Message-ID: <54568asstr$1158945005@assm.asstr.org>
From: "Samantha" <samanthak@fastmail.fm>
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Subject: {ASSM} Sam - Part 6 (FF, MF, tort, exhib, size, viol)
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Date: Fri, 22 Sep 2006 13:10:05 -0400
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Thanks to everyone who sent such sweet comments on the first parts.
I promise to try to get the rest posted ASAP.
-- 
  Samantha
  samanthak@fastmail.fm

-- 
http://www.fastmail.fm - Or how I learned to stop worrying and
                          love email again

<1st attachment, "Sam - Part6.doc" begin>

Sam - Part 6

by Samantha K
(FF, MF, tort, exhib, size, viol)
[comments welcome: SamanthaK(at)fastmail.fm]

I woke to the sound of the clock radio as a man described the
warm weather that would be moving inland from the Gulf.  I turned
it off and ran to the bathroom to shower and brush my teeth.  In
a rush, I did my hair, checked my makeup and applied some
perfume.  When I was ready, I went across the hall to Bud's room
to give him his wake-up call.

When I eased open his bedroom door I could hear snoring.  I
tiptoed across the room and slipped into the bed with Bud.  I had
been planning this ever since we talked about it and I was
soaking wet with anticipation as well as aching with need.

I slid my hand over under the sheet and touched his cock.  It was
literally as hard as a stick of wood.  I tried to circle it with
my hand, but my fingers only went part way around.  It felt much
bigger and harder than before and I had a quick second-thought
about letting him stick this monster in my pussy.  The qualm
evaporated immediately as my pussy spoke for itself by getting
even hotter and wetter.  I could feel the muscles inside start to
twitch as they anticipated being stretched around a real cock for
the very first time.

I crawled over Bud and straddled his hips.  His big cock was so
hard that it was standing up at an angle that was perfect for me.
 I lined up my pussy and started to push down onto it.  When the
broad head pressed against my opening, I had that same fear that
it would be just too big for me to take.  I tried to relax and
open for him as much as possible as I put more of my weight on
it.  It felt like I was trying to fuck a log.  To be perfectly
honest, it hurt a hell of a lot and the only reason I kept going
was pure determination that it was high time I learned what
fucking was all about.  

I had to push and stop and breathe and relax a couple of times
before I felt the head slip in and lock into place in my tight
hole.  The pain peaked; then eased off a bit and I took this as
my point of no return.  There would be no backing out now.  

The sensation of fullness with just the head in me was still
almost too much to stand.  I was panting with the heat building
up inside me and I was almost crazed with lust now that I had
part of Bud's thing in me.  Nothing was going to keep me from
impaling myself completely on that magnificent cock.

I clenched my teeth, pushed down hard and started to squirm my
hips around to work more of it inside.  Every time I got another
inch in, I had to stop and fight off the pain, and then when that
faded, I had to fight the urge to cum.  At some point I felt
Bud's hands on my hips, pulling me down onto him.  He pushed up
with his hips and I almost lost it as several more inches were
forced into my willing hole.  As he worked his cock into me, the
glorious sensation of being filled took over and I started
squirming uncontrollably.

During the third or fourth pause to let the discomfort ease off,
I put my hand between my legs and felt around to see how things
were going.  I was surprised to find that my inner labia had been
shoved completely inside and my outer lips were stretched out
flat.  The remaining ring of skin was stretched paper-thin around
Bud's cock and my clit had disappeared.

The discovery that Bud's big cock had so distorted my anatomy
drove me right over the edge.  I lost control and started
cumming.  The feeling of being stuffed absolutely full of cock
was too much to take and I collapsed onto Bud's chest with my big
boobs squashed between us.  Bud put his hands on my hips and
pulled back slightly.  In anticipation of his thrust I tried to
relax, but I had no control.  My pussy was out of control;
spasming and caressing his cock all on its own.  I had wondered
what I should do when I finally had a real cock inside me, but I
needn't have worried, my body was responding all by itself with
no help from my dizzy head.

This was nothing at all like the plastic and gel dildos that
Bambi and I had used.  They had been fun, but this was so much
better there was no comparison whatsoever.  This was far and away
the best thing I had ever done or felt.  This made all the sex I
had ever had up to this moment seem inconsequential.  I was
finally in the game and it was so much better than I had ever
imagined that I wanted to cry over all the time I had missed.

Bud jerked his hips up then and slammed his huge cock as far as
he could into my pussy.  I felt his balls fly up and brush my
butt as he buried most of that big cock in me.  My eyes rolled
and my mouth dropped open, the pain and remorse totally
forgotten.  This was so much more intense than I had ever
imagined.  The feeling made me too weak to move and I was totally
at his mercy as he started to work his hips.  

At first, he just moved my insides around.  My pussy had
tightened its grip on his cock so tight that he couldn't move. 
We were locked together.  It took a few minutes before he had
enough of my juice worked around so that he could start fucking
me.

He pulled out just a little bit and pushed back in.  Then he
pulled out a little bit more and pushed back in again. 
Gradually, he worked up to being able to fuck three or four
inches in and out of me and he stayed with that rhythm.

I was limp and utterly helpless.  I was cumming continuously just
from having his cock in me.  Fucking me was only for his benefit.
 I had no choice and could make no effort, I simply let him fuck
me.  It was the first time I had ever completely surrendered to
the needs of someone else and it felt wonderful to be used like
that.  I was his plaything, his fuck-toy.  I lay my head on his
shoulder and let him take me.  Every so often, my climax would
ease a bit and I would kiss his neck to let him know that I was
still conscious.

After a while he rolled us over so he could be on top.  He used
the advantage to shove harder and pump more of his cock into me.
In this position he was able to drive so deep that I felt his
cock push past my cervix and hit the deepest part of my vagina. 
The sensation was unbelievable.  I hooked my heels around his
waist and rocked my hips up to meet his thrusts.  With every
stroke he tried to cram more of his cock into me.  He pushed
deeper and deeper, stretching me a little more each time.  It was
like he was reaming me out deeper and wider, turning me into a
proper receptacle for his big cock.  I felt like hot metal on a
blacksmith's anvil as he pounded away, reforming me to better
suit his needs.

He held his chest off me by bracing himself stiff-armed on the
bed.  I would not have minded if he laid his full weight on me,
and I started to try to pull him down, but he resisted.  I
managed to pry my eyes open and looked up at his face.  He was
looking at me, studying me as we fucked.  His eyes roved up and
down my body, watching how I was responding to him.  

I was flattered.  I tried to look sexy for him.  I pursed my lips
and licked them.  I moaned loudly, giving a voice to the amazing
feelings that wracked my body.  I played with my breasts,
squeezing them and pulling on my nipples while looking at his
eyes to see what he liked.  After a little bit of this, I really
got into it.  I even started talking to Bud, trying to tell him
what he was doing to me.

"God! You've got a big cock!  It feels soooo good inside me. 
Fuck me with that big cock, Bud.   Fuck my little pussy!  Yes! 
Oh yes!  Fuck me good.  I'm cumming Bud.  I'm cumming all over
your big cock..  Can you feel me cum on your cock, Bud?  Make me
cum harder.  C'mon, fuck me harder. Yes!  Fuck me, you big stud.
Fuck me good with that giant cock!  I'm cumming hard for you. 
I'm cumming so hard."

It all started off sounding so hokey to my ears that I was
embarrassed to say some of it, but once I got started, I realized
that it was turning me on even more and it seemed to be really
getting to Bud.  He started humping me faster and faster and I
could feel the muscles in his back bunching under my hands.  The
ones on his neck were standing out with the strain.  His face was
a mask of pure lust.  I decided that if he liked me talking dirty
to him that much that it wasn't so corny after all.  I tried
again.

"Ooooooohhhh, Bud!  That feels fucking fanstastic!  Oh, you are
fucking me so good I can't stand it.  You're going to fuck my
brains right out.  Oh, my poor pussy will never be the same
again.  You're stretching me out so gooooood.  I'm going to be
ruined for anyone else.  Do you want to ruin my pussy, Bud?  Do
you want to ruin me for any cock but yours?"

That got him going faster and harder than I thought it possible
for him to go.  He just turned into a fucking machine   a
jackhammer in my pussy.  I was on the verge of passing out from
what he was doing to me.  I decided to go for broke.

"Oh Bud!  You're fantastic.  I'm yours Bud.  My pussy is all
yours.  Are you going to cum in me Bud?  Are you going to fill my
pussy up with your cum?  I want to feel you cumming in me.  I
want you to fill my pussy.  Cum in me Bud.  I want you to cum in
my pussy.  Pleeeeeeease!"

The final plea did it.  Bud went crazy.  He fucked me so hard and
so fast that I bounced up off the bed.  I had to lock my legs
around him and hang on tight to keep from being fucked right off
the bed onto the floor.  Bud slammed his cock deep inside me and
ground his hips into mine.  He arched his back and picked me
right up off the bed with his arms locked around my back
squeezing me in a bear hug.  He held me like that for several
seconds while the cum boiled up out of his balls and into my
eager pussy.

