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The Janus Amulet

by Captain Zammo
Throughout history, enigmas have always arisen. Why for instance, did the Greeks win at Marathon against a vastly superior Persian force? What kept the Moslem invaders out of Vienna, preserving the Holy Roman Empire? What happened to Woodrow Wilson, a man of peace; that enabled him to wage war?
Not only in military history, but these questions rise in the history of politics and of peace as well. What prompted Mohandas Ghandi to forsake a promising law practice and become an aesetic monk? What drove King George to madness, and then back to sanity? And why would Henry VIII forsake a strong alliance with the Vatican and become like the heretic Martin Luther, whom hed condemned? I stopped my dictation, the little recorder stopping alongside with me. I turned my prize over slowly in my gloved hand. I knew better than to let it come into contact with my bare skin.
It was not large, but the exquisite craftsmanship of the Janus necklace made it a treasure worth possessing. Made of the finest silver, it was shaped in the image of Janus, the two faced Roman God of the Threshold. Janus faced both directions at one time. But my researching had indicated that it was so much more than that.
I crossed the room to the television set. The early morning news was starting and I caught the blurb. ,,,ting the grisly news, Christine King was found in a coma this morning, the apparent victim of a break-in. King was know to the citizens of Queen City for her financial acumen and generosity. It is still not known at this time who or why she was attacked.
I could answer that, I said to myself. Tracking the Janus amulet through the centuries had been difficult, but not impossible. I wasnt too surprised Giovanni Cafazo had given it to Christine. (Though at the time she went by the name Phantazy--shed been an exotic dancer.) The ex gangster had been a Wall Street genius before he turned to crime.
I hated Christine, she had ruined my budding brokerage. Wilson Investments had a smaller clientele, but a very elite one. The company had made money hand over fist for its clients and for me, Rob Wilson. That was before Christine showed up on the Street. With her pendulous breasts and strippers body she stole my clients from me in droves. Worse, she was successful at it. Her worst guesses generally scored her clients more money than my biggest successes. The ultimate insult had come when she bought me out, then forced me to the curb. I wasnt sure where she had come from, so I did my homework. Thats where I discovered so many changes from people. King, Cafazo, Gilberti, Romanoff, Wilson, Ghandi; they were all there. Something had happened and I found whispers, rumors and out and out lies regarding the Janus Amulet.
The best information I had on it was that it stole the personality of whoever wore it continuously for six hours, and replaced it with the personality of the previous wearer, In the light of Cafazo and King, it seemed to fit. And if that pattern held true, then I had trapped an exotic dancer, a submissive slave of Cafazos crime empire. Phantazy had been more than a dancer. Cafazo and his associates had utilized her services as a woman on more than one occasion. Additionally, at least three of his strip clubs were of the bondage variety, and Phantazy had performed at all of them.
That had changed when she became Christine again. But now she had gotten what she deserved.
My rhapsodizing was cut short when I heard the television announcer say, And Spangle was busy tonight, rounding up more members of the Cafazo gang. The screen showed a beautiful brunette confidently leading a chain of men. The chain was made of several bumpers, wrapped around the arms of the three gangsters. They tugged at the bumper trying to get free, but it was futile.
My mind zeroed in on the woman. She was built like a brick house--strong, well toned. And she knew it. Her outfit was a bikini that might have gotten her arrested on the beach here in Queen City. The top was all blue with a star motif, like the American Flag. Her bottom was almost a thong, but it managed to have a total of five stripes--red and white. She wore knee high red boots with a wide blue band around the top. Inside each of the bands were large white stars.
She wore elbow length red riding gloves, a tiny red cape and had a red mask covering her face, but accentuating her china blue eyes. I felt myself getting aroused, wondering what it would take to get inside her panties.
Not much, I laughed. Then I grew serious. I looked down at the amulet sitting on the velvet tray. Oh my God! I thought as an audacious thought grew inside my head. Oh my GOD! I knew that the only things that switched with the Janus amulet were the personalities. The person would retain all the physical attributes, the mental attributes, but their force of will, their mannerisms, their overall actions would change.
But could I pull it off?
Trish smiled for the cameras as she brought the gangsters to the FBI station. She exuded confidence and played the definitive heroine for the media. Not bad for girl who discovered her powers only three years ago, she thought.
She remembered the day she found the glowing red stone that had bestowed on her the ability to fly, bend steel and repel bullets. The stone was shiny and from the stars, no doubt. Trish had been in her sequined cheerleader outfit at the time and had flown in astonishment over the city. The Queen City Times had christened the new flying girl Spangle, and the name stuck.
She had worked on developing her powers for months and made a formal entry into the world two years ago. Shed been faced with guns, lightning beams, death rays, criminals and super villains. Shed survived them all and had made a name for herself among the criminal element. That name was Ms Bad News.
Recently, Trish had spent her attention on defeating the remains of the Giovanni Cafazo gang. So far, she had made a sizable dent in their operations and was unsurprised that Cafazo himself had put a price tag of ten million dollars on her head. She doubted that it would ever be collected.
Careful there Trish, she warned herself. Just because no one has found a weak spot yet, doesnt mean there ISNT one. She posed a few more times for the press photographers then flew off into the night.
Arriving at home, Trish slipped into a soft satiny nightgown and slid into her bed. Morning arrived far too early, and she rolled over, groaning. Fortunately, today was Friday and was not a shooting day. Trish Collins, super model, could grab another hour of sleep before hitting the exercise and diet regimen for the day.
After arising and showering, Trish nibbled on an oatmeal muffin and sipped her orange juice. She glanced at the paper, surprised that her nocturnal activities hadnt made the front page. But the headline dealt with the attack on Christine King. Intrigued, Trish read about the savage attack on the financier.
Expected to make a full recovery, she said. Too bad about the coma, I might have been able to use the information to help me find her attacker. Still, I might be able to compile a list of her enemies.
Trish sat on her exercise bike, her spandex tights snugly accentuating every curve on her trim form. As she pedaled, she studied an Internet listing of acquisitions that King Enterprises had made. These men and women might make an excellent starting point. she said. I think Ill pay a call on a few of them tonight.
