In the Future many things will be possible making the most wonderful of dreams come true. However, it should always be remembered that nightmares are also dreams.

Pesky Disclaimer that I almost forgot!
This is loosely based on an old TV Game show and other fiction based off of it. This is my interpretation. I'm not making a dime off of this because I don't own nothing!

Thanks as always goes the marvelous Cathy! Thanks Hon!

“You'll never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy.” I quoted from one of my most favorite George Lucas films to my friend Darlene.

It was with great tribulation that I eyed the Caribbean Paradise of Isle de Tempete. Island of Storms. That was because like it's name says the place was right in the sweetest spot in the Caribbean to be hit by damn near every hurricane that came anywhere vaguely near it or so it seemed.

A couple of decades ago the place looked like reaching third world status would've been a great achievement. Poor with little to no worthwhile natural resources, the natives barely survived day to day much less year to year.

That all changed when a group of wealthy, but old and dying assholes decided to live forever or at least as long as their money held out. Nanotechnology could accomplish miracles, but some of those techniques weren't exactly moral much less legal in the rest of the world. Nearly every country in the world forbid the sort of procedures required to make an old fart with too much money young again.

“Aw, come on, Gene.” Darlene batted her false lashes at me. “It's not that bad.”

“I suppose we didn't have to sign 'Lack of Liability' papers just to get on the boat?” My sarcasm was thick enough to cut the BS. This place was dangerous with a capitol D. Unlike the usual picturesque island paradise, rather than look rundown, the port looked new and modern. It wasn't exactly because of blood money, but it wasn't 'clean' either.

“Well,” My transsexual friend admitted, “That is why it is recommended to have friends along.”

“And that is why I came.” My smile was genuine. “You are my friend and I like you just the way you are.

“Not the way a bunch of,” I rethought my words. Such things could get me and her in more trouble than we wanted. “Island bureaucrats with too much power might want to remake you.”

“Gene,” her voice showed more of her masculine birth as she turned serious. “This place lives and breathes medical tourism. Of all the world this is the one place where I can be rebirthed as the person I should've been in the first place.

“The miracles they can do here have saved so many lives.” But then she sighed. “Yes, it can also be abused. I know it and you know it. The people in charge here also know it, so behave, you hear me, Mister?”

We both knew she wasn't talking about the native bureaucrats. The Billionaires, that more or less bought the place, were the real rulers here and they did abuse their power. They transformed those who angered them into everything from hybrid animals to sexual toys. Stories of their vengeance bordered on that of the gods of myths and legends.

“I understand.” Damn right I did! “I have no desire to piss off anyone who can turn me into just about anything they want. I'll be a good boy.”

“Perhaps they have power that no one should, but nothing comes without cost.” She smiled, reaching for my hand.

“I know, I know.” Smiling back, I held her hand. More than a few people have thought we were lovers, but really we were just very old and good friends. We'd meet many years ago serving together in the Army and our friendship had survived thick and thin ever since.

Darlene's coming 'out' had set my world spinning, but after having some time to get my head straight, our friendship became even stronger. I wasn't 'that way' but I knew some folks had a hard time accepting that gals and guys could just be friends. Once 'she' was my brother, now she was my sister. It was real easy in the end. Just like the guy with the pointed ears said, 'You are and always have been my friend.'

'Nuff Said!

Going through customs wasn't difficult. We only had to show our visas, passports as well as the signed and notarized 'Enter at own risk' papers. They didn't even look at our baggage.

Now, leaving would be a whole other enchilada. The type of nanotechnology practiced here was verboten in just about every country in the whole world. Before we would be allowed to leave, any nanites had to be either, removed or absolutely inert, dead with no chance of revival.

The decon procedures and the scanning were as intrusive and unpleasant as they came. Yes, we had to sign yet more papers saying we knew all of that too!

On the other hand, once we got out of the city of Sainte Trinite's passenger terminal, nothing too outrageous was visible. Much like Kuwait, the natives were treated like royalty and received a very healthy income just for breathing. All the menial workers were immigrants mostly from poorer nearby islands.

The not 'too' part referred to how attractive the populace appeared. No one was fat, limped, or even had baldness except for those who I guess wanted the Kelly Savalas look. I'd gotten a lot of this from various internet sites and forums. Even the workers were 'upgraded' so to present the best face to the customers.

Knowing what to look for, I found the pins they wore indicating what clinic did their 'improvements' advertising at the most base level. Besides that everything shouted of the money invested in this place.

The roads were the new solar energy ceramic cobblestones that took full advantage of the Caribbean sunny weather. The buildings were all storm resistant and bustled with business. Even the usual crazy island paradise traffic had orderly bike paths and well kept vehicles very much a different from the colorful buses running only because of courtesy of bailing wire and excessive elbow grease.

Darlene squealed as our cab pulled up. Smiling, I understood, at least intellectual, her excitement. She'd saved up for years for this and had withstood me and my doubts about the wisdom of coming here to Isle de Tempete.

“It's not wise to race into the storm!” I half-joked with her.

Unfortunately, she was right about what this place offered. Almost any hospital could use the wider medical community's approved nanites to give her a feminine appearance. Only in the Eye of the Storm could she be rebuilt as a functioning woman. The key words here are appearance and and functioning.

From my failed marriage, I had no idea why anyone would ever want to menstruate. My Ex, the Wicked Witch of the East,West, and all points between had made my life an unforgettable hell during those 'times' which all too soon became 'all' the time.

'Insensitive clod' I may well be, I'd never learned how to read minds. Nope, couldn't do it then and can't do it now. Even the ethically challenged doctors here haven't figured that one out, at least not yet.

“Hey,” I laughed, “Calm down! You don't have your first appointment till tomorrow.”

“I just feel like all of my dreams are coming true!” Her voice kinda broke at that. “Finally, I get to be me and my closest friend is at my side.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I grumbled theatrically. “Just try and keep the after procedure shopping down to only a few hours. I'm not as young as I used to be!”

“You could get that seen to while we're here.” Darlene elbowed me.

“Not no,” I kept my smile with effort. “But hell no! Doctors are here to fix the things that go wrong. I've earned my bald spot, wrinkles and my pot belly.” Patting my slight middle age spread, that had developed despite staying active. Courier work had become even more important in the world, given the problems with network and data security issues. Hackers were an ever present danger and the only way to completely avoid the problem was to hand carry data from one stand-alone system to another.

I, with my security clearance and military training, was a perfect fit. Mind you I never was a combat type, but instead worked on the intelligence side of the house. I already knew the procedures and protocols for keeping information safe, which gave me an advantage on the paperwork side of the business.

Additionally, if someone really wanted something they were going to get it if they were willing to pay enough. Fortunately for me hackers or the ones who hire them weren't the type to ambush armored vans and the ones who could hire mercenaries normally decided to throw money at corrupting a employee, creating an inside man instead. It was simply a better investment than hijacking an armored van and armed guards.

