Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 The following story is a work of fiction.  Its contents are of a
graphically sexual nature and may involve non-consensual sexual acts
between underage partners.  Any resemblance to persons either alive or dead
is purely coincidental.  This story is intended for ADULTS only.  If you
are under the legal age of consent in your local jurisdiction, or if you
are easily offended, kindly STOP READING NOW.

   "Stick Lady" - by - The StoryMaster

   Trisha Nelson was actually a rather pretty child if one were to take the
time to look closely.

   Trisha had sparkling blue eyes, high cheekbones, a pretty nose and
sultry mouth.  She kept her auburn red hair cut boyishly short and above
her ears with straight bangs.

   In fact, it was her somewhat boyish appearance that was might have been
responsible for Trisha's becoming experienced well beyond her years at the
tender age of twelve.

   Trisha had always worn her hair shorter than most of her friends, but
that wasn't her biggest problem.  The one aspect of her life that was the
most difficult for Trisha was that while the majority of her girl friends
began to develop those enticing curves of womanhood, Trisha's body refused
to budge.  Her reasonably happy childhood swiftly evolved into a hellish
adolescence as she watched other girls her age mature into attractive young
women.  Their hips started to spread and their budding breasts started to
press against the insides of their blouses.  Trisha's anatomy, on the other
hand, seemed to have stalled somewhere around age nine.  To her dismay,
Trisha's hips remained narrower than her shoulders, and while the mothers
of most of her friends were buying their daughters training bras, poor
Trisha's chest stayed as flat as the surface of a billiard table.  As she
grew taller, her physique became even more lanky and angular rather than
sleek and flowing like the other girls.

   To make matters worse, there was a group of self-absorbed young ladies
in Trisha's school who seemed to delight in tormenting the unhappy girl. 
In fact, the three girls made Trisha's sixth and seventh grade years a
living hell.  They teased her unmercifully, calling her names like "Tomboy"
and "Stick Lady".  They taunted her often, saying that she would never have
a boyfriend, because 'boys weren't attracted to boys'.

   What's sad is that to a degree, they were correct.  As young ladies near
their teenage years, they become competitive and even ruthless as they
instinctively seek to position themselves for pairing.  With so many
curvaceous bodies to choose from, it was doubtful that many boys would be
interested in a tall, skinny little girl who looked like a little boy.

   By the time Trisha reached middle school, her more physically desirable
acquaintances had managed to erode away her sense of self-worth almost
entirely.  Trisha's lack of self-esteem was conspicuously personified by
her extreme shyness, and as a result, although she had a pleasant
personality, Trisha had few friends.  At school she kept mostly to herself
in an effort to avoid the fiendish group of girls who constantly teased and
belittled her.  She was never seen associating with other students her age
on a social basis.  Trisha did not involve herself in school sports or
other extracurricular activities, and she did not date.  In short, Trisha
Nelson was a loner.

   Although her recluse behavior tended to alienate Trisha from her peers
at school, it made the young girl an attractive target for the more
nefarious groups of young people in town.  "Gang Bangers", they were
called, and their ranks consisted of young men and women of all ages. 
Within these gangs lurked individuals who were constantly on the lookout
for young ladies just like Trisha; fresh, innocent, unworldly and starved
for affection.

   One such individual was named Jonathon Beasley.  Jonathon was
twenty-four years old, easily making him the oldest member of the gang by
several years.  Jonathan enjoyed a position of power and authority in the
reasonably large group of misguided young people who's ranks totaled nearly
fifty.  Jonathon Beasley was what one might call ruggedly handsome.  He had
curly blond hair, a strong jaw and cool grey eyes.  Jonathon stood six feet
tall and had a muscular build with broad shoulders and narrow hips.  He was
very charismatic and had a commanding presence.

   The majority of the members of the "Zippers", as the gang called
themselves, were male, but over the past ten months or so, a considerable
number of young ladies had joined up as well.  Most had been personally
recruited by Jonathon Beasley, the girls easily falling prey to his
personal magnetism and alluring good looks.  To a one, the girls were young
and impressionable, most being in their early to middle teenage years. 
Since they were at that age where their raging hormones and innate
curiosity frequently overpowered their better judgement, Jonathon had
little trouble coaxing the young ladies into his bed, and often more than
one at a time.  In fact, at the time of this writing, Jonathon Beasley had
amassed what amounted to a harem of sixteen girls, the oldest of whom had
only recently turned eighteen and the youngest, just fourteen.

   Although Jonathon enjoyed a sex life that would rival the most
provocative fantasies of most men, he was possessed of a virtually
insatiable appetite and was always on the prowl for "fresh material". 
Jonathon had recently discovered that he had a taste for innocence, and as
a result, he'd taken to patrolling the middle schools as well as the high
schools.

   One afternoon, as Beasley sat parked in his dark blue Miata across the
street from the Anderson Middle School, he observed a gaggle of vivacious
young ladies exit the main building and descend the front steps.  They were
involved in what appeared to be the animated heckling of a slim, gangly
student whom they had surrounded.  At first, Jonathon couldn't tell if the
target of their ridicule was male or female.  The thin youngster had short
reddish hair with straight bangs and moved with decided ungainliness and
lack of grace.  Then as the group stepped onto the broad sidewalk in front
of the school, Jonathon recognized some distinctly feminine traits about
the gangling youngster.  The way she clutched her books to her chest, for
example, was a dead giveaway.

   Then as if to confirm that which Jonathon had already deduced, one
pretty young blond girl in the pack cried out several times tauntingly,
"Stick lady...stick lady...stick lady!"

   Even from across the street, Jonathon could see the color rise in the
face of the slim red haired girl, and as Trisha struggled to break through
the ranks of her fellow students, she had no idea that her days as an
unwanted outcast were about to end.

   For a few weeks, Jonathon Beasley frequented the neighborhood of the
Anderson Middle School in order to determine the pattern of the comings and
goings of what he hoped would be the newest addition to his group of young
companions.  He was very cautious not to draw attention to himself and
possibly arouse suspicion as he observed the young girl.

   As a result of his patient surveillance Jonathon determined that the
girl kept almost entirely to herself when she wasn't being tormented by her
classmates.  Jonathon figured that because of the abuse she suffered at the
hands of the other girls, the youngster would probably be very defensive
and guarded.  So when he felt that the time was right to approach her,
Jonathon decided to enlist the help of Karen, the oldest of his female gang
members.

   Karen was bi-sexual, and had helped him in the past to lure more than
one unsuspecting young lady into his fold.  Karen was almost seventeen and
had white blond hair.  Even dressed in the black leather, multi-zippered
"colors" of their organization, Karen Minski was a pretty girl.  Although
she had a subtle hardness about her, she covered it well, and could come
across as quite charming when she needed to.

   "I think she's cute," Karen commented from the passenger seat of the
Miata.  Jonathon timed his arrival at the intersection perfectly, and the
two sat innocently in the dark blue sports car while the pretty auburn
haired girl crossed the street in front of them.  Several days earlier,
he'd followed her, keeping a discrete distance, of course, as she walked
home alone after school.  In this way, he'd discovered where she lived. 
The young girl took the same route to and from her home everyday, so it was
almost too easy for Jonathon to plan a first meeting.

   "Not, bad, I guess," Jonathon responded as he studied his target.  "A
little on the skinny side, maybe." He didn't bother to remark about the
girl's obviously tender age, or just how much that prospect excited him. 
"You ready?" he asked his accomplice.

