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Nurse Jackal	By : drjackal Category: +G to L > Get Backers Views: 3987 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Get Backers, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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The girls dragged poor, unwilling Akabane to the back of
the store and into a room marked "private sessions only" in brilliant
silver paint. He tried to plant his feet, but the sandals he was wearing had
absolutely no grip to them whatsoever. If it hadn't been for the security
cameras� He still didn't understand why he couldn't break free of their grip
and run, though. They had holds on him like pro-wrestlers, but he should have
been able to get free. He'd broken better holds than theirs before.

"Let's see," the cop said, running a finger
along her lips. "I like the 'chick in men's clothes' thing you've got
going on, and this is a gorgeous coat. I don't like the fact that it fits you
like you were wearing your older brother's Goth clubbing gear," she said,
walking around him.

The other girl, dressed as a nurse, giggled. "Look
at the size of that bust line! Some girls would kill for that, you know. Why
are you hiding it?!" He crossed his arms stiffly over his chest, not
liking the way they were walking around him like a pair of vultures. Time to
make a break for it, he thought. He lunged forward, only to discover that since
he'd become female� his center of balance had shifted. He fell forward, only to
end up in the arms of the cop.

"What's your analysis, Anita?"

"I think you know my analysis, Tomoko," the
nurse said back. "Off with her clothes!"

Their hands were all over him like tentacles, pulling.
The safety pins holding his shirt popped with their effort. "Stop
it!" he demanded, fighting against them, but again finding it as though he
had strangely been drained of all his strength. "I need those."

"Not anymore, you won't," the one named Anita
said, throwing the shirt aside.

"What if you do not have anything I like?" he
asked as the one named Tomoko busied herself with trying to force his pants
off.

"We'll find something you can wear; you just watch
us!"

"What if I can not afford it," he asked,
struggling against them as Anita started helping with the pants.

"Don't worry about it; you've got a credit card,
don't you?" Anita laughed, waving his wallet. He lunged for it, but Tomoko
had her arms around his chest and was pinning him in place.

"I can go to the cops about this. This is
robbery," he protested, wishing his strength would hurry up and return if
a girl in a cop uniform could keep him pinned in place. He wriggled, trying to
free himself from her iron grip. That was it. He did not care if there were
security cameras; he was going to take care of them. He ejected several
scalpels from his hand� only for them to go clattering to the ground when he
could not get a decent grip on them. He looked at his hands in shock. Shorter,
thinner fingers� not the fingers his blades had been specifically designed for.

Anita picked up the scalpels. "Medical supplies,
huh? I think we can do something for you after all," she purred.
"Quick, Miki! Get those ugly clothes out of here!" she ordered. The
guy standing outside snatched up the discarded clothing and ran with it.

"You had better give my things back�" Akabane
threatened.

"Don't worry, you'll get them back. Although I don't
know what you'd want them, after we finish dressing you up," she smirked.

"Look, the poor thing is even wearing men's
underwear," Tomoko sighed. "We really need to give you the works, don't
we?" she asked, removing the offending garments.

He crossed one arm over his feminine chest and stuck the
other one between his legs. "Have you no respect for my decency?" he
asked, his voice raised in anger.

The two looked at him and grinned. "Nope, none
whatsoever!" they replied in unison.

He paused. "Are you two�Americans?"

"How did you guess?" Anita asked.

"I was raised there, but I moved back here to open
this shop!" Tomoko smiled.

Akabane rolled his eyes. "How in the world did I
ever guess?" he asked, shivering. Being completely naked in a public shop
had not been on his list of things to do, and being the quiet and reserved
type, he did not like showing himself to anyone even when in his male body. In
this strange body, he especially did not like it.

"Look at those hips� that chest� that hair� the
face� who does she remind you of?"

"A certain famous bondage model who happens to be
dating a certain infamous rock star?" Tomoko asked, smiling. Akabane had
no clue who they were talking about, and didn't care enough to ask.

"Let's try a corset then!"

"Would not it make sense to do underwear
first?" Akabane asked, still covering himself� as he refused to think of
himself as a herself no matter what� with his hands.

"A corset is underwear," Anita insisted,
pushing strands of blue hair out of her eyes. "Move your arms!" she
demanded, wrapping a sheet of vinyl around his� her?...
middle and tightening it. "Tomoko, help me with this!"

