My Odyssey - Part 4: That Dirty Son-of-a-Bitch! As narrated

(story continues from My Odyssey - Part 3: The Games People Play As narrated)

My Odyssey

As narrated by Anne-Marie Killamajiian,
Wife of Ahmed, of the House of Mustaffa, the Diamond Merchant

Warning: This story involves bondage, consensual sex, domination, coercion, sex changes, sexual slavery, rape, and other jiggery-pokery. It is entirely fictional, and is intended as entertainment for adults only. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, or to any location or activity is purely coincidental. Names have been changed to protect the innocent. (As if anybody ever is!)

Note: If you would like to contact the authoress to make a comment, you may contact Anne through Tony-B who originally published it as "My Story". She hopes you enjoy reading her story. Tony would also appreciate your comments. We will endeavor to answer all emails.

RECAP: In Part 3, Jai and Jim continued to develop their relationship, and Jim got a contract to do a photo spread in Southeast Asia, taking Jai along as his model. …

Part 4: That Dirty Son-of-a-Bitch! …

We had gone out for dinner in a nearby restaurant. The waiter was a swarthy man, not Asian at all. …Jai was wearing that black dress that I liked – the one that showed off her shoulders and bare arms to great advantage. It draped over her tits, cinched at the waist, and flowed generously to her knees. It fit her every curve. Myself, I was wearing a suit, and no tie, with an open shirt that allowed some chest hair to peek out through the opening at the throat. I took off my jacket and draped it over the chair at the side of the table, as we sat facing each other. Dutifully, she folded her hands in her lap, and fixed her eyes on the place setting in front of her while I looked over the menu.

"Jai, what is this ‘Ming Choi’ on the menu?", I asked.

"It’s small pieces of chicken in a ginger sauce, usually spooned over steamed rice and vegetables.", she said, never raising her eyes.

"Well, that sounds good. we’ll have that tonight, along with Green Tea and a sliced tomato salad", I said to the waiter.

"Very good sir. It’ll be right out." He left the table.

…

The Ming Choi was good, but perhaps a bit sweet for my tongue …

It was time to pay the bill … and the piper, I was later to find out.

My money was gone! Someone had removed the wallet from my jacket pocket, removed the cash, and had replaced the wallet so I wouldn’t discover it missing until after they got away. However, they had totally ignored my credit cards and other identification. The hotel, of course, still had our passports.

In a bad parody of the Humphrey Bogart film 'Treasure of the Sierra Madre', the waiter said, "We don’t take no stinking credit cards!… But maybe we can work out a deal!" He looked at Jai, in what I thought was a leering way. He knew!, I thought. He knew she was a love slave, and had been wearing nothing under that black dress that hugged her every curve. He had figured it out from her demeanor. From the way she had sat in silence, how she had kept her hands folded neatly in her lap, and the way she was constantly looking down in my presence.

"I’ll have to go back to the hotel to get some money", I said.

"That’s alright sir", he said, "as long as you leave the girl here until you return".

I didn’t like the way he called her ‘the girl’, but there was nothing much I could do about it. "Stay here, Jai. I’ll be right back – the hotel is only a block away."

At the hotel, I headed directly to the service desk. Producing my credit card, I said, "I’d like a hundred dollars, please, in local currency."

A policeman’s hand grabbed my wrist, and said, "Come with me, Mr. Irwin, you’re under arrest."

"What for?" I protested. "You’ll see. The state’s Attorney will explain it all to you."

"But I have a friend waiting at the restaurant", I said. "My money was stolen, and I need to get back there to pay my bill."

"We’ll take care of it", he said. ..

I was taken out of the hotel, handcuffed, and pushed into the back seat of a waiting police car. … I tried to figure out what I had done …

Here is where I had gotten stupid!

Earlier in the evening, I had gone out to get some marijuana, which I had been told was readily available on the street in these South Asian cities. It was true. I didn’t have any trouble locating a man who was eager to sell. "Two sticks for Twenty Dollars", he hissed through bad dental work. He needed to see a dentist … "Okay", I said. I opened my wallet, and handed over a twenty dollar bill. He handed me two marijuana cigarettes, and faded into the crowd.

Later, I learned that son-of-a-bitch sold me two marijuana cigarettes, then sold me out to the state police as a drug buyer. A ‘Buyer’, for Christ sakes! He got a $500 reward for turning me in, and got off scot-free because he turned me in.

