way they wouldn't notice if one or both of us girls walked by to go to the restroom. Mitch could go with Jessie and guard the door, but that would leave me sitting alone. We could all go together, but that could be provocative.

"It's sterile," Mitch said to me, "You've done it before." I sighed a little. There didn't seem to be much choice in the matter. I told Jessie that I would take care of it and slipped once again into the darkness under the table.

Jessie's dress and panties weren't a problem, but I hadn't expected the penis cage. I couldn't think of another solution, so I just wrapped my mouth around the entire thing. It was painfully uncomfortable, but it fit. I rolled my eyes while waiting for Jessie to relax or maybe just to realize what was going on. Then, quite suddenly, my overstuffed mouth became filled with liquid. I swallowed it down as fast as I could. Eventually, urine stopped pouring down my throat. I disentangled myself and reappeared in my seat like nothing had happened. The unholy trio was happily distracted by the latest performer on the main stage and hadn't noticed my brief disappearance.

"If you want more," Mitch joked, while I doused my mouth in mocktails, "I could probably find something for you." Jessie had been given a "lemon, lime, and bitters." It worked well enough to purge the taste of my son's piss. We waited until the performer on the main stage was completely captivating the audience before the three of us slipped out. We headed towards the exit and headed towards my car.

"Where should we go next," I asked as I went through my usual rituals after starting the car.

"Just go," Mitch said. He was watching Wayne throw the three college boys out of the club. We didn't want to linger. I got on the road in a hurry.

"Is it early enough for dinner?" Jessie asked, "I could really go for some steak right now."

-----

It was our day off and damn the expense. I took the three of us out to a steakhouse; at least that was the plan. At the end of the meal, Mitch ended up paying for everything with crisp, clean, nearly uncirculated cash. I made a very clear mental note to NOT ask where he got the money, no matter what horrible thoughts came into my mind. When he was paying for the steaks, I was trying very hard not to assume his recent acquisition of cash had to do with his share of Wendy's sale price at some underground slave auction.

Of course, I would learn much later that the truth was far simpler and less disturbing than I could think of at the time. Tara had given Mitch some 'walking around money' when they had seen each other yesterday. They might have a strange history, but Tara was getting paid from work and from her Sugar Daddy, and she liked to help her 'little brother' whenever she could.

After the early dinner, we all decided to drive home; well, to Ms. Carter's and Russell's home. We were happy, full, and working towards naptime and food comas. Pulling onto our street I saw the flashing lights from fire trucks and thought, 'Just perfect. What is this, now?' Getting closer to my house, I let out a gasp when I saw the ladder truck hosing down what was left of Mitch's Mustang. Two other firefighters were walking out the front door of my home. Then I noticed the broken windows and spray paint.

"You kiss your mother with that cock," was one of the more creative insults spray-painted across the front of our house. The rest were short, crass, and crude. 'Whore', 'Slut', 'Cock Smuggler', etc. I'm sure you can imagine the rest. 'MOTHERFUCKER' was painted just above the doorway.

"Three guesses who did this," Mitch said coldly.

-----

Mitch stood out on the lawn talking to the firefighters. At his request, they pried open the trunk of his car. Mitch just looked inside and nodded. When the fire department said it was safe for us to go inside, Jessie/Russell and I did. Mitch stayed out front with the remains of his machine. Somehow, he had bummed a smoke and a light off one of the firemen.

The front door was knocked off its hinges, although whether that was done by vandals or emergency personnel was unclear. More spray paint along the walls and furniture. The TV was shattered in the middle of the living room floor. Broken dishes and cutlery littered the kitchen. Somehow, there was dog shit in the hallway. They had tried to set fire to the hall bathroom. The bathmat was burnt up and the shower curtain had melted. The rest of that room looked slightly charred, but luckily it hadn't caught fire.

We separated to inspect our bedrooms. The first thing I noticed in mine was that they had broken open the locked drawer in my bedside table and scattered my sex toys around the bed and floor. "They got the folder with the photos," I said out loud.

A voice from my son's room called back, "They took my computer. The DVD was still in there."

Yeah, we were fucked.

More spray paint decorated the walls, and spray paint cans littered the floor of my bedroom. They had unloaded at least two cans into my closet and sprayed my clothes and underwear before tossing them on the floor. In Russell's room they had chopped up his panties and dresses but left his regular clothing alone. I guess they ran out of spray paint.

