The BLTS Archive - China Town
Or: The Case Of The Missing Heir
Or: The Case Of The Missing Hair
Or: The Case Of The Missing Hare
fourth in the China series
by R.Schultz (cousindream@aol.com)

---

Disclaimer: Trek-universe belongs to ViaBorgCom, and I'm just making
fun with Trek, not money and they all go back happy.

Story mine under common-law copyright.  June 1st, 2001.  7900 words.

Spoilers: After my own "China Rose", fourth of the "China" series.

Warning: Love and lust between (fictional) adults, both male and
female is favorably presented in this story.  If this makes your power
conduit spring a leak, why not seek elsewhere for reading pleasure?
No one underage according to USA or local law may enter here.  Neither
may those whose country or locale legally declares TrekSmut something
it believes you shouldn't read.  Your government, after all, is very,
very, very, very, very wise and knows just exactly what you should or
should not read.  Goodbye. You won't be missed.

Posted to the Doctor Fuh-Q Fest, later to ASC*.  May be archived, but
please notify.

---

"Relax and enjoy yourself, Worf." I coaxed.  "its going to be a load
of fun."

Deanna Troi looked assured as well, and if I know anything about a
certain Betazoid's effect on Klingons, that meant he was about to
allow himself to be convinced.  Worf is a sucker for a pretty
humanoid, even if he thinks he's not.

Actually Worf looks outrageously dreamy in that double-breasted suit.
Period costume becomes him.  Wearing a pin-striped brown 1939-period
suit, all you see at first is a wide expanse of impeccably attired
chest that seems to fill half the room.  The dark blue handkerchief in
his coat pocket was simply the finishing touch.

Troi carefully tilted his brown fedora on his head to give him a more
rakish look.  He was perfect as the muscle.

"When does this HoloDrama begin?" he asked.

"its already started," I replied.  Smashing!  I thought I looked
glorious in a white polka-dot dress and a stiff beret with a veil.
Call me Barbara Crawford.  Or was that Barbara Stanwyck and Joan
Crawford?  Apply a little more outrageously red lip gloss, and pull my
dress down again.  It kept pulling up to where everyone could see the
where my black hose hung from my garter belt straps. Maybe that was
the way it was supposed to act.

Troi was wearing black and blue-black to stunning effect.  Her satin
skirt was slit to where her hip showed a tease of her panty. A little
shell of a hat on her head also held a small veil.  I'd never realized
she was capable of -- allure.  Not to the extent she was displaying
it.

She was supposed to be the murderous criminal reformed by Dixon Hill's
crusading spirit.  Now she was a force for good, even if she looked
like she'd like to see what the entire San Francisco fire department
might have been capable of getting up on some weekend night.

Me?  I was Dixon Hill's noble reporter and slightly flaky and whacky
girl friend.  Or something like that.  I wondered if wanting to jump
the bones of everyone present made me slightly flaky or slightly
whacky.  So much research to do.

The Receptionist was out, evidently for lunch.  I had Worf keep his
hat on and sit behind Dixon Hill's magnificently sturdy real wood
desk.  I wondered which drawer the bourbon was in.

Before I could begin searching the door was flung open.  A-HA!, I
thought.  Now I knew why the Receptionist was gone.

It was a totally black figure, its sides and shape wavering a little
in the breeze.  Two cut-out eyes appeared under the hat, darting from
side to side.  its two arms were widespread as if to embrace all of
us in the room.  It didn't seem to have sleeves or coat bottom: Just a
single unified profile.

A sibilant voice rang in the air as he asked us; "Which one of you is
Dixon Hill?  I desperately need to hire his assistance."

"Do any one of us look like Dixon Hill?", Deanna asked.

"Well," the figure continued, "Dixon Hill might be a cross-dresser.
And if he is, he's very authentic, and how does he feel about a date
this Friday night?"  Looking from Deanna to me.

Worf was unhappy and he wasn't sure why.  "Maybe I am Dixon Hill," he
pointed out.  The figure looked up and shook his head.

"A detective the size of youse would be on the regular force.  You
just so much as enter the sweat room and there ain't nuttin' but the
calls of song birds in the air.

He winked at me.  "A private eye the size of the doll here would be
used to using his brains instead of his brawn."  He sidled over to me.
"Ya know a cross-dresser that's as good as you might be, I'd bet he's
plenty smart too.

"Ya know, I know this nice roadhouse north of the bridge, trees and
quiet and a good view of the Bay.  They got a few bungalows in the
back, too."

I still couldn't see his face, but his eyebrows were arching.  "I told
you I'm not Dixon Hill," I coldly replied.

"No," he pointed out, "youse didn't.  But it'd be sure nice if ya
was."  He must have understood my expression because he backed to the
doorway again.

"Okay," he said, "I'll go along with youse.  Dixon Hill isn't here, so
I'll leave a message for him.  The message is...."

At that moment automatic weapons fire broke out.  Worf was showered
with window frame and glass shards and our mysterious guest suddenly
had ten or twelve holes in him.  No wounds.  Oval holes completely
through him, showing the reception area beyond. No bleeding, no bits
of person spattering the walls, no messy corpse. Just those large and
clean-cut holes in him.  Immediately his eyes became cross marks and
he fell to the floor.

I rushed over to him, pulling his dark hat off.  Beneath lay an
oriental man with buck teeth, obviously dying in great pain, if the
spasms racking him meant anything.  Well, he wasn't exactly a man.