The one time I had run into a confrontation, through common sense, and I acknowledge more than a little luck, things had worked out to my benefit. Hell, I'd even gotten one hell of a bonus from not only my company, but the clients as well.

That had turned into my retirement fund which was a good thing since the Ex had cleaned me out until the bitch had been stupid enough to off herself with an overdose that even the miraculous medical science of today could revive. I hadn't rejoiced because at one time I had really loved her, but she'd made her bed and had slept in it. These days with my simple needs, I was actually in the green with savings no less.

The occasional Science Fiction and Fantasy convention did cause hits to my account, but hey, it was a part of who I was, right down to the 'Vulcan' ears in my display case. They sat right next to my 'sonic screwdriver' replica and my dagger, 'Sting.'

“Luddite,” she huffed playfully. “If you can fix it, why not?”

“I'm happy with who I am.” Shrugging, I opened the door as we arrived at the Islander Hotel. “Here we are, but I wonder how long you'll be able to sit still.”

“You!” Darlene gave me a little shove, not that I budged an inch. I was pretty solidly built and she had worked hard at having something that resembled a feminine figure. As a matter of fact she had to put on some pounds so the nanites could do their work safely. You can't build the Taj Mahal Hall without the construction materials to do so.

“Here you go my lady.” I held out my arm, channeling 30 some odd years of role-playing. “May all your dreams come true.”

“Why thank you kind sir!” Her wide smile said it all.

She was my dearest friend.

The very sophisticated machine bordered on artificial intelligence with the way it ran the Isle of Storms. From the traffic control system, public utilities, immigration, and police, to the day to day administration and bureaucracy, MC3 controlled it all.

A part of its duties were making certain that the Masters' special 'needs' were meet. In some cases it was assisting in a kidnapping to lining up contestants for the 'games' they favored and played.

This particular game was 'Royals or Serfs' that was better known as 'Princess or Slave.' Normally they very seldom lacked available contestants, but an unfortunate accident had caused an opening. MC3 could simply have moved everyone up one slot, but the Masters did enjoy when things were shaken up from time to time.

Last year with that involuntary contestant who had literally willed themselves to death after the participating audience had decided on a set of changes that very much went against their mindset had caused some problems. Public relations were always very vital to the Isle, given most of the rest of the world saw them in a negative light despite the unique services they offered.

Additional precautions were put in place so that would not be happening again, but the damage was done. What was needed was a contestant whose story could be spun to positive effect while still interesting the Masters.

Microseconds later a list was complied while a series of programs investigated each one for suitability. A selection was made.

Gene Rodgers Aldric was accompanying a Darlene Jane Franklin on a standard medical tourism visit. They were life long friends although psychological profiles confirmed reported evidence that romance was not involved. It was something MC3 could work with.

More information going from financial and covering both Aldric and Franklin's military records were gathered and compiled into a summery and report. An interesting datum appeared. Aldric had been involved with foiling one of the Masters' schemes at acquiring a necessary document that would've leveraged the buyout of a property that was of interest.

Perhaps it'd been a minor incident and the man had been only acting as contracted, but the Masters' very rarely ever forgot a slight. To have someone literally walk into their control was something that could not be ignored.

If the computer could've frowned it would have. How did it miss this during the immigration and visa checks? Still disgruntled, it was traced back to Aldric's security company's policy of keeping employee's identities confidential. MC3 had found the link only by backtracking the bank records.

An amended protocol insured that such overlooked data would not happen again. A recommendation and report were sent to the Masters human assistants for approval. It went on with the work of managing an island empire uncaring of the human life it had put in jeopardy.

In the end it was just a computer running a program after all.

“Would it do any good for me to tell you to calm down again?” I couldn't help laughing. I'd seen first 'him' and then 'her' from everything from sad, happy, depressed, pissed off, and just about everything in-between. However this was the first time I'd ever seen her ecstatically overwhelmed with joy.

“But my appointment went great!” Darlene's eyes glowed. “I had my first injection of nanties and tomorrow morning I'll get the second!”

“And the actual transformation is set for that afternoon.” Grinning, I finished her sentence. “I know! You've only told me about a dozen times or so.”

“I'm suppose to pig out the rest of today and tomorrow morning.” She went over the doctor's directions. “Then it's fasting until after my re-birth.”

“Well, even with those tiny machines in you, food can only be digested just so fast.” I reasoned. “You still have to be put out just like for any surgery. Nobody likes someone being sick all over them. Besides, being rebuilt like you've shown me has got to be painful.

“Come on.” I took my friend's arm. “Let's check out that list of recommended food. I'm getting nibblish myself.”

“I thought you would never ask.” Darlene giggled. “Lead on kind sir!”

The teleconference connected a half dozen of the most powerful men and one woman on the planet. Most certainly more women were part of the wider circle of Masters, but these were the founders, the ones with the ambition and the dream as well as more importantly the power to make it reality.

Security and secrecy still ruled their interactions. Thus they never revealed their actual identities or faces. The silhouettes they used did have security identifiers so that they knew who they were talking with as well as to foil covert actions against them.

“There is no doubt.” Alpha stated plainly. “This Aldric is the perfect contestant. I am less happy that using him will mandate at the very least a scripted happy ending, but I will get my pound of flesh. He caused me a considerable amount of wasted effort.”

“It will be good for the ratings.” Delta acknowledged. “Subscriptions are down after that 'incident' last year. This will boost the pay-for-views as well as the premium memberships.”

The Princess or Slave game show advertised itself as being the chance to achieve your dreams, but in truth it was a highly profitable venture that allowed 'members' to vote on a choice of penalties for contestants. It allowed the common masses a taste of the kind of power the Masters possessed.

“How many rounds are you thinking?” Beta inquired. “Go too far and even the stupidest viewer will know it's not a happy ending at all.”

“Far enough to ensure Aldric will not have a job.” Alpha's stony face was almost gleeful if you knew what to look for.

“That means no career change.” Zeta grunted. “That's one of the most popular alternations seeing the high and mighty reduced to menial labor.”

“It's just Bread and Circuses.” Delta remarked. “That will still satisfy the masses, although we should think about using our votes to engineer ties for additional transformations. That will help satisfy our usual viewers since we're reducing the number of rounds.”

Nods went across the screens. They as Inner Circle got to see the voting results before they were posted and had the chance to add theirs to the ones of their choice. It was still mostly honest despite like any profitable game, it was skewed heavily in the favor of the House or in this case the Masters.

“That's fine.” Alpha agreed. “For him to suffer for the inconvenience he caused he has to, needs to, still be aware. An empty headed nymphet without a thought in her pretty head does not provide that.”

“I call for the vote.” Delta followed protocol.

No one was surprised at the tally. Instructions went out to the Princess or Slave's active 'organizers.'

There was a contestant to be 'volunteered.'

“No you don't” I guided Darlene away from the display of freshly baked pastries. It took some willpower on my part too. They did smell good, but I wasn't about to tempt or tease my friend by eating when she couldn't.