My plans had to be flawless. In order for this to work, I had to get Spangle to wear the amulet for six hours straight. But how would I do it? For that matter, how would I FIND her? It wasnt as though super heroines were in the habit of ringing my doorbell every night. And besides, why would Spangle even THINK of someone like me?
The doorbell rang. My heart jumped from guilt, worrying that the police had connected me to the attack on Christine. I calmed myself, and slipped off the couch. Coming! I called as the bell rang a second time. I took a deep breath, collecting all the brain power I could muster. My mind was imagining all the horrible things that could be at the door as I turned the knob.
Opening the door and staring at the floor, I saw a pair of bright red boots on my doormat. I followed them up the pair of toned legs, lingered over the striped bikini bottom and the two blue spangled breasts, the short red cape riding on her shoulders, and finally on to the face. "Sp--Spangle!" I stammered. "This is an honor. Wont you come in?"
She smiled and crossed the threshold. I closed the door and ushered her into my living room. I offered her a seat, and she sat down, daintily crossing her legs. She seemed completely unaware of the sexual energy she was exuding.
Can I get you anything? I asked. She politely shook her head. Then she said, I came to ask you a few questions.
I slid into my chair, nervous. Sure enough, her questions were about the takeover of my business by Christine King. Yes I knew who she was, and yes I hated her. Who wouldnt? She had taken my goals and dreams and crushed them. No, I had no idea where she lived, though I certainly knew where her offices were located; theyd been mine, once. Where was I last night? I stayed home, watching television. I had seen both Survivor and CSI. And no, there were no witnesses, and I hadnt made any telephone calls to verify that.
It was dry in my house, and my throat felt parched. I stood to get a glass of iced tea. Would you like one? I offered a second time. I expected her to say no, but she said thank you. I went into the kitchen and found two relatively clean glasses. I filled them with iced tea and asked if she wanted anything.
Just a little sugar, please. she said. While digging in the cabinet for the sugar, I found the prescription sleeping capsules my doctor had given me when I lost my business. I remembered the time, and the potency of the drugs. Two had always been enough to put me to sleep in thirty minutes. I saw I had five capsules left. Working quickly, I emptied all five into the tea and added the sugar. I stirred it with a spoon and quickly brought it into the living room.
"I hope I didn't make it too sweet," I said as I handed her the glass.

She smiled and took a tentative sip. "No, no its fine." We sat for a few moments more while she asked more questions. I noticed her questions getting slower and her speech becoming more slurred. She tried, unsuccessfully, to stifle a yawn and I smiled.
"I'm so sorry," she said. "I think its getting (yawn) later than I thought". She stood on her feet, and swayed unsteadily. She took a step toward the door and twisted her ankle in. She fell to the floor. Pushing herself upward, she glared at me with an angry look. "Wh--what did you do to me? Im so... sl-sleepy." She struggled to get to her feet and slumped over, breathing deeply and sleeping soundly.
Oh dear, I believe that Spangle had too much to drink. I never knew iced tea could be so...potent. I smiled evilly to myself. This was almost perfect. With Spangle unconscious on my living room floor, I could begin the second phase of my revenge.
I pulled the amulet from my jewelry box and slipped it over her drooping head. She mumbled something, but I wasn't sure what it was. I realized that I had an opportunity facing me that so many villains before me wanted, but I wasn't quite sure how to out it to my best advantage.
Deciding that my best interests lay in patience, I called a taxi company. Then I realized that I didn't know where Spangle lived. Sighing, I reached over to the young girl laying at my feet and touched her smooth, soft face. My fingers found the edge of her mask and I traced it delicately. Slowly I slipped it up over her face and discovered Trish Collins the supermodel, underneath.
Well, well--who would have suspected this? I said softly. So many men in Queen City and around the world had a fascination with this brown tressed beauty. She was known to be a fitness nut, and very private in her dealings with mere mortals such as myself.
I took advantage of the situation, of course. I found my 35mm camera and snapped off two rolls of film in short order. The pictures were of Spangle with and without her mask of course, and a few of Ms. Trish Collins in various stages of undress. I knew that two groups of people would be willing to pay highly for such photos. As for Spangle herself, once the amulet had worked its juju on her, she would be washed up as both a heroine and model. Shed practically be begging me to change her back, if she had any sense left. Which she wont, I thought with an evil sneer.
As I dressed Spangle back into her costume, I discovered a key in her tool belt. Trish had a rented suite in the Queen City Royale, an elite hotel for exclusive clientele. I still had a small room there, from the days before Christine had ruined me. It came in handy, especially on nights when I had been out clubbing or drinking (which I did too frequently after King took over my businesses.)
I re-dressed Spangle in her costume and slipped the mask into my pocket. I knew tying her hands together wouldn't make her weak, only angry so I left her unbound. In the closet, I found a ladies raincoat (left from a one night fling three weeks ago) and slipped it over Spangle's warm, still slumbering, shoulders. Then I hefted the sleeping heroine over my shoulders and into the garage, where I buckled her securely into the back seat of my Navigator.
Spangle stirred. I was astounded; the amount of medication I had given to her would have been enough to keep four men down and out for at least eight hours. Yet scarcely an hour had passed since she had slumped on the floor. I made my way cautiously through Queen City and arrived thirty minutes later at the Royale. I tipped the valet to park the car and half carried the semiconscious Spangle back to her suite. She staggered alongside me like a marathon runner; moving, yet completely unaware of her surroundings.
Her key opened the door easily, and I slipped into the rooms without any one seeing us. I guided the still sleepy heroine into the bedroom and whisked off her bikini briefs, bra top and little blue and gold cape. With a gentle nudge, she fell forward onto the pillow top mattress and turned on her side, getting comfortable. Her brown teddy bear looked on as I rifled her drawers, looking to see if there were other secrets to either Spangle or Trish Collins. I discovered her bank books, passwords for her accounts, some extra sexy lingerie in pink and black, and three more costumes just like the one I had taken from her. There were some other interesting devices as well--some of Spangle tools and some more ...personal items as well.
I took the bank information, a black teddy and two sexy pink bras and matching thongs. If my plan worked properly, then I would need some more appropriate attire for her. I put all of the borrowed items into a Sachs bag I found in her closet, along with her costume, then silently left the room.