"Beverly," Troi asked, once she had gotten to the side of the
oriental, "What the hell sort of an alien is this?  He's got gaping
holes in him that are perfectly clean-cut and he doesn't seem quite
... real."

"He's a 'Toon," I explained.  "A cartoon character from the golden age
of 'Toon's, back in the mid-20th century.  We're in a 'Toon
HoloProgram, one that I didn't even know Jean-Luc had.  We are not
going to interact with the usual villains and perpetrators, but with
Cartoon Characters."

Waving my arm around.  "And this is still the usual beginning for a
Dixon Hill mystery.  Just before the Mysterious Stranger can tell us
what all this is about, he dies in front of Dixon Hill. After that
its up to Dixon Hill to find the murderer and solve the mystery."

The victim was still spasming, so I presumed he had something yet to
say.  I leaned close to his lips and he patted my rear.  "This lowly
servant has profoundly failed in his simple duties."  Oh great, now he
had a fake-Chinese accent.  There still wasn't any blood or gore on
the floor.

*Cough*, *Cough*, the Chinaman said.  Dying coughs, of course. "We
have three possible thieves, they have stolen the most precious thing
in China Town, we are missing our hareire."  The last word was rather
botched.  But it was still plain enough.  The Chinese community was
Missing A Heir.

*Cough*, *Cough*, he continued.  "We have reason to believe one of the
three names on this list is the vicious criminal who could and did
perform this nefarious act."  Most of his accents were gone.

Then the dying cartoon character handed me a cartoon list.  When I
took it from him there was a stickiness, it didn't want to let go, but
it did.  Then I was holding a simple slip of paper.

His cartoon head hit the floor with a solid think, and his hand fell
away from my butt.  I'd say he was dead now.  He'd never had a pulse.

Worf was cautiously looking out the shattered window, but finding no
possible place where the automatic weapon fire might have come from.

"Oh, come ON, Worf," I said, "This is a Dixon Hill mystery.  Once the
assassin has shot his intended victim before he could inform us what
was going on, his task was done and we may never find out who the
machine-gunner was."

"What about the victim?", Worf asked.  "Should we not notify the
regular constabulary about the deceased - being - lying on our floor?"

"Not to worry, Worf," I corrected him.  "The Police will discover the
body, and since it is in Dixon Hill's office, they will blame him."
Worf looked confused.

"The Police will begin a manhunt for Dixon Hill, but since there is no
Dixon Hill in this Holoprogram, the manhunt will get nowhere.

"However, as loyal friends and associates of Dixon Hill, we shall seek
to clear his name as well as solve the mystery.  Are we all clear on
this?"  Deanna looked excited.  Worf still looked confused.

"Will not this damaged window attract undue attention?," he asked.
Poor Worf, he'll get into the spirit of the game eventually.

I took the slip of paper to the desk, where there was (of course) a
handy pad of paper, on which I copied the note two more times. It
should be easy for the Police to rub a pencil over the pad and
discover the three names.  Oh, this was such a lovely game!

Deanna and Worf got a copy of the list each, and I took the original.

"I'll take the first name and address, all of which I assume are in
Chinatown since the dead 'Toon was a Chinaman.  Worf, you'll take the
second name.  Deanna, would you please 'grill' the third suspect?"
Worf still looked confused.  I hoped he'd eventually get into the
spirit.  its only a game, and they've promised not to schedule to
begin any bizarre experiments today involving Data's brain interfacing
with the computer. It should be safe on the HoloDeck.

Deanna, on the other hand, was drooling.  Just a tiny.  She was eager
to begin the search for the Missing Hare.  Tally-Ho!

Nobody spends much time traveling while in a Dixon Hill Holoprogram,
'Toon version or otherwise.  Worf and Deanna will be at their
destinations in a minute, just like me.

---

I am not Deanna Troi, Betazoid ship's counselor.  I'm Night Mage,
former courtesan, murderer and casino owner.  Now I am Night Mage,
friend and ex-lover to Dixon Hill, private detective, unjustly wanted
by the Police for what's-his-names murder.  Yeah.  I got the story
straight. Yummy, yummy!  This is more fun than chocolate.

Well, maybe just a hair less.

China Town looked very Oriental, as it should.  The Cab had delivered
me at a seedy-looking and closed Import-Export shop. But there was a
side door and steps leading up, and I climbed to the next floor.

Upstairs a 'Toon Chinaman in a little cap and his hair in a long
Queue, awaited me.  He was holding a large silver weapon, like a
medieval ax. He directed me inside a badly-lit room where an odd
figure was sitting lotus, obviously waiting for me.

"Are you the honorable Melvin-The-Martian-San, leader of the honorable
and numberless Sons Of The Empire's Fearless Wielders of The Silver Ax
Tong, whose name alone strikes terror into the hearts of every small
and simple honest shop-owner in all of China Town? Whose appetite for
money is endless?"

He was a small totally-black stick 'Ton figure sitting on a large
pillow.  He was wearing a Greek hipline skirt and a large ornate Roman
helmet.  He had no visible face, save two large mobile eyes. The sort
which seemed the norm with 'Ton characters.

*Burp*  "Please pardon.  Pretty Lady like yourself can call me Melvin.
And its been decades since I was back to Mars.

