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Meanwhile, as the first shift of the crew began their day, Lucia and Carmen, dressed in their uniform, moved with a purpose that belied their usual roles. Because the bet in the bar had not gone unnoticed they had spent the night in a restless anticipation, their plan taking shape in hushed whispers and shared glances. To them, the trunk represented not just an act of defiance but a statement, a claim to a life less ordinary. With a trolley in tow, they navigated the corridors with practiced ease, their guise as part of the luggage service a perfect cover for their audacious scheme. As they approached Isabella's cabin, the weight of their decision pressed down on them, a mix of fear, excitement, and a dash of guilt. "Morning," Lucia greeted the few early risers they passed, her voice steady despite the butterflies dancing in her stomach. Reaching the cabin, Carmen knocked softly, announcing their presence as the luggage service. There was no answer, Isabella having left early in anticipation of the day's events. With a master key, a perk of their position, they unlocked the door and slipped inside. The trunk sat there, an unassuming participant in their plot. Without speaking, they lifted it onto the trolley, the weight of their cargo a tangible reminder of the reality of their actions. As they wheeled it out of the cabin and down the hall, Lucia couldn’t help but feel a surge of adrenaline, a rush of excitement at their audacity. The journey to their own cabin was a blur, their hearts pounding in their chests with every step. Once inside, they locked the door behind them, the trunk now a testament to their resolve, an anchor tethering them to the unforeseeable consequences of their actions. Carmen, with a glance at Lucia that spoke volumes of their shared resolve, unlatched the trunk. As the lid swung open, revealing Brad's cramped form, his expression was one of bewildered discomfort, the reality of his situation etched across his face. "Good morning," Carmen said, her voice a mixture of apology and mischief. "We thought you might need a change of scenery." Brad, stiff and disoriented, slowly uncoiled himself from the trunk, his eyes adjusting to the dim light of the cabin. The absurdity of his predicament was not lost on him, and despite the discomfort, a reluctant smile played on his lips. "Why?" he finally asked, echoing the question that had haunted him through the night. "We needed to make a statement," Lucia explained, her voice firm yet without warmth. "Consider this an unconventional protest against being invisible." After these words a panel gag was shoved in his mouth and locked behind his head. In his supprise he didn´t even resist. As Brad stepped out of the trunk, his legs unsteady but his spirit undaunted, he realized that this journey was no longer just about the destination. As the Sirena Del Mar prepared to another depart, its decks alive with the hustle of passengers and crew, Isabella stood apart from the crowd, her gaze fixed on the bustling activity with a sense of detachment. The ship, a vessel of adventure and escape, was on the cusp of its journey toward the vibrant shores of Mexico, yet her heart was anchored in turmoil, tethered to a singular, consuming concern: her missing trunk. In her mind, the departure had been meticulously planned. Her belongings, including the crucial trunk that secretly housed Brad, were to be collected and brought to the baggage claim area, a routine procedure she had trusted without a second thought. But as the ship's horn sounded its imminent departure, a sinking realization dawned on her—the trunk was nowhere to be seen. Clutching her boarding pass, Isabella made her way through the throngs of passengers, her steps growing more frantic as she approached the baggage claim. The area was a swirl of activity, families and travelers gathering their belongings, their faces alight with anticipation for the journey ahead. Yet, amidst the chaos, a void where her trunk should have been. Isabella’s heart raced, each beat a drum of escalating panic. She approached the crew member overseeing the baggage claim, her voice laced with a barely contained desperation. "My trunk—it hasn’t arrived. It’s essential, and I need it," she explained, the tremble in her voice betraying her growing distress. A crew member, sympathetic but clearly overburdened by the departure's demands, promised to assist, tapping away at a tablet to trace the missing item. "We’ll do everything we can, Ms. Montero. It’s probably just misplaced. We’ll file a search request right away." But Isabella’s mind was a whirlwind of worst-case scenarios, each thought darker than the last. The ship was a labyrinth, a massive vessel of corridors and compartments where a trunk could easily vanish into obscurity. The idea of leaving port without it, without knowing Brad’s fate, was unbearable. As the crew member continued to reassure her, Isabella’s gaze drifted to the windows, to the expanse of ocean that stretched beyond. The ship was inching away from the harbor, the gap between them and the land growing wider with every passing moment. A feeling of helplessness enveloped her, a stark contrast to the