   "Do you think she noticed us?" the blond teenager asked.

   "I doubt it.  She always looks like she's in her own world," he added.
The two sat for a couple of minutes before Jonathon eased the sports car
through the intersection.  Glancing to his left, he watched the young girl
cross a couple of blocks up and disappear down a side street.  Jonathon
drove one block, hung a left then accelerated up the side street.  He
needed to time this perfectly if his plan was going to work.  When they
were still about a half a block from the intersection, Jonathon watched the
object of his desires step off the curb in front of them.  The Miata
covered the distance in no time at all.  Then with a loud screeching of
tires, Jonathon braked hard, bringing the nimble sports car to an abrupt
halt just a few feet from the startled girl.  Her eyes were the size of
saucers when she looked quickly in the direction of the skidding car.  Her
books flew helter-skelther, as she tripped over her own two feet and fell
unceremoniously to the pavement.  Jonathon's car never touched her.

   In keeping with their plan, Karen leaped from the car while Jonathon
remained behind the wheel.  "Are you alright?" the blond girl cried
excitedly as she stooped beside the fallen child.

   "I...  I think so," the slim girl stammered after a moment.  She looked
up at Karen, shielding her eyes from the sun with one hand.

   Karen instantly fell in love when she got a look at the girl's face up
close.  "She sure is pretty, but kinda young," was Karen's first impression
of the girl.  "But not too young," she quickly concluded.  Karen had after
all taken her first lover the day after her thirteenth birthday.  "Here,
let me help you," Karen said offering her hand to the fallen girl.

   "I...  guess I tripped," the auburn haired youngster said sheepishly as
Karen helped her up.  She was all a tangle of long legs and arms.

   "Hey, I'm really sorry," Karen responded apologetically as she stooped
to pick up the younger girl's school books.  "My name's Karen.  What's
yours?"

   "Trisha," the girl replied shyly.

   "Jonathon really pisses me off some times, driving like fool!" She
glared with mock animosity at the guy in the sports car.  "Here you go,
Trisha," Karen said handing the girl her books.  "You sure you're OK?" Then
she smiled when she saw the youngster gazing almost in awe at Jonathon.  He
had that effect of young women.  "Helloooo," Karen said with a chuckle
after a couple of seconds.

   "Huh..  Wwhhaa?" the auburn haired beauty stammered.  Then she blushed a
deep crimson.  She had incredible blue eyes.

   "I said...  are you OK?" Karen asked.  She gave the younger girl a look
heavy with hidden meaning that only two females could interpret, and the
younger girl blushed all the hotter because of it.

   "I...I...Uh huh," she nodded, then looked quickly away.

   Karen let her squirm for a minute before at last she said, "OK then,
Trisha.  If you're sure you're alright, we gotta go." The younger girl
nodded again, but continued to avert her eyes.  Unexpectedly Karen raised
her hand to the back of the youngster's slim neck, then gently slipped her
fingers up under her soft hair.  The little girl was startled, but didn't
resist as Karen rubbed her neck for a moment or two before turning to the
car.  "Let's go, Jonathon," the blond said as she jumped into the Miata. 
"Bye Trisha," she called to the young girl as she walked away without
looking back.

   Two days later, when Trisha Nelson started home after school, she had no
idea that her life was about to change so drastically.  As she descended
the front steps of the school, Trisha was immediately accosted by her two
worst antagonists, Sherry Eldridge and Morgan Perkins.

   "Where're you going, Tomboy?" Sherry asked, her voice dripping with
contempt.  Sherry Eldridge was a cute blond girl, and very popular.

   "Yeah, where're you going?" the other girl called, mimicking her friend.
The second girl, Morgan was also a very pretty young lady, and the object
of the dreams of most of the male population of the school.  Rumor had it
that Morgan Perkins was dating a high school boy, and that the two of them
had even "fooled around" on occasion.  Then she reached out and pushed
Trisha roughly.  "Stick lady...stick lady...stick lady," she called. 
"Where's your boyfriend, stick lady?"

   As usual, Trisha stumbled.  She fell against Sherry Eldridge.  "Hey,
watch it, Stick lady!" the other girl said crossly.  Then she shoved Trisha
back toward Morgan.  The two vindictive blonds were in the process of
jostling poor Trisha back and forth between them like a volley ball,
causing her to drop her books in an effort to regain her balance, when who
should come walking by unexpectedly, but Karen Minski.

   "Hey, knock it off, ladies!" Karen said as she approached.  The two
attractive blonds froze as they gazed up at the big girl dressed in black
leather.  Karen bulled her way between girls and held out a hand to Trisha.
"Why don't you come with me Trish," she said in a familiar tone.  "You
don't need to take any more shit from these two spoiled little bitches!"
Trisha was stunned, but she stooped down, picked up her books then took the
older girl's offered hand anyway.  Before going with Karen, Trisha turned
and stared at Morgan and Sherry.  The expressions on the faces of the two
girls were priceless.  They had never been so humiliated in all of their
young lives, and they showed it.  Realizing that her two tormentors were
completely intimidated by the older girl in leather, Trisha stuck her
tongue out at them.  Then she turned away and left the school grounds, hand
in hand with Karen, her new found friend.

   "Hop in," Karen said cheerfully as they approached the blue Miata.

   Suddenly feeling uncomfortable, Trisha hesitated saying, "I really gotta
get home now."

   "Home?" Karen said in surprise.  Then she added, "Well, alright.  If you
really want to.  Hop in, and I'll give you a lift."

   Trisha would never know what came over her that afternoon.  Perhaps it
was the elation she felt at being delivered from the hands of Sherry and
Morgan.  She would never know for certain.  Casting aside everything she'd
been taught, Trisha threw caution to the wind and climbed into the car.

   "So why do you let those two little bitches treat you like that?" Karen
asked after they'd gone a couple of blocks.  Trisha didn't answer.  Instead
she sat staring down at her knees.  "You need to learn to stick up for
yourself, girl," the blond said.  "You stick with me, and I promise you,
neither of those two or any of their accomplices will ever bother you
again. Would you like that Trish?" Karen asked.  Observing the pretty girl
out of the corner of her eye, Karen saw her nod.  They drove on in silence
for a spell.  "So what do you do for fun, Trish?"

   "My name's Trisha," the younger girl said.

   "Yeah, well, I like Trish better," Karen said with a laugh.  "You can be
Trisha for those bitchy little blonds, but to me, you're Trish." The young
girl stared at Karen in surprise, but didn't offer any argument.  After a
minute, the older blond asked again, "What do you do for a good time,
Trish?"

   Trisha remained silent for several minutes while Karen waited patiently.
"I...I like to read," she offered softly.

   "You like to read?" Karen retorted incredulously.  "That's what you do
for fun?  You like to read?" At the risk of having the young girl think of
her as another of her hecklers, Karen allowed her words to hang in the air
for a moment.  "Trish, Trish," she then added in a more friendly way.  "No
wonder those spoiled little bitches tease you." She turned and gazed
briefly at Trisha with a look of sympathy on her face.  "I've got some
friends you gotta meet, Trish," Karen added with a tone of finality.

   "But, I need to get home," Trisha reminded the older girl behind the
wheel.

   "Yeah, well, I promise I'll get you home later, but first you have to
meet my friends.  It'll do you a world of good Trish, baby!  Trust me."

