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James Warrington Thompson, multimillionaire and captain of industry,
sweated as he sat behind the mahogany desk in his elegant office and
contemplated the events of the last two days. He awaited the arrival of
the person he hoped would save him. When his secretary announced the
visitor, Thompson fought to control himself. His hand shook when he
extended it in greeting.

"Mr. Thompson, I'm Phillip Zim," the visitor said. His voice was well
modulated and polite.

"I'm glad you could come on such short notice, Mr. Zim. Please have a
seat."

"Thank you," Zim answered as he sat in the large, high-backed leather
chair in front of the desk. "Have you talked with Hermann Weller today?"

"Yes. I visited with Hermann again. He assures me I'll be pleased with
your services. I'd no idea his wife was one of your subjects."

"Mrs. Weller's a delightful woman, Mr. Thompson. That's to be
expected. All our subjects are as delightful as she. All our clients are
as satisfied as Mr. Weller. We perform first class services and we
guarantee the results."

"I first heard about your company from Hermann two days ago. I know
nothing about you. My normal investigative procedures didn't even reveal
your name."

Zim grinned knowingly. "In our profession, it doesn't pay to advertise.
We've been in business forty years and we operate worldwide."

"Worldwide? I had no idea you were so big," Thompson replied.

"There's quite a demand for us," Zim said. "We offer two basic
services, Mr. Thompson. The majority are engagements like yours. The
client has identified a specific subject. We contract to acquire and mold
her to his specifications, including modifications."

"Modifications?"

"Yes. breast enhancement, hair coloring, rhinoplasty, liposuction, that
sort of thing. Lip enhancement is rapidly gaining in popularity with the
new surgical techniques which have been developed."

"Are most of your subjects modified?"

"All subjects have some physical modification. Our basic program hones
the subjects to their best natural appearance using diet and exercise. The
property is instilled with a strong desire to maintain a perfect shape
after her return to you. She will continue the diet and exercise program
without instruction or intervention on your part."

"All hard bodies?" Thompson said with a grin.

"Predominantly. We offer the Victorian option. With that option, the
subject is programmed for little to moderate exercise. Rather, she
controls her shape primarily by diet. She'll have a soft, voluptuous feel.
Part of this option is corset training, which gives the property a narrow,
wasp waist, emphasizing an hourglass figure. These subjects are lush
rather than hard."

"Simply amazing," Thompson said. "May I ask how the training's done,
Mr. Zim?"

"That's proprietary information. However, part of the secret of our
success is evaluation of subject's personality. We might recommend the
direction her appearance should take, or management of her after her
return."

"I don't understand," Mr. Thompson replied. "I thought she'd be
whatever I wanted."

"She will. Have no doubt about it, our training provides perfect
control. However, if we can meld features of her natural personality into
the final characteristics you desire, the results are much better. In all
honesty, Mr. Thompson, the results do vary. Melding her existing
personality with the desired one creates a much happier and more positive
subject. There's no negativity in her, no part of her fighting to resist.

But - if we can't meld the two, we imprison the existing personality
within her mind. The new personality we create controls her inwardly and
outwardly. In that circumstance, the existence of the old personality
within can cause conflict and, sometimes, depression. I wouldn't be overly
concerned. We believe this exists in less than three per cent of our
subjects."

Zim stopped. He could see the confusion on Thompson's face. He waited
until Thompson looked at him again.

"We have one other option, although we normally try to dissuade our
clients from selecting it," Zim continued.

"What is it?"

"We can destroy her inhibitions. The subject becomes a sex machine.
She'll be a stereotypical slut."

Thompson laughed. "Why don't you recommend that? Isn't it what most
men want?"

"Not really. Most of our customers want a woman who's wildly sexual
with them, but them alone. They want love, comfort and companionship much
more than they want sex. They want someone acceptable in any social
situation, someone to show off to their friends. This option I'm referring
to produces a true and complete slut."

Zim grimaced remembering a distasteful event.

"In one instance," he said, "we processed a subject for a client who had
requested this option. He returned her to us in ten days. During that
time, she seduced thirty-four men, including three of his business partners
and the entire crew who maintained his landscaping. We disposed of her to
someone else."

"Good lord," Mr. Thompson said. "Who would want such a woman?"

