Absolute Devotion Ch 12

The cabin was much as Grandpa had described it, on a peaceful lake, surrounded by woods, and with Adirondack furniture on the porch. What he didn't describe very well was the interior, which contained two well-worn cots with stained sheets, a wobbly table with four rusty folding chairs around it, and a kitchen that included, amongst other things, an old man making a salad.

"Hi, I'm Victor," the man said. "I'll be done making this salad in a jiffy."

"Good to meet you, Victor. I didn't know we'd have company."

"Well, if I know Richie, he is eager to get that young lady into one of the beds, so I won't be getting in the way. I just thought I'd make a salad in case any of you were hungry after the long drive."

"I'm Grandma," I told him. "This is Whitney, and you already know Grandpa."

"Yeah, Grandpa, Richie, whatever he's going by these days is fine. Back when we were icing guys together in the mob, Richie used to get all the ladies, especially the young ones."

"Is that right?" Whitney asked Grandpa. "Well, someone wasn't being honest when they said they were lonely, were they?"

"That was a long time ago, sweet cheeks. That was back before you were born."

"Aw, Grandpa, did you used to be a real hit with the ladies?" Whitney asked, smiling.

"I know my way around the courtyard, if that's what you mean. I was thinking about making some beef stroganoff, anyone interested?"

"Are these binoculars?" I asked as I picked up a pair of binoculars.

"That they are," said Victor.

"Can I look through them with my peepers?" I asked.

"Sure, our house is your house."

I used the binoculars to scan the area around the cabin for any sign of the two detectives. Having gotten zero confirmation that they were still watching us, I had to assume they had gotten lost or been detained until I had proof that they were still following us.

"I like your tube top," Victor told Whitney. "I bet it comes off real easy."

"Just one swift motion is all it takes," she said before making that required motion and tossing the tube top onto the kitchen counter. "It isn't like I have much in the way of boobs anyway."

"Oh my, sweetie, you need to cover up. There are gentlemen present," I told her after giving up on the binoculars.

"Aw, come on Grandma," Victor said. "Ain't no harm done. You should live a little."

"Why stop with just the top?" Grandpa asked her. "We're all alone up here, Whitney. Why don't you get naked for us?"

"What kind of girl do you think I am?" she asked indignantly.

"How about you, Grandma? Why don't you take some of those clothes off? It's a little hot for a dress like that and that thick, rubbery pantyhose you're wearing."

"These are my medical tights!" I yelled out hoarsely.

Grandpa went into a closet and came out wearing just boxer shorts, a Hawaiian shirt he didn't bother to button up, and leather sandals. It was almost the same outfit Victor was wearing, except the boxers were different, as well as the print on the Hawaiian shirt.

"Come on, Granny, take your knickers off," coached Victor.

Someone knocked on the door and Grandpa went to answer it. After he saw who it was, he came back into the cabin and told me, "It's for you."

It was a man dressed like a park ranger and he looked nervous.

"Can I help you, dear?" I asked him.

"Two people in a van asked me to come up here and tell you something."

"Tell me what, for heaven's sake?"

"They just said to tell you that they are watching."

"Watching? How horrifying!"

I slammed the door and went back into the cabin looking mortified.

"What's wrong, Grandma?" asked the topless Whitney.

"Some perverts are watching us and they sent a man to tell us about it."

"That's disgusting," said Whitney. "I hope they like the show. Fucking perverts."

"Why don't we give them their money's worth?" Victor suggested. "If a pair of pervs want to watch, let's give them something to watch."

Victor walked over to a big window at the front end of the cabin. He looked out through the window and then pulled down his boxers. The old gray mare probably wasn't what it used to be, but he wasn't afraid to shake it around.

"Come and get it, piggy!" he screeched while looking at Whitney.

Grandpa joined in, squealing and oinking he grabbed Whitney's ass and pushed her towards Victor. "Soooooo... EEEEEEEEEE! Soooooooooo... EEEEEEEEEE!"

"Okay, stop!" Whitney yelled out, starting to cry. "You guys are getting out of control."

"What did you think you were coming up here for, crochet and mountain air?" Grandpa laughed.

"No, look, I'm just saying this is getting out of hand," she said.

"Let's be gentlemen, fellas, this young lady has asked you to stop..."

"Cut the fucking act, dude. We know you're a fucking guy," Victor snapped at me. "Did you really think anyone was going to buy this whole 'Grandma' act?"

