Ethan's Wife

Ethan's Wife

by

Little Dan

Eighteen years ago there had been a daring robbery at Werthen's (Jeweler to the Stars.) Fifty million dollars worth of precious gems had been taken. They were gone. The jewels had totally disappeared. Even though the police were fortunate enough to have captured the culprit.

They had captured the burglar's face on a hidden video camera, and they even had his fingerprints on a banana peel near the safe, though not on the safe itself. The district attorney had built up an iron-clad case against Ethan Crosley, a career criminal, suspected in many other jewel heists. He had had an alibi, of course. He said he had spent the entire evening with his girlfriend, Mona Kensley at Dilly's, a local ice cream parlor, and that they had each had six chocolate Sundays. Later investigation, however, revealed that Dilly's had been closed that night when the refrigeration failed, and that Mona had spent the entire night at Candace Carney's. Candace owned the local whorehouse. She was a career madam. Candace herself testified that Mona had serviced forty-two men that night, one after the other, and not one of them had been Ethan Crosley. Both Mona, and Madam Candace had made quite a bundle for themselves. Candace was forced to reveal the names of the johns to the police, who were very decent about it, and did not tell their wives. Each of the men corroborated the story, and gave Mona excellent reviews in cocksucking, plus vaginal and anal intercourse.

The prosecution had won a conviction, and Ethan Crosley had been sentenced to twenty years in prison. International Re, the big insurance company, was in an awful position. They were on the hook for fifty million dollars. Unless.....Unless.....they could recover the jewels.

They tried everything they could. They tried to have Ethan tortured to reveal the location of the jewels. His lips were sealed. They promised to get him an immediate pardon, and set him at large again in the community, if only he would divulge the location of the jewels. His lips were sealed. Obviously his plan was to wait it out. To serve his twenty years, and then disappear. A fabulously wealthy jewel thief.

International Re had paid the claim thirteen years ago. But they wanted their money back. They were not about to give in so easily. They wanted to recover those jewels.

I had recently been hired by International Re as an investigator. The only talk around the office was Ethan Crosley' and the fifty million dollar stash of jewels.' Ethan's release date was only two years in the future now. Not much time to get him to reveal the information we needed. I was intrigued. I knew it would be quite a feather in my cap, if I could solve the case and recover the booty. This was a real career builder.

I began to be obsessed with those jewels. More than anyone else at International Re, I wanted to be the one responsible for recovering them. My name would be on page one of every newspaper in the country. `Warren Westing, Master Detective, recovers stolen treasure.' I was Warren Westing, of course.

If only I could get close to Ethan Crosley. Be a friend to him. Be a Confidante. Yes. I needed to become a Confidante. A mad scheme started percolating in my brain. I made an appointment with Matt Rosenbee, the CEO of International Re.

At three o'clock the next afternoon, I approached Flossie's desk. Flossie was Matt Rosenbee's private secretary. Her desk stood right outside of his office door, which she guarded with the ferocity of a mother tiger.

"May I help you?" she asked me, without even looking up. I could have been the janitor for all she knew. No. I guess I couldn't have been the janitor. I was wearing a blue suit. I'm sure she saw my blue suit.

"I have an appointment with Mr. Rosenbee, Flossie," I said. She must have known that. She had made the appointment for me, when I called. She had conveyed my message to Matt Rosenbee that I had an idea about how to get the jewels back, and he had agreed to see me.

"Yes," she said. "You'll have to wait a few minutes. He's having his donut and coffee. Sit down." She gestured to the row of seats behind me. I sat. Donuts and coffee? I had this brilliant idea, and he was having donuts and coffee? I wondered what kind of donuts. Filled or glazed?

From the table beside me, I picked up this week's edition of the popular economics journal, `Trickle Down.' I was reading about the latest merger in the Pharmaceuticals industry. Perkins Hodges was buying Lakeford Pills, with the object of eliminating Lakeford's cholestorol pill, Zapadril, which had been in competition with their own drug, Mucor. After eliminating Zapadril, they would be able to quintuple the price of Mucor. I was in the middle of the article, when Flossie called me.

"All right," she said. "You can go in now."

I replaced the magazine on the top of the pile on the table, and walked towards Rosenbee's door. I entered his office and shut the door behind me. He was wiping his lips with a paper napkin. A small leftover crescent of donut sat on the china plate, which he now pushed aside. The donut had been glazed. Maple.

He gestured to the armchair across the big desk from him.

"What can I do for you, Westin?" He asked me.

"I have an idea about the jewels," I said.

"Yes. Yes. That's what Flossie told me. Very interesting. Would you care to tell me about this idea of yours?"

"That's why I'm here, sir," I patiently explained.

"Well. Out with it, then. I'm all a-twitter."

Was he being sarcastic?

"Well. I was thinking. Maybe I could become Crosley's friend."

"Oh," he nodded. "It's that simple. You can become Crosley's friend. And he'll tell you where the jewels are?"

"That's sort of what I was thinking, sir."

"Are you crazy?" He started screaming at me.

"But if we became very good friends.....???" I was beginning to realize that my idea might sound ridiculous. Why would Crosley ever pick me as a friend? Why would he ever trust me? If he had never told anyone in eighteen years, whyever would he tell me? My coming here had been a mistake. I had deluded myself with dreams of glory. All those headlines in my mind, had convinced me that I was invincible. That I could do anything. That I could get the information. I was a fool. I tried to save my dignity as best I could. "I could be very friendly, sir. I could be very sympathetic. He's probably never had a caring sympathetic buddy. I could provide a shoulder for him to cry on. If he began to pour out his heart to me, if I could get him to bare his soul??? I don't know. Maybe you're right. Maybe I am crazy."

"Yesss," he said slowly. "It would probably never work. But still, maybe, maybe, maybe, it might be worth at least a try? I mean. We have nothing to lose, now, do we?"

"No, sir," I assured him.

"How would we do it?" he asked me. "How would you get to be his friend?"

"I would need your help, sir."

"What were you thinking of?"

"Well. I would need to get into that prison. Preferably into the same cell? I don't know if that would be possible."

"I don't know," he said.