I made my way down two floors unchallenged and entered my own private rooms. The apartment had a bedroom, but I had converted it into a darkroom. My bed was hidden in a couch in the living room. I hid Spangles clothes in the bathroom, then took my camera into the darkroom.
****
Trish stirred, shivering. She woke up, fighting the drugs she had received and suddenly came fully awake. How long had she been asleep? More important came the awareness that she was no longer in her Spangle costume.
He knows, she thought. The unbidden revelation chilled her even more than the cool of the early morning air. Trish knew that the man had drugged her and worse, compromised her identity. Oh my GOD! she suddenly thought. She could vaguely remember flashes of light through her drug induced sleep.
But to what purpose had he taken the photos? Blackmail? Something worse?
She had to know.
Feeling like her muscles were made of taffy, Trish stepped to her now no longer secret closet and found her costume. As she slipped into it, she remembered that Robin Wilson, the man shed been investigating, had a small suite three floors below hers. She wondered if he'd had the balls to stay so close by.

****
I worked solidly for a while, developing some excellent prints of Spangle in her various stages of dress and undress. The best pictures though, were of Spangle being unmasked as Trish Collins. They were flawless, perfect, and bound to make someone wealthy. But I was disappointed that I hadn't thought to snap photos of Spangle in action. It would make the proof that much more certain to collectors.
I stretched, realizing I had consumed an unknown amount of time leering over the photos of Spangle. My favorites were two--one of Spangle, with her breasts exposed and a thumb in her mouth. The other was one of Trish, Spangles bikini bottoms around her knees, legs wide apart. A money shot if there ever was one.
I was interrupted by a loud knocking on my door. Startled, I shoved the pictures back on the line, wiping my hands and heading for the door. Without looking, I threw it open wide.
And was slammed back into the couch by an angry, fierce Spangle. Somehow, she had overcome my sleeping drug and had found her way to my apartment. (It wasn't hard--she woke up back in her room, and she knew my name.) I tried to stand, but the ferocity of her attack was followed by a full body slam.
OK, how many men would LOVE to be slammed by a gorgeous heroine? Even though I had entertained fantasies like this, the reality was painful. The one consolation was seeing that the Janus amulet was still around her neck. Apparently, she hadn't noticed it. But as dazed as I was, I was having a hard time trying to calculate how long the bitch had actually WORN the damn thing.
I didn't have too much time to think as the gorgeous young thing grabbed my shirt in righteous fury and hoisted me into the air. My hands flailed for a moment, then I managed to catch hold of her bikini bottoms. It wasn't very noble, it certainly wasn't fair, but I yanked her briefs as hard as I could, slipping her red and white bikinis into her ass in a colossal wedgie.
Spangle gasped with shock, and slacked her grip. In return, my hands pulled tighter. As the back of her briefs rose higher and higher, the front pulled tightly against her pussy. Spangle grimaced in pain. Apparently, no one had ever gotten close enough to try this before. She dropped me to the floor and I fell, releasing my grip on her trunks.
Spangle stumbled around, trying to adjust her trunks, so I stuck a foot out, tripping her, She fell, ass over teakettle to the floor and I dropped on her hard, trying to grab her hands and pin them.
Of course, she was stronger, and managed a savage kick at my nuts. I rolled off, groaning in pain and Spangle rose over me, like some savage bird of prey. Her two fists were balled up, ready to deliver the finishing blow and I quivered like a small dog, expecting a savage beating. Then it happened. Spangle suddenly looked disoriented.
****
Trish stood poised, ready to finish off the creep who had uncovered her dual life and probably taken pictures of her in various stages of undress. She was furious, and her mind was racing not only with how to defeat this simple man, but also how to keep her two delicately balanced careers from falling into the toilet.
Then it hit her, a wave of nausea. Something was invading her mind. There was another voice inside her head, trying to overwhelm her. "Listen girl," the voice said. "Your time is up in this body. Let someone else have a turn."
"No!" yelled Spangle, both in her head and out loud. Wilson even reacted to that. He started to...smile?
"What did you do to me?" cried Spangle, smacking Wilson with an open fist. He merely laughed. The voice in Trish's head continued, and Trish felt her own answering voice getting fainter. Somehow or other, Wilson had managed a mind swap!
"Oh no Spangle, not a mind swap, a personality swap. You'll still be Trish, still be Spangle but you WONT be the heroine any more. No I think you'll be better off like I used to be. I was called Phantazy at one point. Now men will be able to fantasize about YOU instead."
****
Spangle sat down, gloved hands pressed tightly against her head. Get out, get OUT! she was shouting. I sat up and watched closely. The literature never recorded exactly WHAT happened when the amulet started the transformation so I wanted to be sure to do so.
Just as suddenly as she had begun the process, however, it was over. Her gloved hands dropped away from her head and a smile creased her face. Spangle still exuded femininity, but instead of the poised and confident heroine, she walked more with a swagger. Her face changed too, from I'm gonna barbecue your ass, to watch me dance--you want me, you know you do.
She sauntered to me and said, "I don't know what you did to me, but Ill make you pay for it. And then, so help me," she giggled. She put her hands on my shoulder and ran one of her perfectly sexy thighs up and down my leg. Oh man, this was almost too much. I ran my hands over her back and she daintily slapped one of my wrists. "Ah ah--naughty man. You have to PAY to touch the merchandise."
****
Trish seethed. Somewhere in her own mind, her personality was trapped, bound in a cage of mystical and mental energies. She knew WHO she was, and even remembered what she had been. But all that was gone now--overwhelmed by this bimbo who was making free use of her body. True, Spangle had always been an object of desire, but she had also been an object of purity. This..this new personality was going to make her a whore and she wasn't sure she could do anything about it. The imprisoned personality of Trish Conners was moving--still close to her body, but somewhere else...Phantazy now had the upper hand and control.
****
Spangle took my hand and led me over to the couch. With a forceful shove, she pushed me into a seat then straddled me. The wiggling of her ass on my legs forced a definite response. "That's it baby, go with the flow, release yourself into that new personality." I muttered. She swayed in and out, teasing me with those firm, round breasts. She took my hand and put it on her right tit.
"Feel that, baby?" she asked in a husky voice. "I know ya want to get up close and personal with it."

