Who Killed Tony Razor?

— Oh… oops, looks like I stained my cute little dress — I drawled, hugging the pole with one arm and tilting my head a bit to take a look at the small spot just below my waistline. I shrugged and shivered, pressing a little closer to the pole. 'Fuck, did I just say that out loud? Tony, focus, for fuck’s sake! You’re not some chick on a shopping spree, you’re here to squeeze a confession out of Bobby Falcone.'

Outside, a ringing laugh slipped out, as if I was mocking myself on purpose, though in truth it really did look funny to me. But if not for this fucked-up body, half a year ago I wouldn’t have moved a single muscle in my face. And now, I cocked my hip like I was posing for an invisible camera, sliding my palm down the dress so slow it looked more like a damn show than checking the fabric, and I cursed myself again for letting it slip out loud.

— What a little… — I said the first thing that came to mind — sweet doll I am, so-o-o careful with my clothes.

It came out playful, drawn out, like I was really some empty-headed chick, not the right hand of Marco Filoni — Tony, goddamn Razor!

Finally, I saw the car pulling up. A black Cadillac Escalade, shining like it just rolled out of the wash. The wheels hissed slowly on the empty street as it stopped and parked. I straightened up fast, arched my back, deliberately showing off the red rag of a dress cut open all the way down to the waist, stuffed tight with my brand-new ass.

'Easy now, Tony. This ain’t no date, so keep those fucking girly tricks under control. This is Bobby Falcone. First on the list. If anyone could have put a hit on you — it’s him. And if it’s not… well, you’ll still break him.'

I bit my lip and let out a light giggle, like this whole meeting was nothing more than some high school party flirt. I even traced the asphalt with the tip of my shoe like I was drawing hearts, even though behind my back, cold steel pressed against my hand — heavy enough that with these weak little arms of mine, it felt damn hard to hold.

The Escalade’s door opened, and Bobby Falcone himself stepped out. Asphalt-gray jacket, chain on his neck, heavy gaze — everything about him screamed “old wolf.” Behind him came his two loyal dogs, the Dillon brothers, Matt and Dylan, both in matching leather jackets, with faces carved out of brick.

— Oh my, so many of you boys — I sang out, lifting my hip and stepping in a way that made the skirt of my red rag twitch, barely covering my thighs. — A whole harem for one… little girl.

I ran my finger along my lips and burst out laughing, the sound so loud and empty that even the stray dogs on the street would’ve probably flinched.

'Shit, Tony, you’re good! Never thought I’d ever use this crap and not feel like dying. Ha! Fuck you all! Maybe I can’t stop talking and acting like a dumb cunt, but I’ll still put a bullet in the bastard who made me fall asleep every night with tits that won’t even let me roll onto my side!' And right then, a smile spread across my face as I pictured those three ending up in my place. 'Tony, no, don’t blow your cover, it’s too early!' I snorted, covering my mouth with my palm like some little girl caught in a dirty thought. My fingers stretched out, I swayed my shoulder lazily, moving closer and closer to them, still holding what looked like a gun — though it wasn’t one.

— What a mess — muttered Matt, the one with the square jaw. — Boss, I don’t like this chick.

— Relax, Matt — Bobby said quietly, without even turning his head. His voice was raspy, calm, like he was talking with a cigar clamped between his teeth. — She’s just a girl. Looks like she’s high on some shit.

I didn’t hear what those idiots were mumbling, because at that very moment I was already singing out, having gotten close enough that I definitely wouldn’t miss:

— Oh, Booobby-y-y! — I laughed out loud, tossing my head back so my dark ponytails swung. — Long time no see! Hee-hee! Do you recognize me?

Bobby stopped, staring at me. His face didn’t twitch, but there was a flicker of slight confusion in his eyes. Dylan, the older brother, frowned and stepped forward, like he wanted to shield the boss.

