0 comments/ 4460 views/ 1 favorites The Re-Purposing of Alouette LeGran By: DarkLordPriapus I arrived at the handsome estate on a rather messy and dreary evening in the late of fall. The sky was full of bloated, dark grey clouds that were ready to burst upon the Earth below at any second. Already the slow leak of drizzel had filled the air with the tossing and twirling of small, watery spouts that landed like gossamer upon the limousine windows and then turned instantly into streaks of rain water that drew kinetic designs upon the glass and then just as instantly disappeared. I didn't much like the weather. I didn't enjoy the inconvenience of having to adjust to the will of mother nature whenever she got a little upset at the local gentry and decided to wash things clean. Certainly she can do that on her own time, I bristled to myself internally. "How much longer, Farnsworth?" I queried the driver. "We've been at this trip for four hours now.... certainly the manor will be near the front gates." "It's just a drive up the hill here sir, I believe...." Farnsworth responded while peering into the rear view mirror to acknowledge myself seated in the rear of the car. "You believe... you believe.... " I huffed. The long ride to the estate had been pleasant enough, my champagne was chilled and beside me in the decanter, the reading lamps from the interior ceiling had allowed me to finish the financial pages, and the small crackers that held my caviar had been nibbled away at and completed almost half an hour ago. I found myself requiring something more substantial after such a long trip, some type of meat and potatoes perhaps. Some wheat bread and steamed veggies. My future host, a man called the Swede by those who knew his work, had promised hearty dinners and fine lodging during my stay at his hidden away mansion and estate. I longed to see the goods and services he had bragged of providing, but feeling a bit peckish and irritated at the coming inclement weather, I found myself dismissing the coming meetings between my self and the Swede until the morn, when I would be well rested and fed.... as I had no doubt I would indeed be after a night in the hidden mansion. Farnsworth drove the limo up a rather steep climb which changed the direction of the drizzling rain as it hit the surrounding auto glass and turned the "lightning flash" like designs on the water speckled windows into bowed curves that sought out fresh direction with newly acquired rain drop pellets. In a moment the mansion appeared beside us, dark and foreboding in the dreary calm before the storm. Farnsworth stopped before the front entrance which was graced with over a dozen bone colored steps leading up into the covered doorway which sported expensive oil lamps that flickered with dancing golden flames. I peered through the rain drop covered window of my passenger door at the edifice before me. I felt a bit of dread at what seemed to be a rather large and towering mansion made of black brick or stone. Farnsworth craned his neck to see out of the passenger door window opposite his own position and shook his head slowly. "Bit of a 'haunted house', wouldn't you say so, sir?" He asked. Not taking my eyes off of the immense structure, I nodded my agreement. "Black granite composite, it would appear. Who builds a mansion from granite?" I wondered aloud. "Sir, I am a bit chilled at the site of this....." Farnsworth commented with a hushed and worried tone. "Nonsense, Farnsworth!" I assured him. "The Swede is a cultured and proper gentleman of breeding and letters. We've nothing to worry ourselves about. After all, I am here for business. Business is what we shall do." I affirmed, though I had to admit to myself that the mansion in this oncoming storm front smacked of evil. Evil is not something I usually concern myself with, and having to consider it suddenly and obtrusively, added another bee under my already annoyed bonnet. "Come along, Farnsworth!" I insisted. "Let's get ourselves inside before the sky opens up and washes us away!" "Oh, yes sir. Of course, sir." Farnsworth replied and spun in his seat to flip open his door and make his way in the drizzly breeze toward the trunk of the limo. I watched the front of the house as he secured an umbrella from the trunk, and I couldn't quite get myself to divest of some encroaching uneasiness that was working its way up my spine. "Come along, sir! Come along, sir!" Farnsworth insisted as he appeared outside of my rear passenger door. I pulled my cloak around my body and scooted toward the door as he popped it open to the rush and swirl of the coming downpour. With his arm around me, and holding the umbrella above us, Farnsworth lead us up the steps and to the front entrance doors. A shadow appeared behind the frosted glass of the doors as we approached and one of the the double doors swung open as we took our advantage and scurried inward. A rather thin and balding man with a long nose and protruding Adam's apple had opened the door for us and now greeted us in the foyer of the mansion. He wore a butler outfit much as Farnsworth would wear while puttering around my own estate, and stood offering to take our coats with an opened hand gesture. "Good evening, sirs!" He began, as we "de-cloaked" and handed him our attire. "I am Perrin, Mr. Swede's personal assistant. I'll be serving you this evening as you make yourselves comfortable in our home." 'Heavens, Perrin!" I proclaimed. "Is the weather here always so contrary?" "This time of year, sir, it can be quite unpredictable." He replied with a studied and practice manner. "I am, of course, Xander Chanter-Prime; as you no doubt know.... and this is my personal assistant, Mr. Harcourt Farnsworth." I stated in the requisite announcement of arrival. "Charmed, I am sure." Perrin replied with a sly smile. Farnsworth gave a bit of a salute and stated. "As am I, sir." "Now," I began as I smoothed my ruffled suit jacket. "Shall we be meeting the Swede this evening, or do festivities begin on the morn?" "I do believe, Mr. Chanter-Prime, that the Swede expects you for brandy and cigars in the reading room before business matters begin. Mr. Farnsworth will, of course, be escorted to quarters arranged for him during this visit." "Excellent! Excellent!" I said nodding my agreement. "I could use a little feather smoothing from this arduous trip before retiring for the night." "As you wish, sir." Perrin replied and then turned and looked down the hallway. He clapped his hands twice and a figure appeared from a room quite a ways down the passage. As the person approached, I couldn't help but notice the ridiculous opulence of the place. Everything was gold plated and rugged with deep plush burgundy. Statues, paintings and large mirrors covered the walls like a showroom. The lighting was multi-directional and soothing, and the air smelled lightly of something akin to lilac. I found it all a bit appalling. Mind you, I myself have more than a few pennies in the largest banks all around the world, but I can control my spending. No need, I felt, to make a gaudy mess of one's home just because one can afford to do so. The small woman whom Perrin had called forward made her way toward us, and she was a delight to see. Dressed in a typical French maid's uniform, she had all the European effects of Northern France down pat. She bowed slightly toward us and mused, "Ow doo you do this eve-en-ing, monsieurs?" Her accent was delightfully