"I bought it," Grandpa told his friend, looking suddenly confused. "Are you sure Grandma is a guy?"

"Yes, you fucking idiot, Grandma is a guy. I could tell that the moment he walked in here."

"How about me?" Whitney asked.

"We'll get to you," Victor sneered. "Coming up here all dressed like that and you think we're going to have tea and cribbage? Fucking unbelievable."

Whitney grabbed the top of her shorts and pulled them down. She had a very small, but quite complete, set of two testicles and one penis.

"What the fuck?"

I was completely confused. How could a guy have great legs like Whitney had? It was inconceivable and I found myself questioning my entire identity and missing most of what happened over the next few minutes.

Then I interrupted whatever everyone was saying and blurted out, "I think you have great legs, Whitney, and I don't care if you're a guy."

"I'm transitioning," she told me defiantly. "Don't call me a guy."

"If my girlfriend breaks up with me to marry Dirk, will you let me jerk off on your legs?" I asked.

"Yeah, let me give you my number when all this is over with," Whitney said and then pushed a button on her late 1970s style digital watch and said into it, "Okay, we're good to go. Bring it."

I suddenly put two and two together and realized Whitney was the undercover informant working for the drug cops. She was bringing in her people to arrest Victor. I couldn't have that. I couldn't disappoint Detective Haggerty.

I was still wired so I put my head down the front of my blouse and yelled out, "Okay, we're good to go. Bring it."

The door burst open and Detective Haggerty and Detective Rosewood came through the door with guns drawn. The park ranger fellow was with them, except he was now wearing a police uniform.

"Where did you guys come from?" I asked. "I've been trying to confirm that you've been keeping up with us all day."

"Police! Get down on the floor, hands behind your head!" Detective Haggerty called out, looking back and forth between Victor and Grandpa. Victor reached behind a curtain and I could see he had grabbed a gun. I shrieked like a woman and threw myself on the ground crying.

"Back up, bitch," Victor told her.

"Fuck you, asshole," Detective Haggerty growled and fired her gun, hitting him in the arm and forcing him to drop the gun. "Get on the floor, you fucking piece of shit!"

Grandpa tried to run, but Detective Rosewood hit him in the gut and he dropped down on the floor. Rosewood put handcuffs on Grandpa while Haggerty and Victor Dibella continued their standoff. Victor wouldn't get on the floor, even with a bullet in his arm, and Detective Haggerty was getting very annoyed.

Seeing Detective Haggerty in action got me very aroused. She was so strong and confident and when she made up her mind about something, she got it done. She was forceful, reasonably attractive, and had very nice feet that liked to make me happy.

"Get down on the floor, shithead, or the next bullet goes in your fucking head!" Detective Haggerty yelled. "On the floor, moron!"

I looked over at where Detective Haggerty was standing and saw her feet in her open toed high heels. With her standing in the position she went into when she was shooting bad people, her foot looked strong, dominant, and deadly sexy. I also liked that she had painted her nails fire engine red. I was left licking my chops as I stared at her feet and then tried to determine what her legs looked like based on the way the tight jeans she was wearing fit.

Once I heard her say, "Good decision, Dibella," followed by, "Cuff him, Rosewood," I knew it was over. I lunged forward and began kissing Detective Haggerty's exposed toes, the top of her foot, and covered her high heels with affectionate kisses.

"Wow," said Detective Haggerty as she looked down at me. "I guess when you're hooked, you're hooked. Eh, foot boy."

"Now I know why you call him that," laughed Rosewood.

Detective Haggerty kicked off her shoe and let me go to town on her entire foot. I ran my tongue up and down the full length of the top of her foot with long, wide strokes, like I was painting a house and enjoying it much more than I would if I were actually painting a house.

"I love your feet," I cried. "I love your feet, Detective Haggerty."

"Please, foot boy, call me Laura."

As Detective Rosewood and the police officer who pretended to be a park ranger led Victor Dibella and Richie Marcello out of the cabin in handcuffs, I stopped licking Laura's feet long enough to look up at her and tell her, "That park ranger cop guy isn't on the up and up. He came up here a little while ago and told me that there were two people in a van who were watching us."

"He was talking about me and Rosewood, you fucking idiot," she sighed. "Okay, leave my foot alone for a second. I have to get those two guys back to the city. We'll hook up later."