"They make excellent call girls or corporate whores," Zim replied with a
smile.

"What other services do you provide?"

"We operate a training ranch in a South American country where we
inventory about three hundred subjects. They're selected for their beauty
and intelligence. We acquire them around the world and train them there.
Ages of the subjects range from ten to nineteen. It's easier to mold the
personalities most often desired when one begins early and has time. We
sell them when they're ready. Of course, the subjects are virgins when
they begin their new lives."

"A beautiful, virgin sex slave. It sounds like a fantasy," Thompson
said with a deprecating laugh.

"It's a fantasy many men are living, Mr. Thompson. Now, I need some
information."

"Don't you want to hear why I'm doing this?" Thompson asked.

"That's your business and we don't inquire. To us, it makes no
difference. The results are the same. May I ask some questions?"

James Thompson shifted in his chair to stare into space. Phillip Zim
waited patiently as the clock on the wall ticked away the minutes.

"Go ahead," Thompson said wearily.

"Name?"

"Name. Oh. After talking to Hermann, I believe there'll be two of
them."

"Two? Why?"

"They're sisters. Their parents are dead and they have no other family.
If both are taken, there'd be no family members to question the changes in
them."

"Wise decision, Mr. Thompson. Let me tell you about another service we
provide. If you choose to have us mold both of them, we offer a reduced
rate for the second subject. Also, any subject custom trained by us can be
resold if you desire. Sales proceeds, less our standard commission, is
remitted to you or you may have credit against a new purchase. You might
keep one for yourself and sell the other."

"No. Not just yet."

"The service is always available. To continue, what's the name of the
primary subject?"

"Mary Catherine O'Brian. She's called Cathy."

"Age?"

"Twenty-five."

"Physical description?"

Thompson answered. Zim continued his questioning, recording the answers
in his laptop computer.

"Good," Zim said, the questionnaire on Cathy complete. "Let's talk
about her sister."

"I don't know a lot about her. Her name's Christine. She's about
twenty and goes to UCLA. I have her address and a snapshot."

"That'll have to do, I suppose," Zim said. "Shall we discuss the cover
story to explain their disappearance?"

"Cathy has few friends in spite of her intelligence and talents. She's
a loner. She's already announced she's resigning, moving to Paris, and
taking Chrissy with her."

"Good. That'll explain their disappearence. When they return, there
shouldn't be any problem. They'll be programmed to support any reason we
wish for their return. May I borrow your phone?"

"Certainly."

Thompson watched as Zim quickly dialed. He spoke in hushed tones and a
foreign tongue before turning to Thompson again.

"Our Zurich bank received the wire transfer for the primary subject's
training. We trust you to advance the balance tomorrow."

"Of course."

"Good. We can begin."

Thompson collapsed in his chair after seeing Zim to the door. The
interview had drained him. He wished . . . No. The die was cast. He was
lost in thoughts when the door burst open. She strode toward his desk with
arrogance and disdain.

"Who was the suit?" she asked haughtily as she sat in the chair recently
occupied by Mr. Zim.

"A business prospect. What are your plans?"

"I've changed them. Chrissy and I leave for Paris tomorrow."

Cathy watched his face, seeing the distress come and go.

"I've enjoyed outwitting you, Jim. Don't take it personally. It was
business. You had money. I wanted it." She laughed cruelly. "Think of me
when you authorize the monthly transfers. Think of me and all that secret
information I have."

"You're a bitch!"

"You're a fool and I'm a rich bitch now. I'd like to say you were fun,
but you weren't. Goodbye," she said as she stood. "Maybe we'll see each
other someday."

"Yes, we will," he replied under his breath as she walked toward the
door.

James Thompson was unable to sleep. He walked the halls of his
expensive home. He jumped when the phone broke the stillness of the night.
"Thompson here," he said when he picked up the receiver.

"Just a short report, Mr. Thompson. The two subjects were acquired.
We'll be in touch with you."

"I'm looking forward to it," Mr. Thompson said before he disconnected.
That night he slept soundly for the first time in days.

One month later, James Thompson again waited in his office for the
arrival of Phillip Zim. The men greeted each other. Phillip Zim began.

