Disclaimer: This story contains some vague mentions of lockdown. Very vague indeed, but still it is mentioned. There is no detail of illness or death caused by Covid nor any other type of virus or disease in this story (I mean... Why TF would there be?) So just a heads up there. Also, obviously, names and any personal details are fictional.
Hope you enjoy it. If you find something either brilliant or terrible, please let me know. I love reading both positive and negative comments / PM's equally.
**
Polly sat still as wind before a storm beneath steaming jets of water which made her skin prickle. A polka-dot pattern of prods and scratches blazed pink and red against the pale skin of her ribcage. Similar blemishes stained her hips and the full length of her thighs, some beginning to darken but none so vivid in their anger as the braided loops imprinted on the skin about her wrists and ankles. Bloodshot eyes, framed by jagged locks of her oily, urine streaked hair cut straight through her from within the heart shaped mirror at the end of the tub. She stared back at the wretch in that glass for so long the edges of her vision blurred and the eyes in the glass began to glow.
Beneath a sweltering stream the layers of oil coating her body began to melt, allowing her pores to breathe and the sharp aromas trapped within to mingle with the steam invading Polly's nostrils. With a slow breath through her mouth she reached over her shoulder and fumbled for a bottle of shower gel. She lathered the soap between her palms and brought it up to her nose, snorting a glorious sea salt and samphire infused breath so deep that her lower back twinged and her chest rasped, tickling her throat. She coughed into her hands and soap splattered across her face. She lowered her palms to her thighs and she grit her teeth, hissed and looked down to see a mesh of fingernail tracks zigzagging and swooping across her skin. Perhaps she'd been sensitive to their brand of nail varnish? Or perhaps they were just vicious, overzealous bastards.
The urge to pee was rude with its arrival. Polly glanced up at the toilet. She uncrossed her legs and washed the suds away, watching them run down the plug hole when an invisible coil snaked about her throat. That sound. Gurgling. Her heart raced and her chest tightened. Her feet slid against the oily tub and she grabbed at the shower curtain, pulling it and the pole down with a clatter against tiles. A buzzing. Her toothbrush rattled across the floor. With crushed ice coursing through her veins she dragged herself out of the tub, batted the pole out of her way and slumped with her face in the sink. She heaved as she threw on the cold tap. And pissed herself standing.
Buzz, gurgle, buzz, gurgle, gurgle, buzz, burgle, guzz, buzzgle, burz-
The world had been foggy and turned on its head. Polly was swaying side to side, the tips of her hair flirting with a drain cover. Her forehead felt swollen. Her eyes were heavy and something was stuffed inside of her mouth. Rope dug into her wrists and ankles and the air was rich with the scent of disinfectant. Her electric blue running suit was folded with care and placed beside her black boxers, matching bra and her dusty, powder pink Nikes inside a clear plastic tub set upon a floor of gleaming white tiles.
A presence behind her spoke. Female. Stern. A voice with a gravelly texture that hinted at cigarettes. "Stacey White, of 82 Sedgemere Gardens, Leicester, you have been found guilty by our court of violating local lockdown mandates, of resisting arrest and knowingly distributing misinformation relating to the current health crisis of our nation and in particular our city. Answering only yes or no, do you understand?"
That cleared the fog. Polly White, Stacey's twin sister, screamed. Blinking sweat from her eyes she craned her neck to the left and to the right while her vocal cords shredded her throat. A hand touched her thigh, ripping away the miniscule slither of hope that this could have been a nightmare in an instant. She counted three of them with her in the stark white washroom. Each masked and dressed as ebony shades. Her stomach churned. It was them. The scourge of the police and lockdown breakers alike.
The same voice spoke again. "Answering only yes or no, do you suffer from any heart, circulatory or respiratory problems that may impede your ability to be disciplined today?"
Disciplined!? A chill sweat flushed the length of Polly's legs and her hands and feet tingled as though swarmed by bees. She thrashed, rocking back and forth what little she could and causing herself to feel dizzy. Stacey! No! What have you…
"As you have satisfactorily answered in the negative, it is the order of our court that you shall be disciplined in a manner deemed appropriate for your age and apparent gender for an unspecified amount of time not exceeding four hours. Answering only yes or no, do you understand?"
