Another BigCloset TopShelf story.

Joanie's time travels to Whateley's past yield an unexpected bonus. Joanie and Pinky's bond grows, Joanie takes a free boat ride and a not so pleasant swim. The Ultra-X-Amine caper hits close to home.

Andy Warhol said,"In the future, everyone will be famous for 15 minutes." What if your 15 minutes came late in life, and fame decided to never let you go? Could you survive the circus your life would become?

Timeout 3-Continuous play: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction

This is fan fiction for the Whateley Academy series. It may or may not match the timeline, characters, and continuity, but since it's fan fiction, who cares? To see the canon Whateley Stories, check out either Sapphire's Place,

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

Another chapter in part three of my TG/sci-fi/superhero/magic and the kitchen sink epic. I’m much better now than when I started this, honest, though comma useage still confuses me; ask Itinerant. Your constructive criticism and advice always helps. This is an exercise in the joys of creativity and in appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe. Any violations of copyright, trade mark or use of real people or incidents are purely for purposes of humor or parody and done solely for the free enjoyment of the reading public. All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005-2006. NO! Bad Kitty, put the nice lettercarrier down.

Adult content advisory: this chapter deals with gratuitous sexual topics and may not be suitable for younger readers but if you’ve read my stuff you know it’s not graphic and is often silly but you were warned.

Timeout 3

By John from Wauwatosa
Text Re-vivification by Itinerant
Thanks to Janet Nolan for proofing

Chapter 4- The Inverters pt3, The Big Chill pt 4, What’s New PussyCat? Oops I Did It Again

Whateley Academy Dunwich NH, March 31- April 7, 2007

March 31, 2007

I felt guilty not being around Tom and Tina much their first few days on campus. I did eat breakfast with them every morning, and tried to interest them in taking a morning run with me or Pinky or me, but they weren’t very athletic. Pinky and I did get them to start a regular program of run walks — you know, run, then walk, then run, and so on — and to take up some sort of physical activity to be better prepared for Survival 101, or self-defense for dummies, or Survival Class -- take your pick. The students had even less kind names for it, many of them vulgar, but I understood the purpose behind it.

Mr. Anderson would have a field day with the twins if they weren’t careful, and I did not relish their being picked on. Technically, I could audit that class. My Security training doesn’t preclude it and I might need to substitute teach it someday. I knew what he looked like, as Lex, Pinky, and Tina all had pointed him out at various times, but we had not met. I understood his method of teaching, and though effective, I thought it barbaric and would not sit idly by if he abused it. Sometimes the designated victim becomes tougher and self-reliant, sometimes it scars them.

~~We will see. As he’s fond of telling his class, ‘lack of information can be fatal.’ Well, it will be for him, if he’s not careful.~~

If there is one thing I hated about school, it was bullies.

Their medical and powers evaluations were progressing quickly, along with their psychiatric profiles. As their mentor, I was kept informed, but some things remained under the doctor/patient seal. I don’t like being kept in the dark, but they assured me anything that was a risk to my new friends would be passed on. As a precaution, Security provided them with panic buttons built into watches, and if certain buttons were not pushed in a particular order at regular intervals, it became a radio distress beacon much like those aircraft carry. It still bothered me. Their tormentor or tormentors were at large and had not been caught, despite the FBI's confident words. For my own peace of mind, I introduced them to Tina and Chris Anderson and Steel Lotus. The girls would check-in on Tom and Tina regularly to ensure all was well. Tina meeting Tina was confusing but fun, I think Ms. Anderson will make a good friend/older sister to Ms. Smith. As to Tom, I don’t know many boys on campus -- I think I intimidate them. But he thought Chris was hot. Then again, I do, too. I wish we knew what happened to their parents. Either way, it’s the not knowing that hurts most.

* * * *

April 01, 2007, the rooftop of Siegel Hall

“Ms. Brown, today we enter the next phase of testing, precision and duration.”

“Dr. Korolev, please call me Joan or Joanie, I keep expecting to see my mother standing next to me when you say Ms. Brown.”

“Very well, Joan. Today I want you to travel back 115 years, walk around, observe and take notes, shoot photos and take some samples. Remember to take great care with anything biologically active. We’ve provided sanitary packaging to carry out your own waste. Less chance of disturbing the timeline.”

“By waste you mean all waste, human as well?” ~ ewh! ~ “I have to carry out my own pee and …?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“That brings pack-in-pack-out to a new level. If the South Pole station can do it, I suppose I can,” I replied.

“That’s the spirit. I see you understand the necessity of these precautions. As long as you follow them, I’m confident all will be well.”

I didn’t think Korolev was as confident as he claimed. I made a sudden move, peeked behind him and confirmed my suspicion.

“Doctor, why are your fingers crossed?” He blushed.

~~My, he looks almost cute when he … ~~

“Please be careful. You remind me of my late wife.”

