Government Granted Goths (Gothification) (Patreon)

Hey folks!

Well, looks like the end of May has just about caught the last Wednesday of the month. The year's almost half gone already. Do I have anything meaningful to say about it?

... Nope! No, I guess all I do around here is write stuff and post it. Well darn, I hear philosophy pays pretty well these days. Guess I'll stick with my day job.

So, please enjoy this slightly noirish tale of conspiracy, daring detectives, and above all: Goths!

-

As rain continued to patter against the clear dome overhead, Fredrick Shelly tapped a spoon against the edge of his wineglass. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he called, his jovial voice booming out over the crowd of partygoers, “I know the bar is open, and we’re all looking forward to starting this evening’s revelry on the department’s dime, but if I could have your attention for just a moment…”

There was a smattering of polite laughter and chuckles as everyone turned to face him. One always made sure to humour the boss at these kinds of events.

“Thank you, thank you. Well, now I could start us off with a long speech about the department’s history, or the importance of hard work and dedication, but…” He checked his watch. “I’m off the clock, so I’ll keep it short and sweet.” His grin grew at the second round of laughs. “Folks, I’d just like for us to all take a moment to welcome the newest member of our team, Mr. Toby Harker. I’m sure this is just the start of an illustrious career spent with us. If you’d all raise your glasses? To Mr. Harker!”

There was a cheer and a round of applause as a slightly bashful man in a fine business suit smiled and bowed out to the crowd.

The effort certainly seemed to please Mr. Shelly, who laughed. “Good job, all! Now, let’s get the party underway. Madeline, if you could perhaps fetch me a refill…” His voice blended into the growing hubbub as he turned to the dark haired, pale skinned woman at his side.

The end of year party was a popular, high class affair, filled with well-dressed men and women all trying to schmooze their way into better connections and higher promotions as the bosses mingled with the masses – and, of course, all their gothic partners accompanying them. A fancy hall had been rented, decorated, and fully stocked with alcohol – everything that made for a good work bash.

It didn’t impress Rebecca Molay, though. She’d seen this kind of shindig far too many times already this year, and parties had never been her scene in the first place. But these get togethers were one of the best places to be to overhear loose tongues chatting about things they shouldn’t, safe amongst their fellow workers. For a reporter like her, they were a champagne flooded goldmine.

Clad in a red off-the-back dress, she moved through the crowds of executives and office workers like a raindrop winding down a windshield, sliding around groups and occasionally joining those that seemed interesting. To be honest, the Department of Conjugal Affairs wasn’t normally a group she’d pay attention to – not enough to sneak an invitation to an event like this, anyway. But she’d received an interesting tip that had promised a big scoop waiting for her here…

… One that had not yet presented itself, to her irritation. Everything she heard was normal office talk. Gossip about the manager down the hall, speculation about the year ahead… Pointless! If her source had been anyone else… Frustrated, Rebecca pulled out her phone as she stepped over to the bar for a little seclusion from the mingling hordes, touch-typing in a quick message with barely a glance.

[This is a waste of time. What am I looking for here?]

She didn’t have to wait long for an answer – her phone pinged just as the bartender set a fresh glass of wine down in front of her.

[Wait for it. I’m sorting out the last details now. Trust me, you’re going to want to see this one go down.]

The blonde’s eyes narrowed. They were promising something big, but she hadn’t seen signs of anything yet.

[This had better be good. I’m missing out on good episodes of Violetti tonight.]

[I promise, sis! Now relax – you’ll see what I mean soon.]

[I’d better.]

She sighed as she sent the message off, raising her new glass to her lips. Honestly, if this didn’t bear out, she was going to-

“Trouble at home?” A voice spoke up from next to her, and she nearly jumped hard enough to throw her drink in her face. Wow, she really was distracted tonight, wasn’t she? Turning around, she found herself face to face with…

Frederick Shelly? The boss himself? She blinked in surprise. “Uh. S-something like that.”

The tall man grinned, accepting the sherry that the bartender handed to him. “Nothing too serious, I hope?”

“Oh, no, no,” the reporter shook her head, giggling as she nervously stroked her long hair back over her shoulder. “I was just… messaging Damien at home to make sure he remembered to record a few shows.”

“Ahhh.” He nodded understandingly. “Damien is your partner, I assume?”

‘My government mandated ‘boyfriend’, you mean?’ Rebecca bit down on her first response – it wasn’t a good idea to get snarky with the head of an entire government department. Not if she wanted to get a story out of this evening, at least. “Yes,” she said with her most charming smile instead. “He’s a real help around the house. Though I guess I have you to really thank for that, right?”