Considering the breakfast she put away, it surprised me despite knowing she was overflowing with fuel hungry nanties. Still after missing lunch I was getting hungry, big breakfast or not. On the other hand missing a meal was nothing new for me. It was all part of the job, and that was not counting my middle-age breadbasket about my waist.

“I know.” She grumbled. “Nothing but water. That doesn't mean I'm not ready to start chewing on your arm!”

“No worse than being on a field problem soaking wet and freezing cold when Lt. I-can't-find-my-own-ass got us lost.” I reminded her of one of the times that both of us had been absolutely miserable.

“I thought the First Sergeant was going tear him to bits right in front of the whole company.” Darlene giggled.

“Perish the very thought of Top Bailey acting so unprofessional.” I grasped my chest dramatically. “I do know that Captain Lee, all five feet four of her did ream the LT out, but good, out of sight.”

“After suitable coaching by First Sergeant Bailey before hand of course.” She added lost in tour old Army memories.

“Of course.” Grinning, I lead her down the market street. Today was about the only day we were going to have just to waste time and it helped keep Darlene occupied during the wait. “She reminded him that officer or not he was the least educated of the whole squad. Intelligence analysts one and all, half of us were fully qualified as cartographers. Maps were our bread and butter.

“Yeah, he was an idiot.” She agreed. “Hogging the only map while insisting he wasn't lost was just normal male BS. It took less than twenty minutes to get us un-lost once we got the map.”

“Hey, I'm not that bad!” Defending myself, I headed for a table that didn't sell food. “Besides, the Captain did point out that stupid shit like that got people killed. When you have experts and specialists available, you use them.”

“So true.” Darlene sighed, misquoting. “Those were the best of times and the worst of times.”

“It was the people that made them so.” I added trying to ignore the surveillance that covered this whole island. It made the controversial camera coverage in London seem sparse the way even the alleys were covered.

Only an idiot more stupid than even LT. Brown even thought about trying to steal anything here. You would get caught and it was damn near a guarantee that they would end up on one of the Isle's twisted game shows. Ending as a sex toy, or a 'pet' with no rights was pretty much the same as a death sentence. Whatever made you, you was gone. I think I heard Darlene call it identity death once. Dead was dead.

“So what do you think?” I looked at my so battered old watch. “Time to head back?”

“Yes!” Darlene exclaimed nearly starting to hop and skip.

“Well, okay then.” Smiling, I let her drag me along. I'd spied the small bar and grill that I'd been told about. It was close to the hospital and it was said to have decent fare. That was good enough for me. With a full belly, I had a good book I wanted to finish. Pretty much a perfect night to try and keep from worrying about my friend.

The place to go for medical transformations or not it was still 'a hive of scum and villainy.'

The two suited men followed the pair on their way to the tranny's appointment. After working together for so long they kept up a constant meaningless banter that had nothing to do with their 'subjects' of interest.

“Well, Mr. Perez I do believe you owe me 20 Francs.” Despite being of different races both were short, stocky and swarthy men not that either had been born that way. Having lived rather 'exciting' lives a change in appearance had brought their loyalty to their current employers. “Costa Rica never had a chance against the Netherlands.”

“I rather thought Jermaine would've made more of a difference.” The other replied, handing his partner the cash with a callused hand. Both were well practiced in violence. “He was not at the top of his game.”

“True,” The Asian folded the money putting it away in his suit's jacket. Carrying weapons made it unwise to dig for his wallet. Having sufficient money easy to reach, but not a temptation for thieves was a hard habit to break despite living here on the Isle of Storms. “However, as good as Costa Rica has proven to be, their odds against South Korea is less favorable.”

“I agree, Mr. Wong.” The Hispanic nodded, tracking their 'subjects' as they entered the nanotechnology clinic. “It should be a good game, but I'm hesitant to lay down money. However, Diamonque is fighting Serilda this weekend in San Diego. That German is a tank and I think she'll tear that Muay Thai bimbo to pieces.

“Ridiculous, Mr Perez!” Boxing lacks the flexibility to deal with Diamonque despite being able to tank hits. It's far better to not get hit at all. I'll put the usual 20 Francs on my girl from Australia.”

“Done, Mr. Wong.” They didn't show a sign of them picking up their subject as he left the clinic heading straight for the Storm Center Bar and Grill.

“I do believe I could use a brew.” The Hispanic's eyes gleamed. This was going to be so easy.

“I'm feeling a bit dry myself.” The Asian answered, smiling like a shark sensing blood in the water. “Shall we?”

“We shall, Mr. Wong.” The other replied. “Oh yes, we shall.”

“How do you feel?” A nurse asked her.

“A bit out of sorts, but not bad.” She carefully stretched a little. “A little sore and stiff, I guess.”

“That's normal.” Nurse Simms smiled checking a data pad. “With a nanite transformation like yours, your muscles and bones are still settling into their new configurations. In the old days you would be looking a weeks of physical therapy, but give you another few hours you'll be able to walk out.”

“Yay,” Darlene smiled, meaning every word. “For modern medicine. Do you have a mirror?”

“One of the first things all of our patients ask for.” Nurse Simms laughed. “A hand mirror is on your nightstand, but be careful. Your coordination is likely still off.”

“This is a test isn't it?” She carefully reached for and picked up the mirror.

“The more you get used to your new self the quicker the entire process will be.” The nurse watched ready to help if needed.

Darlene evaluated the face she saw. It was very close to the one she and the doctor had talked over and decided on. Not a classical beauty, but attractive and one that could've been an aunt's or niece face perhaps. Her as she should be, finally!

Gray eyes and her dark hair went well together, she thought. The heart shape pleased her much more that that old Kirk Douglas chin from hell. Just as nice was the late twenties appearance instead of nearly fifty although that was as much a side-effect of being rebuilt by nanotechnology.

All that nasty plaque and other unwanted products accumulated during a half century of life was mostly used as fuel for the ever hungry tiny machines. A fountain of youth it wasn't, but it did tend to make one come out ahead despite the incredible stresses changing put on the body. She would likely live another fifty or more years and keep in relative good health.

Speaking of good health or more to the point the lack there of.

“Where's my friend, Gene?” She wondered if he'd wandered off looking for some of the infamously unhealthy food he was so fond of. He was her best friend and she worried about him.

“Well, you see he got into some trouble.” The nurse wouldn't meet her eyes. “He got drunk and started a fight.”

“Oh no.” Darlene buried her face in her hands. This was so not good. Gene had never been in any kind of trouble at all with the exception of a traffic ticket and a parking citation or two. Add to the fact that he rarely drank at all, it was very suspicious and suggestive that somehow he'd been 'noticed' by those who were very, very powerful and dangerous.

“He doesn't drink much.” She sighed. “And when he does, he's sleepy just from a dose of NyQuil and is out like a light.”

“Oh,” Nurse Simms got it.

“Can I use my tablet?” The recently changed woman asked. “I have a lot of research to do.”