When the first blast hit the back of my vagina, my pussy went
crazy, grabbing and squeezing his cock like it wanted to milk him
of every drop.  I felt him spurt into me over and over again. 
Every time he would shudder and hold me tighter.  It felt like he
was trying to pump every bit of cum he could into my pussy.  I
lost count of the number of times he spurted, but it must have
been some kind of record. 

I held onto Bud tightly while he poured his essence into me.  He
had risen up on his knees on the bed and taken me with him.  I
was wrapped around him and his cock was buried as deeply inside
me as it would go.  We were both at the peak of our orgasms and
it felt so damn good that I never wanted it to stop.

Eventually, he collapsed backwards to sit on his heels with me in
his lap, his cock still firmly embedded in me.  The force of
landing on the base of it suddenly forced my pussy open much
wider and, although it should have hurt, I felt only a great wave
of pleasure.  He eased off on the bear hug he had me in and as
our climax faded, he started to kiss me and stroke my back.

"Now that," he said huskily, "is a wake-up call.  You can wake me
up like that any day of the week, even on the weekend.  Hell,
especially on the weekend when we have more time.  Now, we better
hurry if we don't want to be late for school!"

School didn't seem very important to me at the moment.  Nothing
did, except staying right where I was as long as I could.  Still,
Bud wanted to get up, so I tried to unwind and get my legs under
me.  It was hard in the position we were in.  His cock was still
in me and felt like it was glued into my pussy. When I tried to
pull off, it wouldn't let go.

"You're going to have to pry me off of your cock, lover." I said.
 "My pussy doesn't want to let go.  I hope we're not stuck
permanently!"  I was teasing with that last, but it was a nice
fantasy.  I felt like I wanted to stay stuck on him for a long
time.  When he took his cock out, I was going to feel soooo
empty.

Bud lay me down on my back and I took my legs from around his
back.  He braced his arms under mine and tried to back his cock
out of me.  At first, he dragged me with him.

"You've got to let go," he said, jerking his hips.  My pussy
muscles refused to let loose of the object that had given me more
pleasure than I had ever known.

"I can't!  We're stuck!  You'll have to pull it out." I told him.
 I wasn't really trying very hard to relax my pussy.  I wanted to
make him work to get out of me.  I wanted him to understand that
my body wanted him and did not want to let him go.

"'K.  Hang on."  He pushed my knees up under my breasts.  Pushing
on the backs of my thighs, he tried to pull his cock out of me. 
Even with leverage, it was slow going.  He grimaced as he slowly
pulled it out of my tight grip.  Bud and my pussy were playing
tug-of-war with his cock.

"Damn, that's tight," he said when he had almost three inches
out.  "I don't want to hurt..."  He stopped pulling and fell back
on his elbows, laughing.  "I almost said, 'I don't want to hurt
you'.  I keep forgetting who you are.  Hold on."  He swung his
legs up beside me and put his feet under my armpits.  Then he
used the strength of his legs to pull his cock slowly out of me.
Even this way, it took some time to work it free.

When the head finally came out, there was a loud, POP and Bud
fell back on the foot of the bed, laughing.  He reversed his
position and put his head between my legs and looked curiously at
my pussy.

I slid a hand between my legs and into the wide gap that used to
be my small vaginal opening.  I was right.  It felt very, very
empty without a cock in it.  I pressed my labia together to try
and shut the cavern he had made in me, but the empty feeling
persisted and I knew I had been changed yet again.  A big hard
cock was no longer something I desired; it was something I was
going to need from this moment on.

"Nice pussy," he said, bending down to kiss the swollen lips that
I was holding shut.  "Pretty pussy.  Strong pussy!"  I got the
feeling he knew I hadn't been trying to help him get free and he
appreciated the compliment that implied.  

"That was fantastic, Bud." I told him, stroking his face.  "Thank
you."

"Damn girl!  Don't thank me.  You are the finest piece of ass
I've ever had and I had ass all the way from here to the end of
the driveway!"  We both laughed at that and I crawled back into
his arms.  He was right.  Neither of us was all that experienced,
but it was hard to imagine that sex could be much better.  

"Seriously," he said, "I want you to crawl into this bed any time
you want to.  Hell, I wish you would stay all night."  He stopped
there.  I had the feeling that he did not want to push his luck
too far.

"Do you mean that?" I asked.  "Do you really want me to sleep
with you?  I mean spend all night in your bed and wake up
together?"

"Sure!" he said.

"Because I would really like to do that, Bud.  I would like to
sleep with you."

"OK.  But tell you what   we probably won't sleep too much, so
let's wait until the weekend to do it.  That way we can stay up
all night if we want and not have to worry about school.  Is that
all right?"

"That's a wonderful idea!" I said.  "It's a date!  Friday night
we will spend all night together.  Oh, I can't wait!  Now we
better hurry and get ready or we will be late."

Bud went to take a shower and I waddled back across the hall with
my fingers holding my pussy closed so I wouldn't leak cum all
over the carpet.  For a moment, I toyed with the idea of trying
to keep it inside me so I could walk around all day full of cum.
The idea of that was more attractive than the reality of having
to deal with having to wear a pad when I wasn't having my period,
so I left that for another time and instead raced into the
bathroom and jumped onto the toilet.  

I had no sooner taken my hand away than a thick stream of cum
flowed out of my gaping pussy to plop into the bowl.  I sat with
my knees wide apart and stared at my poor pussy as it drooled
cum.  There wasn't as much as it had felt like when he was
putting it all in there.  

It looked like it had been more than a fantasy about Bud
'ruining' me.  Where before my opening had been a half-inch
across and two fingers felt big to me, now I was open more than
two inches and could easily fit three fingers inside with no
effort.  I thought I should feel sad at the apparent devastation,
but I found it impossible to wipe the grin off my face as I
remembered Bud pounding his huge cock into me.  Between Bud and
Jim, I was going to get quite a lot more stretching by some
really big cocks.  Instead of making me sad, imagining that
prospect almost made me cum again.

I remembered Bambi's advice to practice voluntary control of my
vaginal muscles.  I was going to have to do that regularly if I
was to keep in shape for my well-hung lovers.  I tried to use
them to squeeze the rest of the cum out of me and was rewarded by
a stream of white goo oozing out to splash into the toilet bowl.
Apparently I had some degree of good control already.  I just
needed some way to remind myself to exercise so I could get
better.

I straddled the bidet to finished cleaning myself out and
discovered just what a wonderful invention it really was.  I
showered quickly and ran a hot-comb through my hair to get it to
behave.

It was only when I was ready to get dressed that I remembered
something in the toy-drawer that might be helpful in keeping my
vaginal muscles toned and buff.  I pulled it open and after a
little rummaging through the toys, I found a small blue velvet
bag with some stainless-steel balls in it.  Some of them were
marble-sized and some were almost the size of ping-pong balls.
They all were hollow with smaller heavier balls inside them so
when I moved, the smaller balls would roll around and make the
larger spheres move like Mexican jumping beans.

Since I was so stretched-out, I picked the larger size and pushed
two of them inside me.  They felt very nice in there.  There was
no way I could forget about them and that would remind me to
exercise; something I could do by moving the balls around with my
vaginal muscles.  They were discreet and handy.  I thought they
were the perfect solution to my problem.  I practiced a bit and I
quickly found that I could roll both balls around inside me with
my pussy muscles alone.  Just the effort of holding them in had
already made my slack opening close up some, although it was far
from its original condition.

In my closet, I picked out one of my new school outfits, a white
cotton blouse and a pleated skirt that came almost to my knees. 
I also wore one of my comfortable nursing bras and a pair of lacy
panties.  With a pair of white socks and cross-trainers I had the
perfect school-girl look.  The only thing I worried about was how
my friends and schoolmates would react to my new bust.  I had
gone from a droopy D-cup to a very firm H or better over the
weekend.  My rather thin explanation was a growth-spurt, but
there were bound to be those who would be suspicious.  Bambi had
warned me about girls who would be envious and hate me on sight;
and told me that my body would be a high-gauss boy-magnet.

Somehow the problems I anticipated in school seemed less serious
than they had Friday night.  Something about finding that your
true calling in life was as a superheroine made those problems
that were less than cataclysmic seem truly mild.  Even the
upcoming math quiz failed to fill me with anything other than
curiosity.  I guess once you've wrestled with rapists and
murderers intent on making you their next victim, wrestling with
linear equations and matrix algebra isn't all that intimidating.
Still, I reminded myself, I had to study and practice to be able
to deal with both.

My only serious worry was how to tell the other members of the
Cheerleading squad that I was quitting.  I had my excuses ready,
but it seemed unfair to leave them this late in the year. 
Baseball season had just got underway and there would be two or
three games a week for the next two months.  That was time I just
couldn't spare any longer.

