Whatever Happened to Scott? (Flashback Friday)

 I have been quite gentle recently so here's a mean one for all you sadists out there. This is a flashback to Blood Honey.

Friday is here once more so let's take a look see at who is a getting a light reshone on their femme fate this week. Scott was a mob hitman and over his illustrious career he silenced many a target for the notorious kingpin, 'The Don', however, upon announcing his retirement as his boss's favourite marksman, Scott too found himself silenced, albeit somewhat differently. Instead of riding off into the sunset, he awoke to find that his former employer had repurposed his pension towards transforming him into one of the Don's glamorous poolside escorts. Let's see how retirement is treating Scott, shall we...

Scott gazed up from his kneeling position at the assault rifles pointing down at him and slowly raised his hands behind his head. He had looked down plenty of gun barrels in his long career but never anything like this. The South California sunshine felt sweltering from inside his fur jacket and the asphalt bit into his knees even through the leather of his thigh high boots. With his arms raised he felt completely exposed and crowds of onlookers stopped to gape at his sexy feminine body in the virginal white bathing suit – the designer one-piece stretched tight over his smooth crotch. Scott took one last look at the SWAT team surrounding him and cast his eyes to the ground in shame.

That fateful afternoon was the first time Scott had been outside the Don's compound in over four years. After waking up in his own surgically enhanced personal nightmare, he quickly found out that his body hadn't been repurposed into a wet dream for mere aesthetic pleasure. No, the Don had bigger plans. A small fortune had exchanged hands to turn Scott into a sun-bleached babe with killer tits and a pretty pussy and the mobster was damn sure going to get his money's worth. As such Scott would join the ranks of the Don's private army of silent hookers kept on hand to satisfy the needs of guests and to pay the occasional bribe when needed. Stripped of his former physical prowess, Scott was easily kept in check by the mob's bodyguards and a constant slew of potent cocktails. Provided only with a poolside cabana and a wardrobe of revealing swimwear, he was expected to be available to satisfy any number of his captor's associates with his mouth, ass or brand new pussy and when after months of constant use they became stretched and raw, he was sedated for a visiting surgeon to tighten him back up. The days after these procedures were always the worst – his enhanced body parts hugging mafia cock tighter and more painfully that ever before. These were the days that simply would not fade into the drug induced blur.

It was one of these days of heightened awareness that the Don's compound was raided by a SWAT team. In the firestorm of swirling bullets, Scott found himself running out into the street along with dozens of others of his former employer's creations. He didn't get more than a few hundred yards down the street when he was met by two heavily armed agents who seemed to know exactly who he was.

"You know that is the formidable Switchblade Jones?" The first agent nodded to his partner as they watched Scott raise his hands above his head. "He doesn't look so tough now... Hey, you reckon he'll end up in a men's or women's prison? I guess it doesn't matter. Looking like that he'll be plenty popular either way..."