“Honey,” the nurse tried to comfort her. “If it's what you're thinking there is not much anyone can do.”

“Perhaps, I can't.” Darlene firmed her resolve. “But I have friends.”

I would've moaned again if it hadn't hurt so much the first time. Opening my eyes was a mistake too, but I had to see where the hell I was. It didn't help much since the whole world was a giant blur.

All that did was make me frantically look for something to throw up in. I mostly made it, not that it fixed anything. At most it was one less thing to clean up. Now more alert I could see I was in a detention cell.

Okay, really not good.

That gave me the focus to search for the last thing I remembered. There was this bar and I had ordered a grilled steak sandwich with the works. The waitress had been rather cute and friendly.

Everything else was a gray haze like having a dream I only vaguely recalled in flashes that made no real sense.

Holding my aching head, that set off alarms all over the place. Pretty young things out clubbing ain't the only ones who have to worry about being drugged. One of my fellow couriers had gotten it in his morning coffee. The poor bastard ended up naked in a ditch without his vehicle or the confidential parcels he'd signed out for delivery.

Because of that, all of us had been warned about the dangers and what to look for. The thing was most guys usually aren't that careful or aware. It's blind spot the bad guys look for, but I was careful, damn it!

Unfortunately I couldn't do a thing if it'd been added to my food or a pair working together had got me. One as the distraction, while the other slipped me the drug. The thing was all the surveillance on this piece of paradise it should've caught who or whatever in the act.

If not, then someone with real pull and power wanted me in the system and that was not good at all. I had no desire to end up a sex toy, a puppy, cat or any other kind of pet, for kinky purposes or not!

I'm happy being me, damn it!

A normal looking guy who can make a decent living and who's a bit of a geeky nerd.

This place could chew me up and what came out wouldn't be me at all. That's besides not knowing what in the world I did wrong to end up here. Perhaps I should've watched my words more carefully, but I didn't think I'd said anything too out of line or critical of the current regime.

What worried me more was that Darlene could be caught up in this shit too.

Turn that 'could' into a damn certainty.

The big problem was I was clueless about what was going on.
I had not a clue as to what I did or what they say I did. How was Darlene? Did she make her transformation okay or was that interfered with as well?

Until I got some answers all I could do was sit here feeling like the whole world hated me.

Then my defense council walked in.

“I'm Dominic Alaverz.” The man walked in carrying a tablet. “I'm your court appointed defense attorney.”

“So how bad it it?” I asked, “I haven't a clear memory of what happened. I went into a Bar and Grill for a late lunch and woke up here.”

“You're in considerable trouble.” The man wouldn't meet my eyes. “Multiple accounts of assault and battery as well as causing quite a bit of property damage.

“Some five thousand Francs worth.” He checked his notes.

“What exactly does that mean for me?” I took a deep breath, he knew I was being set up. I was sure of it. Anywhere else it might've meant something, but not here. The big bosses in charge decided what the law was and for some reason they didn't like me.

“With conclusive verifiable video evidence.” Alvarez stated, “You've already been found guilty. At this point it's only the punishment that is left to be decided.”

I nodded. There was good damn reasons why the State Department advised against travel here. Just forget a jury of peers or innocent before being proved guilty and any other thoughts of true justice.

“Judge Demarco has ruled against leveling fines. He feels that justice would be best serve in other ways.”

My stomach roiled like an active volcano. The Isle did not have prisons. Their jails worked just fine as the temporary holding facilities they were intended to be. Why would they need prisons when they could warp anyone into just about just anything they want?

Here paying your debt to society might very well mean from doing it on your back to becoming a 'service' animal. I really didn't want to move down the evolutionary ladder. Most days I felt it was difficult enough to just stay where I was in spite of Darlene's playful allegations that guys stood lower than the ladies any way.

All guys aren't cavemen looking to drag a woman away. Her reply was maybe not, but enough are. That I couldn't argue since I'd heard more than my fill of locker room talk that supported her, damn it!

“However,” he straightened his tie. “The Gaming Authority has offered to buy out your 'service' in exchange for you becoming an contestant on one of their programs.”

And there was the carrot after showing the stick.

“Do you have any recommendations?” I was curious because, he did know I'd been set up and I suspected had orders to steer me in a given direction.

“Mr. Aldric,” my defense adviser sighed. “There aren't any good choices here, only less bad. Thrown into the general service pool, I don't think you'll survive with your mind and sense of self intact. Someone wants you broken. It might only be just enough to convince you to take the Gaming Authority's offer because that seems to be where 'they' want you.

“So accepting the contestant thing now will save me from abuse meant to convince me take their offer?” Okay, I got that I'm being railroaded and whoever did it had pretty specific plans involving one of those damn mixed up game shows. The bits I'd seen did not help my lack of faith in my fellow human beings.

“That's debatable.” The poor guy winced. “There is a chance that you could walk away as rich as any Prince.”

“But the odds are not in my favor.” I continued for him. Obviously Mr. Alvarez did not like this situation.

“House odds, Mr. Aldric.” he shrugged helplessly. “The General Service Pool does have some rules of what can and can't be done to you. The Gaming Authority has none aside from what their interactive audience votes for.”

“And no one is as vicious as a mob.” I wanted to bang my head on the table. From my army training, I knew anyone could be broken. There was only finding the right tool for the job and I had no illusions that they couldn't find the one that would work just fine on yours truly.

On the other hand, this was sounding more and more like they wanted me on the most infamous mockery of a game in modern history. Just last year, a girl transitioning was changed to such a degree that she killed herself right there in front of everyone. Just willed herself to death, because what that aforementioned mob had done to her.

Think of the most utterly offensive parody of a male transitioning to female and that would be close.

“Precisely,” he nodded. “And due to the near toxic levels of nanotechnology necessary to make their transformations appear spontaneously in front of their audience it is as good as permanent.”

“So I agree to this or they break me and then make me agree anyways.” Can anyone say unhappy? “I still end up doped full of nanites facing the troll mob.”

The man supposedly in my corner nodded.

It was a classic case of damned if you do and damned if you don't, or in other words, just plain damned.

“Do I have any time to consider this?” I thought carefully on my phrasing of this. “My friend was having a procedure done and what happens to me affects both of our travel plans.”

“You have until tomorrow.” He answered. “You'll be shipped off to the General Service Pool then.”

“Please,” Damn, that was so hard to do! If I remember correctly she wouldn't be released until noonish depending on how well things went. That doesn't give us much time. Old Napoleon was so right. 'You can ask me for anything, but time. “Could you please pass on this information to Ms. Darlene Franklin? She is listed as my emergency contact since I don't have any family. That information should be in my visa paperwork as well as in my wallet.”

“I see nothing wrong with your request.” The lawyer nodded. “I'll deliver it as soon as we're done here.”

“Thank you.” I kept my sigh to myself. Darlene was going to go nuts over this! First she would blame me for getting into a fight. Then she'll blame herself when she works out that I'd been setup and because she'd been the one to drag me here despite my misgivings.

