REMEMBERING, PART 2
by Zenna
Tina Summers had known within three weeks of her marriage that it had been a mistake. One reason was discovering she had become an object of derision on the part of the secretaries at the advertising firm where both she and her husband Mitchell worked. Because they knew about his serial infidelities and she, apparently, did not.
As it happened, she was well aware of her new husband's peccadilloes. The fact of them didn't bother her. She hadn't married him for the security of a monogamous relationship. What she wanted was his money, the social status he could provide to someone from very much the wrong side of the tracks, a younger and moderately entertaining companion, and decent sex - in pretty much that order.
But what she hadn't counted on was his indiscretion. Where she had - she was pretty sure - kept a tight lid on her own casual sex encounters, Mitchell had been stupid enough not to just to nail the firm's new receptionist in his first week back from their honeymoon, but to let the little slut boast about it to her new colleagues. As a result of which, everyone was now laughing at Tina - and not being taken seriously was something she hated above all.
All that could perhaps have been borne. But then she had discovered at more or less the same time that Mitchell would be taking over one of the firm's most lucrative accounts. The one Tina had been expecting to get. The one that she was infinitely better suited to running. The one that was going to set her on an inexorable path to the top of the advertising business.
So that's when she decided that Mitchell had to go. It had taken over a year of careful planning. And even then, she reflected, it would not have been possible without the assistance of Jordan, her personal trainer. It was Jordan's brother Anton who had supplied the key contacts - and played such a vital role in making sure that Mitchell did not resurface after his disappearance.
Tina shook her head as she thought about Anton. He was such a liability - a dangerous and unpredictable lowlife who might be one temper tantrum away from landing in police custody. And if that happened, who could know what he might be prepared to blab about, to save his own skin?
As far as she was concerned, Anton had well and truly outlived his usefulness. If she was free to do so, she would probably have disposed of him too - though for obvious physical reasons she would have had to find a different method. But that wouldn't do - Jordan would never have agreed to it. The same Jordan who, as Tina was reflecting on all this, was currently between her legs reinforcing what Tina considered to be the most important aspect of their relationship - an unrivalled expertise in the art of cunnilingus. Tina reached down to ruffle her partner's close cropped hair and sighed with pleasure as she felt the familiar tongue probing every nook and cranny of her dripping wet pussy.
No, Anton would have to stay around. Jordan was simply too important to her. And Anton was at least a source of good entertainment. She thought about the most recent video he had sent her of him imposing his inimitable form of discipline on Bianca. She replayed the scene now in her mind, watching as Anton made the platinum blonde kneel in front of him, her huge tits spilling out of her ridiculously small top and her mouth held open obediently.
He alternately stuffed his monster cock between her collagen-enhanced lips and used it to slap her in the face, all the while telling her what a worthless slut she was. That incredible tool of his! It really was something. Tina had only ever played with it herself once, on an occasion that ended up being memorable for other reasons as well. She had quite enjoyed the challenge of accommodating Anton's great length, and her (single) climax had been perfectly satisfactory. But she hadn't wanted to repeat the experience. She liked to be in control - and that was hard to do with someone built on his scale and seemingly capable of splitting her in two.
Still, the sadist in her (which was never very far from the surface) enjoyed seeing him impose his will on helpless bimbos. She had watched, enthralled, as he had bent Bianca over a chair and fucked her with tremendous energy, then insisted on coming all over her face. The recollection of the abject expression on Bianca's cum-spattered features, combined with Jordan's skilful tongue, sent Tina over the edge into what she knew was going to be just the first of many orgasms ...
After they had showered, and Jordan had headed back to the gym, Tina looked at herself in the mirror. Thanks in part to Jordan's efforts, both in and out of bed, she was in great shape for her age (late thirties to anyone who asked, unless they had known her before she had belatedly completed her education and leapt up the social ladder through sheer force of will, in which case she might admit to 44). She had clear skin, small breasts that still tilted up, and lustrous chestnut hair that she spent a fortune on maintaining. Not bad, she thought, not bad at all.
Her satisfied smile slipped away though as she pondered whether to give Anton another call. He had told her about Bianca asking whether he knew a Tina. That was surely not a coincidence, they both agreed. They had been warned right from the outset that the conditioning might wear off a little and that Bianca could regain fragments of memory of her former life. It seemed that might be happening now. Where they differed was on what to do about it.
Anton was confident that even if Bianca's conditioning could not be reinforced with some extra levels of disparagement and humiliation, there was nothing she could do about her situation. She had no money, no friends and no real sense of initiative. But Tina worried about what Bianca might unwittingly reveal to someone else ...
She wasn't to know it then, but the someone else was at that very moment ringing her secretary to make an appointment with her, under the pretext of discussing a lucrative new project. Tina only realised something was wrong when she walked into her favourite restaurant two days later to find someone very different to the lunch guest she'd been expecting.
