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From: "Samantha" <samanthak@fastmail.fm>
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Subject: {ASSM} Sam - Part 7  (FF, MF, tort, exhib, size, viol)
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Date: Sat, 23 Sep 2006 17:10:01 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Sam - Part7.doc" begin>

Sam - Part 7

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

School the next day was an improvement.  Maybe it was because I
had something good to look forward to after school, instead of
something unpleasant.  Maybe because I was getting used to the
stares and the behind-the-hand comments.  I kept to my strategy
of smiling back whenever I got a nasty or envious look, and in
many cases, the envy died on the vine when the person saw that I
was open and approachable.

When lunchtime came, I found myself in line with Jolene Maddox,
who introduced me to Janice Dempsey, one of the other girls who
had witnessed Monday's restroom encounter.  Janice was not one of
Sandra's buddies, as Jolene had been.  She had been one of the
two who had come out of curiosity or admiration.  Whichever it
was, Janice was having a hard time keeping her eyes above my
neck.  I had again worn a conservative outfit   a skirt that came
to my knees and an opaque white blouse with a bra underneath, but
covering up only seemed to make me more interesting to some
people.  If I were naked except for a band-aid; I'm sure there
would be some people who would want to peek under the band-aid.

Janice and Jolene obviously wanted to talk, but from the way they
kept glancing at the people around us in the cafeteria line, the
subject was not one they were willing to have anyone overhear. 
Once we were through the serving line, I led the way to a corner
table away from the line and the doors.  At the moment, it was
empty and we could have a private conversation.  I picked a chair
that put my back to the room.  Experience had shown that this way
our voices would be masked by the hundreds of other people in the
dining hall and with our backs to them, no one could read our
expressions or our lips.  We had all heard the story about the
hearing-impaired girl at a school in the next county who had
learned lip-reading to avoid having to attend a special school. 
She had spread quite a lot of scandal by spying on and then
repeating conversations that were supposed to be private.  No
doubt she did it to make herself popular among those with whom
she shared the secrets.  In the long term, however, she only
managed to make herself an outcast.  I was half-sure that the
story was only an urban legend, but everyone I knew had taken the
moral to heart   a secret is only a secret so long as you protect
it.

My new friends sat on either side of me and Jolene slid close
enough that her knee was against mine.  I wondered what they
wanted to tell me that had to be private.  Like every other
teenage girl on the planet, I was a sucker for a confidence.

While we ate our lunches, Jolene told me that Janice had seen us
together afterwards and thought that she could get Jolene to
introduce her to me.  I wondered briefly why she had felt it
necessary to go through an intermediary, but I decided to file it
away as just another example of how people were behaving
strangely around me all the time.  It was probably the same thing
that Jim and Bud had been telling me about why boys seemed to be
avoiding me   she thought I was 'out of her league'.

"Janice told me about her cousin's experience with a growth-spurt
like yours." Jolene said in her lilting Southern accent.  "I
thought you might like to hear the story from her."

I caught Janice tearing her eyes away from my chest when I turned
my head to hear her story.  She blushed and managed to look me in
the eyes while she told me about her cousin.

"Shirlene was 16 when she started growing," she said.  "She's my
father's half-brother's daughter by his second wife.  Her mother,
my Aunt Estelle, has big tits and says that all the women in her
family have them too.  Still, it was a real shock to Shirlene
when she went from a C to a DD practically overnight.  Over
summer vacation they kept growing until finally she stopped at an
E-cup.  Shirlene was a small girl like you, Sam.  She thought her
big boobs made her look funny and she tried to hide them as best
she could.  She wore clothes that were too big for her and she
never, ever went swimming because a swimsuit could not hide
anything.  She practically became a hermit, locked up in her
room.

Well, my Aunt Estelle and Uncle Randy tried to talk her out of
it, but they just made things worse.  She thought they were
worried because she looked strange, not because she was acting
strange, so she just got worse.  

This went on for two years, until she went off to college at the
University of Miami.   Her Freshman roommate tried to get her to
come out of her shell, and managed to get her to go to a
fraternity party.  Well, Shirlene had never drunk a drop in her
life.  The frat boys took one look at her and decided to try to
get her blotto.  Before you could bat an eye, her clothes were
off and she was dancing for them.  It was a short trip from there
to the upstairs bedroom, where those boys took turns with her all
night and most of the next day.  

By the time Shirlene got back to her own dorm room, she was a
changed person.  She dropped out of school inside of a week and
got herself a job as an exotic dancer in a nightclub.  The month
after that we hear that she's starring in adult films under the
name of Summer Winters.  Right after that she starts sending home
$5000 a month to Aunt Estelle and Uncle Randy, along with letters
telling them how happy she is now that she has found her true
calling in life.

Anyway, when she was home this past Christmas, she told me to
keep an eye out for any girl at school who might be having a
similar problem adjusting to having big boobs."

"Gee, Janice," I said.  "That's certainly an interesting story
about your cousin Shirlene.  But I'm not sure how that applies to
me."  I was very curious about any words of wisdom that 'Summer
Winters' might have for me.

"Well, you see, she told me that the studio she works for is
always looking for new talent and that if you want to give her a
call, she will see that you get hooked-up with the right folks."

"Un hunh," I said, stunned.  O. Henry couldn't have written a
better ending to Shirlene's story than that.  "I appreciate the
thought, Janice, I really do.  But I've got a career already
planned."  I had to shut up at that point.  I could hardly tell
them about my planned career.

Janice took my silence for permission to press the issue.  She
said, "Lord, girl! With those hooters you could make a thousand
dollars a day!  Anyway, it's never a bad idea to have something
you can fall back on if your first choice doesn't work out."

"Thank you, Janice.  What a nice compliment!  Do you really think
I belong in por...ah, adult films?"

"Are you kidding?" Janice said, putting her hand on my knee in a
friendly way.  "Jolene and I were just talking about how you are
the one girl in this school that everyone wants to have sex
with."

"Really?" I said, putting my hand over Janice's and giving it a
friendly squeeze to let her know that I did not object to her
familiarity.

"Sure!  Even the girls.  Why, when you showed up Sandra
yesterday, I bet everyone in the room got wet just watching."  As
she said this, her hand slid off my knee and onto my thigh.  "It
was the sexiest thing, the way you got Sandra to touch you."

"She seemed to be enjoying it," I said.  "I know I was enjoying
it."  I clenched my knees together to emphasize how much I had
enjoyed it.  When I unclenched them I had pulled Janice's hand
under my skirt and well up on my thigh.  I took my own hand away
to see how far she would go on her own.  "Did it get you wet,
too?" I asked Janice.

"Yes," she said, lowering her voice even further and squeezing my
thigh.  "It got me very wet.  I was shocked at how hot I got,
just from watching.  I followed the rest in because I was
curious, but when I saw Sandra touch your breasts   I mean,
Sandra, of all people   well, I just got so turned on I couldn't
stand it."  She stroked her hand higher under my skirt.  Her
fingers were almost touching my pussy and I was getting very hot
from her touch and from hearing how aroused I had made her
yesterday.  My breathing was getting ragged and my pulse was
pounding in my ears.

When I spread my legs further apart to encourage Janice to
explore further, my knee pressed against Jolene's.  I turned to
look at her and saw her glance down in my lap at the moving bulge
that was Janice's hand under my skirt.  Jolene looked in my eyes
and saw how hot I was getting.  The next thing I knew, Jolene had
a hand under my skirt as well and two hands were stroking my
thighs.  It was a good thing we were all facing a blank wall, or
my ecstatic expression would have been a giveaway.

When Jolene started touching me too, I lost my train of thought.
I moaned and leaned back in my chair, my legs twitching from the
stimulation I was getting.  I couldn't believe we were doing this
in such a public place, but I wasn't going to stop them now.  My
half-eaten lunch lay on the tray in front of me, completely
forgotten as I slowly slid into a fog of arousal.

In a low voice just loud enough to carry to Janice, Jolene said,
"You got me wet, too.  I never got turned on by a girl before,
but you are something special.  Every time I'm near you, my
panties get wet and I want to touch you.  Like I'm touching you
now, but I want to touch your breasts, too."

Janice whispered in my other ear, "I never got turned on by a
girl either.  I've had boyfriends, but you are the first girl
I've ever been attracted to.  God, I want to get you somewhere I
can do whatever I want to you.  I want to kiss you.  I want to
touch your breasts real bad."

I felt my knees being lifted and spread wider apart as Janice and
Jolene pulled my legs into their laps so my hips would be tilted
and my pussy more open to them.  I closed my eyes and grabbed the
seat of my chair to keep from falling over.

A hand finally touched my pussy and I felt such a surge of heat
that I thought I would cum right then.  My outer lips were wide
open because of the position of my legs and my inner lips were
engorged and pouting.  I could feel the warmth of a hand cupping
my pussy, just before the fingers touched my moist inner flesh. 
I whimpered with lust and the need to climax.

I felt fingers exploring my lips and my clit and I wanted to cry
out with pleasure, but a small part of me tried to maintain
composure.  I wanted to give myself over totally to the sensation
of having my pussy explored by my new friends, but the dining
hall was hardly the place to give in to the full-blown orgasm I
craved.

When I felt two fingers slip into me and begin to slide in and
out of my pussy, I knew both girls were cooperating in
finger-fucking my pussy and I was pushed over the edge into an
orgasm.  My breathing stopped abruptly as my pussy muscles
clamped shut on their fingers, trapping them inside me.  I let
out a small squeak and quickly put a knuckle between my teeth to
stifle any further noise.

I tried to suppress the involuntary jerks and twitches that came
over me when I came, but I wasn't completely successful.  At
least I managed not to scream with delight as the fireworks shot
through me.

I was still cumming pretty good when Jolene tapped me on the
shoulder and asked in a hissing tone, "Excuse me, but can we have
our hands back.  It feels like you are breaking my fingers!"

I took a deep breath and opened my eyes.  Janice and Jolene were
not in obvious distress, but my legs had closed on their hands
when I came and now their fingers were trapped in my pussy.  I
took a couple more breaths and tried to relax.  When I had enough
control to talk again, I said, "Mmmm.  I think I like those hands
just where they are."  I gave them a squeeze and put my own hands
in each of their laps.  A quick feel revealed that they both had
wet spots in the crotch of their panties.