French, as were her servile mannerisms, dark bobbed hair and large, dark eyes. Delighted with her, I smiled and said, "Enchante', the evening is just getting better, my dear." "Oh, oui, merci monsieur." She blushed. Perrin saw his moment and directed her. " Claudette, this is our guest, Mr. Chanter-Prime. And this gentlemen is Mr. Farnsworth, his personal assistant, who requires to be lead to his specified quarters for the evening." "Oui!" She replied with aplomb. "A pleasure to meet you monsieur Chanter-Prime. It is an old French name, no?" "Oh yes, my dear." I replied. "Chanter-Primes once held high positions in the court of King George the Ninth of France, long ago in the 1500's." "Perhaps we weel speak of zis more?" She offered. "But for now, I believe Mr. Farnsworth is anxious to retire." "Indeed! Be on your way, my dear." I entreated with an obvious delighted smile focused on the barely legal specimen of French maid before me. "Farnsworth?.... in the morn..." I said nodding. "'Till then, sir." Farnsworth then turned and followed the charming ingenue down the short corridor to our right and then around a corner. I rather enjoyed watching her as she walked away. Perrin interrupted my reverie and began, "Now then, sir. I should like to announce your arrival to the Swede, but first perhaps you would enjoy a moments respite to freshen yourself up from the long trip?" "Oh, indeed!" I replied. And with that Perrin directed me to follow him down the hallway a bit to a rather large room he referred to as the "Trophy Lounge" Toward the rear of the lounge on the left side of the room was another door through which I could find lavatory access. I thanked Perrin for his hospitality and he disappeared down the hallway to announce me to the Swede, wherever in this opulent, haunting mess of a mansion, he may have been located at the time. Once inside the Trophy lounge, I turned for a moment and regarded the room itself. It was constructed much like a rectangular den, long from north to south and shorter on the converse sides. It too, was ridiculously opulent; adorned with gold and burgundy and quite a bit of black. A chandelier hung from the ceiling above a small table which must have been for the purposes of meetings and discussions rather than any consumption of food and or drink. The table had two Elizabethan era style chairs facing each other across the table itself. They, too, were gold and burgundy in esthetic design. The walls were again, as had been the hallway, covered in artwork, mirrors of various sizes and what would appear to be plaques given for the art of hunting and other such achievements. Feeling a need for the lavatory, I took no time to stop and read any of the awards, but I perceived their intent from form and superficial design. Hurrying toward the end of the room, I was taken aback by a large glass trophy case at the end of the room opposite the entrance and also the curious item within, though I had no time to stop and contemplate it. Once inside the lavatory, curiously done in dark greens and silver trim with only the highest quality of amenities, I tried to push aside the sight I had just seen within the case while concentrating on the moment and duties at hand. While doing so, thoughts of my initial meeting with the Swede crept into my mind. Wagering on horses had been a casual past time for me over the last several years, as I had become quite adept at the challenge of sizing up quite a few winners in high stakes races. A year ago, I had attended the Yucca Downs Championship held every year, for those in the know, and also in the green, as it were. And there, amidst the fine country club dining afforded all guests, I had first encountered the man known as "the Swede" over some fine veal Avignon and lobster turrell d'constatidor, a meal which cost close to a grand or so per plate. I rarely dined at such an extravagant cost, but due to my surroundings, I had little choice except to "do as the Romans do" While socializing with others at the grand ballroom table, I became acquainted with the tall, blonde haired and blue eyed gentleman known as the Swede. "You are very old money then, I take it?" He had responded when I had offered my name in greeting exchange. "Indeed, sir. Many of my family's holdings and land deals go back almost a century. But that great fortune was never so expanded as has been the case within the last thirty to fifty years or so." He leaned back in his recliner, which was covered in rich dark brown velour and he took a drag of his $300 Euros cigar, while catching a glimpse of the nearby flickering fireplace. "Ah, you speak of course, of the gains made in the silicon market... perhaps shares of Microsoft..... Apple.... and the like." "Oh, well, of course... as any would have done had they poured nearly $400 million into the burgeoning Microsoft when it was in its early stages of development. I often feel the world owes me some thanks for helping to build that ubiquitous monster!" I chuckled as I leaned forward in my own recliner and took another sip of the 500 year old brandy in my sifter. "But, land," I continued. "Land will always be with us. Land is true business, true money, and rarely if ever a matter of speculation. We Chanter-Primes have held land above all investments for nearly a century. We always shall, if I have my say." The Swede nodded. "MM. Yes, but here you are speculating on the ponies. Finding land a bit too, "grounded" as it were?" He chuckled out. "Heh! Clever! Most amusing!" I responded. "One must find his fun where he can...." I added with a slight turn of my head as though to apologize for the obvious break with my usual conservative view of money dealings. He leaned forward as if to share a secret and said, "Now, if I were to relate to you how I have made MY money. I do believe, old boy, that you would become down right apoplectic." Piqued, I responded. "Would I now? High risk then, I presume?" He blew a column of smoke which reflected the orange glow of the fire place. "One could say that.... yes, I believe one could." He recounted and then he paused for a moment and seemed to ponder a possibility. "Tell you what, old boy. If you are game for a bit of an 'otherworldly thrill', I should be well disposed to give you an up close and personal look at a 'speculation' you may have never considered. But I must warn you, such business as I am involved with is not for the faint of heart." I frowned. "MMmmm. I have heard such offers before whispered in government halls and private clubs over the course of my worldly travels... and this sounds like the beginning of an all too familiar offer." He raised his eyebrows in surprise as though shocked that I had indeed heard his own particular offer somewhere or somehow before. "Pray tell, sir! I have my sincere doubts, but please enlighten me as to your concerns." "OOhhh..." I moaned, with reluctance. "Usually it's the Freemasons.... the Illuminati.... once it was the Skull and Crossbones." "Hah!" He laughed. "Surely with your pedigree, your family has long been on the inside of guiding world events toward a new world order?" "In the past, yes...." I nodded. "Myself, I have steered clear of the political side of family dealings. I find it all quite distasteful." "I see... " He replied nodding his understanding. "Perhaps... we could indeed discuss a land arrangement.... my business is often in need of developing arrangements which require private