The girls yanked on the vinyl and metal device, causing
poor Akabane to let out a gasp. "How does it feel?"

"I can not breathe," he protested, tugging at
the buckles on the front of what appeared to be a plastic torture device.

"You can still breathe enough to talk.
Tighter!" Tomoko joked, binding the laces in their places.

"I do not like it," Akabane complained. It has
pushed his chest up to the point where he was afraid he might drown in his own
flesh if he looked down.

"You need it to support those knockers. Your back
can't do it alone," Anita informed him, slapping him in a highly
inappropriate way.

"I do not like it, take it off," Akabane
complained for a second time.

"Spoil sport," she said, undoing the laces and
letting it fall off. Akabane took a gasp of air. He'd never appreciated being
able to breath quite so much before. "Fine, if you want to go with a
traditional bra and panties, I guess we don't mind if you're boring." She
took out a measuring tape and wrapped it around his chest, causing him to jerk
a bit. Her hands were cold, and he didn't like them on his body, let alone
tender bodily parts. The girl whistled. "I'm going to need a 91 and a
half, D," she called to Tomoko, who had disappeared out into the other
room.

91 and a half? That wasn't right. He normally had a 102
centimeter chest, at the least, and his chest had gotten bigger since the
incident. "I think you should measure that again," he informed her.
"That can not possibly be the right size. My chest is much larger than
that."

"I've been fitting bras for years; I know my
stuff." She had her measuring tape around his hips. "I had a talent
scout come in and tell me to call him if I ever ran into a girl with your
measurements. I'll give you his phone number."

"No thank you," Akabane snapped, getting
frustrated with the girls. If he weren't completely naked, he was certain he
would have figured out how to hold his scalpels even if it wasn't the way he
was used to.

"Here, put this on," she said, pushing
something into his hands. He looked down at it.

"I can see right through it."

"So?"

"I prefer undergarments that are not
transparent."

"At least try the fit on before you complain,"
Anita chastised, rolling her eyes. She watched him fumbling with it, and then
let out another loud sigh, grabbing it away from him and putting it on him
herself. "Where in the world do you come from, chests like those and not
even knowing how to put a bra on? There, good fit, isn't it?"

"It does not hurt, if that is what you are
asking," he answered, looking down. "I still would prefer less
transparent under garments. What is the purpose of wearing them under anything
if I can see right through them?"

"We'll get you something else in a minute, try these
panties on first."

He held up the first pair. "I do not do thongs. Not
in the past, not now, not ever," he informed the girls, throwing the first
pair aside. "Something is wrong with this pair�"

"They're supposed to be crotch less," Anita
said, rolling her eyes. He looked up at them, confused.

"Then� what is the purpose of wearing underwear if
it's not covering anything?"

"What a boring girl you are," Anita yawned.
"No wonder you were wearing ill fitting men's clothes."

Boring? If there was one thing Akabane hated being
described as, it was boring. "I am not boring," he insisted. "I
merely dislike everything you have shown me."

"If
you dislike everything in our store, why did you come in here in the first
place?"

"I
liked the trench coat in the window."

Anita's
eyes lit up. "Ah, now we're getting somewhere! I think we can work with
this girl, after all." She put an arm around his shoulders. "Let's
cut a deal, cuteness. You take the transparent bra and the panties that match
it, and I'll get the coat and a nice white business shirt and tie to go with it
for you without a fuss. I'll even give you a discount price."

He
looked suspiciously at her. "What were you thinking I should wear for
pants?"

"Pants?
No, no. Look at those legs! How can you NOT wear a skirt?" Anita asked,
flailing her arms in the general direction of his legs to emphasize her point.

"My
job is not conducive to wearing
skirts," he informed her, eyes still narrowed in hostility.

Tomoko
threw up her manicured hands. "Hey, the customer is always right. Even
when she's wrong, that is. At least get some pants that flatter those pretty
legs!"

When
I find the person that did this to me, Akabane thought, the very first thing I
am going to do is force them to come into this shop. Regardless of their
gender. Then I will kill them.

