Transformations - The Farm Ch. 02

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"You tell that son of a bitch if he wants to go to prison, he's making all the right moves," Diane Krantz growled into the phone. The two-lane road through upstate New York was making her almost as angry as her idiot client. The road twisted and turned and there was nothing but green on both sides. For a New Yorker, this bucolic landscape was green hell.

"He thinks he was in the right to talk to the press..." Her assistant's voice answered through the Bluetooth connection.

"He's a fucking moron. He pays us to make sure he doesn't do fucking moronic things, so this is our failure as much as his. Tell him to stay the fuck home, order fucking take out, and keep his fucking mouth shut. And, if he's really lucky, I can keep him from ending up getting raped in prison."

The speaker was silent for a moment. "You really want me to say that?"

Diane rolled her eyes. "No, Elaine. You translate me. Take out the "fuck"s and the reference to "prison rape". Got it?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"I don't know, maybe I shouldn't go on vacation," Diane said.

"Diane, you haven't taken a day off in months."

Diane sighed. "I know, but can you guys handle this?"

"We will, I promise. I'll make sure all your clients lay low for the next seven days."

Diane smiled. "Thanks. Call me if..."

"I am not calling you, boss. Have some fun. Please?"

"Fine. I guess."

She pressed the button on her steering wheel to close the call.

The quiet in the Mercedes seemed thick. Almost stifling.

Diane Krantz was one of the best criminal defense attorneys in New York City. Her dance card was always full, because she got results. Ninety percent of her clients got off, and the other ten percent got much lower sentences than they deserved.

Diane saved monsters from peasant wrath, and she was paid handsomely for it.

She was very wealthy. Of course, she had no life, got no sleep, and looked forty-five instead of her real age of thirty-five, but that was the price of being the biggest shark in a big ocean.

But, even she knew she needed a rest. What good was success if you were dead from a heart attack before forty?

Running in the circles she frequented, Diane had heard whispers about "The Farm". Supposedly, it was like a combination health spa and fetish club. Very exclusive - it had no presence on the web, and admission was through invitation only. To get in, you had to know someone who had been there.

It took her months to find someone who would recommend her, and another month before she was contacted to setup her vacation.

A week on The Farm was expensive: six figures for seven days, and the cleintele read like a Who's Who of the rich and powerful. But, the testimonials from those clients, delivered in strictest confidence, included the words 'miraculous', 'unbelievable', and 'best vacation I ever had.'

Even after paying in advance, there was still a thorough, invasive background check, a physical exam, a visit with a psychologist, even a DNA sample.

It seemed overkill for a spa.

Other than being luxurious, Diane knew very little about the spa experience itself.

The one thing she did know: boobs. The boobs had been the clencher. Every woman she spoke with had the most amazing breasts after a week at The Farm. Perfect, Double D, breasts. No surgery, no pain, you just left a week later with Playboy tits.

The feminist in her was deeply embarrassed to admit it, but she had always dreamed of having breasts that would drive a man insane with lust. And, what was wrong with that? Boobs were power, and Diane loved power. She had thought about surgery for years, but hadn't been able to bring herself to do it.

The other part the women who had been to The Farm whispered about: the sex. Uninhibited, animalistic, sex. There was a hedonistic, orgy atmosphere that permeated stories about The Farm.

Diane's lover of the last five years was made out of black rubber and took AA batteries... a lot of AA batteries. She was in her prime, and the love of her life had been manufactured on an assembly line in Taiwan.

A week of hot sex followed by going into middle age with the rack of a goddess seemed like a wonderful idea.

The kinkiness of the scenario worried her. She had never been a swinger or even loose - five lovers in thirty-five years didn't exactly make her slut material. If she was honest with herself, she wasn't even sure she could go through with staying at The Farm.

But, damn it, she was growing older and she needed some fun.

Her GPS told her to turn right, and she turned onto a narrow drive through a tunnel of green.

Gravels crunched under the Mercedes' tires.

She emerged in a clearing with fenced pastures on two sides. A plain, white farmhouse sat at the end of the road along with a large white barn.

She had been instructed to park behind the barn, and rounding the corner she saw a small lot filled with luxury cars and SUVs. There was even a helicopter pad in the field beyond.

Diane parked behind a black SUV.

She turned off the engine.

The instructions had been clear: bring nothing. No clothes, no toiletries. Everything would be provided.