I reluctantly opened my legs and let them take their hands away
from my throbbing pussy.  A shudder went through me as I felt
their fingers withdraw.  I let out a sharp gasp as Jolene flicked
my hard clit before taking her hand out.  

As fogged as I was, my mind raced to think of some place we could
go for the last twenty minutes of the lunch period.  "Come with
me." I said, taking my tray and returning it to the kitchen.  I
led the way out of the dining hall and down the stairs to the old
library in the basement.  

Since a damp basement turned out to be a poor place for a
library, the books had been moved to the new library building
some years before and the space was now for storing seldom-used
stuff, like seasonal decorations and the platforms that turned
the dining hall into a theater or banquet hall.  The restrooms
were still unlocked, but almost never used unless there was an
overflowing toilet that closed one on the main floor of the
building.  It was a perfect place for a tryst.

I hopped up and sat on the corner of the formica counter that
held the row of sinks.  This gave me an extra foot of height and
put my chest just at the perfect height.  "Get those panties
off!" I commanded as I unbuttoned my blouse and took it off. 
Janice and Jolene pulled off their soaked undies without
hesitation and converged on my exposed boobs.  They stood on
either side of me and each attacked a breast.  You'd think they
had been bottle-fed as babies the way they latched onto my boobs
and licked and kissed so eagerly.

I was in heaven.  Having two girls making love to me was a new
thing and one I could easily get used to.  As heady as the
experience was, I kept reminding myself that it wasn't my turn
now and I shouldn't get carried away and hog all the action. 
Still, they seemed to be completely absorbed with my breasts and
if I was enjoying the attention as much as they were obviously
enjoying paying it, then I should just chill and go with the
flow.

I let the boob adoration go on as long as I dared.  I didn't want
either of my friends to have to go back to class frustrated and
the clock was ticking on our little party.  I reached out and
hooked a finger in the waistband of each of their skirts and
pulled them close enough for me to be able to get a hand between
each girl's legs.  When I touched them, it was like lighting a
fuse.  Both got more excited and more energetic in their
caresses.  After I had petted their pussies for a few minutes,
they were practically mauling me.  Both were moaning blissfully
with my fingers twisting in their holes.

I tried to get my fingers deep enough to reach their g-spots, the
same as Bud had done to me.  I was able to do it with no trouble
to Janice.  I massaged her spot with my middle finger and rubbed
her clit with my thumb.  When I tried to do the same to Jolene I
made a discovery that surprised me   Jolene was still a virgin. 
Having been a member of that club not too long ago myself, I was
touched that she had chosen to take up with me.  Still, a woman
had taken my virginity and if Jolene wanted to give me hers, I
would be as considerate and as gentle as Bambi had been, which
was certainly more than any boy could be expected to do.

Since I could not reach far inside her, I focused on Jolene's
clit, rubbing all around it until I had it standing tall and then
using my wet fingers to gently stroke it until she was about to
cum.  When I thought she was close, I had Jolene switch places
with me on the counter.  While Janice watched, I pulled Jolene's
legs apart and put her knees over my shoulders so her pelvis was
tilted up toward my mouth.  I bent over and put my chin on the
counter between her legs and licked her pussy.  

"Janice," I said, my voice muffled in muff, "I'm going to make
her scream.  Get ready to put your hand over her mouth."

Janice stepped closer and prepared to carry out my instructions.
Jolene looked like she was having second thoughts about the whole
thing, but she was so hot by now that she could not back out.

I gave Jolene's clit a few slow vertical licks to get her ready
and then I used Bambi's BumbleBee technique on her.  Sure enough,
I had no sooner started flicking her clit with the underside of
my tongue than she came really, really hard.  When she took a
deep breath to scream, Janice clapped her hand over her mouth so
that her scream was muffled.  I had to hang on tight to keep her
from thrashing around so much that she fell off the counter. 
When she slowed down, we just let her lie back against the metal
mirror while she recovered.  Apparently I needed to practice some
before I could get girls to pass out from the BumbleBee.

I led Janice down a few feet to the next open spot and had her
assume the same position on the counter.  As I bent down to taste
her sex, I said, "Try not to bring the whole school down here,
OK?"  After having seen what I had done to Jolene, she was eager
to try it for herself.  She nodded and spread herself open for
me.

Since Jolene had cum so quick, I took a little more time with
Janice, kissing her clit tenderly and even sticking my tongue up
her pussy as far as I could before assuming the BumbleBee
position.  I looked up at her face as I started and I saw her
eyes roll back in her head and a hand fly into her mouth as she
realized that she really was going to scream with pleasure from
what I was doing.  She was a trooper, though.  When she came, she
bit down so hard on her hand that I thought she would draw blood.
 She still squealed like a stuck pig when I kept flicking her
clit during her climax.  She also squirmed around so much that I
had to hold her to keep her from falling into one of the sinks on
either side of her.

When Janice had calmed down enough to be safe to leave alone, I
went back to Jolene to see how she was doing.  I grinned with
satisfaction when I saw that she had, indeed, passed out from
cumming so hard.

I told Janice, "I hate to wake her up, but if we don't get going
we will be late for class."

Janice was still too groggy to speak coherently, but she smiled
and reached out and stroked Jolene's cheek.  A string of drool
was running from the corner of Jolene's mouth into the sink.

I pulled my blouse out from under Jolene's inert form and put it
back on.  While doing up the buttons, I said, "Jolene?  Wake up
Jolene.  It's time to wake up, sweetie."  I had to shake her to
get her to open her eyes.  When they stopped rolling in her head,
she climbed unsteadily off the counter and practically fell on
me.  She grabbed me in a bear hug and kissed me harder than I
have ever been kissed before.  She tried to stick her tongue all
the way down my throat.  If we had had the time, I would have let
this go on, but the bell was about to ring.  I disentangled
myself from her and got her to help me get Janice down off the
counter as well.

When we were all standing on our own, I reached out and picked up
their panties off the counter to hand to them.  Jolene reached
for hers, but Janice said, "You don't wear panties, do you?"

"Only on special occasions," I said, "Most of my casual clothes
look better without underwear, so I quit wearing any."

"Then I won't either," Janice said.  Jolene dropped her hand and
nodded agreement.  "Besides," she continued, with a smirk on her
face, "I want to be ready the next time you want to do that to me
again.  And I hope you will.  Please?"

"Oh, you bet!" I said.  "I want to do this again sometime and
someplace where we can all scream our heads off.  What are you
two doing Saturday night?"

"Anything you want to do, Sam." Jolene said, with a grin the
equal to any of mine, "Anything, anytime, anyplace."  Janice
nodded vigorously and happily in agreement.

We had to run, but we all made it to our next class just as the
bell rang for the start of the period.  When I reached into my
bookbag for my textbook, I stuffed the two pairs of damp panties
into it.  I wanted to stuff them into my blouse pocket as a sort
of decorative kerchief, and to show off my conquests, but the
smell would have driven me crazy and it probably would have got
me sent to the office, too.

Gym was much more pleasant, because I had remembered to bring a
t-shirt that fit and one of my new sports bras.  The result was
that I was more relaxed and able to ignore the inevitable looks
of my classmates.  I was also able to participate better in the
activities, although I quickly realized that I would have to be
careful to avoid doing anything too improbable in front of the
other girls.  

I almost got caught once, when we were doing tumbling runs.  I
came out of a somersault too energetically and launched myself
into a high arc that I immediately knew was too much.  I tucked
and almost rolled into a stand-up landing when I came to my
senses and instead just let myself flop on the mat with a big
whoof!  When I rolled over, massaging my leg as though I had got
a cramp, that deflected any comments that might have been made
about the 15 feet I had covered in the air.

After that I was more careful, but I started to wonder what my
real potential might be.  I promised myself that I would let it
all out the next time I had a chance to workout unobserved.

The shower was almost as much fun as before.  I waited until
everyone had picked a spot before I went in.  I thought the other
girls would be less likely to avoid me if they had to be obvious
about doing it.

I was right.  When I turned on a shower between Polly and Dawn,
both looked at me with sidelong glances but with a quick look of
resignation, went back to their showers.  I was enjoying what I
thought was a normal moment when I began to feel the eyes on me
again.  When I wiped the soap from my eyes I saw that I was again
the center of attention.  The two girls on either side were
simply enjoying the equivalent of theatrical box-seats.  I
supposed that again I had allowed the idea of 'normalcy' to creep
into my vocabulary, when I knew that such a thing was unlikely to
ever again apply to me.

I shrugged off the brief disappointment I felt and tried to have
fun with the situation.  If they were going to get off looking at
me, I might as well have fun with them.  The way I saw it, one of
two things would happen.  Either they wouldn't want to play and
they would quit staring so I would leave them alone, or they
would want to play and I would have fun with them.  My problem
was to pick a game that would be innocent enough that we wouldn't
get in trouble.  It couldn't be explicitly sexual.  I had to be
able to imagine myself in front of the assistant principal
saying, "Oh, is that what you thought we were doing?  You have
such a dirty mind!  That's not what we were doing at all."

Heck, maybe the assistant principal would get off on hearing
stories of all-girl orgies in the gym showers.  Maybe I was
worrying for nothing.  

Whatever.  If they were going to stare at me, I would take that
as an indication that they wanted to get to know me better   that
they wanted to play.

I began quite simply by turning to Polly and handing her my soapy
washcloth.  "Do my back?" I asked, as innocently as I could.

Polly put out her hand automatically, as most people do when you
hand them something.  I put the washcloth in it and turned my
back, looking over my shoulder at her and smiling.  She hesitated
a second, as if she wasn't sure that this was something she
should be doing, but then she smiled back and started rubbing my
back with the soapy cloth.  I ducked my head so she could get the
back of my neck and then I arched my back as she washed from my
shoulders down my backbone.  She did a good job of washing until
she got to my bottom.  She hesitated again when the cloth passed
over my crack and I really thought she would stop there, but she
kept going.  She washed my cheeks and even ran the cloth into my
butt-crack, before going down the backs of my thighs to scrub my
legs all the way to my feet.