   The front windows of the abandoned corner grocery store were so dirty
they were practically opaque.  After rapping on the glass in the prescribed
manner, someone inside of the old building unlocked and opened the door for
Karen and her new friend.  With a hand on Trisha's shoulder, Karen escorted
the pretty auburn haired girl ahead of her through the front door of the
Zipper's club house and hangout.

   Unfamiliar smells of stale beer and marijuana smoke assaulted Trisha's
senses as she stood gazing around the dimly lit room.  Suddenly she
realized that people were beginning to crowd around her.  From out of
nowhere, a hand reached out and stroked Trisha's right cheek, causing the
young girl to recoil with a startled squeak.

   "Easy, Trish," Karen chuckled, giving the timid girl a reassuring
squeeze on her shoulder.  Then to the unseen crowd she said, "Take it easy
guys, she's new here, you know."

   "She's cute," a voice said from out of the gloom.

   "She is cute," Karen agreed, causing Trisha to blush hotly.  "Guys, this
is Trish.  Trish, these juvenile delinquents are my brothers and sisters.
We call ourselves the Zippers.  Ever heard of us?" Karen asked.

   "I...  I...  Yeah, I guess," Trisha answered timidly.

   "Don't mind Trish," Karen said to her unseen friends with a laugh. 
"She's not stuck up like her friends.  She's just a little shy, that's all.
She's a good kid, once you get to know her," the older blond added as
though she'd known Trisha all of her life.

   Suddenly someone put a heavy arm around Trisha's shoulders.  A husky
voice and its accompanying beer breath said, "Hi there, shy girl." Trisha
gasped as the owner of the voice nuzzled his face against the side of her
neck.  She shot a startled and fearful look in Karen's direction.

   "Don't worry, Trish, baby.  That's just Ron," Karen said reassuringly.
"Ron won't hurt you, and neither will anybody else here."

   Trisha shivered as her unseen admirer nibbled at the back of her neck
just below her hairline.  She'd never been touched before by anyone in any
fashion, and the sensation was at the same time both unsettling and
thrilling.

   "OK, that's enough, Ron," Karen laughed.  "Down, boy!" Then she took
Trisha's hand and led her into the gloom toward the back of the room.  All
around her Trisha saw bodies or parts of bodies looming out of the smoke
filled air.  Arriving at last in front of a dilapidated sofa, Karen told
Trisha to take a seat, and relax, and that she'd return in a minute.

   Trisha sat gazing about nervously.  From out of the gloom she heard
voices but couldn't tell what, if anything, was said.  She also heard
strange moans and other animal-like sounds that were both foreign to her
and mildly disturbing.  In addition she noticed a musky smell in the air,
one that was unfamiliar to Trisha, yet strangely familiar somehow. 
Suddenly someone touched her face, causing her to jump.

   "Hey, easy there, Trish, baby," a familiar voice said from behind her.
It was Karen.  The older blond girl stepped around the old sofa and plopped
down beside Trisha.  "Here," she said, handing the surprised young girl an
open can of Budweiser.

   "I'd better not," Trisha said timidly.

   "Why the hell not?" Karen retorted after taking a swig off her own beer.
"You're among friends now, Trish.  You need to lighten up and have some
fun. It's OK, really."

   Trisha looked at the older girl who'd come to her aid earlier, and at
last she rewarded her new friend with a cautiously trusting smile.  Trisha
took a sip of Budweiser.  It was another first for her.  Before that
moment, Trisha Nelson had never tasted beer or any other kind of alcoholic
beverage for that matter, not surprisingly it didn't take long at all for
the alcohol to go straight to her head.

   Recognizing the calming effects the beer was having on Trisha, Karen
began to ask her some questions.  Karen kept the topics innocent at first,
asking Trisha about her school and her home life.  She asked about her
parents, what they did for a living, etc.  Trisha confided in her new
friend that although she got along OK with her Dad and Step-mom, they were
both very busy with their careers and tended to neglect her for the most
part.

   "So your parents don't pester you and monitor your every move?" Karen
asked.  "Hey, I wish my parents had been like that when I was your age,"
she then added with a smile.  "So, how old are you, Trish?"

   "Twel...thirteen," the young girl replied more confidently.  She took a
big sip of beer from the half empty sixteen ounce can.  Suddenly she burped
loudly.  "Oh!" Trisha exclaimed, startled and embarrassed.  Then she
laughed.  It was the first good laugh she'd had for quite some time.

   "Any boyfriends?" Karen asked unexpectedly.  Then seeing the pretty
girl's face cloud over, she added quickly, "Hey, Trish.  Don't worry about
it.  Like I said, your among friends here." Karen slipped closer to Trisha
and put her arm affectionately around the younger girl's shoulders.  Trisha
did not resist.  "I'm sure there's a boy out there somewhere just waiting
for you." She nodded off into the gloomy smoke filled room.

   The true meaning of Karen's statement eluded Trisha, but just out of
sight on the other side of the room, Jonathon Beasley sat staring intently
through the gloom at the pair seated on the old sofa.  The first part of
his plan had succeeded splendidly.  The girl was here, and with any luck
she'd be back.  Jonathon decided that it would be prudent for him to wait
until later to introduce himself.  That would be the second part of his
plan.  The part that he would enjoy the most.

   Karen brought Trisha a second beer, then the two girls sat and just
talked for another hour or so.  Karen kept the talk light, but she took
every chance she got to put her hands on the pretty adolescent. 
Occasionally a suggestive groan could be heard from somewhere out in the
gloom of the dim clubroom.  "Just some Zippers havin' fun," Karen explained
with a smile when she saw Trisha's questioning expression.  "We're all real
good friends here," she added.  Trisha smiled and nodded shyly.  She
glanced around a little sheepishly and took another pull off her beer. 
Then, as she lowered the can to her lap, Karen unexpectedly reached out
with her right hand and placed it softly on Trisha's cheek.  Stroking the
girl's magnificently soft skin, Karen asked, "Are you my friend, Trish?"

   Startled at first, Trisha raised her left hand and covered Karen's hand
on her face.  She wore and expression of mild concern as she gazed into the
older girl's eyes.  Then at last, after a little shrug, Trisha nodded her
pretty head.

   Karen smiled and said, "I'm glad, Trish.  I want for us to be really
good friends one day."

   Over the next few weeks, Trisha Nelson slowly evolved into a different
person.  The usual conservative skirt and bouse she wore to school was
replaced by tight black jeans, a tube style pullover top and denim jacket.
Her posture became more erect, and she spoke more confidently.  Once when
Morgan Perkins confronted her, Trisha stared at the haughty blond in such a
way that the girl actually took a step back in surprise.

   Trisha saw Karen fairly regularly during the period, and paid several
visits to the club house of the Zipper gang.  The older blond girl would
occasionally meet Trisha after school and the two of them would either
cruise around in the blue sports car, or they'd go to the mall and hang
out. Karen was constantly running into her friends, both male and female,
some of whom Trisha began to recognize as Zippers, since they all wore the
gang colors, black jeans, black tee shirts and black leather jackets
adorned with many zippers.

   Then one fateful afternoon as the two friends sat side by side in the
Taco Bell at the mall, Karen dropped the bomb.  "Hey Trish, baby," Karen
began in her familiar way.  "The guys have been talking, and we'd like to
see you join our family.  You interested?"