He laughed, deep, hearty sound. “Oh no, I certainly couldn’t claim credit. I may be in charge of the Give-a-Goth Initiative, but it’s my people who do all the work. Making sure every man and woman in the nation has their own goth is far more than a one-person job.”

The reporter humoured his supposed modesty with another smile. Well, since she’d run into the guy, she figured she may as well see if she could get him talking. “Well, fair. But you’ve certainly seen a lot of success. I’ve been hearing it’s been a real boost for the nation’s health rating…”

She guessed right – Shelly was only too happy to blather on about the good work his job was doing. “Oh, the health benefits have been immeasurable. Humans are social creatures, of course, but we spent so little time acknowledging that fact before the GGI. Loneliness, depression, poor health… Things that are so easy to fix, as long as you have someone in your life who cares. And that is the real reason for everything we do.” He nodded sagely.

Rebecca couldn’t quite help but quirk an eyebrow. “And the aesthetic choices?”

That got a chuckle. “Well, it would hardly be Give-a-Goth if they weren’t goths, right? Goths are what the people wanted, and Goths are what they have received.” He grinned and reached out, pulling the dark haired, pale skinned woman who was always following close behind him to his side, his hands stroking down the side of her black dress. “I certainly won’t be arguing with the wisdom of the masses. As far as I’m concerned, my Madeline here is just perfect.”

‘Well there’s a surprise,’ the blonde thought, sarcasm lining every word. Her eyes roamed over Madeline’s busty figure slowly. ‘The guy in charge of the entire operation gets one of the most attractive goths babes. And I know there’s plenty of people out there still waiting for their match.’

She kept all that inside, of course. That was well known public discourse – it wouldn’t get her anything interesting (except perhaps thrown out of the party) to start throwing any of that at the guy. There was one question she was curious about though…

“I can definitely see the appeal,” she said, looking back to Shelly. “And Damien’s a wonder, he really is. Though, I have to ask while you’re here…” She gave him that patented Molay charm 5000 smile again. “Where do you find these goths? Securing a partner for every person must take a lot of people, but I’ve never heard of any recruitment drives…”

But alas, she could already see she wasn’t going to get her answer. “Now that’s a departmental secret, Miss Molay,” he said with a grin, taking a sip of his drink. “Can’t be giving that away. Government secrets and all.”

She blinked again. Shit, he knew who she was? “O-oh? Well, that is a shame…” Did he know she’d bribed her way in? That she was a reporter looking for a scoop? Damn, this could be trouble…

But instead of pursuing any of that, he simply shrugged and nodded. And then…

“By the way, Miss Molay, I was sorry to hear about your sister.” He bowed his head sombrely. “My deepest condolences about her disappearance.”

“What?” Rebecca stopped short, her brow furrowing. “I’m sorry? What do you mean? My sister isn’t missing.”

“Oh no? My mistake.” He smiled again – and this time there was something unsettling in his eyes as he looked at her. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must get back to the party. Do enjoy the drink, Miss Molay.”

He stepped away, his gothic wife following silently in his wake – and the blonde bit her lip. Quicky, she sent off another message.

[Are you ready yet?]

Then she waited, sipping on her wine with growing concern as no response came.

[Sis?]

Nothing. In the background noise of the party, she thought she head Shelly laugh.

[Hey? You there? Answer me!]

But no further messages from her sister’s number ever came.

-

It was two weeks later. The rain was pouring from the heavens, and Penelope Molay had been declared officially missing. No one had seen or heard from her since the night of the party – and no one had any clue where she could have gone.

Rebecca hadn’t left her apartment in days. She’d traded her red dress in for a comfortable blue hoodie and slacks, sat herself down on her lounge couch, and had spent every waking moment pouring over every scrap of her sister’s research that she could find. There had to be something in there – some clue, some lead on where she could have gone. Something that’d tell her what her sister had been trying to do when she’d vanished…

Penny had been – no, was, was – an investigator. It was why she and her sister worked so well together – having a friend in the press was invaluable for someone like her, and Rebecca got tips on the biggest scandals before anyone else out of the deal. It was an unofficial partnership, sure, but it had proven very profitable. Until now, anyway.

“What were you trying to do, Penny…?”

There was a quiet thunk as a bowl of soup was placed on the table next to the blonde. She looked up to find her gothic assigned partner, Damien, looking down at her with concern. “You need to eat, Rebs,” he said gently. “You can’t do all this work on an empty stomach.”