I massaged her breast, listening to her squeal and moan with pleasure. I moved my other hand to her throat, unclasping the gold star that held her cape around her neck. As the blue satin slipped to the floor, I pulled her close, kissing her neck and nuzzling her. Her voice dropped a register, becoming a low growl. I felt her squeeze me in a hug, tight and I almost stopped breathing. She was still super strong after all.
Spangle stood up, releasing me and I drew a deep breath. Her breathing was heavy; her breast rose and fell rhythmically. As my senses returned I saw her moving even more, bending and wiggling, her hands sliding the straps of her star spangled top slowly up and down. The areola of her left nipple peeked over the top of her bikini and I nearly choked. This was going even better than I thought. It was time to put phase two into operation.
"Stop that," I commanded. "You're not some slutty teenager. You're a full-blown whore aren't you?" Spangle opened her mouth, fear flooding her face. she looked like she was going to cry. I continued, "You think you're better than everyone don't you?
Then she did cry. "No...I'm not better than everyone. I'm nothing but a slut. I'm no good for anything." I raised my fist at her and she cringed. "Don't hurt Spangle, Ill be good."
"I dont think so," I said. "I think you need to be punished. Come here, Spangle." Her lips quivered in fear, but she came quiertly and stood. I bent her over my knee, pulled on her wet trunks and spanked her. She whimpered, more from the humiliation than the pain (She didnt feel pain with her powers)
"No-no more, please," she whimpered.
"Did I give you permission to speak?" I roared. Spangle cringed even more. I spanked her again. Then I said, "It would appear that you need MORE punishment." I yanked her cape from the floor and wrapped it tightly into her mouth, gagging her and tying it tightly behind her. Then I brought out the Sachs bag I had acquired from her room and pulled out the lingerie I had taken.
"Since you are such a slut then maybe you should dress like one. Go ahead--change right here in front of me." She shivered, defiance curling her lip. I raised my open fist and she cowered again. Then she stepped out of her bottoms. Moments later, she stood in front of me, wearing only her boots and mask. Her gag was still tight in her mouth. She looked at me for approval.
She was gorgeous. Her body was perfect, firm and tight. Her perfect breasts stood out; they were firm and well rounded. Down low, her pussy was wet from the excitement and the spanking. Her bush had been trimmed.
When I looked at her face, she looked at the floor in shame. I took her face in my hands and forced her to meet my eyes. "You're a bad girl Spangle. You forgot to dress like the slut you are. You need another lesson." Her eyes flew open wide with eagerness.
I pushed her to her knees. She looked up pleading with me, silent. I pulled the gag from her mouth and her tongue flew out, licking her lips. I could see the pleasure on her face--Ill be damned, the bitch was loving it! The amulet had made her a slave to Phantazys passions. I could see Trish's personality disappearing more and more as the personality of Phantazy exerted more and more control.
"You can speak Spangle," I told her.
"Please don't hurt me," she whimpered.

"Master," I prompted, on a whim.
"Please don't hurt me, master," said my new found slave.
I told her to remain in place, on her knees and I reached into her Sachs bag. I found a pink satin thong and pulled it out.
"Put this on," I said. She stood gracefully and slipped into the thong with ease. It rode high and tight on her hips, barely covering her womanhood. While she was dressing, I found three more things in the Sachs bag. These were items belonging to Spangle, not Trish.
Turning her around, I caught her right arm as it passed in front of me. With a snap I slipped the handcuff tightly over her right wrist. Instinctively, she brought her left arm into place to be cuffed easily. Trish made a token struggle to show me the cuffs were in place. (Hey, with her strength, Spangle could've broken those cuffs with ease.) I pulled her elbows back and added a second set of manacles to them. Her breasts eased forward even more and she groaned with the stress, but didn't fight me.
My hands trembled with anticipation as I ran them along her taut body. Spangle quivered too, what little bit of Trish remained was repelled by the thought of someone doing this to her against her will. I buried my face into her neck, excited by the scent she was exuding. My hands caressed her breasts, then slid down her firm belly to her new thong. As I slid my hands across the thong, I heard a soft moan escape from her lips.
As much as I wanted to fuck this formerly self-righteous bitch, I knew that as soon as I did, I couldn't. The emotional attachment would make it too hard to dispose of her. And I did have plans for Spangle. Still this was too good to NOT take advantage of.
I unzipped my pants, my frustrated Johnson saying hello to the hyper-sexy former heroine. Spangle looked at me, with doubt crossing her face.
"O.K. slut, you know what to do," I said waving my tool in her face.
She grimaced, but gamely took my cock in her mouth. She was inexperienced, but her tongue soon figured out what it was supposed to do. As she sucked and licked her passions grew more and more. I was fighting it, but couldn't stop. I exploded in her mouth just as she was finishing. My spunk flew down her throat and she gagged. Some of it flew out onto her mask and face, and I decided to leave it.
I reached out and my hands felt my cell phone. I dialed a private number, one I'd had as an investment broker,and soon reached Mr. Cafazo. "I have a package for you sir," I said. "It's something you've been looking for a long time. I believe the asking price is $1,000,000. And there's an added bonus. Do you remember Phantazy?" The sound of happy affirmation told me that I had done the right thing in calling so early in the morning.
I gave the address to Mr. Cafazo and looked back over at Spangle, softly writhing in the bond, with the semen still on her face. "Sorry Babe, but its business. I'm a small time operator and he's definitely big league. But Ill always have something to remind me of you. I held up a clean costume from her bag."
Cafazo and his men showed up within 30 minutes. He had a briefcase with $100,000 in it and the number for a Costa Rican bank where the rest of the money had been transferred. His men took the now subdued Spangle and slapped her across the face. Her head lolled and her breasts sagged. They strapped her to a refrigerator dolly and prepared to roll her out of the room. She looked at me once more before they wheeled her out. I leaned over and kissed her good-bye, retrieving the Janus Amulet once more. Spangle was gone and I was rich.
A week later, the furor over the disappearance of Trish Collins was over, and the press was speculating over the mystery of Spangle. It appeared that the heroine had gone as mysteriously as she had arrived. But in a sleazy dive owned by Giovanni Cafazo, a new dancer named Misstery began her nightly bump and grind, forgetting who she had ever been.
The End

Another Blast from my Past Roughly 2005 I think.