"I have a long progress report." Zim said as he opened his laptop. He
read over his notes. James Thompson was quiet and composed.

"Let's start with the younger sister, Christine, or Chrissy, as they
call her. Have you ever met her?"

"No, I haven't," Thompson replied.

"Delightful young woman. She's more beautiful than her sister. Our
probes of her mind found her to be the ideal prospect. She has submissive
characteristics we're melding into your objectives. You can thank Cathy
for that. Cathy has spent her life making Chrissy subdued and submissive,
thinking she'll be the beneficiary. Directing those tendencies toward you
is easy. She'll be the ideal wife or mistress. As to her physical
characteristics . . . "

Zim consulted his laptop again.

"Ah, yes. Our staff recommends no special modifications at all."

"No modifications?"

"None. We've processed many subjects over the years. We don't believe
surgical modifications to obtain some so-called ideal is best either for
the subject or the client. She's beautiful with a wonderful figure. Even
her hair is ideal. It's a lustrous raven. I think you'll be very
pleased."

"And Cathy?"

"Chrissy popped open like a ripe melon under our procedures and told us
everything. It was very interesting. She hates her sister, but's afraid
to displease her. This is a plus for you. Besides directing those
characteristics to you, when Chrissy understands you control Cathy, she'll
be more at ease around her. Yes, her personality will easily meld with
your objectives."

"And Cathy? What are your recommendations for her?" Thompson said
coldly.

"Cathy has a very strong personality," Zim replied. He appeared
embarrassed.

"Are you telling me you cannot deliver, Mr. Zim?"

"No, sir. We guarantee our results."

"Then, what are your recommendations for Cathy?"

"We need further time to evaluate her, Mr. Thompson. Our
recommendations will be deferred until then. The training program in
contract situations is six months to a year, as I informed you. It's only
been a month, Mr. Thompson. You must have patience. Do you have any
other questions?"

"None," Thompson replied.

"We'll proceed then," Zim said as he stood. "I won't contact you for
several more months."

Time passed slowly for James Thompson, even though it was filled with
activities. Thoughts of Cathy and Chrissy seldom left him. Four months
passed from the women's acquisition before Zim called him to schedule
another meeting. Thompson set it for the first possible moment. Zim was
smiling when he arrived.

"I have another progress report, Mr. Thompson," Zim began. "First,
Chrissy. She's exactly as you ordered: the archtypical trophy wife. She's
demure and classy, yet sensual and feminine. She'll be a magnificent lady
in the living room and a wildcat in the bedroom. And, as important, she'll
be completely loyal and faithful. You're fortunate indeed."

Zim sat back with a self-satisfied smirk. "In fact, another client
wishes to have her. He's prepared to offer top dollar."

"She's not for sale," Thompson snapped, angry at the suggestion.

Zim blanched. He was contrite when he spoke. "We never interfere in
negotiations between clients, Mr. Thompson. I'm bringing the offer to you
as I must under company policy."

"Forget it."

Zim waited for his client's anger to subside.

"You've made a wise choice. She's very special. Her training's almost
complete. She'll be available in three weeks, or we can deliver them at
the same time."

"No. I want her as soon as possible. Now, Mr. Zim, how about Cathy?"

Zim grimaced as if he had bad news to reveal. He shrugged his shoulders
before opening his laptop.

"Cathy's been difficult, very difficult, but the conversion has begun.
How would you describe Cathy, Mr. Thompson? I mean her personality, not
her body."

"Underneath her very charming exterior, you mean? She's cruel.
Manipulative. Hard. Dominating and controlling."

"Yes. True. Very true. Dominanting and controlling. Ruthless in her
desire to control; vicious in her need to subugate others. But - we found
the seed of another personality buried deeply in her psyche. That seed is
the opposite: warm, soft, fun loving. Cathy doesn't enjoy sex, Mr.
Thompson. Cathy doesn't enjoy life. We can't find anything she does enjoy
except the perverse manipulation of others."

"She appeared to enjoy sex with me."

"Manipulation only. A way of controlling you. She doesn't enjoy sex,
either with men or women. Our procedures determined that. No. Cathy's a
manipulator, plain and simple."

Zim stopped. For a moment he looked blankly out the window, then
focused again on the screen in his lap.