In the jail, I met another man who claimed to be an American. He said his name was Duncan … Duncan Donuts! And they all laughed! Then he asked me whether I was going to be a husband, or a wife. I told him that given a choice, I’d rather be a husband. He said, "That’s great! Come over here and suck your wife’s dick!" They all laughed again. They were having a great laugh at my expense. I could only imagine what was happening to Jai, and I didn’t like it! But I found out they were serious. Perverted, and serious. Probably because except for the Orientals, I was the smallest one there, and they thought they could bully me into allowing them to have sex with me. They enjoyed describing in great detail, what they were going to do to me when they got the chance. Some of it was so vile and disgusting, you wondered what planet they were from.

Jai had also been arrested, and we weren’t allowed to see or speak to each other until a couple of weeks later.

There was a brief trial which probably took all of ten minutes, where the local American vice-consul appeared on our behalf. He was unable to successfully defend us against the charges of possessing ‘dope’, passing a counterfeit bill, and ‘conspiracy’, although I didn’t have the faintest idea of what we had ‘conspired’ to do…. I knew the twenty-dollar bill hadn’t been counterfeit, since I got it at a branch of the Bank of America before we left the states. Jai was convicted as a co-conspirator, largely because she was my companion, and had no other outside support. I suppose this kangaroo court could also have convicted us of picking our nose, if that were possible. … The judge said, "Sentencing will be next Monday at 10 am." My heart sank. Both for me, and for Jai. She was getting a raw deal out of this, inasmuch as all she had done was sit in that restaurant, waiting for my return. …

Convicted and sentenced

It was a particularly crummy day. Not that the sun wasn’t shining, or that we had little legal hope of getting off, but by the demeanor of the court, I figured we were in for it.

Jai wasn’t smiling as they brought her in. She wore one of those gray prison dresses with her hands manacled in front of her and a chain around her waist. Part of the chain hung down her backside and between her cheeks. In other circumstances, she’d have been beautiful, chained up like this. She was still beautiful, of course, but we both knew we’d probably never be together again.

The court came to order as the judges walked in and sat down. They avoided eye contact with me, but I noticed at least one of them giving Jai the up-and-down look-over.

Jai got ten years and a $20,000 fine – 68,000 Thai Baht – the local currency. My heart sank. I was sure I’d get a worse deal. Fifteen years, and a $50,000 fine was my sentence - 170,000 Thai Baht. More than twice Jai’s fine! The vice-consul shook his head and looked away. He knew life was essentially over for me, to say nothing about Jai! There was no way I could pull that kind of time, and live through it, especially in the state prison in this God-forsaken place. To say nothing about the money! Where could I ever hope to get that?

"Well, we have one more chance to get you out of this", he said. "A doctor friend of mine may be able to get you released for medical reasons, but he’ll have to talk to you himself, and explain his program to you."

"Anything", I said … "Anything to avoid that stinking hole of a prison they’ve got here."

"Okay," the vice-consul said, "I’ll set up a meeting before you’re transferred to the prison at the end of the week".

Jai was taken out the door for women by a burly matron, who I would have sworn was a man in a dress. She was literally being pulled by the chain around her waist. I was taken out on the other side of the room by a fat guard holding onto my arm somewhat tightly. Again, I thought he was pulling me more than necessary, as he forced me through the door to the holding cells. … It was the last time I saw Jai.

The ‘Program’

That was on Monday. It was a long week, waiting to hear from the vice-consul or his doctor friend. Finally, it was Friday. I knew they transferred prisoners to the state prison late Friday afternoon, and I was afraid to face it. Just after noon, another day without a lunch, a guard called me out and said, "You’ll have to come with me. You have a doctor’s appointment."

A ray of hope! I was finally going to be able to talk to the doctor.

"Hold out your hands", the guard said. "I have to handcuff you before I remove you from the holding cell."

I stuck my forearms through the bars, and he snapped a pair of handcuffs around my wrists, with a chain dangling down from them. I knew what the chain was for, I’d seen Jai wearing a similar model. It was to pull my hands close to my body at the waist and wrap around my body to keep me from using my hands on anything or trying to escape. He wrapped it around my body in the prescribed manner, and snapped a padlock closed, holding it there. With that, he unlocked the door and pulled me through it, out of the cell. What was it with these guys, pulling and pushing us like bags of laundry?

Gripping the free end of the chain, he literally pulled me down a series of hallways to an area of the building I had never seen, where the doctor was waiting. He opened the door, pushed me inside, and then he closed and locked the door from the outside. We were both locked in, the doctor and me. I was a little scared that he wouldn’t be able to do anything about my case. "Sit down", the doctor said. "I am Doctor Bulieu." (French; pronounced ‘Bew-low’, accent on the ‘Bew’ – rhymes with ‘view’)

He was about fifty, in a grandfatherly looking way. His hair had begun to gray at the temples, but he was well tanned, and somewhat muscular. He also had a thin mustache, still dark, as his hair used to be. He remined me of Cesar Romero from those 40’s musicals -- Suave and sophisticated, and a good dresser!