Description

The Janus Amulet

by Captain Zammo
Throughout history, enigmas have always arisen. Why for instance, did the Greeks win at Marathon against a vastly superior Persian force? What kept the Moslem invaders out of Vienna, preserving the Holy Roman Empire? What happened to Woodrow Wilson, a man of peace; that enabled him to wage war?
Not only in military history, but these questions rise in the history of politics and of peace as well. What prompted Mohandas Ghandi to forsake a promising law practice and become an aesetic monk? What drove King George to madness, and then back to sanity? And why would Henry VIII forsake a strong alliance with the Vatican and become like the heretic Martin Luther, whom hed condemned? I stopped my dictation, the little recorder stopping alongside with me. I turned my prize over slowly in my gloved hand. I knew better than to let it come into contact with my bare skin.
It was not large, but the exquisite craftsmanship of the Janus necklace made it a treasure worth possessing. Made of the finest silver, it was shaped in the image of Janus, the two faced Roman God of the Threshold. Janus faced both directions at one time. But my researching had indicated that it was so much more than that.
I crossed the room to the television set. The early morning news was starting and I caught the blurb. ,,,ting the grisly news, Christine King was found in a coma this morning, the apparent victim of a break-in. King was know to the citizens of Queen City for her financial acumen and generosity. It is still not known at this time who or why she was attacked.
I could answer that, I said to myself. Tracking the Janus amulet through the centuries had been difficult, but not impossible. I wasnt too surprised Giovanni Cafazo had given it to Christine. (Though at the time she went by the name Phantazy--shed been an exotic dancer.) The ex gangster had been a Wall Street genius before he turned to crime.
I hated Christine, she had ruined my budding brokerage. Wilson Investments had a smaller clientele, but a very elite one. The company had made money hand over fist for its clients and for me, Rob Wilson. That was before Christine showed up on the Street. With her pendulous breasts and strippers body she stole my clients from me in droves. Worse, she was successful at it. Her worst guesses generally scored her clients more money than my biggest successes. The ultimate insult had come when she bought me out, then forced me to the curb. I wasnt sure where she had come from, so I did my homework. Thats where I discovered so many changes from people. King, Cafazo, Gilberti, Romanoff, Wilson, Ghandi; they were all there. Something had happened and I found whispers, rumors and out and out lies regarding the Janus Amulet.
The best information I had on it was that it stole the personality of whoever wore it continuously for six hours, and replaced it with the personality of the previous wearer, In the light of Cafazo and King, it seemed to fit. And if that pattern held true, then I had trapped an exotic dancer, a submissive slave of Cafazos crime empire. Phantazy had been more than a dancer. Cafazo and his associates had utilized her services as a woman on more than one occasion. Additionally, at least three of his strip clubs were of the bondage variety, and Phantazy had performed at all of them.
That had changed when she became Christine again. But now she had gotten what she deserved.
My rhapsodizing was cut short when I heard the television announcer say, And Spangle was busy tonight, rounding up more members of the Cafazo gang. The screen showed a beautiful brunette confidently leading a chain of men. The chain was made of several bumpers, wrapped around the arms of the three gangsters. They tugged at the bumper trying to get free, but it was futile.
My mind zeroed in on the woman. She was built like a brick house--strong, well toned. And she knew it. Her outfit was a bikini that might have gotten her arrested on the beach here in Queen City. The top was all blue with a star motif, like the American Flag. Her bottom was almost a thong, but it managed to have a total of five stripes--red and white. She wore knee high red boots with a wide blue band around the top. Inside each of the bands were large white stars.
She wore elbow length red riding gloves, a tiny red cape and had a red mask covering her face, but accentuating her china blue eyes. I felt myself getting aroused, wondering what it would take to get inside her panties.
Not much, I laughed. Then I grew serious. I looked down at the amulet sitting on the velvet tray. Oh my God! I thought as an audacious thought grew inside my head. Oh my GOD! I knew that the only things that switched with the Janus amulet were the personalities. The person would retain all the physical attributes, the mental attributes, but their force of will, their mannerisms, their overall actions would change.
But could I pull it off?
Trish smiled for the cameras as she brought the gangsters to the FBI station. She exuded confidence and played the definitive heroine for the media. Not bad for girl who discovered her powers only three years ago, she thought.
She remembered the day she found the glowing red stone that had bestowed on her the ability to fly, bend steel and repel bullets. The stone was shiny and from the stars, no doubt. Trish had been in her sequined cheerleader outfit at the time and had flown in astonishment over the city. The Queen City Times had christened the new flying girl Spangle, and the name stuck.
She had worked on developing her powers for months and made a formal entry into the world two years ago. Shed been faced with guns, lightning beams, death rays, criminals and super villains. Shed survived them all and had made a name for herself among the criminal element. That name was Ms Bad News.
Recently, Trish had spent her attention on defeating the remains of the Giovanni Cafazo gang. So far, she had made a sizable dent in their operations and was unsurprised that Cafazo himself had put a price tag of ten million dollars on her head. She doubted that it would ever be collected.
Careful there Trish, she warned herself. Just because no one has found a weak spot yet, doesnt mean there ISNT one. She posed a few more times for the press photographers then flew off into the night.
Arriving at home, Trish slipped into a soft satiny nightgown and slid into her bed. Morning arrived far too early, and she rolled over, groaning. Fortunately, today was Friday and was not a shooting day. Trish Collins, super model, could grab another hour of sleep before hitting the exercise and diet regimen for the day.
After arising and showering, Trish nibbled on an oatmeal muffin and sipped her orange juice. She glanced at the paper, surprised that her nocturnal activities hadnt made the front page. But the headline dealt with the attack on Christine King. Intrigued, Trish read about the savage attack on the financier.
Expected to make a full recovery, she said. Too bad about the coma, I might have been able to use the information to help me find her attacker. Still, I might be able to compile a list of her enemies.
Trish sat on her exercise bike, her spandex tights snugly accentuating every curve on her trim form. As she pedaled, she studied an Internet listing of acquisitions that King Enterprises had made. These men and women might make an excellent starting point. she said. I think Ill pay a call on a few of them tonight.