The feeling of having someone bathe you must be one of those
sensual experiences that we remember from infancy.  Even though
Polly did only a straightforward job of washing me, I still felt
very warm and loved.  The feeling of the hot water and the slick
soap and the coarse texture of the cloth all seemed magnified
when someone else was handling it.  Every inch of skin she
touched made me more aroused and I began to anticipate her and
turned slightly as she washed me to present each section of my
back and legs for her care and attention.

When she had done all she could reach from behind, I turned to
take the cloth from her.  When I saw that her nipples had
hardened from washing me and that she was soaping up the
washcloth again, I dropped my hand down to my side instead of
reaching up as I had intended.  I stood there waiting to see what
she would do.  Her eyes were focused on my breasts and I could
tell that she wanted to continue my bath on the flip side.  

I stepped forward so that the soap from the cloth dripped onto my
left breast and Polly started to wash that breast with large
swirls of the soapy cloth.  She did not linger, but went across
my chest and throat to the other breast and washed that one as
well.  She then went on to wash my whole front as thoroughly as
she had done my back, and with as little sexual content to the
act as before.  It wasn't until she got to the spot between my
legs that she hesitated again.

She had just done both thighs and my pussy was the next logical
place to go.  When she paused, I put a hand on her back as though
to brace myself and I spread my feet apart slightly in
invitation.  Again, she responded by washing the offered area. 
She pressed the soapy cloth between my legs and washed me as she
would have herself.  Her hand was completely covered by the cloth
and the only skin contact was my own hand on her back.  

When she finished, she held out the cloth to me and turned her
back and looked over her shoulder as I had done.  The implication
was clear.  She was inviting me to wash her as she had done me. 
I re-soaped the cloth and did exactly as she had done   a
thorough job of washing with no attempt at a caress or
unnecessary touching.  Even so, when I ran the cloth between her
legs, I could feel her tremble at my touch and her hand tightened
on my shoulder as she braced herself to keep from falling.  This
deliberately nonsexual act of washing each other was still one of
the most erotic things I had ever experienced and we were both on
the verge of climax when it was over.

As I turned to rinse off, I noticed that not one single girl had
left the shower room.  Judging from the looks that I saw on some
faces, I could have a number of volunteers to bathe me if I
wanted.  I wanted, but time for play was over.  Again, I was the
first girl out.  As I left, I felt the steam in the room being
replaced by a cool draft as many of the shower-controls were
moved over to Cold.

As I dried off, I made a mental note of the girls who had looked
most eager to share my washcloth with me.  This seemed a perfect
way to encourage involvement beyond the staring stage and in an
act that no one could say was contrary to the purpose of our
being in the shower together.  Besides, having someone else wash
you inevitably resulted in getting cleaner than doing it by
yourself.  They tended to be more thorough and could reach places
much easier than you could yourself.  

Sure.  This wasn't likely to fly as an argument in front of the
school administration, but I couldn't see anyone reporting us for
mutual cleanliness so I never expected to have to use it.

I had just enough time to get dressed and still run into a
restroom stall and stroke my clit to climax.  I was so hot
already that it only took a few seconds.  When I left the stall,
I saw that there were two girls waiting to use it.  From their
body language, any flushing going on in that stall would not
involve water or drains.





Bambi picked me up after school so we could get right over to Mr.
Morton's and collect my new clothes.  I tried on a few as he
brought them out, but the fit was so perfect on everything that I
needn't have bothered.

While his clerk made several trips to carry everything out to the
car, Bambi and I were ushered into the back room and shown into
Mr. Morton's private office.  He closed the door behind us and we
all sat at a small table in the corner.  On the table were a
drawing pad and a small bolt of cloth.

"I want to thank you for coming to me for this, ah, special
request," he told us.  His voice betrayed his excitement.  He was
smiling broadly.  He obviously thought he had found something
that we would like.  "It was certainly one of the most
interesting projects I have ever worked on.  First, I would like
to show you this sample of cloth."

He unrolled a couple of feet and let a fold of it drape across
the yellow wood of the table.  I had thought it was gray at
first, but lying on the yellow-stained wood, it looked to be the
same color as the table.  Bambi and I examined it closely.  She
flipped over the end and we saw that the underside was gray. 
Until then, I had assumed that the cloth was translucent, and we
had been seeing the color of the table through it.

Mr. Morton smiled at our puzzled looks.  "You are partly
correct," he said, "The fibers do carry the light and pass the
color along their length, but it is a surface effect only and it
is polarized.  That is, it only works on one side of the finished
fabric.  Watch this."

He took a piece of dark blue cloth and put it under the fold of
fabric on the table.  Instantly the fabric turned dark blue.  He
replaced the blue cloth with a red swatch and it changed the
fabric red.  Then he laid out the blue and red swatches so that
both colors showed and when he put the bolt on it, it became
striped with both colors.

"As you can see," he said, "the effect is linear.  Only the woof
threads, that is, the threads running the length of the weave
carry the light.  The warp, or crosswise threads do not.  Here. 
Try to cut it."  He handed Mrs. Reynolds an open pocketknife.

Bambi tested the blade to satisfy herself that it was sharp and
slid it across the fabric.  When she picked up the blade, there
was no cut.  There was no damage at all that I could see.

"What is that, Kevlar?" I asked.

"Something much newer," Mr. Morton said.  "I got this from a
friend in the research lab of one of the major textile companies.
 I cannot tell you which one.  Confidentiality works both ways in
this case, I'm afraid.  No, this is a fabric that has no use at
the moment.  Its peculiar properties have no application that my
friend has been able to describe to the marketing people he works
with.  It is several times stronger than other aramid fibers, but
it is very difficult to work because of this.  The surface
optical effect would seem to make it a natural for camouflage
clothing, but the difficulty of making anything with it makes it
too expensive for that purpose."

He was smiling too much to be telling us that he had failed.  He
reached into a drawer and took out a glove of the material.  He
handed it to me and I pulled it on.  It fit perfectly.  It was
incredibly light and it stretched as I moved.

"I found that, while it is indeed very difficult to cut and sew,
it can be melted and welded by my laser-cutters.  You will note
that the seams are almost invisible.  I was able to fuse the ends
together without adding any additional stitching."

While I held my gloved hand in the air, the fabric appeared to be
a neutral gray, like looking at a pile of raw fiberglass.  When I
put my hand on the table, the glove picked up the color of the
table and my hand almost disappeared.

"I have some sketches I would like to show you," Morton said.  He
opened the drawing pad and displayed his concept of a skin-tight
catsuit made from the amazing cloth.  The figure in the drawing
was obviously me.  I wondered if Morton had enjoyed duplicating
my curves on paper.  The drawing certainly showed a great
attention to detail, but then, Mr. Morton was a very
detail-oriented man.

"If you like, I can have the rest of the garment finished by the
close of business on Friday," he said.  I got the impression that
he hadn't stopped at one glove, but he didn't want to tell us
that he had done more work than what he had shown us.

"This is much more than I had ever expected," Bambi told him. 
"You have exceeded my greatest expectations.  But this must be
very expensive to do.  How much will this cost?"

"Nothing," he said with an air of finality.  "I do not want money
for this."  Something about the way he phrased that told me that
he wanted some form of non-monetary compensation.

Seeing my expectant gaze on him, he opened a drawer and took out
a metal bar that was about a foot long and a half-inch in
diameter.  It looked like a piece of a fireplace poker.  He
placed the bar on the table in front of me and I knew immediately
what compensation our dear Mr. Morton wanted.

Bambi looked puzzled as I picked up the bar.  She didn't
understand.  She and Morton watched as I took an end of the iron
rod in each hand.  I knew this would be hard, so I closed my eyes
and tranced as soon as I had a good grip.

I focused my mind on adding all the strength I could to my arms.
I pictured the bar in my mind.  I imagined it bending.  I
visualized it curving.  I pushed and pulled on the bar as hard as
I could and with one great exertion I twisted that piece of metal
into the shape of a pretzel and dropped it onto the table, where
it landed on the swatches of fabric with a loud thud.  

The thud seemed to echo in the small office.  I detranced and
rubbed my hands together to work out the impression that the bar
had made.  Both Mr. Morton and Bambi stared at the twisted metal
object in the middle of the table as though it had magically
appeared out of thin air.  I was startled as well.  Bending the
bar had been much easier than I had expected.  Not for the first
time, I had an uneasy feeling about being so strong. 

I looked at my hands.  The impression from gripping the bar had
already faded.  I folded them on the table and watched Mr.
Morton.  He reached out and touched the metal pretzel.  He
snatched his hand back as he felt the heat that had been
generated by the sudden distortion of the metal.  It wasn't that
hot, and he touched it again and then picked it up and put it on
top of a pile of papers on his desk.

I expected Morton to look at me after my little demonstration.  I
expected to see awe, wonder, respect, or fear.  What I saw was a
childlike joy and smug satisfaction, like a little boy who had
just proven to a disbelieving friend that Santa Claus was real,
after all.  I tried to keep a neutral expression, to be cool and
nonchalant, but Morton's joy was contagious and I broke into a
grin.

"Thank you," he said.

"My pleasure," I answered.

Bambi said to Morton, with a tone that said she had just figured
something out, "You're a Fan."

"I am," he confessed.  I thought I understood, but Bambi, as
usual, had more insight than I did.  "I have been all my life.  I
go to all the Cons I can, and I've always considered myself a
True Believer.  Now I have been shown that faith is no longer
necessary.  Now...", he glanced at his new paperweight and then
he looked at me, "...I have proof.  All the proof I need." 

"If," he said, changing the subject, "If my basic design is
acceptable, I would like to discuss accessories.  You have
already decided that a cape would be impractical.  How about a
mask?"

"Also unnecessary," Bambi said, looking at me.  I shrugged. 
Morton was now an ally whose loyalty would only become more solid
the more he knew about my abilities.  I watched his eyes go wide
and his eyebrows shoot up his forehead as I mentally erased my
school makeup and substituted the face of the Dragon.

Although I reverted to my normal appearance after a few seconds,
Morton's chalk-white complexion took a little longer to return to
fade.  While we waited for his composure to return, Bambi said,
"You've made the teeth bigger."

"Yes," I said.  "Do you like it?"

"I do indeed.  But let's see what Mr. Morton thinks."

