Transformations - Return to Sinful Suburbia Ch. 05

"Yes. A nun of yours. A Sister Elizabeth. She attacked me with a knife and my Brittney accidentally killed her while defending me."

"Tragic," Sister said. Her huge black eyes were inscrutable. "She was a difficult case. Styx made errors before his death - Elizabeth was one of those errors. She was brought over unwillingly. Poor thing never quite adapted."

"Unfortunately, her death was unavoidable."

Sister nodded. "Rather bold of you to expel my Bishop and his staff from New York. I did not agree to that."

"A command decision, Sister. He overstepped in torturing my people. A statement had to be made; otherwise, my leadership of Whore Caste could be questioned. Surely, you don't want a rebellion among my people?"

Sister smiled. "Of course not, Mistress Marapova. The removal of Church personnel was warranted... even if you neglected to secure my permission. You will now be taking over Leviathan's mission."

"Mission?"

"The investigation into Bishop Styx's murder. It is now in your hands."

"I see. I will endeavor to find..."

"Yes," Sister said. "I expect a head on a spike within six months. You will deliver the conspirators in that time, or... I'm afraid I will have to personally investigate."

Maria nodded. "Of course. I will bring the guilty parties to justice."

"See that you do. I would start with this Madison Fuchs woman - Leviathan is adamant that she is leading some sort of underground railroad for the immune... a 'resistance'?"

Maria laughed. "Leviathan is a fool, Sister."

"Really? What makes you so sure?"

"Madison Fuchs is my agent. She was following Styx that night on my orders. The phone call she made was to me, after she found Styx dead."

"Why were you following Styx?" Sister asked.

Maria smiled. "I am a cautious woman, Sister. I suspect everyone of everything at all times."

Sister returned the smile. "As do I. You may go, Mistress Marapova."

Maria nodded. "Sister." She turned to leave.

"Oh, by the way. My understanding is that the MILF Whore program is a complete success?"

Maria smiled. "Indeed, it is. We are ready to begin operations immediately."

"In that case, I think we should begin Phase II immediately. Set loose the hounds of war, Mistress Marapova. Let the transformation of humanity begin."

***

Stacie stood behind a podium in a private hangar at Ithaca Airport.

A crowd of MILF Whores waited in front of several waiting Church LearJets.

Carrie and Sugar Tits stood to the left of Stacie, with Christine and Margaret to her right.

"Tonight," Stacie said into the microphone. "The conquest of the United States begins. These jets are waiting to transfer you to Laguardia Airport, and, from there, to suburbs all over the country. Your homes are waiting for you in the suburbs of Los Angeles, Chicago, Atlanta, Dallas - every major city in the United States. You are warriors on a sacred mission: seduce everyone you meet, pervert them, save them from the chains of society. At the same time, all over the country, your brothers and sisters in Whore Caste are carrying out their own missions. Our goal is: bring them to the Church and save the world."

The hangar was lit by the blue eyes of the MILFs as they clapped and cheered before boarding the planes.

***

Jeffrey stepped out of the cab in Greenwich Village and smiled. It wasn't how he imagined arriving here. Everything was different now. He was different.

No.

She was different. She had to keep reminding herself that she was no longer Jeffrey. Now she was Freya.

A man whistled at her and she winked.

She was wearing a black silk mini dress that barely fell low enough on her thighs to hide the Futanari cock.

Half the men looking at her thought she was a tranny, half thought she was a real girl.

All wanted her.

She licked her fangs.

Betty got out of the cab, tugging down her own mini dress, this one in fire red.

She got the same stares.

Freya took her hand and together they walked toward their brothel.

***

Carrie knocked on the door to her old room in the McGee house.

"Why are you knocking?" Elizabeth hissed from the other side of the door.

"I'm being polite."

"Fuck you, whore."

Carrie rolled her eyes and opened the door.

Elizabeth was naked with a strong collar around her neck attached by a chain to the bedframe.

She had written all over herself with a black magic marker: WHORE, CUMDUMP, SATAN'S SLUT, CUNT, and a hundred other vulgarities.

"Very dramatic," Carrie said as she laid Elizabeth's meal tray on the girl's dresser.

Elizabeth grabbed the magic marker from her nightstand and threw it at Carrie.

A foot from her face, the magic marker curved away and clattered across the floor.

Carrie raised her eyebrow. "Don't you ever get tired of that game?"

"I wish I had a fucking knife," Elizabeth spat.

"Wouldn't matter, I can deflect those too. I suppose I should count myself lucky you've stopped throwing your own shit at me."

"Constipated."

