This is a tale of revenge and justice. There is no sex or violence except by reference..
Special Agent in Charge Rhonda Peters tried to hide her distaste as she looked at the agent in front of her. She was sure he felt the same though he didn't show it. It was a long time from when they had been fellow rookies at the academy.
Now she had just been appointed to head a small unit tasked with rooting out drug trafficking in federal prisons. Don Wilson was one of the best agents at combating the drug trade so no-one was surprised except him when she requested he be assigned to the unit.
"I've heard you are the best at undercover work Don. You'll need to be because I have a unique assignment for you if you're up to it. "
If she thought she'd get his goat by suggesting he wasn't capable enough she had another think coming.
"Whatever the job calls for ma'am."
"You may think differently after you hear what the job is and I won't fault you for refusing the assignment."
Like that was true. If word got around he'd refused an assignment no matter what it was . . . and word would get around, he was sure of it. So he just smiled at her.
"Well, then let me cut to the chase. We've gotten the drug trafficking in men's prisons under control. It's never going to be eradicated but the major players have been identified and taken out for now. So our focus has changed.
Our problem at the moment is the women's prisons. The bureau has so few female agents that are available and that can also cope with this kind of work that we can't get a handle on it.
What we need is someone tough enough and experienced enough to infiltrate the rings bringing drugs into the system and that's where you come in."
"You want me to be a guard? We've tried that before in men's prison's. You can never get close enough."
"I agree, that's why I'm asking you to go undercover as a prisoner."
"A prisoner? In a woman's prison? You have to be kidding me!"
"I'm not. You're not that big or overly muscled and your facial features are fine. I've been assured with a little work that we can make you pass for a woman even in the nude. You won't be a raving beauty just ordinary which is what we want anyway."
Hearing his new boss tell him he could pass as a woman even an ordinary one, especially with their history, made him wonder if she just wanted to embarrass him. He knew she thought he was the one but she had no proof and never would. Maybe this was her way of getting even. Still it must gall her to ask for his help.
"I don't believe it. Besides I'd need a good cover story."
"That's already in the works. Sounds like maybe you're on board?"
This was the important moment. Hopefully she had played it just right.
"I'm willing to try but once you see it isn't going to work you'll have to come up with another way."
"We won't know until you try. Here's an address of a company we use when a disguise is needed and discretion is required. The woman there will fit you with the prosthetics and make you up and then we'll decide together if it will work."
Don left, embarrassed and grumbling under his breath about harebrained ideas.
Rhonda reached for her burner phone and made a quick call.
"It's on, alert the others."
Don had a little trouble finding the address, surprised at the dingy storefront and rundown area it was located in. The woman answered the door before he even knocked.
"Rhonda said you were coming. Don't mind the shop. We have a lot of high end prosthetics and other devices inside and don't want to attract attention. Pardon the gloves, I was just getting things ready."
The woman closed and locked the door behind him and turned the small sign to Closed. He'd never touched the door. She led him to a back room.
"I know this might seem awkward and fitting the prosthetics can be more than a bit painful. I've found a little good Scotch usually helps make things easier. One or two fingers?"
Given what was about to happen Don said, "two. Actually I might need the full bottle," smiling and turning on the charm as he realized this woman was rather pretty. Maybe he'd check her out later. He was sure that she was another that needed what only Don could give.
"Oh I think two fingers will be enough Don. Why don't you get undressed behind that screen and put on the robe you'll find there."
Ron hastily downed the Scotch and went behind the screen. He got down to his boxers and pulled on the short silky robe.
He heard her voice over the screen say, "The boxers too Don. Don't be shy. I've seen it all before and I need to see what I need to hide."
Don dropped his boxers and came out from behind the screen grinning.
"There may be too much to hide."
"Hop up on the table Don and we'll see."
He felt a moment of dizziness as he awkwardly climbed on the table. It must be the Scotch on an empty stomach.
"How are you feeling Don, a little dizzy, maybe a little sluggish? It should be a familiar feeling as the rohypnols take effect. You've seen it work often enough haven't you?"
Too late he recognized the signs and wondered if this woman knew.
"Say good-bye to your old life Don. You won't be missed."
Don tried to get up but his legs wouldn't cooperate and he zoned out.
The woman made a call, "he's ready."
A short while later a nondescript van pulled up and he was hustled into it by several women. The woman closed the shop after making sure she had Don's clothes, taking his phone which would make its own trip to the docks and then disappear into the murky depths of the shipping channel.
