Brothers and Sisters

I didn't have to talk to anyone at Evil Corp. for another eleven days. At that time I would resign - or finish up a couple of projects if I could do them in the U. S. instead of Iraq - and would have most of what I wanted to do set in motion.

I got a hotel room, through Dr. Jacobs got an emergency appointment with Dr. Kent, and went to see him. After a thorough examination he assured me that he could return me to exactly my same self, or remake me significantly. I looked at some examples of other faces - I still wanted to be "cute" though look very different - selected one, and made arrangements for surgery the next day.

Of course Dr. Kent wouldn't make me look exactly like the exemplary face I had selected, but very similar to it, and definitely "cute." I stayed overnight in the hospital after surgery, and then the next day went back to my hotel room.

Only after my surgery did I check my cell phone. There were many messages, most from my parents, and two each from Brett and Giselle. They all wanted to know if I was OK, and to "talk." In the last one from my Mom she seemed hysterical. While I was not happy that she and Dad were at my apartment with the cheaters I could envision her thinking that she wanted to console me and prevent warfare between her children, so I sympathized with her somewhat. I called her cellphone.

"Hi Mom, it's Jimmy," I said.

She started crying and then said "Where are you darling, I was so worried. I thought that the CIA may have taken you away, or you died and the hospital wouldn't tell us, or..."

I cut her off. "Nothing like that, Mom. I just wanted to be sure that I didn't see Brett or Giselle because I might have killed them."

"Oh, darling..."

"Listen Mom - just listen, don't talk. I just wanted to let you know that I'm OK. I'm staying at a hotel for a few days, and then I'm taking a trip to get my head clear. I'll see you before I go."

"Oh where are you Jimmy? What hotel? I'll come to see you now," she moaned.

"I'm at the Key Bridge Marriott, Room 1412, but do NOT come now. I'll let you know when. This is important - do not under any circumstances tell Dad, Brett, or Giselle where I am. Do you understand?"

"But, Jimmy, they care about you and want to see if you're OK..." she started to ramble.

"STOP. Do you understand, you are not to tell them under any circumstances. Brett and Giselle are dead to me, and you and Dad will be too if you tell them where I am, got it?"

"OK for now, Jimmy," she sobbed into the phone.

"I'll call you in a couple of days," I replied.

**************

The next day I met one of my friends (I'll call him "Jay") from the CIA at a bench at Tysons Corner Mall. He was in covert ops. He was legitimately nuts - aren't all people in covert ops? - but he liked me because when I worked for The Company I had given him some very worthwhile analysis which he maintained saved his life. Since he was not the type to be overly dramatic it was likely true. Anyway, true or not Jay thought that he "owed" me.

What I wanted from Jay was a new identity, once the bandages were removed from my new face and it healed enough so that I looked fairly normal. I wanted a passport, new social security number, and a "history."

"It's asking a lot, Jimmy," he replied, puffing on a cigarette.

"But not more than your life is worth, huh?" I said with a big grin.

He smiled. "Since you don't need it for a while - like a month, huh?"

I nodded my head, and then he continued, "I might be able to work something out. Give me a list of possible new names and birth dates," he said.

"Way ahead of you Jay, way ahead," I chuckled as I handed him a piece of paper. He took a quick look at it, put it in his suit jacket pocket, extinguished his cigarette, and pulled a burner cell phone from his pocket.

"Check this ever day around five in the afternoon, Jimmy. I'll let you know where to come for a photo session and when the stuff is ready."

"I really appreciate it," I replied. "How much will it cost?"

"I can get a special discount by calling in a favor. Is $10,000 OK - for my guy, not for me," he responded.

"Sure. Do you need it now?" I retorted.

"No; cash when the documents are delivered."

We shook hands, and he disappeared into the Mall crowd.

The next afternoon I was in my hotel room with my recently purchased lap top computer inputting specifics of my plans for the future when there was a knock at the door. I was expecting room service - I rarely went out with my bandages on - with an afternoon snack so I opened it without looking through the peep hole. It was my fucking ex-brother.

