nineteen

  [20 august 2024]=-=[tuesday]=-=(1337)

  Morgan is looking over a bunch of files in a folder as she sips a peach Monster. She’s fallen in love with those fvored zero sugar energy drinks since becoming a woman. They definitely taste better than the normal ones.

  Ever since Jason Levin was killed, Joshua Callis has abandoned his South American vil and he’s been in the wind. So have many of the Starscape operatives. Kelly’s people are trying to find him. Everyone here knows that Morgan wants revenge on the man who she was forcibly married to, who she was brainwashed to love, to believe the many rapes were just the normal lovemaking between spouses.

  It still hurts her to think about. Even after the ECT sessions, a tiny part of her is still in a twisted sense of love with him, craving the abuse, and she continually tamps it down. Every day that she’s done her target practice since her rescue, she’s taped a picture of the man’s face to the target. She never misses.

  So far, there isn’t much here that is helpful. He’s been seen in Moscow, Minsk, Tokyo, Hong Kong, Dubai, and a few other areas where he can easily blend into the crowd, or pces where Kelly can’t easily send her mercenaries, but he hasn’t been to the USA or Canada. He’s most likely looking for pces where he can set up shop. Rumor is that Levin named Callis in his will to inherit his fortune, since he had no heirs after his child disowned him, and he was “married” to Morgan, his st stolen “child.” There’s no intel on if he’s been traveling with anyone, so it’s not known whether he’s taken a new boy, or whether he’s holding on to the hope he can capture Morgan again.

  There are others besides Callis out there trying to take over Levin’s pce in the sexual svery cabal, but Callis has the advantage of having no children or siblings (that he cares for the welfare of) that his rivals can steal and use as leverage. Morgan doesn’t really care about those others right now. Delih is being trained to take care of them.

  All she cares about is ending Callis and ensuring he can’t destroy anyone else like her – or his own sister.

  There’s a knock on the door. “Madame? Lunch is here,” Amélie calls from outside.

  “It’s open,” Morgan says as she shuts the folder. She’s wearing camoufge cargo pants and a sarashi, so she’s technically decent.

  Amélie lets herself in, carrying a tray with a pte of food on it. There’s a ham and cheese sandwich with a fried egg on it, along with a rge mug of tea. “Croque Madame, and tea for you,” she says as she sets the pte down on the table nearest Morgan. “...What are you reading?” she asks, noticing the folder.

  “Work stuff,” Morgan replies as she looks over the food. There’s a fork and knife on the pte. “This looks interesting. They’re letting you cook again?”

  “Non,” Amélie says, looking slightly ashamed. “I am disobeying orders so that I can obey orders. I cannot not serve.”

  Morgan nods. Kelly has been lessening what duties Amélie has been allowed to take on, trying to wean her off of her brainwashing. On the one hand, it drove her to disobey an order. On the other, it was unfortunately Kelly’s order that was disobeyed, not the brainwashing. It may well be too entrenched. “Have you ever thought about what it might be like to not have to be a maid?” she asks.

  “Non!” Amélie says, looking terrified at the prospect. “Without my service, I am nothing. Less than nothing!” she protests. “I would die!”

  “It can’t be that bad, can it?” Morgan asks as she cuts a piece off of the sandwich with the knife and stabs at it with the fork.

  “It would!” Amélie protests. “Unfortunately, I have nothing left to do for the day, unless… Madame, may I service you?” she asks.

  “I don’t really need anything done…” Morgan says, confused.

  “You appear tense…” Amélie says as she walks a little closer. “I could… I could relieve it?” she says as she reaches for Morgan’s waistband.

  Morgan grabs Amélie’s wrist gently, but firmly, stopping her from attempting to lower her pants. “Amélie, non,” she says. “Raina et Ma?tresse n'approuveraient pas.” Raina and Mistress would not approve.

  “Je suis désolé, pardonne-moi!” Amélie cries, tears streaming down her face. I’m sorry, forgive me! “I did not mean to…”

  “I know you didn’t, chère,” Morgan says. “It’s the brainwashing that drove you to try to do that. You can’t keep going like this.”

  “I do not know what to do, madame,” Amélie says, looking very sad. “I… I know I need help. I do not know where to get it from.”