“… Thanks.” She sighed, reaching out and taking the bowl. She couldn’t deny that she was hungry.

No, scratch that, she was starving, judging by the way she started inhaling the soup. How long had it been since she’d last eaten…?

Damien smiled, taking a seat across from her. He was a tall guy, with raven black hair, and the trademark black casual clothing of a goth. “How’s your research going?”

Rebecca grunted. “It’s going nowhere at the moment,” she grumbled around mouthfuls of soup. “She was looking into about a dozen cases all around the city. And her filing system is worse than mine.”

He whistled. “Well that takes some work.”

“Right?” She slumped back on the couch. “I think I know the case she was working on when she vanished. It had to be something to do with the DoCA. She had me attending one of their parties – she was going to use that somehow. Maybe stage a big reveal of some governmental corruption case, with me right there to record everything… But something went wrong.”

The goth frowned. “You think she got caught or something?”

“Or something, yeah. Has to be.” Rebecca finally set the bowl down. “But the problem is, whatever she was working on, she left like, no notes on it. None that were found, anyway. The only thing I found in her apartment that had anything to do with DoCA was this…”

She pulled a sheet of paper out of the sea of scattered documents, laying it on top of the pile. It was a blueprint for a building, a full floor plan of a large office, with several question marks sketched on it in Penny’s handwriting.

“Any idea what it is?”

The reported bit her lip. “I think it’s the downtown DoCA distribution centre. It fits the shape, but…” She shook her head and pulled out her phone, showing off images of the building in question. “All these marks Penny left – I think they’re places where the official records are wrong. Like, see this wall here? That’s nowhere to be seen on the real building. Someone’s done a lot of modifications.”

“Huh.” Damien studied the blueprint. “But why?”

“I don’t know.” Rebecca looked to her phone. “… But I think I know where to find out.”

-

This was stupid. She knew it was stupid. It was possibly the stupidest thing she had ever done. But it was her only lead on finding out where her sister had gone.

The surprising part of it all was how easy it was to abseil down through a skylight. She’d thought that was just something from the movies.

“Can you still hear me?” Damien’s voice spoke through her earpiece, a tiny whisper of static swirling through every word. “I’m not sure how far the signal on this will reach…”

“I hear you fine,” Rebecca answered, pressing her back to the wall as she peered around a corner. The halls were dark – it was late, and the lights had been shut off when everyone went home – but she had just enough night vision to see ahead. She hadn’t spotted anyone yet. So far, so good. “Have you worked out where I have to go yet?”

“Just about…” She heard the flutter of paper as her goth consulted the floorplan. “You should be at the junction between Accounts and Research Development. Where you want to go first is Records – that’s where you’ll find the best leads on what they’re up to here. Once you’ve taken a look there, we can investigate some of these marks your sister made…”

The reporter/infiltrator nodded, before remembering her partner couldn’t see her. “Right.”

“And Rebs?” His voice was worried. “Be careful.”

“Bit late for that…”

She pulled away from the corner and slipped down the corridor – her black bodysuit (purchased from an entirely too amused costume store clerk) blending in with the environment nicely. Thanks to the map she knew where all the security cameras were, so she wasn’t too worried about being caught on them – but she’d pay a visit to the security office to delete the footage on her way out all the same.

It almost certainly wasn’t going to be needed. The building was surprisingly easy to break into for a government building. They didn’t seem to be taking security seriously here at all. Doors had been left unlocked, card readers outright deactivated, scanners left dormant… It was refreshingly easy to reach the Records department.

Honestly, maybe she was just better at all this than she’d thought!

Records itself was a claustrophobic office, with no windows or proper air conditioning. Rebecca was just glad she didn’t actually work there – and that whoever did had left their computer on. She hurried over, hoping they’d left themselves logged in too… But no luck.

“Damn, I thought this was going to be quick for a moment there,” she sighed into her microphone. “I have a computer, but no login.”

“Hold on.” She heard more rustling. “I think I saw – yeah, here we go. Your sister left a note with a name and password on it. Want to give it a try?”

“Really? How’d I miss that?” She shook her head. She’d been pouring over those documents for days and still completely blanked on what she was seeing, apparently. “Sure, let’s give it a shot.”

Account: [Arrons37]

Password: [BigTiddyG]

The screen lit up. She was in! And someone in this department had really poor taste in passwords…

“Okay, that did it. Let me see here.” She started pulling up databases. “What are they up to. Hm. Profits… Quotas… Acquisitions… Acquisitions?” Her eyes narrowed. Just what could the Department of Conjugal Affairs be acquiring? Maybe this was what she was looking for? “Let’s take a look at that…”

A spreadsheet opened up in front of her, and she began to read. But it wasn’t long before she was confused. This wasn’t right. It was just a list of names. A long, long list of names – and she recognised some from various lists of missing people over the years. Could it be…?