He looked taken aback by my appearance, since my new face was completely bandaged and unrecognizable. He assumed that it was me. "Jimmy, I know that you hate me now, but we really have to talk this out. I don't want..."

That is as far as he got. He really wasn't expecting it. I hit him as hard as I could right in the solar plexus. While I was only an analyst being around freaky ex-military types in Iraq with time on my hands gave me some self-defense, or actually "offense," training. Not much, but for a totally unsuspecting civilian like Brett it was plenty.

Brett went down in a heap, not unconscious but immobile and in excruciating pain. I grabbed him by the hair, pulled him into my room, closed the door, and then kicked him as hard as I could in the nuts. The first one landed square on, for the next two he had instinctively moved his hands down there but they sure looked painful nevertheless.

I picked up my laptop and the very few clothes that I had acquired, and put them in my recently purchased back pack. Then I checked out of the hotel, leaving Brett coughing and writhing in pain in my room.

That incident required a slight change in plans. I immediately called my local contact at Evil Corp. and went to see him. I told him that I was quitting but that if they gave me a $25,000 bonus, my normal salary, and safe harbor for a month, that I would finish the last two projects that I was working on. He tried to talk me out of quitting or to at least do the work at normal pay, without a bonus, but I knew how important the projects were to Evil Corp. so I remained steadfast.

He gave in, and once my bonus money and advance on pay was in my Caymans account, and I had a key to one of Evil Corp.'s safe houses in the area, I started work on the projects.

A week later when I checked the phone Jay had given me there was a message. "Meet me at the same place, tomorrow, noon, don't bring anything with you."

When I got there Jay was already sitting on our favorite bench.

"What's up?" I asked.

"The proverbial good news/bad news. Which do you want first?" he replied.

"Yikes - the bad I guess."

"Even calling in favors I can't get it done for less than $20,000."

"WOW!" I exclaimed. "The good news better be really good, then."

"It is. As long as you are comfortable with the name 'Justin Reddy' I can get you papers and a history so good that even an analyst as talented as you are likely would never be able to ferret out the truth. It even includes your fingerprints and DNA in Justin Reddy's file in the FBI database, and no longer in your file," he responded with a diabolical grin.

"Hi, my names Justin Reddy, pleased to meet you," I laughed, extending my hand to Jay. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

As Jay gave me a fist bump he chortled "Unreal, huh. I was hoping for 80% deep cover for you and instead you're getting something close to bulletproof. Now open up and let me get a DNA sample," he continued, pulling a sampler swab from his suit jacket. Once he got his swab from inside my cheek he closed the container and said "Same as before; check around 5 p.m. every day for the time and place for a photo session and documents and money transfer."

Within three weeks I had my new and complete set of identity documents, a dossier with all of the background information for Justin Reddy, and I had completed my projects for Evil Corp. I was pleased when Jay - who was at the meeting whereby I exchanged $20,000 cash for my documents - didn't recognize me until I spoke. Not only was my face significantly different, but I had natural looking blond streaks in my brown hair, and brown contacts masking my blue eyes. If someone as observant as Jay didn't recognize me, I could be quite sure no one else would either.

Before I left the D. C. area I called my mother on her cell phone using the burner Jay had given me.

"Mom - I can't believe that you told Brett where I was. I guess you've picked sides," were the first things that I said to her.

"Jimmy - oh, Jimmy thank you for calling. I swear that I didn't want to tell anyone where you were but Dad convinced me that I had to tell Bret so that we could get things hashed out without destroying the family. You didn't have to hurt him so bad, he..."

I cut her off. "I don't give a shit about that fucking asshole," I yelled. I never swore around my mother, so that really got her attention, since there was a clearly audible gasp on the line. "The family is destroyed. There are just three purposes for my call. The first is to tell you that you, Dad, the asshole, and the slut will never hear from me again. The second is to ask you to tell the slut to file for divorce on the basis of abandonment. She doesn't have any material things that I want, and I've already cleaned out what was left in our joint checking account. Third, tell her that I wish her the most miserable fucking life ever!"