  “Yeah, that’s a concern around here. Come here.” Morgan takes Amélie into a hug. “I know how hard it is. To be compelled to obey some invisible force pnted in your own head, and you can’t possibly refuse it. You try, but fail, then you try to work around it, and you feel proud when you do, but you’re not really defeating the problem that’s really facing you. You’re just kind of kicking the can down the road with it. Eventually you get tired and just start letting it pull the strings… and you let that force take you and use you, and you have no say…”

  “Madame?” Amélie asks, confused.

  “Sorry, chère. My mind went back to when Levin brainwashed me to be a submissive wife to that bastard Callis…” Morgan says. “I’m still not over it. There’s… there’s a part of me that wants to let the brainwashing win, even though I’ve quieted it to nothing and don’t let it control me anymore. A tiny little shred of me that wants to be his wife, doing his domestic chores as I endure his twisted idea of ‘love.’ I don’t know if it’ll ever truly go away. The same goes for the things you’re compelled to do. But overcoming it can be enough, even if you have to continually overcome it every day, every hour, every minute for the rest of your life.”

  “It sounds like hell,” Amélie says. “I do not know if I am strong enough to.”

  “You’re asking yourself if it’s a possibility. If you weren’t strong enough, you wouldn’t even be able to ask those questions,” Morgan says.

  --={@~~~@}=--

  [21 august 2024]=-=[wednesday]=-=(0805)

  The therapist that Kelly has commissioned to come in to talk to the former captives has finally arrived. Finding one with the qualifications needed was the easy part. There are lots of trauma therapists out there, it’s a very fucked up world, after all. The difficult part was finding one who was very competent, and who considered confidentiality to be a concept worth defying everything else for. And who wouldn’t immediately run to the police after hearing the captives talk for five minutes.

  Luckily, when you have enough money, you just need to ensure the existence of what you want. What she got was a hyper-competent, very sympathetic recent psych graduate who cared more about social justice than the w, that being Vera Garnd. The only hard part was convincing her to move all the way from Vermont. It took subsidizing the move across the country for her and her four cats, and paying for her apartment for five years in advance for Vera to pull the trigger and move.

  She’s been given an office in the first floor of the basement, in a vacant room near the infirmary.

  Today, her first patient is Oleg. In his time recovering so far, he’s started to study intensely so that he can understand enough English so that he can carry on a basic conversation, and he’s managed it. He’s rgely started to present more masculine again, shaving his head down to a military-style buzzcut and wearing masculine-style clothing. He’s binding for now while his body heals and bulks back up enough to be able to withstand full top surgery. He’s restarted testosterone to help with his mind and his ability to regain lost muscle mass. He unfortunately lost his ability to walk while in captivity, and while he is working at relearning it, he needs a wheelchair to get around the basement for now.

  As he wheels himself into Vera’s office, he’s surprised at it. The décor is feminine, of course, considering the primary occupant, but not ridiculously so. There are a lot of indoor pnts.

  Vera sits in a rge easy chair near a desk, with a ptop next to her. “Hello,” she says.

  “Sorry am te,” Oleg says. Since he was expected to be a mute doll by his future buyer, Levin didn’t bother giving him vocal feminization surgery. Thus, he still has his male voice, and he’s using it. “It is taking time to get used to the chair as I get my weight back.”

  “No, that’s completely understandable,” Vera says, smiling. “I’m just gd you were able to make it. Are you sure you don’t want a transtor?”

  Oleg shakes his head. “The hell I endured, I’ll tell you. But I want no one else hearing. I am angry and shamed.”

  Vera nods. “Can you get over to the couch, or do you want to stay in the chair?”

  “I can get over myself,” Oleg says as he wheels to the couch and lifts his body out of the chair. He gets onto his feet, but he is very wobbly. He manages to turn around before his legs give out and he falls onto the couch. “It is frustrating, being helpless. I will never be helpless again.”

  “I understand. So… wherever you’d like to begin,” Vera says as she starts to type notes on the ptop.

  “I was at home in eastern Ukraine, near the border, helping Mother when the soldiers came…” Oleg starts to say. “One day everything was peaceful, and the next, the soldiers said we were Russian now. Many resisted. Few survived. Some wish they had not. I was one who tried to resist.” He looks down and takes a deep breath. “I wished I had not survived but a soldier said he liked my spirit. He said he knew a man who would break it. He took me away into Russia to meet an American. The two talked in English for a while as I was chained in his truck like prisoner. Then there was a pinch, and I slept.”

  Vera simply types up her notes. She won’t interrupt unless it seems that Oleg needs it.