Now that she was here, she stared out the window at the barn and wondered if it was a good idea.

***

Bear stood up and fastened his jeans. He stared down at his junk still hanging out his fly. "I'm... you're sure I'm not bigger? I just... I don't remember ever having to stuff this much meat into my pants."

Heather laughed and got up from the operating table. She knelt in front of him and gently pushed his thick, soft cock into his jeans. "You be extra careful with all this meat. It's my favorite toy." She slowly eased the zipper up and then kissed the bulge.

He helped her up.

She winced in pain.

"You okay?"

Heather nodded. "Only hurts when I laugh. And, when I fuck." She winked at him.

He cradled her in his arms. "Well, I guess we better slow down, then?"

"Like hell!" She laughed and nuzzled against him.

He frowned. "And, you're sure I was undercover for the Church at WNYC?"

She kissed the top of his chest through the tight t-shirt. "Yes. Gwen sent you there to keep an eye on media stories about the Church."

"I just... I can't remember."

"Hey, it's okay. That bitch Rebecca sucker punched us both. You took quite a blow to your noggin," she lied. Gwen had changed his memories of the night before slightly. In the edited version, he had turned his head for a moment and Rebecca Tanner had clubbed him with a flashlight before she had beaten up Heather.

His eyes flashed with anger. "What are we going to do about that slut?"

"Well, I want you to go find her in the woods and bring her back here..."

"Goddamn right, I will."

"Hey! Gwen wants her unharmed," Heather looked up into his brown eyes and smiled mischievously. "But, you can have fun with her if you want."

"I want you," he whispered, his hands sliding down to her full buttocks.

She laughed. "Yes, and you're going to have me. But, I'm the best girlfriend in the world: you have my permission to fuck her brains out. Come on, you know that little blonde pussy makes you hard." She rubbed his cock through the left leg of his jeans.

"She makes me angry."

"Good. Channel that. She's out in the woods high as fuck on aphrodisiac. Use her. It's what I would do," she smiled as she leaned up and kissed him. "Then bring her back here and we'll both have fun."

He finally returned her smile. "Both of us, huh?"

"Baby, you know I swing both ways - every way as a matter of fact."

***

Diane looked at her car keys. The sun streaming through the windows of the Mercedes was hot. She needed to make her choice: either go in and get freaky or chicken out and drive back to Manhattan.

"Fuck it," she said to the empty car. She got out, closed the door, and locked it with the remote.

Her expensive heels crunched in the manicured white gravel walkway that led to the barn. She perspired a little even in her thin white blouse and black pencil skirt.

She reached the door and opened it.

Bright white light and high pressure, air conditioned air buffeted her. It felt wonderful after the hot car.

Her eyes adjusted as the door closed behind her.

She was in a simple white office.

A door at the back of the room opened, and she almost lost her nerve.

A tall brunette with pigtails stepped inside. She was wearing a red halter top and Daisy Dukes with high heeled cowboy boots.

What the fuck? Diane thought. She sure as fuck wasn't expecting this HeeHaw shit after the money she had put down.

"You must be Miss Krantz?" The smiling woman said in a thick, hillbilly accent. The woman sat down in a leather desk chair and lifted her long legs to rest her boots on the desk. "My name is Heather. I'll be taking care of you."

"I... there must be some kind of mistake." Diane said.

Heather smiled. Her jaw was bruised, and Diane saw that her ribs were black and blue from a beating. "There's no mistake. This is the farm. We've been expecting you."

Diane laughed. "Listen, I... I mean I thought this was a spa."

"Sit down, Diane. The Farm is many things. A spa, a plastic surgery center." Heather looked her slowly up and down. "A sex retreat."

There was a noise in the room - a hum. At first, Diane thought it was just the air conditioning or the lights making the sound. She looked around as she sat down in the chair in front of Heather's desk.

There were speakers in the ceiling and the soft static seemed to emanate from them.

Heather smiled. "It's white noise. Does it bother you?"

"Hmm? No... It's just..." Diane blinked. The sound wasn't annoying. As she listened to it, she became more relaxed.

"Coffee or tea?" Heather asked.

"Oh... tea."

"Sure thing. Is herbal okay?" Heather said as she stood up and leaned over a small table behind her desk.

"Y... Yes." Diane stared. Heather was absolutely gorgeous. Her heart shaped ass threatened to tear the tight Daisy Dukes open as she bent over the tea.

