Here's another Whateley fanfic that's been sitting around while I poke and prod at it, there's more to this one but I already have a chapter or two partitioned off, so here's the first one!

I threw the copy of the marriage license at him, which in reflection was stupid because it wasn't tied down with a large piece of marble, and it wound up flittering away until it landed beside him. "You want to explain this? Oh," I waved my left hand at him displaying the monster mound of diamond attached to my finger. "And this?"

Old Mrs. Pirelli was yelling at me from her backyard, "Joy! Come down from there! Yer gonna break ya neck!"

"Only if I fall. How you doing Mrs. P.?"

"What?!" she hollared, squinting into the harsh sun, "What're ya doin' up on the roof?"

"Cleaning out the rain gutters."

"That's a man's job! Let yer bruthah do that!" she cried.

This was the woman whose Nativity scene had been blown up by my sister and her idiot headbanger friends. She hadn't spoken to Joy since. Now not only was she speaking to me, she seemed inordinantly concerned for my safety. She warbled hysterically, "No Joy, leave that for Teddy to do! You've gonna get hurt!"

"Hey, I can do any job he can! Haven't you heard?" Maybe the sun had gotten to my brain, or maybe I was just irritated at this old busy-body telling me what a girl could and couldn't do, but suddenly I was performing a jerky go-go dance and singing loudly, "The sisterrrrs are doin' it for themselves! Standin' on our own two feet, and ringin' our own bells!"

"For God's sake, STOP THAT!" she shrieked, alarmed at my dancing so close to the roof's edge. That crazy Joy Farranino was being crazy again...

A lot of people ask me about the forced aspect of this popular fetish. Of course 99% of the time its not really forced. It isn’t like I have a loaded gun to their head or anything. There are occasions where theoretically I could blackmail someone to do whatever I want but that’s not going to happen. The thing is, that although they do enjoy being dressed up most want it to be a very intense experience. Many also want it to be at the very least somewhat embarrassing if not completely humiliating. So I like to make it memorable for everyone involved.

Part 9 - This is the Sequel to Jason's Story.

Kelly helps her cousin Tom in his changed world.

In an astonishing scoop, Somer reveals the truth regarding Barack Obama’s birth certificate. There are no pictures of her underwear this time. Instead, a story that’s amazingly on-topic.

The Surreal Obama Birth Conspiracy

By Somer Knight