ownership. Would this interest you?" "Indeed." I responded. "Excellent. Then I shall have you out to my private estate in the deep of the The Scottish Highlands forestry, lovely country for a get away, and if you find yourself taken aback by my own unique business ventures, then perhaps you'll consider only the land development I propose?" "This sounds fair. The Scottish Highlands, you say? What in the name of heaven are you doing located in such desolate surroundings?" I queried. "Privacy." He stated flatly. "I seeeee.... " I slowly hissed. "Nothing ..... illegal, say what?" I eeked out, not wanting to insult with such an assertion. "Issues of legality, old boy, happen inside of the system. Outside of the system... who is to say what is or is not legal?" I stroked my chin in mystified interest. "Offshore banking, then?" "Much of what I do happens offshore.... a part of it is banking..... but that is not the golden goose, as it were." I chuckled at his cagey manner. "Simply tell me, sir. Why be so avoidant?" "Take me up on my offer... come to my estate. Let me give you a taste first hand." He replied with a wink and a smile so beguiling that resistance on my part would have been the height of insult, especially considering the interest he had in sharing his covert operation with me. And here I am, seated on his fur covered lavatory commode seat staring at the reflection of myself in the full length mirror provided on the restroom closet door. I took a heavy sigh as the rain, which had now began to fall in torrents, fell in waves against the frosted glass of the windows on the lavatory walls. There were also flashes of lightning and rumbles of far off thunder that followed. I cringed to think what the black stone mansion I found myself inside of must look like on the exterior in such weather conditions. Farnsworth had used the word 'haunted' to describe his response to the edifice when we had first arrived, and I could only imagine a tower somewhere above me with a hunchback ringing a large bell and bats flitting about his misshapen head. Gathering myself together after a few brief moments with lavatory concerns, I once again entered the Trophy lounge with full intent of studying the glass case I had seen on my way toward the restroom. There, at the end of the room against the furthest wall, was a full standing glass case about 10 feet tall or so with a pedestal stand beneath it. Contained inside was another garish sight which conflicted with the surrounding accoutrements in both style and form while retaining its own form of blatant ostentation. A ceramic mannequin stood within the glass box. It was female in form, for the curiously large bosoms it purported made its gender a matter of obvious definition. The mannequin was garbed in what I can only describe as a "Brazilian carnival nightmare" On her head was a long, carefully styled auburn wig which reached down its back to the waist area. The ceramic face, having no discernible eyes or mouth, yet fashioned with a small nose structure, one without detail, wore a garish magenta colored domino mask covered in different sized star patterns. The mask covered only the upper half of the ceramic white face and seemed attached as though by unseen bindings. The torso, sporting a bustier which must have at one time displayed some rather impressive mammaries for the wearer, covered the bottom half of the breasts and down the belly and then back to the waist. It was designed in line with the mask with vertical stripes of magenta, white and blue, littered with a pattern of randomly placed and sized stars. The shapely hips wore rather immodestly short briefs which were designed with a deep blue background speckled also with random stars. Thigh high boots covered the feet and legs, almost to the feminine point and they were both magenta and blue in various swirling designs, covered as well in a smattering of stars. I marveled at the classless nature of the sartorial design and wondered why on Earth anyone would place such a thing on a mannequin and then within a trophy case. But the items that really caught my gaze where the manacles of heavy iron which were locked around the wrists of the mannequin, who held her hands in front of her in a resting position at the waist with the tops of the hands facing outward. Between the manacles was a heavy black chain that loosely hung from one to the other across the area just below the feminine point. Around the ankles were also more black iron manacles, and they too had a thick chain of black iron between them. "My word!" I exclaimed as I stepped back to take in the entire sight. Painful as it was to view with its arrogant design, I found the addition of the powerfully restrictive iron manacles a fascinating contrast. There was more here than just a mannequin in a sporty costume. There was a theme. A theme that, although not fully explained at this point in time, held a weird, almost forbidden fascination within me, which I found hard to tear myself away from. The Re-Purposing of Alouette LeGran "Ah ha!" I spat, as I noticed writing on the base beneath the case. I peered at the mantle as I moved in for a closer look. The engraved writing read: Alouette Le Grand, 2005. "Interesting...." I mused. I recalled the name from my travels in Northern France, but only in small blinks and shards of memory. I thought that perhaps I had heard of a stage performer... yes, perhaps an acrobat..... or some such physical talent exhibitionist that I had come across in a newspaper story or perhaps even from some late night television show during those moments when sleep encroached upon the waking world around me. Never the less, despite my inability to recall where I had encountered the name, I still questioned the rationale of what I was witnessing. If only I could quench my infernal curiosity as to why a chained female mannequin dressed in Bastille Day attire held me in such rapt fascination. I would indeed have to inquire of the Swede as to its purposes. Effectively, Perrin rapt upon the chamber door and called out, "Mr. Chanter-Prime, sir? Are you ready to engage the master?" "Yes, yes..." I called out. "I am on my way." And with that I turned from my object of deep fascination and headed to meet with Perrin in the outer hall. Following Perrin down several hallways, all matching the decor I have previously related, we were headed up a short stack of stairs to another level when I was presented with yet another shock not unlike the one I had just witnessed. There, at the head of the stairs was yet another glass case. This case too sported a ceramic figure of a woman dressed in another garish costume. The colors this time were canary yellow, emerald green and certain sections were purest white. The wig this time was for a light brown haired brunette with wispy strands and the non-detailed face sported a white mask that hid the top half of the face, with requisite eye holes and then wrapped around the head beneath the hair and flowed down into a rounded neck collar at the shoulders. She had a green cape lined around the rim in yellow and high heel stiletto boots that rose to her mid thigh. And once again, as with Alouette Le Grand, her wrists were manacled as well with black iron and chains, as were her ankles. Perrin noticed I had ceased my following his lead and that I stood gawking at this newest trophy case. "Ah, I see you've noticed the Swede's collection." "Oh?" I blanched. "Are there even