~~ The man has the hots for me, lovely. Then why does that not upset me? He is good looking for an older man and… No! This is not a good time but still … ~~

“Excuse me, I need to use the ladies room, I won’t be long, say 15, ah, make that 30 minutes,” I said.

Korolev stared then smiled knowingly.

~~He knows, the dirty old man. Maybe that’s why we work together so well. ~~

I gave him a kiss and ran to the bathroom.

* * * *

“Now that you’ve decompressed, shall we begin?” asked Korolev.

“My pleasure, Doctor.”

“No, mine. I’m glad to see a pretty woman still finds me attractive, Joan.”

They recalibrated my sensors and I was off.

I traveled to shortly before I arrived on the rooftop with Mr. Lodgeman. I hurried down the stairs, and carefully walked onto the campus. I had excellent reproductions of period documents to “prove” who I was, though I hoped to never use them. The campus was beautiful, though barren by modern standards. Only a few buildings I was familiar with from Whateley of 2007 existed. Some of the buildings that were here now — in the past -- no longer existed. The familiar trees of my time were not there, or if they were, they were much smaller. The great forest near Whateley was as ancient and majestic as usual. I could see other areas near the future Academy that were cut over, yet in my time were in second growth forest and areas in trees that were fields in 2007. The smell of wood smoke and coal smoke was present, but faint.

I was careful to avoid interacting with people, but it couldn’t be entirely avoided.

“Miss, I don’t wish to seem forward, but may I ask what you’re doing here?” asked a tall, slender man in his late teens. Tall for the 1890’s, I was a good inch taller.

“I’m here to check out the school for my nephew; he’s considering attending. I’d like to attend college as well, perhaps a state normal school as I enjoy teaching, but all the ones I’ve visited discourage women. They keep telling me I’m better off having babies or some such nonsense. I want a family, but I want to better myself. What if my husband should die? Where would I be without a skill to fall back on?”

“You’re not one of those suffragettes, are you?”

“No, but I respect their beliefs. Society would be better off it we made full use of all our Ghod given talents. Some women aren’t meant to be mothers, why trap them in a role they’re unsuited for?”

~~I have to break this off soon, we’re attracting a crowd and I don’t like the way some of them are leering at me. Who do they think I am, some girl from a French postcard? Oh, come to think of it, I will be in 115 years. ~~

“Excuse me sir, I’ve taken too much of your valuable time. Good day.”

~~That was too close; I hope I haven’t messed up someone’s future romance, and thus those unborn or never meant to be born. If Vince Lombardi is born a girl, Green Bay will kill me. ~~

I behaved, and spent nearly a week exploring in and around the old Whateley and environs. I found quiet places to take care of my ”decompression” needs and kept my tension within tolerable limits while avoiding detection. Balling up a silk scarf and biting down on it muffled the sound effectively.

I’m learning to love time travel. It combines business and pleasure most delightfully. I tracked my “need,” and found it becoming more insistent the longer I stayed. A rough calculation showed I could stay this far back for several weeks, before I could no longer be effective as a researcher. I used a little known attic room in one of the oldest Whateley buildings several times for short naps.

On the last day of my “trip” I got to thinking if I could last longer with the “assistance” of a fellow time traveler. A more intense “decompression” might extend the intervals between the need for them. Eric sprang immediately to mind. It’s was less than two weeks after I’d professed my love to him, less than two months since the dance, and a bare seven months since we first met on Labor Day 2006. The thought of him filling my hot …

~~Oh Ghod, we have to get engaged or something. I’m obsessing over him. ~~

Am I so changed since I transformed? I could scarcely imagine myself with a man then, now it’s my fondest wish and with a particular man. Is it this body and pheromones -- specifically Williams-Johnson pheromones? I react some in the presence of good looking men. Okay, I react a lot. Those A-10 pilots had my nipples stiff and aching and my panties damp. But, it took time and a night of drinks and dancing. Governor Bob and Senator Joe get me hot-to-trot in no time, but Eric -- I’m practically dripping at the thought of him… Gees, I am and they’re bullets already and oh, ah … Excuse me, I need “therapy,” stat! Where are the fresh batteries?

I spent over a week in the area taking frequent photos and notes. I took great care not to be seen doing this and to document were they were taken. I camped in the dense forest that was now off limits to most at Whateley. Maybe it was my imagination, but I thought the forest sensed my presence somehow and tolerated it. It was as if the trees were sentient, “knew” I was from the future, and that I was friendly. Strange, why had I thought that?

April 03, 2007 the King Annex, Whateley

Korolev was pleased with the results of previous few days test, and decided we’ll go for broke tomorrow. That’s one of the wonders of time travel. I was gone nearly 8 days, but returned moments after I left. Korolev gave me a day off to recover and for his team to analyze my data. The “decompression” worked well, though it was inconvenient, but not unwelcome I must admit.