The hand groping her thigh was greasy. The palm smeared its oil from her bum to behind her knees and soon a second hand joined in, coating the opposite side of her thigh and sliding upwards to Polly's calves. Her flesh was grabbed with little care, as though she were nothing but livestock being appraised before slaughter.
I'm not Stacey! I'm not Stacey! I'm not! Oh, God! Stacey what have you done!?
"... Answering yes or no, do you understand?"
Polly hadn't heard the statement. The disgusting rub down had taken a very sharp left turn and she hung stiff as a board while four lubricated hands investigated her legs. Their touches calculated, educated, purposeful.
And ticklish. Polly's fingernails dug into her palms. Her arms flexed against the ropes binding her wrists but found no slack. No wriggle room of any sort. She grunted, biting down onto her gag and her nostrils flared, sucking in ever more of the oppressive room's bitter air.
"As you have satisfactorily answered in the positive, disciplinary action can now commence. The next time you hear myself or an associate of mine speak will signal the end of your punishment. Answering only yes or no…" A rumble filled the washroom. Polly felt the bass of it in her bones.
"... Do you understand?" The speaker stood in front of Polly armed with the source of the rumbling - a hellborne distortion of something she'd once seen in an email from LoveHoney, a wand vibrator. Her core turned to a slab of ice. Only once in her lifetime had she experienced a vibrator. And it had been an entry level, my first vibe, deal. Once. Polly had not been built with those in mind.
But I'm… I'm not Stacey! This isn't right! Come on, please, let me speak!
While the Speaker's thugs worked Polly's legs ever harder, kneading and squeezing and awakening her virginal nerves to the excruciating agony of punishment by tickling, she jabbed Polly's tummy with her vibrator and the poor woman lurched in her bindings as if zapped with an exposed wire. It pushed into her skin, into her abs, skirting her belly button and head ever northward, coming to a halt atop Polly's bladder.
Speaker held it there, standing with her free hand on her hip, and nodded to her assistants. The appalling realisation that she would piss herself in front of strangers would be the final discernible thought Polly could hold in her mind for several hours.
From a pocket Speaker retrieved a remote control. She flicked a switch and the thrashing, drooling mass of flesh was lowered by the pulley system until her feet were at face level. Clutching handfuls of quivering leg muscle and tendon each and massaging the woman witless, her assistants buried their faces into her shivering soles, licking and biting until urine trickled over the vibrators head.
That vibrator was then mashed into Polly's breast, pushing the nipple inward until a cushy mound of flesh encircled its head like a donut and its rapid pulsation pounded through her chest and robbed her ability to breathe.
She became a hanging side of meat, a mindless blob reacting on instinct alone, every touch to her body feeling more supercharged than the last. Hot liquid dribbled from her crotch and streaked its way along her belly and breasts and it dripped from her shoulders onto the tiles.
The vibrator withdrew but the hands torturing her thighs and knees never missed a beat. They tweaked and grabbed and drilled Polly for all she was worth, forcing her to jerk like a snake caught by its tail. Exhausted didn't do the sensation justice of any sort. Probing fingers electrified her hips before grabbing her ribs and squeezing the air out of her. They slid with frightening ease between each bone until Polly could feel her lungs turning themselves inside out in search of air. She coughed and wretched through the gag and their sickening attention stopped.
Replaced at once with an invasion between her thighs. Something rubbery muscled its way inside of her, her eyes sprang open and she was greeted with the sight of Speaker's overalled legs speckled with the same dust as blighted her Nikes. From above came the sound of a button clicking and Polly felt an immediate, violent urge to pee.
The rubberised intruder rotated and buzzed at an obscene pace, reducing Polly's pussy to a gushing pulp in seconds and a stupefied scream ripped through her throat. She felt it splash up against her thighs. It cascaded down her butt cheeks and her hips and heated the back of her neck. And she couldn't stop it. The spinning worm worked her harder and faster and her muscles spasmed. They clenched around it, ravenous for more, even as she prayed for the stimulation to end and her screams burst forth until she lost her voice and she hung, bubbling and shuddering to the tune of a tinkling on the tiled floor.