The reporter bit her lip, and shuddered as she felt a tightness form in her chest. Something was wrong here. This wasn’t what she’d expected, not at all. But now the question she’d asked Mr. Shelly, the question everyone was curious about, jumped back into her mind. Where do the goths come from?

A sudden need gripped her, and she grabbed the mouse, scrolling all the way to the bottom of the spreadsheet. And there, just as she’d feared…

[Penelope Molay]

Eyes wide, she clicked the name, and pulled open the file behind it, reading in a blur. They… They had everything in here. Name, date of birth, career history, medical records, dating history, location…

Location?

Rebecca leaned forward, hands gripping the desk. “Oh my god.”

[Location: DoCA Distribution Center]

She… She was here?

“Rebs? Rebs, what’s happening? What did you find?” Damien’s voice broke through her shock, and the reporter immediately sprang into action.

“Damien, I’m sending you some files now.” Her fingers flew over the keyboard, compiling everything she’d found and sending it on. “I’ve only taken a glance, but they’re definitely up to something here. Whatever happens, I need you to get these to my editor as soon as possible, alright?”

“Wha- Wait, what do you mean? Why can’t you show them to him yourself?”

The blonde finished the transfer with a final few commands, and then pushed away from the desk, getting back to her feet. “… I will. I mean, I will. But first… Dames, I found Penny’s name in their files. They say she’s here somewhere, in the building. I need to find her.”

There was a pause. Then a slightly melodramatic groan. “Alright, I get it. Okay, where do you think she is?”

She peered out of the office door, making sure no one was about to discover her. “I figure it’s time to take a look at those marks Penny made. Maybe she left us a trail to follow. Sound good?”

“Sure. That’s our best bet. Okay, you’re going to want to take a left at this next junction…”

-

The stairway Damien’s instructions led her to went down far, far deeper than Rebecca expected – far further than she’d thought the building itself extended. And as she descended, the décor of her surroundings changed. The wallpaper, designed to be bland and uninspiring, was replaced with plain, uncovered concrete. The carpeted floors with their inconsistent patterns vanished, leaving only metal flooring. And the lights went from neon to… Well, still neon, but more flickery. It was clear that wherever she was going, much less work was put into making it presentable. Most people weren’t meant to see whatever awaited her up ahead.

“Bzz-ignalzzz… weak... Don’t know how long we can Zzzzttt…” Her earpiece crackled, and she nodded. Heading this deep underground was bound to break their connection.

“Just make sure those files get sent out,” she ordered. There was no response. She could only hope he’d heard and understood.

Soon enough, she reached the bottom of the stairwell, and found herself pushing through an industrial style door… Out into something out of X. The space was huge – practically a giant cavern, roof held up by massive dark steel pillars wide enough to be buildings themselves, lit by neon lights that trailed off into the misty darkness. And through it all ran a web of conveyer lines, whirring with motion, carrying a cargo that almost looked like…

“People?” She muttered, staring. It was too hard to make out any features in the cloudy underground smog, but those were definitely human shaped shadows being moved around. What on earth was this place?

She snapped some pictures on her phone (no signal, of course) and took in her surroundings. She was stood up on a steel walkway, high above the floor – so high, in fact, that she couldn’t see her way down. But she could see other doors, ahead of her, in one of the pillars up ahead. And she could see a few conveyers conveying in that direction…

Taking a breath, and stealing one more glance around, she crept on ahead.

The room on the other side of the next door felt much busier than the last. Here, the conveyer belts led into great big machines, about the size of a solid truck, which rumbled and steamed and did who-knew-what to the people led inside. And here, at least, she could get a clearer view of the people being carried along. They came in all sorts, heights, weights, clothes, genders… There didn’t seem to be anything she could see that connected them all together – save for the fact that none of them were struggling. In fact, all of them were standing in place passively, staring ahead with glassy eyes as they were led out of sight. And despite how many she saw taken in, the reporter couldn’t see anyone emerging from the machines…

Just what was happening here?

“Hey! Who goes there?” A sudden yell disrupted her thoughts, and Rebecca spun to see security guards – actual security guards, where the hell had they been? – bearing down on her. She did the natural thing – she ran like hell.

