Timeout 4, Reel to Real: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction, Chapter 12 part 8 of 8

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?

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)."

Your constructive criticism and advice continues to help. 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, 2005-201208.

Adult content advisory: this chapter contains situations and topics unsuitable for young minds or your sanity. There is also some adult content written by a middle-age juvenile mind. You were warned.

Timeout 4, chapter 12, part 8 of 8

By John from Wauwatosa
Pronouns protected by Itinerant
Homonymphone herding by Holly Hart
Um, that means they proofed it &/or otherwise saved you from me.

Chapter 12, Sitting Pretty, V a c a t i o n

Various locations in Iowa and Wisconsin, June 03-16, 2007

Wednesday June 13, 2007

Wednesday morning, we said our farewells, and Katie's dad drove us and our bikes to Elroy. Prairie Du Chien is about an hour's drive from Elroy, farther still from Sparta. Katie's dad saved us the better part of a forty mile bike ride though; as it was, this was as much as I dared impose on their hospitality. We could have ridden our bikes back on the trail, but that would have taken at least three hours with a favorable wind and left us sweaty and smelly. His kindness saved us nearly two and a half hours and sore butts. I suppose could have ridden off alone at dawn, recovered my truck and driven back. But would have taken a lot of time even given my physical abilities and would have left my charges without my protection for hours. THAT was a non-starter. I trusted these people but Mel and Eric were my friends and MY responsibility.

We unloaded our bikes and stuff and said goodbye. I offered to pay for his gas, but he said it was his duty and pleasure to help. Eric shook Katie's dad's hand, Mel gave him a hug and I ... let's say I kissed him and leave it at that. Eric tried to look angry but failed miserably. He knew me too well. Minutes later, we were loaded up and on our way.

* * * *

The drive to Prairie Du Chien was a quiet one, as we were worn out from the day before. We stopped a couple times to stretch our legs and snap a few photos. We soon were at the tourism center, where we were directed to park by a friendly State Patrol officer. We were escorted to the coordinator of the event who explained what would happen and our roles in all of it.

The ceremony for *my* heroism was gratifyingly brief. I had to pose for photos, but many were with Mel and her family, which I enjoyed. It wasn't like I was a novice when it came to being photographed, so I went with the flow. I hadn't noticed Sara and Joe slip away, while the photographers snapped away.

"Here, you’ll need this,” Carrie said and handed me a bouquet of flowers.

"Carrie, what are …Red, Gin, Dairy Maid, Glacier Girl…” I noticed all the MSG regulars were there: the guys in suits, the gals in dresses. "What the hell is going on? I can understand Gin, Red and Carrie, as we were all here when it happened but the rest of you? And for that matter who's minding the fort back in Madison?” Glacier Girl was the heaviest hitter of all the Wisconsin mutants, not to mention the hottest, excepting me... maybe. I mean this girl WAS America's Dairyland.

-- Giggle --

Don’t worry, the Chicago Mutant Society -- yeah, I know the name sucks -- are filling in for us. None of us wanted to miss Sara's wedding.”

"Wedding?!” Carrie just smiled.

"We moved it up so you could attend. You think we'd get married without the person behind it being there? Now close your gaping maw and get with it.” Sara replied as she walked up in an antique lace gown altered to a very daring fit. *I* wanted to marry this goddess.

Her daughter Carrie was equally impressed at how well her mom *cleaned-up*. "Mom, you look ...”

"Good enough to eat. I agree, Carrie, dear."

"Dump Joe, and marry me, Sara. Think of the fun! We can both be the younger woman or is that the other woman?” Well Carrie and Sara started it, and I have a reputation to uphold.

"Joanie!” Carrie scolded while an Amazon glared at me, menacingly.

"Sorry, Red.”

‘You’re forgiven, now give me a kiss.”

"What about Eric?” I pouted,

"I’ll make an exception; he can join in.”

Poor Eric blushed, while Mel snickered. I gave Red a solid, lip-locking scorcher and repeated the same with all the MSG women. I felt more than one naughty hand grab my tush as we embraced; I rather enjoyed it.

"That was fun! Now, everybody be nice to my Iowa friends, and hands off Eric, he’s taken.”

The effect of that declaration was Eric getting kissed mercilessly by some of the hottest babes I had ever met, except for the two Playboy models — three, counting Ms. Carson and, well, me. Okay, make that a qualified four. Eric walked away a very happy young man, emphasis on MAN... WOOF!

The gals treated Mel like an equal and asked her what she thought of their outfits, boys and the like. It did her confidence wonders.

"Mel, Joanie follow me. We need to get you made up,” Carrie said, and we were dragged off by the girls to have our faces painted, flowers pinned in our hair and get generally spruced up. In minutes, we were ready. Mel looked far older, like a girl at her sweet sixteen party, and I looked pretty good too. There was something that bothered me, though. I couldn't quite remember what.