Mrs. Reynolds had a wonderful back-to-school breakfast ready when
I went downstairs.  I put my bookbag on the hall table and went
in to say good-morning to everyone.  Bud and Jim had gotten down
before me, but that wasn't surprising.  Even with my permanent
make-up, I still took much more time getting ready than they
did.

"Good morning everyone!" I called as I walked in.  I winked
discreetly at Bud, then I went around the table and kissed Bambi,
who immediately got up to bring me my plate of Eggs Benedict with
fresh Hollandaise sauce and a sprinkling of chives.  I had
already put in my two cents on the 'pearls before swine' point of
view on her cooking, so I put my mouth to better use by eating
every delicious bite on my plate and complimenting her on what an
excellent meal it was.  When your mother gets up early Monday
morning to prepare you a gourmet meal before you go off to
school, you can be sure that she loves you very, very much.

While we ate, she reminded us that the cleaning service would be
coming today and that if there was anything that we did not want
a stranger to see in our rooms that we should put it away before
we left.  I assumed that this was more directed at the boys than
at me and when I glanced over, I saw that neither of them was
meeting her gaze.  I wondered what they might have done to need a
warning like that.

She also told us that she would be changing the maid-service
schedule from two to three days a week: Monday, Wednesday and
Friday; and that she expected to be busy this week, so anyone who
needed to be driven somewhere had better say so well in advance
or they would find themselves traveling on shank's mare.  I
didn't understand that comment either, since both Bud and Jim
were old enough to drive themselves.  I had assumed that I was
the only one who would need to be taken places.

"Sam, I will call Bob Foster this morning and give him the VIN
number of the bike.  I assume you want the radio installed in the
workshop?"

"Yes, please."

"All right.  I will see to getting that room built-out.  I have a
contractor who I have used in the past who can handle it on short
notice.  Can you think of anything else you will need in the
workshop?"

"Let's see   the mats, the radio, the bike...no, I can't think of
anything right now, but I'm sure something will come up that I
haven't thought of."

"Well, if you think of something, let me know.  Otherwise, I will
use my best judgment."

"Great!  Thanks.  I'm sure it will be perfect."  Bambi seemed
really fired up over this.  She had seemed reluctant at first,
but when she found out that Neeka would be with me, she got more
on-board with the idea.  Since I now had the Sheriff's backing,
she seemed positively enthusiastic.

When I went down to feed Brute, he was off in the woods chasing
the wildlife, so I didn't get to say goodbye before I left for
school.  It was just as well, he would have messed up my clothes
wanting to play.

Jim, Bud and I walked off to school together.  Jim insisted on
carrying my bookbag, which I thought was sweet of him.  Bud
looked jealous that he hadn't thought of it.  Since I didn't have
to carry anything, I walked between them and held their hands.  I
thought that might embarrass them, but either I was wrong, or
they hid it well.

We had only got to the end of the block when I heard a familiar
voice behind us.

"Wait up!" Neeka called. We stopped so she could catch up.

"I thought you drove your car to school?" I asked, as she reached
the corner.

"Well, I usually do.  But I saw you guys walk by and I thought
I'd walk with you.  If you don't mind, that is."

I turned to Jim, "Do you mind if Neeka tags along, Jim?"  Jim was
looking at Neeka like she was the only person in the world.  He
was so lost that I had to prompt him again.  "Earth to Jim. 
Earth to Jim."

"Hunh?" he said, dully.  "Oh, no.  I mean, yes!  I mean...what
was the question again?"

Neeka looked at the ground and glanced at Jim every couple of
seconds without lifting her head.  I wanted to laugh out loud.  I
could see how she got a reputation for being shy, but I also saw
that it was mostly just an act she used to tease boys.  Seeing
these two behaving like this in broad daylight after hearing them
screwing like crazed weasels in Jim's bed was a riot.

Far be it from me to ruin someone else's game, though.  If they
wanted to act like seventh-graders around each other in public,
that was their right.  I took my bookbag from Jim and handed it
to Bud, then I took Neeka's books and gave them to Jim.  I took
Bud's hand and we crossed the street.  When I looked back, Jim
and Neeka were holding hands too and still hadn't said a word to
each other.  

Bud and I walked on together.  Neither of us said anything about
what we had done for fear of rekindling a spark that might get
out of hand.  We just hung onto each other and didn't split up
until we got to school and had to go to our separate homerooms. 




I got to my locker before the bell and was unloading books I
wouldn't need until later periods when I got my first comment on
my new figure.  Sandra Smith had elected herself to the position
of Miss Pain-in-the-Ass and she thoroughly enjoyed needling
anyone who dared to stand out by looking, dressing, or acting
different.  If she had been born a boy, she would have been
called a bully.  

"Well, look what we have here!"  Sandra said in her usual loud
obnoxious voice.

"Hi, Sandra.  Have a nice weekend?"  I said.  Being polite to her
never worked, but at least I could take the high road for the
benefit of onlookers.

"Looks like someone wants us to think she got herself a boob job
over the weekend!  Damn, Samantha, how stooopid do you think we
are?"

"I dunno, Sandra.  How stupid are you?"  I shouldn't have, but
when they open the door like that, it's hard to say 'no'.  

Repartee wasn't Sandra's strong suit.  She blinked a couple of
times before charging right ahead with her next asinine comment.

"Hey, Samantha!  How many boxes of tissue did it take to stuff
that bra, hunh?"

"None, Sandra.  These are real.  Would you like me to prove it?"

I think I stole her next line there.  She gaped at me and got
louder, but mercifully briefer.

"Uh...Yeah!  Prove it!"  At that moment, the bell rang and I was
saved any further embarrassment, since we were in different rooms
this period.

"OK, see you after first period."

"Yeah!" she shouted, in a voice loud enough to be heard all the
way down the hall.  

I honestly don't know why she decided to pick on me or what she
thought was going to happen after the next period.  If she
thought about it, she might realize that it was dumb to risk
humiliation over making an accusation on pure supposition and
with no hard evidence.  But then, thought itself was a stranger
to Sandra Smith.  She was a beneficiary of the policy of social
advancement; a doctrine that said that for the emotional
well-being of those with limited intelligence, they must not be
segregated from those capable of advanced education; thereby
sacrificing the education of the smart for the contentment of the
dumb.  It was ironic that the very people who thought of this
lunacy considered themselves to be smart and well educated.

My first class was Physics, which I enjoyed except for the math.
Mr. Turner wasn't a great teacher.  He went by-the-book with all
the lessons and demonstrations.  I liked his class because he did
the experiments himself, rather than relying on videos, that
crutch of the unimaginative and the poor planner.  Sometimes the
experiments didn't go right and he would spend the rest of the
period finding out why.  I think I learned more from watching him
go about finding out why something didn't work than I ever would
have by just seeing the demonstration go off as planned.  As a
teacher he sucked, but as an example of how scientists found
things out, he was a marvel.

After the bell ending the first period, I went down the hall to
meet Sandra.  She wasn't hard to find.

"Ah!  There you are!" she screamed, like I had been somehow
hiding by standing in the middle of the hall.

"OK Sandra.  Let's do this.  Come in here."  I held the door to
the girl's lavatory for her.  She balked.  Did she think I was
going to expose myself in the hallway?

"No.  You first." She insisted.  Her train of thought ran on a
very short track, indeed.  I think she expected me to lead her
into the restroom and then bolt off down the hall in full view of
everyone.

"Very well."  I went inside.   She followed, as did three girls
who considered Sandra's antics to be the height of entertainment
and two whom I was surprised to see there.  It only dawned on me
then that they were there for the show.  They were among those
who were attracted to me or were fascinated by my large breasts.
I smiled at them.  These might be some new playmates.

"OK, smartass!"  Sandra said.  "Now we'll see!"  She still could
not forecast the weather an inch from her nose.

I unbuttoned my blouse and pulled it out of my skirt, but did not
open it.  Instead I backed up against a sink and put my hands on
my hips.

"OK, Sandra.  Go ahead.  You want to see them so bad.  Help
yourself."

She stepped up to me and took hold on my blouse with a triumphant
glare.

"Go easy, lover." I told her in a sultry voice.  "I bruise
easily."

She flung my blouse open, holding it wide so everyone could see
my bra.  The nursing bra was form-fitting and snug but not tight.
 It was designed to be comfortable to women with swollen, aching
breasts.  It provided more support than I really needed and it
was wonderfully soft and stretchy.

Sandra still could not imagine being wrong.  Even though the bra
did nothing to hide my cleavage, she still looked at me like she
was on the verge of finding a secret horde of tissue on me.

I took hold of the inside edge of both cups and pulled them
aside, displaying my big boobs for everyone to see.  There was no
outpouring of paper, of course.  I heard three sharp gasps from
the audience; two from my girls and one from one of Sandra's. 
Sandra herself was apparently struck dumb.  She just stood and
stared down at my breasts as though hypnotized.  I tested that
theory by twisting slightly one way and then the other.  Sandra's
head followed my every move.