Somewhere along the line, my friend would put her research hat on and dive into the data sea. Knowing her, she'll find someone near or on that Gaming Authority and try to make a deal to try and keep me safe.

The last thing we need is for both us to end up on that damn show!

As Mr. Alvarez left I kept my fingers crossed. Please let him do as he says he would!

He lounged back in his expensive chair enjoying the finest cigar that Havana produced. This was a great time to be alive. The finer things in life could be safely indulged because of wonderful advances in medical science. All the money he'd made by hook and crook during his life, he now got to enjoy while being healthy as a horse.

Sure he had to stay here on the Isle because of all the warrants out for his arrest and unfortunately he was not a member of the Inner Circle either with all the power they had at their command.

However with his playing the part of the Accountant on 'Royalty or Serf,' he got to play god. That more than made up for the rest. It was such a rush to take these peons and break their dreams by turning them into things they despised. How funny it was that each and every one thought they would be luckier than those that had come before them.

They always ran a clean game, but any idiot who had even passed high school math knew that the odds always favored the House. With the great majority of contestants becoming slaves, they were sold at a very healthy profit.

So what if it was labeled under the fiction of labor contracts, being intellectual equals with morons made them dependents of The Gaming Authority. Forget the official name, because everyone knew it was just politically correct advertising. Princess or Slave was right on the money.

No matter their genitalia, no man had or would ever leave his show after playing the Game, bimbos, sex toys, and pleasure pets one and all. He had sampled the wares of many of them including a few of those that walked away. Even those would forever bear the stamp of the Game he ruled.

On his wall was the five 'contestants' who had beaten the odds and retained their sense of self and identity. Some found it strange that he didn't hate and begrudge their successes. As a matter of fact, he felt more like a big game hunter who respected the prey who was wily and cunning enough to escape him.

Nearly forty years of confidence games, banking schemes and swindling poor and rich alike made him an expert on just how far he could push people. As the Accountant, he played the contestants like an angler does a large mouth bass. Offer insulting deals and then when it really matters they're so used to saying no, they do so again falling into the Game's trap. Each change was cumulative altering how they saw the world and, of course, affecting their judgment.

His eyes fell on Dancer's photograph. Her real name had been and still was for that matter, legally Janice Boone. However, to him she would always be what he had intended, Dancer. She'd been a tall blonde who he thought of as more handsome than attractive with her bold Scandinavian features.

It'd greatly amused him to mold the hard nosed Bostonian lawyer into a lithe Arabian belly dancer. Sentenced due to contempt of court, the blonde learned the hard way that the law worked different here than in Massachusetts, although that had been the Inner Circle's plan from the very beginning.

She and her firm had been due a lesson because of how they'd interfered in far too many of the Circle's plans. Allowing Dancer to represent a 'client' here was just part of that prearranged object lesson.

It had all gone well in the beginning. Goading her to push harder had not been challenging and nor was the dangled prize of a 'plea' bargain to clear her client of their transgressions. It was once the music had cued up and the marquee lights shined that Dancer showed her true fire.

He'd known that like any lawyer she would do her research and have strategies and tactics prepared. The Accountant, however, held all the cards as well as having the House ratio in his favor. She had no idea of which changes he was going favor nor how that would shift the audience's votes.

The first seven Slave cases were always physical alternations. For most contestants they were the carrot to tempt them to play. The second round cases were the ones that really counted, the mental modifications. Those were the ones that sealed the deal leaving behind a willing slave for her masters.

On the look on that proud lawyer's face when her perfectly coif of blond hair turned into a dark water fall was one he'd reviewed so many times. Oh, but did he love the joys of recordings and close ups.

Almost as good was her cold blue eyes darkening into deep sensual brown orbs.

The Accountant sighed. However, there was a reason why she'd been so successful at being a thorn in the powerful's side. Towards the end of the first round she'd gathered four thousand game 'crowns' which was not enough to purchase her freedom. Still it was much better than most contestants had managed.

He had put up an offer he'd expected to be declined. Three 'slave' cases and he would double her crowns giving her enough to walk away. However, that would also put her well into the mental changes.

Dancer had stared up at his darkened silhouette in the Chamberlain's box, and taken his offer! Rather than try for one of the five grand crown cases hidden among the others, she chose to take whatever happened and end it there.

Again luck had been with her even if the last physical case completed the physical transformation for his Dancer. The clearly faked tits had been needed really to stand out on her trim athletic body. She'd mostly certainly had not agreed from those now dark flashing eyes.

Much to his dismay she'd escaped the worst of the round two modifications with compulsions to wear silks and damn the luck, flashy jewelry. The Dress style was something he had planned for her as well as the accessorizing the bling, but the Accountant wanted the career change and habits categories. Being the Dancer who was always swaying with the music would've worked right nicely and he did have a two in seven chance of it happening.

Still he smiled thinking of his Dancer. On his hard drive, he had footage of her dressed in silk suits accidentally flashing the jewel in her belly button. For all that she did still practice law, she would always be his Dancer.

Sighing, he put his cigar in the gilded ashtray.

This contestant promised to be difficult. The inner circle wanted a happy ending, but still desired punishment. That meant this show could not end with the House winning and the loser being lead away by a collar around her neck.

However, he mused that did not mean, he, the Accountant, had to lose. Win, win or at least it could seem that way if it was set up right. All the Round Once cases with perhaps with, like with Dancer, a case or two from the next round that might not seem too bad, but rubbed in the fact to the people who knew that it was in fact a punishment.

Slowly a smile grew on his face as he read the brief MC3 had put together of the soon to be 'once' Mr. Aldric.

A fantasy fan?

Now that gave him something to work with! Additionally, his 'friend' he'd escorted her shared the same interests?

He wrote out an outline. It would need to be run by MC3 to check if the psychological profiles agreed with his quick and dirty intuition. Still the Accountant had a good feeling about this and it shouldn't be too much of a problem to 'guide' the voting audience's voting in the way he wanted.

There was still many issues to be worked out, and the question of luck, but what was the purpose of playing if you couldn't lose? What would be the challenge of that?

He laughed remembering a line from an old movie. 'Do you want to play a game?'

Why, yes he did!

It'd taken her only a few minutes to start getting help. Emails to the various support groups she belonged to had began the rallying the troops. In this case they were all of those who had helped her organize her trip here as well as all the warnings of what to and what not to do.

Almost immediately, replies started coming in. They all stated that it was unlikely that Gene had been at fault. It seemed the Isle's case against him was posted online for all to see. It was Legal Eagle's position that it was clearly an entrapment to get him and most likely her too.

The poster pointed out how The Gaming Authority used people's desire to help others against them. She had been a victim of wanting to help her client and they had used that to get her to be a contestant.

Under no circumstances was Darlene to attempt to make a deal with the Accountant or the game's organizers. Legal Eagle had taken a huge risk and had escaped the worst consequences, but an enormous amount of good fortune had been involved.