  “I woke up in a cage. A cell. The American was there. He had started to change me into… into girl. No. Worse than girl. I tried to ask what he did, and he beat me over and over. I was still bound and drugged. I could not fight. In Russian, he tells me not to speak. Never to speak again. Good dolls do not speak; they just occasionally make noise for Master when pyed with. That if I couldn’t be good doll, he would take my voice.”

  “That sounds… that’s beyond inhumane,” Vera says softly, as she wonders just what the fuck she signed up for.

  “After while, he releases me from binds,” Oleg continues. “I try to move. He beats me. Tells me good dolls don’t move. Threatens to paralyze me below neck. I get point and obey even though I don’t want to. I don’t speak. I don’t move except when moved. Am good doll like he wants. All that keeps me going is wishing to kill him. Him and the soldier.”

  “How long did this st?” Vera asks, horrified.

  “Weeks. Months. Years, in the end. No concept of time in there,” Oleg says. “Eventually just gave up. Listen for order, follow order. Soldier says eat. I eat. Soldier says drink. I drink. Soldier lifts me onto toilet and says to shit. I shit. Hate keeps me going but barely. Then American girl comes to rescue. Am thankful but don’t understand. Can’t thank. Can’t cry. Must be good doll. Must be good doll,” Oleg says as he starts to sob. “I finally get here and hear doctor speak my nguage. It clicks. Am really free. But not free. Body is prison now. Could not move.”

  Vera is shaken by all that she’s heard, but she tries to press on. “So, what will you do now?”

  “That is… what is saying? Million-dolr question,” Oleg says. “Get as much manhood back as I can. Probably see if my parents survived. See if they still want me like this. Help fight back in homend. Can’t sit still. Can’t be helpless. If American girl can fight, I can fight.”

  --={@~~~@}=--

  (2226)

  Danni is relentlessly pounding Morgan’s ass with the strap, while Raina is suckling at her breasts. Normally, this is enough to turn Morgan on to insane levels, but tonight she doesn’t seem enthusiastic about it. She’s almost listless.

  Danni notices this and stops her thrusting, leaving the dildo buried deep in her ass. “Little girl?” she asks. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing…” Morgan says.

  “It’s not nothing,” Danni says as she looks to Raina. “Lay off for a moment, please. I think she needs a talk.” She unbuckles the strap from herself, leaving the dildo itself inside Morgan as she lifts her up into a seated position. “Talk to me. You’re normally beyond enthusiastic when we do this.”

  “I… am I really making a difference?” Morgan asks as Raina sits beside her. “I saw the intel. Killing Levin did nothing to the svery ring. Callis is filling the void. There are still going to be boys and girls being mutited and brainwashed into being whatever the imaginations of these sick fucks dictate.

  “My brother’s taking all that over?” Raina asks, shocked.

  “Hard to believe, but yeah,” Danni says. “The intel says that Levin put Joshua in the will after he tried to brainwash Morgan into believing she was his child, and then ‘married’ her off to him.”

  “That’s… convoluted…” Raina says.

  “It makes sense,” Morgan says. “In his twisted mind, Joshua was as close to a male heir as he’d ever get. But… a part of me had hoped that things would start falling apart with Jason dead…”

  “This operation is going to take a long time to break down,” Danni says. “You’ve done a lot, even if it feels like a little. Without you, those five you rescued would be off to their new lives by now, and not in a good way. They have a chance at free lives now.”

  “Yeah, but… there’s still more of them suffering out there that we may never find. How is that fair?” Morgan asks.

  “It isn’t,” Danni says. “And more are being added to that number every day by these bastards. Maybe all we can do is stem the tide a little bit. Maybe most of them that have gone through this are well and truly fucked. Maybe we can’t save everyone. That doesn’t mean we stop.”

  “Mistress, I…” Morgan starts to say.

  “We do what we must to complete the mission. Even if the mission is hopeless. Especially if it never ends. Do you understand me, soldier?” Danni asks.

  “Yes, Mistress…” Morgan says, softly.

  “I can’t hear you, little girl!” Danni says, more forcefully.

  “Yes, Mistress!” Morgan says, louder, as if she were back in the Army, being addressed by a superior. She then ponders for a moment and ughs.

  “What, little girl?” Danni asks.

  “You’ve got me in soldier mode while I have a nine-inch-long rubber dick up my ass and I can’t help but find it hirious on some level…” Morgan says, smiling a little.

  “That’s better. Ready to finish the job?” Danni says, smirking.

  “Yes, Mistress!” Morgan and Raina both say, as Danni hooks the strap back to herself and Raina resumes sucking on Morgan’s tits.