"Here," I said, taking her hands and placing them under my
breasts.  "Feel for yourself.  No implants.  No tissues.  Just
me."

Sandra followed instructions.  She squeezed gently and hefted and
stroked.

"Nice, aren't they?"  I asked in a low tone.  Sandra nodded. 
"You have a nice touch." I told her.  "That feels good.  You must
have done this before."

Sandra actually started to smile at me before her homophobia
reasserted itself and she pulled her hands away like she had
touched a hot stove.  She got this look of terror that told me
that she actually did like girls, but was in extreme denial over
it.  She raced from the room, banging into the heavy door on the
way.  Two of her friends followed her.

The three who were left were still staring at me.  I stood where
I was and stared back, smiling in a friendly way.  One girl edged
closer, then another.

"It's OK," I said.  "Look as much as you want.  You can touch
them too, if you like."

One brave girl actually took me at my word.  Oddly enough, it was
one of Sandra's hangers-on.  She stroked my breast and even
touched the nipple.  I smiled at her and put my arm around her
waist.

"I hope you are all satisfied that they are quite real?" I asked.
 All three nodded.  "Good.  Please tell your friends and anyone
interested that you can vouch for their authenticity.  I don't
want to have to keep doing this, even though it has been fun."  

The other two left to spread the word and I looked at the girl in
my arm.  She still had her hand on me.  It felt very warm.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Jolene Maddox."

"Well Jolene, we seem to be alone.  I won't tell anyone if you
want to play some more."

The idea shocked her for about a quarter of a second, then it
titillated and intrigued her.  She bent down and kissed one
breast and then the other.  Not a peck, either.  She pressed her
lips to my flesh and kissed with no small degree of passion.  
When she had finished, my nipples had visibly hardened.

"Look what you did," I told her, running my fingers around my
nipples.  She giggled.  I pulled the bra cups back into place and
buttoned my blouse.  "Jolene, you and I are going to be good
friends."  She smiled broadly at the prospect.  I hugged her to
me and kissed her neck, just below her ear.  She giggled again. 
It was a pleasant sound.

Jolene and I left together and walked a ways down the hall before
going to different classrooms.  I remembered her being in at
least one other class of mine so I would be seeing her again
today.  She might not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but
she was nice and that was certainly better than the alternative.
Not all your friends can be really smart or really pretty or have
great bodies or be great conversationalists.  Sometimes 'nice' is
all people have to offer.  I resolved to be kind to everyone not
actively looking to piss me off.  As policies go, it wasn't too
profound, but it was simple and would be easy enough to follow.

School went smoothly after that.  No one else confronted me,
although the staring and whispering got worse, rather than
better.  Some were curious, some envious, some amazed.  I was
approached by far fewer boys than I expected.  Nearly none, in
fact.  Frankly, I thought eager suitors would mob me.  That did
not happen, much to my disappointment and relief.  I speculated
about this, but eventually tabled it until could talk to my
brothers, from whom I expected an honest answer or I would beat
them senseless.

The only problem the whole rest of the day was Gym.  I had Gym
the next to last class of the day and we always dressed-out in
shorts and t-shirts before participating in whatever sport or
healthy activity Coach Simpson had chosen or invented for the
day.

It wasn't until I opened my gym locker and pulled out my exercise
togs that I remembered that I hadn't brought a new t-shirt to
wear or a bra to change into.  The best I could do was to pull on
my old t-shirt without a bra.  The effect was laughable.  My old
shirt was now several sizes too small for me.  I could pull it
on, but it compressed my breasts and made them spread out around
my chest.  My boobs lifted the front up so that the hem fell just
below my nipples.

Fortunately, my classmates were mostly over the shock of my
sudden transformation by then and were more inclined to sympathy
than ridicule.  Two of them offered to try to help me stretch the
shirt to a better fit.

"It's not like you will ever be wearing it again," Marcie said. 
She and Jena took it to a sink and soaked it.  Then they pulled
it and twisted it and stretched it out in front as much as they
could without ripping it to rags.  When they finished, it was
still way too tight, but at least I could get it on.  The wet
t-shirt had one unfortunate side effect   it clung to me like
paint and you could see not only my nipples poking under it, but
my puffy areola as well.  The cold water did not help matters
either.

It was the best that could be done, though.  Coach came over to
me as soon as she saw the problem and I assured her that I would
be better dressed by the next day.

The rest of the period was a joke.  No one could do anything for
staring at my chest, and anything I tried to do brought the class
to a standstill.  It was a good thing that boys were not allowed
in the same area.

I was very relieved when Gym was over and we hit the showers. 
Unfortunately, being in a room full of naked girls was not the
equalizing factor I expected it to be.  No one wanted to shower
next to me because it would mean a side-by-side comparison of
figures.  It turned into another show, with me on one side of the
showers trying to get clean and everyone else on the other side,
dropping the shampoo and trying not to get caught watching. 

I refused to let it get to me.  I was going to be like this the
rest of my life and I had to get used to peoples' reactions. 
There was no place to hide in the open shower room and I wouldn't
have if I could, so I relaxed and let them watch.  I deliberately
faced the room instead of the wall and tried to ignore the
stares.  I soaped slowly and let the suds slide down my body.  I
let my hands linger on my body just short of a caress.  I avoided
anything overtly sexual or provocative, but I let everyone look
as much as they wanted.  In the process I got much cleaner than
normal.

Despite my resolve not to let this get sexual, I was amazed at
how turned-on I got with everyone watching.  My nipples were hard
as gems and I would have been soaked below the waist even without
the shower running over me.  I started out avoiding eye contact,
but my curiosity got the better of me and I began looking at the
other girls to see their reactions.

Some tried to hide it, but when she's naked, a girl can't hide
the reaction of her erectile tissue any more than a boy can. 
Basically, mine were not the only stiff nipples in that shower
room.

When I looked them in the eye, some girls looked away.  But some
just looked at me like they were in full rut.  The look on their
faces was so obvious that I thought I might be raped any second.
Bambi was right again about my effect on the female of the
species.  Girls were more attracted to me than boys.  At least
they were more willing to be seen to be attracted.  Since boys
seemed to be avoiding me, I couldn't gage their reaction yet.

Even though I dawdled through my shower; I was still the first
one out and the first one to be dressed.  I think I was also the
only one to make it to her next class before the bell.

It was during my last class that I discovered the true value of
the steel balls I carried in my pussy.  I had got so turned on by
being the star of the show in the shower that I was very wet. 
The lubrication made the balls slide around in there and bang
into each other with little clicks that I could faintly hear, but
mostly feel through my clit.

My juice also made it harder to hang onto the balls.  When I
walked, they kept trying to escape and I had to really clamp down
to keep them from falling out.  All that vibration and motion and
muscle action made me so horny that I sat right there in Miss
Albert's English class and had two orgasms, one after another. 
If we hadn't been having a video of a Shakespeare play that day,
I would have been so busted.  As it was, I could hide the look on
my face and stifle my moans in the darkened room without
attracting attention.  I think the girl in the desk behind me
could tell what was happening, because after class she made some
comment about Shakespeare having a strong effect on his
audiences.  I was so addled with afterglow that I could not think
of a single good comeback to that.

As expected, the worst moment of the day was after school when I
had to tell the Cheerleading Squad that I was quitting.  I hated
to lie to them, but the only thing I could think to tell them
that had any credibility was that all the jumping and stunts
would hurt my new boobs.  They were all so understanding and
sympathetic that I started to cry.  I hated myself for telling
them something so completely apart from the truth, and my crying
was only reinforcing my story, so I felt even worse about that.

I left as quickly as I could.  Fortunately, my wonderful friends
Jim, Bud and Neeka were waiting to console me and walk me home.
Their support and understanding made the unbearable bearable. 
Bud again carried my books and Neeka walked with her arm around
me.

After a couple of blocks, I felt better.  I even remembered to
ask Jim and Bud why it seemed that the other boys had been
avoiding me when I expected just the opposite.

They looked back and forth at each other before Jim answered.

"I think it's that you are so gorgeous that they are afraid to
try to talk to you.  I mean, you are so far out of everyone's
league that it just isn't funny, you know."

I was still puzzled.  I asked, "But why am I 'out of their
league'?  I'm the same girl I was last week.  Well, three weeks
ago.  Well...maybe I'm not."  I thought about all the changes
that I had been through in the past month and especially over the
last weekend.  Had I changed that much?  I had figured that it
was just my new breasts that made me different, but the more I
thought about it, the more I realized that I had changed in just
about every way it was possible to change.  

Physically?  That was the obvious part.  Mirrors had become an
essential part of my life.  Without them I simply could not see
the lower two-thirds of my body.  Yes, they are that big.  