My plans had to be flawless. In order for this to work, I had to get Spangle to wear the amulet for six hours straight. But how would I do it? For that matter, how would I FIND her? It wasnt as though super heroines were in the habit of ringing my doorbell every night. And besides, why would Spangle even THINK of someone like me?
The doorbell rang. My heart jumped from guilt, worrying that the police had connected me to the attack on Christine. I calmed myself, and slipped off the couch. Coming! I called as the bell rang a second time. I took a deep breath, collecting all the brain power I could muster. My mind was imagining all the horrible things that could be at the door as I turned the knob.
Opening the door and staring at the floor, I saw a pair of bright red boots on my doormat. I followed them up the pair of toned legs, lingered over the striped bikini bottom and the two blue spangled breasts, the short red cape riding on her shoulders, and finally on to the face. "Sp--Spangle!" I stammered. "This is an honor. Wont you come in?"
She smiled and crossed the threshold. I closed the door and ushered her into my living room. I offered her a seat, and she sat down, daintily crossing her legs. She seemed completely unaware of the sexual energy she was exuding.
Can I get you anything? I asked. She politely shook her head. Then she said, I came to ask you a few questions.
I slid into my chair, nervous. Sure enough, her questions were about the takeover of my business by Christine King. Yes I knew who she was, and yes I hated her. Who wouldnt? She had taken my goals and dreams and crushed them. No, I had no idea where she lived, though I certainly knew where her offices were located; theyd been mine, once. Where was I last night? I stayed home, watching television. I had seen both Survivor and CSI. And no, there were no witnesses, and I hadnt made any telephone calls to verify that.
It was dry in my house, and my throat felt parched. I stood to get a glass of iced tea. Would you like one? I offered a second time. I expected her to say no, but she said thank you. I went into the kitchen and found two relatively clean glasses. I filled them with iced tea and asked if she wanted anything.
Just a little sugar, please. she said. While digging in the cabinet for the sugar, I found the prescription sleeping capsules my doctor had given me when I lost my business. I remembered the time, and the potency of the drugs. Two had always been enough to put me to sleep in thirty minutes. I saw I had five capsules left. Working quickly, I emptied all five into the tea and added the sugar. I stirred it with a spoon and quickly brought it into the living room.
"I hope I didn't make it too sweet," I said as I handed her the glass.

She smiled and took a tentative sip. "No, no its fine." We sat for a few moments more while she asked more questions. I noticed her questions getting slower and her speech becoming more slurred. She tried, unsuccessfully, to stifle a yawn and I smiled.
"I'm so sorry," she said. "I think its getting (yawn) later than I thought". She stood on her feet, and swayed unsteadily. She took a step toward the door and twisted her ankle in. She fell to the floor. Pushing herself upward, she glared at me with an angry look. "Wh--what did you do to me? Im so... sl-sleepy." She struggled to get to her feet and slumped over, breathing deeply and sleeping soundly.
Oh dear, I believe that Spangle had too much to drink. I never knew iced tea could be so...potent. I smiled evilly to myself. This was almost perfect. With Spangle unconscious on my living room floor, I could begin the second phase of my revenge.
I pulled the amulet from my jewelry box and slipped it over her drooping head. She mumbled something, but I wasn't sure what it was. I realized that I had an opportunity facing me that so many villains before me wanted, but I wasn't quite sure how to out it to my best advantage.
Deciding that my best interests lay in patience, I called a taxi company. Then I realized that I didn't know where Spangle lived. Sighing, I reached over to the young girl laying at my feet and touched her smooth, soft face. My fingers found the edge of her mask and I traced it delicately. Slowly I slipped it up over her face and discovered Trish Collins the supermodel, underneath.
Well, well--who would have suspected this? I said softly. So many men in Queen City and around the world had a fascination with this brown tressed beauty. She was known to be a fitness nut, and very private in her dealings with mere mortals such as myself.
I took advantage of the situation, of course. I found my 35mm camera and snapped off two rolls of film in short order. The pictures were of Spangle with and without her mask of course, and a few of Ms. Trish Collins in various stages of undress. I knew that two groups of people would be willing to pay highly for such photos. As for Spangle herself, once the amulet had worked its juju on her, she would be washed up as both a heroine and model. Shed practically be begging me to change her back, if she had any sense left. Which she wont, I thought with an evil sneer.
As I dressed Spangle back into her costume, I discovered a key in her tool belt. Trish had a rented suite in the Queen City Royale, an elite hotel for exclusive clientele. I still had a small room there, from the days before Christine had ruined me. It came in handy, especially on nights when I had been out clubbing or drinking (which I did too frequently after King took over my businesses.)
I re-dressed Spangle in her costume and slipped the mask into my pocket. I knew tying her hands together wouldn't make her weak, only angry so I left her unbound. In the closet, I found a ladies raincoat (left from a one night fling three weeks ago) and slipped it over Spangle's warm, still slumbering, shoulders. Then I hefted the sleeping heroine over my shoulders and into the garage, where I buckled her securely into the back seat of my Navigator.
Spangle stirred. I was astounded; the amount of medication I had given to her would have been enough to keep four men down and out for at least eight hours. Yet scarcely an hour had passed since she had slumped on the floor. I made my way cautiously through Queen City and arrived thirty minutes later at the Royale. I tipped the valet to park the car and half carried the semiconscious Spangle back to her suite. She staggered alongside me like a marathon runner; moving, yet completely unaware of her surroundings.
Her key opened the door easily, and I slipped into the rooms without any one seeing us. I guided the still sleepy heroine into the bedroom and whisked off her bikini briefs, bra top and little blue and gold cape. With a gentle nudge, she fell forward onto the pillow top mattress and turned on her side, getting comfortable. Her brown teddy bear looked on as I rifled her drawers, looking to see if there were other secrets to either Spangle or Trish Collins. I discovered her bank books, passwords for her accounts, some extra sexy lingerie in pink and black, and three more costumes just like the one I had taken from her. There were some other interesting devices as well--some of Spangle tools and some more ...personal items as well.
I took the bank information, a black teddy and two sexy pink bras and matching thongs. If my plan worked properly, then I would need some more appropriate attire for her. I put all of the borrowed items into a Sachs bag I found in her closet, along with her costume, then silently left the room.