— Know you? — Bobby squinted, his gaze lingering on my face, then sliding down my neck, and finally on the cut of my dress. He smirked, crooked, like a predator. — No, but I’ll find out now.

I gave a theatrical gasp, pressing my hand to my breasts, and the neckline spread just a little wider, showing more than I’d planned. Though… no, that was exactly what I wanted.

— Tsk-tsk-tsk, Mister Falcone — I drawled, bouncing a little in place and swaying my hips so the short hem jerked up, flashing the white socks with red stripes. — Damn, you were staring at my girls? — I meowed sadly, pulling a pout — And here I thought you’d like the dress wa-a-ay more. I tried so hard, dressed up just for you, remembering how much you love young cheerleaders and the color red.

Bobby snorted, exhaled through his nose, and, adjusting the ring on his finger, looked me over again.

— You’ve got a sharp tongue, doll. But I don’t remember us ever meeting. — He squinted, stepping forward, and I felt his gaze sliding down my thighs.

— Who the hell are you, doll? — he said it so calmly that even his dogs froze. — Too much talking, too little meaning.

I burst out laughing, pressing a finger to my lips, pretending to think.

— Hee-hee! Let’s keep it a little secret for now, okay? — I leaned forward, my breasts nearly spilling out, while both my hands behind my back gripped the steel tight. — I’ll show you everything right now-ow-ow.

I gave my ass a playful wiggle and then, without warning, pulled out that damn thing I’d stolen from that psycho’s lab when I escaped. My thin finger tapped the trigger and a white beam shot into one of Bobby’s mutts — Dylan, who, just like the other two, was already reaching for his gun. Then I swung the beam onto Bobby, and just as I was about to let go, I aimed the device at him — but he froze halfway, hearing a voice right beside him:

— ¡¿Qué carajo me hiciste, cabrona?! (What the fuck did you do to me, bitch?!)

He turned his head left and saw a tanned Latina with long black hair spilling out from under a leather jacket, her sharp face bearing a strange resemblance to Dylan’s. Her body was still in his suit, but her breasts pushed against the fabric so hard the buttons were about to pop. Her eyes went wide.

— Oh my goooood! My bo-o-ody! My ti-i-its are so huuuge! Hee-hee!

Then, another voice came from the other side, and Bobby snapped his head that way.

Standing there was a ridiculous cartoonish blonde bimbo, lips swollen like someone had just pumped a gallon of silicone into them, her tits bulging against the jacket so much the fabric groaned. She batted her lashes, pouted her lips, and twisted her shoulders like she was showing off her new curves to the whole world.

— Hee-hee-hee! Booobby-y-y! — she squeaked, arching her back so much the jacket nearly tore. — Look at me-e-e! I’ve got such big ti-i-its! Hee-hee! I’m such a sexy girl now, right?

I burst out laughing, bending forward so my ponytails hung down the sides of my face. Forgetting Bobby still had a gun, I started hopping around them, swinging my arms back and forth like a schoolgirl at a disco, my skirt flying up with every move, ponytails bouncing playfully against my shoulders.

— Hee-hee-hee! — I spun on my toes and poked a finger at Bobby. — Oh, loooook! Now you’ve got yourself a whole little harem! Dylan turned into a hot Latina, Matt’s a big titty bimbo! Ha-ha-ha! You’re a real little Don Juan now!

'Fuck, Tony, what the hell are you doing? Bobby’s got the gun, and you’re bouncing in front of him like some trashy strip-club doll! He’ll pull the trigger — and that’s it, game over. But… fuck, look at his eyes: he’s really freaked out. He doesn’t get what’s happening. And it is funny as hell. Even though half a year ago I wasn’t laughing at all, so I better push it now.'

Bobby turned the gun on me, but his hand was shaking, and I caught it. So much for the “old wolf.”