   Six weeks ago, Trisha Nelson would have run like hell, had she been
asked to join what was rumored to be a rather notorious street gang, but
now, she wasn't so sure how she felt about the prospect.  Karen had been so
good to her.  In fact all of the Zippers had accepted her and treated her
as an equal.  During her visits to the club house, the Zippers had gone out
of their way to make her feel welcome.  They let her drink beer freely. 
Trisha had even tried a marijuana cigarette recently.  Prior to meeting
Karen and the Zippers, nobody had ever treated Trisha civilly before.  No
one had ever wanted to include her in anything, at least not that she could
remember.

   "I...I..." she stuttered.

   "What's the matter, Trish?  Cat got your tongue?" Karen said with a
laugh.

   Trisha gazed in silence at her new friend for a good while, then she
made a decision that would change her life.  "OK, sure," Trisha replied.

   "Cool deal, Sister!" Karen exclaimed.  Then she leaned closer and kissed
Trisha on her right cheek just brushing the corner of her mouth.  At first
this struck Trisha as being a bit unusual, a girl kissing a girl, but Karen
had followed up the seemingly innocent act with such a winning smile, that
Trisha's misgivings quickly faded.

   Trisha spent every afternoon the following week at the Zipper's club
house in the company of her new found group of peers.  A couple of the guys
had given her looks that made Trisha feel excited and even a little
self-conscious, but so far no one had made any serious advances toward her.


   Karen shared some makeup ideas with the younger girl, and the results
were stunning.  A little eye shadow here, some blush there, and Trisha
fairly bloomed, her natural adolescent good looks enhanced by the
cosmetics. Still, the male members of the Zippers seemed to keep their
distance.  Trisha, now a little more confident in herself, was puzzled, so
she confided in her more mature friend, Karen.  "Why won't any of the boys,
you know, talk to me?" Trisha asked coyly one day.

   "What's the matter, Trish?  You looking for a boyfriend?" Karen asked
her with a good natured laugh and a wink.  Her blunt question thoroughly
embarrassed the younger girl.  "Don't worry, Sister.  Your time will come.
You haven't been initiated yet, that's all."

   Trisha loved it when Karen called her "sister".  "Initiated?" she asked
her older mentor.

   "You bet, Sister.  It's like a huge party, and that's when you earn your
colors.  I think Jonathon has your initiation planned for this coming
Saturday, so be sure to tell your parents that you'll be home late." Karen
winked conspiratorially at Trisha.

   "Wh...who's Jonathon?" Trisha inquired, vaguely remembering having heard
that name somewhere before.

   "Jonathon is our Chieftain, Trish, baby," the older girl explained. 
Then with a chuckle she added, "Ironically, he's the guy who almost ran
over you a few weeks ago.  Remember?  That's his sports car that you and I
have been cruising around in."

   "Oh...  oh yeah," Trisha replied.  She suddenly got a distant look on
her face.  Even after having only beheld the curly blond headed Jonathon
Beasley for an instant, he'd left a memorable impression on Trisha as he
did with most young women.

   Karen recognized the dreamy expression on Trisha's face, and she added,
"Jonathon will be performing your initiation ritual, Sister.  You're gonna
love it.  I promise." The curious younger girl continued to press Karen
about the mysterious ritual she was to participate in, but Karen would
answer no further questions.

   The week passed slowly for the anxious adolescent.  Then on Friday
afternoon when they met after Trisha got out of school, Karen told the
younger girl to be sure to look her best tomorrow for her initiation.  "You
don't want to disappoint Jonathon," she cautioned.

   "OK," Trisha replied.  "So, what time Saturday night?"

   "Oh no, Trish, baby.  You need to be at the club house by nine in the
morning." Then observing the surprised expression on Trisha's face, Karen
added, "Like I said, it's gonna be a huge party, and you're the guest of
honor.  Don't be late," the blond girl told Trisha as they parted ways.

   Trisha was so excited that night she could barely sleep.  She was mildly
apprehensive, but the Zippers had treated her with such kindness so far. 
"Why should tomorrow be any different?" Trisha asked herself just before
drifting off to sleep.

   Saturday morning arrived at last.  Trisha heard her parents leave for
work almost an hour before dawn.  They worked six days a week, sometimes
seven.  After bathing, Trisha pulled on her best black Jordache jeans that
she'd reserved for the special occasion.  Next came her most provacative
tank top tee shirt which showed off what few curves she had.  Trisha then
spent close to thirty minutes applying makeup exactly like Karen had shown
her.  She wrapped up the package with her favorite denim jacket, then stood
for several minutes gazing at herself in the full length mirror on the back
of her bathroom door.  Trisha's objective was to impress her new friends
and especially their rather mysterious and reclusive Chieftain.  She looked
stunning.

   "You're late," Karen scolded as she let Trisha in the front door. 
Trisha looked at her watch.  It was only ten minutes after nine.

   "But," she began to make excuses for her tardiness.

   "Forget it," Karen said with a wave of her hand.  Then stepping back
from the auburn haired girl, Karen said, "You look great, Sister." Trisha
beamed.  Although her selfimage had improved to a degree over the past
month or so, Trisha still thrived on the approval of others.  "Grab a beer
outta the fridge, have a seat, and I'll go see if they're ready for you."

   When Karen left, Trisha once again found herself sitting alone, gazing
about the dingy room.  This morning, however, she saw no one else seated
anywhere in the big room or chatting with fellow Zippers in the shadows. 
Trisha sipped her beer and waited.  Ten minutes passed before Karen
returned.

   "OK, Sister.  It's time.  Come with me," she said smiling and holding
out her hand to Trisha.  Allowing herself to be led by the hand, Trisha
followed her older friend through a rear door that she'd not noticed before
now.

   The room into which Trisha was led was so dark that it took several
moments for her eyes to adjust enough for her to see anything at all. 
Peering into the semi-darkness, the young girl thought she could make out
what looked to be a huge bed several feet away.  Suddenly someone appeared
beside Trisha and Karen.

   "Here," the person said, handing a big marijuana cigarette to Trisha.  A
few weeks ago, Trisha would have recoiled, but by now, the use of alcohol
and marijuana were second nature to her.

   "Thanks," Trisha said, taking the joint from the girl whom she thought
she recognized as one of her soon to be "Sisters" by the name of Barbara.
Barbara was a lovely girl just a couple of years older than Trisha.  They'd
talked on a few occasions, and Barbara, like all the Zippers had expressed
how happy she was that Trisha was going to join them.  Trisha took a pull
on the joint.  It was powerful stuff and instantly made her head spin.

   "Come in," a male voice said from the direction of the big bed.

   Cautiously, Trisha approached with Karen behind her.  Someone moved in
the shadows to her right.  Then suddenly from out of the darkness, Jonathon
Beasley appeared.  Before Trisha knew it, the charismatic young man stood
directly in front of her.  He looked godlike in his flowing white robe.

   "Welcome, Trisha," Jonathon Beasley murmured softly as he reached for
her face.  Everything in Trisha wanted to pull away from his touch, but she
found that she was rooted in place almost as if by magnetism.  She tipped
her head slightly when he placed his palm gently onto her right cheek. 
"We're glad...  I'm glad you're here." The light was quite poor, but Trisha
was sure that he was smiling.  "Why don't you have a seat on the
eCeremonial Altar, and we'll get started," Jonathon said after a pause. 
Then he placed his hands onto Trisha's shoulders and gently moved her back
against the edge of the huge bed.