Teeth returned to her soles, devouring her arches and gnawing the balls of her feet and her heels and in a grotesque twist of fate, the stimulation continued to jellify her pussy even after the rubber demon was shut off. Two parts of the body that Polly paid no heed to at once became sexualised in the extreme. They sucked her toes, Polly came. They licked the length of her soles, Polly came. They nibbled her ankles, Polly came. They raked their fingernails from the stems of her toes to the outer edge of her heels… And Polly sprayed. It ran down along her body in streams and gurgled, wet and sloshy, down the drain.
Polly rose from the tub, dabbed herself almost dry and let her towel drop to soak up the puddle of pee. Grimacing she stepped naked into her bedroom. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, perky and dewy and marked by the graffiti of their disgusting touch. A great spectrum of reds and purples blotted her ribs, her belly, her hips... She lifted her hands to tie her hair up. Forgot to shave. Ugh, fuck it. There were more pressing matters.
Their number was, staggeringly, quite common knowledge. It could be found on cards in almost every phone box across the city. She grabbed her mobile phone and sat on the bed. Taking three points on her licence for Stacey, sure, however grudgingly. But this? This could not slide. She looked down at her ankles and dialled.
The call connected but nobody spoke. Spurred on by the rings about her ankles, Polly filled the silence.
"My name is Polly White. Your people made a big, big mistake today. I was… Disciplined… In place of my identical twin sister. Her name is Stacey White and she lives at number-"
"-We are aware of the situation, Miss White." Cut in a well spoken, accentless male voice. "Rest assured that we are taking steps to ensure that this can never happen again. And do please accept our most sincere apologies."
Polly fell silent. What the hell was this? She wasn't calling to complain about a fucking broadband outage.
He continued. "May I ask, Miss White, if you don't mind, where did my agents acquire you?"
"Well… It's a bit blurry but somewhere near the Sence footbridge on the way to Fosse Park, I think."
"Have you a rough idea of the time of your acquisition?"
"I… Look, I don't mean to be rude here, but you guys operate outside of the law. You only get away with it because-"
"-Miss White, it's important that-"
"-NO, FUCK OFF, I'LL SAY WHAT'S FUCKING IMPORTANT." Polly leapt to her feet. Her blood pumped so hot she felt she could punch through to next door and feel nothing.
"What's fucking well important is you lot getting your fucking facts straight before pulling this sort of fucking shit. Do you have any idea what they-"
"-Miss White, please. Calm down and we can discuss-"
"-we can fucking discuss you compensating me! I can't go out to work with these bloody marks all over me!"
"Indeed. That sweatshop clothing isn't going to model itself, is it?"
Polly gawked about the room looking for someone to share her skin sizzling outrage with. Who the ACTUAL FUCK does he think he is!? Of course there was nobody there. But there was a wardrobe door.
"The issue I have, Miss White, is this. You were acquired away from your typical abode. For what reason had you left your home?"
"For exercise." Polly hissed, shaking her hand and checking her knuckles for splinters. "Which is allowed. Go on, next question."
"Take a moment to think before answering, please. Do keep in mind that my agents carry out rigorous observations prior to acquisition."
"Oh, is that right!" Polly laughed aloud, even as her boiling blood began to freeze at this particular line of questioning. "So rigorous that they got the wrong fucking person."
"A woman matching your description had been spotted at two addresses recently, number 82 Sedgemere Gardens and number 14 Grange Close, the latter having had people coming and going at all hours-"
"-That's Stacey's house! She's the one you wanted!"
"Quite. We were unaware that you are one half of a set of identical twins."
Polly stood with her free hand clawing at her scalp. She couldn't see any evidence of hidden cameras. But surely this was all a joke?