"You would have to have a lot of records faked, showing that I was some kind of a criminal. But you would also have to get the real facts on file somewhere. Like. In case you got hit by a bus, I would be able to prove that I was an investigator, not a criminal, so that I wouldn't spend the rest of my life behind bars."

"That sounds reasonable," he agreed.

"Some big official's office would have to be in on it with us."

"I could make all the arrangements through The Federal Bureau of Reinsurance in Washington. That way everything is covered. Everything is professional. Everything is legal. There would be no danger for you."

I thought this over. It sounded like a good plan. "Okay," I decided.

"You're sure you want to go through with this?" He cocked his head.

I paused a few seconds before answering. The fame. The adulation. The large financial reward I would, no doubt, get. It was too much to give up. I was willing to try it. So if it didn't work, I would just get myself released. What would be the harm? "Yes," I decided. Definitely. "I want to go through with this."

"Okay, Westin. Let's do it. Nothing risked, nothing gained. I have to hand it to you. You're a brave guy."

"I am?" I asked naively. "Why?"

"To go to prison. To be in that atmosphere. With all those hardened criminals. I gotta hand it to you. I'm really impressed."

I hadn't really been thinking about it in that way. But I would just have to learn to deal with whatever came up. "I'll be okay," I assured him.

"Okay. I'll get the ball rolling tomorrow. Check with me on Friday. You know, if this works out, there could be a handsome bonus in it for you."

"Yes," I said. "I thought there might be."

We both stood up, and shook hands across his desk. As I was turning to leave, I saw him reach down and pick up the small remaining chunk of the glazed maple donut. He popped it in his mouth and devoured it.

It was arranged that I would be transported to Sandusky (the prison) on the 25th of the month. At the moment, Ethan was alone in his cell, having smashed his last cellmate's face into the steel bars one tense evening. The prison officials were leery about putting a new prisoner in the cell, but the Bureau explained how important it was, and they agreed. They also promised to try to keep a special eye on me. I was grateful for that.

At Sandusky, they took my clothes and gave me my prison-issue oranges (orange uniforms). Then they handcuffed me, and two guards escorted me down many long corridors to my new home.

Finally, they stopped before one of the identical metal cages, and one of the guards turned a large key in the lock. An orange-garbed man, sitting on the lower bunk, looked up in surprise.

"What are you doing?" he yelled. "This is my cell. I got a single here."

"Not any more, Ethan," said the guard with the keys. He unlocked my handcuffs, and they left me there, locking the door behind them. I was in my new cell with Ethan Crosley, the famous jewel thief.

He was an imposing man. Around six foot four, padded with muscles-everywhere. His shirtsleeves were rolled up and multi-colored tattoos covered his bulging arms. His prison uniform was unbuttoned at the top, and I saw more ink on the exposed skin of his chest. I saw a skull and I saw a dagger dripping red blood. His head was completely shaved and looked like a round-tipped bullet. Even if there had been a large crowd in the room, you couldn't help noticing him. There was something.....I don't know....fascinating???

"Hi," I said jovially, approaching him with an outstretched hand. "I'm Warren. Warren Westin."

He didn't answer me, and he didn't take my hand. I stood there like a lunkhead for a few minutes, and then I climbed up to the top bunk. That was the available one.

"Okay," I said. "But if you need anything, just remember I'm here."

We went to the mess hall for dinner, and then we returned to our cell. I, wisely, didn't utter another word. When they turned off the lights, I tried to sleep. I was a nervous wreck, and my brain was doing cartwheels. I could have used a sleeping pill. It must have been after four a.m. that I finally dozed off. They woke us at six. I was very tired the next day.

Ethan kept giving me nasty looks. He was friendly enough with the guards and some of the other prisoners in the yard. They seemed to be bringing him things. Doing favors for him. Well, why not? He was a wealthy jewel thief. He could take care of them financially, I figured.

But my plan wasn't going very well. We were two complete strangers, stuck in the same little cage. He didn't like me, and he didn't want me there. He was certainly not going to confide in me and tell me where the jewels were. He wouldn't even talk to me. He wouldn't even acknowledge my presence.

But one day something happened, and everything changed. What happened was terrible, and nothing I would ever have wished for, but it happened. Poor guy.

In the middle of the afternoon, they came to take Ethan from the cell. They told him he had visitors.

"It's not even visiting day," he argued.

"We're making an exception," said the guard. "Your sisters are here. Irma and Elsie. They need to speak to you."

His face suddenly clouded over and he looked very afraid. And very human.

"Is anything wrong?" he asked in a small voice.

"We don't know anything," the guard answered. "Your sisters want to see you. Come on."

They handcuffed him and led him down the many corridors toward the visitor's room. I was curious, myself. How come they were allowing him a special visit? Did it have anything to do with the jewels???

An hour later they brought him back. His eyes were red and his cheeks were streaked with tears. Something awful had happened. The guards removed his handcuffs and left us alone. He stood there with his face lowered and pressed against the bars, holding the bars tightly in his hands. Silent sobs were wracking his body. I could see it in the spasmodic twitching of his back. What could I do for him? I needed to help him. But how?

I stepped up to him and laid my hand on his back, near his shoulder.

"What is it, Ethan?" I asked him. He just shook his head and gave an audible sob.

"Oh, Ethan. Tell me. Tell me. What happened? Let me help you."

"You can't help me," he said bitterly. "No one can help me."

"Tell me what it is. Confide in me. Please," I begged him.

Finally he gave in and the words started pouring forth.

"It's my mother," he said in a wet, choked voice. "My mother. She was run over by a snowplow. She's dead. My poor mother is dead."

I was shocked. How terrible. Poor guy. I didn't know what to do, so I just put my arms around him, and made him lay his head on my shoulder. "Ssshhh," I soothed. "Ssshhh."

I gently ran my hand down his cheek and just kept stroking him. He cried and he cried, as I stroked his shiny head and his face. "Ssshhh. My poor baby. My poor baby," I crooned. What kind of words were those coming out of a hardened criminal's mouth? Was I crazy? My poor baby?' Where had that one come from? But he was responding. He put his arms around me and held me, as he cried, and as I stroked him. I led him to the bottom bunk, and we sat side-by-side, and continued. For about a half hour. I suddenly realized why I had used the phrase my poor baby'. It had been a stroke of genius on my part. The man had just lost his mother, and I was acting maternal. I was filling in for the poor woman. I was giving him what he most needed at this moment.