She meticulously cleaned up every sign of anyone having been there, wiping down all the surfaces and bringing the doctored Scotch and glasses. Even if he remembered the place there would be nothing there to go on for she had actually broken in to the empty storefront by picking the lock and never took off her gloves.
It was ironic that they'd done to Don exactly what he had been doing to women for years. He'd never been caught, being way too careful and knew how to erase any trace of his presence. Now she was doing the same, erasing any trace of his presence.
Across town, a doctor entered the patient's room and asked if she was ready.
"More than ready, " said Belinda Green who was formerly Brian and was about to have the final surgery to remove that hated part of her past plus some additional plastic surgery for her face.
She'd been surprised when the woman came and made the offer to pay for her surgery and give her enough money to start over, a new identity, a new look and a job offer far away from here and her past as a transexual hooker. She was so thankful she never questioned or cared why. Once she healed she would be gone leaving behind everything she owned, all her ID and a record of the recent sexual reassignment surgery. The additional facial work would not appear in the records.
At the same time Don was being wheeled into a surgical suite at a private clinic while the plastic surgeon looked at the photos one more time. It would take a little work but in a few hours Ron would be Belinda's twin, including her new anatomy down below. He'd look sexy with the double D breasts and the Kardashian booty Belinda already had.
She knew men who would consider themselves lucky to become a woman; then she remembered what he was and what he thought of women and smiled. He wouldn't consider it lucky at all and he'd probably wish he was dead, just like some of his victims did, including her sister. She moved to insert the long term hormone implant first. As far as she was concerned one less penis in the world made it a better place, especially this one.
Rhonda listened as the women reported back to her on the burner phone. So far things were going exactly as planned. Now they just had to wait for both parties to heal to set the rest of the plan in motion.
It had been several months and Belinda had fully healed. It was time for her to leave. She left everything in her apartment just as if she was coming back including her purse with her old ID and departed in the car waiting for her outside.
Several women came soon after and wheeled a couple of large trunks up to Brenda's apartment. After carefully arranging everything they left with the empty trunks.
Several hours later the local police got a 911 call.
Don heard a banging as he slowly came to. His body felt funny and he felt very weak and then the door burst open and the police rushed in.
The sargeant took one look and radioed dispatch.
"Call for a bus and CSI. we have a dead body here."
Don tried to register what they were saying. Dead? He wasn't dead, he'd been roofied. He found his voice and said it out loud though it sounded funny, "I've been roofied."
"Yeah lady, save it for the judge. Turn around."
"Maybe you should let the woman clean up and put some clothes on first Sarge."
"Jones, get your ass in here and help this woman get cleaned up and dressed and then cuff her."
A stocky policewoman walked in, took in the scene and the naked woman sitting up on the bed, splattered in what looked like the dead man's blood.
"Better get some pictures and samples of that blood before I do don't ya think?"
Don blinked as several pictures were taken and a swab taken from the blood on his body. Then the woman hustled him into the shower and cleaned him up. Don was still too dazed to realize what was going on as the woman began dressing him. It slowly dawned on him that she was putting women's clothes on him and thought, "this must be part of the cover story," and just let it happen.
Then he heard a shout from the other room and a voice yell, "Hell, it's a Fed! Some guy named Don Wilson. We better call them in."
Don thought they were talking about him and then shockingly realized they were talking about the dead body as the Sargeant carefully held up a wallet and badge. This couldn't be happening.
Rhonda Peters answered the phone and smiled to herself while she expressed shock and dismay over the news she heard on the phone. She told the police she'd be there in thirty minutes. She made a quick call and then was on her way.
A few minutes later the national fingerprint and DNA database went down with a virus and the backup database had to be activated. No-one would ever know that the John Doe's fingerprints and DNA records had been substituted for Don's, or that Don's were substituted for Belinda Green's in the backup database month's earlier when it wouldn't be noticed.
Arriving at the scene she saw Don sitting on the bed in cuffs and obviously very confused. She introduced herself to the officer in charge then carefully knelt down and looked at the body. The plastic surgeon had done good work on the John Doe's face, he looked enough like Don to fool anyone and after the autopsy was performed by another of Don's victims confirming Don had died from blunt force trauma and they checked the records no-one would question the ID.
She turned to Don and said, "so this is the alleged assailant?"
Don tried to say something and the officer told her to shut it.
"Her name's Belinda Green and from what we can determine is a transexual. We're thinking your agent here found out she wasn't a real woman and maybe tried to hurt her and she grabbed that statue and bashed in the back of his head."
"Well she doesn't seem to have any bruises and there isn't much sign of a struggle. Looks more like a lover's quarrel to me. Check under her fingernails and check him for scratches."