"Sorry I can’t do anything about the handcuffs just yet," he explained. "I can’t do much of anything for you until I can get you to my Clinic and we start your program." I didn’t know exactly what he meant, since I hadn’t seen him before, and no one had explained to me what, exactly, his "program" was. However, a cold shiver shot up the length of my spine. I passed it off as a fear of the unknown, and tried to make myself comfortable sitting across from him at the bare table in the center of the room.

"I can get you out of this in less than a year, if you’re willing to make some life-altering changes", he said. "It will require total acceptance on your part, but I guarantee I can get you out of here today, and out of the system in less than a year."

"How can you do that?", I asked.

"My program", he said, pausing for effect, … "Your program actually - is quite simple." Another pause … "We change your sex, you become a woman, and then you are auctioned off to a wealthy patron for marriage. The auction proceeds are used to pay your fine, with any left over going to my Clinic for the benefit of future victims of this corrupt system. Although your ransom price is pretty high, I think we can get it if we can make you pretty enough."

My head was swimming. What? Change me into a woman? "Is that the only way," I managed to choke out.

"Yes," he said, "and it’s been quite successful, so far. We’ve placed several changelings for marriage, and a few for sexual slavery, although that isn’t as lucrative, or as pleasant as a marriage to the right patron."

He opened the shiny black briefcase that was sitting on the table and pulled out a handful of photos of pretty women in various stages of undress and bondage. Pushing them across the table to me, he said, "These are some of my clients." He waited a moment for this to sink in, then spread the photos apart so I could see more of them. There, about three photos down, was an 8 by 10 glossy of Jai in the full glory of her nakedness!!! I recognized her instantly! There was no mistake, it was her – right down to the rose tattoo! The enormity of that revelation began to dawn in my brain!

My head was swimming. It couldn’t be true! "You mean", I stammered, "that Jai, - my Jai, - was a sex changed woman?"

"Yes," he replied, "she was one of my best. She took to the life right away", he continued. I couldn’t believe it! I had slept with this woman for over a year, and never knew she had been a man at one time. "She was in trouble with the law here when I first got her, and she adapted beautifully", he said.

"But she told me about her background", I said, half pleadingly. "She told me about her life as a girl, and how her mother trained her in the ways to please men."

He erupted in laughter. "All made up", he said. "Manufactured by my staff and me, and ingrained into her subconscious so strongly that she actually came to believe it. … I’ll do the same for you, if you agree to the program. Not only will you look like a woman, you’ll act like a woman, and with the help of some drugs, you’ll build memories of being a woman all your life. Memories of things that never happened, but which are real enough to you!"

I looked down at the photos spread before me again, and gulped hard. One thing they all had in common was the rose tattoo on their lower back. It was the same as Jai’s tattoo. She never did tell me how she got it, or why. ….. Some of the women’s eyes were closed, as if they were asleep. ‘Bad photography’, I said to myself. Probably an amateur had taken these…

"Will I have to be tied up like some of these girls", I asked.

"Not in my Clinic", he offered. "What you do with future lovers will be up to you. You may find you like it, and you may not. I won’t control your destiny, only the transition to get you there." … He paused, allowing his words to sink in. After a sobering moment, he lowered his voice, and in an ominous tone, said, "Right now, it’s your only way out of this mess. The alternatives in that state prison are too nasty to even consider. You’d be viciously raped every day, and beaten when you didn’t satisfy someone. With no conditioning into womanhood, you probably won’t survive to see the end of your sentence." Another pause, then, "You’ll find my way will be infinitely better."

"But why do you do this?", I asked.

"Mostly for the money, of course, but also for the satisfaction I get out of exercising my surgical skills. Then there’s the satisfaction of getting some people out of the trouble they’re in."

I gulped again, as it dawned on me that I really didn’t have much of a choice. Live free as a woman, or die in a cold, cramped prison cell, killed by some vicious prisoner for my body. … Or just for the thrill of killing me.

"But can we get away with it?", I asked.

"Yes, definitely", Doctor Bulieu said. "We handle three or four cases a year like yours in my Clinic. We have some of the world’s best surgeons here who specialize in treating transexual patients. You’d just be another patient to them, but in your case, I’d be the surgeon working with you. Things aren’t always what they appear to be. King Kong was only eighteen inches high, but he had an excellent PR man! People have a tendency to believe what they can see. You’re of slight stature, slim, young. and healthy. With the help of a sympathetic court attorney, and a few open hands, we can definitely make a successful transition for you. The attorney will also be well paid."