With that I ended the call. I removed the SIM card from the burner phone and crushed it. Then I did the environmentally responsible thing and recycled the burner phone at a Radio Shack.

************

As Justin Reddy I landed in San Francisco's airport a day later, with roughly $60,000 in a bank account in Justin's name, a high powered secure laptop, a business plan, and a personal agenda. In order, I found a cheap apartment, a cheap office but one with excellent Internet service, and where Giselle's sister Michelle lived and worked.

Why did I want to know where Michelle lived and worked? That was a major component of my revenge. It is something that I never would have thought myself capable a few years ago, but I had so much animosity toward Giselle and Bret that I wanted to make their lives miserable in any way that I could. Until I had made lots of money the best way to do that, in my now diabolical mind, was to get Michelle to fall in love with me and then dump her - perhaps multiple times. It would have a devastating effect on Giselle to have her sister emotionally distraught, and I didn't really care about Michelle.

My business plan started working very well. I offered to do a free introductory research project for companies in the greater San Francisco Bay area, and analyze the data. It didn't matter to me what the subject matter was because in working for The Company and Evil Corp. I had learned to find and handle almost any type of data. Ninety percent of the companies that took me up on my introductory offer became paying customers, and within eight months I had as much work as I could do, at a very high hourly rate, and with little overhead. After a year I was employing college students part time to help out, a high profit center. I was well on my way to reaching my financial goals.

Within ten months I had a real handle on Michelle's activities too. She seemed to leave a relatively quiet life. She worked as a hostess at a restaurant, and didn't seem to do much on the weekends, although I did see her with a date occasionally. It seemed that her "lazy eye" and poor eyesight limited her activities. There was one change in her routine that made her more accessible. She joined a health club.

I joined the same health club.

I wanted to encourage Michelle to make the health club an important part of her regime so I introduced myself, immediately engaged her in conversation, and complimented her dedication. At first she was a little standoffish. I thought that it might be because she recognized something about me despite the fact that I had only interfaced with her for two days more than a year ago, she had poor eyesight, and my face was entirely different. At the fourth session that we attended together, however, her attitude changed completely, and she became friendly.

Seducing Michelle was not the most difficult thing in the world. Since I was better looking and smarter than any other guy who had ever expressed an interest in her before, once she started friendly interaction with me it was clear that she was falling for me quickly.

My initial plan was to take it slowly with Michelle. However, since I was spending all of my time building my business and figuring out her schedule, etc., I was getting really horny. While I was looking for pussy, I didn't have enough time to have a high success ratio. I even used a high-priced call girl one weekend - it was a weekend where Giselle was visiting Michelle. I didn't want to be anywhere near Giselle, but the loss of my sex life with her came from the back of my mind to the forefront; hence the call girl.

The call girl - her name was Tammy - cost me $3,000 for the weekend but she was worth every penny. She used a new type of condom that I had never heard of before that was much closer to bareback than any other condom I had ever seen, and she stroked her pussy lips over my hard bare cock, while massaging my balls, just before intercourse. That technique almost drove me nuts. I fucked her six times that weekend (my most in that period of time, ever), including once in the ass. She was either extremely multi-orgasmic or the best actress in history. She was also very touchy-feely even when we weren't fucking.

A week after Giselle left I asked Michelle out on a date, during the day on a Sunday. Going to see a live performance was not a legitimate option in view of her poor eyesight, but a number of other activities were available. We went for a boat ride, had a picnic on an island, went to an amusement park, and went for a casual dinner. When I kissed her good night she was eager, and virtually slobbered what a great time that she had had.

During the date I had done everything I could to play up to what every other female I had ever known liked. I knew that it worked when Michelle gave me ga-ga eyes at the health club the Tuesday after our Sunday date.

Michelle's lazy eye and thick glasses made sure that no one would mistake her for a "beautiful" woman. However, her body was actually pretty nice, and by the time of our first date it was clear that it was getting better. I would estimate that since she started at the health club she had lost at least five pounds - where she wanted to lose it - and if she lost another ten pounds most guys would consider her to have an excellent body.