I made my way down two floors unchallenged and entered my own private rooms. The apartment had a bedroom, but I had converted it into a darkroom. My bed was hidden in a couch in the living room. I hid Spangles clothes in the bathroom, then took my camera into the darkroom.
****
Trish stirred, shivering. She woke up, fighting the drugs she had received and suddenly came fully awake. How long had she been asleep? More important came the awareness that she was no longer in her Spangle costume.
He knows, she thought. The unbidden revelation chilled her even more than the cool of the early morning air. Trish knew that the man had drugged her and worse, compromised her identity. Oh my GOD! she suddenly thought. She could vaguely remember flashes of light through her drug induced sleep.
But to what purpose had he taken the photos? Blackmail? Something worse?
She had to know.
Feeling like her muscles were made of taffy, Trish stepped to her now no longer secret closet and found her costume. As she slipped into it, she remembered that Robin Wilson, the man shed been investigating, had a small suite three floors below hers. She wondered if he'd had the balls to stay so close by.

****
I worked solidly for a while, developing some excellent prints of Spangle in her various stages of dress and undress. The best pictures though, were of Spangle being unmasked as Trish Collins. They were flawless, perfect, and bound to make someone wealthy. But I was disappointed that I hadn't thought to snap photos of Spangle in action. It would make the proof that much more certain to collectors.
I stretched, realizing I had consumed an unknown amount of time leering over the photos of Spangle. My favorites were two--one of Spangle, with her breasts exposed and a thumb in her mouth. The other was one of Trish, Spangles bikini bottoms around her knees, legs wide apart. A money shot if there ever was one.
I was interrupted by a loud knocking on my door. Startled, I shoved the pictures back on the line, wiping my hands and heading for the door. Without looking, I threw it open wide.
And was slammed back into the couch by an angry, fierce Spangle. Somehow, she had overcome my sleeping drug and had found her way to my apartment. (It wasn't hard--she woke up back in her room, and she knew my name.) I tried to stand, but the ferocity of her attack was followed by a full body slam.
OK, how many men would LOVE to be slammed by a gorgeous heroine? Even though I had entertained fantasies like this, the reality was painful. The one consolation was seeing that the Janus amulet was still around her neck. Apparently, she hadn't noticed it. But as dazed as I was, I was having a hard time trying to calculate how long the bitch had actually WORN the damn thing.
I didn't have too much time to think as the gorgeous young thing grabbed my shirt in righteous fury and hoisted me into the air. My hands flailed for a moment, then I managed to catch hold of her bikini bottoms. It wasn't very noble, it certainly wasn't fair, but I yanked her briefs as hard as I could, slipping her red and white bikinis into her ass in a colossal wedgie.
Spangle gasped with shock, and slacked her grip. In return, my hands pulled tighter. As the back of her briefs rose higher and higher, the front pulled tightly against her pussy. Spangle grimaced in pain. Apparently, no one had ever gotten close enough to try this before. She dropped me to the floor and I fell, releasing my grip on her trunks.
Spangle stumbled around, trying to adjust her trunks, so I stuck a foot out, tripping her, She fell, ass over teakettle to the floor and I dropped on her hard, trying to grab her hands and pin them.
Of course, she was stronger, and managed a savage kick at my nuts. I rolled off, groaning in pain and Spangle rose over me, like some savage bird of prey. Her two fists were balled up, ready to deliver the finishing blow and I quivered like a small dog, expecting a savage beating. Then it happened. Spangle suddenly looked disoriented.
****
Trish stood poised, ready to finish off the creep who had uncovered her dual life and probably taken pictures of her in various stages of undress. She was furious, and her mind was racing not only with how to defeat this simple man, but also how to keep her two delicately balanced careers from falling into the toilet.
Then it hit her, a wave of nausea. Something was invading her mind. There was another voice inside her head, trying to overwhelm her. "Listen girl," the voice said. "Your time is up in this body. Let someone else have a turn."
"No!" yelled Spangle, both in her head and out loud. Wilson even reacted to that. He started to...smile?
"What did you do to me?" cried Spangle, smacking Wilson with an open fist. He merely laughed. The voice in Trish's head continued, and Trish felt her own answering voice getting fainter. Somehow or other, Wilson had managed a mind swap!
"Oh no Spangle, not a mind swap, a personality swap. You'll still be Trish, still be Spangle but you WONT be the heroine any more. No I think you'll be better off like I used to be. I was called Phantazy at one point. Now men will be able to fantasize about YOU instead."
****
Spangle sat down, gloved hands pressed tightly against her head. Get out, get OUT! she was shouting. I sat up and watched closely. The literature never recorded exactly WHAT happened when the amulet started the transformation so I wanted to be sure to do so.
Just as suddenly as she had begun the process, however, it was over. Her gloved hands dropped away from her head and a smile creased her face. Spangle still exuded femininity, but instead of the poised and confident heroine, she walked more with a swagger. Her face changed too, from I'm gonna barbecue your ass, to watch me dance--you want me, you know you do.
She sauntered to me and said, "I don't know what you did to me, but Ill make you pay for it. And then, so help me," she giggled. She put her hands on my shoulder and ran one of her perfectly sexy thighs up and down my leg. Oh man, this was almost too much. I ran my hands over her back and she daintily slapped one of my wrists. "Ah ah--naughty man. You have to PAY to touch the merchandise."
****
Trish seethed. Somewhere in her own mind, her personality was trapped, bound in a cage of mystical and mental energies. She knew WHO she was, and even remembered what she had been. But all that was gone now--overwhelmed by this bimbo who was making free use of her body. True, Spangle had always been an object of desire, but she had also been an object of purity. This..this new personality was going to make her a whore and she wasn't sure she could do anything about it. The imprisoned personality of Trish Conners was moving--still close to her body, but somewhere else...Phantazy now had the upper hand and control.
****
Spangle took my hand and led me over to the couch. With a forceful shove, she pushed me into a seat then straddled me. The wiggling of her ass on my legs forced a definite response. "That's it baby, go with the flow, release yourself into that new personality." I muttered. She swayed in and out, teasing me with those firm, round breasts. She took my hand and put it on her right tit.
"Feel that, baby?" she asked in a husky voice. "I know ya want to get up close and personal with it."