"We're growing that hidden seed, Mr. Thompson. We're building a new
personality that will be what you want. Cathy's dominant personality's
fighting us tooth and toenail. Our procedures are imprisoning her in her
own mind. We believe, over time, with the right atmosphere at her resident
location, the personality imprisoned will gradually wither, disappearing
into the programmed personality."

Zim stopped. Again, he consulted his file.

"The new personality will be diametrically opposed to the old one. We
recommend a completely different body type and we recommend a different
name. We suggest you call her Candy."

"Candy?"

"Yes. Cathy's a proud and arrogant woman, as you well know, Mr.
Thompson. We'll isolate her in a body she hates controlled by a woman she
despises. That woman will be Candy."

Zim laughed. "Cathy even hates the name Candy. She'll be constantly
humiliated by Candy's actions and appearance. This will pressure her into
complete capitulation. Once she surrenders, she'll accept and appreciate
what she's become, or the personality known as Cathy will disappear."

Zim waited until Thompson nodded understanding.

"As I said, we recommend significant body modifications. Cathy's figure
is very lean, even boyish. She's a fanatical believer in the saying 'the
leaner the better'. Do you realize she's five ten and weighs only one
hundred ten pounds?"

"Cathy's very proud of her model's figure. She dieted and exercised
religiously."

"That's why the changes we recommend are so important."

"How do you visualize her when you are through, Mr. Zim?"

"We use computer modeling in these situations. Her height isn't
something we can change. We project her weight'll be one hundred
fifty-eight pounds. Our bone-to-mass analysis indicates she can carry the
extra weight easily."

"A forty-eight pound gain? Cathy'll be mortified."

"Yes, she will. She'll be humiliated, but Candy'll love it. Instead of
a bag of bones like Twiggy or Kate Moss, picture Marilyn Monroe. picture a
nineteenth century courtesan. Voluptuous. Lush. Rich."

Zim smiled. "We leave no stone unturned, Mr. Thompson. Candy'll love
her body, her soft, full woman's body. We don't recommend the standard
Victorian option. Candy'll exercise to keep her figure. The fat to muscle
ratio is very important. However, we recommend corset training."

"Why?"

"To optimize the waist to hip ratio."

"What'll her measurements be?"

"The computer projects several possible combinations. Mr. Thompson,
our studies, based on forty years of dealing with this subject, indicate
the importance of a woman's measurements is vastly overblown. It's her
face, her eyes, her sense of self and sensuality, that attract a man. Take
Marilyn Monroe and Michelle Pfeiffer, for example. They're totally
different body types, yet men flock to them. It's their attitude, their
individual projection of feminity."

"True. You know, Mr. Zim, Cathy's figure wasn't my ideal. I prefer
more meat on my women. It was always her mind that attracted me."

"Of course. Most men prefer a woman shaped like a woman, but the mind
is the true sex organ. That is why the training takes so long, Mr.
Thompson. We must control her mind, modify it, make it want to do what we
want her to be. Looks are an important part of that. Back to her figure.
Our experience has proved the hip-to-waist ratio is the only physical
measurement worth noting. As long as it's .7 to one or less, other
measurements aren't significant."

"Any other recommendations?" James Thompson asked.

"Only one at this time. Cathy's hair is short and black. We recommend
Candy have blonde hair. The final color is yet undetermined. Our current
thinking is a light golden color. Length would be to her shoulders."

"Sounds delightful."

"Yes. We'll have more suggestions later, I'm sure. Well, Mr.
Thompson. May we proceed?"

"Certainly, but keep me informed."

"Of course. Don't worry. The subject will be wonderful when we finish
with her."

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"But she won't be Cathy."

"Cathy'll be there, somewhere in Candy's mind."

Thompson grinned evilly. He said, "I have one request. I want to talk
to Cathy after you return Candy to me."

Zim looked surprised.

"No one's ever requested that before. I think we can do it. I need to
consult with our specialists."

"Please do. It's important to me."

Thompson was at his desk when the phone rang two days after Zim's visit.

"Mr. Thompson, can you talk?"

"Yes. Go ahead."

"Good news. Cathy'll be accessible though Candy. You can speak to her
whenever you wish. Cathy won't be able to speak back unless you give Candy
specific instructions to allow it."