When I realized that I had gotten hard interacting with Michelle on the Wednesday after our date - when I got a decent look at her boobs while spotting her for some lifts - I discarded my "go slow" plan and instead decided that it was time to fuck her.

We went out on another nice date that Sunday, which included a late lunch. Neither of us was particularly hungry at normal dinner time so I invited her back to my apartment for a "snack." She was almost giddy in her acceptance. When I got her into my apartment I left no doubt about what I wanted.

"Michelle, I lied to you in getting you to come to my apartment," I said as I removed her glasses just a few seconds after the door to my apartment closed. "The snack I'm interested in is you."

Her responses to that and my following come-ons were not smooth, but it made no difference. She didn't resist at all as I took off her dress, bra, and panties. She seemed really excited when I exposed my dick. She was clearly hesitant as to what to do so I completely took over.

I laid her on my bed and went after her pussy. Her pussy had naturally sparse hair, a few shades lighter than the hair on her head. Her clitoris was very prominent; her pussy lips craggy and moist. She almost fishtailed off of the bed when my tongue came in contact with her clit.

As I licked, sucked, and fingered her pussy she experienced about the two most powerful orgasms that any partner I ever had had. She was virtually babbling by the time that I turned her over on her stomach and entered her from the rear. Her pussy was extraordinarily tight but so well lubricated that it only took three or four pushes to bury my cock balls deep. She emitted a constant "ooohhh" as I pummeled the shit out of her. When I rocketed charge after charge of jism into her the orgasm that she had made her previous two look mild by comparison.

Michelle was in no condition to go home after the first fuck, nor did she express any desire to. I really enjoyed fucking that snug pussy twice more that night, once with her ankles on my shoulders during which I bottomed out in her pussy, and once with her sitting on my lap facing away from me. During the last two fucks I vigorously manipulated her surprisingly meaty mammary glands, which had just the right combination of firmness and softness.

The next morning, after we had both done our business in the bathroom and then showered together (we were both handsy, but no sex), she stared at me with her weird lazy eye and giggled "Thank you Justin. That was the best night I've ever had in my life even if I won't be able to walk properly today."

"I am the one who should be thanking you. You're a great fuck!" I replied. I suddenly realized, after I said it, that I meant it. Despite my motives when I took her to bed I had thoroughly enjoyed myself. I also realized that it was very rare that I would have three orgasms in an eight hour period, but that it seemed just natural last night. I was also surprised that the eight to ten pounds of fat that she had on her torso and thighs wasn't the slightest bit a turn-off for me.

She blushed, looked down, and then said, "I am thrilled that you enjoyed yourself, because I never thought of myself as sexy. There is one problem, though. Well, uh,...I don't know how to say it."

"Then just come out with it," I grinned, "or I'll take you back to bed and fuck you again."

She blushed some more, then stammered. "Well, I'm not very sexually experienced, and I'm not on the pill, and I don't want to get pregnant,...and..."

I cut her off. "I'll take you to the drugstore on my way to work and you can get Plan B."

She got a quizzical look on her face. "What's Plan B?"

At first I thought that she was kidding and chuckled. When the quizzical look remained I said, "It's an after-intercourse birth control pill available at any drugstore. I'll even go in with you to buy it - and pay for it - if you want."

"Would you do that, please," she stuttered.

I did.

Tuesday, when we saw each other at the health club, she was all smiles, as was I. I asked her if we could end our session about ten minutes early since there was something I wanted to talk to her about. She readily agreed.

After our workout we went to my car and sat together in the front seat.

"Michelle - I really enjoyed sex with you Sunday. I'd like to establish a regular schedule with you for the future. Are you amenable?"

"Oh yes..." she blurted out, then suddenly got embarrassed and mumbled "what do you have in mind?"

"That you spend the night with me three or four times a week - I know that you have a roommate and I don't want to cause you trouble there. Also, I need for you go to a doctor and get on birth control pills," I quickly replied.

"I'd love that - but do you know if those pills are expensive? I don't know because I've always used a rubber before our encounter Sunday night, and I don't have coverage for them on my job's health plan."

"Not a problem. You bring me the prescription and I'll get them for you."