The Latina-Dylan stepped forward, her breasts straining against the leather jacket, and she screamed:

— ¡Maldita bruja! ¡Esto no puede estar pasando! ¡Bobby, dispárale ya! (Fucking witch! This can’t be happening! Bobby, shoot him right now!)

And the Bimbo-Matt fluttered her lashes, turned to Bobby, and pressing her hands to her tits, whined in that sharp, dumb little voice of hers:

— Ooooh, bossy, look at me? I’m such a sexy kitty now! Looook! — she tugged the jacket down, and half of her new boobs almost spilled out. — Hee-hee-hee! Oops.

Bobby barked out suddenly, his voice cutting through the screams of his new “dolls”:

— SHUT THE FUCK UP! — He stepped closer to me, raising the gun, but I darted back, flipped over, and dropped to one knee, aiming the device right at him.

— Tsk-tsk-tsk, naughty boy! — I said from behind his back. My voice rang out like I was playing hide and seek, but inside I was already measuring the distance, calculating how to break his confession out of him.

— Come on now, drop your little toy — I drawled, like I was coaxing a spoiled boy to share his candy. I pressed the device tighter to the back of his head, feeling him freeze, though his finger on the trigger was still twitching.

— You… you don’t even understand who you’re messing with — he rasped, but the barrel of his gun slowly began to sink.

I burst out laughing, flicking my ponytails and cocking my hip like I was posing for a camera.

— Ooooh, of course I understand, daddy! — I sang, licking my lips and poking the barrel against his head. — I’m messing with the big, big scary wolfie… only now the wolfie’s got two bitches in heels instead of bodyguards. Hee-hee-hee!

I stepped around him sharply and stopped right in front of his face. His gun was already pointing at the ground, though his fingers were still white from tension. I pressed the device against his chest, the fabric of his jacket sizzling slightly from the heat.

— Well? — I swayed my hips, brushing his hand with my breasts. — Talk, sweet Bobby. Who ordered the hit on Tony Razor, unless you wanna end up the big mommy for your little dolls?

Bobby froze. His eyes jerked to me, narrowed, then widened so much I could see the realization flicker in them. He sucked in a harsh breath, like only now he finally pieced the picture together.

— …Tony?.. — his voice cracked, filled with disbelief and shock. Even his grip on the gun loosened, his hand shaking. — Shit… no fucking way…

I burst out laughing, still poking him with the device and covering my mouth with my palm, like I’d just been caught sneaking away from prom.

— Hee-hee-hee! — I sang, arching my back so my breasts pressed against his elbow. 'Didn’t think he’d catch on this fast,' flickered through my head, and then the thought slipped out as words:

— Ooooh, so you actually are a smart boy after all.

Bobby sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes darting up to mine, then down again, to where the hem of my dress flicked in the wind, then back up. He stepped closer, so close I could feel his breath on my neck.

— Tony?.. — he rasped. — Is it… goddamn it, is it really you?..

I burst out laughing and pressed a finger to his lips, pushing lightly as if to shut him up, then winked at the Latina and the bimbo, telling them to stay right where they were, like good little girls, or else their boss would get something even worse.

— Shhh… — I sang, cocking my hip and swaying it so the skirt fluttered playfully. — That’s right, daddy… you gue-e-essed! Only now I’m not Razor, I’m your liiittle kitten… hee-hee-hee! — I fell silent, like I’d just said the wrong thing, then added in a darker, more serious tone — Or better yet, your little nightmare!

'Come on, old wolf, show me your fangs. Or admit you’re the one who put the hit on me.'

— Jesus… — Bobby swallowed, his fingers trembling, but the gun was already lowered. — Tony, I swear to God, I didn’t put a hit on you! I’ve got my own business. Shit, you know me — if I wanted Razor gone, I’d do it myself, clean.

I stepped closer, pressing my breasts against him so that his hand with the gun ended up wedged right between them. I tilted my head, painting my face with sweet stupidity, and sang:

— Ooooh, Bobby, you almost made me tear up… such an honor, that for me you’d, mmm… do the job yourself? Hee-hee-hee! — I licked my lips and jabbed the device into his chest. — But if it wasn’t you, my little wolfie, then who was it?