"Pardon me again, but you would not believe the ulcer I have from
drinking those endless cups of tea, and listening to the whining from
the rich Shop Owners who want a Flat-Rate extortion instead of the
graduated one I have now, and the small Shop-Owners who figure they
give their daughters to me they can cop out on the extortion.

"Some of those daughters you wouldn't believe.  Heifers, and the B.O.
they got.  For this they should get their extortion tripled, not
reduced to nothing.

"And the Mia Jonah Parlors, too much extortion they say.  Everyone
wants the extortion to fall more evenly on the other guy and less on
themselves.

"Hey, as a Crime Lord and Master of an illegal evil Tong, we got our
problems too.

"You know how much a real silver ax runs?  Even Schwanxe, runs the
towel-and-tip concession in the men's room of the Utterly Grandiose
Imperial Restaurant, he figures we got to give him a damned silver ax.

"And those San Francisco cops, they always want a boost in their
pay-off rate, or they bust the Mai Jongh Parlors, those same schmoos
who think they're paying more than their share of the extortion
anyways as it is.

"You know much I get charged to run one measly little slave market
where we find good jobs for all those illegal immigrants?  I lose
money, now, but its tradition.  The Tong Leader runs a slave market,
what voice do I have in the matter?  None, that's what voice I got.

"its not really slave, you know, its only I got to use that title so
the newspapers can periodically decry and bemoan my little enterprise.
Some guy needing labor pays the shipping debt on this starving coolie
and the coolie gets to labor two or five years of whatever, for this
guy.  He gets three square a day, clothes, a mostly warm place to
sleep, and what do the reporters call me, I ask you?  Years later the
coolie is paid off, he speaks the language quite well now, he's
reasonable dressed instead of rags, and he's accustomed to ham and
eggs for breakfast.

"A couple years of bondage and he's an American now."

A young girl with a really bad case of acne came out and served me
some aromatic and foul tasteless tea.  'Toon tea, alas.

"So, Pretty Round-Eyed Lady, what is it I can do for you?  Or did you
come up here to be ravished by ten or twenty insatiable criminals of
the Tong? For you, I'd join in.  Last time I had to draft twelve of my
strongest youth's, telling them it was for the honor of the Tong, and
I'd marry them to one of my relatives if they didn't, and take their
silver axes back too."

There was an expectant pause, I supposed I was to join in now.

"I'm with the Dixon Hill Agency, sort of, I'm Dixon's girlfriend,
Night Mage, and I've got a problem.

"I have to solve the Case of the Missing Heir.  Did you kidnap anyone
lately?"

Silence.  Then: "First off, are you SURE you ain't Dixon Hill? I've
heard he cross-dresses like you wouldn't believe.  A real convincing
girly he is.  He's a red-head now I heard, but the hair could be
changed.

"Ya know, we could always retire to my Evil and Seditious Seduction
And Debauching Chamber for a few minutes or more of diligent research.
If you ARE Dixon Hill, maybe I could interest you in a date?  I own
this nice Roadhouse north of the Bridge. Plenty of trees, view of the
Bay, clean bungalows in back.

"Is that a real panty girdle?"

There was only one thing I could say in reply.  "Are you a REAL
Martian?  I didn't think there were any Chinese Martians?  Did you
know you're in danger of becoming extinct if you don't take your hand
off my knee?"

---

Worf walked the tall risers to the Low Phat Benevolent Chinamen's
Exercise, Fitness and Spiritual Oneness Club, Members Only.  A rather
seedy looking establishment, for all its size.  From the street you
could tell nothing of its purpose or intent.

Inside he stepped through a double door and entered a bizarre
paradise.  Silks trailed from the ceiling, and the walls were decked
with fabrics and vibrant primary colors.  To top it all off, rich
golden sunlight entered through the bifurcated dome above.

Worf retraced his steps.  Outside it was heavily overcast, possibility
of showers later in the day, certainty of fog in the coming morning.

Inside again the same as before.  Sunshine making the interior
glorious.  Through the clear glass dome he could see one tiny white
cloud in the far distance.

When he crossed a golden arc in the floor, a gigantic gong sounded
somewhere near.  Comely maidens in gauze pants came out and threw rose
petals onto the floor.  Worf slowly approached a high ornate stone
platform of a dozen or so steps.  Sitting on it was a pile of pillows
with a figure sitting lotus on the air, a foot above the pillows.
Worf was at a loss for words.

It looked like a black Duck with a band around his neck, wearing
jewels, necklaces, rings, a fancy red silk bolero, and a immensely
long Fu Manchu mustache and beard.  He was heavily made-up to appear
both sinister and Chinese.  But he was still a black Duck. Another
'Toon character, Worf decided.

When Worf put a foot on the first step, the Duck pulled a very
large-appearing hand weapon.  Four Orientals with large muscles and
larger drawn scimitars in their 'Toon hands appeared on either side.
Worf decided down on the floor was a superb vantage point from which
to talk to the Duck.

"Hold it right there, buster," the Duck said.  "You wouldn't BELIEVE
the number of people in China Town who would love to have Duck
Mandarin for supper tonight.

"Now whatta ya want?"

"I am Worf, muscle to the great Dixon Hill.  I am looking for the
Mighty Supreme All-Encompassing Magician of China Town.  I seek his
aid in recovering something lost.  I am an associate of Dixon Hill and
I seek only justice, nothing more."