Others 'gurls' like herself but who couldn't afford the high costs of the nanotechnology transformations, but had more or less gotten out without becoming a sex slave gave similar advice. Others spoke of promises such as medical aid to ill loved ones to entice them to risk more when it was already unbelievably chancy.

Some recounted how they could now only speak with ridiculous 'sexy' accents or wear certain types or styles of clothes. All agreed that changes like those were the least damaging of the mental compulsions. The career category was one of the worst since not only did it make you work in that new field, but it made you think you wanted and desired it.

Doctors, lawyers, scientists, and many others had all those years of learning ripped from them reducing them to waiting tables, working as a maid or other stereotypical woman's work. It was brainwashing at its very worst destroying the achievements that took years of hard dedicated work.

As for strategy on how to win. Most of the answers were the same. Be lucky, but if you were wise you had to play to the voting audience. The Accountant was a genius at manipulating them into selecting changes that fit into a chosen theme.

To survive with the core of yourself more or less intact, you absolutely had to charm the bastards watching and voting. If you didn't want breasts the size of beach balls and bleach blonde hair, you had better be damn good. Normally there would be less exaggerated choices available, but don't be surprised if it came down to the decision of least awful.

The bad part was you had to be quick witted. Once the choices were announced you had to decide fast which one you wanted as well as how to make that appealing to the viewers. Failure to do that always lead the voters to pick the most humiliating choices for the poor victim.

Darlene sighed. She had a lot of work to do. Gene could be charming, but he could be sarcastic too. That would not go over well.

Legal Eagle did have it right. She would've tried to make an arrangement to get her friend free. However she could see how it could be used against her. No doubt the deal would pull her into the whole mess while giving very little back.

Damn it, this was her fault dragging him here in the first place!

Closing her tablet, she was happy to see the Nurse enter. She had places to be and damn little time to make things right. Okay, maybe not right, but better. She had too!

Gene, oh I'm in so much trouble!

The moment the attractive brunette walked in, I knew I was doomed.

“Plato Barada Nicto.” Holding up my hands in surrender, I smiled.

“Gene you dummy!” The woman glared at me holding up her hand in the Vulcan Peace and Long Life greeting. “And it's properly Klaatu Barada Nikto.”

“And you left out the Gort.” I smiled relived despite knowing she was going to hurt me. “You turned out real good.”

“Thank you.” Darlene answered, “But you're still a dummy.”

“It's not my fault.” I kinda winced at that one. I honestly hadn't meant that to say that quote however much it fit. “The last thing I remember is ordering a sandwich and then waking here with one mother of a headache. It fits with being hit with a date rape drug.”

“Yeah,” she sighed, sitting down and putting her tablet on the table. “My research agrees with that. According to them this doesn't happen often, but often enough that there is a reason for all the papers we had to sign to get here.

“I'm sorry, Gene.” Her head was bowed. “You were right. It was too much of a risk.”

“Shit happens,” I took her hand. “You probably know better than I do at just how bad it is. I'm cut off here, but I'm told we have until tomorrow to take this gaming commission's deal or not. The attorney said I had the choice of refusing and going into their General Service Pool where they would likely try to break me so I would 'volunteer' for their game anyways, or I can just skip all that and just play their game.”

“It's called the Gaming Authority and that's what the forums, I've asked for help have said as well.” Her long feminine fingers flicked over her tablets touch screen. “

Shrugging, I glanced at the tablet screen that had the box cover to the old RPG game Paranoia. Message received loud and clear.

“I would be happier to avoid both routes, but at this time I don't know how having extra time is going to help me any.” Meeting her eyes I nodded. “Do any of your girls have any advice?”

“Loads,” She rolled her eyes. “How much of it is useful is another question.”

“That bad?” From years gaming with my friend, that really meant there wasn't much that could be done.

“Do you want the bad news or the really bad news first?” One of Darlene's newly feminine brows did the Vulcan thing.

“Let's do the Bad first.” I gave her a smile that probably looked really forced.

“You're going to end up at a minimum, looking very feminine.” My friend stated her lips tight with stress.

“Okay,” my stomach twisted into knots. “I know I'm going to have all kinds of trouble adapting to this. That's along with no doubt losing my job. There is no way I'll be trusted as a courier after having this done to me.

“Alrighty,” I tried to steel myself. “How bad can it get?”

“Everyone seemed to think the game they're trying to make you play is Royals and Serfs.”

“Crap!” My head fell back with my eyes closed in dismay. “Princess and Slaves?”

One eye peered at her shutting again after seeing her nod.

“I could end up a brain dead bimbo.” Okay this was very, really truly bad.

“The good is you'll remain human if perhaps with cute animal traits like cat ears or a puppy tail.” Darlene just kept giving the bad news. “However, since I'm listed as your emergency contact, I might be able to take custody of you instead of the Gaming Authority in a worst case scenario.”

“That's makes me feel so much better.” My sarcasm rose to he occasion.

Her hand struck like lightning.

“Ow!” I rubbed the back of my head. How had she reached that damn far?

“You make a remark like that to the host or the audience and you'll end up like that for damn certain.” Anger filled her voice. “I will not lose my friend because you're being stupid! I did get some good help and god help me you will learn. You got me Mister?”

“Yes, Ma'am.” This reminded me of cram session we used have back when we took classes together at the Army's service schools. High scores were important because they decided where you would be posted. My friend had it in mind we were going to stick together so I had sure as hell better do well... or else!

“Okay,” Darlene glared at me until she was sure I knew she meant business. “Here are some recordings of past shows my 'help' sent me. She even included subtitled notes to go along with them.”

“Let's do this.” I gathered what wits I had. This was not going to be fun.

They gave each other a long look as they read their orders for the day. Most of the day had been spent brainstorming ways the General Service Pool system could be abused.

As long was the 'worker' was able to preform the duties contracted by the winner of the bidding, they could potentially be transformed into just about any form. Even the two of them agreed that a few of their ideas were positively evil particularly for a man.

Mr. Aldric had accepted the Authority's generous offer to resolve any and all punishments that he might face from legal issues on the Isle de Tempete.

Reluctantly they filed those suggestions away for perhaps another 'contestant.' They knew there would be a next time. There always was.

Darlene closed her eyes for just a moment. She knew she was nervous, but had very good reason to be. This was more than a little like Mowgli meeting Shere Khan at the watering hole, but they dare not rock the boat.

Mr. Juan Perez was obviously not his real name, but the power he had as one of the show's 'Assistant Directors' was very real. Legal Eagle suspected that he might be the shadowy figure in the box, the Accountant. That made his invitation to meet for coffee was an offer one she simply couldn't refuse.

Sometimes, Legal Eagle scared the hell out of her. Once again she had hit the nail right on the head. Her advice had been to be extremely politely, but firmly refuse any and all offers for anything. That went from table condiments to the British Crown Jewels, do not use the word yes at all.