"Mate… Seriously." She rasped into the phone. "Even my fucking mum knows how to search for simple birth records. In two minutes you can see that two people were born to the same mother on the same fucking day! I mean…"
"Well. Quite. As I said, please accept our most sincere-"
"-No, no, no, I'll tell you what mate." Polly said, looking at her bruising and trying to do the sums in her head. "You transfer me over three grand for lost earnings, right now, or I go straight to the fucking police."
The man fell silent for a moment. Polly imagined him sitting at a desk somewhere, half listening to her, half scrolling through social media profiles looking for the next unfortunate cow to fuck over on some flimsy pretext of rule breaking.
"Counter offer…" He said, clearing his throat. "You may sit in on a disciplinary of your choice. I will email you pictures of potential-"
Polly's phone bounced off of the wall. Jumping onto her bed she screamed, clawing at the duvet and punching the pillows. His confidence made her feel ill. Was this a regular occurrence? Were innocent people genuinely being tortured out there and compensated with such invitations? He didn't seem to care about police action. Why not? Were they really that untouchable?
Stacey had to pay. She just HAD TO.
Polly's prayers were answered when she found her phone to still be in working order. She immediately texted her sister.
"Hi babes. Hope you had a bit of a better day today. I'm going for a run in a bit, wanna meet halfway at the usual spot by the bridge? I miss my girly xxx"
Then dialled the number. Again, silence greeted her. Here goes…
"Stacey is leaving soon for a run. Tell your people she'll be going the usual route. I'll be there to make sure it's done. I'll be out of sight. And you tell them this too… Nobody washed me. So I have their DNA on old covid tests I never used." There are moments when you can feel a person's expression change in response to revelation, even when talking to them on a phone. Polly grinned.
"They fuck with me again and I go straight to the police and believe me, I'll make them LISTEN."
That should about do it… She glared at the phone and cut off the faint grumbles of a man sounding as if his monocle just popped out - ka-ching, DNA bullshit sold - and drawing a deep breath she opened her wardrobe.
Leaving the house in her black Adidas leggings, matching top and a sweatband around each wrist she hit the pavements running and in record time made the journey to the bridge. She sat by a fallen tree where some kids had built a den in the weeks past. Wind rustled through the boughs, teased the surface of the river into ripples and cooled the skin beneath her breathable top.
But Polly found herself swimming with unease. She played with her phone, passing it from one hand to another. She despised Stacey for the shit she'd gotten her into and God knows she deserved what was coming. Besides, it's not like they were going to kill her.
But this was brand new territory. Polly had never been a player on this side of the fence before. Everything felt different. Even the wind seemed to carry with it a foreboding whisper she couldn't quite make out, though she definitely recognised its tone. It prickled the back of her neck. Glancing over her shoulder she rose to her feet and pulled out her phone.
"Changed my mind. Don't come out. Will explain later. X" She fired off the text at the precise moment Stacey herself replied to the original.
"Aw Pols babes, been meaning to text ya. Tested positive ain't I! Don't worry there's no cough or owt like that, just feeling like a proper old nanna. I'll bell ya later, miss you too! Love S xoxox"
It had always been a challenge to discern Stacey's bullshit from fact, but this was plausible. After all, one of the reasons she'd made the radar of those sick freaks in the first place was exposing herself and others to risk.
"Bless ya babe, look after yourself, let me know if you need anything, speak soon xxx"
Then a branch snapped. Polly's phone fell through her fingers. Oh, no, NO! OH MY GOD, NO! She bolted towards the gate. Exit blocked. She lost her footing on the gravel when she tried to stop. Dust and stone scraped across her elbows. She clawed at it and forced herself back up.
Polly ran. Her tongue felt swollen and dry and the chill evening air crackled in her lungs. There were two, no three, four of them. A weight on her back tackled her into the dirt and her wrists were wrenched behind her back. She watched her sweatbands fly. Plastic zipped and bit into her skin.
"WAIT, WAIT, THIS ISN'T- OW! I'M NOT- MMPH!"
The stifling darkness of a hood. Perfume and sweat. A strand of hair tickled her nose.
NOOOOOOO!