But – oh no. There was nowhere to run! The guards had come around behind her without her noticing, cutting off her escape. Desperately, she plunged deeper into the facility, trying to vanish between the gigantic machines in the maze of pathways, ever pursued by the clanking sound of chasing feet.

“Damnit… I need another way out…!” She gasped, ducking and weaving, looking for another door, another exit, something to get her away from the guards. But they were drawing closer, and there was no exit in sight.

Wait! Maybe…

A few moments later, two pairs of security guards converged on the spot where the intruder had last been seen, coming at her from both ends of the pathway she had to have been corralled onto. And yet, when they met in the middle, there was no sign of the woman to be seen.

“What the… Where the hell did she go?”

“Didn’t she pass you? I could have sworn I saw her go this way…”

“No way, she must have gone towards you guys…”

Naturally, they blamed each other. And thus, paid no attention to the slightly over-crowded conveyer line steadily moving away from their cluster, just below the walkway – where a catsuited blonde was trying not to hold still and not look too nervous.

‘C’mon…’ She thought, eyes straining to look back at the guards without moving her head. ‘Just give up and go away so I can sneak out…’

But they weren’t moving, she realised, her stomach sinking. They were just going to stand there, in plain sight of her, arguing with each other for as long as they liked. And all the while, her conveyer belt was creeping closer and closer to the gaping maw of one of those machines…

She had a choice here, Rebecca realised. She could stand here, and just let herself be carried into the machine, see what happened… Or she could try to bolt again, and get spotted by the guards for another exhausting chase. She wasn’t sure she had the strength for that, but at the same time she had no desire to see what these machines actually did.

Either way, she didn’t have long before the choice was made for her. So should she-Woah!

It turned out she had less time than she thought. Before she could even fully decide to make a choice, the conveyer belt suddenly sped up, and the reporter found herself hurling into the darkness, the machine door slamming shut behind her, before she had time to so much as scream.

Back on the walkway, the security guards chuckled.

“Think she bought it?”

“Hook, line, and sinker.”

-

Rebecca plunged into darkness, the floor having vanished out from under her the second that the door had sealed behind her. Her cries of panic echoed around her as she fell, sliding down a metal tunnel that twisted and turned at an unpredictable rate, sending her past hatches and vents in a blur. She felt like a marble dropping down a series of branching pipes, being sorted and guided with no say over where she ended up.

Until the drop suddenly ended with a splash.

She barely managed to draw breath before the waters were closing in over her head, and then she was struggling to swim. The fluid moved slowly around her as her arms pumped and her legs kicked, but after a few disorientating moments she burst through the surface, gasping desperately for more air.

Light returned to her world – a distant overhead neon bulb allowing her to see her surroundings. It illuminated a metal vat like the inside of a grain silo – but maybe it was closer to a paint mixer, half filled with a thick white gloopy liquid that sucked at her arms every time she tried to lift them. Wh-what the hell was this? What had she ended up in? Was this stuff dangerous?!

She needed to get out. Desperately, she looked around for the edge, for a platform she could climb up onto, but there was nothing. Osha, some small, distant part of her mind that wasn’t completely losing it with panic noted, would have a fit if it saw this place… But that was the least of her problems right now.

She was starting to feel strange. There was an odd tingling in her skin, a light shiver making its way through her entire body. It was like she was cold, but… not. And while she looked around for a way out, she noticed something else.

Her clothes were melting, blending together like running ink and sloughing off her body. She raised her arm over her head with wide eyes, only to watch the arm of her bodysuit slump off her like melting snow from a heated stove. For a moment she was surrounded by a black puddle in the middle of a white lake – and then even that melted away, draining out of sight and leaving the shocked reporter alone in the pool, the only blot of colour in a blank chamber…

Except, wait.

Wait, no. There must have been something wrong with the light in here, because as she looked at her arms, they seemed awfully pale…

But before she could look closer, a metal claw descended from the ceiling, snatching her up by the waist before she could react. This time there was no helping the scream as she was hauled out of her unexpected dip, now as naked as the day she was born, mysterious liquid drizzling off her from every angle. And there was no time to process what was happening before she was whisked off down another tunnel.

Warm air buffeted her from different angles, her skin instantly drying as she was carried down a heated passage filled with spinning fans built into the wall. In a matter of moments there wasn’t any sign she’d been for a swim at all. But as quick as it was, soon she was being spirited away through another dark doorway, the clamp around her middle too tight to properly struggle against.

Struggle she did though, squirming and wriggling in its firm, rubber coated grip, until she felt the claw starting to slow, and realised that she had reached her next destination.

