Date: Tue, 7 Jan 2020 11:36:18 +1030
From: Zenna Swallows <zennaswallows@gmail.com>
Subject: Remembering, Part 2 (TG Authoritarian)

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*