"I am whom of which you seek, the holder of arcane secrets, diabolical
stratagems, a mighty talisman or three, and numerous captive demons.
I am also a CPA and my rates are quite reasonable.  I am none other
than the Splendiferous Shimmy Shimmy Koo-Koo Bop.  For the right fee I
will answer any question."  The duck looked sad.

*Sigh*  "I would have enjoyed Dixon Hill himself.  And you ain't
nuttin' like him, muscles.  I've been told Dixon is cross-dressed as a
sexy redhead right now.  Real convincing and sensual as hell. You sure
you couldn't send Dixon Hill down here?  He could sit on my lap and
I'd answer any little questions he has?  No?  Too bad.

"I'd consider a cut-rate fee if he went on a date with me.  I know
this Roadhouse north of the Bridge.  View of the bay, lots of trees, a
few bungalows in the back.  You got any pictures on you of Dixon Hill
in drag?  I like redheads."

Suddenly the duck looked like an aged and sinister Chinaman again.
"Tell me, Round-eye, what is your miserable query?  I may deign to
answer it."

Controlling his temper, Worf stated his quest.  "I am helping Dixon
Hill on the Case of the Missing Hair.  Do you know anything of this
matter?"

"Hair?  Hair????  HAIR????" the duck screamed.

He disappeared then re-appeared, much shaken this time.  "its gone,
my beautiful Magic Hair Coat is gone!"

Glaring at Worf, he asked a cold question of him.  "How come you knew
my Magic Hair Coat had been stolen before even I had?  My Magic Powers
might be lessened by this theft, but I must warn you they are still
sufficient to stuff you into a cologne bottle, seal it, and leave you
to enjoy Jean Nate for all eternity!"

Worf didn't know what a Jean Nate was, but he shivered anywise. It
sounded very, very bad the way the Duck said it.  Pardon. Shimmy
Shimmy Koo-Koo Bop.

"Maybe if you could describe this hair shirt, I could help you find
it.  I am an associate of Dixon Hill, after all, and we are accustomed
to finding lost things.  Even Hair Shirts."  Hoping that would stop
him from thinking of how he had become knowledgeable about the missing
hair thing.

"Hair coat, hair coat.  Beautiful knee- high full length black hair
coat, looked like black lambs wool.  In it, other than my own secret
blend of cotton, black lamb's wool and the pubic hairs of ninety-nine
Chinese maidens plucked at midnight, was the hair of The Buddha
hisself.  It was the pubic hairs that gave it that lovely gloss."

"How is it magic?"

"It gives protection from all harm to the wearer.  I can't be shot or
stabbed or none of that stuff."  Worf wondered why the hell the duck
hadn't been wearing it then.

"Even more importantly, rubbing an egg on it turns the egg golden, and
it gives good stock tips, though only on the American exchange. Any
time an IRS agent sees you wearing it, they agree with all your
deductions.  Oh yes, and it returns any woman who wears it to a virgin
state.  A few more things, but they're minor.

"+SOB+  And now its gone!"

Somehow the oriental duck was clutching Worf's coat and crying into
it.  Worf presumed the tears could harm the fabric, unlike modern
fabrics.

"You've got to help me get it back.  I loved that coat.  I'll pay
anything ... provided its not too unreasonable."

Worf carefully removed the duck, still trying to protect the fabric of
his coat.  "I believe there is a connection between your loss and a
'Toon character lying dead in the office of Dixon Hill. He must have
known your coat would be stolen.  Therefore the most efficacious thing
to do would be to pursue the thief.  I shall find my murderer in the
same person, I believe.  Do you have any suspects?"

The Duck spread wide his arms, or wings.  "Think of anyone in China
Town who'd like Duck Mandarin for supper.  But I've got a much smaller
list of villains who MIGHT have been able to steal my Coat of Hair.

First off is the Head of the Silver Ax Tong, a Chinese Martian named
Melvin."  Worf dutifully wrote it down, looking expectantly at Shimmy
Shimmy Koo-Koo Bop for another name.

"Then there's the owner of the Utterly Grandiose Imperial Restaurant,
a swine named Porkus.  Him and his son are the biggest thorn in my
side you could imagine.

"Beneath his corpulent exterior beats the heart of a true moral
degenerate.  He is the biggest provider of ginseng and marijuana in
China Town.  His son has been guilty of every form of deviltry an heir
can be guilty of.  And they step on every crack they find in the
sidewalk.  Who knows how many elderly ladies are living lives of pain
now, solely because of those two."

Worf looked thoroughly confused, so Bop explained.  Worf tried to
stand back, as he had previously noted that Bop spread excessive
levels of saliva when he spoke.

"Step On A Crack, Break Your Mama's Back," Bop explained.  "Though
they've been pains in the neck to women for years, they've always
wanted to produce even more pain.  They are against Motherhood, the
Flag, and Apple Pie.  With the Magic Black Hair Coat there might be no
limits to their dastardly deviousness."  Suddenly the duck looked
pensive.

"Maybe it is not such a hot-shot idea to have you chase down that pig.
I'll do the sniffing around his place."  Brightening, he turned again
to Worf.

"There is an address in North China Town, of an elaborate brothel once
owned by the mysterious and comely girlfriend of Dixon Hill, named
Night Mage.  its run now by this rabbity broad, and she might know
who took the Hair Coat.  You wouldn't believe what else she knows."
He gave Worf a new address.