"Ssshhh. My poor baby. Everything will be all right. I'll take care of you. Everything will be all right." I had once said something about providing Ethan with a shoulder to cry on. Well. Now I had done just that. Maybe our friendship would develop after this. I was hopeful. "Ssshhh. My poor baby," I continued.

After dinner, at lights-out, Ethan had a strange request. "I could use some company tonight," he said. "I know it's kind of narrow, but could you stay with me on the lower bunk tonight?"

"Of course," I said. "Of course. I'd be happy to." My scheme might work after all.

We lay down side by side, and it really was a tight fit. But I cradled his head against my neck, and he wrapped his big arms around my chest, and we both fell asleep.

After that.... I know you won't be surprised, but we got to be very good friends. We sat next to each other in the mess hall. We played ball together in the yard. And when he got me a pack of cigarettes, I accepted them gladly. I couldn't bear to tell him I didn't smoke.

We were still sharing the lower bunk every night. At first we had slept in our orange uniforms, but we needed to keep them fresher during the day. They only changed them twice a week. So eventually we just slept in the raw. I couldn't help noticing the big thick floppy piece of meat dangling over his hairy balls, but I just averted my eyes as much as possible. Occasionally I felt I was getting an erection, (after all, I certainly hadn't had any sex since I'd been in prison.) but I just kept my back to Ethan so he wouldn't see it.

One night, while we were lying side by side, he said something to me.

"You know, Warren. You're a real good friend. I appreciate it. I never had a lot of friends. I guess you're the best friend I ever had."

I thought about that for a few minutes and realized something. "You know I never had any friends either. I guess you're the best friend I ever had." I felt a tremendous warmth spread first through my stomach, and then all over, as I made this observation.

"Well, anyhow," he didn't want to get too sentimental. "I'm really glad, you're here. I'm sorry I acted like such a prick at first."

"Forget it," I said. "It just doesn't matter anymore."

We were lying there trying to fall asleep, and he was making funny sighing noises.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Nothing," he said. "Nothing."

"It's not nothing," I pressed him. "What is it? Tell me. You know you can tell me, don't you?"

"Yes," he said.

"You can tell me anything," I pressed further. Would he ever??? "What is it?" I touched his face again, and stroked it a few times.

"I'm going crazy," he said. "It's just that I need a blowjob so bad. I haven't shot a load in such a long time."

"You haven't?" I asked.

"You know that," he said. "We live together."

"Yes," I said. And then nervously I asked him, "Did you want me to do it for you?"

"Did you ever give anybody head?"

"No," I said truthfully. "Never."

"Forget it," he said. "Just forget I mentioned it. I don't want to presume on our friendship. I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do. I know some guys in prison rape other guys, but I would never do anything like that. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes," I said. "I know that."

He twisted around a little bit and sighed a couple of times.

"I don't like to see you like this," I said. "I want to do something to help you."

"No. Absolutely not," he answered, and turned slightly away from me.

"Please. Please let me do it for you. I want to. It would be an honor. I would be proud. Please."

"You really want to?" he asked me.

"A lot," I said. "Let me help you out. Please."

"Well, okay," he said slowly and rested more comfortably on his back again.

"What do you want me to do?" I asked.

"Crawl down between my legs."

I followed his instructions as he guided me. He was very hard. And I could feel the heat radiating out of his instrument onto my face. I began by grasping and licking it, and getting it good and wet, just as he told me to do. He had me take each of his large balls in my mouth and suckle on them. Finally he pressed my face down over his dick, and it entered my mouth. We spent about two hours, with me sucking him, and him working my head around into different angles. He was determined to break me of my gag reflex, so I would always enjoy nursing on his fleshy milkbottle.

"Oh. You're so good," he crooned in a low voice. "Watch your teeth. Wrap your lips around your teeth, honey. We don't want teeth."

After a half hour or so, I learned to retract them. This wasn't so bad, but I would have to inform Rosenbee about the latest change in our relationship. I wanted him to know what a sacrifice I was making for International Re.

"Oh, baby. You suck like a pro. You sure you never sucked a cock before?"

I lifted my mouth off it for a moment. Only to answer him. "Never. Never. I swear it. You're the first."

"Do you like it, baby? Do you like sucking on my big prick?"

"Yes. Yes," I said. "I love it. I love you."

He laughed. "Now don't go getting all sentimental on me. It's just a cock. It's not true love."

"Yes," I agreed, and I laughed a little, as I was blowing him. I didn't want him to get scared and shy off. "No love," I assured him. "Just a blowjob." I laughed again and he was reassured.

I noticed his rhythm start to change, and his hands were more forceful on my head. He was pulling on my hair now. That hurt. He started making dry gargling sounds, and suddenly he forced my head all the way down, until my nose hit his curly black hair. The tip of his cock was all the way down my throat, but I felt every twitch, as it jetted its juice down my esophagus. Only when he withdrew it, did his prickhead glide over my tongue, and I could taste his flavors.

Once I had done it once, there was obviously no reason for me not to continue, and I made sure he enjoyed himself thoroughly every night.

One visiting day, Ethan got a visit from his two sisters, Irma and Elsie. They were plain looking farm-women in their early thirties. You could see that they adored their big brother. They would probably have done anything for him. The reason I was in the visitor's room and saw them was that I also had a visitor. My brother, who was in reality, Matt Rosenbee. He had disguised himself with a fake moustache and wire-rimmed glasses, in case there would be anyone at the prison who had ever met him.

I was glad he had come. It would save me the phone call I had been planning to make.

As they led me to my window, I passed behind Ethan's back and saw his two sisters handing the phone back and forth between them to speak to him.

"How's it going?" Rosenbee asked me, holding the telephone to his ear.

"Better than I could have possibly expected," I told him. "But there have been some slight modifications in our relationship. I just hope International Re appreciates the lengths to which I am going on their behalf."