Polly left the ground and rocked on a shoulder. "Stacey White, isn't it?" The man slapped her arse. "So good to finally meet you. You have an awful lot of explaining to do, young lady…"
**
Hope you enjoy it. If you find something either brilliant or terrible, please let me know. I love reading both positive and negative comments / PM's equally.
**
Polly sat still as wind before a storm beneath steaming jets of water which made her skin prickle. A polka-dot pattern of prods and scratches blazed pink and red against the pale skin of her ribcage. Similar blemishes stained her hips and the full length of her thighs, some beginning to darken but none so vivid in their anger as the braided loops imprinted on the skin about her wrists and ankles. Bloodshot eyes, framed by jagged locks of her oily, urine streaked hair cut straight through her from within the heart shaped mirror at the end of the tub. She stared back at the wretch in that glass for so long the edges of her vision blurred and the eyes in the glass began to glow.
Beneath a sweltering stream the layers of oil coating her body began to melt, allowing her pores to breathe and the sharp aromas trapped within to mingle with the steam invading Polly's nostrils. With a slow breath through her mouth she reached over her shoulder and fumbled for a bottle of shower gel. She lathered the soap between her palms and brought it up to her nose, snorting a glorious sea salt and samphire infused breath so deep that her lower back twinged and her chest rasped, tickling her throat. She coughed into her hands and soap splattered across her face. She lowered her palms to her thighs and she grit her teeth, hissed and looked down to see a mesh of fingernail tracks zigzagging and swooping across her skin. Perhaps she'd been sensitive to their brand of nail varnish? Or perhaps they were just vicious, overzealous bastards.
The urge to pee was rude with its arrival. Polly glanced up at the toilet. She uncrossed her legs and washed the suds away, watching them run down the plug hole when an invisible coil snaked about her throat. That sound. Gurgling. Her heart raced and her chest tightened. Her feet slid against the oily tub and she grabbed at the shower curtain, pulling it and the pole down with a clatter against tiles. A buzzing. Her toothbrush rattled across the floor. With crushed ice coursing through her veins she dragged herself out of the tub, batted the pole out of her way and slumped with her face in the sink. She heaved as she threw on the cold tap. And pissed herself standing.
Buzz, gurgle, buzz, gurgle, gurgle, buzz, burgle, guzz, buzzgle, burz-
The world had been foggy and turned on its head. Polly was swaying side to side, the tips of her hair flirting with a drain cover. Her forehead felt swollen. Her eyes were heavy and something was stuffed inside of her mouth. Rope dug into her wrists and ankles and the air was rich with the scent of disinfectant. Her electric blue running suit was folded with care and placed beside her black boxers, matching bra and her dusty, powder pink Nikes inside a clear plastic tub set upon a floor of gleaming white tiles.
A presence behind her spoke. Female. Stern. A voice with a gravelly texture that hinted at cigarettes. "Stacey White, of 82 Sedgemere Gardens, Leicester, you have been found guilty by our court of violating local lockdown mandates, of resisting arrest and knowingly distributing misinformation relating to the current health crisis of our nation and in particular our city. Answering only yes or no, do you understand?"
That cleared the fog. Polly White, Stacey's twin sister, screamed. Blinking sweat from her eyes she craned her neck to the left and to the right while her vocal cords shredded her throat. A hand touched her thigh, ripping away the miniscule slither of hope that this could have been a nightmare in an instant. She counted three of them with her in the stark white washroom. Each masked and dressed as ebony shades. Her stomach churned. It was them. The scourge of the police and lockdown breakers alike.
The same voice spoke again. "Answering only yes or no, do you suffer from any heart, circulatory or respiratory problems that may impede your ability to be disciplined today?"
Disciplined!? A chill sweat flushed the length of Polly's legs and her hands and feet tingled as though swarmed by bees. She thrashed, rocking back and forth what little she could and causing herself to feel dizzy. Stacey! No! What have you…
"As you have satisfactorily answered in the negative, it is the order of our court that you shall be disciplined in a manner deemed appropriate for your age and apparent gender for an unspecified amount of time not exceeding four hours. Answering only yes or no, do you understand?"