Finally
dressed, Akabane was more than ready to leave. "I will be paying and going
now�" he informed them, edging towards the door. The pants were far too
tight for his preference, but he didn't want to go through the trauma of
finding a different pair. Especially after the two vicious girls had
essentially clothes lined him to the floor, grabbed him by the ankles, and then
took fifteen minutes to force the pair he was currently wearing onto his body.
If that gave any indication of exactly how tight they were, that was. He was
secretly thankful that they were not retrievers; if they had abilities beyond
annoyingness and strong sales pitch they would be truly lethal enemies, but not
the kind he enjoyed fighting.

"Where
do you think you're going with only those ratty sandals?" the girls asked,
continuing to pin him down by his arms. If had, had an ounce less self-control
he might have broke into tears. The fact that he couldn�t seem to break away
from them was also doing nothing for his self-esteem at the moment.

"Oh,
and don't button your shirt up all the way," the Anita one said, tearing
open the top of the shirt all the way down to the bra line. "It's sexier
this way."

He
just hoped he would find these girls in a dark alley after he'd regained his
masculine body. He would not just slice their backs with Js. That was much,
much too good for these girls. He would rip out their intestines and make them
into fashionable scarves, then dance in their disemboweled corpses until his
shoes turned a sexy red with their blood. Perhaps he would even flay off their
skin and use it to make himself another trench coat. He was willing to bet
their tattoos would look lovely as coat details.

Those
mental images, at least, made the fact that they forced fifty pairs of shoes
that he couldn't even stand up in on him before finally letting him have a
"boring" pair of flat heeled boots. Had it not been for the arrival
of another customer to torment, thankfully, they had been full scale intent on
forcing make-up and a haircut on him. The man, who seemed to be just a prop in
the store, took his credit card while they essentially body checked the other
pair of girls who had the unfortunate luck of wandering into the store, which
Akabane only noticed as he was paying, as appropriately named the "The Venus
Fly Trap."

As
soon as he was out of the store, he immediately buttoned the shirt completely
back up. He had a lot more things on his plate than worrying about being
'sexy'. He checked to make sure they'd put all his regular clothes back in his
bag, even though he knew that he didn't have the strength left after that day
to risk the mental trauma that would accompany going back into the store.
Fortunately, it was all there, and he found himself walking so quickly away
from the horrible place that he was giving himself blisters with his new shoes.
A pity to have spent so much money on clothes he wouldn't be able to wear
anymore as soon as he found the person responsible, but he considered it ransom
money. He hadn't paid for the clothes; he'd paid for the privilege of escaping
the grip of those two high-heeled demons.

Bedraggled
and exhausted from the day, Akabane dragged himself to the bar. Essentially, he
was taking things one stop at a time at that point. The girls, whose names
would be forever etched into the depths of his mind, had taken more out of him
than he'd imagined.

He
managed to pull himself up to the bar and rather unceremoniously flop himself
into his usual spot at the counter. The tender looked over at him, making an
interested sound.

"Seeing
you this uncomposed is unusual, Doctor Jackal," he commented. Akabane
lifted his head, displeased expression written across his face. In the process,
he lifted his body up enough so that the tender got an interesting view. "Oh!
I'm sorry. You looked just like someone else I know�"

Akabane
folded his arms uncomfortably over the bulk of his chest. "And who, pray
tell, do I remind you of?"

The
tender blinked, cocking his head in confusion. "Dr. Jackal? Is that you under there?" At least, Akabane
thought, his voice was close enough that it could be recognized. Other than the
fact that his contacts still fit, it was the only thing about him that had
apparently not changed too drastically. "Did you lose a bet or
something?" the tender asked.

Akabane
ignored the question. "The person who was sitting next to me last night,
the one that I commented looked as though they were trying to be a Final
Fantasy mage. Who was that?"

"I
don't know; never seen 'em before. Are they the reason you've got water
balloons down your shirt?"

"You
could say that. I am going to ask around and see if anyone knows who that
was." He held up the shopping bag containing his usual clothes. "Hold
my bag for me."

As he
started pushing away from the bar, the tender stopped him. "There's no
time for that now. You have clients waiting," the tender said, gesturing to
a back booth with a jerk of his head. "You'd better take those things off
before you go to meet with them, though."

Akabane
easily brushed the tender's hand from his shoulder. "I can handle this
situation on my own." He walked over to the clients, head held high with
as much of his old pride and posture as possible.

"Fortunately,
they were not clients he had worked with before. He slid into the booth and
pushed his business card at them. The two men looked down at the card, then
disbelievingly up at him. "You're Doctor Jackal?" one asked, his
voice incredulous.