"And on your own behalf, also," he stated dryly. "What lengths?"

"Our friendship has become more personal."

"How do you mean? Be specific."

"It means I am sucking him off," I whispered angrily into the phone. "I'm doing faggot things for International Re. When this is all over, I want you to remember how I sacrificed my very masculinity for the company."

"I told you. Get the information we need and you'll be well compensated."

"Yes. Thank you," I said.

We chatted a few minutes about office politics, and then visiting hour was over.

"Thank you for coming to see me," I told him.

"Keep up the good work," he encouraged me. "We at International Re are proud of our own `deep throat'."

One guard escorted Ethan and me back to the cell.

"I saw your sisters," I told him.

"Yeah. Irma and Elsie. Good kids."

"Yes. They seem very nice," I assured him.

"Who came to see you?"

"My older brother, Matthew," I lied. "I was surprised to see him. We don't get along very well. He's very religious and doesn't want to have anything to do with me since I held up the bank."

"Oh. I always wondered what you were in for. I didn't want to seem like I was prying, so I didn't ask. Bank robbery?"

"Yes," I lied again. "Armed bank robbery."

"Okay," he said slowly, digesting the information.

"How about you?" I asked naively. "What are you in for?"

"I stole some jewels," he laughed. "The caught me, but they didn't catch the jewels." He slapped his knee and roared.

I tried to look amazed. "You mean you've still got them?"

"Yep," he said proudly, smirking.

"That's great," I said jubilantly. "That's terrific. When you get out of here, you'll be a rich man."

"Yep," he smirked.

"Where are they?" I asked eagerly.

He just kept smirking at me. He didn't answer.

"Where are you hiding them?" I tried again.

"Now, baby. You know I can't tell you that." He changed the subject to something about doing pushups in the yard, and I decided it was better not to pose another question at this point. Maybe some night, when I was giving him head, and he was in a vulnerable mood????

But that night, when I crawled between his legs and lowered my head, he suddenly put his hands over his large cock.

"No," he said.

"No?" I asked. I couldn't believe my ears. My feelings were actually hurt. "Why don't you want me to suck you?" I asked, almost crying. My voice was very tremulous. "Did I do something wrong?" Now the tears were rolling down my cheeks. What was the matter with me? But suddenly the idea that he didn't want me any more was breaking my heart.

"Ssshhh. Ssshhh." Now he was stroking my hair, and my face. He was the one who was soothing me. "It's just that I thought, maybe we could be a little more intimate," he suggested sheepishly.

"How do you mean?" I asked. I really didn't have the slightest idea.

"I mean. We're such good friends. Such really good friends. I was thinking how nice it would be to cradle you in my arms, and well...... well.... to be inside you. Do you know what I mean?"

"I think so," I nodded. I sniffled a little, but I was relieved. I wasn't losing him. I would just have to let him fuck me. Rosenbee would hear about this. My bonus would have to go up again. Higher. Much, much higher.

He reached behind the pillow and pulled out a small jar. "I've been thinking about this for a while now, so I got us something to make it easier." I nodded.

"Lie down on your belly and spread your legs," he said. He moved aside so that I would have the full width of the bunk. Then he crawled down and straddled me below my buttocks, and I could feel his fingers, wet and greasy, seeking entrance between my bottomcheeks. Into my virginal rectum.

He lay down alongside me, on his side, and kissed my neck tenderly, in appreciation of what I was going to do for him, as he widened my ring, and dilated my lower tunnel. His hand gently twirled inside me, until it almost felt nice. Then I saw him scoop some more goop out of the jar, and slather it all over his obscenely long, thick member. I didn't even want to think about what that would feel like inside me. I shuddered a little, but afraid as I was, I was starting to want it.

And then he started to move into me. My eyes flew open in wonderment. It was as if the last piece had been placed in the jigsaw puzzle of my body. I had been completed. This wonderful man had built a nest for his genitalia inside of me. And now there was the gentle pull and tug, pull and tug, pull and tug that was stimulating every membrane I possessed, and my very soul was soaring into the boundless heavens.

My god. I liked getting fucked. And if I could parlay this into an obscenely large payoff from a grateful insurance company, so much the better. I was going to tell Matt Rosenbee about the big cock that had violated my masculinity. That had faggotized me (temporarily, of course.) But I was not going to let him know how good it felt. I would keep that to myself.

Ethan was ever so slow. Ever so gentle. Like we had all night. Like we had forever. We were just glued together. Our hips working together with the perfection of nanochip technology. I didn't mind that he was licking the back of my neck, and behind my left ear. I didn't mind at all.

"You like it, baby?" he asked me.

"Oh, Ethan," I sighed. "How can you even ask? Never in my whole life have....."

"Then tell me, honey. Tell me how my big cock feels in your ass," he urged me. "Talk to me, sweetness." He gently hunched his ass forward, and his hairy balls tickled my scrotum.

"I want your big cock in me, Ethan. Now and forever. Never deny me the pleasure of having your big cock fucking my pussyass."

I heard him catch his breath. The word `pussyass' had captured his imagination. I had known it would.

"Fuck my cunt, lover. Fuck my hot tight cunt."

I guess he really liked cunt when he was not in the lockup, because every time I said cunt, he got a little more reckless in his rhythm. I knew I was going to bring him to completion if I continued in my female-submissive verbal mode, but he was liking it so much. I felt it was my duty to make it as good for him as possible.

Now he was gasping and he was no longer gentle. And he was hammering my assflesh noisily. Slap. Slap. Slap. They probably heard us on the next corridor. I would be the laughing stock of the prison, while I was doing my pushups in the yard tomorrow. But, what the hell..........

"Oh, honey. I'm gonna come. I'm gonna shoot my hot babyseed into your pussy. Do you want my baby, baby?"

"Yes. I want your baby. Give me your baby, baby. Fill me with your thick hot white creamsauce."

"Yes. It's coming. Get ready. Here it comes. Milk it out of me. Milk me."

He slammed and I milked. He slammed and I milked.

He screamed and I screamed. He screamed and I screamed.

"AAAAARRRGGGHHHH."