The hand groping her thigh was greasy. The palm smeared its oil from her bum to behind her knees and soon a second hand joined in, coating the opposite side of her thigh and sliding upwards to Polly's calves. Her flesh was grabbed with little care, as though she were nothing but livestock being appraised before slaughter.
I'm not Stacey! I'm not Stacey! I'm not! Oh, God! Stacey what have you done!?
"... Answering yes or no, do you understand?"
Polly hadn't heard the statement. The disgusting rub down had taken a very sharp left turn and she hung stiff as a board while four lubricated hands investigated her legs. Their touches calculated, educated, purposeful.
And ticklish. Polly's fingernails dug into her palms. Her arms flexed against the ropes binding her wrists but found no slack. No wriggle room of any sort. She grunted, biting down onto her gag and her nostrils flared, sucking in ever more of the oppressive room's bitter air.
"As you have satisfactorily answered in the positive, disciplinary action can now commence. The next time you hear myself or an associate of mine speak will signal the end of your punishment. Answering only yes or no…" A rumble filled the washroom. Polly felt the bass of it in her bones.
"... Do you understand?" The speaker stood in front of Polly armed with the source of the rumbling - a hellborne distortion of something she'd once seen in an email from LoveHoney, a wand vibrator. Her core turned to a slab of ice. Only once in her lifetime had she experienced a vibrator. And it had been an entry level, my first vibe, deal. Once. Polly had not been built with those in mind.
But I'm… I'm not Stacey! This isn't right! Come on, please, let me speak!
While the Speaker's thugs worked Polly's legs ever harder, kneading and squeezing and awakening her virginal nerves to the excruciating agony of punishment by tickling, she jabbed Polly's tummy with her vibrator and the poor woman lurched in her bindings as if zapped with an exposed wire. It pushed into her skin, into her abs, skirting her belly button and head ever northward, coming to a halt atop Polly's bladder.
Speaker held it there, standing with her free hand on her hip, and nodded to her assistants. The appalling realisation that she would piss herself in front of strangers would be the final discernible thought Polly could hold in her mind for several hours.
From a pocket Speaker retrieved a remote control. She flicked a switch and the thrashing, drooling mass of flesh was lowered by the pulley system until her feet were at face level. Clutching handfuls of quivering leg muscle and tendon each and massaging the woman witless, her assistants buried their faces into her shivering soles, licking and biting until urine trickled over the vibrators head.
That vibrator was then mashed into Polly's breast, pushing the nipple inward until a cushy mound of flesh encircled its head like a donut and its rapid pulsation pounded through her chest and robbed her ability to breathe.
She became a hanging side of meat, a mindless blob reacting on instinct alone, every touch to her body feeling more supercharged than the last. Hot liquid dribbled from her crotch and streaked its way along her belly and breasts and it dripped from her shoulders onto the tiles.
The vibrator withdrew but the hands torturing her thighs and knees never missed a beat. They tweaked and grabbed and drilled Polly for all she was worth, forcing her to jerk like a snake caught by its tail. Exhausted didn't do the sensation justice of any sort. Probing fingers electrified her hips before grabbing her ribs and squeezing the air out of her. They slid with frightening ease between each bone until Polly could feel her lungs turning themselves inside out in search of air. She coughed and wretched through the gag and their sickening attention stopped.
Replaced at once with an invasion between her thighs. Something rubbery muscled its way inside of her, her eyes sprang open and she was greeted with the sight of Speaker's overalled legs speckled with the same dust as blighted her Nikes. From above came the sound of a button clicking and Polly felt an immediate, violent urge to pee.
The rubberised intruder rotated and buzzed at an obscene pace, reducing Polly's pussy to a gushing pulp in seconds and a stupefied scream ripped through her throat. She felt it splash up against her thighs. It cascaded down her butt cheeks and her hips and heated the back of her neck. And she couldn't stop it. The spinning worm worked her harder and faster and her muscles spasmed. They clenched around it, ravenous for more, even as she prayed for the stimulation to end and her screams burst forth until she lost her voice and she hung, bubbling and shuddering to the tune of a tinkling on the tiled floor.