The man was a master manipulator who had arrest warrants for him in more countries in the world than ones that didn't. That was why he stayed in the one place on the planet that didn't have extradition treaties with anyone. He could talk a drowning man into buying water and gleefully would because he had no morals whatsoever. Legal Eagle flat out told her to check afterwards if she still had all of her belongings, and, yes, the man was just that dangerous.

Darlene considered herself a fairly worldly person, but given how almost frantic her online contact was acting, decided that an extra helping of paranoia was the order for the day. It didn't take an expert to see that this man had a run in with Legal Eagle, or that she had come out if not second best, hurt by the bastard.

She knew that her online adviser was sharp as hell. If he got one over on her, then Darlene was in a lot of trouble.

That made her snort. Nobody had to be a genius to figure that one out! There was no room for ego here. She had to try to keep Gene as much Gene as she could without damning herself or anyone else.

Darlene had to fight off the feeling of illness every single time she thought about him being the same way she'd been. Gender dysphoria might not be fatal in of itself, but it could and did make so very many lives so miserable that suicide looked like a viable alternative. When your body didn't seem to fit, it was a like clothes or shoes that were so uncomfortable that over time they just drove one crazy enough to attempt almost anything to make it stop.

Honestly, only Gene and his unbreakable loyalty had kept her alive long enough for her to admit to herself that she had to do what she could to be 'comfortable' in her own skin. That would not work for him. Once these bastards finish, there would be little medical science could do to reverse the changes.

Surgery could help to a degree, but even the remains of the extreme saturation from the nanites made any further use of nanotechnology lethal. That didn't include the compulsions from mental changes that often supported each other and the other modifications. Legal Eagle's example was one to force one to dress in a given style demanding they look a certain way while dressed. Breast reduction surgery might trim a cleavage enough so that a compulsion for a revealing style not being met could drive the poor soul to no end of anguish until they were back off to the surgeon to 'fix' the problem.

The same thing applied to even hair, nails, and makeup.

Ruefully, Darlene looked down at her own modest cleavage that she was very happy with. The nanotechs here did do good work. Anything that can be used for good, can be used for evil. She was sure someone had made a quote about that, but she couldn't think of it.

'Verily I go into the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I will fear no evil, for I am the baddest bitch in the Valley.' Confidence, but caution girl. Darlene walked forward. She had a meeting to attend.

“Miss Franklin.” The too handsome vaguely Hispanic man rose to his feet.

“Mr. Perez.” She remembered, no yes's!

Taking a seat, she did her best to take in the surroundings without seeming to stare. Some things jumped out to her senses. The two swarthy guys behind 'Mr. Perez gave her the same edgy feelings as some of the Special Forces and Delta Team guys she'd met years ago in the Service.

Call it a kind of blankness in the back of their eyes. Assume they were death on two feet given how powerful Perez was and likely nanotechnology enhanced. The rest of the world may forbid such things, but this was the Isle.

“Are you ready to order?” His dark eyes gleamed.

“Please, go ahead.” Darlene made herself smile, no yes's! “I'm sure I'll find what I want soon.”

“As you wish.” The moment he raised his hand, a waitress hurried over.

She really wasn't aware of what he ordered, but was thankful he didn't order for her. Could she even trust what was bought out for her? Darlene remembered all too well what happened to Gene. Did guys like those two goons doing the mafia guard thing slip her friend a drug or did they just simply bribe the cook to put it in his food?

“I'll have a regular coffee, cream and two sugars, please.” Their waitress was wearing heels that no one working the service industry would even consider. Only in places that encouraged a certain clientele would do so and then they were well paid. Being on one's feet for hours wearing those things had to be torture!

“She's a part of the General Service Pool,” Mr. Perez answered her unasked question. “Businesses bid on their contracts and then they are transformed in order to serve their new profession more efficiently.

“As set by the GSP a percentage of what they earn is split between the contract holder and what is owed to the court for their transgressions.” He smoothly explained.

“And of course that transformation cost is added to the total they have to pay back.” Darlene added suspecting he was going to leave that part out. It was as bad as that old song her grandparents used to listen by Tennessee Ernie Ford, 'Sixteen Tons.'

Referring to how the old coal mining companies used to deliberately keep their employee's in endless debt, the line went, 'You owe your soul to the company store.' Once caught in the GSP, it was almost impossible to get out of it.

“Your friend, Aldric was wise to accept the Authority's generous offer to compete in our games.” He waved at the busy downtown area. “There are those that take advantage of men in the Pool and take particular pleasure at humiliating them.”

“I have heard of such unfortunate stories.” She would look at this city much differently now. A place of miracles for some like her perhaps, but does that make up for the evil that made it possible? “It's good that Gene will avoid that although I gather from online that the Gaming Authority can be rather unfriendly as well.

“Should I be concerned?” Darlene waited as their waitress delivered their beverages.

“We do have games of chance.” Perez replied slickly, “Harsh penalties make the sparkling treasures all that much more valuable and worthwhile.

“That relates to why I wanted to speak with you.” He took a sip of his brew. “It is genuinely a gift to have a true friend. Since I and the Authority are in the process of organizing our next set of games, we were curious if you would be interested in taking a greater part than just supporting him from the sidelines?”

“What did you have in mind?” She asked, just knowing 'here it comes!'

“Well, we are still in the planning stages.” His eyes revealed the lie. “Perhaps you having the option of taking his place for a penalty. It is still undecided you must understand.”

“Oh” Darlene hoped her light laugh didn't sound too force. “Gene would be so upset if I did that. After all I just spent years of savings to pay for your nanotechs to become, well, me! With the support he'd given me over the years, I think he feels that he's as invested in my current appearance as me. I just couldn't betray him like that.”

“I can see your point.” He gave nothing away. “However, it may be possible to, if the worst happens, for you to take up your friend's guardianship if for some reason he becomes incapacitated. The law here is very firm on the Authority taking up that responsibility when it becomes necessary.”

“I wasn't aware of that.” And there was the stick. “Please allow me the opportunity to discuss this with Gene. It does concern him and his future.”

“But of course.” His smile made her ill. “I suppose it is only fair you talk to him, although it is easier asking for forgiveness rather than for permission.”

“That I remember from my old Army days.” Darlene said mostly smiling. His temptation might've been more effective if Eagle hadn't foretold how this would go almost word for word. Well, she didn't specify the exact bait he would use, but the how he would use it was right on the money. “However, Gene and I have mutual trust and respect. To act without letting him know invites a 'Gift of the Magi' SNAFU.”

“Ah yes,” Perez nodded, “The Christmas story where a young couple each sacrifices their most prize belongings to buy gifts for each other that they no longer need.”

“She sold her hair, and he, his father's watch,” Darlene recounted, “But she brought him a watch chain and he got her hair clips. I don't want Gene and me to tried to act in each other's best interest, but only to trip each other up. This might be a nice place to visit, but there's no place like home.”

“Then please let me know what you and Mr. Aldric decides.” He bowed his head slightly. “I and the production staff will need to know soon so we can finish planning. Here is my card.”