"Hello Mrs Summers, I'm Lucinda Mullins", said the young redhead who was seated at her table. "But you can call me Cindy." She was good-looking, but her clothes were both cheaper and a lot more revealing than those of the restaurant's usual clientele, and her eyes had both a hardness and a wariness that suggested a far from easy life. The kind of life Tina herself could still vividly recall escaping from.
"That's nice", she said, pointedly not taking a seat. "You can call me Mrs Summers. And also tell me what the hell you're doing here. I don't recall contacting an escort agency."
Cindy's eyes opened wide, but she recovered quickly. "You're very observant. But I think you should sit down. We need to have a chat about Bianca. Or rather what you did to make her the way she is. You and that creep Anton. Or, I can take a walk down to the police station. Which would you prefer? Oh, and you're paying for lunch, by the way."
For a moment, Tina debated calling the hooker's bluff. But then she decided it might be a good idea to find out just how much the redhead knew. "Okay", she said, sinking into a chair, "suppose you tell me how you come to know Bianca".
In between visits from a waiter, Cindy proceeded to explain how she had met the blonde transsexual, the opportunity they had to work together, and her shock at discovering both how Bianca was being treated by Anton, and the strange gaps in her new friend's memory.
"And all this has what to do with me, exactly?" asked Tina coolly.
"Oh come on", replied Cindy in an exasperated tone. "She remembers a Tina, and finds your number in the phone of the guy who's pretty much keeping her captive. She can even recall you and the thug fucking right in front of her - or should I say in front of 'him'? Because she was a man then, correct?" Tina stared at her for a few seconds and then gave a curt nod. "So why you don't tell me how it happened?" demanded Cindy.
"Okay", said the older woman, "but show me first you don't have a recording device on you. I'm not having this on tape."
Cindy rolled her eyes but stood up and patted down her skimpy outfit to make it clear she wasn't hiding anything, as well as opening her bag for inspection. "Satisfied?" Tina nodded, reflecting that the young hooker really did have a good body. It wasn't a surprise that men were prepared to pay to enjoy it - and quite a lot too, if what she said about her new business was true.
"So?" prompted Cindy, after she had sat back down. Tina took a deep breath. "There's not much to tell, really - or nothing you probably haven't already figured out. There's a clinic that specialises in, shall we say, not entirely voluntary sex changes. Their main business is converting pretty young men who've been trafficked here from overseas and who their owners think can make more as a tranny than as a male escort. But if you pay them enough, they'll do just about anybody. Anton put me onto them, he's got t-girls from them before."
Cindy pursed her lips. "Yeah, I've heard talk about that place. But how did they, like, stop Bianca remembering her previous life? His, I mean."
Tina took a sip of wine. "Oh that was someone different, a doctor who messes around with some, what's the phrase? Oh yeah, fucked up shit. Experimental treatments. He used some kind of mixture of hypnosis and drugs to suppress her memories. Plus he implanted the idea that she's just a worthless whore. Makes her a lot easier to control - with the added bonus that it keeps the bitch completely miserable."
Cindy was clearly infuriated by this information, but fought to keep her voice level as she asked: "So is any of this, you know, reversible?"
Tina shrugged. "Some of it, I guess, but not all. As far as the physical stuff goes, we let her keep her balls, but that little cock is never going to work properly again - not without very expensive surgery anyway. Her tits and ass could be downsized, hips narrowed, the voice dropped a little. But she's never going to be a real man again."
"And her memories? The personality changes?"
"I gather her brain's been fried enough that she'll never be likely to get it all back. If she doesn't take any more of the drugs Anton's been feeding her, and there's no more conditioning, she could recover a bit of, you know, self-esteem. Maybe even some sex drive. But she'll never get back to who she was. Fortunately."
Cindy shook her head in astonishment. "Okay, so that's the what. But you haven't told me the why. What on earth would make you treat your husband that way? I mean, not just turning him into a woman, but those ridiculous boobs, putting him on the street ..."
Tina looked taken aback. "My what?"
"Your husband - Mitchell Summers. Why would you want to humiliate him like -" She broke off as Tina let out a peal of laughter so loud that many of the diners around them turned to look at their table. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" hissed Cindy.
Tina shook her head, her face still creased in a grin that mixed amusement and malice. "You think Bianca was my husband?" she asked, not even attempting to mask her incredulity.
"Well, yes" answered the redhead, "of course. I mean, he disappeared last year, right? Are you saying that you didn't turn him into Bianca?"
"Nope", answered the older woman. "Oh, I certainly had him, what's the word, feminised? Yes. At the same place that did Bianca. But he was far too dangerous to keep around. So he's somewhere else."
"Somewhere else?" asked Cindy weakly.