"But I wanted to get you a wedding gift!” I finally remembered. Hey, I'm not entirely blonde!

"You got us the best gift of all, you got us together.” Sara said softly, giving my hand a squeeze. "I'd give you a kiss, but we'd ruin our makeup."

"And you saved my granddaughter; what better gift is there than life?” Joe said as he hugged me from behind.

* * * *

The wedding was mostly traditional, but brief. The parts some considered sexist were removed, but the power of the words remained undiminished. The minister barely got past 'I pronounce you ...' when she flung back her veil. Joe and Sara kissed -- a long, deep, passionate orgasm of a kiss. It got my juices flowing, it was so hot. Mel was grinning; Eric was blushing and looking my way furtively. ~~He's fantasizing what it will be like when we ... Oh lovely, my *headlights* just popped... Thank ghod I slipped in a panty liner today, could have been much worse. Eric seems in a similar fix, my poor boy ... oh my, my poor man, man oh man!~~

"This is not the time or place for *that* you, you, Bohemians! There are impressionable children here." That got some laughs.

"You're only complaining because it's not you that's being kissed," Carrie whispered.

"Damn straight, Skippy."

I settled down and reflected on my feelings.

~~Why does Eric have to look so *finger-lickin’* good?* I swear somebody upstairs is doing this to me deliberately, making me all hot and bothered for a piece of forbidden fruit. It's probably Karmic retribution for having not fathered any children. Seems I’m expected to make up for it as a mother. At this rate I’ll be a mother in ... nine months, ten minutes -- five if I can get Eric's pants off fast enough.... ~~ Senator Joe woke me out of my daydreams.

"Everybody, gather 'round, we have an announcement. Most of you know my Sara and I are expecting a girl. What you don’t know is her name. Carrie, Babs, your new sister will be Caroline Joanna or Carrie-Jo for short.”

"For me and Joanie?” Carrie asked. Sara nodded. I blushed.

"Joe, before we forget, her twin will be Barbara Rose."

--Thwump ! --

"I'd never seen that many people faint in my life, Sara." I moved to help Carrie back to her feet. ~~Hey I'm made of sterner stuff! If Sara wants to name her child for me, so be it... For me? ...~~ Something was bothering me though, .. it was right on the tip of my mind.

"Rose is to honor your mother, Joanie."

-- Thump! --
That was it.

* * * *

Joe and Sara had an informal reception at a nearby family restaurant. The grass and mud stains on my dress were hardly noticeable. You'd think they'd be much worse after leaving that ass print in the lawn.

"I've never seen anyone drop like that."

"Hush, Babs."

"I mean you collapsed like a marionette with its strings cut."

"Babs!"

"You made this high-pitched 'Eeep!' and 'foom!' down you went. I almost wet myself, it was soooo funny. Wanna see the vid we uploaded to the web? "

"Aaaaaaaaaah!"

* * * *

The reception dinner was a great success, as I got to catch up with my Madison friends. We kept it informal, though we did have a couple of the obligatory toasts.

"A toast.” We all raised our glasses. "Here’s to my Dad ... my Mom,” Sara blushed at Babs' kindness, "and my little sisters to be. May they always have a roof over their heads, food on the table and love in their hearts.” It was a William’s family tradition at weddings, some variant on an old Irish toast, and Joe fought back tears on hearing it.

Before you go all ballistic at minors and a pregnant woman imbibing -- um, drinking alcoholic beverages --, you can’t get very drunk on ginger ale poured over ice. The restaurant was very accommodating and pushed back a few tables so we might dance. Joe and Sara were all over each other, as they danced.

"Dad, Mom, get a room!” Babs exclaimed and giggled. This coming from a very pregnant woman who moments before was inspecting her husband’s tonsils with her tongue. That *I* restrained myself and did not shout out "Too late!" proves I have matured and no longer have a teenager’s flippant approach to life.

... No, honest, I do. What? I am not an emotion driven child, and you take that back! I am NOT an oversexed blonde bimbo ... BITCH! ... Oh crap, you made me cry; now I've ruined my makeup.

Oh, right. Us kids danced a little ... make that a lot. Mel had fun dancing with my MSG friends, and so did I. Eric was a gentleman and danced with all of us, but he danced the slow ones with me. Well I did let each of my *closest* MSG gals each have one slow dance with him. I wanted to show him off. By the end of the reception, several hours later, I was well fed, happy and desperate to inspect Eric’s tonsils and other more interesting parts of his body. I imagined him ... well I ... he ... ~~Oooh that was sooo dirty, Eric. Let's do it again ... ~~

Fortunately, Joe and Sara had a cure for that.

"Water-park!”

"Humma?” ~~I was having this delicious daydream, and Senator Geezer has to spoil it. What was it we were doing? Ah yes! Strip Twister, Oooh!~~

"We’re taking everyone to a water-park. It will be fun, and Sara is not so far along she can't enjoy it. My dear daughter can float in one of the quieter pools and rest her aching legs....”