Mentally?  Certainly.  And not just the powers that I was still
learning about.  I had changed in some fundamental way as a
result of the pain I had undergone and the trials I had been
through.  I had goals and responsibilities that I had never even
dreamed of having before.  I had done things that I had only seen
in the movies or read about in fantasy novels.  I had gone from
being a prisoner of my mother's psychosis to being a heroine.  It
was still a heady feeling to think of myself that way.  

Sexually?  Last week I was a virgin.  Since then I had made love
to members of both sexes.  The girls were great.  Bud was
fantastic.  If that wasn't a profound change I didn't know what
would be.  

Emotionally?  I felt like I had grown more emotionally than any
other way.  The things I thought were important to me before
seemed absurdly trivial now.  Cheerleading was the best example.
Before, being on the squad was the high point of my life.  Today,
I had walked away from it as not being relevant to who I was or
what I needed or wanted.  I had to choose between spending time
jumping and shouting in front of hundreds of fans to whom I was
merely side-line entertainment, or learning the skills that would
enable me to save lives and protect others from harm.  The
comparison struck me as funny and I laughed.  Neeka smiled and
hugged me around the shoulders as we walked.  She had probably
been following my thoughts and knew what made me laugh.  When I
looked at her, she nodded.  Finding Neeka, more than anything
else that had happened to me had had the greatest affect on who I
was becoming.  You have no idea what it's like to know that the
person next to you knows every thought that goes through your
head.  If they don't run away screaming in terror it validates
you as a person.  It tells you that you are one of the good-guys,
not some crazy wacko who should be in a padded room in a quiet
facility away from normal folks.  Neeka knew me. The real me.  As
long as she stayed with me I knew I was a good person.  That
knowledge made all the difference in the world. 

I was a new person all the way through.  I was so relaxed around
other people that I was making a new friend every day.  More than
one a day, if I counted Sheriff Bob.  I decided not to count him
as a friend yet, though.  He was a business associate.  To him, I
was a politically-convenient resource he could call on to pull
his ass out of hot water.  Already, if not for me he would
probably be bound and gagged in the trunk of his own car,
wondering if his SWAT team would shoot him or his wife while
trying to bag his kidnapper.  I did have that advantage in our
relationship; someone who called themselves his friend might
promise to come to his aide when he needed them.  I had already
come to his rescue in the dark of night without even knowing who
he was.  He said he always paid his debts; and that one would be
accruing interest for a while.

The main difference was that I wasn't the slightest bit scared of
people any more.  Knowing that you can't really be hurt has a way
of liberating you.  I tried to remember the last time I had been
intimidated by someone, but the only one I could recall was my
mother   my biological mother.  Even she had lost her hold on me.
 Once I understood her, our roles had reversed and I had become
more concerned with her well-being than she with mine.

Bubba and Leon had scared me at first, but it was more over what
they might do to my friends and family before I could stop them.
Once I knew I was strong enough to beat them, they held no real
terror for me.  If those two didn't scare me, then there wasn't
likely to be much walking around on two legs that could.  Knowing
that I could pound someone into sand if they pissed me off bad
enough had a great deal of influence on how I related to people.

I stopped stock-still on the sidewalk as something we had learned
about in History came back to me.  It was a section on feudalism
than included the term 'noblesse oblige'.  Roughly, it means that
if you are lucky enough  to be in a better position than someone
else, due to factors outside your control, then you have an
obligation to behave kindly and generously toward those not as
fortunate as you.  At the time, it seemed a silly, elitist idea,
right up there with 'droit du seigneur', which meant that the
lord of the manor got to screw the brides of his underlings
before their husbands did.  Was I operating out of a sense of
noblesse oblige?  It certainly looked like it on the face of
things.  It's unsettling when something you think of as purely
academic and irrelevant suddenly turns out to apply to you.  I
had always thought of History like Latin and Algebra, as subjects
that I was forced to study because they were part of the
curriculum.  I never expected any of it to become, you know,
'real'.  "All we learn from History is that we learn nothing from
History."  I was proving Hegel wrong.

I examined my revelation even closer.  Had I actually just drawn
a parallel between my life and something I learned in school? 
Was this me, standing on the sidewalk in my school clothes with
my bookbag, thinking about the philosophical basis for my view of
morality and how it applied to correct behavior in social
settings?  I was a socially-deprived high school girl whose main
concern up to this point in her life had been how to sneak out on
a date or how much make-up I could get away with wearing.

Suddenly, something really scary did occur to me; something that
explained why I was having all these strange thoughts.  I
understood for the first time that one of my mental powers was
increased intelligence.  I was actually getting smarter.

My classes today had seemed effortless, almost boring.  I thought
back and remembered that they had been getting easier for a week
or so.  I had attributed it to my enforced study regimen, but as
I mentally reviewed my homework sessions, I remembered each
chapter of each book, each exercise and each math problem I had
done.  I found I could recall each conversation I had had with
every person almost as if I had a video machine in my head.  My
memory for the last week or so was nearly photographic.  Although
that term was probably misleading.  The mechanism of memory was
more likely to be holographic in principle than...STOP THAT! 
"Jeez, Louise," I thought, "Was this what it meant to be smart? 
To drown in digression?  To endlessly overanalyze every thought?
And wasn't I doing it again?"  "GAAAAAAA!"

I hadn't been aware of saying that last bit aloud until Bud said,
"Are you all right, Sam?"

"No!  I mean, yes.  Oh hell.  Get me home before my brain melts
and runs out my ears.  I'm having an argument with myself and I'm
coming out on the losing end."  I remembered a moment ago making
a play on words with Georg Hegel's famous quote.  I was in deep
doodoo.  Any minute now I might be emailing Stephen Hawking to
debate his position on the nature of spacetime.  

"God!" I thought.  "How do you turn it OFF!"

I looked at Neeka with desperation in my eyes.  She said, "Your
brain sounds like an engine racing with the transmission in
neutral.  You need a problem to apply all that intelligence to. 
I mean 'to which you can apply all that intelligence'.  Shoot! 
I'm absorbing it from you.  Being in your head is gonna make me
smarter too.  'Intellect by association'   what an idea!  You
need to remember that your brain can be a lethal weapon, too. 
Don't point it at yourself.  

"OK, your choice is either work on a problem or stop thinking. 
You were asking why boys weren't all over you today.  Did you
think about that before?"

"Yes.  I decided to table the subject until I could conduct field
interviews and collect some hard data." 

"You mean talk to these bozos?  You think they are a
representative sample?" 

"No, but they are the only boys who could be motivated to tell me
the truth." 

"Very well.  Why not continue the research?" 

"An excellent suggestion, Doctor Morgan."  The research subjects
were looking pretty lost by now.  They knew we were talking about
them, but they weren't too sure if they would like being research
subjects. 

"As I was saying before I got distracted, why am I 'out of their
league'?  Jim?" 

"Well, the more beautiful a girl is, the more the guy feels that
he has to be worthy, you know?" Jim said.

Bud jumped in with his two cents.  "Yeah, and if you get
brushed-off by an OK looking girl, it's bad.  But if you get
turned down by a real fox, it's humiliating."

"So the better-looking a girl is, the less likely she is to get a
date?  What's wrong with this picture?"  The male ego was a truly
convoluted thing.

"Good-looking girls go out with good-looking guys.  It's like a
law or something," Bud said.

"Well that explains you two," I said.

"Hunh?"  Jim said, with an echo from Bud right behind.

"Well, I'm attracted to you.  Neeka is attracted to you.  The
Hendersons are too.  I think we're all above average in the looks
department and we all think you two are a couple of righteous
hunks."  That got nice smiles from both of them.  Flattery will
get you everywhere when dealing with the male of the species, I
noted.  In fact, stroking a boy's ego was probably even more
important than stroking his cock.  I remembered how all that
stuff I had said to Bud in bed this morning had really got him
going.  His ego kicked his cock into overdrive.  I had always
heard that boys thought with their genitals, maybe there was
something to that.  If I could solve the riddle of the male sex
drive, that would be a problem worth studying.  Finally,
something on which to focus my new intellect!

"So how should I go about getting a boy to talk to me?" I asked.
If I could get some practical advice, I could have a starting
point for a series of experiments.

"Just say 'hi'." Jim said.  "It doesn't take much.  If I guy
knows a girl is interested, that's all he needs."

I couldn't believe it was that simple.  If I picked a boy out and
went over and said 'hi', he would feel empowered and talk to me.
Otherwise, I could stand in a room full of boys and the only ones
who would talk to me were the ones with egos already so inflated
that they were the last ones I wanted to be around.  That type
only thought about themselves, only talked about themselves; they
were totally one-dimensional.  So the interesting boys were the
ones that I would have to approach.  This was a really screwed up
system.  At least it was weighted in the girl's favor.  I could
pick and choose.

I remembered Bambi telling me that men would throw themselves at
my feet.  My problem was that I wanted them standing on theirs,
not groveling at mine.  But if all I had to do was tap them with
my magic wand to get what I wanted, perhaps that would be enough.
 