vibrancy and hope with which she had boarded the ship. The trunk wasn’t just a piece of luggage; it was the keeper of secrets, of promises made under the cloak of night. Its absence was a chasm that threatened to swallow her whole. As the ship set sail, leaving the harbor behind, the calls of seagulls, and the gentle lapping of waves against the hull and even the gutural note of the foghorn—all merged into a distant, muffled backdrop to her devastation. She filed the search request, her signature a mere formality that did little to quell the storm within. The crew member offered words of comfort, but they fell on deaf ears. Isabella was adrift in a sea of her own fears, watching the shore disappear, with it, any semblance of control over the situation. Within the cramped confines of Carmen and Lucia’s cabin, the atmosphere was thick with tension, an unsettling blend of anticipation and unease permeating the air. The trunk, once a mere container for belongings, had transformed into a prison for Brad, its dark interior a world away from the luxurious expanses of the Sirena Del Mar. The first day of Brad’s captivity was marked by a surreal blend of normalcy and absurdity. Carmen and Lucia, maintaining a veneer of their daily routines, intermittently attended to Brad, offering him food and water with a disconcerting nonchalance. They allowed him brief moments of respite from the trunk to attend to basic needs, but these moments were fleeting, overshadowed by the return to his confinement. "Time to stretch your legs, but don’t get too comfortable," Carmen remarked dryly, as Lucia unlocked the trunk to let Brad out for a quick visit to the toilet. His movements were stiff, each step a reminder of his limited freedom, the handcuffs a constant presence that chafed both his wrists and his spirit. The cabin, cluttered and dimly lit, felt like a world apart, a stark contrast to the bright, open spaces of the ship he had so recently enjoyed. As he returned to the trunk, the reality of his situation settled in—a stark, unyielding truth that he was at the mercy of his captors. Over the course of the two days, Brad's initial shock gave way to a profound sense of helplessness. Bound and locked within the trunk for hours on end, he was left alone with his thoughts, the silence punctuated only by the sounds of the ocean outside and the occasional taunts from Carmen and Lucia. "Hope you’re enjoying your luxury cruise," Lucia would say, a hint of mockery in her tone. "Consider this an exclusive tour of the ship’s unseen quarters." The jests, though light in spirit, cut deep, reinforcing Brad's feeling of powerlessness. The uncertainty of his future loomed large, a shadow that darkened his thoughts and fueled his fears. Would he be discovered? What would happen to him, to Carmen and Lucia, if they were caught? At night, the trunk became a claustrophobic chamber, amplifying every fear, every doubt. The darkness was absolute, a tangible entity that seemed to press against him, suffocating and omnipresent. Brad found himself grappling with a growing despair, the kind that festers in the absence of light and hope. His mind raced with scenarios, each more unsettling than the last, as he struggled against the bindings that held him. The fear was not just of the physical confinement but of the unknown, of what lay beyond the walls of the trunk and the cabin. Carmen and Lucia, for their part, seemed to relish the control they wielded, yet beneath their taunts and forced indifference, there was a palpable tension. As the second night drew to a close, Brad lay in the darkness, the weight of his situation a heavy cloak around his shoulders. The line between reality and nightmare blurred. The Mexican sun bore down with an intensity that seemed to pierce the very hull of the Sirena Del Mar as it docked. The air was thick with anticipation, the vibrant pulse of the port city a stark contrast to the somber mood that had taken hold of Brad. Trapped within the confines of the trunk, he was acutely aware of every movement, every shift as Lucia and Carmen prepared to disembark. From his darkened vantage point, Brad could only imagine the chaos that enveloped the ship as it emptied its human cargo. The sounds were muffled, yet the occasional laughter or shout that reached him spoke of a world moving on, oblivious to his plight. Then came the movement. The trunk was lifted, jostled amongst other bags and luggage, a clandestine passenger amidst the mundane. Brad's heart raced as he felt himself being transported down the gangway, the sounds of the port growing louder, more immediate. The trunk was loaded with care—or as much care as one could afford a piece of luggage—into the trunk of a waiting car. The sound of the trunk closing was a dull thud in Brad’s ears, a finality that sent a shiver down his spine. Inside the car, the atmosphere shifted. The engine roared to life, a sign of departure, of movement towards an uncertain fate. Mexican music flooded the space, vibrant and lively, a stark contrast to the fear that twisted in Brad's gut. Lucia and Carmen joined in, their voices mingling with the melodies, singing with a freedom that Brad could only envy. The car pulled away from the port, the