  --={@~~~@}=--

  [22 august 2024]=-=[thursday]=-=(0958)

  Jeri walks down the corridor to Vera’s office. Ever since she went off on Kelly and Danni a week ago, her perceptions of everything have been completely shattered. She’s mostly stayed in her room, only emerging to grab a meal a day and to do this.

  She’s completely avoided Kelly, Danni, and Morgan since she attempted to read the former pair the Riot Act, only to see why this operation existed, and just who Morgan used to be before she was turned into Danni’s asset.

  She hasn’t talked to Evan either, and she just hasn’t had much occasion to talk to Oleg… though she certainly wants to. She’s seen him a couple of times and she starts feeling warmth between her legs when she does. Despite the fact that he hasn’t been restored fully to masculinity, he’s trying, a lot farther along than Evan, and that in itself is turning her on. As far as regur conversation goes, Bke and Amélie are the only ones she really has had any conversation with.

  She knocks on the door and enters the office.

  “Hello, Jeri,” Vera says as she opens a new text file on her computer.

  “I… I don’t know where to start, Ms. Garnd…” Jeri says, nervous, as she sits on the couch.

  “You can call me Vera,” she says, smiling. “And you don’t need to be nervous with me. I’m not here to judge you. I’m just here to help you work through whatever is messing with your mind.”

  “That doesn’t help me with where to start…” Jeri says, sighing.

  “How about before you were captured?” Vera suggests.

  “There’s not really much to tell there…” Jeri says. “My parents weren’t rich or poor, they weren’t nobodies, but they didn’t have a ton of influence… we all just kind of existed. We were in central Pennsylvania, near York, and… I don’t know why me, you know? I wasn’t remarkable. My grades were passable but not great, I was probably going to end up taking up a trade once I got out of high school. I never had a girlfriend… now I know why, but I didn’t then… I was kind of waiting for life to find me, you know?”

  “Yeah, I can kind of understand that feeling. But obviously someone saw something in you that they wanted to twist, corrupt, and pervert to their own ends…” Vera says as she writes.

  “I guess so… one weekend in January, I went down to the supermarket to grab a hoagie and a bottle of kombucha for lunch. There was a guy that kind of did a double-take at me and got on his phone. I didn’t really think of it, even though he was following me. I got out without incident; he walked over to his Rolls as I caught a bus. So, I went back the following week. I got my usual, paid for it, left, I was headed to the bus stop, and… and everything went bck, I guess.

  “When I woke up, I didn’t recognize myself. I mean, I had breasts, I had a vagina, my voice was higher-pitched, there was no body hair except for a little down there, and… and… I didn’t agonize over it. That part felt right to me, or at least not wrong. But then the guy Morgan killed walked in, gloating, like turning me into a girl was some big gotcha. He showed me myself in a mirror, and… and I looked like a pop star, kinda. Probably way cuter than I’d ever have been if I’d waited and transitioned on my own a few years down the line. Too bad I couldn’t carry a tune if you gave me a bucket…”

  “And you didn’t recognize that you might be trans at that point?” Vera asks.

  “Not really… once the guy mentioned obedience training, I was solely focused on trying to keep my head and getting the hell out of there,” Jeri says. “I never even thought about a female name until I got here. Luckily, Hurricane Morgan hit the pce and sent everything into chaos.”

  “Interesting…” Vera says. Jeri seems very level-headed on the surface, but it feels like she’s avoiding something that’s tearing at her inside. “Tell me about the kill.”

  Jeri looks stunned. “...How did you…”

  Vera stops typing for a moment. There’s the response she was looking for. “It was in the records I read when I got here.”

  “I… it made me feel conflicted…” Jeri says. “I don’t like violence, or any kind of conflict. I can see where it’s useful sometimes, don’t get me wrong… but I still felt ill after I pulled the trigger. And then I saw Morgan firing away as if this was just another day to her… it… I knew I had to keep going, because she was counting on me, just as we were all counting on her.”

  “Indeed,” Vera says as she types. “But you never really got around to processing it.”

  “No… after we got out and were being driven out of Russia, I was more confused about why Evan was freaking out so much, and the rest of us were so calm, despite the fact that we were all in the same spot…” Jeri says softly. “We’d all suffered the same horrific viotions to our bodies, some to our minds as well, and had our fates forever altered. I didn’t really get to thinking about the kill again until we got here.”