   Trisha sat.  She had no choice.  It was either that or fall flat onto
her back.  Glancing quickly to her left, Trisha spied several other bodies
on the bed with her.  It looked to her like every female member of the gang
was there, but oddly, there were no boys present.

   "Drink this," Karen said unexpectedly.  When Trisha looked in her
direction, the older girl was standing before her holding out a golden
colored goblet.

   Obediently, Trisha took the heavy cup, then realizing she still held a
burning marijuana cigarette, she passed that off to Karen with a sheepish
smile.  "What is it?" Trisha asked, staring down at the chalice in her
small hands.

   "It's ceremonial wine," Karen said flatly.  "Drink it.  It's part of our
ritual and your right of passage." Trisha took a sip.  It didn't taste too
bad.  She lowered the cup and looked up at her older friend.  "Drink it
all," Karen instructed.

   Jonathon Beasley stood nearby observing, and when the young girl had at
last tipped back the painted gold goblet and consumed all of its contents,"
he spoke, this time in a very somber tone of voice.  "Do you, Trisha
Nelson, truly wish to join us?".

   After a pause, Trisha nodded her head, then in a small voice she
answered, "Yeah, I mean, yes sir."

   Her use of the word "sir" made Jonathon smile inwardly.  "And will you
accept all of the duties and responsibilities of a full Sister of the
Zipper?"

   Trisha wasn't at all certain what the young man meant by his last
statement, but she was suddenly feeling so very warm and comfortable that
she nodded her head anyway.  Her eyes appeared even more dreamy looking
than usual as she gazed up at the attractive Chieftain of the gang.

   "And will you join with your sisters and me now in the Ceremonial Right
of Passage?" Jonathon asked the girl.

   After a prolonged hesitation, during which time Trisha struggled to
collect her thoughts, she responded.  "Uh huh.  I...  I guess so." Then to
herself Trisha remarked, "I'm so dizzy.  God, I hope I don't fall asleep."

   Trisha naturally had no idea that the cheep red wine she'd just consumed
was heavily laced with a special cocktail of Jonathon's own concoction. 
Disguised by the extremely sweet wine was the more bitter taste of
phenobarbital, a rather strong sedative.  And, for extra measure, a small
amount of the drug, Rohypnol was added.  Rohypnol, the popular "date rape"
drug of choice, was very effective at rendering the subject more
"cooperative", and it had the added benefit of inducing a mild state of
short term amnesia.

   "Then we'll begin," Jonathon said.  As he spoke the lights in the room
slowly grew brighter.  Just before Trisha swooned, she observed that on the
large bed with her lay fifteen girls of varying ages.  The young ladies
were dressed in identical, loose fitting white smocks and lay watching
Trisha closely.  Even in her muzzy state of rapidly flagging consciousness,
Trisha recognized many of them.  As she'd previously suspected, the girls
represented the entire female contingent of the Zipper gang.

   Trisha slowly fell onto her side on the soft surface of the big bed,
where she lay in a state of semi-cognizance.  She had a vague idea of where
she was, and that many hands were touching her.  Trisha didn't feel the
slightest bit concerned as she was slowly pulled farther onto the
"Ceremonial Altar".

   She opened her eyes and gazed sleepily up into the face of a girl by the
name of Jamie.  Jamie was a lovely brunette about sixteen years old . 
Trisha had talked with Jamie on more than one occasion, and liked the girl.
She was particularly surprised then when after rolling Trisha onto her
back, Jamie leaned over her, smiled then without hesitation, peeled her
white smock over her head.  Even in her semi-conscious state, the alarm
bells went off in Trisha's head.

   "Good girls should never take their clothes off in front of other
people," she heard her mother's voice speak from the distant reaches of her
childhood.  Turning her head slowly to the left, Trisha realized that all
of the Sisters were undressing.  Then she felt someone kneel on the bed
close beside her.  It was her new friend, Karen.

   "Hi there, Trish, baby," the blond murmured.  "Why don't I help you get
a little more comfortable," she then offered as she slid her fingers under
the waist band of Trisha's jeans and began to fumble with the top button.
Karen was naked too.  Although she was unable to think clearly, Trisha's
expression plainly described her concern when the older girl unzipped her
jeans.  "Now, now, don't you worry, Sister," the older girl whispered. 
"We've all been right here where you are now," Karen said referring, of
course, to the rest of the female members of the gang.  Grasping Trisha's
jeans on either side of her narrow hips, Karen started tugging the tight
denim downward.  "It's a little scarey at first, I know, but Jonathon is
wonderful, I promise.  Pretty soon you're gonna feel better than you could
ever imagine." While she talked, Karen pulled Trisha's pants down passed
her knees, exposing her pale blue panties.  "Why don't you get her shoes
for me, Jamie," Karen said to the brunette who knelt next to them.  Jamie
immediately slid quietly off the bed, and Trisha felt her running shoes
being unlaced.

   Trisha was extremely confused.  "Was she having a nightmare?" she
wondered groggily.  She found herself thinking that she would soon awaken
and the disturbing images and sensations would all go away.  Trisha drifted
off.

   Then her friend, Karen was leaning over her again.  "Let's take your tee
shirt off, shall we." Then she added, "You look so pretty, Trish.  I know
Jonathon is pleased." Then as the older girl's fingers slipped beneath the
lower hem of her shirt, to Trisha's astonishment, Karen bent down and
kissed her full on the mouth.  It wasn't an affectionate little peck
either. Before Trisha could even think to turn her face away, she felt her
older friend's tongue dart between her lips and slide swiftly across the
smooth surface of her sparkling teeth.  Then Trisha felt Karen pull her tee
shirt up under her arms.  She hadn't started wearing a bra yet for so far
there was no need.  Trisha knew that she was being exposed but was unable
to do a thing to prevent it.  She watched as if from a distance, while her
more mature friend, slipped the straps of her tank top down over her
shoulders.  With a warm smile, Karen slid an arm under her back and raised
her up into a semi-seated position.  "You're a very sexy girl, Trish,"
Karen whispered gruffly into her ear as she pulled the tank top over
Trisha's head.  Then after lowering her back to the surface of the
"Ceremonial Altar", she took a minute to fix the younger girl's bangs.

   The next thing Trisha realized as she drifted in and out of a dreamlike
state, was that the man named Jonathon was standing at her feet, staring
down at her.  Seemingly from far away, Trisha heard the man remark, "You're
right, Karen.  Trisha is a very sexy young lady indeed." Barely conscious
now, Trisha felt herself blush hotly under Jonathon's gaze.  To be naked in
front of a man produced conflicting feelings within the young girl:
self-consciousness, fear, embarrassment and oddly enough, excitement.

   While the other girls looked on, Jonathon Beasley sat on edge of the
bed, swung his legs around and lay on his side next to Trisha, facing her.
She jumped beneath his touch when he placed a hand onto her naked shoulder.
Her skin was amazingly soft and warm.  Trisha stared into his eyes, her
face portrayed her alarm and confusion.  With a warm smile Jonathon
murmured to her, "You've never been with a man before, have you
sweetheart?" He moved his hand to Trisha's face and began to stroke her
cheek.  "I'm going to make it wonderful for you, I promise," the older man
said as he rubbed his thumb across Trisha's lips.