"Rhonda, it's me Don. Is this part of the cover story? Whatever is going on I didn't kill that man and he's definitely not me."
"She mentioned being roofied, so I'd take everything she says with a grain of salt ma'am."
"Sorry, I've never seen you before, Belinda is it? That man on the floor is, or was, one of the FBI's best agents. I hope they throw the book at you."
"Get her out of my sight officer."
Protesting loudly that this was all a mistake Don was led away in cuffs and taken to the local police station where he was booked as Belinda Green despite his protests. He was thoroughly embarrassed as the police matron had him strip and his double D breasts sprang free. She performed a cavity search on the vagina he didn't even realize he had until she carefully probed inside it and then Belinda's anus with her gloved hands.
She had him pull on a pair of prison issue cotton panties and a bra that barely contained his large breasts that she had to fasten for him when it was apparent he couldn't do it for himself. Finally she pulled an orange prison jumper over his head. They took his photo, fingerprints and a swab from inside his mouth and he was sure that once they got the results back they'd realize their mistake.
Back in her office Rhonda called another number and told the woman on the other end of the line, "just show him the note and make sure to destroy it immediately afterward."
It was all coming together. Finally she and all the others he'd raped would have justice. It had taken years for her to prove it to herself but the proof she had would never hold up in court for Don had been too careful. It wasn't even enough for a search warrant but it was enough for her. If he hadn't shot her that knowing glance the morning after she never would have suspected him.
Over the years she had found out a lot more about Don Wilson. He had never married or even had a girlfriend but while working undercover with the local police force a large supply of rohypnols had disappeared and it was rumored that cash had gone missing too, but then dealers always said they were ripped off. He had applied to and been selected to attend the academy in the same class as her based on his record.
One night she and the other trainees had all been out drinking at one of their favorite hangouts. The next thing she knew she woke up in a sleazy motel room and from the soreness she felt between her legs knew she had been raped. She also could tell there was no proof. She could smell the bleach and there was no semen, nothing that would help her find her attacker.
She'd showered multiple times but it didn't wash away that dirty feeling. She should have talked to someone but knew if it got back to her superiors that they'd pull her out of the academy temporarily for counseling and she'd fall behind the others and maybe even lose her place. So she resolved to put it completely behind her until she saw his leering face the next morning and knew.
She didn't know how but one day she swore she'd make him pay. Her research had put him at places and times that other girls had been roofied and raped and there were too many instances for it to be coincidence.
She started talking to the other girls and discussed her findings about Don. They agreed with her but knew there was nothing they could do - until she got the promotion and came up with the plan. They all contributed what money they could and offered whatever skills they had. It was more than enough.
Belinda, that was what everyone called her, couldn't post bond, not that a judge would have granted it when she was arraigned. Not in a capital murder case of a federal agent. She found it hard to fathom that she'd been arrested for killing herself - himself. It was difficult to keep things straight. She was definitely female now. She couldn't deny what she saw or felt and knew that Rhonda somehow had something to do with what happened to her.
It had not been pleasant in the holding cell with the whores and other female riffraff she was in with. Only her physical training had kept her from being assaulted but some of the girls were big and if a couple of them ganged up on her . .
Then her name was called. She didn't react at first but realized that that was her name and she got up as the cell door opened. The guard cuffed her and escorted her to an interrogation room. She was smart enough not to talk until she had an attorney so they were wasting their time. She knew she was in it up to her eyeballs but was still hoping that the prints would come back and prove who she really was and they would realize this was all one big cockup.
To her surprise it wasn't a detective in the room but a woman lawyer from the public defender's office. The woman looked all business as she sat down and the guard left. She didn't waste any time.
"The DA is trying to keep this local Belinda, but the FBI wants a federal prosecutor. This state doesn't have a death penalty which is why I think the Feds desperately want to prosecute. I have to say the evidence is overwhelming."
"Did my prints come back? Surely when they see who I am this will all change."
Don was reluctant to say who he really was or talk about what happened until he could figure out what was going on. Until then she'd go along with being Belinda.
"Your prints came back and it's going to be tough with your background as a transexual with multiple felony prostitution convictions on your record. You're lucky you had the final surgery Belinda or the DA could be trying you as a man."
That set Belinda back. HER prints were on file? Convictions? She sensed a noose around her neck that was getting tighter and tighter. Even claiming she was a man wouldn't help since that was what this Belinda character had been until her surgery. She asked if she could see her picture.