Teeth returned to her soles, devouring her arches and gnawing the balls of her feet and her heels and in a grotesque twist of fate, the stimulation continued to jellify her pussy even after the rubber demon was shut off. Two parts of the body that Polly paid no heed to at once became sexualised in the extreme. They sucked her toes, Polly came. They licked the length of her soles, Polly came. They nibbled her ankles, Polly came. They raked their fingernails from the stems of her toes to the outer edge of her heels… And Polly sprayed. It ran down along her body in streams and gurgled, wet and sloshy, down the drain.
Polly rose from the tub, dabbed herself almost dry and let her towel drop to soak up the puddle of pee. Grimacing she stepped naked into her bedroom. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, perky and dewy and marked by the graffiti of their disgusting touch. A great spectrum of reds and purples blotted her ribs, her belly, her hips... She lifted her hands to tie her hair up. Forgot to shave. Ugh, fuck it. There were more pressing matters.
Their number was, staggeringly, quite common knowledge. It could be found on cards in almost every phone box across the city. She grabbed her mobile phone and sat on the bed. Taking three points on her licence for Stacey, sure, however grudgingly. But this? This could not slide. She looked down at her ankles and dialled.
The call connected but nobody spoke. Spurred on by the rings about her ankles, Polly filled the silence.
"My name is Polly White. Your people made a big, big mistake today. I was… Disciplined… In place of my identical twin sister. Her name is Stacey White and she lives at number-"
"-We are aware of the situation, Miss White." Cut in a well spoken, accentless male voice. "Rest assured that we are taking steps to ensure that this can never happen again. And do please accept our most sincere apologies."
Polly fell silent. What the hell was this? She wasn't calling to complain about a fucking broadband outage.
He continued. "May I ask, Miss White, if you don't mind, where did my agents acquire you?"
"Well… It's a bit blurry but somewhere near the Sence footbridge on the way to Fosse Park, I think."
"Have you a rough idea of the time of your acquisition?"
"I… Look, I don't mean to be rude here, but you guys operate outside of the law. You only get away with it because-"
"-Miss White, it's important that-"
"-NO, FUCK OFF, I'LL SAY WHAT'S FUCKING IMPORTANT." Polly leapt to her feet. Her blood pumped so hot she felt she could punch through to next door and feel nothing.
"What's fucking well important is you lot getting your fucking facts straight before pulling this sort of fucking shit. Do you have any idea what they-"
"-Miss White, please. Calm down and we can discuss-"
"-we can fucking discuss you compensating me! I can't go out to work with these bloody marks all over me!"
"Indeed. That sweatshop clothing isn't going to model itself, is it?"
Polly gawked about the room looking for someone to share her skin sizzling outrage with. Who the ACTUAL FUCK does he think he is!? Of course there was nobody there. But there was a wardrobe door.
"The issue I have, Miss White, is this. You were acquired away from your typical abode. For what reason had you left your home?"
"For exercise." Polly hissed, shaking her hand and checking her knuckles for splinters. "Which is allowed. Go on, next question."
"Take a moment to think before answering, please. Do keep in mind that my agents carry out rigorous observations prior to acquisition."
"Oh, is that right!" Polly laughed aloud, even as her boiling blood began to freeze at this particular line of questioning. "So rigorous that they got the wrong fucking person."
"A woman matching your description had been spotted at two addresses recently, number 82 Sedgemere Gardens and number 14 Grange Close, the latter having had people coming and going at all hours-"
"-That's Stacey's house! She's the one you wanted!"
"Quite. We were unaware that you are one half of a set of identical twins."
Polly stood with her free hand clawing at her scalp. She couldn't see any evidence of hidden cameras. But surely this was all a joke?
"Mate… Seriously." She rasped into the phone. "Even my fucking mum knows how to search for simple birth records. In two minutes you can see that two people were born to the same mother on the same fucking day! I mean…"
"Well. Quite. As I said, please accept our most sincere-"
"-No, no, no, I'll tell you what mate." Polly said, looking at her bruising and trying to do the sums in her head. "You transfer me over three grand for lost earnings, right now, or I go straight to the fucking police."
