A week passed until most of the reporters went away. Some attempted to take illegal pictures inside the property but Jack’s security team caught them with infrared-detecting drones and called the cops. A dozen lawsuits were opened and the media companies gave up as interest died down.
As expected, the FBI pinned the blame on the terrorist attacks on Catherine’s assailant and, in Agatha’s words, “shoved the title VIII of the Patriot Act up his ass.” He was transferred to a maximum-security federal penitentiary and could face the death penalty. What was really important was that he would not get out of jail anytime soon. Or at all. The two soul-tenants of Catherine’s body weren’t worried about that. They were more concerned with keeping Mrs. Wallenstein from drinking again and surviving the infernal repo man.
None of that had any place in Cat’s mind as she admired her new body in front of a mirror. She made poses and faces, getting used to her new figure. During this week, she tried almost all of Catherine’s wardrobe, learning more about fashion than she cared for from the ghost in her head. Wearing a short dress, she tried to spin around to see if she could lift the skirt enough to see her own panties. It happened.
“Told you,” she poked her tongue at the mirror. “Let’s put some weights along the rim.”
“The Railgun does that,” she replied about the eponymous anime character.
“She wears shorts in the novels too.”
“How do we solve this uplifting problem, then?”
“But the blog said to put small weights in the rim of the skirt.”
Cat stared at the mirror and made funny faces, mocking Catherine’s words until she cracked down laughing.
“Fine, you win. I’ll behave like the prim and proper princess of Englewood Cliffs should.”
Catherine shouted as she noticed the changes in Cat’s body. The girl removed her dress, exposing her underwear to the mirror. She held her breasts over the bra, pushing them together in the middle. Her excitement grew and her body answered in kind. Soon, she removed the underwear as well, examining herself in close detail. She turned around the waist to check her butt and then separated her legs to get a frontal view of her shaved slit.
“Your Highness,” she mumbled to herself. “What gorgeous crown jewels you got here.”
Catherine commented.
“Not yet. I am sure the government is tracking everything we do here. All our web traffic is being monitored. I don’t want the feds to know I’m shopping for dildos.”
“I think we’ll have to make do with what we already got here,” she looked around and went to the bathroom. On the counter, she got a cylindrical hairbrush she thought was suitable as a replacement for the goods they couldn’t purchase.
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Cat rolled her eyes. “I’ll just wash it after I’m done.”
“I’m not going down that rabbit hole.” She held the brush in her hand and smirked. “This brush, however, will.”
“Anything is a dildo if a girl is brave enough,” Cat joked.
Cat made a confused face. “Why would it hurt? I’m going to lubricate the brush properly before… Wait. Please tell me you weren’t thinking I was going to use the bristle side.”
The girl laughed. “No. You use the handle, silly. See how this one has a round bottom? It’s just perfect.”
Her promise to take the hairbrush’s virginity was dashed by the sound of sirens. The window of Catherine’s bedroom faced the backyard so he had to put her clothes back on to go see what happened.
----------------------------------------
A daring reporter crossed the creek, trespassing into the backyard but was caught by the sensor net Jack’s team had deployed. As she peered behind the curtains of the office window, the man was being handed over to the police by the security staff, giving his fellow reporters much-needed fuel to justify their presence. Before the patrol vehicle left, her phone rang. Agatha was calling.
“I saw it on social media. You should post a picture of the trespasser and lament the invasion of your family’s privacy. We are already filing lawsuits for defiant trespassing against him and his media outlet. It won’t amount to much but it is basically free money. It’ll help ease your outstanding bills with us.”
Rothman & Sullivan was an expensive law firm. But Cat thought she got more than she paid for.
“Thanks, Agatha. Say, do you have any news from Oliver?”
“Yes!” The lawyer squealed. “He was moved to a standard room and will wake up soon, the doctors said. His recovery was almost as miraculous as yours, except he didn’t break every single bone on his body.”
“That’s great!” Cat said.
“And somehow you aren’t half as excited as I expected,” Agatha said with a flat tone, then pressured, “You knew it would happen, didn’t you?”
Cat sucked in a huge breath. This was going to hurt, “Agatha, are you on the clock now?”
“Yes, why?”
“Bill this call. I am invoking my client-lawyer secrecy privilege. Look, I knew Oliver would recover but I am not at liberty to discuss the methods as it involves several third parties. Had I their permission to talk about it, I would gladly tell you as I consider you not only a great lawyer and an expert on social media but my personal friend as well. Besides, this call is being monitored as I’m sure the government wiretapped my phone.”
That was the reason she started the speech with the secrecy privilege, although applicability was questionable. The government could do whatever they damn wanted anyway. Even tear the constitution into confetti, Cat ruefully concluded.
“I understand and appreciate your sentiment, Catherine. Sorry, I wasn’t professional.”
“Hey!” Cat protested. “Yes, you weren’t professional but you were asking not as my lawyer but as a friend, both Oliver’s and mine. It’s okay to worry, Agatha. I like to know there are people out there worrying about me and those I care about.”
“Don’t make me cry, you’re going to ruin my makeup!”
“Use some of those dollars I’m paying you to buy better stuff, then!”
They both laughed. “Post that message now. If possible, show that your property has a fence and is clearly marked as off-limits.”
“Okay! Bye, Agatha.”
They hung up and Cat felt fur against her legs. Mr. Mouser wanted some cuddles. She bent down and rubbed the cat’s back, making him purr and clung tightly to her. She picked him up and went to look for her mother. Mrs. Wallenstein was in the living room, peeking from behind a curtain.
“Hey, mom,” Cat called as she approached.
Mrs. Wallenstein threw an arm over the girl’s shoulder, “This is ridiculous. Why can’t they let us live our lives?”
Cat shrugged and readjusted Mr. Mouser in her arms. “Because our lives are juicier than average? Because people love to see those above them fall? Basically, schadenfreude. Come, let’s get away from the window or they might find us out here.”
“I don’t want to live as a prisoner,” the anxious matron protested.
She tried to hug her mother but the cat got squeezed between the women and protested. “Oops. Sorry, my cuddly baby,” she said, mimicking what Catherine would say. “Yes, mom. It sucks but there’s not much we can do.”
“Catherine, I… I got an invitation to appear on a TV show. They want to interview me. What should I do?”
“Do you want to go?”
“Yes, I think so.”
She closed her eyes and pondered. “Would you accept the help of an advisor? It’s Agatha, the lawyer girl Oliver hired to help me with social media issues. If you’re with Agatha, I’ll have no objections.”
“If it will put your mind at ease, yes. I’m looking forward to meeting this girl you talk so much about.”
Another phone call and she got Agatha on board with helping Mrs. Wallenstein with her interview. Cat knew the woman needed to socialize or it would damage her mental health. She tried to keep herself from wondering what could go wrong but it was too late. She knew she’d jinxed it and started to worry.