more?" "All over the house, sir. This one is the Magic Maiden." I placed my hands in my pockets and leaned backward as I regarded the figure. "A curious collection of costumes. But I am puzzled by the capture theme, the black irons and chains." He regarded me with mild surprise. "Well, sir. The Swede is most proud of his work. He enjoys placing them on display." I blanched again, finding myself a bit confused. "I see, so he designs the women's carnival costumes and them places them on display as a form of art work?" I shook my head derisively. "I find it hard to believe that he makes much of a profit from these oddities." "Oh, no sir." He almost whispered. "He makes his fortune from their sale in the market. The costumes he keeps as his own trophy." I looked sideways at him in confusion. "You have truly lost me, Perrin." "It would perhaps be better if the master himself explained things to you, sir. Though personally, I wish the whole business would go belly up. Magic Maiden was one of the best.... tragic thing..... tragic thing." He related while shaking his head in a bit of sorrow. He then turned and continued to lead me down the hallway. I looked back briefly at the ceramic figure decked out in garish attire and studied the blank ceramic face covered with the white mask. Egad, I thought to myself. Did a real young woman once wear this awful get-up? And then my eyes beheld the manacled wrists. And was she somehow ... imprisoned by the Swede? Only a few doors down the corridor Perrin let me into the large state room through double doors made of heavy dark cherry wood. Inside, the room was comfortably lighted by a majestic fireplace and laid out with exorbitant furniture that was both welcoming and comfortable. "Mr. Chanter-Prime, sir." Perrin announced and then pulled the double doors shut as he exited. Near the fireplace, my host the Swede, raised himself from behind a high backed chair with a small book in his hand. "Oh, very good...." He said while rising. He turned to meet my oncoming handshake and said, "Xander! How good of you to take me up on my offer! A pleasure to see you, old man!" He wore a red smoking jacket with a dark orange ascot beneath his neck opening. A small pipe protruded from thin lips and his demeanor was one of a man ready to retire for the night. I took his hand in a shake of friendship and greeted him as well. "Xander, please come and join me for a cigar and brandy before you retire for the night." He offered. "It has been a long trip, and it is rather late." I offered. Just then the exterior windows briefly lit with the flash of storm lightning, and reminded me of the raging maelstrom still buffeting the house. "Come. Sit." He offered as he gestured to the chair across from his near the fire. "The last time we spoke was in similar circumstances.... " He began and turned and poured some brandy into a sniffer within his reach. He then retrieved a cigar from a nearby box and offered one to myself along with the half filled snifter of brandy. "This time I shall be able to drift off to a delicious sleep..... instead of having to politic with the locals until the wee morning hours." I told him with a wink and a nod. "Let the brandy relax your mood and the rain block out any disturbances, then in the morning we shall get right into it." It would appear I have already tripped upon your most unusual predilection...." He raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Indeed?" "Yes, your.... Alouette Le Grand....and, um... Magic Maiden...." I referred to with reserved curiosity. "Ah, yes.... well... having you inside the mansion... I suppose that would have happened....." He mused with a far away look in his eye. "Some of my most satisfying business ventures." I sat back in the high back chair and puffed on the cigar with one hand while holding the snifter in my other. "Pray tell, my friend.... are these artistic creations for a select audience... or are we speaking of actual persons involved?" He shifted in his chair and replied, "Well, both displays that you have seen were indeed actual women. But very special women for whom I was richly paid." "You were paid for these women? Are we speaking of a specialized type of prostitution?" He waved his hand, "Oh, no. Although some may have ended up in that position, that is not my intent. No, this Alouette Le Grand and Magic Maiden were what one refers to as 'Super heroines'." I sipped my brandy thoughtfully. "Super....heroines?" I queried. "Is the concept foreign to you?" "In reality... yes... however I am aware of a predilection fetish in certain circles...." "Ah, indeed! But these costumes where no mere $40.00 bedroom game concoction. They are the real thing, taken from the bounteous bodies of the champions themselves." At that moment my memory jogged in relation to Alouette Le Grand. "ooohhh, yes...." I said with slow realization. "I had heard of an Alouette Le Grand some time ago in the Paris area who had foiled a string of bank robberies, I believe." "Yes! Yes, one and the same!" He acknowledged. "Allow me to elucidate." He replied and reached over the back of his chair and retrieved what appeared to be a television remote control. He aimed the control at the space just above the fire and a wooden door slid up into the ceiling to reveal a giant monitor concealed behind it. "I had hoped to do much of this tomorrow....." He said while pressing buttons on the remote. "But since you are already engaged...." The monitor came to life with a solid blue screen that illuminated the room and then numbers and codes appeared within the field. "Here we go...." He said while pressing certain buttons that made the screen image lurch and change. In a moment there was a scene which was recorded in the brightest of day, with a large group of people surrounding a dais raised above the throng. There was a special microphone speaking stand in the middle of the dais and the Maire of Paris, France was speaking to the surrounding crowd. To his left, standing tall and proud as I had imagined her, was the unmistakable personage of Alouette Le Grand. And as luck would have it, I was indeed right about the revealing nature of her talented mammaries as they nestled within the top of her bustier. "There is Alouette Le Grand." My host instructed me. "This is the day she received an award for Citizenship above and beyond the call of duty from the Maire himself." "So I see...." I responded without looking away from the view screen. The Maire was indeed making a complimentary speech toward the buxom young lady dressed in the horrendous star spangled outfit next to him. Her auburn hair swayed with a light breeze and she wore a huge pink lipstick smile as she listened to the accolades. Her fists were triumphantly planted upon the sides of her shapely berthing hips and it was easy to see that even with the phenomenal shape of her female form, that she was toned and fit beyond the usual. I found myself stirring just to see her standing there in her outrageous outfit which I privately thought would be put to better use in a gentlemen's club. I also noticed, but made no mention of the fact, that contrary to what I had seen in the trophy room, Alouette Le Grand also wore a half cape over her back and long, opera styled magenta gloves upon her arms. These items had been missing from the glass case, and this was most unfortunate, for they truly brought the overall concept design to full fruition. A pity they were now not