Bambi also told me I was a goddess.  I did not want to be a
goddess.  I wanted to be normal.  I chuckled at that.  'Normal'
was completely out of the question.  I was going to have to work
to come to terms with the new me.  I knew that, but I was
learning that it was going to be a lot harder than I thought. 
Everything seemed strange.  It was like I had moved to a new
world where everything I thought I knew was wrong and I had to
learn how to act all over again.

Neeka left us at her house to tell her mother that she was home
safe and Bud and Jim and I walked on to ours.  Bambi was waiting
to talk to me, so the boys went off to get a start on their
homework.  I got the impression that them attending to homework
before doing anything else was a habit they picked up from me.

"You look troubled," she said.

"I made an unpleasant discovery on the way home."

She waited patiently.  I could talk about it or not.  I decided
it was something she needed to know.

"I found a new mental power.  One that in hindsight should have
been predictable."

"You're getting smarter." She said, nodding.

"How did you know that?"

"Listen to yourself.  It's obvious every time you open your
mouth.  Last night when you were talking to Bob Foster he had a
hard time relating to you at first.  What he has seeing and what
he was hearing didn't fit.  Once he accepted that you were some
kind of female super-spook he was able to cope."

"I just tried to talk his language."

"And did it so marvelously well that he thinks you must be the
product of some secret government program to breed super-agents.
That's why he dropped the questions about you.  That's why he
decided it would be healthier for him not to know.  You remember
when he talked about 'who you work for'?  He thinks you are here
to get some seasoning in field-work before your agency calls you
back in."

"Holy shit.  'Pardon my French'."

"He thinks I'm your control.  You should have heard him on the
phone today when I called to follow up on your requests.  It was
all, 'yes, ma'am' and 'yes, Mrs. Reynolds, I'll get right on
that'.  He even mentioned 'inter-agency cooperation'.  The man
has completely forgotten that I've known him and his wife for
years."

"I just wanted to impress him."

"Oh, you impressed him all right.  Look what came by courier
while you were at school."  She handed me a leather wallet.  When
I flipped it open there was a badge and an ID card inside.  The
badge said Special Deputy.  The ID was for Samantha Kramer and
the photo was the one from my school yearbook.

"He said this was the easiest way to guarantee you would get full
cooperation from other law enforcement agencies.  Flash this and
they will know you are a brother officer."

"Does this mean I can arrest people?"

"You bet.  Although I think your arrangement calls for someone in
the Sheriff's department to get the credit for any arrests you
make.  That way you won't have to appear in court when they go to
trial.

"He said he could send you some handcuffs and mace and even issue
you a firearm if you wanted, but he thought your methods were
likely to be as effective as any hardware he could provide."

Something about him mentioning my 'effective' methods raised a
flag.  I asked, "Did he say anything about the kidnapper from
last night?"

She looked at me hard before she answered, as if she was afraid
of my reaction to the news.  "He's in the hospital.  The doctors
are trying to reconstruct his knee.  It's 50-50 whether he will
keep the kidney."

I took a deep breath.  I remembered that I had not even been
tranced when I did that.  I had hit him too hard both times.  I
might have killed him.  It would have been easy.  I needed to
learn control before I got into any more fights.  Until I learned
to use my abilities effectively I would be a loose cannon.  No
wonder the Sheriff was so cooperative.  He had seen me nearly
kill someone with just my little patent-leather mary-janes.  

"You're right about the costume.  I'm going to need something
rugged to work in."  It felt funny thinking of it as my 'work'. 


"I called Mr. Morton first thing this morning." She said.  "I
decided not to beat around the bush.  I told him you needed a
super-hero costume; a real one.  He was quiet for a very long
time.  Then he asked if you wanted a cape with it.  I told him
that was for the fictional characters; that we were talking about
the real thing.  I told him that this was extremely confidential.
 He was offended.  He told me that all his work was strictly
confidential.  Then he asked if it needed to be bullet-proof.  I
told him it needed to be as impervious as possible and as light
as possible and as flexible as possible.  He promised to have
some designs for you to look at tomorrow when we go back to pick
up the rest of your wardrobe.  When I hung up he was quit
excited.  I'm still not sure he believed me, but he seemed
genuinely enthusiastic."

I brightened right up at that.  I had forgotten about all the new
clothes I would be getting.  The bulk of the clothes we had
picked out had either had to be altered or assembled from
scratch.

"Do you think Morton will be able to come up with something
useful?  Doesn't he just do sexy clothes for large-breasted
types, like us?"

"Don't underestimate Mr. Morton," she said.  "He's been in
business for quite some time and he has a few tricks up his
sleeve.  For instance, I know he does a lot of work for some
movie studios down in Miami.  One-off costumes are a staple item
for him.  Many of them are quite, ah, outlandish."

"I didn't know there were movie studios in Miami."

"They're mostly direct-to-DVD and mail-order companies."

"You mean pornography?"  I was shocked and appalled.  Well,
titillated and intrigued, anyway.

"I do mean pornography.  That's what Morton means when he says
'confidential'.  He doesn't dare let on to his society customers
than he also sells clothes to porn stars and exotic dancers.  He
can do both because his shop is state-of-the-art
computer-operated hardware.  He makes most everything to order,
except for the few racks he has up front.  No stock means no
warehouse, no insurance, no inventory tax, no guessing fashion
trends.  Do you remember how he measured you?"

"The computer with the cameras?  I thought that was kind of
high-tech for a dressmaker."

"It's the key to his business.  He showed me his back room once
when I told him how surprised I was that he was able to produce
custom orders so quickly.  He's rather proud of it."

"So that's what he meant when he said he could get a better fit
on some of the clothes that I thought fit perfectly already."

"The things he makes for you will all fit like a glove.  That's
why I think he's the best choice to do your costume.  He can do
it fast, we know it will fit, and his specialty is unusual or
unique clothes for women with figures like ours."

"Great!   I can't wait to see what he comes up with."

"After that I called around to see about martial arts training. 
You would not believe the number of karate, aikido, judo, kung
fu, bushido, kendo and ninjutsu academies there are just in the
city limits.  After talking with a few of them I had almost
decided that you would be better off taking several different
classes to see what would work best for you.

The last man I spoke with seemed to have the best solution.  His
name is Xaiolong Li and he teaches a style of Kung Fu he called
Jeet Kune Do."  She tried to pronounce each syllable as she had
heard it.  It sounded funny hearing her trying to imitate a
Chinese accent.

"I don't know much about Kung Fu, but it seems to me I've heard
of that style.  I think it was in a movie   no, I saw it in a TV
program on that guy who was in all those movies, Bruce
somebody."

"Bruce Lee.  Yes, you may have seen a biography of him.  I
remember seeing a few of his movies when I was younger.  If I
remember right, he was responsible for the slow-motion
photography film technique you see so much of in movies now."

"Was he a director, too?"

"No, he was just so fast that that was the only way they could
get him on film."

"They had to slow the film down so they could see him move? 
Jeez, how good was this guy?"

"Good enough so that 30 years later he is still revered as one of
the great masters of the art, apparently.  Anyway, Mr. Li teaches
this Jeet Kune Do style, which he says combines the best elements
of all the other styles into a more practical form.  He said that
the emphasis was not so much on form as effect.  I gather you
don't want to spend weeks trying to learn to stand like a crane
or move like a snake?"

"You gather correctly.  I just want to be able to have enough
control so I don't hurt someone any more than necessary."

"Then your first class is Wednesday afternoon right after school.
 He is about three blocks out of your way coming home, so you
won't need me to drive you over there every day.  It's the old
mattress factory on River Street.  Do you know where that is?"

I nodded.  Bambi had certainly been busy making all these
arrangements.

"I also got in touch with the fitness equipment company.  Would
you believe they are going out of business already?  Anyway, I
was able to get a good deal on some mats and some other things
that they had in stock that they were looking to liquidate below
cost."

"What other things?"

"Let me surprise you.  The mats are down there now.  The rest
will be delivered or installed by the contractor when he finishes
redoing the room.  I wasn't able to give the contractor much to
go on.  If you have any ideas now is the time to tell me about
them."

"I'm sorry.  I can't help you.  I have no idea what it should
look like."

"Color?  Light? Dark?  Wall treatment?  Pictures of Elvis on
velvet?"

"Please!"  I laughed.  "No Elvis.  Dark, maybe, or dark gray.  I
know!  In History they showed us a film about World War II ships
that were painted in all kinds of bold geometric patterns to
disguise the outline of the ships.  It seemed crazy to me.  I
mean you'd think they would stand out better with those big
designs on them, but I liked the graphics, it made them look like
optical illusions.  Can we do something like that?"

"I think you're talking about dazzle camouflage.  I remember Ben
watching a program about that on TV.  I didn't understand it
either, but I know what you mean.  All the graphics made it hard
to judge the shape of what you were looking at.  You want to do a
wall treatment like that?"