rhythm of the music and the motion lulling into a semblance of normalcy. Yet, for Brad, each turn of the wheels was a step further into the unknown, a journey away from any hope of rescue. His mind raced with questions and scenarios, each more terrifying than the last. Where were they taking him? What fate awaited him at the end of this journey? The uncertainty was a torment, the not knowing a torture of its own kind. The laughter and singing from Lucia and Carmen seemed to mock his predicament. They were free, reveling in the adventure of the moment, while he was confined, powerless to alter his course. The disparity between their experiences was a gulf that yawned wide, filled with Brad’s ever-growing fear. As the car wound its way through the bustling streets, the sounds of Mexico enveloping him, Brad realized the stark reality of his situation. He was utterly at the mercy of his captors, strangers who had become his entire world, dictating his fate with whimsy and song. The fear that gripped him was not just of the physical danger but of the realization that he was alone in a way he had never been before. On sunset the journey ended as abruptly as it had begun, the car grinding to a halt in a cloud of dust and exhaust. The landscape was stark, unforgiving—a stretch of Mexican desert that seemed untouched by time, its vastness a stark canvas under the relentless sun. Before them stood a house, if it could be called that—a rundown structure that bore the scars of neglect, its walls sun-bleached and weary, standing defiantly against the elements. Lucia and Carmen emerged from the car, stretching their limbs, their bodies silhouetted against the dying light. The trunk popped open with a click, a sound that seemed overly loud in the quiet that enveloped them. Without a glance toward the trunk that held Brad, they each grabbed a beer from a cooler next to it and sauntered to the front of the house, where two mismatched chairs awaited them. The chairs, like the house, had seen better days, but they settled into them with a familiarity that spoke of many such evenings spent in contemplation under the vast sky. The opening of the beer cans was a soft hiss, a prelude to the conversation that would decide Brad's fate. "Should we sell him?" Carmen mused, taking a sip of her beer. Her tone was casual, as if discussing the fate of an old piece of furniture rather than a human being. “I think he´d fetch a good price.” Lucia pondered the question, her gaze lost in the distance. "Or keep him as a maid or sextoy? Could be useful," she replied, the corners of her mouth turning up in amusement at the thought. Their discussion flowed as easily as the beer, the morality of their situation seemingly lost on them. They weighed the options with a detachment that was chilling, their laughter and jests a stark contrast to the gravity of their conversation. Meanwhile, Brad, still confined within the trunk, listened with a growing sense of dread. Each word, each laugh, was a reminder of his complete powerlessness, his fate hanging in the balance of their whims. The fear that had been his constant companion during the journey intensified, morphing into a visceral terror at the realization of his predicament. After finishing their beers, Lucia and Carmen rose, their decision no closer to being made. "Let's bring him in. We'll decide tomorrow," Lucia declared, her voice carrying a finality that brooked no argument. They approached the trunk, their shadows long in the setting sun. The lid opened, and for the first time in hours, Brad was bathed in the light of the desert. His eyes, adjusting to the brightness, met theirs—two figures who held his life in their hands. "Welcome to your new home," Carmen said, a smirk playing on her lips as she offered him a hand to clamber out of the trunk. Brad's legs were unsteady, his body weak from the confinement. As he was led into the house, every step felt like moving deeper into a nightmare from which there was no waking. As the door closed behind them, sealing his fate for the night, Brad was acutely aware of the surreal turn his life had taken. The conversation outside, the casual discussion of his worth and purpose, echoed in his mind. The night promised no solace, only the continuation of a journey into the unknown, led by unknown two women with dubious intentions. --- I hope you like it as much as I do! Please leave a comment, and tell me if you would like an alternative ending.