Morton swallowed largely, twice, before he could speak.  "Most,
ah, impressive," he said.  "The, ah, teeth are, ah, large."

"You don't think they're too big?" I asked.

"No, no.  They are, perfect.  Is that a skin effect?  It looks
so, ah, three dimensional."

"It's like a temporary tattoo," I told him.  "I can't wear makeup
or it spoils the effect.  So I use my ability to change my skin
to make it look like I have on makeup.  The Dragon is something
from a movie that scared me when I was younger."

"I think I remember that one," he said, "British production, as I
recall.  Can't remember the title, though.  Well, no mask.  How
about shoes?"  He picked a box up from under his desk and sat it
on the table.  

I checked the label and saw they were my size.  I opened the box
and took out a pair of black running shoes with crepe soles and
Velcro straps instead of laces.  When I tried them on, they fit
perfectly and I said so.

"Excellent!" Morton said.  "Laces would be a hazard and the crepe
won't squeak on smooth floors.  The suit will have feet, so you
won't need socks.  With the gloves you will be fully protected
except for your head.  How about a hood, or a cowl?  Your blonde
hair will be visible otherwise."

"That's a good idea," Bambi said.  I nodded.  My hair was one of
the things I couldn't change, the other was my nails.  I had no
control over dead cells.

"I can make it loose," Morton continued, "so it won't muss your
hair.  You will be able to pull it over your head, but it won't
obstruct your vision."

"Great!" I said.  "Too bad I won't have pockets.  I can see
needing to carry things."

"Yes, I thought of that.  How about a fanny-pack?  I can make you
a matching belt with a pouch that you could wear however was most
convenient.  I could also make a larger backpack for those times
when you needed to carry equipment.  I can see you wanting a
climbing rope and a grappling hook."

Morton had clearly put some thought into this.  Unless I
developed the ability to fly, a rope would be a useful thing to
have.  He started me thinking about other items of equipment that
would be handy.

He saw me nodding and said, "Very well.  I'll get started on this
right away.  The suit will be the hard part.  The rest will take
no time at all.  I should still have everything by Friday
afternoon."



On the way home, Bambi said, "You surprised me, bending that
metal bar.  Have you been working out?"

"It surprised me too.  Yeah, Jim helps me with the weights.  I'm
able to press almost three times my body weight.  Or at least I
was.  I think I'm getting stronger."

"Does that bother you?  You had a strange look there for a second
when you made Mr. Morton his paperweight."

"I'm not sure that 'bothered' is the right word.  It makes me
uneasy to find out how strong I'm getting.  It makes me wonder
where it will all end.  What am I becoming?"

"That is a question that every girl your age asks herself."

"Good.  I'm glad something about all this is still normal.  You
know, I almost made a slip today in Gym.  I forgot myself for a
second and came out of a somersault too quickly.  The next thing
I knew I was six feet in the air."

"What did you do?"

"I flopped on the mat and faked a leg cramp.  I don't think
anyone noticed, but it started me wondering how I can explore my
limits if I have to keep covering up like that."

"I hope the changes to the workshop will help with that," Bambi
said.  "They were in there all morning, banging away.  You should
be able to use it by the weekend.  And maybe Master Li will be
able to help with the rest."

"I hope so.  And I can't wait to see what else you are having
done to the workshop."

"Now, no peeking until Friday.  I want it to be a surprise."

"OK, Mom."  As usual, that got me a hug and a kiss at the next
light.





Neeka dropped by after work, as she promised.  I was up in my
room, trying to get my wardrobe organized in my closet. 

"Hi, Sam.  Wow, what a lot of stuff!  Did you clean out
Morton's?"  She asked as she picked up a microtop/microskirt set
in gold lame  

"Mom got me a new wardrobe to go with my new boobs.  Doesn't this
look familiar?"

"It looks just like the clothes she let us try on Sunday morning.
 You two are going to be the best dressed women in town.  Men
will be falling all over you."

"So far it's been all girls.  Have you been picking up what's
been going on?"

"Some.  I have to try to screen it out, or I won't get my
schoolwork done.  When you are in range, it's like a radio
playing.  I can ignore it until you cum.  Then I cum too."

"Uh oh.  Should I try to hold out?  I hope I'm not messing you
up."

"No!  As long as it's between classes, it's fine.  The other day
when I was giving a book report in my English V class, you took
me by surprise.  I claimed it was indigestion, which no one
doubted since the cafeteria ladies are not known for their light
hand with the lard.  Mostly, it just really brightens my day. 
I'll be walking down the hall and WHAM, a climax.  You know, you
cum four or five times a day.  And that's before school lets
out."

We both giggled over that.  I said, "I hope I'm not wearing you
out."

"I'm not the one expending the energy.  I just reap the benefits.
 One of which is that people think I'm losing my shyness because
I'm so happy and relaxed all the time.  I've gotten more in tips
at the coffee shop in the last two days than I made in the
previous two weeks.  Your sex drive is making me rich."

"I guess that's a good 	thing, all right.  Maybe I should get a
commission?  Nah.  I'll find some way to take it out in trade." 
As I said that I leaned over the bed and kissed her.  She kissed
back hungrily and we made out for a bit before the pile of
clothes distracted us and we went back to admiring Mr. Morton's
handiwork as we organized my closet.

"So when can we take the bike out for a run?" Neeka asked, as she
hung up my black velvet gown in what we had designated as the
Formal section of the closet.  

I should have known she had been thinking about the motorcycle. 
Ever since she had seen it she had wanted to take it out.  Moving
it to the garage had just whetted her appetite for riding the big
machine.  I still hadn't got over my initial fear of the thing. 
It had scared me silly both times I had been on it and I was not
looking forward to a 'real' ride.  I just knew Neeka would want
to test the bike to its limits and I most definitely did not want
to be part of a test-to-destruction.  I tried to find some excuse
to delay beyond the weekend, but nothing good came to mind.

"Friday," I said.  "We'll take it out Friday night.  Everything
should be finished by then."  I hoped that I wouldn't be on the
list of finished items.

"Don't worry," she said, laughing, "I won't let you fall off." 
Considering that she had almost lost me going down the driveway,
that wasn't completely reassuring.

I expected an argument about waiting so long before taking the
bike out, but she had let me make the decision and I had, so she
accepted it.  I thought that was a good sign.  If I was going to
be out on the street, kicking ass and taking names, I wanted a
partner who would back me up, not second-guess every decision I
made, however trivial.

"You're the boss," she said.  I took a deep breath and let it out
slowly.  More responsibility.  I was getting that feeling of
being tensed-up again.

As soon as we had my closet as organized as it was likely to be,
I changed into a pair of running shorts, sneakers, and a t-shirt
and we went down to the back yard so I could let off some steam.

As soon as we set foot in the yard, Brute came bounding over.  He
ignored Neeka and jumped all over me.  I had never seen an animal
so happy to see me in my life.  You would think it had been
years, instead of just that morning when I fed and watered him,
since he had seen me.

I wrestled him to the ground and we went rolling and tumbling
around on the grass.  At first he was gentle, but when I picked
him up in my arms and shook him, he got the idea that I wasn't
the creampuff that I appeared and he started playing rougher.  

Rough was just what I wanted at the moment.  When I scrambled to
my feet, he tried to knock me back down again by pushing against
my legs.  I was afraid if he got me down I wouldn't be able to
get back to my feet, so I kept pushing back.  I was probably
stronger, but he had the greater mass and a lower center of
gravity, so he was getting the best of the pushing contest.

The third time I almost got knocked down, I fell across his back
with my arms around his neck.  Brute knew this game and took off
running.  He took the same track as before, running
counterclockwise around the large yard, up the slight rise and
across the back of the house and then down toward the woods and
across the wide part of the yard.  As we passed Neeka, she called
out, "If you could figure out how to steer him, you wouldn't need
the bike!"

The next time around, I yelled back, "He doesn't have any brakes,
either!"

All this was great exercise for Brute, but wasn't helping me, so
I hopped off and somersaulted on the grass.  When I came up, I
started running.  Brute had stopped when I got off, but when I
ran past him he fell into step with me.  We raced around the yard
once, almost as fast as he had when carrying me.  

The second time around I poured on the speed.  After a few yards,
I found I had to change my stride because I was losing traction.
I kept bouncing up with each step and launching myself into a
running long jump.  I tried leaning forward, but that did not
help much.  I found that my best speed depended on a long stride
and trying not to bounce.  

The next time around the yard, I saw Brute sitting next to Neeka,
watching me run.  I hadn't even realized that he had dropped out
of our race.

As I ran down the slope toward the woods, I felt myself lose
traction and I bent my knees and let myself drop back to the
ground.  When I hit, I pushed off as hard as I could with both
feet, arching my back and throwing my arms over my head.

I flew into the air boobs first.  The wind blowing past was
exhilarating.  I had jumped a good twenty yards from the tree
line, but they seemed to be approaching awfully fast.  I twisted
my head and looked down to try to judge my landing.  To my great
surprise, I was still a good six feet in the air and seemed to be
dropping very slowly.

I made a guess at where I would land and swung my arms and legs
forward in the normal long-jump landing position.  It still
seemed to take a long time before I hit the ground and when I
did, I was moving much too fast to stop.  I started running again
and turned as sharply as I dared to keep from smacking into the
trunk of a tree.

I slowed to a stop and looked back.  I walked to the spot where I
landed and started pacing off the distance to my takeoff spot. 
Neeka and Brute came running over to join me.

"Holy moly!  How far was that?" she asked.  "I didn't think you
were going to ever come down!"

I finished pacing and counted it up and counted it up again. 
"Even allowing for my very rough estimate of the distance," I
said, stunned, "I just broke the World Record for the Long Jump
the Men's Long Jump."

"What?  How long is that?"

"29 feet and change."

"How far did you go?"

I took a deep breath.  This had not been the tension-relieving
experience I had expected it would be.  "Something over forty
feet." I said.  "But there's a slope here where I took off."

"Took off is right!  You were flying!"

Neeka's enthusiasm started to infect me as well.  I had just
broken a World Record, without trying.  What could I do if I
tried?  What could I do if I really tried?

"Here," I said.  "If I'm going to do this, let's do it right. 
There's a tape measure in the shed.  And a bag of bone meal we
can use to mark lines.  Let's lay out some measured lines and try
it again on the level."