"Do
you have some reason to doubt?" he asked coldly, glaring at their
sunglass-concealed eyes.

One
of the men removed his glasses. "I do apologize, but we were under the
impression that you were� a man," he said, glancing over at his partner.

"Does
this change the offer you were going to make any?" he asked, replying with
a question. He suspected that he was coming to understand the cryptic message
he'd received on his phone. Only once he understood the difficulty of being a
female transporter, he guessed, would he be given his male body back.

The
two men glanced at one another again before looking back at Akabane. He
distinctly noticed that their return glance was not on his face. "No� of course not� we've just never hired a woman transporter
before."

"I
assure you, it is no more painful than hiring a male."

"What
we need you to do is a double transport. You will take a package to a location
we will disclose to the driver we have hired There,
you will exchange the package with another one and bring the second package
back to me to get paid. The interceptors are interested in that second package.

"I
take it the standard contract and wages will apply?" he asked.

"Of course."

"Then
I will accept your offer."

They
handed him a folded sheet of computer paper. "Meet at this address at the
time specified tomorrow night. Your driver will be waiting for you."
Akabane studied the paper after their departure. It was a boring job, not
likely to bring him much enjoyment, but if he had to take it in order to get
his male body back, he would do so.

There
was one more stop he had yet to make that night, since he had accepted the job. He picked up his
phone and dialed a number that even his female fingers knew all too well.
"I'm closed now," a sleepy voice grunted when the other end picked
up.

"Even
to your favorite customer?" Akabane asked, voice
smooth.

"Akabane-san! I hadn't expected you to call again so
soon." He made a tsk sound over the line.
"I told you, using your blades on bone too often will dull them
faster."

"I
need a full set of knives made before tomorrow night, but I need them in a
different size than you usually provide me with. Before you complain, I will
pay you twice your usual fee out of gratefulness.

The
Artist sighed. "How quickly can you be here?"

"You
know me. I will be behind you in a moment."

He
walked over to the Artist's studio, noticing that the air was misty and
threatened a storm, perhaps one with lightning and thunder. He smiled. If only
the Thunder Emperor could see him now. He'd wet his little white briefs.
Unfortunately, though, little Ginji-kun always traveled with the pugnacious Midou Ban. That man would never let him live the situation
down, and he wasn't quite sure that the shocked look on Ginji-kun's face was
worth the verbal abuse.

The
Artist, a man who crafted weapons like an artist at a canvas, ran his hands
over Akabane's new fingers. "Thinner, shorter, less veiny," he cooed.
"Beautiful fingers. This will call for a more
delicate blade, with a different optimal balance point." He started
sketching. "Classic shape and ceramic again?"

"Of
course," Akabane nodded. "I am a man of simple, classic tastes."

The
Artist grinned. "I will have them in time for you to cut your dinner meat
with them." He glanced over at Akabane's body, smiling. "If you
decide to keep that body, I could use a model for my catalogue of new
creations."

"As
much as I appreciate your work and your vision, I am afraid I will have to
decline your offer," Akabane answered, sliding his gloves back on. He'd
seen what the models of the Artist's work were required to do, and he had no
intent of making love to the barrel of a gun.

He
began the trek home after leaving the Artist's place on higher alter than usual. Not due to fear that his female shape
might invite violence, but because the scalpels that were currently too big for
his hands lowered his attack accuracy. At least, after taking out his
frustrations on a few of the Artist's testing mats, he'd managed to get the
hang of holding onto them without dropping anything.

A man
resting on a bench whistled, which Akabane ignored. He was still worn down from
the day, and he hadn't had time to eat at the bar, resulting in his stomach
rumbling. He yawned and stretched as he removed his keys from an inner pocket
in the coat. He was thankful for the inner pockets. Even if the pants had, had
pockets they were too tight to have possibly put anything in the pockets.

Of
course, his first and foremost urgent need: the bathroom. He had been holding
it since he'd left the store for fear that he wouldn't be able to get the pants
back on. Now that he would home, he could finally go. It took a good ten
minutes to get the pants off, after which he discovered that he'd gotten better
of not making a mess all over the toilet seat or himself, as being female was
less point and shoot than being male.

He
curled up on his mat and rested, storing his energy for the next day.
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Nurse Jackal