included with the ensemble. "That's one healthy girl!" I intimated. "Oooooh, yes!" My host retorted and then pressed a few more buttons on the remote. The screen changed to a few more moments after the Maire had finished his speech and Alouette Le Grand now stood holding the large, solid gold award and plaque in front of her as she thanked the adoring crowd. "I would like to thank all of you for your appreciation and recognition," She beamed with a big, happy smile. "And I hope to continue to make this city safe for all men and women who share our great city and deserve to be protected from the villainy and scum of criminal activity that threatens all of our very lives and the lives of our families." With that the crowd erupted into applause and cheers and Alouette Le Grand turned and shook the Maire's hand while lifting up her solid gold trophy in victory with her other hand. "Here are some more shots of her in action..." He continued as the screen changed to another scene containing Alouette Le Grand. "By the way.... " He included while turning his wrist over to show me a few of the solid gold rings on his left hand. "That citizenship trophy she was awarded by the Maire? Helped to make some of this exquisite jewelry I am now wearing." "You ..... eh... melted it down?" "Of course..." He replied with a bit of glee. "Where is Alouette Le Grand now, my friend?" I asked with a bit of impatient interest. "Let the video snippets take you on that journey." He assured me. We then turned to watch more of Alouette Le Grand's newsreel footages. Indeed the young woman, whom I had correctly guessed was all the age of twenty-five, was a powerhouse. The video showed her lifting a large bus by using an amazingly talented bird song and then taking off into the air with it as she effortlessly flew, under her own power, with the vehicle that must have been 5 tons in weight. She then displayed her fighting skills under a per-arranged exhibition where half a dozen brutish looking men all advanced on her with various weapons, only to find each one dispatched in turn to an adoring and applauding crowd. Alouette Le Grand was more than just a passing tale I had heard of once in my travels. She was indeed the champion of justice she claimed to be. And had the grit to back it up. The scenes showed many such exploits of news footage of Alouette Le Grand saving lives and performing daring-do for the betterment of mankind with her almost magical birdsong talent, and I was chagrined at my lack of awareness as to such heroic public exploits. Then the Swede fast forwarded the video feed and landed on a scene with a much different mood and feeling. The picture before us was strangely green hued, like those one would see when filmed with night vision lenses. I was informed that secret cameras were always used in these procedures to ensure realistic, honest interaction. "Now that you have seen her in action.... it's time to show you her inaction." The Swede flatly stated. The scene appeared to take place in a dimly lit dungeon of a room. The accoutrements surrounding the perspective were hard to make out with the green shaded tone of the production. Before us, slightly to the left of the screen, was the face of Alouette Le Grand herself, her hair falling over half of her face and a grimaced expression etched into her features. Her hands were on either side of her head and obviously bolted down to some type of furniture upon which she seemed to be straddled across while on her belly. Behind her head, her lovely backside was lifted high and exposed and she struggled and wiggled to try and remove herself from the inconvenient position. She wore her gaudy star spangled mask, her gloves, and I assume her boots as well, though her legs were hidden somewhere below camera angle and out of our view. Her buttocks, however, and seemingly her midriff as well, were completely nude. She had been stripped of everything but the outer garments of her costume. Her tea colored eyes, now turned green by the night lens, flashed and darted with an alien oddness as she spat unintelligible orders and protests over her shoulder to some unseen person who apparently was there in the room with her. She tossed her hair and pulled at her restraints. Her rear end swayed back and forth, presumably with the attempted movement of her legs and feet as she tried to free herself. I was aghast and perplexed by what I was witnessing. "My word!" I exclaimed as my mouth began to dry. "What has happened to the poor girl?" "At this point, she is now my captive and beginning her training." He stated matter-of-factually. "Training?" I asked with rapt amazement. "Oh, yes. Her kind must be tamed and trained for specialized use." "Use?" I blanched. "Why sir, you speak as though this heroine was but a bit of product." "At this point, she IS product. This is what I do. I remove problems for my clients and then re-purpose those problems for intentions that will keep them occupied and useful for another kind of service." I sat back in my chair with a bit of chagrin and realization. "Ah.... so, Alouette Le Grand is no more." "She provided her owner with a service for quite a few years beyond the initial training, but as of today..... well, as of about a year ago, Alouette Le Grand has been permanently eliminated. Some sort of accident I have been told. However in the interim, I made a handsome profit which has assisted me in being able to live as I do and engender further business from past and also future clients." A bit saddened by the news, I asked, "And how did you do it, sir? How did you come to bring down such a mighty girl as this... who can even fly!" "Well." He began. "Not long after those foiled bank robberies, a client for whom she had caused considerable loss and trouble time and again, contacted my organization and requested help, seeing as they had time and again failed to do so under their own power." "Therefore, we planned a series of troubled instances.....such things as gas station fires, bridge collapses, possible terrorist bombings, train derailments and so on..... all programmed to take place either simultaneously or in tandem over the span of three to four days. Alouette Le Grand, now the beloved heroine of the populace, was so consigned to push herself to be involved in as many dangerous mishaps as she could possibly handle." "Naturally, of course, even the super strong and the invulnerable have their point where mental fatigue takes over and sleep is inescapable. Once we saw that she was indeed brought to the brink, it was a bit of child's play to have her followed by a specialize squad of hooded men trained for such a job, to see where she would go to find her much needed rest. Surprisingly, home she did go." "Once my cohorts saw that she had graced herself in her sleeping nighty and fallen dead away, it was rather easy to simply converge upon her bed with twenty men to hold her down while chloroform pads were applied to her nose and mouth. Oh, she struggled mightily, that is for sure.... but waking from REM sleep and not fully regenerated.... my men soon had the lass unconscious and bound. She was then shipped to a training facility.... the one you see now on the screen..... located offshore in the Bahamas." "But," I interjected. "She can fly. How do you control a heroine who can fly away?" I queried with rapt confusion. "Our science boys have studied these types for some years now, .... many brain studies