That sold it. The thought of temporarily ignoring all the extra weight of the twins had Babs excited. The thought of certain people in skimpy, wet, clinging bathing suits had Eric and me excited. Mel was -- what else -- excited. We piled into Joe’s limo, several MSG vehicles including Carrie's PT Cruiser, and my crew cab, and were off to the Dells; that’s Wisconsin Dells for you non—Midwesterners.

* * * *

We checked into a large upscale motel for the night -- the Senator’s treat -- then drove to a nearby water park. The kids and my MSG pals took to the slides and wave pools with a vengeance; Babs and the rest found a quieter area to float and relax.

"Sure you don’t want to do at least one, Babs, Sara, ... guys?”

"You young-’uns have fun while us old geezers relax, ah-yup!” I'd forgot Dr. Sara was empathic/telepathic. ~~~If she *heard* that then she knows ... Oh my Ghod!~~

Dr. Sara pulled me aside. "Go have fun, Joanie. And don't worry so much, your *thoughts* are quite normal -- practically plain vanilla. You should listen in on some of my fantasies about Joe. You are positively straight-laced by comparison. As to your past *relations* with Carrie and the other gals of MSG ...You were all legal adults; what you did with each other was no one's business but yours." She finished with a hug so warm I almost cried.

Did I ever tell you dear d/j/whatever I love Sara like she was my mother?

Red, Carrie and the rest of MSG split their time between Sara, Babs and me. Babs and her soon-to-be-borns were a powerful attraction. I must admit moments of envy over Bab’s increasingly ungainly state. Sara also fielded a lot of questions about her current pregnancy. As we all were women in or entering our best childbearing years, the pull of their pregnancies was strong.

* * * *
With my energetic pals from MSG, Mel and Eric and loads of happy tourists mixing with the water slides and other attractions, the excitement was contagious. If you’ve seen Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure and the scene with Napoleon at the water park, you have a good idea. I was leaping into the tubes, screaming my head off and having a great time. We attracted quite a crowd, too; let's face it, we looked hot, and the guys were no slouches either. Mel had her share of admirers as well. As for me, I was having a blast. My inner everybodies were all flying high with Ms Teenage Blonde taking front and center.

I launched myself, feet first, into the tallest and fastest of the tubes. I shot out the end and crashed into the pool with a great splash. The water felt great, I was invigorated, giggling with mirth and jiggling all over the place.

~~Jiggling?~~

I turned and parts of me, two spectacularly matching parts of me, lagged behind for a moment then surged ahead. They wobbled to a stop. I looked down.

~~Oh, oh!~~

"Joanie, when did you lose your ... t-top?” Eric stuttered the obvious despite the shit-eating grin on his face and his eyes glued to ...

"Eric!” I covered up with my arms, a futile gesture with my *girls*. If anything, it brought more attention to my plight.

His eyes locked on mine. "I’m sorry, but you're so beautiful.” He was embarrassed, his eyes broke from mine then he looked away; I was afraid I'd hurt his feelings. Without warning Eric lunged at me, half knocking me over. I never expected him to do this.

"Eric!” I was shocked, a little angry, and so hot for him I fantasized him ripping of our suits and doing it here and now. Part of me was disappointed we hadn't, um ... you know. My body was more than willing; it knew what it wanted. My mind overruled my instinct -- damned spoilsport.

"I spotted something behind you. I think you may want this." He put my bikini top into my hands. I moved my arms behind me to slip my top back on. Meanwhile parts of my bare flesh were touching parts of his bare flesh that were not supposed to touch until he was eighteen. My mind was screaming *NO!* My body was screaming *NOW!* Talk about your mixed emotions!

I quickly slipped it on and tied it as best I could.

"Thank you, kind sir,” I backed away and curtsied like in a film about the time of chivalry.

"Mel?”

"Yes?”

"Can you tie this better?”

"Sure, but I think Eric preferred it ... looser?”

"Mel!”

They came *that* close to kicking us out for excessive splashing and horseplay. And I did not pull his trunks off; get your minds out of the gutters, folks ... they were on too tight, damn it!

* * * *

Unfortunately, the fun had to end. The Senator had a message for me when we gpt back to the motel.. "My friend Judge Juday called. Pamela's lawyers want a meeting. We need to be in Boston, Saturday morning, to meet with her mother."

"Is this good news? Does she want to reconcile with Pinky or at least try?"

"I don't know, but the judge said they wanted to get this over. Whatever her mother's intentions, at least the uncertainty will be over." He saw the expression on my face and smiled. "You care for Pinky that much?"

"Like she was my sister or even my own child. If her mom is using this to hurt her, I don't know if I can restrain myself!"

"You'll behave. You're a good person, if a bit high maintenance."

"High maintenance!?"

"Hon, your spending on footwear could finance a small country."

"Botswana?"

"Japan."