   Somehow, the groggy young girl managed to move her left arm, and with a
great deal of effort she was able to grab Jonathon by his left wrist in a
weak attempt to pull his hand away from her face.

   The bed moved on the other side of Trisha's prostrate form, then to her
surprise, Karen slid down beside her, and gently took Trisha's hand and
pulled it away.  After placing the young girl's arm back by her side where
she could do no more mischief, Karen whispered, "Now you be a good girl and
let Jonathon teach you, Trish.  Without his lessons and blessings, you
can't become a Full Sister of the Zipper." Karen squeezed Trisha's wrist
reassuringly.  "We're all here with you, Trish," Karen went on when she saw
the alarm flash in the pretty girl's eyes as a result of the fact that
Jonathon was beginning his examination of her undeveloped breasts.

   Trisha's areolae were only slightly smaller than a quarter, and there
was little to no trace of swelling beneath her smooth skin.  "Such pretty
little titties," Jonathon Beasley muttered as he moved his finger in slow
circles over the silky surface of Trisha's left areola.  The tiny bud in
the center of the satin disk began to stiffen.  Jonathon spread his fingers
apart and swept them back and forth across the very tip of the sensitive
little nubbin.

   Karen watched the youngster's face while Jonathon touched her breasts.
Trisha was upset.  Of that fact there was no doubt, but underlying the more
obvious signs of distress, glowed an ember of innate curiosity.  Even
through her drug induced haze, Trisha experienced unfamiliar and exciting
new sensations she'd never felt before.  "We're all here for you, Trish,"
Karen repeated.  "Aren't we, Sisters?"

   Several new faces appeared over Trisha, as the young girls lent their
support.  "That's right, Trisha.  All of my girls are here with you,"
Jonathon said, smiling at the little winces he received when he pinched
first one tiny nipple, then the other.

   "Why don't you girls show your new sister how much you care for her,"
Jonathon suggested.  Almost instantly Trisha felt hands on her body.  The
Sisters of the Zipper touched her softly, as only young girls can.  They
rubbed her shoulders and neck.  They stroked her hair and her cheeks.  They
touched her lips, and her ears, then her chest.  Trisha lay dazed and
helpless while her new friends explored almost every inch of her body with
their gentle hands and nimble fingers; almost every inch.

   Karen had just pressed her lips to Trisha's when the pretty adolescent
suddenly moaned into her open mouth.  She felt the girl tremble and knew
precisely what had just happened.  Trisha moaned again.  Pulling her mouth
from that of the pretty twelve year old, Karen whispered,
"Shh...shh...shh...  It's alright Trish.  Just relax and let it happen."
Glancing downward out of the corner of her eye, Karen saw Jonathon's thick
wrist protruding from under the waist band of Trisha's panties.

   Jonathon had, of course, done this many times before.  While the other
girls distracted his new companion, he slowly moved his hand downward.  He
didn't touch her until the very last minute.  Then as Karen bent to kiss
the little beauty, Jonathon deftly slipped his fingers under the thin
elastic waist band and down into paradise.  He heard the girl moan into
Karen's mouth and felt her try to rotate her hips away from his exploring
hand.  Jonathon's fingers traveled quickly across Trisha's soft lower belly
until at last he pressed his finger tips against the warm, resilient flesh
of her narrow vulva.

   Jonathon Beasley had been with a lot of young women in his time, but
this sweet child was definitely his youngest to date.  To his great
delight, Jonathon was finding the experience to be every bit as thrilling
as he'd imagined.  The little beauty moaned again when without delay,
Jonathon wiggled his middle finger between the slender lips of her outer
labia.  Her hips jerked reflexively once or twice as he slowly caressed the
highly sensitive folds that no man had touched before.  She was moist, but
not wet.  Jonathon heard Karen murmuring to the young girl as he removed
his hand from Trisha's panties and sat up beside her.  His other girls
shifted to make room for him when Jonathon suddenly muttered, "Let's take
these down, now." Hooking his thumbs under the waist band of Trisha's
panties, the attractive leader of the Zipper gang, stripped the small
garment down to her ankles.  Jonathon then slipped off the bed and stood at
Trisha's feet.  Reaching down, he removed the panties from her feet and
brought them up to his face.  Nuzzling his lips and nose into the soft
material, still warm from the heat of her nubile body, Jonathon inhaled
deeply of Trisha Nelson's intoxicating scent.

   The girl's heady bouquet on the warm cotton compelled Jonathon to move
on.  He spent a minute studying Trisha before he knelt at her feet beside
the bed.  Her hips were rather narrow, and her legs were long and slim. 
Her tummy was flat, and between her smooth thighs, her narrow womanhood
rose in a pronounced arch, totally devoid of pubic fur.  As he'd discovered
from his earlier tactile inspection of Trisha, her labia majora were
slender, yet nicely plump, and between them just a hint of her inner lips
could be seen.  It was time for Jonathon to meet the girl first hand.

   He got the attention of two of his young assistants, and while Karen
continued to distract the child with kisses, Jonathon's two helpers each
raised one of Trisha's legs enough for him to slide under them.  Next the
two helpful girls lowered Trisha's legs across Jonathon's broad shoulders,
allowing her heels to rest once again on the surface of the bed on either
side of his body.  Trisha Nelson lay open before Jonathon like a ripe
melon.

   A moment later, he dropped his face between her legs and completely
covered Trisha with his mouth.  The young girl heaved her hips upward
against Jonathon's mouth as his tongue darted over her.  Trisha's savory,
pre-pubescent flavor was like ambrosia beneath his tongue.  A luxuriant
musky sweetness with just a hint of saltiness greeted Jonathon's lips as he
gently kissed and suckled the soft folds of femininity between Trisha
Nelson's trembling thighs.  The sweet child instinctively pressed her
thighs together, hugging his head in a warm embrace.

   With Karen on one end and Jonathon on the other, the two older members
of the Zipper gang entertained young Trisha orally for close to fifteen
minutes.  When at last Jonathon Beasley raised his mouth from his sweet
feast, his nose, cheeks and mouth glistened with her nubile nectar. 
Performing cunnilingus on the slender twelve year old had been one of the
most erotic experiences that Jonathon could remember.

   The Chieftain of the Zippers located Trisha's panties and used them to
wipe her essence off of his lips and nose, before he slipped out from under
her legs and stood up beside the bed.  Then he stood for several minutes,
watching Karen and the girls with their newest sister.  It was a touching
scene.  He watched Trisha arch her back and writhe under the delicate
attentions of his sweet assistants.  In a few minutes they'd have her ready
for him.

   Leaving the girls to their work for the time being, Jonathon stepped to
a small desk on one side of the room.  There on the desk top waiting for
him was his initiation kit.  Picking up the small black leather case,
Jonathon returned to the ceremonial bed and its busy group of young
occupants.  One of the girls had taken his place between Trisha's thighs
while Karen continued to kiss the her deeply.  The rest of the sisters
crowded around the recumbent young lady, moving their delicate hands over
every square inch of her slim body.