Brute still wanted to play, but he was less insistent than
before.  I think he realized that we had something else to do at
the moment.  Neeka got the tape and I carried the bag of bone
meal out onto the flat part of the yard, out next to the woods
where it was widest.  We laid out six rows of white lines, each
exactly ten feet apart.  Then we added short marks halfway
between the ten-foot lines.  In only a few minutes, we had a
fifty-foot-long ruler laid out on the ground.

Neeka and Brute went back toward the house and partly up the
slope to get a good view.  I walked to the first line and backed
off all the way to the hedge on the property line.  I would have
just under a 100-foot run-up.

I stood with one foot in front of me, breathing deeply and trying
to relax.  I tranced and visualized the run-up and the take-off
just at the first white line.  I went over what I wanted to do
again and again until I felt ready.  I swung my arms back and
forth to get the most momentum to start and then I started
running as hard and as fast as I could.

The first line came up incredibly fast and I planted my right leg
as viciously hard as I could and threw myself into the air. 
Again, I had the sensation of flying, but this time I did not
look down.  I focused on getting my legs out in front of me, and
landing as far away as I could.  I was almost bent over double
when my heels hit and I rolled forward over my knees.  I was
lying flat on my back on the cool grass when I heard cheering. 
Up on the slope were Neeka, Bambi, Bud, Jim and Brute.  Everyone
was cheering, except Brute.  I stood up and looked around to find
my mark.  I walked back and stood where my heels had made dents
in the sandy soil.  The marks were fully five feet past the last
white line.  I had covered a distance of fifty-five feet, which
was over twice the world record distance for the women's long
jump, although I didn't know that at the time.

I looked up at my audience and raised my hands, both to
acknowledge their applause and to wave them back.  I was pumped
now.  I wanted to try it again.

I walked back to my starting point and counted the number of
steps I would take to the take-off point.  I pictured a different
approach and takeoff.  I braced myself and started breathing as
fast and as hard as I could.  When I had worked up all the
adrenaline I could muster and my blood was boiling with it, I let
out a high scream and took off running.  This time I paced my
approach and timed it so I was going as fast as possible one step
before take-off.  I took a little hop up to the line and planted
both legs and went down to a half-squat before jumping forward
with my arms extended.  It was the classic superheroine takeoff.
All I needed was the cape snapping behind me.  I kept my head
down between my arms and my legs straight to make myself as
aerodynamic as possible.  Only when I felt myself dropping on the
far end of the arc did I pull my arms down and into a tuck.  I
somersaulted in as tight a ball as I could and waited as long as
I dared before snapping out and reaching for the ground with my
toes.  My timing was perfect.  I landed on both feet and jogged
away.

I slowed to a walk; turned around and headed back.  My cheering
section was running down to meet me.  Jim and Neeka arrived first
with Brute beside them.

"Where's my mark?" I asked.  Neither answered.  They just pounded
me on the back and kept saying, "That was great!  That was
fantastic!"

When Bud and Bambi came up we all walked back to my landing point
for the second measured jump.  While Neeka stood on the mark, Jim
pulled the end of the tape back to the last line.  The tape ran
out just as he reached it.  That made the total distance over
sixty-five feet.

Everyone hugged me and kissed me.  Even Brute tried to get in on
the act.

Neeka said, "Sam, that wasn't a jump, that was flying."

Bambi hugged me, and said, "That was wonderful!  That was
amazing!"

I pulled back from her embrace and said, "I can do better."

"I don't doubt that for a second, honey.  But right now you need
to run inside and get cleaned up for dinner.  I thought I would
do something simple for a change, so I made fried chicken and it
was much harder than I thought it would be."

"So, you have some more respect for the Colonel now, hunh?"  I
was ready to duck, but she just smiled at my sarky question.

Neeka ran off to eat with her mother and the rest of us went back
inside, except Brute.  He seemed disappointed that all his people
were together and he could not be with them, but he settled down
by the door to keep watch without too much whining.

I went to my room to take a quick shower.  On the way, I stripped
and dropped my workout clothes down the laundry chute in the
hall.  I was heading into my bathroom when I noticed that I could
see our homemade athletic field from my window.  As I looked down
on the spot where I had demolished all existing records for the
long jump, I thought about how my name would never be in the
record books and how my athletic accomplishments would be limited
to the boundary of that yard.  It made me think about how
different I was, not only from the person I had been a few weeks
earlier but now from the rest of humanity.

I thought about how my choices in life would be constrained by my
abilities.  It was ironic that, now that I had something to brag
about, I was more aware than ever how publicity could ruin my
life and the lives of my family and friends.  Celebrity was
something I had daydreamed about before.  Now that I had it in my
grasp, I realized that it was much better left a dream.

I thought about how my costume, with its capacity for
concealment, would be a fitting analogy for my life   hiding in
plain sight, like a chameleon.  I even began to regret the allies
I had made in Sheriff Foster and Mr. Morton, useful though they
would be to my career.  The more people who knew my secret, the
greater my risk of eventual exposure.

It was all a matter of risk.  Strangely, the obvious risks to my
life and limbs did not bother me as much as the risk of being
labeled a freak or an oddity and spending the rest of my life
trying to hide, like a roach on a kitchen floor when the light
went on.

In the corner of the room next to the window was an antique
full-length mirror on a stand.  I turned and looked at my
reflection in it.  I saw a short girl with very large breasts, a
narrow waist, boyish butt, trim but muscular legs, and a golden
all-over tan.  I did not look like a champion athlete or a
crime-fighting superhero.  I put my shoulders back, tightened my
stomach, tweaked my nipples to make them stand out, and posed
with one hand on a hip, one knee bent and my toes pointed.  I
thought I looked great.  I had no problem with being admired, not
for my body or my mind, but I had no desire to live my life under
a microscope, either figuratively or literally.  If I had to make
compromises, if I had to hide my light under the proverbial
bushel, if I had to play the Dumb Blonde part that Bambi
suggested was my natural cover, although I still wasn't convinced
that a Smart Blonde cover wouldn't work as well, then I would do
it.  I decided that as long as I made the choice with my eyes
open and my head up, then I could accept the consequences of my
choice with no regrets.

I skipped off to the shower with a much better frame of mind.  I
even smiled at the term 'Smart Blonde'.  It sounded like some new
kind of military hardware.  I was going to be a devastating new
kind of weapon, all right.  I was going to be The Dragon.  I had
the strength, the speed, and the power.  All I lacked was control
and experience.

"Patience, Sam," I told myself as the hot water poured over me. 
"You also lack patience."

After a hurried primp at the vanity to brush my blonde mop into
shape, I was faced with another hard choice.  I had no idea what
to wear to supper.  With all those marvelous clothes in my
closet, I could not stand to put on another pair of shorts and
t-shirt.  Still, most of my new clothes seemed far too fancy to
wear to eat fried chicken in.

I chuckled at the image of me, sitting at the table in a formal
ball-gown with elbow-length gloves on, daintily holding a
drumstick.  That was the old me, afraid to wear something nice,
something special.  Who would be seeing me?  Only the people who
meant the most to me.  Weren't they worth wearing nice clothes
for?  If not them, who, for goodness sake?

I took a page from Mrs. Reynolds book and put on a buttonless
gold shirt with a matching chain-mail belt.  The front hung open
all the way down below my navel.  The belt held the tails closed
at the tops of my thighs and the back hung down just below my
read end.  The sides were slit up above my waist and the filmy
gold fabric was sheer.  If I had tan-lines, they would have been
visible.  As it was, the shirt appeared opaque because my skin
tone underneath complemented the light shade of the cloth.

I put on a pair of high-heels to match and posed in front of the
mirror.  I changed my makeup from schoolgirl to vixen.  I looked
like I belonged in a mens' magazine; maybe in a perfume ad or
maybe even as the centerfold girl.  

That reminded me that Mrs. Reynolds had stocked the vanity in my
room with a selection of expensive perfume that had accumulated
over the years into a drawer full of scents.  I picked a brand
that I recognized and sprayed my neck with it.  I guess I was
only used to the cheap stuff, because the power of it nearly
knocked me down.  For a moment, I thought I would have to jump
back in the shower to wash some of it off, but when I backed out
of the cloud it didn't seem so bad so I left it alone and went
down to supper.

The high heels almost did me in on the stairs.  They were mules
with 5" heels and much taller than anything I had worn before.  I
almost took them off so I wouldn't fall down, but after the first
flight of stairs I caught on to the trick of keeping an even
amount of weight on my toe and heel.  Leaning forward or backward
was dangerous.  I had to stand and walk like a statue.  This did
wonders for my posture and made me feel elegant.

I was later than I expected for supper.  Bambi had already served
our plates, but everyone had waited for me.  I walked into the
room with as much grace and poise as I could manage.  The
reaction I got made me feel like a princess.

The boys practically gaped, while Bambi beamed.  Her lips said
happy while her eyes said proud.  I thought it was because I had
dressed-up until Bud inadvertently explained it.

"Gee, you look just like Mom!" he said.

The silence was deafening as we all considered the implications.
I had tried to copy Bambi's style and elegance, but not to make
myself an imitation of her.  I tried to think of something to
say, but failed.  Jim wisely kept his mouth shut and let things
run their course without his input.  It was left to Bud to defuse
the situation by stuffing his other foot into his mouth.

"I...I mean that in a good way!" he explained.

We all broke out laughing at that.  Bud blushed brilliantly red
as he saw that he had only dug himself deeper in to an already
awkward position.  Bambi walked up behind him and dug her fingers
into his hair.

"That's all right, honey," she told him, leaning down to kiss his
forehead.  "I know what you meant.  You meant Samantha looks
elegant and stunningly beautiful, didn't you?"

"Yeah!" Bud said, glad to have his thoughts translated so
clearly.  "And she's seriously hot, too!"

"Just like Mom," I added, glad to finally have a lever to pull in
the conversation.  

Bud suddenly looked aghast, as he realized what he had just
confessed.

Jim knew better, but could not refrain from kibitzing. He said,
"Way to go there, Bud.  Get out of that one."

Bambi took a grip on Bud's hair and turned his head so he was
looking up at her between her breasts.  She asked, "So, you think
Mommy is hot?"