"I'll see if we have any prunes," Carrie laughed.

Elizabeth threw herself on the bed. "Why do you keep coming in here? What do you hope to gain, bitch?"

Carrie sat down on a chair near the door. "I love your mother and father. Therefore, I love you. They won't give up on you, so neither will I."

"I will get out of these chains eventually. And, I am going to kill you slowly."

Carrie nodded. "Whatever turns you on, Elizabeth."

She leapt off the bed, long jagged nails outstretched. The chain stopped her short inches from Carrie. She screamed in Carrie's face, her breath a breeze across Carrie's cheek.

Carrie shook her head. "You waste so much energy."

"Fuck you!"

Carrie laughed. "Not yet. One day, perhaps. When you start bathing and brushing your teeth again. Then, maybe."

Elizabeth walked back to her bed and lay down.

"Let's see," Carrie said as she picked up a book from beside the chair. "Where were we? Lion, Witch, and the Wardrobe, right?"

"Fucking whore."

"Chapter Seven..."

***

Carrie stepped out of the room and closed the door.

Mark was leaning against the wall beside the door to his room, the room they now shared. "How is the banshee tonight?"

Carrie put her arms around him and held him tight. "Profane, possessed, putrid smelling... I'm sure I could find a lot more 'P' words to describe her. Tomorrow will be tough, though. Not a lot of words beginning with 'Q'."

Mark laughed. "We could always move into the house on campus with Madison. Tank and Cheryl just moved in. Tank wants us in their coven."

"We're our own coven," she said and kissed him. "No. We have to stay here. I can't leave her alone with Christine and Nathan."

"True." He stroked her hair. "You seen the news?"

"No, something going on?"

Mark laughed.

***

Someone knocked on Colonel Menser's office door.

"Come."

Rosen opened the door and looked inside. "Better put it on WNYC, boss."

Menser frowned. He picked up a remote and aimed it at his wall-mounted flatscreen.

"We're getting reports of police barricades going up all around Greenwich Village, and we are now told that those barricades are being moved back all the way to 2nd Avenue in Manhattan. To the east, sections of FDR Drive are completely blocked. For a live report, we're going to WNYC's own Rebecca Kincaid. Rebecca?"

"Christ," Menser whispered.

Rebecca Kincaid appeared with her huge fake boobs and mane of blonde curls.

And, those goddamned eyes.

Menser hit a button on his remote and two black spots covered her eyes - Rosen and his team had put the technology together to block the bitch's hypnotic gaze.

"Bill, we've been pushed back by NYPD past the 2nd Avenue barricade. There appears to be some sort of wild, out of control party going on in the Village that has spread west into greater Manhattan. Just another Saturday night in the Village some are saying, but the police here are absolutely spooked."

"We're not spooked," a female detective said.

"Hello, Patricia," Menser said under his breath. "You really need to get the fuck out of there, and for fuck's sake don't look at her fucking eyes."

Rebecca smiled. "Bill, we're joined now by Detective Patricia Kennedy of the the NYPD. You say the police aren't spooked?"

"No. We are attempting to contain a contagious disease that started in Greenwich Village."

"What sort of disease, detective?"

Patricia glanced at Rebecca.

"Goddamn it, stop looking at her fucking eyes." Menser grabbed his phone and punched buttons on the screen.

"It appears to be some type of sexually transmitted disease with a very short incubation period." Her phone rang. "Just a moment." She stepped off camera.

"Patricia, this is your friend in the government."

"You motherfucker. Do you have any idea what is going on in Manhattan?"

"I got a clue or two. Right now, I'm more concerned about you. Rebecca Kincaid is one of them, and you absolutely do not want to look in that slut's eyes."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Rebecca Kincaid is one of the mind controllers, and if you keep looking at those sparkling baby blues for much longer you're going to be a devoted little love slave."

Patricia paused. "Are you fucking serious?"

"No, Patricia, I just called you in the middle of the goddamned apocalypse to fuck with you."

"What... do I do?"

"What you've been doing, just don't look in her fucking eyes." Menser hung up.

A moment later Patricia stepped back into the frame.

This time she was looking down or to her left, not at Rebecca Kincaid.

"That's my girl."

"Detective, what are the symptoms of this disease?" Rebecca asked.

"Um, loss of sexual inhibitions, they act like they're high on some sort of aphrodisiac, but in actuality they are sick."

"And, it spreads through sexual contact?"

"That's right."

There were screams off camera, and the cameraman swung to his right.

The police barricades were bowing inwards as a sea of naked bodies pressed against them.

"They're coming through!" A cop screamed.