   Anticipating their Chieftain's wishes, a few of the girls moved away
from Trisha's right side so that Jonathon could move onto the bed beside
her once again.  After opening the black case and placing it onto the bed ,
he carefully picked up Trisha's right arm.  Judging from her lack of
resistance, Jonathon surmised that his little cocktail had the girl pretty
thoroughly in its clutches.  "It's time to liven you up some, little lady,"
he muttered under his breath as he studied the pale skin in the crotch of
Trisha's elbow.  "Then you and I are going to becoe very good friends," he
added with a chuckle.  With his thumb, Jonathon massaged the tender skin on
the inside of the little girl's arm.  "You've got very small veins, my dear
girl, but I think 'Doctor Jonathon' can work with you.  Let's give it a
try, OK." He lay her arm gently onto the bed.

   Jonathon removed a short piece of surgical tubing from his kit and
looped it loosely around Trisha's arm just above the elbow.  The Sisters
saw to it that Trisha was thoroughly distracted so that she didn't notice
when Jonathon pulled the tourniquet tight.  Then he waited.

   After several seconds one thin dark line rose beneath her pale skin. 
"It'll just have to do," Jonathon muttered as he dabbed at the inside of
Trisha's elbow with an alcohol wipe.  The alcohol vapor, to a degree, acted
like smelling salts, and as Jonathon removed the clear glass 3cc hypodermic
syringe from his kit, Trisha suddenly opened her eyes and peered up at him.
The girl's eyes grew wide with fright when she watched Jonathon hold the
pre-loaded syringe up to the light and thump on the side of its barrel with
his index finger.  Next he carefully depressed the glass plunger until one
single sparkling drop of its contents appeared at the beveled tip of the
needle.  This process served to dislodge any air bubbles that might have
been trapped in the hypodermic.  Anticipating a potential problem due to
Trisha's slight build, Jonathon had selected a very fine needle.  It would
cause the injection to take a bit longer, but would assure a complete
delivery.

   Trisha's face became a mask of fear as Jonathon lowered the syringe,
moving its needle sharp tip toward her arm.  His able young assistants
restrained Trisha's shoulders while Jonathon held her arm tightly with his
free hand.  She made a high pitched whining sound.  "Hush now, sweetheart.
This won't hurt one bit," the Chieftain of the Zipper's murmured.

   Trisha's tender skin dimpled inward for a fraction of a second before
the thin needle pushed through.  Jonathon felt her tremble in his grip. 
"Hold still now, and this will all be over in no time," he cautioned the
frightened girl.  Jonathon breathed a silent sigh of relief when he felt
the slight resistance of the vein wall.  Then with a barely noticeable
"thump", detectable through the barrel of the syringe, the tip of the
needle entered the young girl's circulatory system.

   "Mmmm," Trisha whined softly.

   "Shh...shh...shh," Jonathon whispered.  "We're almost there," he said,
his voice hushed with concentration.  He had to be extremely careful not to
push the needle all the way through the vein.  Holding the barrel of the
hypodermic absolutely still, Jonathon gently drew back on the plunger. 
"There we are," he murmured to himself when he saw the tiny plume of bright
red blood jet into the crystal clear solution of clinical grade cocaine
hydroxide contained within the barrel of the syringe.  The contents of the
syringe quickly turned a translucent pink as it mixed with Trisha's blood.

   He was in.  Jonathon thought of the delights soon to come as he smoothly
depressed the plunger, injecting the powerful drug into the young girl.  As
long as he left the tourniquet in place, very little of the potent cocaine
would escape into the rest of Trisha's system until he was ready for her.
When most of the contents of the syringe had disappeared into Trisha's arm,
he stopped.

   "If one of you would be so kind as to assist me, we're almost ready to
begin," Jonathon said to the group of young ladies who'd gathered closely
around to witness the thrilling event.

   "I'll help," one girl said as she slid carefully off the bed.

   "Thank you, Wendy," Jonathon murmured.  "I know that we're in capable
hands," he said.

   Getting back to the business at hand, Jonathon slowly pulled back on the
plunger of the hypodermic.  He watched the clear glass barrel turn dark red
as it slowly filled with Trisha's blood.

   This procedure is known as "booting", and by mixing the remainder of the
cocaine with a some of the girl's blood, he'd know that a complete dose
would be delivered..  When the syringe was about half filled, Jonathon
again pressed the plunger forward, this time injecting the entire contents
of the hypodermic into Trisha.

   "There we are, my dear," Jonathon said huskily as he pulled the needle
out of the little girl's arm.  One of the Sisters dabbed the injection site
with an alcohol wipe while Jonathon lay the empty syringe aside.  Still in
a partially sedated state, Trisha stared muzzy eyed up at Jonathon as he
rose to his knees on the big bed beside her.

   He moved a little faster now.  Sliding his hands under Trisha's calves,
Jonathon raised her knees up.  "You're about to begin a new life, my dear
girl," he murmured as with a little help from two of his assistants,
Jonathon separated Trisha's knees and spread her legs widely apart.

   As he did he felt the Sister named Wendy dab at his right ankle with an
alcohol wipe.  He remembered his times with Miss Wendy.  Jonathon had been
her first as well.  This morning it would be Wendy's duty to administer his
dosage of the potent stimulant drug at just right moment.  All of his girls
had been thoroughly trained in the technique of intravenous injection. 
Wendy, in fact, had helped him before in this exact same endeavor, and
Jonathon was confident in her ability and timing.

   Trisha's alarm was much more pronounced now, as the man crawled between
her legs.  "Whaaaaaa?" she cried, gazing up at Jonathon, who was in the
process of hoisting up his robes.  "Nnnoooo!" Trisha whined as she looked
to Karen for sympathy and deliverance.  The man scooted forward so that the
tops of his hairy thighs pressed against the underside of Trisha's slim
legs.

   Trisha was helpless before him now.  She'd seen a few "dirty magazines"
and had a pretty good idea what was about to happed to her.  It was the
knowledge of the details of the impending event that she lacked.

   "Just relax, now, Trish," Karen murmured in an effort calm the
frightened twelve year old.  "It's all perfectly natural, and Jonathon is
real gentle.  Aren't you Jonathon?" the blond teenager said, looking up at
her Chieftain.

   "That's right, little one," Jonathon cooed as he stroked himself to full
erection beneath his robe.  He purposely kept himself out of sight so as
not to further alarm his intended.  Then he leaned over Trisha, supporting
his weight with one hand on the bed next to the young girl's shoulder. 
"Are you ready Wendy, my dear?"

   "Yes, Jonathon," the girl replied dutifully.  She'd already applied a
tourniquet around the his lower calf, just above the ankle, and on her
leader's signal, she pushed the point of the second syringe into the
bulging vein at his right ankle.

   "The tourniquet, please, Karen," Jonathon said.  Then as the blond girl
snapped the rubber tubing off of Trisha's arm, he leaned forward and
brought himself against the young girl.  "This is your special day, Trisha.
Today you leave your childhood behind you and join the Sisterhood."

   There were few things that Jonathon enjoyed more than deflowering a
young girl.  He had personally helped eleven of the sixteen young ladies
present in the room that morning to make that most memorable journey out of
childhood, and Trisha Nelson would make his score an even dozen.  Jonathon
waited, poised at her gates, for the unmistakable signs of the cocaine rush
to show itself in his young companion.  He did not have long to wait.

   Trisha's lovely face was a symphony of concern, mixed with curiosity
when she first felt him press against her most intimate flesh.  It was like
nothing she'd ever experienced.  A smooth, glowing heat and the sensation
of mild pressure.