Bud knew he had a 50/50 chance at the right answer and must have
figured it would go worse for him if he tried to backpedal. 
"Yes!" he said, hopefully but with a hint of resignation in his
voice.

"Thank you, honey," Bambi told him.  "That's the nicest thing
you've ever said to me."  She bent down and kissed him on the
cheek, leaving him with a bewildered expression.

I walked over and stood next to poor Bud.  From atop my heels I
seemed to be towering over his seated form.  I thought briefly
about leaning down to kiss him, but doing so would probably have
resulted in me landing in his mashed potatoes.  Instead, I swung
one leg over him and sat down in his lap, straddling him with my
breasts pressing his chest.  One of them had popped out of my
shirt, but at the moment, that wasn't a bad thing.

"So you really think I'm seriously hot?" I asked in a coy tone. 
I didn't need an answer to that.  My naked pussy was pressed
right on his stiffening cock.  I could feel it trying to
straighten out inside his nylon running-shorts.  I rose up
slightly to relieve the pressure and felt it come up right in
line with my slit.  I lowered myself back down and started a slow
grind against him, my mouth open, my breath quickening, and my
juices beginning to flow inside my pussy.

Bud seemed entranced by my lap-dance right here at the dinner
table.  He stared right into my eyes and said, "Unhunh."  That
silver-tongued stud had such a way with words.

I rubbed my breasts on his chest and pressed against him and
kissed him deeply.  When he kissed back, I moaned and sucked his
tongue into my mouth, teasing it like it was the head of his
cock.  I ran my hands through his hair and then caressed his face
and his firm chest.  I stroked my left hand down between my legs
and felt the hardness of his cock through his pants.  It was
rock-hard and almost sticking out of the waistband.

I decided to help it along and took hold of the waistband of his
shorts and yanked down, exposing his huge shaft to my hot pussy.
I dropped onto it and felt the heat of it as it slipped along my
slit between my labia like a hot dog in a bun..

Bud took hold of my ass and stroked and squeezed my cheeks.  I
had thought he might resist at some point, since his brother, and
more importantly, his mother were sitting right next to us,
watching the festivities.  I was wrong.  Bud seemed willing to
let this go as far as I wanted.  

By now, what had begun as an act on my part was becoming very
real indeed.  I was astride Bud's huge cock and I was so hot that
I was on the verge of impaling myself on it and fucking him right
there at the dinner table.  As I stroked and caressed his cock
with my wet pussy-lips, I whispered in his ear, softly, so that
only he could hear, "Oh, Bud.  I'm so hot.  I want your big cock
in my pussy so bad.  I want to feel your hard cock inside me.  I
want you to fuck me, Bud.  I want you to fuck me hard and long
and then I want you to cum in me and fill me up.  Oh god, Bud.  I
can hardly wait until Friday night." 

I went back to my own chair and sat down.  I sipped my iced-tea
and tried to cool off.  I was very aware of my extended and
sensitive nipples rubbing against the thin cloth of my shirt.  It
was all I could do to keep my hands off myself.  I looked around
and thought that if I had gone through with it and fucked Bud
right then and there, everyone in the room would most certainly
have cum along for the ride.  I smiled into my tea and filed the
idea away for some future time.

When everyone's breathing returned to normal, we ate our chicken,
green beans, and mashed potatoes.  



After supper, we all helped clean up.  The kitchen was a real
mess.  Bambi had managed to get oil all over everything while
frying the chicken.  It looked like we were served the best
pieces out of two or three batches.  After it was all spick and
span again we headed down to the family room.

On the way I caught Jim's sleeve and pulled him aside.  

"Can I interest you in a lap dance, too?" I asked in as sultry a
voice as I could manage.  "We could even go someplace private if
you like."

"Sam," he began, in a tone dripping with regret and apology, "as
much as I want to, I'm going to have to ask for a rain-check on
that."

"What?" I said, incredulously.  Fooling around with his brother
had got me really worked up and I had been hoping that I could
get Jim to give me some much-needed relief.  I wasn't so much
offended at being turned down as curious about why.  "Jim," I
teased, "don't you think I'm sexy?"  I stepped close and pressed
my breasts against him as I stroked his cock through his shorts.
He was still pretty stiff from watching the show at dinner.

"Please," he said, putting his hand over mine and halting my
stroking.  "I promised."

"You promised?  You promised someone you wouldn't have sex with
me?"

"With anyone.  Not even jerking off."

I was nonplussed.  I could make a good guess at who, and the what
sounded very familiar, but I still wanted to hear it from Jim.

"Oh, Jim!  That's so sweet!  Can you tell me who?  Is it anyone I
know?"

He looked down at where I was still pressed against him and still
had my hand on his cock, taking his pulse with my fingers.  I let
go and stepped back a bit.

"Yes," he said.  "It's someone you know."

"Could it be someone with red hair who lives up the street?"

"Could be."

I suppose I had seen that coming.  Or rather I had heard that one
cumming since Sunday.  Neeka and Jim seemed to be developing a
relationship without me in the middle of it.  I had brought them
together, so I was responsible for any fire that those sparks had
started.  The least I could do was to help Jim keep his promise.

"OK," I said.  "Far be it from me to interfere.  I promise not to
tease you.  Well, not too much, anyway."  As I backpedaled on my
promise of non-interference, it occurred to me that the harder I
made things for Jim, the harder I would be making him for Neeka.
"If you want to save yourself for someone else, I think that's
certainly your choice to make."  I casually put one hand into my
cleavage and began stroking my breast.  I pulled my shirt open
and started running a finger around my nipple, making it stand up
and beg for more attention.  "But that also makes keeping the cum
in your balls your problem alone.  And I certainly hope it does
not mean that you will be avoiding me.  After all, you've already
proven that you can make me cum and still be true to your
girlfriend."

"I guess."  Jim seemed less than certain that he would be able to
continue to play with me and not have to cum for me.  

"Good!" I said, looking to get him to confirm his commitment. 
After all, I did not want him thinking he had to avoid me.  I
still needed his help and his companionship and right them I
needed his hands on my breasts.  I opened my shirt all the way
and used both hands to get my nipples stiff.  "Then we have an
understanding.  You and I can still play, but I won't try to make
you break your promise.  Fair warning, though; Neeka will find
out if you slip up and cum.  So keep a tight grip on those big
balls of yours."

Jim relaxed enough to put his hands on my breasts and take over
the massage for me.  He tweaked and pulled my hard nipples,
getting rougher and making me hotter as he did so.  I leaned back
against the doorjamb and started fingering my pussy as he
manhandled my breasts.

The bit about Neeka knowing was 'fair warning' indeed.  I had no
doubt at all that the snoopy redhead was listening avidly to the
whole conversation and enjoying every second of it.  I heard the
sound of giggling in my head that confirmed my assumption.

"How long are you going to torture the poor boy?" I thought,
while the boy in question worked to stretch out my nipples.

"Until one of us can't stand it any longer." I heard her say. 
"He's still too deferential to me.  I have to be the aggressor
and I want him to need me so bad that he quits thinking of me as
a someone to put on a damn pedestal and starts thinking of me as
a girl who needs a good fucking."

"So you're trying to give him a case of testosterone poisoning to
get him to the point where he will rape you?"

"You can't rape someone who's doing her best to get you to fuck
her." She said.  "I want him to need to cum so badly that he will
tear off my clothes and screw my pussy as brutally as he's
treating your boobs.  By the way, that's really turning me on. 
I'd be afraid if he were doing it to me, but feeling it through
you is incredible.  It's just so primal, so animalistic to be
treated that way.  I'm glad you wouldn't let him avoid you on
account of me.  Thanks for helping me get him worked up."

"You like him so much that you are trying to change him?  What
does this sound like?"

Again I heard a giggle.  "I guess it sounds like I'm serious
about Jim.  Now shut up and let me enjoy this."

Jim pulled and twisted both my nipples until he had them
stretched out far enough that he could almost wrap them around
his fingers.  I had frigged my pussy so deep that my hands were
covered with my juice.  I was trying to stay on the verge of
cumming without going over the edge.  I wanted to see what Jim
would do next to torture my breasts.

Jim twisted my nipples between his fingers and pulled up on them,
lifting my breasts up in front of my face and forcing me to stand
on my toes.  This made my clit throb so hard that I had to take
my hands away so I would not cum.  I put my hands behind my back
and interlaced my fingers.  I pushed my hands as far down the
crack of my butt as I could, forcing my shoulders back and
lifting my breasts high on my chest.

Jim braced himself and squared his shoulders.  I knew what he was
about to do and I almost came from the anticipation.  He squeezed
my nipples tight and pushed up as though he was doing a standing
press with a barbell.  I thought he could press more than my
paltry 100 pounds, and when I felt my feet leave the floor and my
high heels drop away from them he proved it.  The pain and
pleasure streaking through my breasts would have made me scream
if I had been able to breathe.  Being suspended by my nipples was
still my best trick and the one that gave me the biggest charge.
It was easily the strongest, most overwhelming sensation I could
imagine.  I wanted to hang like that forever, shaking with
pleasure and pain.

Lifting a dead weight like a barbell is different from holding a
live girl by her nips and Jim could only hold me for a few
seconds before he had to lower me to the floor.  My legs almost
collapsed under me and I fell back against the doorjamb to keep
from falling all the way to the floor.

My face must have betrayed the disappointment I felt at being let
down so soon, because Jim turned and opened a drawer in the hutch
beside us and started rooting around in it.  I waited patiently
for him to find whatever he was after with my hands still locked
behind me and my breasts raised for his attention.

When he turned from the drawer he had a small white plastic
device in his hand and he was smiling.  I did not recognize the
device.  It had a square opening on top about an inch wide and a
knob on the side.  Jim held it up so I could see into the opening
and turned the knob.  Inside were a set of plastic rollers with
square teeth that meshed together.

"Garlic press," he said.  "Sort of thing that accumulates in
kitchen drawers.  It doesn't do garlic worth a flip, but I bet it
will do you very nicely."  With that he held the device out so
that my stretched, drooping nipple was hanging into the hopper of
the device.  He looked me right in the eyes and turned the knob.