I massaged her breast, listening to her squeal and moan with pleasure. I moved my other hand to her throat, unclasping the gold star that held her cape around her neck. As the blue satin slipped to the floor, I pulled her close, kissing her neck and nuzzling her. Her voice dropped a register, becoming a low growl. I felt her squeeze me in a hug, tight and I almost stopped breathing. She was still super strong after all.
Spangle stood up, releasing me and I drew a deep breath. Her breathing was heavy; her breast rose and fell rhythmically. As my senses returned I saw her moving even more, bending and wiggling, her hands sliding the straps of her star spangled top slowly up and down. The areola of her left nipple peeked over the top of her bikini and I nearly choked. This was going even better than I thought. It was time to put phase two into operation.
"Stop that," I commanded. "You're not some slutty teenager. You're a full-blown whore aren't you?" Spangle opened her mouth, fear flooding her face. she looked like she was going to cry. I continued, "You think you're better than everyone don't you?
Then she did cry. "No...I'm not better than everyone. I'm nothing but a slut. I'm no good for anything." I raised my fist at her and she cringed. "Don't hurt Spangle, Ill be good."
"I dont think so," I said. "I think you need to be punished. Come here, Spangle." Her lips quivered in fear, but she came quiertly and stood. I bent her over my knee, pulled on her wet trunks and spanked her. She whimpered, more from the humiliation than the pain (She didnt feel pain with her powers)
"No-no more, please," she whimpered.
"Did I give you permission to speak?" I roared. Spangle cringed even more. I spanked her again. Then I said, "It would appear that you need MORE punishment." I yanked her cape from the floor and wrapped it tightly into her mouth, gagging her and tying it tightly behind her. Then I brought out the Sachs bag I had acquired from her room and pulled out the lingerie I had taken.
"Since you are such a slut then maybe you should dress like one. Go ahead--change right here in front of me." She shivered, defiance curling her lip. I raised my open fist and she cowered again. Then she stepped out of her bottoms. Moments later, she stood in front of me, wearing only her boots and mask. Her gag was still tight in her mouth. She looked at me for approval.
She was gorgeous. Her body was perfect, firm and tight. Her perfect breasts stood out; they were firm and well rounded. Down low, her pussy was wet from the excitement and the spanking. Her bush had been trimmed.
When I looked at her face, she looked at the floor in shame. I took her face in my hands and forced her to meet my eyes. "You're a bad girl Spangle. You forgot to dress like the slut you are. You need another lesson." Her eyes flew open wide with eagerness.
I pushed her to her knees. She looked up pleading with me, silent. I pulled the gag from her mouth and her tongue flew out, licking her lips. I could see the pleasure on her face--Ill be damned, the bitch was loving it! The amulet had made her a slave to Phantazys passions. I could see Trish's personality disappearing more and more as the personality of Phantazy exerted more and more control.
"You can speak Spangle," I told her.
"Please don't hurt me," she whimpered.

"Master," I prompted, on a whim.
"Please don't hurt me, master," said my new found slave.
I told her to remain in place, on her knees and I reached into her Sachs bag. I found a pink satin thong and pulled it out.
"Put this on," I said. She stood gracefully and slipped into the thong with ease. It rode high and tight on her hips, barely covering her womanhood. While she was dressing, I found three more things in the Sachs bag. These were items belonging to Spangle, not Trish.
Turning her around, I caught her right arm as it passed in front of me. With a snap I slipped the handcuff tightly over her right wrist. Instinctively, she brought her left arm into place to be cuffed easily. Trish made a token struggle to show me the cuffs were in place. (Hey, with her strength, Spangle could've broken those cuffs with ease.) I pulled her elbows back and added a second set of manacles to them. Her breasts eased forward even more and she groaned with the stress, but didn't fight me.
My hands trembled with anticipation as I ran them along her taut body. Spangle quivered too, what little bit of Trish remained was repelled by the thought of someone doing this to her against her will. I buried my face into her neck, excited by the scent she was exuding. My hands caressed her breasts, then slid down her firm belly to her new thong. As I slid my hands across the thong, I heard a soft moan escape from her lips.
As much as I wanted to fuck this formerly self-righteous bitch, I knew that as soon as I did, I couldn't. The emotional attachment would make it too hard to dispose of her. And I did have plans for Spangle. Still this was too good to NOT take advantage of.
I unzipped my pants, my frustrated Johnson saying hello to the hyper-sexy former heroine. Spangle looked at me, with doubt crossing her face.
"O.K. slut, you know what to do," I said waving my tool in her face.
She grimaced, but gamely took my cock in her mouth. She was inexperienced, but her tongue soon figured out what it was supposed to do. As she sucked and licked her passions grew more and more. I was fighting it, but couldn't stop. I exploded in her mouth just as she was finishing. My spunk flew down her throat and she gagged. Some of it flew out onto her mask and face, and I decided to leave it.
I reached out and my hands felt my cell phone. I dialed a private number, one I'd had as an investment broker,and soon reached Mr. Cafazo. "I have a package for you sir," I said. "It's something you've been looking for a long time. I believe the asking price is $1,000,000. And there's an added bonus. Do you remember Phantazy?" The sound of happy affirmation told me that I had done the right thing in calling so early in the morning.
I gave the address to Mr. Cafazo and looked back over at Spangle, softly writhing in the bond, with the semen still on her face. "Sorry Babe, but its business. I'm a small time operator and he's definitely big league. But Ill always have something to remind me of you. I held up a clean costume from her bag."
Cafazo and his men showed up within 30 minutes. He had a briefcase with $100,000 in it and the number for a Costa Rican bank where the rest of the money had been transferred. His men took the now subdued Spangle and slapped her across the face. Her head lolled and her breasts sagged. They strapped her to a refrigerator dolly and prepared to roll her out of the room. She looked at me once more before they wheeled her out. I leaned over and kissed her good-bye, retrieving the Janus Amulet once more. Spangle was gone and I was rich.
A week later, the furor over the disappearance of Trish Collins was over, and the press was speculating over the mystery of Spangle. It appeared that the heroine had gone as mysteriously as she had arrived. But in a sleazy dive owned by Giovanni Cafazo, a new dancer named Misstery began her nightly bump and grind, forgetting who she had ever been.
The End

Another Blast from my Past Roughly 2005 I think.