"Ummm, mom, dad .?" Jessica says as she and her fellow doctors begin their new arrival's medical diagnostic scan. Jessica exhales softly as she, the Queen and Blue Jen, move out of Whinny's sight and commune telepathically. Jessica glances towards her fellow doctors, says in the link, "I completely understand and support Buffy's use of the apple to gain familiarity, Whinny is not of this or any other universe that I'm aware of, the apple could of killed her." The Queen nods, says in her normal standard tone of voice in the link, "As usual, the Spirit did provide." Jessica nods, chuckled, gestures towards her medical diagnostic hand scanner, asks, "Are you familiar with Whinny's species, aside from basic bone structure, bone structure that's very calcified extremely authentic, I'm not exactly sure or certain what's actually useful, and what is sicknesses." The Queen nods, communes with the Blue Jen, says in the link, "Understanding achieved, my beautiful doughter, what is unknown is only unknown till it becomes known" The Blue Jen gestures towards Jessica's diagnostic medical hand scanner, says in the link, "May I make the nessrssery "Adjustable Adjustments." Jessica nods with great enthusiasm. Jessica hands her scanner to the Blue Jen. He taps it once with one of his mighty fingers and hands it back to Jessica. Jessica exhales softly, gives the Blue Jen a knowing look, asks both as she holds up a glowing golden hand of healing, "Any insights.?" The Queen smiles slightly, looks at the Blue Jen, says in her normal standard tone in the link, "We will assist." Jessica goes to Whnny, says and asks, "I'm Jessica, doctor of sorts, if it's still OK, I'd like to start your new arrival's medical, standard processing and procedure . Whinny's eyes go wide, and she looks away, says in a small telepathic link voice, "Whinny is not high born, does not deserve the attention of the Monarch." Jessica chuckled, gently massaged Whinny's neck, says in a quiet, kind gentle voice, "That's a great sign, you remember me, very important first step." Jessica gestures towards the newly arrived Spirit, then the Queen and Blue Jen, continues in the same tone, "We follow no protocols along those lines, we, all of us, we take care of everything and each other." Jessica chuckled, gestures towards the Blue Jen, says in a slightly humorous manner of speaking, "The seats on the thrones in the thrones room, very hard and uncomfortable, big time uncomfortable" Jessica continues her massage, holds up her medical hand scanner, asks, "OK if we get started. Whinny nays a bit, nods." Jessica gestures towards MaryAnn, Bonnie, and Katie, says in a friendly voice, give us a quick minute to check things out. Those three are the best cooks in any universe. " Whinny whinnys nods her head. Xena smiles warmly, asks Whinny, "Are you comfortable?" Is there something you always wanted, anything you need." Whinny puzzles, puffed her nose, glanced at the Queen, with sadness in her big brown eyes, asks Xena in the link, "Is it known if Whinny's beautiful master and much loved husband and of wonderful children, are they in the high pasture.?" The Queen was instantly at Whinny's and Xena's side, gently brushes Whinny's head, looks at Xena says a soft tone in a private telepathic link. "The high pasture the child is referring to is the equivalent of your Elysium fields." The Queen says to Whinny, "Yes, they are there, all together." Xena's skin tone goes ashen, exhales softly, looks at Whinny, says in a knowing tone of voice as she gestures in the general direction of the nursery. "We have developed a saying that helps us through the dark times loss, the loss you have mentioned, we all have felt that pain, the phrase is simple, "Somehow, someday somewhere, love brings all families back together, they may not necessarily actually know you, you will know them, it's going to be a very lively conversation, we have to be strong enough to get to the point of that wonderful reunion." Whinny nays, squints, puzzles, looks at nothing, then the Queen, asks in a curious slightly worried and confused tone of voice, "What is Whinny, strange thoughts, before the before, was Whinny different.?" The Queen nods, gently places her hands on Whinny's head, the soft sounds of orgasmic transformative pulsating surging energies are heard, the Queen says in her normal standard tone of voice that Whinny hears in her ears, mind and soul, "As you were before the before, those around you are now, Whinny is a beautiful jennie, Whinny feel in love with her beautiful master, Whinny did what all jennies do, followed her heart, became her masters wife, all this happens long before this here was here, those around you are very special, as you can become, do you remember our conversation.?" Whinny nods, lowered her head, naying in slight confusion, says in the link, "Whinny remembers, some Whinny recognized, some, Whinny had never seen." Buffy chuckled, looks at Whinny, says in a knowing tone of voice, "Sweetie, it's all about choices, there's a lot in this universe that really probably didn't exist last time you where here, you don't have to make any choices, decisions untill you are ready and fill much better, to be completed honest with you, I'm and this sexy beautiful very young Altered Amazon She-Hulk jennie are from the city, don't hold that against us, you need to learn about us so you can be completely comfortable with your "Possible Possibilities". Buffy chuckled, gestures towards the smiling Willow, says in a knowing matter of fact fact friendly tone, "We would love to learn more about you." A slightly glassy eyed confused Denise joined the conversation, puzzled as she looked at Whinny, chuckled slightly as she began to gently scratch Whinny's ears, Denise puzzled again, Willow says in a knowing tone of voice, "You're not seeing things." Denise clears her throat, noticed Buffy standing nearby, says to Whinny as she gestures towards Buffy, "I think we have a certain knucklehead in common" T.B.C.