"YAAAAAA. YAAAAA." That was me.

"AAAAAARRRGGGGHHHHHH. CHCHE. CHCHE. CHCHE." It was like he had the hiccups.

I could feel the burning liquid filling all the empty spaces of my lower digestive track. He had stopped spurting, but I had not stopped milking. I had found a rhythm, and I could maintain it forever. And I had not come, so I was still a little horny. But he had come, and that was what really mattered. My man had come inside my body. My man. I loved him. I loved him. No I didn't, I tried to tell myself. It's just fucking. Not love. If you keep thinking love, you'll get hurt. Besides I was just doing all this for the money, wasn't I? I was gay for pay. Only for pay.

I turned around and kissed him playfully on the lips and lightly scratched his shiny scalp. "Thank you. That was wonderful."

"I know," he said. "It really was."

"So tell me about the jewels," I said.

"They're really magnificent. Diamonds and rubies and sapphires and emeralds. Rings, and earrings, and necklaces, and bracelets, and chokers, and brooches, and tiaras, and...."

"They sound so lovely," I opined. "But where are they?"

"Never you mind."

"But aren't you afraid someone will find them and take them, while you're in prison?"

"No. They're very well hidden."

"Tell me," I begged him.

He just bent forward and kissed me on the lips. "Ssshhh. Quiet. Let's rest now."

I shut my mouth, and after a little while, we both fell asleep. He held me in his strong arms all night long.

I got on the phone to Rosenbee the next day. Fortunately no one was around, so I could talk. But I still kept my hand in front of my mouth as I hissed into the receiver. "He's fucking me. Last night he put his cock up my ass."

"Good," said Rosenbee.

"Good!?!?" I asked. "That's good???"

"Yes. Maybe he'll trust you enough to tell you."

"He's still not talking. He's just fucking me. This is really going to cost you Rosenbee."

"I told you we'd take care of you, Westin. Get us back the fifty million in jewels, and you'll get everything you want. I won't screw you."

"No. Only Ethan Crosley gets to screw me," I said bitterly.

We said our goodbyes and I hung up the phone. The guard opened the door for me, and escorted me out into the yard to do my pushups. Everybody was smiling and looking at me. Every time I passed one of the mean tough ones, he would leer, laugh and grab his crotch. Offering me his cock and balls. This was really embarrassing. I just faced straight ahead, and went over to the calisthenics mats to do my pushups.

That night, as you may have imagined, Ethan fucked me again. First he made me suck him, and then we repeated last night's anal intercourse. It seemed like we were in a routine, when suddenly everything stopped. It seemed as if he had lost interest in me. Again. What had I done? How could this be? This couldn't be happening to me. I confronted him.

"You haven't touched me in a week," I complained.

"Yes," he admitted, sadly. "I'm sorry about that. I'm really sorry."

"But what did I do? Tell me. Please. Tell me." I was starting to cry a little.

"I didn't want to hurt you. I'm really sorry."

"Don't you find me attractive, anymore?"

"That's just it, man," he made an `I can't help it' gesture with his hands.

"But what?" I still didn't understand.

"You're a guy. Don't you see?"

"Of course, I'm a guy."

"I know I don't got a lot of choice here in the prison, but I'm really not into guys. I'm sorry."

What a cruel blow.

But then he continued, and I saw a ray of hope. "If only you looked more like a woman. That would turn me on. " He started nodding. "Yeah. That would really turn me on."

"And how could I do that?" I asked.

"Well. Maybe you could wear some pretty frilly underthings, and a short trampy skirt, and wear a lot of slutty face make-up. That might do it for me. I think I could get excited."

"You do?" I asked.

"Yes. Definitely," he began nodding his head happily.

"But how would I do that?" I asked.

"I was hoping you'd say yes," he admitted. "So I have everything you need over in that paper bag on the shelf there."

He had planned all this. He was a devil. He had everything I would need to excite him. He walked across the cell and got the paper bag. He sat next to me on the bottom bunk, as he turned the bag upside down and emptied out its treasures on our bed.

"Go ahead. Do it now. I want to see you."

"Okay," I said. I stripped off my orange prison suit, and pulled a pair of lacy pink panties over my bottom. The minute I had them in place, he began to rub his palm around on my latex covered bottom.

"Yeah. Yeah," he said. "Nice. So nice."

Then I put on a little short trampy skirt and a low cut blouse, with puffy shoulder sleeves. He nodded at me and smiled, and began gently feeling me and pinching me all over.

"Tomorrow, we'll shave you all over," he promised me. "So you'll be real smooth. Lady smooth. You'll be so nice. I love smooth skin. And no more hair cuts. The only hair on your body will be what flows down your back from the top of your head."

I nodded. What could I do? He had it all planned. But I had already decided I was not going to tell Rosenbee about this. I had gotten in too deep. I was on my own now. If I told him what I had no resorted to, I would have been totally disgraced. I could never have shown my face in public again.

Speaking of my face, Ethan was applying a pink flesh-colored foundation to my cheeks, blending it around my face lovingly. He painted my eyes. He added a little redness to my cheeks, and now he was artistically applying lipstick to my lips. Rembrandt. He pulled his head back and studied his creation. Then he began making my mouth a little fuller. When he was satisfied, he did one final thing. He added a little black beauty mark on the right side of my chin. He walked me over to the little mirror above the toilet. An unrecognizable slut stared back at me. But if Ethan was happy, so was I.

They started calling lights out, and I was about to get undressed.

"No. Stay like that," Ethan said. "I want you like that."

If this was what it was going to take to recapture his interest.... Well. So be it.

Before we got into bed, he did one last thing. He had a little atomizer, and he spread a tiny cloud of floral cologne all over me. I felt as if I had suddenly parachuted into a vast garden of gardenias. I sneezed.

"Bless you," said Ethan as the lights went out. He stripped off his orange uniform and we got into bed. He immediately began to nuzzle me, and I couldn't help but notice that his cock was rock hard. But Rock hard. Glory. I was getting fucked by my man again. Thank heaven.

The guards were doing him a lot of favors now. Every day, strange new packages were arriving at the cell door. And they were all for me. Beautiful new outfits. Nylon stockings. All the latest hippest fragrances.