I’m glad we’re doing these tests now and not a couple weeks ago during my latest menstruation. How would I explain a tampon or pad to someone 115 years ago if I’d been discovered? Knowing me, I’d have run out of them at the most inopportune moment. Ghod, have we got it good nowadays, girls. Notice I did said good and not perfect. As I think of it, a few days earlier than that would have been worse -- can you say horny bitch on wheels? I’m not that bad, but it’s an excellent excuse to fall back on with the guys in security when I’m particularly moody, “Sorry, Guys, it’s the PMS talking.” The fools fall for it all the time.

Having a Little Annie Fanny caricature of a woman’s figure helps me. Once their eyes lock onto my “headlights,” my victims are doomed. I swore I’d never use my good looks to an unfair advantage, but I lied. Most know when I’m doing it, but the guys, and a surprisingly large percentage of the gals, don’t mind. I think they enjoy the show. I’m both relieved and mildly disappointed that so few of the staff or students have hit on me. I’m not exactly ugly. Three reasons I can think of: I’m too famous, I’m one of Ms. Carson’s pet projects, and I’m on semi-friendly terms with the Anti-Christ, Ms. Hartford. She would scare off just about anyone from disturbing me. She scares me. I can’t figure her out. I think she does what is best for her first, then Whateley, and then, begrudgingly, the students. I have to admit she’s competent.

She surprised me yesterday by showing up at the King Annex at the start of another of my open house/practice sessions for my band. We were waiting to audition a percussionist. I was practicing my guitar as Pinky sang along. Pinky is fast becoming an accomplished backing vocalist, and I suspect will be a fine lead singer someday. Ms. Hartford walked in, which shocked me, she rarely conducted business outside of Administration unless it was to hand deliver a letter of expulsion or some other happy news to a student.

“Ms. Brown, may I have a moment?”

~~What now? My dad’s dead, and she’s here to dance gleefully? I’m game; bring it on but first …~~

“Please, call me Joanie or Joan if you must. We know each other too well to be that formal.”

“Very well, Joanie,” ~~Whoa, she must want a big favor. ~~ “I’m attending an emergency computer security conference at the University of Illinois Supercomputing Center, and am unable to care for my niece during the Easter weekend.”

“No luck patching things up with Pinkie’s Mom?”

I looked at them both. Pinkie was sad, something she rarely was nowadays, especially in her female form. Ms. Hartford had that look of utter disdain she reserved for fools and idiots, and it wasn’t aimed at anyone present.

“She still hates mutants -- even her child? I’m so sorry. Sure, Ms. Hartford; I love to take care of Pinkie. I am scheduled to fly to Wisconsin on Good Friday, then drive to Iowa to visit friends. I should be back by Monday at the latest. Is that alright?”

~~I’ll have to visit her Mom. This is ridiculous. What is she, just a baby machine?~~

I turned to Pinky. “I’d love to have you along, girl. You’d get to see Gin, and Dari again, and the rest of MSG. The Johnson family in Iowa is fun, too, and it’s a private charter -- first class all the way. I could give you a lift, Ms. Hartford, it’s not much of a diversion.”

Ms. Hartford almost smiled. I think I’d surprised her.

“I have a DOD plane arranged through DARPA — ah, Miss Nikki Reilly’s dad, but thank you for offering.”

“Pity, it’s a Gulf Stream II, real classy. What you say, Pinky, want to bum around with Ms. Flakey?”

“Please, Aunty?”

“You will keep her safe?”

“Absolutely. I can always do a Boston on any troublemakers and my MSG pals are far more vindictive than I.”

I made a menacing grimace, then I giggled. Ms. Hartford gave me a knowing look. My use of “Boston” meant several things and she knew them all: what I did to my would-be rapist, what I did to the bastards who raped Pinky, and what the police did to my father’s mugger. I hear Pinky’s doctor was severely beaten in jail and had to be moved to solitary for his protection, poor man. As to the mugger, he’s safe in a high security cell, they won’t tell me where. Afraid I’ll go ballistic on him.

“Mind what Joanie tells you, Pinky, and your studies had better be up to date.”

That’s only the second time I ever saw Ms. Hartford blush, when Pinky ran over and hugged her. She may be a class “A“ bitch most of the time, but family means something to her.

* * * *

April 03, 2007

“Joanie, this is the big one. Please no snickers.”

~~Damn him that was my line!~~

“I want you to go back to the continental ice sheet, explore, take photos and some limited, biologically safe samples, then come back in one piece,” said Korolev.

“I’m a trouble magnet then?”

“Be careful, we, I’d miss you. You’re like a favorite niece, dear.”

~~I’m his wife, now his niece? My, he’s charming, or trying to get in my panties.~~

I gave him a bear hug and kiss. His assistants looked surprised. I gave them each one too.

“You’ve got it Sergei. Here I go.”

* * * *

I time bounced back to that same spot, but at a slightly different moment in time to avoid myself. I had glacier goggles, skis, crampons, climbing gear, and a sonar device to warn of crevasses. After several hours I was off the ice sheet, and cautiously negotiating the outwash plain. I found a high, dry spot for my camp and set up the heat and motion sensors to warn of anyone or anything approaching. I explored the area taking many photos and small samples of the sediments, rock, and water.