This one was better lit than the tunnel had been, too, and it allowed her to see clearly what she’d been denying for some time. Her hands, her arms… No, her whole body, she slowly realised, had turned a stark shade of pale. It was as though she’d seen some old movie horror, and she’d turned as white as a sheet in terror! Her skin was practically colourless – no marks, no scars, and barely any pigment at all.

“Wha… What…?” Rebecca’s voice was more like a whimper. Everything was happening so fast, shock after shock, that it was getting hard to keep up. And she received another jolt as she tried to turn her head and inspect the rest of her body, only to see a lock of ebon black hair flow before her eyes. “M-My hair?!”

She shook her head, unable to lift her hands to check – and was rewarded just as she feared, with a furtive glimpse of long dark locks. There wasn’t a trace of her natural blonde to be seen. Dark hair, pale skin… N-no, it couldn’t be-

In her distraction, she missed what was going on around her – at least, until a large ring-like device descended over her, spinning like a disk as it lowered itself around her body. She could see little pinpricks of green light on its inside, flashing as they moved down over her head, chest, thighs, and toes. Was… Was it scanning her?

“Substandard specimen detected,” a robotic voice rang out, leaving the reporter furiously looking around the dark metal chamber for any sign of speakers. “Correcting.”

“Wh-who the hell are you calling…?” Rebecca tried, weakly, to get back on her mental feet, to fight back against this bizarre mechanical nightmare she’d found herself in, to struggle against her bonds and break free of this trap. But she couldn’t even get to the end of her sentence before she cut off with a gasp as a pair of large suction cups shot out and sealed themselves over her chest.

There was a slight sting as numerous needles injected her with a mixture of chemicals, but that was quickly replaced by a warm rush that flooded through her breasts. Before she even knew what was happening, a burst of pleasure sent her reeling, her head lolling back, a moan echoing up from her throat. And while she was insensate, her chest was starting to grow…

Another set of stings, and then rush of warm, wet pleasure in her ass cheeks, more strange suction-cup like devices affixing themselves and starting to pump. That really sent her eyes fluttering, her nerves dancing with delight that pulsed into her unprepared brain. In fact she was so distracted by it that she never noticed the black mask descending over her face – the quick sting of more injections in her lips, nose, and cheeks quickly obliterated by mindless bliss.

Her mind may as well have been melting under the onslaught, her shock and rage nothing compared to the wonderful sensations pouring through her system. But it was her body that was becoming truly malleable – plumping and pumping up under the suction cups, giving her normally slender body a set of heavy hips, and an even heavier pair of hooters, while the mask massaged and sculpted her face into a new, seductive shape, in which Rebecca Molay was only just barely recognisable.

By the time the machines were done and disengaged, a pale skinned, dark haired, busty beauty lay limp in the claw’s grip, a small trail of drool drizzling from the edge of her lips, eyes rolled up in her head.

It would be some time before she was really aware of her surroundings again. Everything was a blur of flickering lights and the wind rushing on her suddenly sensitive skin. And it wasn’t until her now firmly padded ass was being shoved into a cold metal chair that she really snapped back to herself – and she quickly found it was too late to struggle as metal restraints snapped closed around her wrists and ankles, securing her in place.

Startled, she looked up – and found herself face to face with the last man in the world she wanted to see.

“Miss Molay, what an unexpected surprise!” Fredrick Shelly smiled down at her, flanked on either side by a gothic bride. She recognised the one on his left instantly – she’d seen Madeline plenty of times by now. The one on the right was new, though. Some generic goth girlfriend, by the look of things. “Why, if you wanted to see me, you didn’t have to go through all this. You could have simply booked an appointment!”

Rebecca took a breath, glaring up at the man. So he really was the one behind all this, was he? Nice to have that confirmed. “Shelly, I don’t know what you think you’re up to here, but this is insane. Let me go, right this instant, and may, just maybe I won’t get you charged with false imprisonment along with the pile of other criminal charges coming your way for all this.”

She was hoping, desperately, that she might appeal to some small fragment of sanity within the man. He couldn’t do this to her, after all. People would notice she was gone. Damien knew where she’d been, and had already sent the incriminating files to her paper…

But all she got was a laugh. “You’re an amusing woman, Miss Molay. No, no, don’t worry, you’ll be free to go soon. This isn’t some detention cell or anything. It’s just a little… health check.” He chuckled at some private joke. “Ah, but I’m being rude. I haven’t introduced you! Obviously, you already know my darling Madeline…” He gestured to his left, where Madeline curtsied daintily. “But have you met Celestia yet?”