The riot police began backing up as one after another barricade toppled.

"We need to get these people back!" Patricia yelled.

Then a crowd of men in black suits rushed into the fray.

They had small pistols and the air filled with the sound of airguns firing.

A cloud of darts like a swarm of bees collided with the rioters and they began to fall.

A tall woman wearing a black rubber nun's outfit stepped up to the camera.

"Who the hell are you?" Patricia asked.

"I am Sister Hecate of the Church of Morpheus. We are here to help."

Menser shook his head. "Fuck. Oh, fuck me."

"You can't just start shooting people!" Patricia yelled.

"Calm yourself, detective. Our darts are filled with harmless tranquilizers."

"I don't care what you're shooting them with! You can't just..."

"Would you prefer we did nothing? You will lose this city if we stand down." Hecate said. Hecate held up her hand and the black suited Church agents paused.

Patricia's phone buzzed. She put it to her ear. She sighed. "By order of the Mayor of New York, I am authorized to accept your help in this situation."

Hecate smiled and waved at the agents who continued firing into the crowd.

Menser laughed and rubbed his eyes. "Create an epidemic, and then ride in on a white horse and save the day. We're going to lose this goddamned war."

***

Two Weeks Later

Levi sat in the restaurant and ate his chowder. There were perks to being exiled to Boston. The headline on his Boston Globe read: BIMBO FLU STRIKES DOWNTOWN BOSTON. Below this was an article entitled: Church of Morpheus Delivers Vaccine Against Bimbo Flu.

Levi smiled. "Things are going smoothly."

Illia sat across from him and drank her coffee. "Yes, Bishop."

He nodded. "You still think I was wrong?"

"No, Levi. I am just glad we are both alive."

He shrugged. "I regret losing Elizabeth. It was fun tormenting her."

Illia winced. "We have five thousand two hundred victims of the bimbo flu in downtown Boston. Forty-eight Futanari Type 1 were created along with eighty-seven Type 2.

Levi smiled. "Next week we will take our proposal to city council to create a red-light district downtown."

"Havana really believes they will agree to it?"

Levi laughed. "What choice do they have? What else will they do with over 5,000 perverts and freaks? It's the only humane thing to do. Besides, New York already agreed to do it in Manhattan. As soon as Boston agrees, we'll move our residence into the red-light district. It'll be like living in Havana."

"Yes, there is that," Illia said.

"Oh, cheer up. We'll own this town soon." He tapped her nose with his finger. "You're too pretty to be so serious all the time."

Illia laughed. "I'm going to the restroom. Don't eat my chowder."

"It's pronounced chow-duh," Levi laughed.

Illia laughed. "Chow-duh... fine... just don't eat it." In a way, getting kicked out of New York had been a blessing. Levi seemed happy now, perhaps it was being away from Ithaca and all the memories.

She walked into the restroom.

A woman smiled at her as she walked past.

A moment later, that same woman clapped her hand over Illia's mouth and slipped a needle into her neck.

The world went black.

***

Levi sat at the table and thought about taking at least a little of Illia's chowder.

A man in a business suit sat down across from Levi. "You asked him about his powers?"

Levi stared at the man. "I... what? What are you talking about?"

"In Ithaca. In the basement, you asked Jason Moore how much of his cum it took for him to possess someone."

Levi went pale.

The man stood up and walked away.

Levi watched him. He started to get up and follow the man.

But, an old woman sat down across from him in the seat the man had left. "The answer is: less than a drop. Smaller than the head of a pin." She smiled and pointed at him. "A man like you, Bishop? You should know better than to be predictable. You eat at this same restaurant once a week, same day, same hour."

A young pretty woman leaned over the table. "Earlier this week, Jason sent one of his possessed here to Boston with a jar filled with his cum."

"They put it in the chow-duh," the old woman said.

A man leaned over the other side of the table. "This place is populah. Two hundred people possessed in one day. Each and every one of us."

Levi looked around the crowded restaurant.

Everyone was standing up and walking toward his table.

"Stay back!" Levi said.

All of them had knives.

The old woman pulled out a knife. "Jason told us to tell you: you tried to hurt Belynda. Ya terrorized his wives. He don't like that. He don't like that at all. You're a bad person, Bishop."

"Pain!" Levi screamed.

The old woman slumped in her chair.

"All of us? You gonna do that to all of us, Bishop?" A man asked. "We're gonna cut you up. Then, we're all gonna go home and fuhget we was evuh here. We got a dozen folks across the street that are gonna swear you was killed by a gang of thugs."