"By the way, are you SURE Dixon Hill wouldn't like to drop by?  I
understand you can't tell which one of them is a gal when he steps out
with Night Mage."

---

"Spicy Harmony and Righteous Vigor Ladies Benevolent And Erotic
Activities Association" was the title on the door.  It looked like a
bankrupt bank, and at one time might have been.  Worf tried the door,
and stepped inside.

Once there he discovered both foyer windows were open to the cool air
and sunshine streaming inside.  Three long windows to the right let
even more air and sunshine in.  Worf returned to the outside.  A light
cold mist was coming down, making everything gray, dank, and damp.
Worf decided not to wonder.

Once inside again, approximately ten nearly-clad females swarmed about
him.  There was one silvery thin creature with gauzy wings and many
sharp teeth who seemed more interested in Worf's neck than his needs.

"I am interested in seeing Miss Bunny," Worf explained to the throng.
They immediately went away, leaving Worf face to face with she who was
Miss Bunny.

Worf had never much thought about bunnies excepting the fact that he
liked them barely singed and covered with lots of mushrooms.  A
night's pleasure, but certainly never as a night's pleasure.  This was
a whole new ball park he was entering.

She glided to him, so smooth her movement her feet might never had
touched the ground.  She slithered up to him, and he uttered a low
growl.  Her hips seemed to undulate in the fashion of seductive
females everytime and everywhere, and her breasts pendulously moved
under the light restraints of her shimmering silvery blue floor-length
dress.

Her eyes were the pools of desire, and her alluring long upright
rabbit ears were able to convey a library of emotions with every
twitch.  Her two giant prominent teeth seemed to promise an avenue of
unendurable bliss whenever she deigned to grant him her fellatrix'
kiss. Her long mobile arms eased their way around his body, her hands
were strong and caressing.  A scent of fresh carrot buds preceded her
and Worf found it a delicious perfume in his nostrils.

Then Worf found himself bending to give Miss Bunny his lips for a
lingering and heated kiss.

"Are you Miss Bunny?" he asked.

"Close enough so that it doesn't matter, Big Guy."  Her hands were
already busy on him, fondling him through his pants, stroking the
growing hardness hid by his trousers.  "What can I do for you, Mr.
Amazing Hulk?"

"I'm looking for a Magnificent Magical Black Hair Coat," he managed.
"It was stolen from the Supliferious and Awe-inspiring Duck Magician
Shimmy Shimmy Koo-Koo Bop."

"Must not be too much of a hot-shot if he got his Hair Shirt stole
from him," she pointed out.

"Hair Coat," Worf managed.

"Whatever," she cooed.  "Listen, what say we come back into my office
and we'll start the search there." She took a firm grasp on his handle
and led him off to the right rear.  "First thing we can do is
determine whether what you got is a pistol in there, or if you're
happy to see me."

---

I have to admit, I was impressed.  For once a restaurant named the
Utterly Grandiose Imperial Chinese Restaurant, carry-out available,
seemed to live up to its title.

There must have thirty-five square feet of neon display, and a doorman
who seemed to be all mustache.

"Yosemite Sam is the name," he said, as he helped me from my cab.
"Lordy, Ma'am, but you are a sight for eyes, sore or otherwise. Seeing
as how you got that pretty red hair, you wouldn't be that Dixon Hill
feller, would'cha, hah?  He's the best cross-dresser on the West
Coast, I heer tell.  Break a man's heart just for the sake of breakin'
it.

"But iffen he'd sit on my face, I'd be hornswaggoled if I couldn't
tame him.

"Listen, if you be this here Dixon Hill feller, I know of this really
nice Roadhouse north of the Bridge.  Good view of the bay, trees, and
they got clean bungalows in the back."  Wriggling grotesquely large
eyebrows at me, he continued.  "That Night Mage gal would probably add
a lot of spice to the salad, if you wanted to bring her along.  Is it
true her body count was up to fifty-eight when you converted her from
her evil ways?"

Coldly: "I am NOT Dixon Hill, in or out of drag.  Now get your nasty
little hand off my ass, or be prepared to have it fed to the first
hungry dog I see."  If I wasn't so pissed, I'd find this continuous
fondling exciting.

Inside I found countless Chinese bowing and smiling at me.  I told
them I wished to see the proprietor of the establishment.  I seethed
as I heard the name 'Dixon Hill' whispered about by the staff.  But I
enjoyed the intake of breath as I lifted my skirt to straighten the
lines of my hose.

Let 'em eat their hearts out.

A large Pig 'Toon came out to me, all bowing and smiles.  I didn't
trust him for a second.  This pig was an outright swine if ever I'd
seen one.  Rumor had it that he was involved in every bit of
smuggling, white slavery and drug dealing to come out of China Town.
Well, maybe not white.  More like soft pale bronze.

"Are you Porcus Pig?  And are you missing a Hare somewhere?"

The Pig let out a long breath, and the mask of humanity slipped from
his cunning little face, to be replaced by that universal one worn by
any anxious parent.

"Thank Confucius you're here, Dixon Hill."

"I'm not Dixon Hill."

"I'd been afraid you'd never agree to help me recover my insouciant
stepson, that worthless rabbit whose mocking ways have brought so much
heartbreak and grief to my heart."

"Your stepson is a rabbit?"