"Excellent. Anything else?"

"I want to make arrangements to deliver Chrissy to you. She's ready."

A week later, James Thompson waited impatiently in his living room for
the arrival of Christine O'Brian. It was half past midnight when he heard
the van in his circular driveway. At the knock, he swung open the door.
Phillip Zim smiled at him. Another man was standing behind Zim. Thompson
escorted his guests to the living room.

The other man carried a woman in his arms. She was covered by a cloak
and hooded. The man placed her on the floor. Only the pink tipped toes of
her bare feet were visible. The woman did not move, except to tilt her
head downward. Without speaking, Zim removed the cloak and hood.
Thompson's sharp inhale was audible. Zim smiled.

"Good night, Mr. Thompson. I know you'll enjoy her," Zim said.

Thompson returned from escorting Zim to the door to find the woman
unchanged. Slowly, he walked around her, admiring what he saw. When he
took her hand, her eyes opened. Bright blue eyes gazed softly into his.
One step and she was in his arms, her lips raised to be kissed. They were
soft and supple. Her body melted into him. When he broke the kiss, her
eyes fluttered, wet and unfocused.

"Oh, Jim, I've looked forward to this moment," she whispered.

"So have I, Chrissy. Come. Let's go to bed."

She smiled happily, revealing a dimple and bright, white teeth.

"I thought you'd never ask," she said sexily.

Three months later, Chrissy O'Brian answered the door of the Thompson
mansion. Her expensive and conservative white pants suit spoke of money,
class and breeding, and hinted of carnal pleasures.

"Hello, Mr. Zim. Please come in," she said, her smile wide and
genuine. "Jim's expecting you."

After escorting Mr. Zim into the study, she excused herself. Zim heard
her humming as she quietly closed the door.

"I hear things are going well," Zim said.

"Unbelievably! How did you hear?"

"From Hermann and from another man whose wife was one of our subjects.
Everyone, it appears, likes Chrissy very much."

"True. Particularly me. She's a wonder."

"It's been ninety days since we delivered her. Any flaws we need to
correct? Any additional training needed?"

"No. No. She's more than I expected. She's smart. Her sense of humor
is outstanding, her personality perfect for me. And, in bed, well . . . "

Thompson's words drifted off. Zim waited patiently as he had waited for
other clients many times before. Thompson smiled at him before speaking
again.

"Funny. I've fallen in love with her."

"That's to be expected, Mr. Thompson. All the positive feminine
characteristics are reinforced and magnified; the negative ones are
diminished or eliminated. How could any man not love her? Honestly, I'm
not surprised. Our programming's designed to produce an ideal woman.
Nature takes over. Her man feels about her the way you feel about
Chrissy."

"I think I'll marry her."

"That's your choice. She's programmed to be the perfect wife, you
know."

James Thompson's eyes were looking at a picture in his mind. He sighed
absentmindedly. Finally, he turned back to Phillip Zim.

"You're here about Cathy?"

"Yes. I have a progress report."

"Go ahead," Thompson said.

"It's been eight months since acquisition. Cathy's still fighting with
all her powers, but those powers are reduced significantly. Candy's
starting to blossom. The weight gain's coming along nicely. Candy weighs
one hundred forty-one now. She exercises a great deal, running to build
her legs and derriere, weight training to sculpt her body."

"How did you get her to gain weight? I couldn't get Cathy to eat two
ounces of prime rib."

"Women aren't naturally addicted to prime rib, Mr. Thompson. They're
addicted to chocolate. High quality chocolate. Dark, rich, high fat,
indescribable chocolate."

"Of course! Cathy would squirm when she saw chocolate, like it was the
devil himself. I've seen her fight herself not to eat it."

"Candy doesn't struggle to avoid it. She struggles to get it. I've
always thought the forbidden fruit in The Garden of Eden was chocolate,"
Zim said with a laugh. "I have a progress report to discuss with you."

"You've got my agreement to do whatever you wish to her."

"That may include surgical modification. We haven't made our final
recommendations yet."

"I don't want to hear it. Do what you think best."

"Thank you for your confidence, Mr. Thompson. You'll not regret it."