The rollers grabbed my sensitive nipple and pulled it between
them, brutally crushing my flesh.  I gasped and my head snapped
back.  The intensity of the sensation seared through my brain
like a bolt of electricity through a condemned prisoner in the
electric chair.  Jim turned the knob again and the little device
ate more of my nipple.  It felt like it was chewing it and
mashing it to a pulp.  Again the sensation shot through me, just
as powerful as before.  I must have cum somewhere during this
experience, but I can't remember anything but the pain of having
my nipple crushed.  Jim turned the knob a third time and I felt
the rest of my nipple go through the rollers and felt the little
hopper press against the swell of my breast.  

Jim took one look at the mangled piece of flesh sticking out of
the press and backed it off.  It hurt just as much going the
other way, maybe more, I could no longer judge.  The intensity
level that my nerves were capable of carrying to my brain had
been exceeded.  I now knew what ultimate pain felt like, and it
was very nice indeed.  Every part of me screamed in sympathy with
my nipple, the sensation filled me completely.

I couldn't even describe it as pain.  It seemed that I could feel
it as pain or pleasure, as I chose.  It was simply raw, pure
sensation.  I savored it, reveled in it, rejoiced in it.  Pain or
pleasure, I couldn't imagine a feeling being this strong.

I slumped back against the wall and I must have passed out and
slid to the floor, because I came to with Jim kneeling beside me
with a towel in his hand and a worried look on his face.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

I tried to smile and nod, but it must have been pretty weak,
because his expression became darker and more concerned.

"We better get some ice on that," he said, holding the towel out
in one hand and a fresh cube in the other.

When the ice touched me, the sensation was much weaker.  The
endorphins must have kicked in by then.  Everything seemed to be
swimming about and I was awash in a sea of pleasure.  The ice
made me cum again, a warm, cozy feeling in comparison to what I
had experienced.  I grinned and moaned as the climax and the
endorphins and the lingering vestiges of the massive jolts of
sensation sloshed around inside me.  

I was floating.  I let myself float to a familiar place where up
and down were equal in force and I felt connected to all parts of
my body.  Once there, I sent out the command to Heal.  It was as
if I could feel the millions of little cells rushing around in me
to carry out my command.  They were an army and I was their
general.  I gave them their marching orders and they rushed out
to do my bidding.  It was a wonderful feeling of power and
control to be able to order them around like that.  I was giddy.
I ordered the army of little cell soldiers to make my areola and
my nipples bigger so I could feel more with them.  I felt the
tissue swell as my command was carried out.

Jim must have felt it, too.  He took the ice away and looked.  I
saw his eyebrows jump as he saw the changes.

"A second ago," he said, "that nipple was a bruised and twisted
mess.  I was seriously thinking about calling an ambulance.  Now,
it looks normal.  Bigger, puffier.  But normal.  So does the
other one.  Did you do that?"

"Yeah," I said, still high as a kite and still tranced.  "The
same way I do this."  I put on my Dragon makeup.  This time, I
tried to animate it, to make the Dragon breathe fire.  I must
have succeeded.  Jim fell back on his butt on the floor with a
startled look.

"You got me with that one." He said, trying to recover his
composure.  "When you did it in the restaurant, I was amazed.  I
had no idea you could make it move like that.  That's really
scary, you know.  You can't see your face for the image.  When
you make it move, all you can see is the Dragon.  It looks
totally real.  I thought I was about to get burned from the
flame.  I swear I could feel the heat."

"Thanks.  It's nice to have my efforts appreciated.  Do you like
my new nipples?"

"Very much.  They remind me of an ice-cream sundae.  The scoop,
the sauce, and the cherry on top."  As he said 'cherry' he
reached out and touched the nipple that had gone through the
press.  His touch felt warm and nice.  The healing was over and I
was back to whatever passed as normal for me.

"Do you want to do the other one now?" he asked.

I giggled and shook my head, about to say "No" emphatically. 
Then I thought about it.  It was tempting, but it would probably
be too much of a good thing too soon.

"Later," I said.  "We'll do the other one some other time.  Right
now I am feeling so fantastic you wouldn't believe it.  Help me
downstairs?"

Jim stood and pulled me to my feet.  My legs were steady, but my
balance was rocky.  I tilted one way and then the other until he
pushed me back against the wall.

"Hang on a sec.  I'll take you down to the couch and you can
relax."  He rearranged my shirt, tucking it back into the belt
and covering my breasts.  He tugged it this way and that until he
had just the right amount showing.  Which seemed to be everything
except my areolas, part of which were just peeking out.  He even
left the tails of the shirt barely covering my pussy.  

It was very instructive.  Where I would have been careful about
not bunching the fabric and getting it to hang just right, Jim
was only concerned with how it showed me off, not how I showed
off the garment.  That was an important thing to know about
dressing for a boy.  Girls worry about the dress; boys only care
about what's in the dress.

I thought about that and came to the conclusion that it was
something to do with girls having fashion models as role models.
A fashion model's job is to make the clothes look good, not to
look good at the expense of the clothes.  Boys care about clothes
the same way they care about the wrapping paper on a present;
pretty, but something to be quickly discarded so they could get
to the good stuff inside.  Jim had dressed me as a favor to me,
but he did it to his own vision of what made me look good.

Thinking of myself as a present for a boy made me feel all tingly
and nice.  I pictured myself wrapped in bright paper with a bow
around my waist, waiting to have my wrapping ripped off so I
could make some boy happy.  I grinned even more as I thought
about that.

Jim interpreted my smile to mean that he had gone a good job with
my clothes.  He bent down and put his arm behind my back and
under my legs.  It was very easy to let him pick me up and carry
me.  I rested my head on his shoulder as he walked down the
stairs to the family room.

Bud was watching TV with his back to us, but Bambi looked up as
Jim carried me over to the sofa.  When she saw my face, she must
have figured that I was fine and just being me, because she went
back to her book immediately.  Jim laid me carefully on the couch
where I could see the TV.  My bare feet were right next to Bud,
and he took one look and scooted over so they were in his lap and
started to rub them.  If I thought I was in heaven before, this
clinched it.  I went as limp as a dishrag and closed my eyes.  

Over the next hour, my high faded away and left me with a
pleasant afterglow and a clear head.  I remembered modifying my
breasts and I pulled open my shirt and felt them.  The areola
were the same diameter, but were puffed up.  The nipples still
stuck out about an inch, but felt thicker.  I remember wanting
them to be more sensitive.  They certainly were that.  I thought
I could feel the ridges of my fingerprints where I touched them.

I saw Bud staring at them.  The tip of his tongue was sticking
out of his mouth and he was licking his bottom lip.  Apparently
the modifications met with his approval.  I got up and went over
to show Bambi.

"I made some improvements," I told her, holding my shirt open and
modeling for her.  "What do you think?"

"Wow!" she said.  "Is this a permanent change?"

"I think so," I told her.  "At least everyone seems to like it."

"Well, they will certainly attract attention under a tight top,"
she said, feeling their firmness.

"You mean even more attention than before?" I asked with a
chuckle.

"Point.  I'm curious   how hard was this to do?  How long did it
take?"

"Not hard.  And only a few seconds.  Why?"

"Because this goes beyond just changing your skin pigments or
rapid healing.  This is a real structural change. On a small
scale, of course.  But it is a big step beyond what you've done
before."

"Ah," I said.  "I had in mind making them larger and more
sensitive.  The 'more sensitive' part implied greater nerve
density.  I've been so wrapped up with the strength and physical
things that I hadn't considered that some of the other things
have to be due to changes in my nervous system...and my brain!" 
I checked the boys to see if they were listening in, but they
were engrossed in another game and paying no attention to us. 
"The telepathy and the intelligence are probably due to physical
changes in my brain.  If I can change one part of my nervous
system, I can probably change any of it."  I sat weakly down in a
wingchair next to Bambi.  "This is profoundly scary.  I may be
the first person in history to have the capacity for
self-evolution.  I can probably even rewrite my own DNA."

"Don't jump to conclusions." She warned me.  "It may not go that
far."

"You're right.  DNA is way too slow for what I have been able to
do   I think.  Dammit!  I don't know enough."

"All the more reason to be cautious.  I know you're going to
experiment, but go slow.  Learn as much as you can before trying
anything big."

I laughed.  "Define 'big'," I said.

"Your brain."

"Yah.  Good one.  You're right.  I'll really want to know a hell
of a lot more before I screw around with the stuff between my
ears.  I think we'll let that take its own course without any
help."  I thought about what I knew and what I wanted to know.  I
was going to have to learn a lot more about molecular
biochemistry before I even thought about messing around with
things beyond the cosmetic level.  I thought about the level of
science I was being taught in school and frowned.  I glanced at
Bambi.  She was watching me think.  I'm sure it wasn't a really
great spectator sport.

"I'm being impatient, aren't I?" I asked.

"Yes.  You are.  You're developing quickly enough as it is. 
Don't push it."

"You think the impatience is a side-effect?"

"I think it's...well, I was going to say 'normal', but I know you
don't like that word.  But it certainly could be a natural
side-effect of your hormones."

That was comforting, but not helpful.  There was so much I wanted
to know, and it would probably be years before I could learn
enough to be able to make even educated guesses about what was
happening to me.  Apparently all I could do at the moment was to
observe and record.  It would be some time before I was qualified
to form a hypothesis and I would need one before I could
undertake any formal experiments.  I looked at Bambi, wondering
if I should even bring up the subject of me going to college.  I
knew that Dad and Yvette hadn't managed to save enough to put me
through anything other than the local two-year technical college
and when Dad left.  That would have been just enough to get me a
job in one of the trades, or maybe just an entry-level
secretarial position.  When Dad left, my chances of getting a
university degree pretty much vanished too.

"I don't need telepathy to read your mind, now," she said. 
"You're wondering how long it will be before you know enough. 
The answer is 'never'.  There is always something else to find
out.  At least that's what Ben always said.  It's probably why he
kept running off on those expeditions   to find out things he
didn't know."

"He sounds like a really smart man," I said.  "Actually, I was
wondering if I should apply for a scholarship.  My grades have
been really good lately.  Maybe I could talk one of my teachers
into putting me up for one."

"I think we can get you accepted at the local institute of higher
learning.  Scholarship or not."

"Hunh?"