“Thank you, Mr. Perez.” Darlene took the card as causally as she could using only her nails. Paranoid or not she wasn't going to take anything this man gave her lightly. “We will do that.”

She walked away resisting the instinct to run from what she was certain had been a deadly trap. Hopefully all she left behind was smudged lipstick on a coffee cup that she'd left untasted. A distance away Darlene cleaned away the rest of her lippy just in case something had been on the cup.

There was still time to visit her friend.

Leisurely he finished his beverage. This was going to be quite enjoyable! Oh it was certain the woman had been coached, but still by his standards she'd done tolerably well.

She hadn't agreed to anything or made any promises except to call with their decision.

That'd been a little disappointing because it would've done wonders for his show's ratings to have her step in save her 'friend' from a vile threat. That was still a possibility, but not a strong one. The danger would have to be real and that would potentially ruin the 'happy' the producers called for.

Still he had wonder at who was coaching her. It had to be someone who had been a past guest of the Gaming Authority and likely of Royal or Serf. They knew just how he liked to manage things and that implied first hand knowledge.

That was a small list, but as annoying as that was, it added a level of excitement. True challenges were rare these days.

Standing he, headed back to his office feeling full of energy. He had a game to plan.

“This isn't easy.” I ran my hand through my thinning hair. “Even just role-playing out the scenario is tripping me up. What the hell am I going to do when I start changing for real?”

“Maybe you need to think of it as like Cos-playing at a Con.” Darlene suggested. “We've both done that often enough.”

“But only once as a girl.” This detention cell was getting very old. On the other hand, my leaving it would mean my manhood would be in grave danger. That was not a pleasant thought.

“And don't tell me you didn't enjoy it!” She folded her arms. “Both of us were completely exhausted by the time it was over running with those flashy glow in the dark magic wands.”

“I can't even remember what magic girl I was supposed to have been,” I complained, but smiled anyways. “But that was only a dump truck load of makeup and a girdle that had to been made in the lowest level of hell!

“Besides,” I threw my hands up in the air. “With the way this Damon MC guy will snark and troll me, I'll say something stupid and then I'll really be in trouble.”

“Listen here Mister!” Darlene got in my face. “If we had the chance I would have you in full makeup and dressed up just for practice. I know you can do this. I've seen you in the zone while role-playing. If our hobby had awards you would get the Oscar!

“Yes,” Her face was red and her eyes shined with passion. “Your body will be changing during the game. Think of it like being caught by a high level demon lord and you're playing for your very soul.

“That actually works pretty well.” I observed. “The Accountant/Demon Lord hidden in shadows watching from his commanding throne as his lesser servants torture the hero with their foul polymorphic magics trying to get him to break.”

“Yes!” Darlene grabbed my shoulders. “That is the attitude and mind set you have to have! You've got to play as you've never played before. I want my friend, the Gamer, with me when I walk off the boat in Charleston and not some Bimbo who thinks gaming dice are fashion accessories.”

“Oh God, no!” I smiled at the horror. “If that happens shoot me and bury the dice with my character sheets in my coffin. You can have my gaming books.”

“And on that note,” she sighed, “We have something else to talk about and I can guarantee you're not going to like. But first some background.”

“Alright,” I gave her a pained expression. If she said I wasn't going to like it then it was pretty dang bad. “Hit me.”

“Okay,” Darlene breathed out. “Eagle has been a lot of help and has been following your case. While she's been on the money more often than not, she thinks there are a few things that out of the ordinary.

“One of those is the Authority hasn't been as hard nosed as they've been in the past.” She flipped to a page on her tablet. “In several regards they could've pushed the both of us harder to make unfavorable agreements.”

“Like that Perez guy you meet a few days ago.” Boy, didn't that have me worrying until I saw her in front of me safe and sound. “You told him we didn't think it was a good idea but thank you for the offer.”

“Exactly.” She beamed at him. “He could've made an offer I couldn't refuse, but instead simply accepted our answer.

“That 'really' worries her. 'Anytime they alter things it's never for the contestant's benefit.'” Darlene paused, “That's a direct quote by the way.”

“Princess and Slaves did have all that bad press last year.” Thinking about it, I tried to look at it logically from their viewpoint, even if I wasn't a misogynistic bastard with delusions of godhood. “Perhaps they're trying to put a better spin on things?”

“That's one of her guesses.” Darlene acknowledged. “Another is that you pissed off someone so badly they want to get you and snare me too.

“I might even be their target.” she admitted, looking guilty. “But I don't think that's very likely. They would've just arranged for the clinic's nanotechs to take a payoff, and you would've been told I had a bad reaction, so sorry.”

“Okay,” I spread my hands out. “What's the bottom line?”

“Eagle thinks we need a fallback plan, just in case it all goes south.” My friend closed her eyes as if she really didn't want to even consider it.

“Plan ain't go no plan.” I joked trying to cut the tension.

“She wants us to get married.” Her voice was a whisper.

It took me several seconds opening and closing my mouth to make a sound.

“What!” I choked out.

“She knows people with serious grudges against the Gaming Authority that's very willing to backdate and slip in the paperwork.” Darlene sounded like she was being strangled. “That includes a Judge that will certify everything.”

“Go on.” I croaked, my brains threatening to short out.

“That would make me your legal next of kin.” She wouldn't meet my eyes. “If the worst did happen I would be able to get custody and help you.”

“And if the worst doesn't happen?” I wanted to know. This was my friend, perhaps not my brother any more, call her my sister.

“Then we can get it annulled when we get back.” Darlene explained.

“Yes,” My voice was so soft I wasn't sure even I said it.

“What?” She was surprised.

“It protects you too.” I took a deep breath. “You're my friend, my sister of the heart. If they try something I want to be able to get you out as well. Like Eagle says they're not above using us against each other.”

Her eyes were tearing and I braced myself for the tackle and resulting hugs. I had no idea how, but we were going to get out of this mess …. somehow.

<><><>

MC3

One of its strengths was its ability to plan. MC3 had all the information and now had to analyze and simulate the possibilities. It was aware of the choices that were going to be offered to the participating voters. The meeting of the Masters and their intention of causing ties during the voting was another consideration it had to take into account.

A through examination of Gene Aldric right down to his DNA gave the beginnings of the nanotechnology programming needed for each transformation. With the priority given to this particular program and the available resources, MC3 began running algorithms design to simulate 'pleasing' or attractive models for each level of transformation.

Given the Accountant's notes, it further researched the fantasy genre looking for examples that fit its parameters. It after all had the entire internet for a resource. If certain low priority users observed a slow down in service, they were generally wise enough to simply work through the inconvenience. While it was true that the squeaky wheel got the oil, here it also got something else that was far less desirable, attention.

Being a faceless bee in the hive was relatively safe. Being noticed, having a recognizable name, now that was dangerous when one lacked any other characteristic that could provide security such as money, family or anything else of value.

No, here one simply made do or risked becoming a contestant as well. As anyone on this island knew, there were worst fates than death.