When we stopped laughing, I found I was in his arms, soaking his suit with happy tears.

"Better now?"

"Some, but telling Pinky this won't be fun."

"Sara is doing that, as we speak; I figured it would be hard for you. Don't worry, I asked Ms Carson to have Pinky's friends and her aunt standing by in case she reacts badly. They won't let her be alone until we get there.

"I'll tell you this, whatever the outcome, you have made a difference with her. If we had never met before, if all that you have done for my family had not happened, I would respect you for what you have done for Miss Conner as a friend, and I don't mean helping catch her abusers. You have turned a wounded soul into a fine young woman. That by itself is admirable. And here's a heads-up, you are invited to be present when my Sara gives birth. She wants to tell you herself, but I wanted to make it known I approve. With you, Carrie, and Babs at her side, I know she will feel safe."

"You're not going to be there?"

"I will be, even if the Senate is in session. I have my jet, so it's not a problem."

"With four of us, not counting Sara and the medical people, the delivery room will be crowded."

"Yeah."

"You dirty old man! I can see you're smiling, thinking about all those hot babes brushing up against you," I smiled, then broke-up.

* * * *

I asked my friends what they wanted to do, as we only had Thursday and part of Friday left.

"Surprise me."

"Anything you want, Joanie, will be great."

Mel and Eric knew me too well.

"All right then, a quick trip up north to a couple of my favorite places. Get to sleep early and be packed; I want to go at dawn, if possible, and that's around five in the morning now."

* * * *

Thursday June 14, 2007

They were up and dressed before I was, and they had our bags packed and ready to go when they woke me, subtly -- as subtle as a Mack Truck. One moment, I'm happily dreaming, and the next my covers are gone, the lights are all on and ..."Aieeeee!"

Where they got the crushed ice from I haven't a clue. The motel ice machines produced these hollow cylinders. I was furious and impressed.

I was showered and dressed in fifteen minutes, which, with my hair, is almost recklessly fast, but then they both helped. That Eric could have seen me naked and did not take advantage of it -- he was a total gentleman throughout. Let's say my already considerable respect for him skyrocketed that morning. He helped towel me dry and not once did he try anything untoward, bless him. My appreciation of Mel 's maturity, organizational skills, and sense of style took a huge jump as well. I looked damned good, if I may say so myself, and it was all their doing. Her outfit even coordinated with mine. We looked like sisters, which someday her brother might make true. Regrettably, that would require him marrying me, and all that disgusting making out and sex stuff, but I was willing to make the sacrifices. We checked out and were on the road before five AM. I later learned Mel organized the whole *wake-up* routine, which impressed me even more. Still haven't figured out the crushed ice, how did she do it? Now that I think back on it, I don't recall Eric in the room when I first woke... The little minx did it all on her own?

* * * *

We shot up Wisconsin 11 to Roche a Cree State Park and climbed the 303, 306, 305? There were a hell of a lot of steps, up the CCC staircase to the top of the butte. We spent some time enjoying the view, taking pictures and acting silly.

"This would be a great place for you to get married; it's so pretty."

"Yeah, but the bouquet toss could be lethal." We had to hold Mel up, she laughed so hard.

* * * *

We zigzagged via state and county highways to near Ponitowski and that tiny park off of Meridian Road.

"Why did we stop here?"

"Joanie's showing us where she was born, duh!"

The lights came on in Eric's head. Hey, he's bright; it's just his sister is a walking Joanie encyclopedia. You know those dead tree things they had before Wiki and Google?

"This is where I first felt the effects of my mutation; you could call this a homecoming. What happened here led eventually to my being in Prairie Du Chien, and you know the rest. My past ended here. It's time to move on, don't you think?"

We had a brief snack, took some pictures and drove away -- quite anticlimactic. Someday, I might come back and do the time travel thing, discreetly disguised of course. Something special happened here to change me, but what? Maybe I'll never know.

We drove west to Cornell, named for the same man who endowed the famous university, and stopped to see the giant pulpwood stacker, now long retired from use.

"Joanie, do you have something on your mind?"

"What do you mean, Mel?"

"You're staring at that huge crane thing; it looks a little like a giant's ..."

"Ghods!"

"Joanie, what's wro ... Oh!"

"Well *I* think it's romantic. Now kiss each other, and get it out of your systems."

How we'll ever last until he's eighteen, I haven't a clue.

* * * *

We stopped at the visitor's center for the Eau Claire segment of the Ice-Age National Reserve -- a joint National Parks/Wisconsin DNR project -- that features various rare or important remnants of the most recent ice-age. We checked out the displays, saw the film and took a short hike to stretch our legs and rest our butts. Plus, if you are physically exhausted, you don't feel like sex. I needed to be exhausted, bad.