"Yes, certainly, that is true.  He used to be just a soft fuzzy bundle
of warmth, the joy of this heart.  Now he indulges himself in every
depravity known to Chinese man.  Such a disappointment he has been.
So cruel to his loving stepfather.  And now he's been missing for ten
days and we fear we have lost both our Heir and our Hare."

Porcus put a paw on my ass.  "You know, Dixon, I'd been hearing youse
was a cross-dresser divine, but I'd never have believed anyone could
pull it off so well as you do.  If you used a nice provocative scent,
something nice like "Eau d'Swill", the deception would be perfect.

"Listen," he whispered, "after all this is over, what say we have a
date sometime?  I know this Roadhouse north of the Bridge, a class
act.  Nice view of the bay, trees, cute little bungalows in back."

Coldly: "I am NOT Dixon Hill."

"If you're gonna be difficult, its okay.  I'm a patient guy, and I'm
usted to getting my own way, eventually."

"Just tell me about the Missing Hare."

"Missing Heir"

"Missing Heir," I surrendered.

Porcus described his errant stepson to me.  The rabbit he had in mind
was, of course, another 'Toon character.  Bipedal, long rabbit ears,
loved carrots, no apparent sexual organs, two very large upper front
teeth, three fingers on each hand, wears gloves, three large
three-toed feet.

A typical 'Toon rabbit.  Hare.  Heir.

Suddenly, in one of the reflecting glass surfaces I recognized ...
WORF?  His hat was askew, he had a befuddled look to him, and he had a
sensuous sexy female Bunny draped over his arm.  Turning, I could also
see numerous lipstick kiss marks over his face, his shirt collar , and
his crest.  I thought they matched the pouting lips of the beautiful
'Toon rabbit.

"Worf," I said in a distinctly chilly tone, advancing towards him with
my fists clenched.  "What are you doing with that mammalian hussy?"
Actually it was pretty plain what he had been doing with that
mammalian hussy when I saw part of his shirt was caught in his zipper
fly.  Was it possible to kill someone on the HoloDeck?

Then a voice behind me rose in a voice of shrill shock.

"SON???" Porcus cried?  "What are you doing dressed like that, made up
like that, I thought you promised your MaMa you'd be a good rabbit
from now on, and not do no more cross-dressing?"

Was this hussy the missing Hare?  Heir?  Could it be?

Worf eventually got his brain lobes into gear.  "Correct me if I am
wrong, but is this female not a female?  Have I been duped into
consorting with a willing and sexy female who is not a willing and
sexy female?"  He looked a lot more sober now than he had a moment
ago.  And a lot more unhappy.

"Ah-HAH!" a duck's sort of voice squawked behind my ear.  "It is YOU
who have stolen my Magical Hair Coat!  Give it back on the instant, or
I'll turn you into a dish of fresh Ga'hK worms and Tall and Ugly there
will eat you!"

"That's okay," the rabbit noted.  "He's already eaten me four times
and it wasn't all that hot.  No table manners, you know? Drools
heavily."

The duck hung in mid-air, his foot tapping the air rather ominously.

"Okay, okay," the rabbit admitted.  "I only borrowed it a little so I
could have some fun.  So long as I wore it everyone thought I was this
really sexy female rabbit."

I never saw Worf looking so green

The second the sensuous female seemed to open an invisible coat, he
was revealed as a tall male rabbit wearing a long black lamb's wool
coat.  A Hair Coat.  I wondered how they achieved the glossy effect?
From here it smelled somehow of ... young female?  I must be getting
confused from dealing with these many 'Toon characters.

I felt another pair of hands on my butt.  Turning I found I was
looking into the lascivious face of the Chinese duck.  Still floating
in mid-air, ignoring the rabbit.  Suddenly he snapped his fingers and
the coat rushed off the rabbit and draped itself over his magical
arms.

"Listen, Dixon, after all this rigmarole is over with, what say we
have a nice date somewhere?  I am dying to pay homage to the skills of
anyone who can cross-dress so convincingly and be so lovely doing it,"
the duck leered.

"We could go over to The Drake and have a coupla sirloin tips and
Saint Emillion '39, or we could stay here and have something. They
serve a great Mandarin Duck and a tangerine sherbet to die for."

"Mandarin Duck?  Isn't that cannibalism for you?"

"I'm a 'Toon Duck, Dixon, dearie.  Different species of Duck.  So
whatya say about the date?"

"I'm not Dixon Hill."

"Well, whoever you are, I gotta say you really know how to pull off
your little trick.  Anyone to look at you would believe you're a gal.
Maybe not a LADY, if you get my drift, but for sure a gal."

"I am not cross-dressing.  I AM a gal."

"Like I said, you could fool anyone, but your little secret is out,
Mister Private Detective Dixon Hill."

Before he could continue Deanna broke in on the scene, trailed by an
outlandish black stick figure wearing an oversize Roman helmet and an
ancient Greek metal-and-leather helot skirt.

"There he is, there he is, oh, that sneaky rabbit, he's not kidnapped
at all", the figure shouted.  "Have you been up to your old tricks
again?  Oh, you deserve to be turned into four pair of children's
gloves for all your many sins."

"Unfortunately," Porcus added, I must agree with Melvin-The-Martian
that this particular rabbit has outworn his days of usefulness or
welcome.  Stealing the Hair Shirt --"

"Hair Coat," I put in.

"-- Hair Coat is beyond forgiveness.  You might have gotten me into a
war with The Great Duck Magician Shimmy Shimmy Koo-Koo Bop. That might
have ruined all my family and killed some of them, especially me.
That cannot be forgiven."