Detective Haggerty, or Laura as she wanted me to call her, shocked me by pulling me up off the ground with her superior detective strength, tore off my old lady wig, and then gave me a big kiss, right on the lips. My body temperature was increased by two degrees when she kissed me, and did not return to its normal temperature for almost a half hour after that.

Two men with long hair and sunglasses showed up at the door after Victor and Grandpa were led away. I was about to ask them if they were the perverts we'd been told were watching us when Whitney walked towards them, shaking her head.

"You guys are like twenty minutes too late," she told them. "Haggerty and that detective with the cheap-ass suit just walked off with both of them."

"I told you we parked way too far away," one of the longhaired cops said to the other before they began to jostle in the doorway. After a little shoving match, they fell onto the ground outside the cabin and started rolling down the hill together, like a scene from a cartoon, surrounded by a cloud of dust with arms and legs flying in every direction.

"So, you are really into feet, eh, Grandma?" asked Whitney.

"I'm not really an old lady," I told her.

"Yeah, we know that," she said. "You look like you're kind of cute underneath all those layers of wool and whatever. Would you like to get naked and go swimming in the lake with me?"

"I have a very wimpy build," I told her as she started to unbutton my clothes.

"I'm not perfect either," Whitney said. "How about a swim?"

"I have a girlfriend," I told her.

"Detective Haggerty?"

"No, my girlfriend's name is Erica. She's the most beautiful woman in the world and she has the hottest legs and feet in the universe."

"You seemed awful familiar with Haggerty."

"I sometimes cheat on my girlfriend with her," I explained. "Erica doesn't mind because Detective Haggerty makes me do it and I'm not strong enough to resist because she's a police detective with special powers."

"She's not jealous?" Whitney asked after stripping me down to the giant, 1950s era brassiere I was wearing under my old lady blouse and jacket.

"They don't like each other and some day they will probably have a catfight if what I saw earlier this morning is any indication."

"Wow, that's kind of hot," Whitney told me as she removed my bra and let the five balled up socks I'd forced into each cup fall onto the floor. "Women fight over you, eh? How often does that happen?"

"This is the first time."

"You're not so wimpy looking," Whitney said as she moved her hands over my bare, pasty torso. "You're just kind of boyish."

"I'm not all there, and sometimes my porch light doesn't go on, but I'm not sure if you are a girl or a boy. I don't want to say the wrong thing, but I am attracted to you and I'm afraid to look at your feet because you have a penis."

"I'm wearing sneakers," she told me. "What does my penis have to do with my feet?"

"Well, I don't understand. Are they boy feet or girl feet? I like girl feet, but I don't like boy feet."

"What if you look at them and decide?"

"I have to know first," I insisted.

"Why?"

"Because I only like girl feet, that's why!"

Whitney kicked off her shoes and took my head in her hands. "I'm a girl who was born with a penis and now I'm becoming the woman I was always meant to be."

"Girls can be born with penises?"

"Yes, they can," she told me. "Look at my feet."

Whitney was about 5'8" tall with long legs and a thin body. She had curves but barely anything in the way of breasts. She wasn't pale, but had light skin, long blonde hair, and a round face. She didn't look like a boy to me, and certainly not like a man, but although she seemed very feminine I had a great deal of trouble reconciling that with the fact that she had man parts between her legs.

Still, I couldn't resist the temptation to look at her feet, especially after she asked me to.

One look at her feet told me everything I needed to know. This was no boy. This was a girl. This was a woman. Her feet were so beautiful I struggled to find the words needed to properly describe them. It was hard to know where to start.

She had these fat little toes that stretched just long enough to make them the most delicious looking toes I'd ever seen. She had high arches like Erica, but the lines and wrinkles that ran through them looked as if they'd been engineered for maximum artistic value. She had strong heels, slightly callused but in a very subtle way, unlike the severe calluses that marked Detective Haggerty's heel. Her ankles were prominent and subdued at the same time, and I found myself staring, unable to look away.

"Your feet are gorgeous," I told her after taking a deep breath. "I want to devour them."

She put her sneakers back on and took me by the hand, leading me to the front window of the cabin and pointing out the dense forest that lead through the hills and up into the mountains.

"That view is gorgeous," she told me. "My feet are just feet."

"I accept that this view is gorgeous," I told her very seriously, "but your feet are also gorgeous."

"And the rest of me?"