Now he was kissing me all the time. At night in bed when he was on top of me, facing me, fucking me, he was chewing away at my full, and now, swollen lips.

"I love the taste of lipstick," he confided in me. "It's so fucking hot. I really know I've got a woman, when I taste lipstick." And then he jammed his tongue into his woman's mouth again. She sucked on it.

And he did something so sweet. A few times he let me come. He wouldn't touch my penis, but after he had come in my ass, he gave me a little plastic cup with a cover and let me jack off into it. He said he didn't want my cum all over the bed, which I could very well understand. When I finished, he would always take the plastic cup and put a cover on it, and then he would yell for the guard. In the middle of the night. Was he crazy? And why did he want the guard? He gave the guard the little plastic cup and whispered something in his ear. It was all very strange. But I didn't dare question him. I knew that in his mind, I was now female, and the female was to be submissive and obedient to the male of the species.

Eventually. I should have known. He had another request. "Your chest is so fucking flat," he complained. "I got nothing to grab on to."

"I'm sorry," I said, apologizing for my physical condition. There was just no pleasing this man. But then he spoke, and I realized there was.

"Hormones?" I repeated in confused stupefaction.

"You'd look so beautiful with boobs," he said longingly. "And you wouldn't have to shave anymore. You'd be so sweet and smooth. So beautiful."

"All right," I sighed. " I don't care anymore. Whatever you want."

He broke into a big smile and went over to the shelf, to get a package which had arrived just that day, but which he hadn't yet opened. He opened it now. He took out a large prescription bottle of pills. He filled a glass with water and handed me the glass and two pills.

"No time like the present to get started," he said.

I marveled how Ethan always planned ahead. He was always well prepared for any contingency. Whatever was in his mind, had already been arranged for. Always. No wonder he was a master criminal. I swallowed the pills and looked down at my chest. No change. I guessed it wasn't going to happen that quickly.

Then he called the guard and whispered something in his ears. I heard the word `refrigerator', and the guard disappeared. Five minutes later he was back with a small cold vial and a needle, which he handed to Ethan through the bars.

Ethan stuck the needle through the cork of the vial, and carefully filled the needle, squeezing out a drop to make sure there was no air in the needle. "Let me see your ass," he said.

"Oh, Ethan," I cried. "No needles. I hate needles."

"The pills aren't enough. You need the needles too. You'll get used to them. Show me your ass."

I lay down on the bottom bunk and lifted my skirt. Ethan pulled down my panties, and swabbed my cheek with some alcohol-dipped cotton. The needle plunged into my flesh. I could feel the femininity coursing through my veins. No longer was I just dressing as a woman. That woman had now entered my endocrine system.

After that, Ethan seemed satisfied with me. Over the next year, my chest filled out, my ass got heavy, (I thought I looked like a cello.) but Ethan was pleased. That was what counted. And it was a relief not to have to shave. My skin was pink and smooth all over. And my hair rested on my shoulders. Ethan bought me clip-on earrings, since my ears weren't pierced.

The time was approaching when Ethan would be released, and he had told me nothing. And what was I to do? A male investigator with tits and a big ass? How could I ever go back? What would become of me? I tried not to think about it.

But at night, in bed with Ethan. In our tight little lower bunk. Paradise. His lips on mine. His arms around me. His cock inside me. Why did it ever have to end? Why? Why? Why?

I just clutched him closer, and wrapped my receptive body around his. My arms and legs enfolded him, as if I could keep him a prisoner within me forever. But his prisoner days were coming to an end. That was my problem.

And I had failed in my mission. Failed miserable. I knew no more about the jewels today than I had known two years ago on the day I entered Sandusky Prison. Rosenbee knew that Ethan was about to be released and called me at least once a week for an update. I had told him to call me. Not to visit. I didn't want him to see me as I was. How would I ever face him again?

"I'm sorry," I apologized. "He just won't tell me. When he gets out, you'll just have to get me released. Right away. I need a vacation. I need to get away. I'm very tired."

"I'll take care of it," he promised me.

I was tired. It was all too much for me. I felt like crying all the time. I was moody. I was morose. Except for my little shrunken penis, I was for all intents and purposes glandularly a woman. A feminine bundle of quivering emotions. And it seemed like every day now was my time of the month.

Ethan could see what was happening to me, and that night he gathered me in his arms and held me as my curvaceous body was wracked with sobs.

"What's the matter, baby?" he asked me.

"You know what's the matter," I sobbed. "You're getting out of here soon, and I'll be all alone. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I don't want to lose you."

"Ssshhh," he comforted me. "I'm not getting out till June 22nd. That's still two months away. Do you have any idea when you're getting out?" he asked me.

"June 22nd," I answered. I didn't really know that, but I could arrange it.

"That's wonderful, baby. We'll be getting out of here together," he said, kissing my ear.

"And then what?" I cried. "Look at me. I can never go home again. What's going to happen to me? I can't get along by myself. I depend on you for everything. Oh, Ethan. I don't want to live without you. I'd rather die."

"Ssshhh," He kissed me again. He hugged me again. But then he got out of bed. I saw his strong naked body cross the cell to the shelf. He reached up for a little package. I admired his powerful hairy buttocks, and the large hanging testicles. They were so beautiful. Then he turned and walked back toward the bunk, and his large swinging meat kept flipping out toward me. I wanted it so badly. It was so beautiful. And his muscular thighs.......He sat down on the edge of the bunk. He took my small hand in his larger hand. Then he said to me, "I want you to marry me."

"What?"

"You heard me. I want you to marry me. Look. I'm getting down on my knees." He did. He got down on his knees, right beside the lower bunk, and still held my hand in his. He looked up into my eyes. "I love you."

"You do?" I asked. I couldn't believe this wonderful thing was happening to me.

"I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Look," he said. He opened the little package. In it was a little box. He lifted the lid. It was the most beautiful diamond ring. An engagement ring.

"Ohhhh," I breathed. "It's so beautiful."

"Put it on."

I put it on. I twisted my hand in every direction and admired the sparkle of the ring, even in the nighttime darkness inside the cell. There was a little moonlight coming through the bars in the high window.