We turned west and south, with Des Moines and Terrace Hill our destination. We crossed at Alma, after a quick look at the Mississippi River from atop the 400 foot bluffs. I'd liked to have hiked down and back from the river town; they have this great footpath, but we didn't have the time. We found a motel near the former Amana Colony in northeast Iowa then spent the early evening wandering the shops in Amana. We ate a family-style meal at the old Inn near the Woolen Mill.

Now that money was no longer a concern, I went a bit wild and bought a lot of stuff, but then Babs could use it: loads of baby blankets and comforters and ... Hell, I got us all these kewl Tilly Hat's, and there was this leather shop where ... The VISA people were going to have a heart attack, when they saw my charges.

That night we had trouble sleeping, as our time together was coming to an end.

* * * *

Friday June 15, 2007

I woke, Friday morning, sandwiched between Eric and Mel and feeling Grrreat! And they were on top of the blankets that I was under, I'll have you know. This was wholesome family snuggling not a letter to the editor of Hus.... never mind.

We got to Terrace Hill early in the morning. I dropped my friends off, and with their help sneaked all the presents for Babs and her not quite yet born babies into the mansion. I said my goodbyes to the family then hustled to meet the Senator's plane. He'd arranged for my truck to be shipped back to Whateley, as I'd not have the time to drive it back now or to get it shipped on my own. I stopped at the local Ford dealer who was handling the arrangements. Their courtesy van took me, and my considerable luggage, to the airport. I have got to learn not to buy so much clothing.

* * * *

I flew with Joe and Sara to Berlin, NH, on his executive jet. This saved me booking my own, and I owed Pinky this. A little FYI is in order. Joe, his Federal Judge friend, Judge Juday, and the lawyers they hired, had negotiated with Mrs. Conner and her husband, but the results were not what we’d hoped. The dad continued to have no interest in his child; Pinky’s mom remained steadfastly convinced mutants were evil and that her child was a liar when she claimed she’d been abused by her doctor.

Most of the flight was spent in silence. I was imagining possible outcomes of the meeting. Most were bittersweet, at best. I found myself bursting into tears. This was not a happy trip, after all, though the presence of my two friends helped. I remember Sara hugging me and ... I ended up sitting next to Sara, my head resting on her shoulder the rest of the way. Joe was kind, and let us alone after asking if he could help; another point in his favor in my book. Here they were, newlyweds, and I was keeping them apart. I owe them so.

I’d long concluded it was time to bring this mess to a close. Pinky’s healthy development into adulthood needed the issue of her parents resolved. I feared continued conflict might re-kindle her antisocial behavior. I could not let the sweet woman who’d emerged be once again overwhelmed by her personal demons. I called ahead and asked Pinky to meet us at the farm. She brought a day bag with a few essentials. We drove back to Berlin and flew on to Boston with Joe and Sara.

Once in the air, Joe briefed us. ”Joanie, Ms. Conner,”

"Pinky, please.”

"Pinky it is then, dear lady. I hate to be blunt but you deserve the truth. My friends and I have tried many times, and in many ways, to convince your mother to relent, but she is adamant in her beliefs. I do not believe she means you harm, but she is clearly not disposed to act in your best interests. I feel a one-on-one meeting with our friends and advisors in attendance is your best opportunity for a breakthrough, some compromise. Otherwise it may be years, or never, before your mother realizes her folly. I have to be honest, I don’t think your mom will come around. I’m so sorry.”

Pinky cried, and the Senator and Sara took turns comforting her, as did I.

* * * *

We arrived in Boston in under an hour. We were picked up at the airport by Judge Juday and a local family court judge who would act as more as an arbiter than a judge -- a well-dressed fifty-something woman. She looked fit, professional, and to be honest, attractive. I'll admit it, I have *the hots* for damn near anything that moves but this one was one fine looking older woman, really.

"Pinky, Joanie, my dear Sara, meet Judge Barbara Benton.”

"Joanie, may I call you that? The Senator says you prefer to be called Joanie. A little about myself: I'm a lawyer; I still have my soul, and we share the same birthday, December 18th, though in my case it’s 1952, not 1957.”

"Ah, so you’re a fellow Sagittarian. Having your birthday a week before Christmas sucked as a kid, I’ll bet.”

She nodded. I noticed how youthful she was for 54.

~~Barbara sure has aged well. She must have been a looker in her day. She’s no Barbie doll, she can’t be much over five feet tall, but still ... Not Barbie doll, Barbie Benton! OMG!~~

I started to snicker; my *mind* was being its usual naughty self. "S-s-sorry, you weren’t nicknamed Barbie in school were you, Ms Benton?” I made bunny ears with my hands and arms.

"Yes, I was ... Ah, the former Playmate and girlfriend of Huge Hefner. I got teased about that a few times, but then it was fun to call for a date at a dorm or frat house announcing myself as Barbie Benton, here to see Joe Shmo.”

"It's a good thing your name wasn't Marilyn Monroe. Sorry!"

She smiled.