I was careful around anything living or biologically active to protect the timeline. I ate with great care. I was to make no fires except in dire emergency. All my meals were self heating and self contained, even the water. Total pack-in-pack-out. The human waste part was bothersome, but critical. The everyday healthy bacteria and other micro organisms my body harbored could be devastating to the people of this distant time. Though the risk was remote, I had to treat myself like a plague carrier.

I found a “therapy” session to “decompress” every few hours kept me in control, though I was constantly aroused. This was a fun trip for me, more so than the early Whateley one. I shot a few photos of myself for Korolev to analyze and I sure had that “glow” in all of them. If I can project that into my photo sessions with the magazine, it will be the top seller of all time.

~~This is better than hot chocolate and a whirlpool tub.~~ I thought at the time.

The next morning I had a long “therapy” session, then dressed and packed up camp. I had calculated the time until I would be incapacitated by my arousal, so I planned on no more than a few additional hours of exploration before returning to my transport site. A quick “therapy” session just prior to climbing up the ice sheet would prevent me from being “stricken” while ascending -- dangerous if it occurred.

“This place is so bleak. To think in a few thousand years this will be lush with vegetation,” I said to the desolation.

I explored a while longer, when I spotted human footprints in the soft silts of the outwash plain. I scanned with my infrared enhanced binoculars. It was clear except for a large cooling object, and two smaller hot ones. Several animals I guessed from the blurry distant objects. Against my better judgment, I walked to it, though it took some time. It was a human kill, an adult smilodon — a short-tailed saber-toothed cat — with a Clovis point spearhead embedded in its flank. It was near death, but remained dangerous. I could, and should, do nothing, despite how much its suffering disturbed me. Then I saw them -- her cubs. The mother must have fought off her attacker, and fled with her offspring until the wound overcame her. I approached warily. She was not breathing -- death had claimed her. She was near the unstable edge of the terminal moraine. I knew she’d be soon buried under the ice and sediments along with her starving, mewing kittens. They huddled tight to her fading warmth, hissing as I neared.

“Ghod forgive me.” I cried, kneeling down and scooping up the wet, shivering cats, maybe five or ten pounds each.

They tried to claw me and twist free, but were weak and exhausted. I retreated to a safe distance from the moraine, dried them off and rigged a neck sling to keep them warm, dry, and safe. I offered them some of the condensed milk I carried in a back packer’s bottle for my coffee. They soon licked it eagerly from my fingertips and started to purr. The warmth of my body, the vibrations of my heart, and my breathing combined with the milk to revive them. I closed my coat around them, hefted my backpack, and climbed to my transit point. It was difficult and I stopped several times to offer them more milk. Their loud purrs encouraged me. Several hours later I shot back to 2007, arriving the same day I’d left. I was exhausted, glowing, and ready to screw a grizzly bear, but I held on. I could wait, they could not. Korolev looked at my telemetry, then me, and appeared concerned.

“You need to decompress Joanie, the instrumentation shows you’re flushed, your heart is racing, you’re breathing fast and shallow, and … What? I’m reading two additional, faint, fast heartbeats. What did you do?”

“Nothing major, Sergei. You’re all still here. Get me to Whateley at once; my passengers need medical attention.”

I gave them the “don’t fuck with me or else” look, and we drove to the academy, my coat moving occasionally.

“You sure you don’t want us to stop Joanie? You look, um… in distress,” asked one of Korolev’s assistants.

“Just drive, I’m… Ooh that tickled. Not there kitty, ooh please no! Ah, oooh, yeah, do that again little one.”

I don’t know how they kept the truck on the road with me like that. I hurried into medical, worried for the kittens and frantic for relief.

“Dr. Pollard,” I moaned, “Who here knows the big cats, like lions, and cheetahs?” I was in a bad way, and it felt fantastic.

“Dr. Polland has experience. His parents were zoo keepers.”

“Get him at once,” I demanded, well. More moaned.

~~He has experience, I need experience. Maybe a threesome with these experienced, virile doctors would help.~~ I forced myself to stay focused.

“Why?” Pollard asked.

I opened my coat and my friends mewed in protest. My nipples' protest was more visual.

“What are they?”

I nearly ripped off my blouse and said. “My aching breasts, Einstein. Strip, NOW!” But they needed my help, and I’d made a silent promise to their mother.

“Baby smilodons. Their mother died, and they were about to be buried by the glacier. I couldn’t just leave them to die!”

That horrid thought took the edge off my condition, but I wouldn’t last much longer.

Dr. Polland came in, examined them, and took samples to test for parasites and disease. I examined him closely.