"Okay", I heard myself saying. "I’ll go with the program", I managed to squeak out. I had no viable alternative!

"Good", he replied. "I’ll have you out of here, later this afternoon, after we take a few necessary legal steps. We’ll start your program right away, and you’ll be surprised how quickly you adapt to it."

With that, he put the photos back in his briefcase, closed it up and rose from the table. He crossed to the locked door and tapped on it three times.

"Will it hurt?", I asked.

"No, not at all." He replied. "You’ll be sound asleep through most of the transition, and will experience little or no pain at all."

"I’ve got a pretty good dick," I offered, "and I’ll hate to lose it."

"You won’t", the doctor said. "You’ll still have it. I’m just going to rearrange it a little bit. You’ll still be able to enjoy as much sex as you want with your new parts." That was a relief, although I didn’t know how he was going to manage it. "Good", was my response. As the door opened, the doctor turned, saying over his shoulder, "I’ll see you in a couple of hours."

I was led back to the holding cell, my manacles and chain removed, and I was pushed inside once more as the door slammed shut and was locked behind me. At least I had some hope of getting out of this, without getting killed in the process. I still couldn’t believe that Jai had been a man!

A couple of hours passed slowly, when I heard the guard return to the holding cell. "Stick your arms through the bars", he said. "I have to take you back to see the doctor again." To make a long story short, I was handcuffed and chained again, then pulled down those long halls to the interview room where I found the doctor, accompanied by another man, waiting for me. Again, the solid door was closed and locked behind me.

"I have a few papers for you to sign", he said. "This is the court’s attorney", introducing the other man in the room. "He’s here as a court’s witness, and will help get you out of here." I managed a weak smile his way and nodded my head, acknowledging his importance. The doctor continued, "We are going to claim that you have testicular cancer, and will require treatment at my Clinic for a while. While you’re there, Jim Irwin will die, and a new woman will be born." He continued, "My friend here will arrange a new identity for you, and get the necessary papers, a birth certificate, passport, and other items necessary for you to continue your life in your new role."

I got it. Not only were they going to change my sex, but also my identity, so that I could get out of this mess. At this point, I was more than willing to do whatever was necessary. "Will I ever be able to see Jai again?", I asked.

"No," the Doctor answered, "she’s already gone."

"Gone? Gone where?"

"She was sold to one of our patrons for marriage Wednesday morning. It was the second time through the auction for her. By now she’s married to a Saudi Prince, according to their laws and customs, -- although I think they have to wait three days before marriage, to ‘purify’ her. She will be his wife and sex slave, satisfying his every whim. She will wear an Abaya and Burqa every day. That’s the traditional black dress for women in the Arab world. You’ve seen them – totally covering them with only their eyes showing. Everything else is covered up. Underneath that black robe she will be stark naked, with her hands tied behind her back, and a full gag strapped into her mouth. I understand she likes it like that. But she will live in relative luxury, and should be very happy being his sex slave for the rest of her life." (Editor’s note: The Abaya is a cloak-like garment which covers a woman’s body, from the shoulders down, usually to the floor. A Burqa – or Burka – is a head and face covering, where only the woman’s eyes are exposed. A scarf which covers her head, except for her face, is called a Hijab, which is primarily worn by older women. A piece of material which covers only her hair, is called a scarf.)

"Okay", I sighed. "Give me the papers."

"First, let the attorney remove your handcuffs so you can sign them", he said. The attorney stepped up in front of me. As he did, he ran his hand down my back, looking for the padlock that held the chain around my waist. That little shudder crept down my back again. Finding the chain, he fumbled for the padlock, and told me to turn around so he could unlock it. I did, and he did, no problem. He stepped around in front of me as I raised my hands so he could remove the cuffs. Taking a miniature handcuff key out of his vest pocket, he inserted it into the cuff and unlocked it, freeing my hands. First one, then the other. I looked at his face. Not attractive, I thought. Not as far as men go, but I would soon be providing sexual favors for a man like this, fully equipped to give him the pleasure that I would be denied forever. But then I remembered the doc said I would still enjoy sex. Maybe more than before. I tried to put this guys face out of my thoughts and hoped it wouldn’t be as bad as I thought it was going to be. After all, once out of here, and out of the system, I could always divorce him, or with a passport, just disappear.