I was about to check my bathroom when Jessie stepped out into the hallway saying, "Mitch! Do you still have my key?" I turned and took one step toward the hall, intending to tell him that Mitch was still outside, when suddenly the whole world turned into a burst of light and sound. Out on the front lawn, Mitch and the fire crew were watching as a SWAT team raided my home.

-----

On top of everything else, those bastard little shits had Swatted me.

I found myself face down in the hall facing a pile of dog shit not two feet away. Beyond that, I could see up my daughter's dress, as three heavily armed and armored men zip-tied her hands and feet, then lifted and carried her away. I soon became aware that my own wrists and ankles were bound. A man was on top of me searching me... for weapons?

No, that's not right. That's not how you search someone for weapons. He was groping me and shoving a thickly gloved finger into my cunt. I protested. He grabbed my hair and pulled off my wig. Then he grabbed my head with one hand and—still with a finger shoved up my twat—pulled me forward. I had no idea what he was doing until it was almost too late. I closed my mouth and eyes as he shoved me face-down into the pile of shit. After that I just laid there limp and defeated, letting him flip me over. The dog shit coated my face and hair while this 'officer of the law' mauled my tits and tore my panties. Then two other SWAT officers joined the first, and—completely ignoring how he was molesting me—picked me up and carried out onto the front lawn. My panties tore off when molester cop held onto them while the other big men simultaneously dropped me.

Naturally, my skirt had ridden up to my waist, so my bare pussy was on display for the entire neighborhood. I wished they had at least dropped me face down so I could rub the dog shit off on the grass. Jessie was face-down next to me, with her dress pulled up to display her panty-clad ass.

At least, neither of us were showing off our tattoos.

Even though Mitch and the firefighters were right there telling the SWAT team they had just detained the homeowners, Jessie and I laid in the sun for over thirty minutes. Finally, a police detective and two uniformed officers arrived, and we were cut free. The firefighters waited until after the SWAT team left before they packed up to go. They even turned the firehose onto a low setting so I could rinse the dog shit off my face before I went back inside.

The officers were sent to canvas the neighborhood and knock on doors. The detective then stepped into my house. I expected he would want to walk around, collect evidence, look for clues, etc. Instead, he just righted the couch for us and sat down in the recliner. Jessie whispered to me, and I asked if she could go back to her bedroom and change before we got started. The detective allowed it, and started questioning me when I sat down on the couch.

It seemed like I was being interrogated, as the detective asked the same questions over and over about what I might have done to make some person or persons do this. He seemed certain that I was somehow guilty. He suspected the criminal was the one that had been wronged. That might have had something to do with how I was dressed. I was classy sexy Miss Candy before the flashbang, but by the time the detective arrived, the SWAT team had me looking like a hooker just after a fifty-guy gangbang. I'm also sure that some of his buddies in the SWAT had told him things—especially the one who had finger fucked me and literally shoved me into the shit.

Things went from completely fucked to even fucking worse when Russell stepped out of his bedroom without his wig and wearing ordinary t-shirt & slacks. The detective jumped out of his seat and drew his firearm on my son. "WHO ARE YOU?! WHERE DID YOU COME FROM?!" the detective demanded. He kept his gun out and aimed at Russell while we explained over and over, "That's my son. You allowed him back there to change his clothes." When he finally understood that the girl tied up on the front lawn was the same guy standing at the end of his pistol, the detective holstered his weapon.

"Well," the detective abruptly decided, "that's all the questions I have for now. Thank you for your time." Then he walked out the front door. It took me a moment, then I got off the couch and walked after him. It shouldn't matter how I was dressed; I was a respected teacher and wasn't going to accept him dropping the case just because my son sometimes dressed up as a woman. The two uniformed officers had gotten back from canvassing the neighborhood and were on the front lawn talking to Mitch.

"We got a great description of the suspects from the neighbors," one of the patrolmen started.

"That's great," the detective said, with more than a hint of sarcasm. "Call it a hate crime. Not our jurisdiction."

The patrolmen shrugged at Mitch and followed the detective. In under a minute, they had pulled away. I looked at Mitch; Mitch's burnt husk of a former car; Russell; my trashed husk of a former home; then... I looked down at myself.

"Fuck this," I said. "Get your OS bag and anything else worth saving. I doubt we're coming back here."