~~Dr. Polland is surprisingly fit for his age and profession and those large, caring hands. What is it they say about men with big hands? Oooooh! What? Not now, Joanie.~~

I shifted my concentration to the kittens, and held on. After some quick research by Dr. Polland, we took a calculated risk and vaccinated them, using vaccines intended for the big cats, and domestic cats where there were none. Even partial protection would help them fight off modern germs. I helped hold them while Dr. Polland administered the vaccinations. They were so well behaved, just a few hisses, not a claw mark or bite .

~~Brave kitties.~~

Medical promised not to harm them or experiment on them, but I didn’t trust the student lab techs. After an hour or so and no signs of an allergic reaction to the vaccinations I took them to my linen closet, locked the door and finally got relief.

“Thank You Ghod!”

~~I think the entire dorm heard me.~~

“You can come out from under the bed, little ones.”

It was now late afternoon. I rushed to Operations and got a sack of Oil Zorb, the predecessor to cat litter, and a clean steel parts washing pan. From the school store, I bought tennis balls and other items suitable as toys. A stiff bristled hairbrush would do for grooming their fur. The Crystal Hall cafeteria supplied condensed milk, corn syrup, baby rice, pasteurized liquid eggs and Purina Lion Cub Chow. They have everything there.

~~I wonder who needs the Lion Cub Chow?~~

I hurried back to Poe and mixed up the ingredients for a large cat baby formula, thickening it with the eggs and baby rice. After some encouragement, they licked it eagerly. I moistened some Chow and put that out. They sniffed, then licked some of it, too. They were hungry -- a good sign. I lay on the floor, and watched as they groomed themselves and each other, licking me as well, then curling by my side and purring intensely. I rigged them a bed with a spare blanket, stripped, and fell into bed. I dreamed I was with Eric, and he …

“Oh! Eric, stop that, you’re driving me wild. I never dreamed you were so oral. Oh Ghod!” then I woke, just as it was getting to the good part.

The kittens had climbed onto my bed, and were clamped on and kneading my breasts expectantly. I extricated them gingerly.

~Ow, milk teeth!~

“Smart kitties, but those tittys are not in the dairy business yet. Cum’on George and Gracie, Mommy will feed you.” They needed names and those suited them, don’t ask me why. I put out some more of the formula, and moistened dry food. I checked my room carefully, but they’d kept it all down from yesterday. When they finished eating, I encouraged them to use the litter box. They caught on almost immediately; which was a relief. I heard a knock on the door, slipped on my robe and answered.

“Coming.“

It was Ms. Carson and Dr. Pollard. He must have told her. They did not look happy.

“Joanie, you know we don’t allow pets in the dorms and for good reasons.” I felt hurt and angry at Pollard’s betrayal and Carson’s words.

“If you’re here to kill them or make me take them back to die, I’m leaving Whateley. How could you?”

I started crying, and threw myself on the bed, remembering back when the vet put down my old, dying cat as I held the frail animal in my lap. That was a dozen years earlier, but I couldn’t help myself. I felt a hand turn my face; it was Ms. Carson.

“No, dear child, nothing so drastic, but you shouldn’t have.”

“What can I do? I couldn’t leave them.” I started bawling again.

~~Get a grip; this is embarrassing, they’re cats -- not my children. I think I’m their mother? ~~

“We’ll make an 'I didn’t see anything, what problem?' exception, but as they grow…” Ms. Carson said as she stroked my head like Mom … I had to get my emotions under control before I lost it. I thought fast.

“My friend, Pinky, is an empath -- so are some in Security. What if we train them as police dogs, big, fluffy, saber-toothed police dogs? They’re very intelligent. I’m also considering building, or buying, an off-campus home near Dr. Bellows. I could board them there when they’re not on duty. Please?”

Ms. Carson approached the cats and kneeled. They came over, sniffed her, rubbed their faces against her, and started purring -- or as much of a purr as big cats have. “Sucker,” they had to be thinking.

“They’re so precious!”

“Told you, Ms. Carson.”

“Okay, Joanie, you can keep them, provided you have suitable facilities for them before they get too big, and that you carry through with their training. I must be crazy.” I felt relieved and mischievous.

“It could be worse.”

“Worse?” asked Dr. Pollard.

“Baby Mastodons are just darling.”

“No!” they both said, and left my room.

* * * *

Good Friday, April 06, 2007

Accommodating such a diverse student body meant Whateley did its best to cater to the spiritual needs of its students. If you consider the avatars, a fair portion of the students are spirits. They were fair about it. If you were an agnostic you got just as many “religious” holidays off as the faithful. Spring Break was a biggie. It usually was the second week in March, though many students also took off Good Friday for the Easter holiday weekend. Technically, class was in session, but any excuse to cut class... The instructors knew this, so most either gave out assignments early in the week, or used Good Friday as an enrichment day. A few instructors were strict about it being a class day, but their students knew and acted accordingly; they ignored the instructor.

I signed excused absence slips for all of Pinky’s classes and hand delivered them to be certain. I wouldn’t have her grades suffer on my account. Ms. Hartford covered her ass as well and, just prior to our departure to the charter jet, we signed formal papers making me Pinky’s temporary legal guardian for the duration of the trip. Pinky was present for this.