"Yeah.  I think it would be neat.  The graphics would break up
the shape of the room and it wouldn't look like such a big
rectangle."

"Interesting.  OK, I'll let them know.  They should be through by
the end of the week.  We should have everything installed by
Friday.  Oh, and Bob Foster is sending over a tech with your
radio gear on Wednesday.  I'll get a desk in there and have a
computer with an Internet connection installed too.  You'll want
to be able to do research in private."

"This is wonderful.  Thank you for doing all this."



We went down the back stairs to the workshop.  When I snapped on
the lights, I saw that Bambi had covered the motorcycle with a
large blue tarp.

"I thought it would be best if the number of people who saw that
here was kept to a minimum," she said.

"Good idea.  I'll ask Neeka to move it around and put it in the
back of the garage while the work is going on in here.  I don't
dare do it myself.  I just about peed my pants when I started it
up last time.  I'm not about to try to drive it."  I almost
clapped a hand over my mouth when I remembered that I had had to
hunt for the hidden key to do that.  Bambi looked at me, but said
nothing about me poking my nose into things.

There was a pile of gray mats in the corner near the outside
door.  I went to pull one off the top.

"Those are heavy.  Let me help you," Bambi said without thinking.
 She reached for the other end of the mat and then pulled her
hand back and giggled.  "Sorry.  Let me get out of the way."

I took hold of the loop handle on the side of the mat and braced
my legs.  I pulled and twisted and the mat sailed across the room
and landed on the floor with a loud thump.   I put another one
next to it.  The 5' by 10' mats had Velcro on the edges so they
could be connected and would not slide apart.  I laid down four
of them side by side across the middle of the room so they formed
a 10 by 20 foot strip from wall to wall.  Now I had a good-sized
area to work out in that would not shift around underfoot as I
tumbled on it.

I did a few cartwheels and somersaults to break in the exercise
area.  It felt good to be able to stretch and the workout put me
in a good mood.  After I was warmed up, I convinced Bambi to get
down on the mat with me for a different kind of workout that put
both of us in a better mood.

I was still humming a happy tune when I went to do my homework at
the desk in the family room.  It was mostly 'read chapter so and
so' and I was able to get it done in a couple of hours.  After
that I decided to give Neeka a call to let her know about the
Kung Fu lesson on Wednesday.  She might need some time to get
someone to cover for her at the coffee shop.

I had just put my hand on the phone when I remembered that I was
about to make the same mistake that Bambi had earlier when she
started to help me with the heavy mats.  I was forgetting to use
my abilities.  I sat back in the desk chair and put my hands palm
down on the top of the desk.  I closed my eyes and thought,
"Neeka?"

Instantly, her voice rang in my head, "Right here.  What's up?"

"Where are you?" I thought/said.

"I'm still at work.  Just cleaning up and getting ready to leave.
 Why?"  This was interesting.  The coffee shop was over behind
the mall.  That was over five miles away and I could hear her as
clearly as if she were in the room with me.

"Did you feel anything from me earlier?  About two hours ago?"

"No, not a thing.  Did you do something interesting?"

"Ohhhhhhh, yessss."  I sent her a quick flash of Bambi and me
rolling around on the new mats, giggling like idiots with our
legs scissored around each other, tickling and trading
pussy-kisses.

"Aaaaaagghh!  Don't do that.  Damn!  You made me almost fall into
the freezer.  Don't show me any more right now.  I want to be
somewhere I can enjoy it, first."

"If you didn't pick it up when it was happening, then you must be
outside our contact range.  I had to call before I could hear
you."

"Yah.  You fade out after a few blocks.  I can hear you all day
at school, but when we get more than a mile apart it gets
fuzzy."

I could tell I was distracting her from her work, so I got to the
point.  "Stop by and see me when you get home.  I need to talk to
you about the class Bambi has signed us up for and I have a chore
I need help with, OK?"

"Sure."

"Great!  Later, then."

"Later."

When she hung up, signed off, went away, whatever   I still
hadn't figured out what to call it.  How do you talk about
something that isn't really talking?  After she was gone, I
opened my eyes.  It had been so easy that all the closing my eyes
and sitting still probably wasn't needed.  I remembered sitting
on the roof and picking up on strong emotions in the
neighborhood.  It probably wasn't necessary to be on the roof to
do that, either.

I thought about listening-out for trouble, but I really didn't
feel like running off after something at the moment.  I was still
relaxed and buzzed and happy and I really wanted to keep it that
way for a little bit.  I sat and tried to zone-out, just relax
and chill.  That lasted about a minute.  I could not leave it
alone.  I had to check.  I had to listen.

I closed my eyes and tried to make myself receptive.  I tried to
recall the mental state I had achieved when I was on the roof.  I
was patient, but all I could pick up was the low background
murmur of the neutral emotions of people going about their normal
day.  I felt better about having checked, though.  Now I could
relax with a clear conscience.



I was on the couch with a magazine when Neeka came in.  She had a
shiny object in her hand.

"Whacha got there?" I asked, as she dropped onto the couch next
to me.

She held out a new key.  "Your mom gave me a key to the house,"
she said.   "She said since you and I were going to be partners,
that I needed one so I could come and go as I pleased.  Then she
kissed me and said, 'Take care of her'."

"Oh.  Did she say anything about the Kung Fu lessons?"

"No.  When and where?"

I told her about the lessons and where they were being taught. 
She suggested that she drive us over there and then drive us home
after so we would have time to practice afterwards.

"That's good," I said.  "We'll need to practice if we're going to
be any good at this.  Oh, I almost forgot   I need you to help me
move the motorcycle.  There will be some work going on in the
workshop this week and I'd like to get it out of the way."

"And out of sight," Neeka said.  "If you want to have a private
life, you don't want everyone to know whose bike that is.  Where
can we hide it?"

"The back of the garage.  We can go out here around through the
yard."

We went out through the glass doors into the yard.  Going around
the retaining wall and up the hill took us to the outside door of
the workshop and Neeka opened it with her new key.  I showed her
the mats I had laid out on the floor and we practiced sparring
and tumbling for a few minutes.  Then I got the key to the
motorcycle out of the cabinet and gave it to her.

"Do you want to go for a ride?" she asked.

"More than anything," I said, trying to psych myself into it. 
"But I think we need to wait until dark before we go cruising and
I'd rather not do that until we have the tag.  Sheriff Foster
said he would register it to the department.  That way if anyone
checks the tag, they will leave us alone."

"OK, but we can at least ride it around to the garage.  It's too
big to just push that far."

I thought I could probably carry the thing that far if I had to,
but Neeka was obviously excited about getting on the bike.

"All right," I said.  "But just to the garage.  And take it easy,
OK?"

We pushed the big machine out the door onto the concrete apron. 
The door swung shut behind us and I heard it latch.  The bike
looked even better in the sunlight than it had inside.  All the
gleaming chrome and shiny black paint on a machine with such a
huge engine and massive exhaust pipes was really an impressive
sight.  Neeka swung onto the seat and put the key in the hole.  I
climbed on behind her and put my hands on her waist.

When she turned the key and the big machine started up, I had the
same feeling of terror and excitement shoot through me as before.
 Out here in the open, the sound did not seem as loud.  It was
more a deep thrum noise than a roar.  Still, the vibrations
seemed to be most intense in the sensitive parts of my body.  It
felt like my nipples were resonating with the sound.

Neeka turned her head around and said in a loud voice, "Hold on
tight."

I did not have time to answer before she put the bike in gear,
gunned the engine and swung it around the corner and down the
tree-lined driveway.  On the short straightaway, she accelerated
sharply, almost losing me off the back of the seat.  We swung out
into the cul-de-sac and around in front of the house and up the
main drive in a flash.  Before I had time to take a breath, she
had it coasting by Bambi's car and into the garage.

When she turned off the motor, I hopped off immediately.  She sat
on the bike and grinned at me.

"Holy shit!" I said, with a distinct quaver in my voice.  I
wanted to say something else, but nothing else came to mind.

"First time on a big bike?" Neeka asked.

"First time on any bike," I admitted.  "Are they all
that...that...quick?"

"No way. This one has more power and far more torque than
anything I've ridden before.  I can't wait to get this out on the
road.  I bet it goes like a bat out of hell!  And it's so quiet.
Those pipes can't be stock."

It seemed that Neeka and the bike were made for each other.  I
wanted to drive the bike, too; but not anytime real soon   say
sometime next century.  Maybe with some more time as a passenger
I would get more comfortable on it.  Maybe a pig would fly over
the house later, too.

"It sounds plenty loud to me." I said.

"Oh, you have no idea!  A bike with a motor this size usually
makes enough ear-ripping noise that everyone for blocks around
can hear it.  This is almost silent compared to them.  Those big
exhaust pipes are really glass-pack mufflers all the way.  This
whole thing is custom from the ground up.  See the air-shocks on
the swing-arm?  They give it a nice soft ride.  The windscreen
and fairings keep you from getting cold from the wind blowing on
you all the time.  These also make it more aerodynamic.  See the
way it curves around the front?  It keeps the bugs off you too."