Melvin put in his two cents.  "You had people pointing a finger at us,
as if we would do something like kidnapping anyone.  You have
besmirched my family name.

"And I owe you one for the coat," the Magician said.

With that Porcus whipped out a pistol and emptied it into the rabbit.
Before he could fall Melvin whipped out a large silver ax and threw it
into the rabbit.  You could see the pointy end poking out the back.

Then a bolt of lightning came out of nowhere and carved a smiley face
straight through the rabbits belly.

He looked pretty dead to me.

Scores of 'Toon characters stood around, doing nothing but looking at
the multi-punctured body of the Porcus Pigus family Heir and Hare. The
crowd kept shifting, and I was becoming accustomed by now to the
multitudes of strange hands on my backside.  For some unknown reason
my left buttock was favored over the right.

Truth demanded I had to yell at them.  "I AM NOT DIXON HILL!!!" There,
that felt better.  Now where was Deanna and Worf?  I think its time
to leave this place.  Case solved, time to go back to the world of the
Starship ENTERPRISE.

There were so MANY 'Toon characters here.  Where was the door? There
were so many HANDS!

Panic.  I can't move, there are so many hands, so many, they're all
over my arms and legs and butt, they're all moving and murmuring,
they're all caressing me.  My breasts, they're such soft touchings,
but its never ending.  its like I'm not surrounded by 'Toon
characters, but hundreds of self-existent hands.  All of them touching
me.  My face, my throat, my hair, my shoulders, my belly through the
cloth of my dress.  Endless hands.

Oh.  Oooooh, oh, oh.  Someone is touching the insides of my thighs
now.  Hands, hands, oh shit, this is feeling...

I should be yelling now, but every time I open my mouth hands are
tracing my lips, lightly touching my lips.  Hands, dozens of hands,
hands...

My dress hem is up, and all those hands are tracing the lines of my
garter belt and my hose.  They love the tops of my hose.  I've lost
count of how many times a hand has caressed me between the tops of my
hose and my thighs.

Oh.  Oh.  Ohohohoh...  So many hands in my crotch, my bottom now,
through my black panties, they're touching me so softly and so
constantly there, they shouldn't touch me there.  They're feeling so
good, I can't be, but I am, I can feel their fingers working me
through my panties, all my sex is under constant caressing, I can feel
how wet my panties are now.

Oh. Oh. Oh. There's a finger in my backside.  Two.  Different hands,
two 'Toon characters have a finger up my ass, and they're wriggling
them around.  A third, he's got two fingers in me.  He keeps going in
and out of me while the other two keep wriggling.

  ::: I am not Dixon Hill:::

My panty is gone, and there's all these HANDS touching me!

There's at least two fingers in me constantly, and fingers on my clit
and fondling my labia, and caressing my thighs and my nipples are hard
behind my dress and bra .... my bra is gone.  Someone must have cut it
off.

"Dixon Hill," I hear in the constant murmurs.  All those hands, all
over me, in me, making my backside feel like its enjoying some
rear-end sex there's so many fingers up me now....  "Dixon Hill, Dixon
Hill, Dixon Hill, Dixon Hill....."

  ::: I am not Dixon Hill :::

I sound very weak to my own ears.  Or very distracted.  Those hands,
so juicy I am, so many fingers are in me at any time, all moving on me
and in me and my nipples are not pinched but they're getting rolled
constantly between one set of fingers and thumb...

   its

 I'm

Up the slope

Over the edge.                   "Ooooooh, argh, no, please, arghhhh"
I scream, and who gives a damn whether or not my name is Dixon Hill.

I come forever, because they don't ever stop working me.  I come, and
I come, and I come.  its a relief when I realize that hideous little
Yosemite Sam is between my legs.

I am floating in air, I am laid slightly back and all those hands are
holding me up in the air.  Yosemite closely inspects my groin, making
wheezing noises from time to time.

"Geeeee Whillikers, Porcus!" he loudly proclaimed.  You're absolutely
right.  Dixon Hill has had himself made over into what looks
absolutely kee-rectly a gal!  Never has no man ever gone so far in his
search for cross-dressing perfection."

He whipped off his immense hat, throwing it away.  "Gentlemen, I stand
here before you, humble at the sight of what makes 'Merika great.
Dixon Hill was once a simple cross-dresser who realized that in
'Merika there is no limit to what a man might accomplish!

"I shall sing your praises forever, Dixon Hill, because you have done
what no man ever has done before.  Done the surgery so far that by now
a man can't tell the difference between Dixon Hill and a natural
borned female. And now it is my very proud duty to perform the
ultimate test on Dixon Hill's phenomenal scale of trans- gendering
accomplishment."

He stuck his face forward and I suddenly realized what is was Yosemite
Sam was going to do.

"The ultimate test, gentlemen!  Does Dixon Hill now TASTE like a
woman?"  Cheers, more hands on me.

Then I got the full effect of those giant mustache's between my thighs
at the same time his tongue-tip hit my clit.

   ::: I am not Dixon Hill :::

What a tongue he had!

   ::: I am not Dixon Hill :::

His tongue....  His teeth....  I was...

          It was so sharp a good, good, good divide I went quickly up
and so drawn-out a wave of fire that cooled and it was burning itself
inside me.  Yosemite leaned forward again.  That goddamned mustache
was barely tickling my thighs, but already making them spasm.