and operations have been done..... some with unfortunate ends..... such ends cost millions in final profit, but they discovered that any ability... begins with a mental command. Say for instance, you take a sip of your brandy only after you decide to do so. If you cannot send that command... or say you do send one but there is no response, then you do not enjoy your brandy. It's the same with a power of flight.... or in Magic Maiden's case, for instance.... she was able to summon objects out of thin air or move great objects long distances simply by willing it to happen.... well, once that ability to command the action is taken away.... the power is seemingly lost, though it may indeed still be present....quixotically, it can no longer be called upon." "So.... you use some sort of brain blocker?" "Exactly. Sometimes a drug will suffice... depending on the client, for they may enjoy the constant subjugation and power trip of inoculating a heroine with a controlling drug. Or, as was the instance with Alouette Le Grand, a physical blocker may be installed at the base of the skull and then removed at a later date when training takes hold. Either way, the heroine is rendered helpless and as normal as any other woman." "Surely, once they escape.... you'll have an enraged and powerful woman to deal with." "Ah, well that is where the training comes in. Once their will is broken and they are trained to serve, they believe their powers have been overcome. They don't even try to solve the riddle of how we could have beaten them and removed their abilities.... they simply believe that they are now rendered normal and helpless..... and all because we told them it was so." I was amazed that such a thing could be. "I find this all very untenable, sir." "Watch the video." He told me. "You will see how we begin the process." I turned and saw a large, dark muscled man, probably African in descent I supposed, enter the viewing screen. He was hooded, covering his head and face, save for the eyes and he wore only dark, possibly leather pants and boots. His bare chest was gratified with what appeared to be a plethora of tattoos. He was a beast of a thing, at least 6 feet and a half and perhaps 250 pounds. His chest and arms where muscled like a man who could bench press immense amounts of weight. In his right hand he held a long flat board which had been whittled down at one end into a pole shape and taped like a baseball bat. He paced menacingly behind Alouette Le Grand, whose protests seemed to kick up a notch and she spat and cursed and pulled at her restraints. After a few pacings back and forth, the large man closed in on the poor girl's exposed behind and swung with a mighty blow against the rounded derriere. The Re-Purposing of Alouette LeGran Alouette Le Grand screamed and bolted upward with his connection, her face etched in tortured pain, her hair flying behind her tossed head. Her mouth was pulled open wide, as were her eyes with the sudden affront to her lovely rounded buttocks. Unfortunately for her, the man did not end his assault there, but reared up time and time again to swing that mighty, flat board at her helpless rear haunches. I was aghast, but couldn't pull my eyes away. After what must have been about fifteen minutes of watching the man punish Alouette Le Grand's hapless behind, my host pressed a few more buttons and forwarded the film ahead. Now, about twenty minutes later, it seemed, from the counter on the corner of the screen, the scene had changed quite dramatically. The black man in the hood still swung time and again at the exposed buttocks of his victim, but Alouette Le Grand was now of quite a different demeanor. Now she seemed almost calm and reserved. She no longer pulled at her restraints, or bucked her hips to avoid the swing of her trainer. Her face was curiously calm and almost reticent. Her mouth would quietly make little "O" forms with each brutal connection of the flat board. Though her body naturally lurched forward with each swing of his board, she actually seemed to have entered a pleasurable mode of acceptance within her ordeal. As saliva dripped from her open mouth and she made those little "OOO" forms with her lips, I became fascinated and engaged in a way I have never fathomed. "Do you see, my friend?" My host intimated. "Do you see how things have dramatically changed? THAT is what the training can do for the poor wretches. They only need to be taken there.... as is necessary by force." With the cigar held I my teeth, and the brandy sifter held between both of my hands, I looked at the floor for a moment in contemplative disbelief. I then looked over to him, and having no words, nodded my amazed affirmation. He held out the remote toward the screen once again and said, "This next part may be a bit much for the more genteel among us." And with that the scene again had drastically changed as my host had forwarded again to a span of time later in the video. The man who had so brutally whipped Alouette Le Grand, whose name I was to learn was Levon, was now glistening in sweat as it poured over his body. Alouette le Grand, too, was covered in glistening sweat and her hair was now soaked and matted in ugly blotches across her face, neck and shoulders. She still was confined to the furniture she had been originally prostrate upon but now Levon was upon her. With one hand he had a large gathering of her hair just at the crown of her forehead, and with the other he held her creamy white hip, which no doubt was severely reddened by her dastardly ordeal, and his fingers were splayed and deep into her flesh. Behind her, hidden from view of the camera angle, Levon had removed his trousers and no doubt was savagely plowing the yielding flesh of Alouette Le Grand's nether regions. Vigorously he pummeled the helpless girl again and again with machine like efficiency. His own face, hidden by the hood mask, must have been contorted with lust. Alouette Le Grand seemed on the edge of passing out as her head was easily maneuvered by the brutish African to and fro with each thrust of his loins. Her face was blank with expression, her tongue loosely hanging over her bottom lip. I raised the brandy glass between my self and the screen and entreated my host to move on, "Agh! Yes, I expected such to be the case due to the nature of this video, but such a brutish attack I find most distasteful." "Of course, of course, my friend!" He assured me, taking note that I had had very little exposure to such things before and could only take so much drastic stimulation and he forwarded the video again. "Let's see where we are now...." He mentioned as he once again stopped at a random spot. Now Alouette Le Grand sat upon what seemed to be a stool in an isolated room, the green night vision coloring remained, and this time she was indeed naked again in full display before the cameras. Her blessedly plump and firm breasts were impressively on view in this segment and the nipples appeared to have had been pierced and rings inserted into each of them. A small linked chain hung across her chest from one nipple to the other. Her arms were now de-gloved and hung loosely across her thighs as she squatted upon the small stool she had been placed upon. Her hair was now swooped upward and caught by some unseen suspension that reached beyond the top of the camera's eye. Her head hung loosely as though she slept, with her chin resting on her upper chest. Her eyes were covered