He gestured to his right, and Rebecca found herself looking at the woman with dark red hair a little closer this time. She was clad in an elegant black dress, with skin as pale as any goth’s, her hair done up in lengthy ringlets on either side of her face. There was nothing familiar about her features, and her expression was as blank as they came. Honestly, the only thing notable about her was her chest size, which was stretching the front of her tight corset-like dress something fierce. Rebecca finally shook her head with a shrug. “No, I don’t think I have. How is this relevant, Shelly?”

The official grinned. “I was just confirming something. A little personal project. Honestly, it’s something I’m quite proud of. Here, let me show you – Celestia, be a dear and show our good reporter friend a mirror, why don’t you?”

“Of course, Sir.” The redhaired goth curtsied, before pulling a hand mirror from her belt and stepping forward, showing Rebecca her reflection.

The reporter stared – and the goth in the mirror stared back. This couldn’t be right – her reflection had never had such plump lips, no such a small nose. In fact, her reflection had never looked anything like this at all. Her face was completely unrecognisable!

Or… No. No, it wasn’t. The face in her reflection wasn’t hers, by any means, but she did recognise it. It was Celestia’s face – framed by black hair instead of red. Except it was no where near as passive as the real Celestia was. The eyes in the mirror were wide, and her skin somehow even paler than ever…

A chuckle drew her attention away from the mounting horror she saw in the mirror. “What’s the matter, Miss Molay?” Shelly asked. “Don’t you recognise yourself? I shouldn’t be surprised – you didn’t recognise your sister, either.”

A cold jolt shot down her spine, and her head spun to look at Celestia. The goth just stared back at her – no glimmer of light in her eyes, no trace of recognition on her face. She… She couldn’t be…

Suddenly, everything went black as something slammed down over Rebecca’s head. A helmet?

“Well, thank you for confirming the quality of our work. Not even her own sister recognised her. I think that speaks for itself. Now, you really must be going, Miss Molay. Can’t have snoops like you hanging around. I think you need a change of pace and mind. Maybe a new name… How about Willow? That’s a nice one.”

She grit her teeth and tried to buck the helmet off. “I don’t know what you’ve done to her, you bastard, but you’re going to pay for this! People know where I went! Even now your secrets are heading straight to the front page of tomorrow’s papers!”

“Oh yes! Thank you for reminding me. One second, let me get my phone.” She heard the sound of an outgoing call. “Hey there, Damien, was it? Have you packed up all of Molay’s files?”

“Yes sir.” A familiar voice played over speakerphone, and Rebecca’s heart dropped like a stone. “I’ve collected everything up and scraped any reference to the DoCA in her books. Her diary’s last entry has her planning to investigate a mafia case down by the docks.”

“Excellent!” She could hear the smile in Shelly’s voice. “Perfect. Well then, play the part of a grieving widow for a few weeks, then report in for repurposing. We’ll get you sent out to the next snoop looking into department business.”

“Of course sir.” The phone snapped shut.

There was another chuckle. “I’m afraid we program a lot of loyalty into our product, Miss Molay – as you’ll be seeing in a moment. We’ve had you and your sister pegged for some time. I did hope that you’d take my warning and stay away from following in your sister’s footprints… But I suppose the two of you were just too alike in the end. And that won’t be changing any time soon!”

He was laughing at his own joke, but his voice already sounded strangely distant. There was a weird buzzing sound, a crackling static bubbling up in her ears, and it was a strain to hear anything past it. Plus there were these distracting patterns starting to flash in her eyes. Quick images flickering, swirling and spiralling together, twisting and turning… It was so disorientating! And if she really focused, she thought she could just about make out some words in the middle of it all.

It was… all… really… really… distracting…

Distracting enough that she didn’t even feel the damp patch spreading on her chest, just below her slack jaw… Or the way her body went limp as the black and white spirals filled her vision, and white noise flooded her ears… Or her mind drifting away into a hazy, floating nothingness…

-

“You wanted to see me, Sir?” Toby Harker leaned his head into the office, rapping his knuckles against the open door.

Director Shelly looked up from his desk. “Ah, Toby! Come in, my boy. Yes, got something to show you.” He leaned forward and pressed the button on his intercom as his guest walked in. “Madeline, send in the girls.”

“The girls?” Toby paused just before he was about to take a seat. “Ah, you mean…?”

“That’s right, lad.” The boss chuckled as a door at the side of the room opened, and a pair of pale figures stepped in. “Your order has finally come through.”