"I am glad to tell you all that Dixon Hill passes the ultimate test.
He does indeed taste like a woman, and Boy!  He really tastes like a
woman a hell of a LOT, let me tell ya!!!"

   ::: I am not ...

That goddamned mustache...

Who gives a damn who I am?

---

"No, Deanna, she is not outside anywhere that I can see.  Could she be
injured somewhere?"

"No, Worf, don't worry.  The HoloDeck protocols would turn the program
off if she were hurt.

"She's probably in her cabin already, getting changed.  We'll
certainly see her in Ten-Forward."

"We're going to Ten-Forward next?"

"Of course we are, Worf.  That's where you're going to buy me a
Double-Banana Sundae and I'm going to buy you some Prune Juice. After
that you can tell me all about yourself.

"After that I can take you back to my Cabin to show you my etchings."

"You have etchings?" Worf asked.

Pause.

"What are etchings good for?"

"They're a good excuse, Worf, a good excuse."

As they left, Deanna told the Computer to end Program.  It did --
mostly.  The Holodeck seemed vacant.  But behind the apparent back
wall, part of the program was still running.

---

Geordi was patiently steering another filament into Data's positronic
brain when Riker came by.

"I thought you two weren't going to run those tests on Data's
interface weave until later?  Worf was especially uneasy about a re-do
of that Western Sheriff holodeck disaster."

"No problem, Sir.  Everything is firmly under control here.  You can
see by the read-out there that all is smooth and trouble-free."

Riker carefully checked the display board.  He turned back to Data and
Geordi, sighing in resignation.

"Okay, go ahead.  Just be sure, the both of you that neither of you
ever mention this to Mister Worf.  We need'nt worry him
unnecessarily."

"Carry on."

---

I felt so dreamy now.  It was the result of all this 'Toon sex.  I
laid back comfy in what seemed to be a deeply padded barber's chair.
It was slightly tilted up, so I could see the face of each wonderful
new friend from 'Toon time.

Watch them carefully as each human-sized penis disappeared inside me.
My ass sort of overhung the edge of the padded chair, but as my legs
swung in the air in two comfy individual padded swings, I was very
comfortable.

It was wonderful.  Each one of these 'Toon characters had appeared
sexless before this.  But being 'Toon characters they could make any
part of themselves grow and flourish.  Any part.

At first they'd had a hard time accommodating me, reducing the
diameter or length until it got so I could sigh softly and enjoy
myself.  Everyone was a little bit longer than the human median, and
slightly smaller in diameter.

Whooo!  Whoooo!  I am pulling a lovely little train.  Chugga, chugga,
chugga, chugga!

Some of them went for bright colors, and I liked the rainbow color
mixes the best.  Of course what I REALLY enjoyed were the hundreds and
hundreds of knobs, barnacles and encrustation's they grew on their
'Toon thingees.

There was this big Rooster, he had little wings on his, and I could
feel all of them trying to beat, while he paused upon hitting bottom.

Whooo!  Whooo!

This bald little harmless 'Toon creature was having me now.  So steady
he was, just plugging away.  Longer, but smaller than most of the
'Toon characters.  Very nice fit, I sounded so wet now. Then I looked
up when a new 'Toon critter came to us.

It was the rabbit!  But I'd seen him killed!  But then this was not
only China Tow, but 'Toon Town as well.  He was wearing three
band-aids on his chest, so I presume he recovered from his wounds.

"Elmer, ol' buddy," the rabbit began.  "How's it hangin'?"

"Not bad, Bugs, not bad at all.  I got my contract renewed early AND
got a 15% raise.  Not bad, huh?"

"Hey, Fuddy old Fudd, that's great, glad to hear of it.  That means
you'll be hunting me in more 'Toon's to come I guess."

The rabbit was fingering a nipple, he was good at it.

"So tell me, Fuddy, who's the dish laid out for all of us?"

"its this private detective named Dixon Hill."

   ::: I am not Dixon Hill :::

"He's a cross-dresser, and just LOOK at the level of surgery he got
done!  A really dedicated type."  Pump, pump, pump, pump.  "He feels
like a woman, he looks like a woman, he even tastes like a woman!  Can
you beat that, hah?"

With that Fudd paused while he emptied himself inside me.  I'd already
taken a lick of two of some of that 'Toon sperm product. Quite
tasteless, no fun at all.

Bugs took his place smoothly.  I boggled at his prick, though.  It
looked like a long straight carrot, only the green stalk end was
pointed at me.  Then he slid inside...

The damned stalks were independently mobile!  It felt like I had an
octopus in there with several tentacles!

We were making squelchy noises almost immediately, and I knew I was
going to come all over his carrot if he kept it up just a few minutes.

"So," Bugs said.  "Very glad to meetcha, Dixon, how ya doin'?"

   ::: I am not Dixon Hill :::

"Well," he says, "if you ain't Dixon Hill, who are you?"  Squelch,
squelch, squelch.

   ::: I am Doctor Beverly Howard Crusher of the Starship ENTERPRISE.
:::  Squelch, smackety squelch.

"Glad to meet ya, bub."  Squelch, smackety, smackety, smackety... I
was getting so close, and he was speeding up....

"Doctor, eh?  So then, tell me....

"What's up, Doc?"

---

continued the fifth story in the China series 'China Berry'