I had no idea what she was talking about, but I smiled and nodded
as she explained the motorcycle to me.  She was enjoying this so
much I didn't have the heart to tell her I was still scared to
death of the thing.  She had probably already picked up on that
and explaining everything to me was just her trying to make me
more comfortable with it.

"The more powerful a bike is, the less likely it is to be
comfortable to ride.  Especially with custom bikes like this,
comfort is rarely a major consideration.  Most of the time they
try to make them sound as loud and impressive as possible by
tuning the exhaust to resonate with the sound of the motor. 
Touring bikes are designed for comfort, but they are heavy,
under-powered and less than nimble.

This bike is the best of both worlds.  It has all the power you
could ask for, amazing torque, but it also is very comfortable. 
And it's really gorgeous.  I love it!"

"Good!  Do you have something to wear while riding?  Aren't you
supposed to have a special leather suit or something?"

"Leathers are a good idea, but around here they would be
incredibly hot.  Helmets are also a good idea, but this state
stopped requiring them a few years ago.  No, I have a black
pantsuit that I plan to wear.  I have a cap with a visor and a
pair of wraparound driving glasses that will go with it.  It will
look just like a chauffeur's uniform.  Do you think Mr. Morton
will be able to come up with something for you to wear?"

"Bambi seems to think so.  You know he does costumes for porn
stars?"

"That's funny.  I've never met the man, but you picture him as
this old-fashioned dressmaker with bifocal glasses and a
tape-measure around his neck.  He seems like the last person to
be involved with that sort of thing.   Oh my God!  You're
thinking about becoming a porn star!"

"Hey!  It's just a fantasy.  All right?  Don't tell me you never
thought about it."

"You mean lying around all day, being fucked over and over by
handsome guys with big johnsons?  Who hasn't?"

"Someone who doesn't get off on being watched, I guess.  Anyway,
it will have to stay a fantasy for me for a while.  Since it
looks like I have another job."

"Well, you would certainly be qualified for video.  You're
beautiful; you have great boobs; and you love to fuck."

"Oh, I do.  I do!" I said, speaking from my very limited
experience.  "There's nothing like it.  Sex is the greatest thing
in the world.  I can't believe I waited so long to start.  If I
had known how great it was, I would have tried harder to get
around Warden Mom.  I guess I must have been really sexually
repressed.  It must have affected my personality in ways I can't
even imagine.  I just feel so much more relaxed and happy after a
good climax, you know?"

"Yeah, me too.  I wonder if all the people who get drunk and do
drugs and stuff aren't just doing it as a substitute for sex." 
That was one of the most insightful things I had ever heard her
say.  I thought about it before I answered.

"Could be.  You might be onto something there.  Too bad a lot of
people think sex is worse than drugs.  I bet that Yvette would
have been more pissed at me if she had caught me with a boy than
if she had caught me with a marijuana cigarette.  But she's not a
good example.  I keep thinking about how, from her point of view,
she hadn't had real sex for years.  Now that is the worst case of
sexual repression you are ever going to hear about."

"That's not your fault.  It was her choice."

"Yes, but she made it because of me.  I still feel responsible."

"This is part of why you're going into this superheroine thing,
isn't it?"

"I guess it is.  I couldn't do anything to help Yvette except to
get away from her.  I hate that.  I want to do something.  It's
just so frustrating.  I must be transferring my desire to do
something for Yvette into doing something for everyone else."  

That seemed right.  Thinking that I was doing this because I was
getting something out of it made me feel better than telling
myself that I was doing it for 'the good of humanity' or some
other bullshit.  Altruism makes me queasy.

"I think Ayn Rand said that," Neeka laughed, obviously about my
last thought.  I didn't know who she was talking about, but I
knew she was trying to be supportive about my coming to
understand my motives.  She put her arm around me and gave me a
hug.  She seemed just like a big sister when she did that.

"I've got to get home," she said.  "Mom will be wondering where I
am."

"OK, see you tomorrow.  Will you walk with us again?"

"I'd love to, but I'm too used to having my car, you know?  I
could give you guys a ride, if you like."

"Maybe when it rains I'll take you up on that.  It's just such
nice weather right now that I really enjoy walking."

"It also gives you some time with Bud and Jim."

"That too.  We got off to a bad start, but they're really sweet
boys.  The more I'm around them the closer I feel to them. 
Listen, come over when you get off tomorrow.  I'll want to show
you my new wardrobe."

"It's a date," she said.  She walked down the drive and up the
street and I went inside to see what was for supper.

As it happened, I was just in time to help set the table.  As I
got out the silverware, Bambi handed me a plastic bag with the
two steel balls in it.  I had forgotten them and left them in the
workshop.

"I ran them through the dishwasher," she told me.  "It sounds
strange, but that's the best way to clean toys like that."

I laughed.  "If it gets plates clean enough to eat off of, I
guess it will get things clean enough to put inside you," I said.
 I looked around for somewhere to put the balls.  It seemed
inappropriate to leave them sitting beside my plate while I ate,
so I carried them with me when I went downstairs to fetch Bud and
Jim.

Of course, they had to ask what was in the bag.  I thought about
telling them it was none of their business, but I could not think
of a good reason to keep it a secret.

"They're exercise balls," I said.  "They help me keep my muscles
toned."

"How do you use them?" Bud asked.

"Well, I roll them around and squeeze them.  I carry them around
all day.  They have weights inside that move around and remind me
to use them."

"Oh, yeah," Jim said, "I've got a little sandbag that I do that
with.  It builds up my grip.  But why two?  Do you carry one in
each hand?"

I almost laughed out loud at that.  I hadn't explained it at all
well.

"No," I said, wondering how to tell them.  "I don't carry them in
my hands.  It's not that grip that I'm building up."  As I
expected, that only made them more curious.  I could see where
this was going already.

"Are your hands, clean?" I asked.

"Yeah, we just washed up for supper," Bud said. "Why?"

"Here," I said, opening the bag and giving each of them a ball.

"So what do we do with them?" Jim asked.

My devilish grin must have been a giveaway.  Bud started smiling,
but kept his mouth shut.  He must have been wondering if Jim
would catch on, too.  He didn't.  Until I pulled my skirt up over
my hips and scooted my butt onto the arm of the sofa.  Then I
could see the light go on behind his eyes.

"Put them in me," I said, pulling my legs up and leaning against
the back of the couch.

Bud went first.  I held my pussy open for him and he slid one
ball inside and pushed it in with his finger.  Jim wanted to look
a little before he put his in.  I pushed the ball already inside
me up to my opening and let it roll back again.  The boys watched
with fascinated expressions as the shiny ball appeared and
disappeared.  I felt like a magician with an audience.

Jim put his ball into me and I moved it back in my vagina and
stood up.

"Don't they fall out?" Jim asked.

"Well," I said, "I can feel them move and I know where they are
all the time.  Keeping them in me is part of the exercise."

"But why?"  Jim seemed intrigued with the whole idea of me
exercising my pussy.  Bud just grinned.  He had had a
demonstration of why I wanted strong muscles down there just that
morning when he had to force me off his cock.

"So I can be nice and tight for you," I said with a teasing tone.
 I put my hand over his crotch and squeezed his bulge through his
pants.  "You want me to stay tight, don't you?  Don't you like a
tight little pussy, Jim?"

Now both of them were grinning from ear to ear.  Jim blushed a
deep red and could not think of an answer for that.  I didn't
need one.  The hardening cock under my hand was answer enough.

As we walked up the stairs, I heard the balls clink together.  I
thought it was too faint to be heard by anyone else, but Jim
chuckled.

When I turned to look at him to see what was funny, he said, "I
heard that when we were walking to school this morning.  I didn't
know what it was."

Now it was my turn to blush.  I had been hearing that faint clink
all day as I moved around and walked from class to class.  I had
assumed that I was the only one who could hear it.  Now that I
knew that it was audible from at least four feet away, I wondered
how many of my classmates had heard it.  Worse, I wondered how
many knew it was coming from me.  Worst of all, I wondered how
many knew what it was making the noise!  Or maybe not.  Anyone
who knew what it was had probably had experience with the balls
themselves.  I decided to keep an eye out for anyone trying to
hide a smile when they heard me clinking along.

Once we had sat down to supper, I tried to maneuver the balls to
make them clink intentionally.  It was hard, but eventually I
found that by pulling one as far into my vagina as it would go,
and then pulling the other one in quickly, I could produce a
fairly loud clink.  The third time I did it Bud, Jim and Bambi
all burst out laughing.  Bambi looked at Bud and Jim and they
looked back, surprised to see that they all knew what was
happening.  This made them laugh even harder.  I turned very red
and resolved to stop playing with the balls during meals.





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