“I’m so happy to be going with you, Auntie Joanie.”

“What did you call me?”

“Auntie Joanie, the papers make you my real, legal Auntie, don’t they?”

“If you keep calling me Auntie, I’ll scream, Pinky.”

“Okay, Auntie Joanie.”

~~Ms. Hartford had to have put her up to this.~~

“I’ll take good care of her, Auntie Amelia. Sorry. Hartford.” Ms. Hartford marked an imaginary point on the imaginary chalk score board for me.

* * * *

Pinky was eager to meet my MSG friends having met Dari and Gin at Whateley, and especially eager to meet my “boyfriend”, as if I wasn’t.

“Your boyfriend is how old, Joanie?”

“Fourteen, and if you tell anyone, including your Aunt Hartford, you die.”

Pinky was fully female again and reveling in it. She chose the most feminine and attractive clothing for the trip and was dripping with jewelry. It suited her personality; she was so outgoing now.

“Why no motorcycle, Joanie?” she asked during the early morning ride Mr. Lodgeman gave us to the airfield, while on his way to visit the Tanakas.

“It would be nearly impossible to get both of us and our luggage on my vintage cycle. My friends in Madison will meet us with my car and Red’s F250 pickup. We’re driving to Baraboo for lunch, and, if the weather's good, a hike at Devil’s Lake State Park. It’s part of the Ice Age National Scientific Preserve, sort of a national park. The quartzite cliffs remind me of the area around Whateley. You’ll love it; it’s a fun place. If the weather is bad, we can go to the Circus World Museum. It’s not far from the park in Baraboo. They have way over a hundred colorful circus wagons from the 19th and early 20th centuries and all sorts of costumes and memorabilia. If all else fails, we can go looking for former hippies near UW-Madison.” I giggled shamelessly.

“So it’s a history lesson as well, my Master.”

“Yes, my apprentice. Learn much must you.” So my Yoda sucks.

* * * *

We landed at Truax Field at ten am. The whole Gang of Four plus Dari was waiting. She spoke first.

“My Ghod, Joanie, is that Pinky? You said she was changed to her female form, you didn’t say she was a total babe.” Pinky giggled happily.

I whispered to Dari.

“Thanks, she needs a confidence boost.”

Dari whispered back.

“Who says I’m exaggerating? Pinky’s smoking hot.”

“Looking fine, girl. You’re giving my friend Joanie serious competition in the gorgeous department,” said Gin then she gave us both hugs and kisses.

~~Was that her tongue on my ear?~~

She stepped back then licked her lips.

“Gin, Pinky’s under age. If there’s any of that to be done, see one of the other MSG gals or me.” We all laughed nervously. “We’re all bisexual here, Pinky, just like you.”

“Ahem!” coughed Red.

“Okay, some of us are lesbian. I think, whatever our personal preference is, our heightened desire is because we’re all exemplars. That perfection of the body goes beyond just appearance. I think it does something to our sexuality. If you’re extremely fit and attractive, sex is more rewarding no matter with whom. You’re underage so we need to be careful and not exploit you, but when you’re older, call the girls up; they're real cuddly -- I know.”

Red blushed over her whole body, as did the rest of them to varying degrees. The Gang didn’t know, but Dari and I had fooled around some, and I considered her a cherished member of my circle of love interests. They had better make room for Eric in the center or I’d be disappointed. But I knew they’d respect my decision. Dari, Red, and Carrie were not to be outdone by Gin, and I was subject to a barrage of non-stop sensual hugs. I was ecstatic and my nipples were hot and hard.

~~I like these hugs, oh yes, yes, yes! What is Red doing with her, oh Ghod!~~

“Red, get your hand out of there. I’m saving that for Eric.”

“You’re serious, Joanie?” Red looked hurt. I broke up.
“You were having me on. Shame on you, Joanie.”

“You’re all on the exempt list -- you too, Pinky, if you want to -- but only when you’re legal. He knows about you and my history with these, my MSG special friends. But, I don’t want to hurt him. If we’re discreet, it's okay.”

“Eric sounds very mature,” said Carrie.

“In some ways, he’s older than I am.” Then I stuck out my tongue, and blew a raspberry.

We split up; Pinky sitting up front in my Focus with Gin in the back, the rest riding with Red in the crew cab. I told them to follow me to the ferry. We got off the Interstate at State Highway 60, drove into Lodi, and turned onto State 113 to the Merimac ferry.

“Why are we stopping here?” asked Pinky.

“Because Joanie is a cheapskate, and wants a free boat ride,” said Gin. “And if we drove much further without the boat at the landing, we’d get wet.”

“It’s not a boat; it’s a ferry, though it is free,” I said, then I pouted. “I’ve ridden on it since before I can remember, and that’s back to the Colsac I.” Pinky looked confused.