"No. No!" Levi screamed. "Pain! Pain!"

They fell on him with their knives.

***

Illia stumbled out of the restroom. Knock Out, someone had dosed her with Knock Out. "Levi? Help me..."

The restaurant was empty.

Only Levi remained.

He sat glassy eyed in his chair, his arms spread wide, looking up at the ceiling. Blood made a perfect circular pool around his chair.

They had left nothing intact but his face.

Sister Illia screamed.

***

One Month Later

Carrie drove the Tesla out of the suburbs.

"Where are you taking me?" Sugar asked.

"I thought we'd have lunch at our favorite diner."

Sugar smiled. "Where we ate after I transformed you?"

"Yes. I'm in the mood to eat a lot of cheeseburgers," Carrie laughed.

"Ooo, and the shakes. And, the pie."

"Those too," Carrie said.

Sugar patted her hand. "I'm really proud of you. You've come a long way in six weeks."

"Feels like a million years ago," Carrie said. She looked at the houses as she passed.

"You can feel them? The minds of the people inside?" Sugar asked.

Carrie nodded. "Can you?"

"No, honey. You're way past me," Sugar said. "Can you only receive their thoughts, or can you transmit as well at this range?"

"I can transmit. I can make them do anything. It used to frighten me."

"You've done an amazing job of controlling yourself, Carrie."

"Have I? Sometimes I don't know."

Sugar smiled. "You have. You're our greatest success."

Carrie reached the diner and kept going.

Sugar looked at the diner as they passed. "I thought we were going to the diner?"

"We are. I just want to make a little stop first."

She drove on into the country.

A few minutes later, she pulled into a gravel lot beside a cinder block building.

A bright pink neon sign said, "The Pussy Pot."

Below that was a sign that said, "Exotic Dancers! Fully Nude! 24/7!"

"The Pussy Pot?" Sugar laughed. "You're taking me to The Pussy Pot? Why on earth..."

"Come on, you'll see."

Sugar got out of the car. "Honey, I've been here before. We send a lot of girls here."

"I know. Come on." Carrie stepped inside.

Sugar followed. Her eyes adjusted to the dark interior.

Sugar gasped. The inside wasn't as she remembered it. Everything was new and shiny. The smell of beer was gone. Now, it smelled of sex.

Techno pumped from the speakers as two massively pregnant women pole danced on the shiny black stage.

The blondes onstage could be twins.

"Mother and daughter actually," Carrie said reading her mind. "Levi impregnated and transformed them - that's what brought me here. Stacie Fuchs wanted me to check on them after Levi was exiled."

The mother abruptly dropped down from the pole and did a spit on the side of the stage.

A man immediately began tonguing her pussy.

Sugar looked around the room.

There was no sex in strip clubs.

There was sex in The Pussy Pot.

Whores knelt between the thighs of johns at every other table giving blowjobs.

An Asian girl was on her hands and knees taking one man in her mouth while another fucked her ass.

"Transformed? All the whores are transformed?" Sugar asked.

"Yes. I made changes."

"You made changes?" Sugar asked.

Carrie sat down at an empty table and motioned for Sugar to sit down as well.

Sugar sat down as the pregnant daughter on stage lowered herself onto the side of the stage.

A john immediately pulled out his cock and began fucking her.

"This place belongs to me," Carrie said. "I came here, and I thought about what we talked about that first day. About how we had to accept the evil inside us. I've accepted it, Sugar. I enjoy it. So, I just manipulated the owner into giving it to me."

The deejay spoke into his microphone. "Now coming onstage, our latest Pussy Pot Slut, the beautiful Roxy."

Sugar turned her head and looked at the stage.

Roxy. The waitress from the diner that Carrie had 'saved'. Now her breasts were three cup sizes bigger, her hips three inches wider, her legs four inches longer. Her lips were fuller, hair longer as she gyrated around the pole.

Sugar shook her head slowly. "But, you wanted to save her. You didn't want her to be..."

"I went to the diner. And, I tried to be happy with what I had done for her, I really did," Carrie said. "I empowered her. But, then I saw everyone looking at her, and I thought, 'Why should she be wasted in that diner?' I mean, why not make her into a sex object? A work of art? A toy?"

"Oh, Carrie. You..."

"I know. But, really, Sugar, I need this place to play. I need a place to let go."

The front door opened, and a couple stepped inside.

The man was gawking, and the woman was blushing a deep red.

Carrie pointed at them. "I love this part. As we were driving here, we passed them on the road. Cute aren't they? I just put the idea in their heads to come here. Just a little push, and here they are. They happily walked right into my trap."