About three months later, Chrissy O'Brian was on her hands and knees in
the middle on the big bed in the Thompson bedroom. James Thompson was
under her, his cock in her mouth. She pulled back with a slurp and wrapped
her fingers around him. Her free hand brushed back her long black hair so
she could look at him.

"Something wrong, honey?" she asked in a puzzled, shy voice. "You seem
someplace else tonight."

"Come lie by me for a minute," he said, patting the bed.

"But I'm enjoying this," she replied with a sexy smile.

He gently tugged on her hair, pulling her toward him. She slipped
beside him, entwining her body against his. Idly, her pussy moved lightly
back and forth against his leg.

"Are you unhappy with me?" she whispered, anxiety evident in her voice.

"Oh, never."

"What is it then?"

"I want to marry you," he said softly.

Chrissy O'Brian began to cry. She sobbed out a grateful and genuine
acceptance.

Three weeks later James Thompson's phone rang.

"Thompson here."

"Mr. Thompson, Phillip Zim. I'm calling to make the final arrangements
for the delivery of Candy O'Brian, but first, congratulations. I hear
you're getting married."

"Yes. Thank you. Chrissy and I are very excited about it."

"Shall I put Candy in our sale program for you?"

"No. I still want Cathy, I mean Candy. I have some things to settle
with her."

"We'll arrive tomorrow night shortly after midnight."

James Thompson watched the clock as it crawled past midnight. His
fianc‚, Chrissy O'Brian, dressed in a silk, full length robe, waited
patiently. Jim rattled the ice in his glass. When they heard the car in
the driveway, both went to the door. Again Phillip Zim stood on the
threshold, accompanied by a man carrying a woman concealed in a hood and
cloak. The man stood the woman in the center of the room. With a
flourish, Zim removed the cloak.

"That's not Cathy!" Chrissy gasped.

"But it is, or rather, it was," Zim replied. "She's wearing earplugs
because I don't want her to hear us. Isn't she magnificent? Look at that
body!"

"She looks like Dolly Parton only taller and bigger. Oh, my god, Cathy
hates that kind of body," Chrissy said.

"Yes, she does," Zim replied with a thin smile. "But this isn't Cathy."

"I know. She's Candy. Your representative explained everything to us."

"Her final weight is one fifty-one, Mr. Thompson. Waist-hip ratio's a
perfect .7:1."

Thompson cupped one of her huge breasts in his hand, feeling its weight
and shape. A groan came from beneath the hood and her back arched a
fraction of an inch, offering her breast to him.

"Implants?" he asked.

"Yes. It was needed to balance her figure. We also performed
liposuction on her waist."

"Excellent work. I can't see a scar."

"Thank you, Mr. Thompson. I'll give your compliments to the surgeon."

"Can I talk to Cathy?"

"In a few moments, Mr. Thompson. Do you have any questions about her
handling?"

"No questions, Mr. Zim," Thompson said.

"Chrissy?" Zim said. She looked at him and shook her head.

"Your part in this is very important."

"I know. Don't worry, Mr. Zim. I'll discipline Candy when she needs
it. I'm looking forward to being her mistress."

Zim smiled at seeing the determination on Chrissy's face. She'd been
trained to be submissive to James Thompson, but dominant over the other
women in his life if he desired her to be. Zim slapped the hooded woman on
the back of her naked thigh. Gracefully, she knelt. He removed the hood
and the earplugs. She was still. Her eyes were closed. Zim and his
assistant left. Candy didn't move except for her gentle breathing.

"Keep your eyes closed, Candy, but you may speak if necessary," Thompson
said.

"Thank you, Mr. Thompson," the woman replied in a soft and sexy voice.

James Thompson unzipped his slacks. Candy shivered in anticipation when
she heard the zipper. He rubbed his hard cock against her lips. Greedily,
she sucked him in her mouth. He put his hand on her head to guide her.

"Open your eyes, Candy," Thompson said as his hand on the back of her
head held his cock deep in her mouth.

She looked up at him, smiling around his cock. He saw what he wanted.
Sensuality. Submissiveness. Happiness. He pulled his cock out of her
mouth.

"May I finish sucking you, Mr. Thompson?" she said.

"Later, Candy. I want to meet your new mistress."