Diane shook her head and blinked. What was wrong with her? She had no interest in women, but here she was staring at this hillbilly skank and feeling it... down there.

Heather turned around with the cup of tea and set it in front of Diane.

Diane was mesmerized as she stared into the woman's deep cleavage. Obviously, the receptionist didn't just work at the spa, she was a client. The breasts were better than any example photos she had been shown by Manhattan's premier plastic surgeons over the years.

Heather smiled. "Thank you. I dress to be noticed, and I really appreciate it when someone does."

Diane shook herself, drawing her eyes up from the younger woman's cleavage. "I'm sorry." She blushed bright red.

Heather shook her head. "Don't be. I'm bi as well."

"Oh! I'm not! I'm not bi... not that there's anything wrong with that!" She was tongue tied and stumbling - something she never was normally.

"Drink your tea before it gets cold," Heather said as she sat back down, returning her boots to the desk.

Diane willed herself not to look at the woman's long tan legs.

The tea was warm and fragrant with just the right amount of sweetness.

Heather smiled and watched her.

"Delicious," Diane said.

"Yes. It is. Do you have a lover, Diane?"

Diane blinked. "What?"

"A lover. Do you have one?"

"I... well, no." She set the empty cup down. "That's a very invasive question..."

"When did you last have sex? Other than by yourself, I mean." Heather stared intently into her eyes.

"Six months ago..." Diane stopped herself and clenched her fists. "Wait. What? Why are you..."

"I'm checking to see if the drugs and subliminal audio are working. So far, so good."

Diane stared at her and then looked at the empty cup. "Subliminal..."

"The white noise. It's making you suggestible. Paired with the drugged tea, your will power is being submerged. Don't worry, I won't hurt you. It's not permanent, and you won't remember anything about our conversation."

It was hard to follow Heather's words, but Diane increasingly liked the woman's voice.

"You're in good hands. I used to be a Psychiatrist. Top of my class at Harvard."

Diane stared at her.

Heather laughed. "I know. The whole cowgirl thing, right? It's real. I used to ride in the rodeo - funny how people misjudge you by your dialect and interests, isn't it? I mean, I don't look like a genius doctor, do I?"

Diane shook her head.

"Now, honey, you haven't fucked in six months?"

"No."

"You poor thing. Wearing that vibrator out, huh?"

"Yes."

"It's in your purse, isn't it?"

"Yes."

She held out her hand. "Purse, please."

Diane obeyed, handing her expensive leather bag to Heather.

Heather opened it and smiled. She pulled out the thick black rubber toy. "My goodness, you like them big, huh?"

"Yes."

"Me too. My new boyfriend is hung like a Clydesdale. Not that there's anything wrong with normal sized cocks. Am I right?"

"Yes."

"Good girl. Oh, by the way, that's our favorite saying around here. It makes you happy and horny when one of the staff calls you a 'good girl'. Doesn't it, good girl?"

Diane gasped as a jolt of pleasure went through her. "Y... Yes!"

"That's right. Now, Diane, we need to do something about that silly, prudish heterosexuality you're clinging to. It's for your own good. You like girls and boys now. Say it."

"I like girls and boys."

"Oh, that's my good girl."

Diane squeezed her thighs together and whimpered.

Heather nodded. "Perfect. Now, stand up."

She obeyed, rising to her feet.

Replacing the dildo in the purse, Heather turned in her seat and put Diane's bag in a desk drawer. "Don't worry. I'll turn off your phone and charge it - after we put spy software on it, of course. For your own good. We're going to take extra special care of you from now on, Diane. We're going to make sure you are always a good girl."

"Oh! Oh, God!" A tremor of mini-orgasm went through her.

Heather laughed as she closed the desk drawer. "See? And, you were all nervous about coming here. We're just going to make you feel good for the next week. Strip, please."

Diane hurriedly began unbuttoning her silk blouse.

"No, silly! Slow. I told you, I like girls. I like to watch." Heather spread her thighs, exposing the frayed and very wet crotch of her Daisy Dukes. Her tanned pussy was easily seen around the frayed denim.

Diane gasped.

"You like to watch too, don't you?"

"Yes!" She finished unbuttoning her blouse and let it fall open, exposing her white lace bra. Her hands shook as she fumbled with the zipper in the back of her skirt, but she finally undid it and let the pencil skirt fall down her long legs to pool around her heels.

Her matching lace panties were soaked.

"Oh, my! You are very pretty, Diane."