  “I imagine once you got a chance to process things, it really started affecting you,” Vera surmises.

  “Yeah… Morgan tried to tell me that the way I felt was completely normal and healthy, but now… I don’t know if I can trust anything she ever told me,” Jeri says, crossing her right arm under her chest and grabbing her left bicep with her hand. “I don’t know that I can trust any of them…”

  “What did she tell you, though?” Vera asks.

  “I said I felt guilty, and she said that’s exactly how I should feel. It means I’m less likely to ever do it again unless I really have to,” Jeri says.

  “She was right,” Vera confirms. “A killer who feels remorse is less likely to ever do it again. I think you were pced in an extraordinary situation, you did what you had to do to survive and protect everyone else, and you’re processing it appropriately.”

  “That may be true, but… I still can’t trust that she really meant it, considering how toxic and violent she used to be before her changes…” Jeri states.

  “But she isn’t that person anymore,” Vera says. “Without saying anything that I can’t repeat due to privilege, there’s no trace of the old person inside her.”

  “…Because Danni and Mrs. Jourgensen brainwashed her…” Jeri says. “…I called them monsters…”

  “Mrs. Jourgensen might actually agree with you there,” Vera says as she stops typing again. “She beats herself up over everything she’s done. A lot.”

  “I know… now… she showed me Levin’s file on her son… her daughter now…” Jeri says softly. “To be honest, if it were my child… I might go to the same extremes. I hope I never have to find out. I mean, I can’t have children now thanks to Levin, but… I want to adopt in the future. Maybe after I start a career that has flexible time requirements, and I find a man that I could see spending my life with.”

  “It sounds like you’re already showing a very mature way of looking at things,” Vera says.

  “I guess… I mean… Christ, I’m only nineteen…” Jeri says as tears start to stream from her eyes. “I should be thinking about different stuff. I shouldn’t be this grown-up yet.”

  “Trauma has a way of aging the soul,” Vera expins. “It may not feel like it, but you still have plenty of time before you have to completely grow up, especially with everything you’ve endured.”

  “I guess…” Jeri says, letting her words trail off. She was looking for answers, and while she got some, she got some more questions to go with them.

  --={@~~~@}=--

  (1152)

  Jeri leaves therapy and goes to grab some lunch. Vera gave her a lot to consider. Perhaps she jumped to conclusions far too quickly. Her response would have been completely appropriate under normal circumstances, but there is nothing about the circumstances of anyone here that can be described as anything remotely simir to “normal.”

  As she grabs a bowl of soup and a chef sad, she sees Oleg, in his wheelchair. “Oh… I’m sorry, am I in your way?” she asks him, suddenly nervous. There are those warm feelings again. She feels a little dampness too… she’s fucking aroused!

  Oleg shakes his head as he has a pte with a burger on it sitting on his p. With his breasts bound nearly ft, that buzzed hair, and the clothing he chose… he looks like a man. He sounds like a man due to the ck of vocal surgery. “You are alright…” he says, looking up at Jeri. She is fucking gorgeous to him, despite the fact that she didn’t really dress up much. “Forgive me, I am still learning nguage… you look very nice.”

  Jeri blushes a little. “Th-thank you…” she says, not knowing how to react. She’s getting positive attention from a boy that she likes.

  “Perhaps I might like to spend time with you ter if you want. A movie, perhaps. Not much to do down here, but…” Oleg says. He appears confident, but he’s a bit nervous, too.

  “...I’d like that, it would break up the monotony…” Jeri says in a very demure fashion.

  “I am gd,” Oleg says, smiling. “Tomorrow night after PT?”

  “It’s a date…” Jeri says, before catching herself. “Ah, I mean…”

  “No, it is okay,” Oleg says. “A date. I will be ready.” He rolls away with his food.

  Jeri remains standing there, blushing for a few moments. “…It’s a date…” she says softly. “...It’s a date, and I’m the girl, holy shit!” Warm feelings surge through her body. It feels so right. She’s practically euphoric.

  As she sits down to eat, she sees a familiar girl sitting alone at one of the tables, eating a very light lunch, like she’s trying to watch her figure or something. “Bke?” she asks. “Are you okay?”

  “Huh?” The girl looks back at Jeri. She looks like Bke. She sounds like Bke.

  She’s not Bke.

  “...Evan?! Evan, no…” Jeri says, stunned. He… he isn’t… he… he is…

  “I’m not Evan,” the girl replies with a slight, forced smile. “My name’s Tiffany.”