'Push him, Tony. He’s already cracking. Either he gives up the one who sold you out, or he starts dodging. And if he dodges — it means he knows more than he’s saying.'

Bobby exhaled and lifted his gaze at me, as if checking whether I’d finally gone completely insane. But I caught the flicker of recognition in his face: yeah, it was still Razor.

— There’s only one who could’ve done it — he ground out through his teeth. — Ricardo Moreno. That prick from Miami. He’s got ties with pharma guys, been cooking something up with some psycho scientist for a year now.

I burst out laughing, so loud and genuine it even surprised me for a second.

— Ooooh, Ricky Moreno! Ah, you sweet latino-boy, always loved playing dirty, huh? — I spun on my sneakers, the skirt flying up so high even Bobby had to glance away, and I turned back to him, pressing my tits into him again. — Well, thank you, daddy. That’s already a lead.

I lowered the device just a little, showing him I might put it away altogether. Bobby instantly latched onto that hope and blurted out:

— Wait, Tony. What about them? — he flicked his eyes at his new “dolls.” — Can you change them back?

I burst out laughing again, covering my little mouth with my palm and swaying my hips.

— Oopsie! Change them back? Ooooh, Bobby, if I knew how this little toy worked, do you really think I’d be walking around with these ti-i-its every day? — I poked a finger at my own cleavage, my breasts bouncing. — I’d have turned back into Razor a long time ago, your old buddy… but, too ba-a-ad! — I bent down sharply, my ponytails falling over his jacket. — Or… maybe not “too bad,” hee-hee-hee!

'God, it’s like I’m confessing to myself: yeah, I like this body. Yeah, fuck it, I do! I like watching men lose their words over my tits. But shit, if anyone finds out the truth — I’m dead. So keep your mouth shut, Bobby.'

I booped his nose like we were lovers fooling around at a high school party, and whispered with a sing-song giggle:

— Don’t tell aaaaanyone that my little pussy is your old Razor, got it? If word gets out — I’ll be the first to turn you into a beauty with tits down to your knees.

— Shit… — Bobby stared at me, mouth half-open like he had a whole speech ready, but only said: — Got it.

I arched my back suddenly, threw my head back, and laughed so hard that the Bimbo-Matt actually squealed with delight, clapping her hands against her new curves:

— Hee-hee-hee! Bossy, you’re so sweet! So tough!

And Dylan-the-Latina, breaking into hysteria, screamed through her teeth:

— ¡Maldita sea! ¡No quiero estas tetas, Bobby! ¡Haz que esto termine! (Goddamn it! I don’t want these tits, Bobby! Make it stop!)

I turned to them like they were children, spreading my arms in a sing-song voice:

— Ooooh, girls, don’t whiiiine! They look sooo good on you! Such ti-i-its! Such little booties! Now you’re real sexy-sexy slutty girls, hee-hee-hee! You’ll love it.

Then I pressed against Bobby again, whispering right into his ear:

— They’ll love it for sure… mmm… and so will you, sweetie. Honestly, I don’t even wanna go back to being Razor anymore. Because now Razor is su-u-uch a little sexy nightmare.

'Yeah, Tony. You said it out loud. Shit, you’re actually starting to enjoy this crap. And half a year ago all you dreamed about was erasing every cell of this “doll” body, or at least talking and acting like a man again. But… look at them. Look what happened to them. This is power. With this power, I can do so much!'

I smiled at Bobby and, pressing my tits against him, whispered:

— Remember this: if you wanna live — stay quiet. I’ll find Ricardo Moreno myself… and then we’ll see who ends up the last bitch in this game.

I poked his chest with my finger and burst into a ringing laugh, springing back, spinning on my heels while my ponytails whipped through the air.