   Then, as Jonathon gazed down at his sweet prize her eyes began to grow
wide and staring.  Her facial expression became on of puzzled
introspection, almost as though she were looking through him.  "Now,
please, Wendy, my dear," Jonathon said and began to push with his hips.

   It was as though a wave had washed over her as the precursor of the
powerful stimulant assaulted Trisha's nervous system.  At the same time she
felt an unfamiliar mounting pressure between her legs.  The young girl had
no time to consider its source, however, as the second and far more
formidable wave of omnipotence began to build to a crescendo. 
"Huuuuhhhhhh," Trisha gasped as the full force of the cocaine struck like a
tsunami.  Sounds around her rose and fell in volume, reverberating crazily.
A feeling of raw, animal power swept through her, obliterating all other
physical sensation, including the ever increasing stinging, feeling of
tearing and stretching, the exact source of which, she was no longer
certain.  Around the perimeter of her ever narrowing field of vision loomed
the faces of her sisters to be, and in its center was the face of Jonathon
Beasley surrounded by a sizzling aura of light energy.  "Muuuhhhh," Trisha
huffed as she gazed upward into the face of her Chieftain.  There were
hands on her body.  Hands everywhere, touching, stroking.

   Jonathon Beasley was not an overly well endowed man, which was just as
well, considering his tastes for younger partners.  Besides his group of
sisters, most of whom he'd personally assisted into womanhood, Jonathon had
been with countless other partners, but none held a candle to this little
lady.  As his own dosage of cocaine began to take effect, Jonathon could
feel the young girl begin to dilate around the tip of his manhood.  This
being his first experience with a girl of Trisha's age, he wasn't sure if
he would be successful on his first attempt at entry, but as the cocaine
induced rush of unlimited power washed through him, Jonathon gave one
forceful thrust of his hips.  He felt her tear, and with a cry of surprise
more so than pain, Trisha Nelson gave up her childhood to him.

   Jonathon proceeded very slowly with Trisha.  He knew that there would be
some pain involved with her passage into womanhood.  There always was.  He
also knew if he introduced himself into her gradually, allowing her
unseasoned internal musculature to adjust to his presence that she would
have a much easier time of it.  It wasn't easy going for Jonathon, however.
The youngster was extremely tight, and her instincts were to resist his
intrusion.

   "Oww," she moaned.  The look on her face was one of confusion, mostly.

   "Just relax, baby, and let your Chieftain make everything wonderful for
you," the older man murmured as he lowered his body downward onto her
prostrate form.  He felt her small body tremble beneath him as he rested
his elbows on the bed on either side of Trisha's head.  "Just relax,
sweetheart," Jonathon Beasley whispered, his lips just inches from hers. 
Then, as he carefully eased another inch of himself into his young partner,
Jonathon began showering soft kisses onto Trisha's cheeks and eyes and
nose. At last, Jonathon covered her small mouth with his.  The Sisters of
the Zipper looked on as the muscles of his buttocks flexed from his
persistent effort.

   Wave after wave of scintillating energy flowed through Trisha until
every nerve ending in her body sizzled with increased sensitivity.  Her
vision narrowed to the point where she saw the room as if from the end of a
small bore pipe, and as she stared upward through uncomprehending eyes her
lover's face loomed into view then blurred as he moved down toward her. 
His lips were hot against her cheeks and eyelids, then suddenly his tongue
was in her mouth, searching, probing.

   The stinging sensation she'd felt moments ago was gone and in its place
was the rapidly increasing sensation of pressure and heat.  Trisha's tummy
bulged outward, and she groaned into her lover's mouth, as her world began
to revolve around the unfamiliar yet utterly enthralling presence in the
very center of her being.

   During his first foray into her depths Jonathon Beasley was able to
introduce approximately five inches of himself into his little lover before
he felt the head of his penis press against the back of her unseasoned
vaginal passage.  Once there, he held perfectly still for several minutes,
reveling in the feeling of her nubile muscles as they contracted around
him, clutching him in a warm, steely soft grip.  He felt soft puffs of her
breath against his cheek as she exhaled through her nose while Jonathon
kissed her passionately.  Then slowly, he began to move.

   The minutes seemed like hours, and time seemed to compress for Trisha as
the older man made love to her, slowly at first, then with ever increasing
enthusiasm.  Later when Trisha recalled this, her first love affair, she
would remember it as a rapid series of still images, much like a high speed
slide show.  One moment, Jonathon's body covered hers, and she felt the
weight and heat of him on top of her.  Then he was kneeling between her
legs.  Jonathon placed her legs over his, and then taking her slim thighs
in his big hands, he pulled Trisha onto himself again and again.

   Trisha's Nelson's world became a spell binding progression of exquisite
carnal delights, each one new and unfamiliar.  Faces loomed into view. 
Incomprehensible sounds reverberated at the edge of her consciousness as
Trisha became marginally aware of a tumult of activity all around her on
the "Ceremonial Altar" as other couples paired up and got down to business.
Dazzling auras flickered at the perimeter of her vision, and through it
all, an incessant and purposeful thrusting heat alternately infused her
then withdrew, leaving her empty and wanting.

   Then suddenly Jonathon's face loomed over her.  Trisha gazed up at her
lover.  Blue/white fire crackled around him as he murmured something
unintelligible to her.

   His first salvo was like a physical blow, causing Trisha to grunt in
surprise.  Her innocent blue eyes flew open in response to the unexpected
sensation of an all encompassing liquid heat which spread quickly through
her lower anatomy.  Then like the mercury in a thermometer the inferno rose
upward, until Trisha could feel his warmth behind her eyes.  His first
offering was followed quickly by a second.  Trisha was stretched rather
tightly around Jonathon's girth, leaving no escape route for the mounting
hydraulic pressure, and as a result her otherwise flat tummy bulged outward
as she accepted a goodly quantity of Jonathon Beasley's bodily fluid into
her interior.

   Trisha took more than one lover that day, but just exactly how many, she
would never really know for sure.  Once the Chieftain was finished with her
"initiation", another male Zipper jumped right in to fill his spot, and so
on, and so on.  To Trisha the occasion was nothing but a blur of flesh. 
Hands were everywhere, touching her everywhere, and lips covered her body
with kisses.  Tongues licked and mouths sucked, and always there was the
omnipresent fullness, thrusting again and again into her very center.

   At some point when she was with her second or third lover, Trisha
climaxed.  It was an experience like nothing she could ever have imagined.
As waves of sensual energy passed through every fiber of her body, Trisha
felt gentle lips upon hers.  Slowly she opened her eyes and focused on the
person kissing her.  It was Karen.  Trisha would always remember the image
of her new friend leaning over her and smiling.  Later, she and Karen would
go on to develop a strong bond, and the two girls would become almost
inseparable.  That is, of course, when Trisha had free time.

   Trisha's new life as a Sister of the Zipper proved to be an active one.
She learned from the other girls that as a Full Sister, she had certain
responsibilities and duties to perform.  It was understood that any gang
member, and at times guests of Jonathon's, could request the company of the
Sister of his choosing when ever he wished.  Since Trisha was new and
fresh, her services were naturally in great demand for many weeks following
her "initiation ceremony".  The male members of the gang and a few of the
girls kept her quite busy, and in no time at all, Trisha Nelson became a
very well educated young lady.  And along with that education, the Zippers
provided Trisha with that which she had always desired.  Companionship.
   End...SM