"I have a juvenile sense of humor, and it gets me in trouble. Being nervous doesn't help but it's no excuse. Please, forgive me. I know you are here to ensure Pinky’s interests are protected, and I thank you for that. Just I am very nervous.”

"Nothing to forgive, Joanie. The Senator and Judge Juday have told me what you did to catch Ms Conner’s assailants -- most impressive.”

"They told you *everything*?" I laughed nervously. "I don’t like it when people are preyed upon, and Pinky surely did not deserve what happened to her. I always was this way, but since my mutation, it has intensified to almost a compulsion. I had to do something to help her; my conscience would not accept anything less. I was right, too; Pinky is worth the effort.”

Pinky gave me a hug. "I couldn’t believe she’d do this for me, after how I’d acted, but I’ve learned Joanie is that way to everyone -- well, almost everyone. She wants to like people and for them to like her. I wish my mom was like that, but ... even when I was little, she was never real close to anyone. I still love her, even if she doesn’t love me.”

We were advised how to act during the hearing, and what to expect. Judge Benton had met previously with Pinky’s mom, and both sides agreed to abide by her decision in this informal meeting. We soon were at her old home; Pinky was both excited to be home and apprehensive. We were met by the rest of Pinky's legal team and a court reporter. We walked to the door and rang the bell.

"Judge Benton, ladies, gentlemen welcome.” A man, obviously a lawyer, said as he let us in.

I looked around. The house was well kept and clean, but lacking in warm touches. I noticed shadows on the wall where paintings or photos used to hang but had been removed some time back. The few items on display appeared religious in nature. There was nothing secular, or of her family, visible.

"What’s with the shadows on the wall? Something’s been changed here,” I whispered to Pinky.

"Those were family photos, and my school photos from before my ... Mine came down, after I mutated. I see Dad’s are down, too, but then they separated, didn’t they? The religious stuff is new, for the most part.”

"Hang in there, Hon. Maybe your mom will see the light. Her turning to faith to seek forgiveness may be a good sign.” I whispered.

Judge Benton sat at the dining room table. Our group sat on one side of the dining room/living room, her mom’s people on the other. Mrs. Conners entered the room. I could see much of Pinky in her mom’s features, but this woman was unhappy, almost grim in her expression.

Judge Benton began. "This meeting is to determine the legal status of Ms Pamela *Pinky* Conner. Both parties have stipulated to the court they will abide by its rulings and to the informal nature of today’s proceedings. For the record, the court reporter will make a transcript of this hearing. Don’t think of this as a formal hearing so much as an informal gathering to decide how best to meet the needs of the minor, Pamela Connors. Please feel free to speak your mind, but let us have some decorum, okay?”

Each side presented its case for why they had Pinky’s best interest at heart. They presented a signed, notarized deposition from the wayward father, in which he relinquished any claims to Pamela’s guardianship. Pinky knew it was inevitable, but I noticed her cry, nevertheless. Part of her wanted a happy family, and her father's document was another nail in that coffin. Her mom’s lawyers major argument was she needed a structured life and discipline, as her mutation had led to "unstable behavior.”

"You call being drugged and raped by your own doctor ‘unstable behavior’ on my part?” Pinky was furious and barely restrained herself at the implied accusation.

"Ms Conner, you will have your turn to speak. Please, do not interrupt,” the judge admonished her.

Her mom’s lawyers and advisors looked happy. "We propose Ms. Pamela’s current guardian’s rights be terminated, as she has stipulated, and that she be returned to the joint custody of her natural mother and of the The Unified Church of the One True Faith. With their resources, Ms Pamela will be cured and restored to a productive life.”

~~Cured, of what? Being a mutant?~~

"I have reports of her class work, deportment, and the recommendation of her school psychologist. They indicate she is doing well under the supervision of her current guardian. The court has the reports from her former school both pre- and post-mutation for comparison. In fact, she is doing far better than at any time since her mutation, and in some aspects better than at any time in her life. Why change the status quo?” the judge asked.

"Though we commend Ms Brown for her care of Pamela...,”

~~Yeah, like *I* believe that line, Mister Shyster.~~

"... we fear she is unfortunately biased when it comes to mutants and lacks the necessary detachment to act in Pamela’s best interest. We attribute her apparent improvement to the sheltered environment she is in. In the long run, we believe this will hurt her, as she will not have worked through her difficulties relating to normal people and has simply ignored it. We believe strongly in preserving the natural family, whenever practical. Ms Brown’s custody of Pamela deprives her of contact with her mother, her blood.”

I wanted to respond but held my tongue, letting our legal people earn their keep.

"Your honor, respected council is intimating that because Ms Brown is a mutant woman that somehow disqualifies her from understanding the needs of a mutant girl. We argue precisely the opposite. Ms Brown’s decades of life experience prior to her mutation, combined with her intimate knowledge of the stresses of becoming a mutant, make her perfectly suited to guide Ms Conner to a healthy adulthood. Her having once been a man gives her insight of the male aspects of Miss Conner alternating female/dual sex existence few could match. That she has the facilities of America’s, and arguably the world’s, finest educational and research institute for mutants to assist her makes the case for her continued guardianship of Ms Conner all the more compelling.