The man fell silent for a moment. Polly imagined him sitting at a desk somewhere, half listening to her, half scrolling through social media profiles looking for the next unfortunate cow to fuck over on some flimsy pretext of rule breaking.
"Counter offer…" He said, clearing his throat. "You may sit in on a disciplinary of your choice. I will email you pictures of potential-"
Polly's phone bounced off of the wall. Jumping onto her bed she screamed, clawing at the duvet and punching the pillows. His confidence made her feel ill. Was this a regular occurrence? Were innocent people genuinely being tortured out there and compensated with such invitations? He didn't seem to care about police action. Why not? Were they really that untouchable?
Stacey had to pay. She just HAD TO.
Polly's prayers were answered when she found her phone to still be in working order. She immediately texted her sister.
"Hi babes. Hope you had a bit of a better day today. I'm going for a run in a bit, wanna meet halfway at the usual spot by the bridge? I miss my girly xxx"
Then dialled the number. Again, silence greeted her. Here goes…
"Stacey is leaving soon for a run. Tell your people she'll be going the usual route. I'll be there to make sure it's done. I'll be out of sight. And you tell them this too… Nobody washed me. So I have their DNA on old covid tests I never used." There are moments when you can feel a person's expression change in response to revelation, even when talking to them on a phone. Polly grinned.
"They fuck with me again and I go straight to the police and believe me, I'll make them LISTEN."
That should about do it… She glared at the phone and cut off the faint grumbles of a man sounding as if his monocle just popped out - ka-ching, DNA bullshit sold - and drawing a deep breath she opened her wardrobe.
Leaving the house in her black Adidas leggings, matching top and a sweatband around each wrist she hit the pavements running and in record time made the journey to the bridge. She sat by a fallen tree where some kids had built a den in the weeks past. Wind rustled through the boughs, teased the surface of the river into ripples and cooled the skin beneath her breathable top.
But Polly found herself swimming with unease. She played with her phone, passing it from one hand to another. She despised Stacey for the shit she'd gotten her into and God knows she deserved what was coming. Besides, it's not like they were going to kill her.
But this was brand new territory. Polly had never been a player on this side of the fence before. Everything felt different. Even the wind seemed to carry with it a foreboding whisper she couldn't quite make out, though she definitely recognised its tone. It prickled the back of her neck. Glancing over her shoulder she rose to her feet and pulled out her phone.
"Changed my mind. Don't come out. Will explain later. X" She fired off the text at the precise moment Stacey herself replied to the original.
"Aw Pols babes, been meaning to text ya. Tested positive ain't I! Don't worry there's no cough or owt like that, just feeling like a proper old nanna. I'll bell ya later, miss you too! Love S xoxox"
It had always been a challenge to discern Stacey's bullshit from fact, but this was plausible. After all, one of the reasons she'd made the radar of those sick freaks in the first place was exposing herself and others to risk.
"Bless ya babe, look after yourself, let me know if you need anything, speak soon xxx"
Then a branch snapped. Polly's phone fell through her fingers. Oh, no, NO! OH MY GOD, NO! She bolted towards the gate. Exit blocked. She lost her footing on the gravel when she tried to stop. Dust and stone scraped across her elbows. She clawed at it and forced herself back up.
Polly ran. Her tongue felt swollen and dry and the chill evening air crackled in her lungs. There were two, no three, four of them. A weight on her back tackled her into the dirt and her wrists were wrenched behind her back. She watched her sweatbands fly. Plastic zipped and bit into her skin.
"WAIT, WAIT, THIS ISN'T- OW! I'M NOT- MMPH!"
The stifling darkness of a hood. Perfume and sweat. A strand of hair tickled her nose.
NOOOOOOO!
Polly left the ground and rocked on a shoulder. "Stacey White, isn't it?" The man slapped her arse. "So good to finally meet you. You have an awful lot of explaining to do, young lady…"
**
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