"You have very beautiful legs, almost too beautiful for this world," I told her. "The penis and whatnot is a bit distracting, but I understand now that you were born with them as some kind of punishment for something you did in a previous life."

"You really think that's what happened?" she asked.

"You weren't supposed to be a boy when you were born. This is obvious to me now."

"No one has ever said that to me before," Whitney told me. "You're the first."

"I say a lot of different things," I told her. "You probably shouldn't put too much faith in my words. I'm not all there."

Whitney ran her fingers through my hair and smiled at me. "I think you're wonderful just the way you are."

"Does that mean you want me to worship your feet and do everything you say?"

Whitney laughed. "No, silly, that means I like you. I think you are a really great guy and I also think you sell yourself short. You're too hard on yourself. You say you're not all there, but you are all there. I can see it in your eyes."

"Maybe I'm all there somewhere in there, but I'm not all there on the outside where it counts."

"It is what is inside that counts, silly boy," she smiled. "You act the way you do, like you don't comprehend what's going on, because you don't want people to see the real you. Maybe you are afraid if you show them who you really are they'll hate you or hurt you, but you like to be hurt, you like to be humiliated, and you like it when women make you crawl around on the floor kissing their feet. You get great pleasure from that. I could see it when Detective Haggerty was in here."

"I like to worship women's feet very much."

"That isn't anything to be ashamed of. I think it's great. What is this girlfriend of yours like? I think you said her name is Erica?"

"Yes, Erica is my girlfriend. I had to take her away from Mike because he didn't respect her. I love her very much. My heart belongs to her along with most, but preferably all, of my erections."

"I can see you're hard right now. You're pitching a tent."

"I'm hard constantly," I told her. "I have to masturbate at least ten times a day or I suffer mental damage from buildup of semen."

"That's an urban myth," Whitney told me. "Semen doesn't back up into your brain."

"But if I don't jerk off ten or more times a day I start to act crazy."

"Would you like to explore the woods with me today?" Whitney asked.

"I don't want to get lost."

"I'll make sure you know where you are and how to get back," smiled Whitney. "And if you want, we could spend the night together here. It isn't like Victor and Grandpa are going to come back."

"I couldn't figure out, you know, back at Highlights, why you were so willing to go along with Grandpa's desire to have sex with you. I thought maybe you got off on having old men grope you and put their dicks inside you. That kind of grossed me out, but at the same time turned me on, but that might have been on account of my constant boner. The thing is, I was concerned about you. I didn't want you to be taken advantage of by that old man."

"The reason I played along with Grandpa was so we could find Victor and arrest him. Well, to be honest, before Victor got arrested and escaped I was working with the police to get information from him about people in the mob. I've been working Victor for months, had him wrapped around my finger, and I never did anything more than blow him a few times out in the alley."

"But you were forced to do that, right? Sort of like I was forced to lick Detective Haggerty's feet?"

"It was so I could keep him on the hook and convince him I wasn't a cop. I'm not a cop, I'm a confidential informant, so I have some leeway as far as things like sucking cock, taking drugs, getting handed fists full of hundred dollars bills, and stuff like that."

"I see."

Whitney stripped me naked, down to my granny panties, even taking the time to unhook my garter belts and pull off my thick, gray stockings.

"I didn't bring a change of clothes," I told her solemnly. "I needed to maintain my cover story."

Whitney went over to the overnight bag she'd brought and took out a t-shirt and a pair of bright pink short shorts. She handed them to me and said, "You can wear these."

"Those are girl clothes."

"You've been dressed like an old lady all morning. I don't think this would be too big of a stretch for you," Whitney said. "Just think of it like you got your youth back."

"My youth?"

"You were an old lady and then a miracle happened and you were young again."

"That sounds very exciting," I told her as I accepted the clothes and looked for somewhere to change. "It also allows me to maintain my secret identity on a whole different level."

"You can change in the bathroom," Whitney said and pointed to the hallway behind the kitchen.

After I changed in the bathroom, I looked in the mirror and tried to decide if I looked like I could pass for a younger woman. I had fooled everyone with my old lady disguise, but this was a bit more difficult to pull off. I was very skinny, pasty, and had zero muscle definition. I didn't find my legs attractive, as they were thin and boney. My knobby knees were wider than my thighs and my calves were like bones with skin wrapped tightly around them. No one would ever be fooled by this disguise.