"Hello, Candy," Chrissy said.

"Hello, Miss O'Brian," she said, "or, is it Mrs. Thompson?"

"Miss O'Brian will do for now."

"Chrissy, go to the bedroom. I want to talk to Candy," Thompson said.

Thompson led the naked Candy O'Brian into his study. He sat in his easy
chair and instructed her to sit in the chair opposite him.

"Candy?"

"Yes, Mr. Thompson," the woman replied sweetly, her expression showing
her eagerness to please him.

"You'll be our maid and cook. You'll perform any other duties we give
you, but your primarily responsibility will be to provide sexual enjoyment
for me and any other man I tell you to please."

"I know," she replied eagerly. "I'm looking forward to it."

"Do you know who Cathy is, Candy?"

"Yes, I do. This may sound nutty, but she's in here with me. In my
mind, I mean. Sometimes, I can hear her talking to herself. Sometimes, I
can hear her scream."

"That's not nutty. She's in there with you. Never listen to her,
Candy. Never follow her instructions."

"I know that, Mr. Thompson."

"While you enjoy sex, Cathy's humiliated by it. While you love men,
Cathy hates them. These men you're going to fuck will think you're Cathy.
I want them to think you're Cathy. Many of them are Cathy's friends and
business associates. I want them to believe she's become a wild and wanton
slut."

"Well, I don't really understand your plan, Mr. Thompson, but I'll do
whatever you want. I'll tell everyone my name is Cathy O'Brian and that
I'm the biggest slut in town."

"I know you will, Candy. You're a good woman. Now, I want to speak to
Cathy. You keep control of your body and don't let it move, but let Cathy
control your face and voice. Candy, listen for me. When I call your name,
you take complete control again."

"Okay, Mr. Thompson."

"Cathy? Cathy, can you hear me?" Mr. Thompson asked.

The face of the woman kneeling between his legs crumbled. Tears flushed
down her face making a mess of her heavy makeup. Sobs wrenched from her
throat. Thompson sat, letting her cry hysterically. He waited as the
crying subsided. When she looked up at him, her face was a distraught
study in the absence of hope.

"Cathy, did you hear what I told Candy?"

"Don't do it! Please, oh, god, please don't do it! Jim, I'm begging
you!"

"Begging won't help, Cathy."

"I'll give you back all the money and information I stole."

"I already have them. Candy told Mr. Zim where they were. It seems
the two of you share a common memory."

"You bastard!"

The voice was a scream, the face a study in hatred. The body was
relaxed and calm, not moving. Thompson's eyes narrowed. His anger was
evident.

"Why don't you relax and enjoy your new life, Cathy?"

"Let a man control me? Let any man fuck me any way he wants? I'd die
first!"

"That's too bad. Your mind's brillant. You and I would've made a hell
of a team."

"It's not too late, Jim! Release me. Let me help you."

"No, Cathy. It's too late. Candy has your intelligence, your training
and knowledge, but she's not a manipulative bitch like you are. I'm going
to enjoy Candy like I never enjoyed you."

"I hate you!" she screamed. "I'll hate you forever."

"Cathy O'Brian," he said. "For fraud, theft, and deceit in our
relationship, I sentence you to six months solitary confinement in your
living prison. After six months, I'll review your case. At that time,
I'll decide what further punishment you deserve."

"God, no. Please, Jim," Cathy sobbed. "Have mercy on me! Please!
Have mercy!"

"That is merciful, Cathy. You'll get to enjoy all the people Candy
pleases. You'll learn to enjoy life and sex and yourself."

"Don't do that to me! Let me have my pride. Please!"

"Cathy, take pride in your woman's body. In Candy's body. Take pride
in the joy you'll bring men and women by being with them."

"No! No! I hate sex!"

"Goodbye, Cathy. I'll speak to you again in six months. Candy!"

The face changed. The woman shook her head as if regaining
consciousness. Slowly, the sweet, slutty demeanor of Candy O'Brian
reappeared. She tilted her head to one side, as if listening to a voice
from afar.

"She's screaming again," Candy said.

"Pay no attention. Let's go upstairs," Mr. Thompson replied.

"Oh, good. Can we fuck? I love to fuck, Mr. Thompson."

The End