"It's so beautiful," I said. "I love it. Is it one of THE jewels?"

"No," he said. "I bought this. For you."

"Oh, my dearest darling," I said, and I threw my arms around his thickish neck. "Yes. Of course, I'll marry you. I love you so very much. I always have." And then I thought of something and fretted, "but how can we get married. I'm a man. They don't allow a man to marry a man. And I want us to have a normal marriage. I want us to be like all the other happy young couples on the block."

"We will be, dear. I've planned everything. Your wishes will all come true. Leave everything to me."

I knew that Ethan did plan everything ahead. I knew he would keep his promise to me. I didn't know how, but I trusted him. Completely.

Later as we lay blended together in the lower bunk, his cock moving comfortably inside me, his lips against me, (we were on our sides, and my back was facing him-just to keep you clear on our position.) he asked me. "If you were a woman, what name would you like?"

I had never thought of that. "I don't know. I can't imagine. My name has always been Warren. I never thought of anything else."

"Well, think," he said, as he fucked into me and his scratchy hairs rubbed against the itch on my left buttcheek.

"Courtney?" I asked.

"Absolutely not," he said.

"I suppose you're right," I conceded. "I certainly would never want to be another Kimberly or Brittany."

"God, no," he agreed.

"Well, how about Wanda. It starts with a W. And it's not that far away from Warren."

"I like Wanda," he said. "From now on, I'm going to call you Wanda, baby. Just so I get used to it."

"Okay," I said.

I felt another instroke, and squeezed my asspussy around his large dick. Delicious.

"Oh, Wanda, honey. That's so great. So great. Squeeze that ass, Wanda, baby. You really know how to give your man a good time, don't you, Wanda, baby?"

"Yes," I said. "I do. Because you taught me. You taught me everything I know."

"I did. Didn't I?" He laughed. He had just realized that he had made me the woman I was. Totally. I was entirely his creation. I had been spun out of his dreams and made real by him. He owned me completely. Body and soul. But every day I worried. I worried. No matter how much he reassured me, I didn't know how our dreams could ever come to be.

The day of his release came. June 22nd. Ethan was being released at noon. I had called Rosenbee and told him he had to get me out of this place at the same time. He took care of his part of the bargain. My papers came through and I was due to be released one half hour later than Ethan. Rosenbee wanted me to come right back to the office, but I said no'. Absolutely not'. I told him, I was so totally wrecked from my two-year ordeal that I was going on vacation. He asked me where, and I told him I hadn't decided.

"Do you need money?" he asked me.

"Of course, I need money," I snapped at him.

"I'll wire you ten thousand dollars."

"You can wire me my two years back salary, plus ten thousand dollars," I yelled into the phone.

"Okay," he agreed. "That's fair."

"And make some arrangements. I don't want the check to say International Re. It would be very bad for me, if the wrong person saw it, if you know what I mean."

"I'll take care of it," he assured me.

The check came, the day before my release. It was from a numbered account in Switzerland. I'd always suspected that International Re might be some kind of rogue corporation. And that maybe they had secret dealings. And that maybe they had secret money in far off hidden accounts. Nothing would ever surprise me anymore. I was a criminal now. I had a record. I was wise to all kinds of chicanery.

Just before noon on the 22nd, Ethan gathered me in his long arms in our cell and kissed me. "What's going to happen?" I asked him.

"I'll wait for you outside the gate," he promised. "I have everything planned out. Don't worry."

But he was so closed mouth. He wouldn't tell me what his plans were. Suppose I came out the gate and he wasn't there. Suppose he abandoned me? I would have to kill myself. My life was over. Why did everything have to be such a big secret with him? I bit my lip.

At noon, they escorted Ethan to the gate and sent him out into the world. At 12:30 it was my turn. The guard came to get me. "This is how you're leaving?" he asked me. I had not donned the male clothing they had returned to me. I was leaving in a beautiful green silk dress, with long hair, and full make-up, with a darling little pillbox hat (with a veil) plus a green matching purse with a long golden chain. I really looked very nice.

"This is how I'm leaving," I told him. He shrugged his shoulders, and walked me to the gate. I held my breath as the gate swung open, but yes. He was there. My darling Ethan was waiting for me. Scraping his heels in the dirt road. I ran into his arms and we kissed and kissed. In the sunlight. We kissed and we kissed.

The first thing we did was to go to a bank and cash my check. Ethan had bought a suitcase and we took the whole thing in cash. Hundred dollar bills. It was heavy. Then Ethan showed me all the paperwork. He had spent a fortune. He had bought me a whole new identity. There was a birth certificate. I was now Wanda Warner. I had been born a little girl. There was a passport. There was a membership card in The American Contract Bridge League. (I would have to learn Bridge.) I was a whole new person.

How I wished that were really true. I still had that hideous little shriveled male organ between my legs. I reminded Ethan of this. He told me that he had arranged for that to be taken care of as well.

We flew to an East European city under our new identities. Ethan also had a new identity. Carson Colby. But he told me that at home, I could always call him Ethan. Only I would have to be careful when other people were around.

In East Europe, they checked me into a hospital, and did surgery. Not only did they transform my shrunken penis into a perfect vagina, but they enlarged my breasts considerably. I now was a 36C. They also did some delicate work on my larynx, so that my voice would be more ladylike. I was now a mezzo soprano.

We spent six months in Europe. Ethan wanted to be sure I was totally healed, before we left. At the hospital, they told me I would always have to keep myself open one way or another. But thanks to Ethan, I didn't have to buy a piece of plastic. Ethan was eager to ram his cock into my new vagina many times a day and every night. He just loved my pussy. And how he licked and squeezed my 36C's. He even sat on my chest and pressed my boobies around his dick, and fucked my titties. It felt so nice. And I loved having him in my new pussy. But given the choice, I would always prefer to have his cock steaming back and forth in my asspussy. That was where he had first deflowered me, and I had grown to love that feeling.

Ethan disappeared for a few days, and came back with the most beautiful gifts for me. Diamonds. Rubies. Sapphires. Emeralds. Rings. Earrings. (My ears were now pierced.) Bracelets. Necklaces. Everything.