“It connects Columbia and Sauk Counties, thus Col-sac. The current ferry is the Colsac III,” said Gin.

“It's lots of fun, too. Please be in your seats, belted up, before the loading ramps drop. Okay?” I said.

We drove on the ferry, parked, and got out to enjoy the mild, April day. It was in the 50s F, and sunny, so we moved to the rail to get a better view during the five minute trip.

“This is Lake Wisconsin and that railway trestle is famous for pictures of the Circus Trains from the Milwaukee parade recreations. When I was I child, we used to tow our small speed boat to Decorah... beyond the railway on the north end of the lake, and ride to a clean sandbar. I had so much fun playing… Is something wrong with that woman?”

I pointed to a teenaged girl, Pinky’s age, maybe older. She moved strangely -- drunk or drugged? I saw a man in mirror sunglasses, and a plain suit, get out of a dark sedan -- the kind police use. He walked towards the girl as another man in similar garb got out the other side of the sedan and walked from a different direction towards her. They stared intently at her, mirrored glasses or no.

“Something’s wrong here, Red. Call for backup. I think the girl’s in trouble.”

“You got it, Joanie,” said Red.

I slowly moved towards the girl, Gin and Dari following, Carrie keeping Pinky safe. The two men closed on the girl.

“You’ll never catch me. I won’t go back, I’ll die first.” she shouted in a strained voice, as she backed tight to the rail. They ran at her, and she climbed clumsily over the rail and fell in the lake.

“Man overboard!” I shouted, grabbed a life ring, and jumped. “Damn, the water is cold!” I sputtered.

Then I swam stiffly to her. I’d managed to get my boots off before I jumped, but my clothes interfered with my swimming, and I was quickly numbing in the frigid waters. I caught her, and put her in a lifesaving carry I’d learned over 30 years earlier. I could feel the heat pouring off her.

“My Ghod what’s wrong with you… burnout!” I exclaimed as she struggled with me.

“Let me go. I won’t go back,” she said through chattering teeth.

“I’m not with them, dear. I’m here to help. If you could kick your legs some, I’d appreciate it. I’m getting numb, this water is so cold.”

~~You’re thinking why not time stop, dear d/j/w? How would we get on the ferry? And by the time I was close enough to time stop her, the ferry was too far away. I trusted my friends to do what was needed.~~

We swam toward the cable driven ferry which had reversed and was closing on us. It was hard to keep afloat, despite the life ring. A few minutes in the cold water and I was starting to weaken. My grip on the ring was slipping and I was shivering and getting sleepy. The girl was worse and was almost unconscious. There was a splash as a life ring was tossed beyond our location, and pulled to us. I grabbed for it and just managed to hook my leaden, free arm through the center, dunking our heads in the process. I felt us being pulled through the water, then warm hands lifting us onto the ferry. The girl was unconscious -- I was close to it. Hypothermia is a silent killer.

“Red, burnout.”

“What, Joanie?”

Red was blurry, I was feeling suddenly warm and calm, signs of severe hypothermia. I gathered all the energy I could, and awkwardly pointed at the girl.

“Burnout, mutant.” I don’t remember any more.

* * * *

I woke in the familiar confines of the Mutant Wing or State Paranormal and Mutant Unit at the University Hospital, University of Wisconsin-Madison, with Carrie and Pinky keeping watch.

“I have got to stop doing this.” I was tired, but felt okay. “How’s the girl?”

“You mean Wisconsin's newest mutant and third confirmed case of Ultra-X-Amine homolog exposure? Alive, and expected to recover consciousness at any moment. Her attempted suicide saved her. She was in the early stages of catastrophic burnout, but the cold water knocked her temperature down for a while. Thanks to your passing the warning on to Red, we kept dousing the young woman with lake water until some fellow passengers got ice from a bait shop at the ferry landing. We kept her on ice until the chopper arrived and then we iced her heavily for the flight to the Mutant Wing. You saved her life, Joanie,” said Carrie.

“What of the men she was fleeing?”

“I got them,” said Gin as she walked in the door. “Red and some fellow passengers were busy rescuing you, when the men pulled guns on us -- big mistake.”

Gin gave me that feral grin of hers, and her eyes actually glowed for a few seconds.

“Where are the bastards?”

~~What did Gin mean?~~

“One’s in intensive care, with a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the lower abdomen -- nasty. I TK’d him as he fired at you and the girl. He’s lucky -- I was aiming lower.”

“The other?” I asked.

“She’ll be free in, say, 15 years.”

“He couldn’t be in prison already, not even in a dictatorship can a case be … You said she; I'd swear they were both guys?”

~~Gin looks embarrassed, but proud?~~

“I tried out this transformation spell I’ve been learning -- surprised the hell out of me how well it worked. She’ll be released from Children’s Protective Services when she’s eighteen again. I turned him into a preschool girl. Damn, I’m good.”

“You should have seen it, Joanie. It was so Kewl.”

~~Another Kewl freak.~~ I thought.