It was a strange request but the public defender was prepared and pulled out a picture. That alone should have made her wonder but she was still confused. Belinda looked at it and could see the resemblance. If she had a mirror she would have seen it looked exactly like her because it was a picture that had been taken of her after she healed from her surgeries. The public defender then added another nail in her coffin.
"They've been able to trace the money that paid for your SRS to a Cayman account, the same account that Don Wilson was wiring money to. The DA is going to say you were lovers and his murder was a falling out between thieves.
He's going for second degree murder but I think we can get the charge down to manslaughter if you plead guilty. That would keep the trial out of federal court and keep the death penalty off the table."
"Manslaughter, that's five to twenty years! Maybe I should take my chances in court."
"Remember who the new AG is? Don't you think he would like to prosecute and make an example of someone like you?"
Belinda shuddered at the thought, but a trial also meant a chance to prove who she really was. She was about to insist on a trial when the public defender handed her an envelope. And in a low voice said,
"I suggest you read the note inside MR. WILSON before you make any decision."
That tore it. Her lawyer was in on it, whatever it was. There was no way she was going down for this. She began to speak but the lawyer cut her off.
"The note. You better read the note before you say something you'll regret."
Belinda looked at the note, wondering what could be in there that would change her mind. She slid the note out, unfolded it and began to read.
It will be of interest to you to know that after Don Wilson went missing the FBI searched his house for clues to his disappearance. Imagine their surprise when they found Don's souvenirs and the videos plus a supply of rohynols and a large amount of cash. Apparently he was a serial rapist and those souvenirs were his trophies. Privately the FBI wants nothing to do with him and are happy he's dead. The thought that a rapist had been working for them for years right under their noses was abhorrent. Publicly however they want you prosecuted to the full extent of the law as an object lesson. Don Wilson's name is now despised by every agent so if you expect any help from any of Don's old friends forget it.
You might still be thinking of taking your chances in court but the public defender will show you the evidence they have against you and we know you are going to lose. If you claim to be Don Wilson in court the women in the prison you end up in will know that not only are you a transexual but a former rapist. Just what do you think your life will be worth if that word gets around Belinda?
I suggest you plead guilty and accept your punishment. Think of it as justice for all the women Don raped.
Belinda's fingers turned white as she crumpled the note in her hands and let it drop to the floor where the public defender quickly picked it up and put it away.
Those bitches had her by the balls. Well they already had Don's balls now they were just finishing her off. She also knew that it could have just as easily been her dead on the floor if they'd wanted. If word got out of who she really was then nowhere would be safe for her and she would be dead within days. She really had only one option if she wanted any chance to stay alive and somehow gain her freedom.
"All rise, the Honorable Judge Patricia Abernathy presiding."
"I understand the defendant wishes to enter a plea."
"We do your honor."
"The defendent will rise and state so for the record.
Having been advised of your rights to a trial and proper defense, how do you plead to the charge of voluntary manslaughter?"
Belinda grimaced and said the words the audience behind her was waiting to hear. She'd seen them when she was led in, most of Don's victims, here to finally see justice meeted out even if it were for a non-existent crime. He could tell by the looks on their faces that they knew who she really was.
"Guilty, your honor."
"Having received your plea the court will now pass sentence.
In light of your previous record and absent any defense for your actions the court sentences you to twenty years with no possibility of parole on one count of Voluntary Manslaughter. The sentence to begin being served immediately in a federal prison. This court is adjourned."
Twenty years! As a woman, surrounded by women and no longer able to give them what Don knew they needed and deserved. And then the awful thought struck her, she was one of them now. That meant she would need that too! A low moan escaped her as she realized it.
She had no illusions about her fate. Transexuals were the lowest of the low and most lesbians hated them and many prisoners were lesbians by choice or out of necessity. She was sure she'd end up someone's bitch, being used for their satisfaction and getting none of her own, simply because HE wasn't there to give it to her and never would be. She cried out in anguish as she realized this need that would eventually consume her. She felt the guard's hand on her shoulder ready to lead her away.
There was a sigh of satisfaction immediately behind her. Turning she saw Rhonda there and she shot Belinda a knowing glance as she was led away.
Rhonda was fuming. Even after discovering what Don Wilson was the FBI had decided not to close the rape cases or make the victims aware that their assailant was dead. They were too afraid of the black mark it would give the FBI to give the victims peace of mind.
It was a good thing that his victims already knew or Rhonda might have done something she'd regret. They also knew that he was receiving the justice the FBI refused to give them and were satisfied.
Rhonda was going to quit until she realized she now had a network of women willing to do whatever it took to take men like Don Wilson and serve them the justice they deserved. Don was the first but he wouldn't be the last.
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