Bambi chuckled, "If they won't take you, I'll ask them to return
the new science building Ben gave them."

"Oh."  That put a different spin on things.  "No scholarship?"

"You won't need one.  I'll send you anywhere you want.  I can
probably use Ben's 'good old boy' network to get you accepted
most anywhere.  If that fails, I'll buy someone another new
building.  But I'd rather you started off here for the first two
years.  That will give you a chance to fully develop your talents
and abilities in a more supportive environment.  Damn, I'm
starting to talk like you!"

"Neeka says the same thing.  I'm contagious."

"Well, it's probably not a fatal disease, but I'll have to watch
it.  I never went to college.  I was just a little local girl who
happened to meet and marry a future tycoon right out of high
school.  Most of my higher education was from talking with Ben. 
He was always running down one lead after another for a new plant
or a new chemical or something that he could synthesize and
market.  He had research labs all over the world and he loved to
explain all the projects to me when he was home.  I didn't
understand most of it, of course, but I learned enough to be
impressed in the right places."

I had moved into a big fancy house on a hill that had to have
been put together with bulldozers and earthmovers.  We frequently
ate at the best places in town.  I was building a wardrobe of
custom-made clothes.  But I still couldn't think of myself as one
of the 'rich people'.  It occurred to me to ask just how much
money Mrs. Reynolds had, just for informational purposes, but
that seemed terribly rude and I immediately shoved the thought
away and swore never to bring the subject up.  I tried to steer
the conversation back on course.

"My mind goes so fast that I run out of knowledge before I run
out of logic." I said.  "It's like crashing into a brick wall,
over and over.  Maybe that's why I have such a strong sex drive.
The chemicals released during orgasm seem to have a calming
effect, but they wear off quickly and I have to cum again and
again to keep the frustration at bay."

"So you think you're addicted to sex?"

"Yah."

"You're not alone.  Lots of people   lots of women have the same
problem.  Me, for example."

"Ah!  How very interesting, Mrs. Reynolds.  Would you like to
participate in an experiment to determine just how much sex is
required to achieve the optimum level of pacification?"

"Why yes, Dr. Kramer.  I think I would be willing to make that
sacrifice in the interest of the advancement of science."

"Then come with me up to my laboratory and we'll see just how
much it takes to fuck our brains out."



As it turned out, not very much at all.  At least for me.  We had
gone up to Bambi's room, which was one floor below mine.  The
selection of toys was better there, and her big whirlpool bath
was almost as large and as relaxing as the hot tub on the roof.

We explored the increase in sensitivity in my enlarged nipples
and compared it to the other available sample.  We experimented
with the relative degrees of pleasure to be obtained from various
sizes and types of toys and we drew corollaries between the
amount of energy expended and the number of climaxes that
resulted.   

The conclusion we came to was that an orgasm was a potent
antidote for stress and worry.  The bigger the orgasm, the more
stress was relieved.  The more orgasms, the longer the effect
lasted.  I realize that these findings are hardly new, but every
so often you need to re-verify certain assumptions.  It's just
good science.

We also established that the greater the number of nerve-endings
a part of the body has, the more sensitive that part will become,
and the more susceptible to erotic stimulation it will be.  I
learned this when I had my second orgasm just from Bambi licking
my nipples.  Along the way, I also learned that when you have
larger areolas and bigger nipples, when they crinkle up, get
stiff, or puff up, the feeling can be really intense.  This means
that when your boobs are stimulated, the result of the
stimulation becomes more stimulation and things can quickly
escalate from there.  I wondered if I hadn't overdone it just a
smidge.  It felt like my nipples were now as sensitive as my clit
when they were stiff, and they got stiff much more easily. 

Of course, this had very interesting possibilities for someone
like me who needed to climax every couple of hours to keep things
balanced between her cerebrum and her clitoris.  For one thing,
it meant that I could get a head start on things before I got to
the restroom stall to finish off.  It would be much easier to
covertly stimulate my nipples than my clit while sitting in a
classroom full of people.  A notebook, a forearm, or just leaning
over and letting them rub on the desktop would be sufficient. 
Working my clit meant a lot of leg-crossing and squirming that
was all too noticeable in a crowded classroom.  

The downside was that, under most of my clingy tops, my breasts
would look like the ends were capped with jumbo muffin tops with
gumdrops stuck on them.  (Never try to write when you're hungry.
It plays hell with your choice of analogies.)  When I was
aroused, the size of everything out there would double.  Anyone
caring to look would know that I was ready to pop.

I thought about that for a while, and decided that having a
reputation as an over-sexed blonde suited me better than a
reputation as a dumb blonde.  Ever since Bambi had suggested
that, I'd found it distasteful, but I hadn't been able to think
of an alternative.  Now I had one that could work to my advantage
in several different ways.  My breasts already marked me as
sexually advanced.  No one would be surprised that a girl with
such large boobs was also a sex kitten.  And no one would think
that someone like that might have a secret identity.  Of course,
lots of people might just assume that I was a dumb oversexed
blonde, but at least I would not have to act stupid all the time.
 That was something that was hard to do in school and keep my
grades up at the same time.  Bambi would have to accept this
version of my cover identity on that basis alone.  Also acting
like a sex-crazed teenager would be much less of a stretch for my
acting skills.  I suppose there is a lot to be said for
typecasting.

Another advantage to my revised cover was that I could get away
with a lot by blaming it on my raging hormones.  Any slips in
behavior or stifled orgasms in class or sudden absences or
tardiness could be blamed on things outside of my control.  As
long as I did not fuck the entire varsity football team on the
steps of the administration building, I would probably be safe
from censure.  Heck, if I did fuck the entire varsity football
team on the steps of the administration building, it would
probably be covered up because I was a just a poor unfortunate
girl who was the product of a broken home.  

I dropped the whole line of thought when it became clear that I
was becoming fascinated with the idea of fucking the entire
varsity...well, you get the picture.



I was so tired-out from our lovemaking that Bambi offered to let
me crash in her bed.  Although the idea appealed to me, I begged
off on the grounds that it was a school night and we might become
distracted and I might not get the sleep I needed.  I didn't
bother to explain that I needed a full night's sleep if I was
going to give Bud his wake-up call in the morning.  I was sure
Bambi wouldn't object to that, but I didn't want to sound like I
was picking him over her.  When I asked for a rain-check on
sharing a bed, I remembered my date with Bud on Friday and also
my plans for Saturday night.

"Would you mind if I had some friends over on Saturday night?" I
asked.

"Not at all," she said.  "Anyone I'd know?"

"Just a couple of girls from school.  Jolene Maddox and Janice
Dempsey."  I thought for a second about what I knew about Janice
and Jolene, which wasn't much.  "They are both my age, but Jolene
seems a couple of years younger.  We got together through a
mutual acquaintance just the other day, and I don't know much
about either of them, except that Janice's cousin is in show
business."  I was thinking about telling Bambi how Janice had
offered to help me get a job in the adult film industry. 
Apparently my expression gave something away because she became
suspicious.

"And what makes me think Janice's cousin isn't a ventriloquist
working the borscht-belt?" she asked with a grin.

"She goes by the name Summer Winters, and if that isn't clue
enough, she's probably one of Mr. Morton's more confidential
clients."

"Oh my goodness!  How did this subject come up?"  Bambi seemed
genuinely interested in Janice and her cousin.

"Janice offered to have her cousin get me a job in the movies."

"And you explained that....?"

"Oh yes.  Regretfully, I said I had a career already planned. 
She said it was good to have an alternative, in case Plan A fell
through."

Bambi laughed so hard she almost fell off the bed.

"And just what's so funny about that?" I asked in an incensed
tone.  "I could be an adult film starlet if I wanted."

"Oh no!" she giggled.   "It's not that.  You are actually
over-qualified by their standards.  I was just imagining Janice
pitching this offer to you.  It must have been funny as all
get-out!"

"It was pretty funny," I admitted.  "She told me this sad story
about her poor dysfunctional cousin that I was sure was going to
end in some kind of moral about how sex could ruin your life. 
When she told me her cousin was looking for a protge, I almost
choked on my lunch.  I think Janice would like to follow in her
famous cousin's footsteps, but her parents won't let her.  She is
certainly proud of cousin Shirlene.  Her Aunt and Uncle are
getting five thousand a month from their porn-star daughter, who
by all reports is happy as can be in her new job, so they're not
complaining.  But they're not broadcasting it, either."

"How did you leave it with Janice?"

"I told her I'd think about it, but I couldn't commit to anything
right now.  I hope I get to meet Cousin Shirlene some day."

"Me too," Bambi said.  She was thoughtful for a moment.  I saw
the wistful look in her eyes and I figured out why she had been
interested in Janice's cousin.

"Did you ever think about being in adult films?"  I asked.

"It was a fantasy of mine...and Ben's," she admitted.  "He
started it, but I really got into the idea.  The thought of being
watched by all those people...it still makes me sooooo hot!"  She
was getting turned on just remembering her fantasy and I was
getting hot just watching her and listening to her talk about it.
 I was also happy to hear her reminisce about Ben.  Now that she
had come to terms with his death, she thought about him
regularly, and always lovingly.

"I'd love to stay for another round, but one of us has school in
the morning," I said, hopping out of bed and heading for the
door.

"Sam?  Would you like to see one of Summer Winter's films?  I
could pick one up at that place out near the Interstate."

"The Pink Pagoda?  The place that sells all those toys...oh!"

"Yes, that place.  And yes, Ben and I were among their best
customers.  I'm sure they could get me a couple of her films;
they probably already have them in stock."

"Sure!  Maybe we could watch it Saturday.  From the way Janice
talked, I don't think she has seen her famous cousin in, ah,
action."

"How about the other girl...Jolene?"

"Jolene would love it too.  Oh, I hope I'm not betraying a
confidence here.  Jolene is still qualified to ride Unicorns."

"She's what?  Oh!  OK.  Well, we better keep the male contingent
of the household away from her, then.  They might see her as a
challenge."

"I think you aren't giving them enough credit.  They can be very
understanding about...things."

"If they have any 'understanding', as you put it, I'm certain
it's all due to you, honey.  You are an excellent influence on
them.  They seem less spoiled every day."

I knew the answer to that one, "Thanks, Mom!  Goodnight!"





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