Diane blushed. "Thank you. So are you!" She took off the blouse and folded it. She laid it on the chair behind her. Then she knelt and stepped out of the skirt, picked it up, and folded it. The skirt joined the blouse on the chair.

She stood in only her panties, bra, and heels.

"You really like being undressed in front of me, don't you, Diane?" Heather asked as she lazily fingered herself through the frayed crotch of the Daisy Dukes.

Diane's brow furrowed. She seemed to struggle. "I... No... I don't..."

"Oh, we'll have none of that, Diane! You were doing so well. Don't you want to be my good girl?"

"Oh, God!" Tears began streaming down her face.

"Don't cry. It's going to be okay. Just so long as you always, always obey. You can do that, can't you? Won't you be my... good girl?"

A little whimper came from Diane's lips and she ground her thighs together. "Yes! Yes, I will be. I want to be. I like being naked in front of you, Heather!"

"Much better, my very, very good girl."

Diane drew in a sharp breath and smiled.

"Come on. Panties and bra too. You can keep the heels until I take you back to surgery."

Diane tossed the bra onto the chair behind her and peeled the soaked panties down her legs. She stood up and smiled.

Heather was fingering herself openly, pulling the crotch of the shorts aside to allow access to her dripping pussy. White cum dribbled down from her swollen lips. "Oops! I took a very big load from my boyfriend earlier. See how pretty it is? All that cum. You like that, don't you."

Diane stared at the cream that leaked from Heather's pussy. She looked unsure.

"Diane. That wasn't actually a question..."

"Yes! Yes! I just... it's so beautiful. You're so beautiful, Heather."

The thick white cum clung to Heather's fingers. "You want to lick this, don't you."

"Would like me to?"

"Yes."

"Then yes! Please let me lick your boyfriend's cum!" She was trembling as she spoke.

Heather laughed. "Maybe in a few minutes. It will be a special treat before we take you back to surgery. A special treat for a very good girl."

"Oh, God," Diane whispered. She reached down and fingered her clit through her neatly trimmed bush.

"Diane, I love it when you play with your little cunny, but that hair is just not acceptable. Don't you have any consideration for your lovers? Nobody wants that nasty hair on you."

Diane immediately covered her pussy with both hands. She had never been so embarrassed! "I'm sorry! I'm disgusting."

Heather smiled at her. "Now, now. It's okay. You didn't know better before. I'll get rid of all that nasty hair when I take you back to surgery."

"Thank you," she whispered.

"You're welcome. Ready to answer a couple more questions?"

"Yes!"

"This one is very important, Diane. Are you a spy?"

Diane stared at her. "No."

"You don't work for any government agency? Foreign or domestic?"

"No."

"Good girl." She hooked her finger at Diane. "Come here and get your treat."

Diane ran behind the desk and dropped to her knees.

Heather put her tanned thighs on Diane's shoulders. "Eat it all up, like a good girl."

Diane sighed and lowered her lips, tasting a woman's pussy for the first time.

Heather leaned back and smiled as the hypnotized lawyer licked and sucked contentedly. She stroked Diane's sort black hair as the woman swallowed her juices mixed with Bear's.

"Mmm, such a very good girl."

***

Bear walked through the woods north of the farm.

He heard Rebecca before he saw her.

She was moaning.

He found her lying on her back on an immense boulder in the middle of a gurgling stream.

She had discarded all her clothing except for her hiking boots.

Bear smiled as he watched her.

Her legs were spread wide and she appeared to be trying to fist herself with her small left hand.

She had all four fingers inside her and was attempting to insert the thumb.

Trees overhung the boulder providing shade. Looking up, Bear saw the surveillance / aphrodisiac unit in the limbs above. A gentle mist fell from the unit onto the reclining reporter.

"There you are," Bear said from the stream bank.

Rebecca jumped, her pert breasts jiggling. She yanked her hand away from her crotch and rolled onto her stomach. "Bear! Oh, thank God!" She got shakily to her feet.

Jumping off the boulder, she landed on the bank beside him. Rebecca wrapped her arms against him and held him tight. "I was so worried."

Bear pulled her tight against him. "You were worried, huh?" He grabbed the back of her long blonde hair and bent her head back. "I doubt that. Considering you're the one who hit me in the head."

"What? No! It wasn't me. That chick in the Daisy Dukes..."

He yanked her head back hard. "Don't you fucking talk about her!"