"THE jewels?" I asked him.

"Yes," he said. "These are for you. I love precious stones. The shapes, the colors, the sparkle. I want to see my woman glittering in my priceless gemstones."

"I love you so much," I told him again.

That evening we were married at the City Hall. I held a beautiful bouquet, and wore diamonds and sapphires to go with my simple blue gown. Two of the nurses from the hospital were our witnesses. They cried. So did I.

"Where are we going to live," I asked him.

"Everything is taken care of," he assured me.

I was sure of that. I just wanted a little clue.

We flew to Prince Richard Island off the coast of Canada. At the airport, Ethan picked up a car that had been purchased for him. We drove out to our new family parsnip farm. Ethan was going to grow parsnips. Actually, he was already growing parsnips. There was already a whole working crew at the farm. Irma and Elsie were there. They had hired laborers, and gotten everything going. They were remarkable women. I would grow to love them.

When we got to the farm, both Irma and Elsie ran out to the car to greet us. They kissed their brother and they hugged me tightly.

"It's so wonderful to have a new sister," said Elsie.

"Welcome to the family," said Irma, who kissed me sweetly on the cheek.

"Thank you. Thank you," I said. "This is so wonderful for me. I've never really had a family. I always wanted a family. I always dreamed that one day I would be married, and have children." I shook my head sadly. "But I guess that is not to be. I can never have children."

"We have a surprise for you," said Elsie. "Come with us," she said to Ethan and me. "Both of you."

We went into the large farmhouse and climbed the oak stairs to the second floor. Irma took my hand and guided me down to the end of a long hallway. She opened the door. I couldn't believe my eyes. There were mobiles dangling from the ceiling all around the room. And there were two little cribs. In each little crib was a beautiful little baby. They were both sleeping. They both had blue blankets, so I knew that they were both boys. One of them had his thumb in his mouth, and the other one had fallen asleep clutching his little penis. They were so precious. I wanted to pick them up and kiss them and squeeze them, but I didn't want to wake them.

"But whose babies are these?" I asked. "Are they yours?" I asked the sisters.

"In a way," said Ethan. "But now they're yours."

"Mine? How can that be?" I was delighted, but mystified. Had I adopted them?

"Which is which?" Ethan asked his sisters.

"That's little Warren," said Elsie, pointing to the one with his thumb in his mouth. Naturally.

"And that's little Ethan Junior," said Irma proudly, pointing to the one who was holding his tiny penis. Naturally.

"Let me explain," said Ethan. "Little Warren here. Well, his biological mother is Elsie, which makes me his biological uncle, really. And his biological father is you, my dear." He smiled at me. I was totally confused. "But now, of course, you will be his mother and I will be his father."

"I see," I said. But I didn't. "And what about Little Ethan Junior?" Maybe that would be simpler for me.

"It's a similar situation," Ethan continued. "Irma is his biological mother, which makes me his biological uncle, and you, my dear, are his biological father. But now, of course, you will be his mother and I will be his father."

I still understood nothing. "But what about Irma and Elsie?"

"They will be the boys' devoted maiden aunts. It's just so much simpler that way."

This was so ridiculous. I was their mother, but I was really their father. And that was certainly impossible. I certainly had never had sex with either Irma or Elsie. Nor would I have wanted to.

"I still don't understand," I shook my head in complete befuddlement. "What are you telling me?"

"Remember those times when I let you ejaculate into a plastic cup?"

"Yes," I said. I remembered that.

"Remember when I gave the cups to the guards?"

"Yes."

"I had him refrigerate your sperm until Irma and Elsie could come up to get it. They took it right to a fertility center, and we were lucky. They both got pregnant immediately. They bore our children for us, darling."

I was speechless. I didn't know what to say. After a few minutes, I just began to cry. What a sweet unselfish thing they had done. I was a father. No. I was a mother. Of two beautiful perfect little baby boys. My Warren, and My Ethan Junior. I looked at the two of them, with love bursting from my heart. Warren teethed on his thumb, and Ethan squeezed his teeny peeny.

As the years passed, we lived and worked together in the old farmhouse. Ethan had had documents forged for the boys, so that they would never know that I had originally been their father, not their mother. And that Ethan had originally been their uncle, not their father.

I watched them grow strong and tall with pride in my heart. My two handsome sons.

"What's for dinner, ma?" Young Ethan would ask me.

""Broiled parsnips in tomato sauce," I would answer. What domestic happiness.

And having Irma and Elsie in the house was a joy for me. They helped me with the cooking. They helped me with the cleaning. They helped me with the laundry. We really were sisters. The three of us.

And my handsome husband. Working hard all day in the fields. Plowing. Planting. Pulling. Parsnips. Parsnips. Parsnips. We would never go hungry.

Every year, a few days before our anniversary, Ethan would fly off somewhere, and return on the day of our anniversary with a suitcase full of jewels. Little by little. Year by year. I was getting all of the stones I had gone into prison to find. I had found them, now, and they were mine. Ethan promised me that by our twenty-fifth anniversary, our silver anniversary, I would have them all.

We kept them in a safe room in the basement of the farmhouse, but every night, Ethan would select certain ones for me to wear in bed. He liked to see me all decked out in dazzling ruby, or emerald, or sapphire, or diamond necklaces, bracelets, rings, earrings, while he fucked my pussy or my ass. He said he had always gotten excited seeing a naked woman wearing jewels. It was his special fetish. He told me the stones I wore gave him a raging hard-on. Well, maybe they did. He certainly always had one.

There was this one ruby pendant, he especially liked. It was on a long golden chain, and it dangled down, in between my breasts. He liked to lick it, as he licked my boobies. He said it was smooth and cool to the tongue. Like an expensive red ice cube.

His tongue just tickled me, I kept squirming and laughing, and at that point, he would sink that hard cock into one of my orifices. One or the other. And I would throw my arms and legs around him and just cuddle him, and treasure him. I had the perfect life. A lovely home. Two darling sons. And my wonderful, wonderful husband. My beloved Ethan. I had finally evolved into who I was apparently born to be. I was Ethan's wife.