"As to denying her contact with family, her aunt -- her mother’s sister -- is a respected senior administrator at the school."

~~Not a lie per se. Ms Hartford IS respected... as to liked ...well.~~

"They have an ongoing, close relationship, with the guardian's full blessing. Her aunt is also a mutant and understands the hardships it can place on a teenage girl, That the mother and her sister are estranged is unfortunate, but that does not preclude the aunt from helping her niece. We have a notarized deposition from the aunt, Ms Amelia Hartford, for the court's consideration.”

~~The barracuda of administration likes her niece! What else can I say?~~

It went on like this for some time, each side making its case and refuting the other. I was asked questions by both sides and the court. I was as honest and calm as I could be. Essentially, I said I loved her like a sister but had no problems acting as her mother when necessary. I emphasized I only wanted the best for her, be that her returning to her biological mom, remaining in my custody, or something else.

Finally Pinky took *the stand.*

"Ms Conner, in your own words tell us what *you* want, not what you think the court or others expect you to say. You are in a difficult situation, and any choice will have consequences. Take your time.”

"I miss my mother, and what we used to have when I was little, but then Mom and I were never real close. I think her sister -- my aunt -- mutating upset her and made her withdraw from others. Still, Mom was, and is, a good person and a good mother ... I want to live with her ...”

"We move Ms Connor be give into the custody of ...”

"You had your turn, several in fact. Please let the young woman have hers. Just because I said to treat this as an informal gathering does not diminish the fact this is a legal hearing both parties agreed to. I am willing to grant considerably leeway, but don't push it.

"Continue, Ms Conner, I take it you have not finished. Take as long as you need, dear,” the judge interrupted.

"What I was saying is that I Iove my mother and would like to live with her, but I can’t see that happening, not as things are now. Everything I heard today convinces me she believes being a mutant is a disease, or unholy in some way, and that they cannot be trusted. How can I live with someone who automatically discounts anything I say?

"Mom, tell the truth, don't sugar coat it to spare my feelings. Do you believe I lied, when I said my doctor drugged and raped me?”

"The man was framed; that evidence was pieced together and made up. I believe you think he assaulted you, but that is the disease of your mutation talking, not my lovely Pinky. My friends tell me they have treatments to make you whole again; I only want what’s best.”’

"That is all I need to know. Judge, I wish to remain under the care of Joanie until I am of legal age. Mom, I’m sorry, but it won’t work out.”

"Fine, if that’s all the respect you have for your family. Go live with your mutant *friends*, for all I care. My daughter died the day she turned into that thing.”

My dear friend cried. It took some time to console her. It took longer for my emotions to settle down, but I managed to hide it. I had to be strong for her.

We broke up, not long after that. Her lawyers tried to mitigate the damage of the mother's outburst, but it was too little, too late. The judge ordered a full audit of all family and individual assets, to see if there were any legacies or other assets belonging to Pinky still under her parents' control. Her parents were ordered to put a certain percentage of their gross annual incomes, along with a percentage of their assets, into a trust for Pinky’s future educational needs, to be administered by a court-appointed trustee. Though he'd given up his parental rights, Daddy-dearest was not going to weasel out of his financial responsibilities, nor her mother.

Before we left, Pinky was given the opportunity to recover any personal belongings or things of sentimental value to her. She took surprisingly little. Understandable as I think back on it. She had grown considerably since last living at home, not counting her female to male and female alternating cycle. Seeing the bulk of her childhood reduced to the contents of a couple suitcases was unsettling to me. Her mother did let her take some family photos saying she didn't want them.

* * * *
The drive back to the airport was somber interrupted by an odd conversation.

"Pinky," Judge Benton began, "I must compliment you on how you handled yourself under difficult circumstances. Everything your teachers and friends said about you was true: you are a mature and intelligent young woman.

”Thank you, Barbie." We were all on a first name basis, by now. Judge Benton had reminded me and Pinky many times to drop the formality. I was pleased the judge thought enough of her feelings to let Pinky interact with her as an adult. "But this is not what you wanted to talk about, was it? Speak freely, I trust everyone here." Pinky reciprocated Judge Benton's kindness by acting as mature as she possibly could. It was impressive but then she is very bright. I suspect her IQ is significantly higher than mine, and I'm no knuckle-dragger myself. I walk erect AND chew bubble-gum at the same time, honest!

'You're practically a genius ... for a blonde,' I *heard* some of you thinking, dear readers. Very funny. P.S.: I *know* where you live.