"Somewhere in the Middle East, with whatever sultan it was who bought him. I'm not sure exactly where. Anton's got the details, he has connections there, stays in contact with them, to make sure Mitchell's not going to escape. But from what I gather, there's little chance of that."
"You sold your husband to a sultan? As a sex slave?" The young hooker looked thunderstruck.
"As a wife, actually", answered Tina with a satisfied grin. "One of about fifty, I believe. They have pretty flexible laws over there. And I gather the sultan likes his brides to have a mixture of, ah, capabilities. I got a very good price. Even after paying the cost of his operations, I turned a tidy profit."
"O-kay", said Cindy slowly, trying to regain her equanimity. "So if she isn't Mitchell, then who the fuck is Bianca? Or who was she, I should say."
Tina's smile faded. She hesitated, then said quietly: "I can't tell you." She held up a hand to forestall Cindy's objection. "Yet. There's ... someone else I need to talk to first. If you give me your number I'll get in touch in the next few days."
The redhead bit her lip. "All right", she said eventually. "But you'd better not send that nasty motherfucker Anton anywhere near me. Or Bianca. I've got friends who are just as big and mean as he is, only they tend to treat their girls a lot more gently. If I pass round the word about what he's been up to with poor Bianca, I'm sure they'll be only too happy to give him some of his own medicine."
"Friends?" sneered Tina. "You mean former employers, don't you?" Cindy didn't rise to the bait, but just stared back defiantly. The older woman threw up her hands. "Fine. Anton stays on the leash."
"And you won't find Bianca at that hovel he's been keeping her in either", put in the younger woman. "She's gonna stay with me, at least until she gets on her feet, understood?"
"Fine", repeated Tina. "Just look out for a message. And don't do anything stupid in the meantime." Cindy nodded, stood up and left without another word, leaving her food barely touched. Tina shook her head in exasperation, then reached for her phone ...
It was three days later that Cindy got the text: "Sunday 8pm. Bring Bianca. I have a job for the two of you. You do that, then questions answered." The message went on to give an address, and quote a sizeable fee.
Cindy wondered what the nasty cow was playing at. She also debated whether she should go on her own. But eventually she decided that if anything bad was going to happen to the two of them, it would be better to face it together. Besides, she had the distinct sense that Tina was a businesswoman - and that she would look to find a commercial solution to the problem presented by Bianca's returning memory and Cindy's intervention on her behalf.
Not that Bianca could remember much. A few days away from Anton, from streetwalking and from that prison cell of an apartment, coupled with the most food and sleep she'd had in a long while - all that had made a noticeable difference to her physical health. But she was still far too down on herself, and distressed at how little she could recall of her previous life. She'd thought for a brief period that she must be Mitchell Summers. But if Tina was to be believed, she was someone else entirely. But who?
The rest of the week seemed to drag by, although Cindy spent as much time as she could with the blonde transsexual. Finally, however, the two of them arrived at an apartment block not far from the centre of town. Cindy wondered who they were going to visit - this certainly wasn't where Tina lived. Under their long coats she and Bianca were both dressed very much for work, in matching red lingerie.
They found the right apartment and rang the bell. The door opened to reveal Tina. She was wearing a translucent robe - and nothing underneath.
"And here was I thinking you'd hired us for someone else", said Cindy drily. Tina laughed. "I did - but it's for me as well." Reaching forward, she unbuttoned the hooker's coat and made an appreciative noise. "Very nice indeed." She turned to the other new arrival. "Bianca! We haven't actually met since your, ah, procedure. First time I've seen you in the flesh. Speaking of which ... ?"
Bianca glanced warily at Cindy and, when the redhead nodded, opened her own coat. "My goodness. They're quite something, aren't they?" Tina didn't need to explain what "they" were. "And the same underwear too. Very cute. Well, you'd better come inside before one of the neighbours sees you and goes into meltdown."
She ushered them into a small but neatly appointed living room. Cindy glanced around, but there was nobody else in sight. "So what's this about, Tina?" she asked with a hint of exasperation. "I thought you were going to give us some answers?"
"And you'll have them", replied the older woman. "We'll explain everything. But the condition is that you do your job first. We are paying for your time, after all. Well, I am, anyway."
"So who's we?" asked Cindy. In response, Tina walked over to what could only be the bedroom door and opened it. A tall, athletic figure emerged, like her clad only in a robe. "Meet Jordan", said Tina, "my personal trainer - and more than occasional bedmate."
Something made Cindy glance sideways at her friend, who was staring at the new arrival with her mouth hanging open. "Of course Bianca", Tina continued, "you might know Jordan better as ... your wife."
Jordan ran a hand over her short, wiry black hair and gave a sardonic laugh. "Well, this is awkward ..."
(To be continued)
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xoxo Zenna