The attorney placed a group of papers on the table, motioning me to sit down. "This is the medical release for your surgery", he said. "Sign here." I took the pen and did so. Another set of papers replaced the first. "This is your permission to undergo what we refer to as psychotherapy. Sign here", he said, pointing to a line at the bottom of the sheet. Again, I took the pen and did as I was told. "Finally," he said, "this is our permission to seize and sell all of your assets to pay for the surgery."

"You mean you’re going to take everything I own?", I asked.

"Yes," he replied. "You won’t be needing any of that stuff any more. … You’ll have a whole new life and everything you need will be provided." It took a moment to sink in. The price of my freedom would be everything I owned. Well, it may not be a bargain, but it would probably be worth every penny, just to get out of here. I signed.

The attorney stamped all three documents with his Notary Seal, and handed them to the doctor. The doctor, in turn, opened his briefcase and put the papers into a blue folder. I didn’t know what significance the blue folder might have had, but somehow, it just seemed ludicrous.

I sat there as if the wind had been knocked out of me. "Here we go", I said to myself, wondering what was coming next. The doctor reached into his briefcase again and pulled out a medical syringe, half full of a yellowish fluid. "This is a mild tranquilizer to calm you down, and help us take you out of here." He said, raising the syringe to eye level and pressing the plunger to make sure there were no air bubbles trapped in the tube or needle. Laying it on the table, he ripped open one of those square alcohol swabs to clean the needle and my skin where he was going to poke me with it.

Roll up your sleeve, he commanded. "This will sting for a moment", he said, swabbing my upper arm with the alcohol swab. It felt cold as it quickly evaporated in the warm air. In the needle went. I could feel him pushing the plunger as the tranquilizer flowed into my arm. In a moment it was over and he pulled the needle out and swabbed my arm again with the alcohol swab. My head started swimming almost immediately. I could feel the tranquilizer taking effect. For a moment, I thought I was going to pass out. Not from pain, just from the effect of the drug coursing through my veins. "God, whatever drug that is, it sure works fast", I said.

"Yes," the doctor said. "You’ll be alright in a moment." He went to the door and knocked three times. I knew that was the signal for the guard to unlock the door and take me back … to where? I didn’t exactly know. I felt almost like I was floating. The drug had taken effect, and I was almost out of it. Their voices sounded strange … sort of far away, and hollow sounding, as if they were talking to me through a dead tree trunk lying in the forest. The doctor appeared at my side and helped me to stand up. "Don’t be concerned, I’m here to take care of you", he said as I nearly collapsed in his arms. As we headed for the door, I felt my feet dragging, as if I could no longer walk. "Get the chair", he commanded to someone. I don’t know who – I certainly couldn’t get any chair. And why would he drag me over here, just to sit down again?

Obviously, it was the drug doing it’s work. I didn’t know that at the time, of course. I just felt woozy and unsteady on my feet, almost as if I was constantly going to fall down. A wheelchair appeared behind me, and I was pushed down into it. More like collapsed into it, as my head continued to spin around and around. What was that drug??? I could make a million dollars selling it on the street, I thought.

Everything seemed to slow down, and appeared to run in slow motion. I didn’t know whether the world was slowing down, or I was speeding up! That’s two sides of the same coin.

The doctor picked up his briefcase -- what color was that again? I couldn’t remember the fucking word. I couldn’t think of the simple, five-letter word for the color of his briefcase. It was black, of course, I just couldn’t think of the word. I finally gave it up as a lost cause. His briefcase was pushed into a pocket, or shelf, or something, on the back of the wheelchair, and I was pushed down the hall. It was a long hall, but it seemed longer and longer as we neared it’s end. It seemed to grow and lengthen, so that the closer we got to the end of the hall, the further it moved away from us. All of a sudden I had it! I remembered the effect I was getting from this wondrous drug. It was LSD. I remembered it from my high school days when a group of us tried out the drug scene. Timothy Leary was right – you can be anything you want to be this time around. And with that, I passed out. Goodnight, Gracie.

I vaguely remember being loaded into an ambulance, or a medical van of some sort, and being carried through another long hall that was stark and harshly lit by florescent lights over my head. I remember being stripped, washed, and put to bed. The washing part was pretty good. One of the most beautiful nurses I had ever seen, carefully sponged and wiped my whole body until it was totally dry. Did she pay special attention to my dick, or was that just my imagination? I remember wondering just how long this tranquilizer drug was going to be working. And with that, I fell asleep again.

Next week, Jim learns the details of his program, and meets some of the staff. …..

 

28.02.08

story continues in My Odyssey Part 5: My First Consultation by As narrated

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