“One moment he’s this big man about to shoot at Red and you, and the next he’s shrinking, screaming in pain, and terrified. I felt bad for him, Joanie, it was awful,” said Pinky.

“How is *she* then?” I asked.

“Still scared and confused, but oddly happy. I think he hated his old life. He was a brute; she is cute, and will be sexy cute once she grows up. I patterned her on myself. Genetically, she’s my clone. She may have my powers, too. I think the spell rewrites the subjects BIT, as well as their DNA. I thought it would only make him a pubescent girl at most, but she’s like I looked at four, down to the curly hair and button nose. Ghod, I was a cute girl, but now I’m the cutest.”

~~I’m suffering from 'a cute' toxicity.~~

“Another Humong magic and TK wielding sexpot. I’m emigrating to Australia.” I said.

Gin laughed.
“You’re okay, as silly as ever. Dr. Sara says the new mutant you saved should be up and about tomorrow. She’s starting to come to, as the burnout is over. Her family is in the hospital now waiting to see her, and you. Sara told them the woman who jumped after her is a Wisconsin mutant, and friend. They want to meet you.”

“She didn’t tell them who I am?”

“Didn’t have to. It got picked up on by the national news networks. You’re in the headlines again, girl,” said Carrie.

“Oops, I did it again,” I sang. -- I know recent songs, too, people. -- “What of the transformed man?”

“My family may take the former him in and raise her right. She is blood, now,” said Gin.

“Maybe that’s why the spell worked so well. He was unhappy as man because his BIT was female, but never expressed. He was a kind of transgendered, and the spell fixed that. The extreme age reduction was determined by his stuck BIT, she reverted back to a point where she could grow into a normal woman, albeit sexy, cute, and your twin.”

“You may be right, Joanie. Confusing, but right,” Gin replied.

* * * *

I was cleared to leave, so I showered, dressed in some clean clothes, did my makeup, and went to see the state's newest mutant. There were National Guard troops stationed a critical checkpoints at stairs, elevators, and the like. I recognized several as people I trained with. They were careful to check our ID, and congratulated me on my actions. Security was definitely improved since the kidnap attempt the other week. Red was both the head nurse for the girl and the head of the girl’s personal security detail.

“Red, is that bulge in your coat what I think it is?” I whispered.

“44 magnum snub nose, custom made for me by Dari. It has a 24 shot clip loaded with explosive rounds -- they could stop a small tank. After the kidnapping/assault on the hospital, we’re taking no chances.”

“Can your patient have visitors?”

“Sure, she just woke, and we paged her parents. She wants to see them. If Sara or the rest of the Gang didn’t tell you, the girl was a victim of that Ultra -X-Amine homolog again. We have no idea as to her powers yet, as we’ve not had a chance to question or test her, but she has those same emerald green eyes, and that reddish tint to her original blond hair’s roots.” Red led me to her bedside.

“Dear, are you up to a visitor?” Red asked softly.

“What’s her name?” I asked Red.

“Susan, or Suzy, Kenner.”

“Kenner? I’ve heard that name before,” I replied. The girl stirred.

“Are you the lady who saved me? I was pretty sick, but I remember your face and hair.”

“That was me. The names Joan, but you can call me Joanie. My nurse friend, Red, here, says they paged your Mom and Dad. They’re in the hospital now.”

”We were visiting relatives for Easter. Mom’s from Milwaukee originally. We’d come out to Madison to shop, because there’s some really crazy women’s stores in this pedestrian mall down near the big University. You should shop there some time. They say it’s where the singer Joanie got her best outfits. You look a lot like her, what’s your name again?”

“We’d like to know that too, dear lady. We couldn’t believe the press reports at first, but then the police took us here.“

~~That voice, I’ve heard that voice.~~

“Who’s that, Suzy?”

“That’s my mom. We were at this coffee shop when I felt sick. I went out to the car to lie down, and those men you saw followed me. I’d just got my license -- I turned sixteen last month -- so I drove away, but they kept following me. Somehow I ended up on the ferry where I jumped, and you ...“ she cried. I held her hand.

“No one will ever hurt you again, Suzy. You have my promise. Now introduce me to your parents.”

I still hadn’t turned around to see them. This was getting spooky; I knew that name and the mother’s voice was so familiar.

“What’s your mother's name? I’m Joanie.”

“I’m Christine, and this is my husband Greg,” The woman behind me said for her tired daughter. I turned partway around. “I’m so glad to … You are that singer! The news reports were right. Suzy, the lady who rescued you is the singer, Joanie. I tried to get in the business when I was young, but ended up an accountant with the FDIC.”

~~That voice; FDIC?~~ I turned the rest of the way.

“It’s a tough business, you should be proud …”

I saw her; she was older, but I remembered. I’d last seen her in 2005, singing at my mother’s funeral.

“Oh my Ghod!" I gasped, then I blacked out.

* * * *

To be continued
Thanks again to Itinerant and Janet Nolan for their invaluable assistance