The younger official jumped straight back to his feet, watching with awe as a pair of pale skinned busty beauties positioned themselves side by side in front of him. Dressed in the most elegant of gothic gowns, their hair styled into long, face framing ringlets, their pale faces made up with seductive black makeup, they were everything you could possibly want in a big titty goth girlfriend, twice over.

“I can’t believe it, you actually found twins?”

That had been his request, but he hadn’t really expected them to come through. And yet here they were – completely identical from tip to toe – clothing, figure, faces, all! The only difference he could see between them was the colour of their hair – one had black, the other dark red - and even then it wasn’t that much.

The Director chuckled. “Well, close enough. I mean can you tell the difference?”

“No sir, I certainly can’t!” Wow. He’d known that coming to work for the DoCA would have benefits, but this was more than he’d dared hope.

“Glad to hear it. This one is Celestia, and the other is Willow. Girls, why don’t you say hello to your new owner, hm?”

Light seemed to dawn in the women’s eyes, and in one synchronised motion they both rushed forward, wrapping themselves around Toby’s arms.

“Oh, are you our new boyfriend? Such a stud~” The redhead on the left said – Celestia.

“Mm, we’re going to have such fun, hot stuff~” And that was black hair on the right – Willow.

“Oh… My…” The official licked his lips nervously, his face growing red as two very busty beauties snuggled up against him. “That would be fun, girls… B-but I have a few things left to finish here at the office…”

Black painted lips pouted in unison. “But dear, we wanted to give you…” Willow started.

“… A proper hello! What kind of girlfriends would we be if we didn’t?” And Celestia finished, both girls clinging tighter, and leaving poor Toby a stuttering mess.

Fortunately, salvation was at hand. “Now now, my boy, some things are more important than work, and getting your new goth girls broken in is certainly one of them!” The Director chuckled over his desk. “Leave them here and get yourself signed out at your work station. You can take the afternoon off for a proper celebration, eh?”

“Th-thank you boss!” The new recruit didn’t waste time, slipping free of gothic grip and all but sprinting out of the office – to the twins disappointment.

Such disappointment didn’t last for long, though, as Director Shelly coughed. “One last thing, girls, before you leave. Does the name Molay mean anything to you girls?”

The twins blinked and looked at each other, before looking back to him.

“No Sir.”

“Should it Sir?”

The pair tilted their heads in curiosity.

The Director shook his head. “Not at all. How about the names Penelope and Rebecca?”

This time the question got a snort of disdain from Willow. “Ugh, how dull.”

And Celestia shook her head. “Those names are awful!”

“How could anyone with a name like that…”

“… Sleep at night? Alone, I bet!”

The goths raised hands to their lips, hiding a haughty pair of giggles. It was just the response that Director Shelly wanted to see. “Good good. Forget I asked, girls. That’s an order.”

The pair nodded, their brains automatically scrubbing any memory of the past thirty seconds of conversation from their heads with casual nonchalance. It was an order from the DoCA, after all.

“Now, Toby will be back any moment. Make sure to treat him well, girls. He has a bright future with the department.”

“Of course sir~”

“We love him already, sir!”

“With all our hearts~!” They both said that last one together, blushing like schoolgirls from a black-and-white film.

“Excellent.” Shelly nodded, proud. “Of course, if he turns out to be anything but loyal to the DoCA…”

Celestia smiled. “We’ll steal all his secrets…”

And Willow’s eyes flashed. “… Hack all of his accounts…”

“… Ruin his life…”

“… And they’ll never find his body!”

The pair giggled again, delivering their cold-hearted lines as if they were delivering the latest gossip to a friend. Because, of course, there was no friend greater to them than the DoCA.

The Director smiled. They were perfect. No one would ever be able to tell that these two had once been a pair of dangerous snoops who had nearly ruined decades of work providing the people what they needed most – least of all themselves. The threat of the Molay sisters had been well and truly put to bed. Just as the two themselves would be once Toby got them home, he was sure.

Indeed, as the junior official returned, out of breath from running all the way to his office and back, the twins were already on him, leaving thick trails of black lipstick down his neck. They probably would have jumped him right then and there if not for his boss’s polite cough. As it was, he simply put his arms around the two, and excitedly escorted them out of the office and off down the hall, all three eager to put their new partnership into practice.

“Hm. A happy ending for all, really,” Director Shelly muttered, leaning for the intercom once again. “She wanted to be reunited with her sister – and she was. Sounds about right to me. Oh, Madeline, could you fetch me a refill? Running a little dry in here. There’s a good girl…”

One really couldn’t beat a good goth girlfriend, that was for damn sure.