by some electronic masking device I would soon be informed was a three dimensional reality projector glass which was used for programming and re-directing the thoughts of the exhausted heroine. Its efficacy was nowhere in doubt as, despite the fact that she was completely free of restraint, and seemingly alone in the room, she made no move to free herself, but sat there allowing herself to be controlled. "Not much going on there for the viewer, eh?" I retorted. "No, but that is another part of the taming and training they must all be put through." With that he continued to move the video ahead further. "All, you say? How many since you began?" I wondered. He looked toward the ceiling thoughtfully, "Oh, I would say about two hundred and thirty or so in the last fifteen years." "My word!" I interjected. "And when one considers the price paid for their sale on the market.. say upwards of forty, fifty or sixty million for most.... you can see how I was able to build my lifestyle from their systematic defeat." "Sale on the market? ......... Human trafficking?" "Oh, they must be troublesome super heroines.... not just any lost child or popular debutant.... although in her private life, Alouette Le Grand was indeed just that..... the daughter of the avocat distric in fact..." "But what of the authorities???? What of the super powered men who are their compatriots???" "You would be surprised how a complimentary yacht for sailing around the world will quiet the most introspective of Police Chiefs, Federal Agents, and even Interpol. They seem to have a rather negative opinion of these powerful women as it is, and just can't seem to solve the strange disappearances. The Super males are a curious lot as well. I have seen them actually hold back during a group battle to allow their female counterparts to be overcome, only to swoop in and rescue them at an appropriate time. I have my suspicions as to why they never seem to investigate the loss of these young heroines. I would just a soon leave well enough alone and not be informed." "FAN-tastic! So these women are in effect out there alone... with little real backup. And yet they carry on?" "They do, and it has created a lucrative market for those in the know on these matters. It has, in fact, made me a multibillionaire by placing them on the market for their enemies and men of high stature and secret societies." "And what do they do once they have purchased one of these lovelies?" "Anything they want. Some keep them as bed warmers. Others harvest their organs for re-sale. Others still perform strange sexual experiments upon them for research..... or simply just breed them." "Anarchy! Complete anarchy!" I protested while shaking my head in disbelief. "And here is another of my training inventions." He continued as he stopped the advancement of the video. Alouette Le Grand was now facing a new camera and in a slightly sideways angle which allowed the viewer to see much more of her stupendous form. Strapped to some sort of "hobby horse" like contraption and placed upon her stomach, her body was prostrate, nude except for her gloves and boots, and clamped down to the sides of the horizontal piece of powerful looking iron work with her upper arms encased in gauntlet like metal bindings on each side of the flat iron. Her ankles as well were also securely trapped tight against the sides. Her overall position was as a ten speed bike racer would take during a long marathon in the country. Her eyes were once again covered with the three dimensional programming glass and her mouth was filled with a ball gag which was strapped around the back of her head, up and behind her now stringy, matted mess of auburn hair. Her impressive breasts now also hung to each side of the iron work and appeared to have electrical wires running up to the engorged nipples which were clamped with painful looking alligator teeth attachments. Her rear end was again high and in a perpetual motion of up and down, as was her whole body, while it lurched rhythmically back and forth as though she were riding a horse at a slow trot. The cause for this was the presence of a machine to the rear of her confinement which moved with the same rhythm up and down. This machine appeared to have a rotating wheel contained within a sliding metal arch. The wheel caused another attachment to move in and out of the young girl's feminine point. I was informed by my host that there were two rather large and thick dildo devices, brutally ribbed, which were being pistoned in and out of the hapless girl's vaginal and rectal openings. These dildo devices contained topical agents of a mixed cocktail of psychotropic drugs, muscle relaxers and libido stimulants that would be pumped into her lower quarters, deep inside her female sex, for hours at a time.... perhaps even a day or so. "The use of mind controlling drugs during the training is wonderfully potent," He informed me. "Once a certain point is reached in the re-tooling of the heroine, they are no longer needed. Nor are any brain blockers. The training takes hold." I nodded my understanding. "Changing the chemical makeup of her physical brain....." He nodded his agreement with my premise. The video then silently stopped in the next spot with but a finger press of a remote button. The scene was quite different this time. The camera lens, one which was part of a concealed recorder as I was informed, now framed only the top half of the lovely Alouette Le Grand. There was a severe black stone wall with intricate, bone colored mortar lines running between a mass of differentiated granite rocks as a back drop to the scene. Alouette Le Grand was framed from slightly above her head to just below her impressive ripening fruit mammaries. She sat upon some unseen chair or stool and was, of course, nude as far as I could tell. Her hair was no longer loose and flowing free as I had seen her in the earlier video installments of her heroic deeds, but was now pulled tight to the back of her head and twisted tightly into a three stranded pony tail that hung loosely down her naked back. With her hair pulled back and her face close to the camera and illuminated by some strong off screen natural light, I was given the natural and honest representation of the girl in all her creamy skinned beauty. She wore no makeup on her lovely, high cheek boned face, which was plainly shaped like a heart down to her sweetly rounded chin. The large, saucer like tea colored eyes were clear and radiant and unadorned by any cosmetic application as well. I could see a slight speckling of freckles upon her peachy cheeks and her button like nose, which tilted upward in the most attractive fashion of beautiful girls. Her UN-adorned lips were also full, bee stung and at the moment pinkish and bow shaped. The nude nape of her neck ran down smoothly over her exposed shoulders and the flat of her upper chest, which also had a light smattering of freckles, smoothly crested into her wonderful breasts, which made nary a dent below them as they sat full and aroused upon her chest. The nipples, which seemed always to be in constant arousal state, were full and strongly pink in color. They had, as I have mentioned, been pierced and rings of silver passed through each. A silver link chain of perhaps a bit too heavy metal kind was linked to each breast and must have been a constant painful annoyance to the heroine as it seemed with every move she made, they began anew