"I'm a children's court judge, Pinky; that's, in part, why I was called in on your behalf. I must warn you there is a slight, but real, possibility your birth mother could regain custody, if her lawyers can find a sympathetic judge. I won't go into all the details, but technically they could make a case that this was not a *proper proceeding*. In the end we would win, I have no doubt. They agreed in the presence of witnesses, and at most we bent the rules but didn't break them. Still, there is a small risk. But there is a solution if you are willing. This concerns you as well, Joanie, so listen closely."

"What must we do?"

"To the point, Pinky, as expected,"

"I'll do anything I can, just ask." I added.

"This plan asks a lot from both of you. To prevent your mother regaining custody, we need to make your legal status unassailable. You are too young to be emancipated -- that is, given the legal status of an adult — but you can change the status of your guardianship, if you and Joanie are willing?"

"Absolutely! Whatever it takes."

"Me too. I could never go back to my mom, as she is now; I'll do whatever you recommend."

"One last question then, Pinky: How do you think of Joanie? What is she to you?" Judge Barbie asked.

"She is my best friend -- more like my sister, maybe even like a twin sister? She is the person I most aspire to emulate." She grinned. "I was practicing my English grammar; sorry, Judge Benton."

~~Why so formal, Pinky?~~

"Go on, Pinky."

"I trust her with my life and would do anything to help her. She's more of a mother to me than Mom ever was, even before I mutated."

"And you, Joanie?"

"Pinky is the closest friend I have. That's not to say I'm not equally as close with your two grandchildren, Joe, or with Babs, but I see Pinky every day. I worry about her when I don't see her when I expect to. I cheer when she does well, and I hurt when she hurts. When she smiles, my heart lights up. When her mom denounced her today, it was like a knife to my gut seeing her pain."

"Do you think Joanie's sexy? Do you dream of her? Do the two of you ever.... "

"What? She's my best friend! I could never hurt her ... You think Joanie is having sex with me? That's sick! She would never do that. Sure, I think she's sexy; you'd have to be blind not to see it. But Joanie, the person, is prettier still. She would never betray a trust. Plus she's totally dedicated to this hunky boy, she'd ... She just wouldn't."

"Are you happy now? You made Pinky cry. *Respectfully*, what the hell was that about?! I don't care if you are a judge, that was plain out wrong!"

"I told you so," Senator Joe spoke up.

"I apologize for my rude questions, but I had to be sure. In court, sometimes, it's this bad or worse, but still that doesn't excuse my behavior. Forgiven?"

"Yes ... This was a test?

"Told you Pinky is smart cookie." The Senator sounded like a proud grandparent.

"Pinky, what if you could chose your mom? If you could choose who ..."

"Joanie! Please, please, please?"

Pinky was bouncing all over the place or would have been if not for the seatbelt. *I* remained dignified and calm.

"You want me to adopt ...? Where do I sign? When? Oh my ghod, Daddy's gonna have a stroke, when I tell him I'm an unwed mother ... of a teenager at that. Sorry, I'm sooooo sorry. Did I just slap your face, Joe?" he nodded but smiled. "Crap! Did I kick someone, I'm ..." A certain woman pointed at herself. "'Sooorry!, Judg ... um Barbie." I felt like an idiot. Thank Ghod Pinky's interruption saved me.

"You'll have me?" Pinky looked like a little kid wondering if Santa had come.

"Was there ever any doubt?" I never imagined a hundred pounds of girl could move that fast or squeeze that hard.

~~I'll never be cruel to a toothpaste tube again.~~

"Pinky, I can't breathe!" Mind you I doubt if anyone heard me as our ears were ringing from Pinky's shrieks of joy. I remained cool and collected and bawled like baby, I was so happy.

* * * *

We spent the next hour signing and witnessing legal paper after legal paper. We arrived at the airport and said our farewells to the two judges. Doctor Sara would rejoin us for the flight back to Berlin and Whateley. She'd rested at a nearby hotel, while we'd met with Ms. Connors and her lawyers.

"I can't thank you enough, Barbie, for what you did for us. I may not be her birth mom, but I will be the best mom I can for Pinky."

"That you will be, Joanie."

"You said your being a children's court judge was part of why you were asked to help. What's the rest? You must be good at what you do to be called in on this."

"You'll have to ask my husband about that."

"I refuse to answer on the grounds my wife will kill me." Judge Juday replied.

"Whaaa?"

"I kept my maiden name when we married, Joanie" The two judges then engaged in some highly *unprofessional conduct*; oh my yes!

"I'm tempted to ask what happens when you go into chambers, but I don't want to spend ten to twenty in Leavenworth ... Did *I* say that out loud? Sorry, blonde moment but then I'm entitled." I giggled and blushed. They were a very tactile couple and at their age too.

"You were right, Joe. Dinner's on me, next get together."

"Were you two gambling?" Doctor Sara asked, walking in on our conversation.

"Not with Joanie; that was a sure thing."

"You say the kindest things, Joe -- I think."

* * * *

To Be continued

in chapter 13

John in Wauwatosa