their aggravated stimulus of her most sensitive erogenous zone. Her eyes were shifted slightly off camera, watching some unseen person who no doubt sat facing her. There was a low, deep male voice which spoke to her. It was quite commanding and seemed patiently restrained and when I heard it, I perceived a slight foreign accent which I could not place. "How did you come to be here?" The voice asked with husky, dark tones. Alouette Le Grand licked her smooth pink lips and shifted her eyes a bit and then responded, "I ... um,.... I was, uh..... captured." "And who captured you?" The man asked. "I'm.... I'm not sure...." She responded seemingly with honest innocence. "Was it not a team of masked men who abducted you?" She reluctantly nodded her agreement. "Answer me." Said the voice with flat emotion. "Oui .. it was a team of.... masked men." She said, and then began to make little movements of discomfort. Her eyes had trouble staying focused on the man behind the camera, no doubt due to her awareness of her nudity before the stranger which must have been upper most in her thoughts. "Tell me what happened." She looked a bit pained and stalled as she looked down towards the floor, seemingly searching for what to say. "Marguerite!" The voice spoke in a commanding, sharp tone. Alouette Le Grand seemed shocked to hear her real name mentioned and she sat straight up and regarded her interviewer with an expression of cautious worry. "Tell me what happened. Do not require me to ask you again." The voice patiently stated. She wagged her head with a bit of frustration and began, "Well, I was ..... asleep in my bed..... and.... and suddenly I was awakened by a group of masked, hooded men dressed in leather." "Did you resist them?" "I... I tried...." She said nodding. "But you failed." "Oui." She responded while lowering her eyes to the floor again. "I ... think they gassed me... somehow." "Yes. They used chloroform to put you to sleep." The voice responded with an almost clinical expertise. Alouette Le Grand nodded and cocked her head as though learning this for the first time. Her big hazel eyes grew wide with realization. "Marguerite, did you enjoy being chloroformed?" She frowned at the question and shook her head. "No. It was awful." "Are you sure?" "Oui." She responded confidently, but her eyes began to dart back and forth as she spoke. "Marguerite Antoinette.... Isn't it true that when you were chloroformed you came so hard that you squirted the bed?" Alouette Le Grand gasped at the question. Her eyes were wide with disbelief and her lovely bow lips parted with the gasp. "Answer me." The voice again commanded. This time, however, the voice was softer, almost knowingly instructive of the naked girl's inner position. "The question.... it's ..... it's......" "Embarrassing? Personal?" "Oui! I cannot believe....... I cannot....." She stammered indignantly. "Is it true?" She took a deep breath and slowly shook her head with bewilderment. "No.... no, of course not." She insisted. Her lovely cheeks now flushed with a red hue of embarrassment. "The men who captured you. They say that you DID wet the bed with your sex." "No..... no...." She insisted as she seemed floored by the questioning. "Tell me the truth, Marguerite Antoinette Mercer." The voice quietly whispered. It seemed to be responding to the objecting girl's protests with a correlating degree of strength that moved in a converse direction. The more she protested, the softer and more unyielding the voice became. "Did you have a major orgasm and flood the bed when you were chloroformed into submission?" Alouette Le Grand shuffled in her seat and seemed to be looking for a way out of the highly personal questioning. But there was no escape for her provided. "No.... " She insisted. "Are you calling the men who took you liars?" The voice said softly in a more high pitched, questioning tone. "Oui!" She insisted uncomfortably. "Oui, they are lying." "Tell me the truth, Marguerite." "I am.... I am telling you the truth." "I say that it is Marguerite Antionette Mercer who is a liar. I say that you DID cum hard. VERY hard." "NO! No, I promise!" She insisted, now becoming more distressed at the insistence of her interrogator. "Okay. I am going to have those men come in here all together and you can call them liars to their faces. Would you like that?" She shot a worried look at her accuser and her eyes grew wide. "No! No, please don't do that." She begged and she reach out to the man speaking to her. There was a long silence as he seemed to be quietly staring at her. She swallowed hard and looked away...and then down at the floor. "Answer me, then." She took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut. Her chest seemed to cave inward with the strain she was undergoing and she sat slouching, looking down at the floor. "Did you cum hard and squirt the bed when you were chloroformed, Marguerite Antionette Mercer?" She blinked hard twice and took a deep breath, then she looked upward into her questioner's eyes with a pained, frustrated expression and nodded her head in affirmation. She then closed her eyes and angled her chin down to the floor once again. "Answer me. Admit it." The voice again commanded, but this time the softness was lost. This time the voice was filled with an offended tone, as though Alouette Le Grand had just insulted the man before her. Looking down at the floor in resignation she responded, "Oui." "Yes, what?" She nodded as she spoke and could not bring herself to look upward at the interviewer. "Oui." She said with obvious regret. "I came hard and squirted the bed when I was chloroformed." "So I was correct, Marguerite Antionette Mercer? You are the one who is the liar?" She looked up at him for a brief second with pained eyes and a drooping mouth and said. "Oui." "Yes, what? ........Marguerite Antionette Mercer." There was along moment of pause as she sat frozen, barely moving with her eyes closed. Then she looked up again and replied, "Oui, I am the one who is the liar." She mused with a disappointed and slow shake of her head. Her voice trailed off as she spoke and she let out a long defeated breath. "You are not just a liar. You are also ....... a slut." Offered the male voice. She quickly looked up at him with a slightly pained, offended expression and seemed about to voice a protest as her lips parted to speak. But then she simply closed her mouth and sat quietly watching him with sad, defeated eyes. "Admit it...... Marguerite Antoinette Mercer." The voice solemnly ordered. She swallowed hard and licked her lips again, her eyes slowly meandering as though struggling with some internal decision and then she softly stated, "Oui, I am a liar .... and a slut." With that she again closed her eyes in disgrace. There was another long period of silence. It was as though the interviewer wanted the moment to hang in the air with monumental finality, fully claiming the time and space and forcing Alouette Le Grand to only hear in her ears the sound of her recent words. "Marguerite." The voice continued. "You called those men who captured you and brought you here liars." She looked up at him in resignation. "Oui." "And yet it is YOU who are the liar." "Oui." "What should you do now, Marguerite Antoinette?" The voice asked with a curious tone. The naked girl sat for a long moment and then, with her eyes again glancing to the floor said, "I should apologize." "That's correct." The voice confirmed.