This series of stories was originally posted as 3 separate stories. The theme ties together so well I figured it would be best to make a 3-chapter or 3-part single posting. Yes, I know that this borrows VERY HEAVILY from "Revenge of the Nerds". That's on purpose. If you don't like that, don't read. I just added some Bikini Beach 'magic'....

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A group of nerds at a college get tricked into going to Bikini Beach, and then serving as sluts for a fraternity party. When their friends decide to help get revenge, things get very interesting for the fraternity.

This story is copyright by the author. It is protected by licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Brandon and Robert had been the best of friends since they were four. They'd grown up across the street from each other. They went to the same schools, and they shared most of the same interests. The one problem, to the consternation of their mothers and the disappointment of their fathers, was that neither boy took any sort of interest in sports. Neither boy was built for sports; they were under six feet in height, and rather slight of build. They only participated in outdoor activities when they were forced; both would rather be inside, reading, building models of their own design, and later, building electronics projects, playing Dungeons and Dragons, doing some serious computer programming and light hacking, and reading lots more. In a word, they were nerds. Socially, they were both inept; neither boy had dated at all in high school. While their grades were both exemplary, either mother would have taken a B or two in exchange for some girlfriends or dating. Or even sports. Alas, it was not to be. Brandon was valedictorian — by two hundredths of a grade point.

And now, high school was over; it was time for the boys to move on. The city college was out; it had none of the engineering and science programs the boys craved. The nearest college was seven hours drive away, on the coast. Their fathers held out some faint hope that the boys would start spending time on the beaches, and get tanned, muscled, and maybe take up surfing and dating. It was the hope only a parent could have; the chance of anything like that happening was less than the chance of a major blizzard in Honolulu in August.

With great fanfare, the boys packed up the old Ford Taurus Brandon had gotten from an aunt, said goodbye to their parents, and hit the road. Seven weary hours later, they arrived on campus, ready to start their new life as adult college men.

Housing turned out to be a much more significant problem than they'd expected. While freshmen and sophomores had once been required to live on campus, a new state law designed to equalize opportunities for minority students had caused an explosion in the student population. Housing was in short supply, even after the sophomore rule was lifted. Expecting this, the campus had taken some drastic emergency actions over the course of the summer.

And so, Brandon and Rob trudged along Palm Walk, traversing campus from the housing office to their new residence. "It doesn't look like much," Rob said warily as they approached the old gymnasium.

Brandon, ever the optimist, shrugged off his friend's worries. "I'm sure they've done a great job on the inside. Remember the dean said they made individual rooms for us."

Rob wasn't convinced. As they neared the old gym building, his fears magnified. The building had been slated for demolition. Then, with a shortage of space and funds, it had been spared that fate, so that the inside could be transformed into dozens of cubicle-like dorm rooms in a desperate attempt to handle the overpopulation.

Inside, they dodged a bucket, half full of rainwater in a testament to the building's dilapidated condition. Former offices had been turned into rooms. Bleachers had been removed, and thin walls hastily erected to make a maze of rooms. Rob looked around their assigned room and groaned. "I told you this wasn't going to be that great." Of the two, Rob was easily the more pessimistic.

Brandon shook his head, smiling. "Oh, no. We'll get up our pictures, and set up our computer. It'll be great. Just wait and see."

Rob glanced around the room again. His heart sank when he noted that the bunk bed was three high. "And we've got another roommate, too."

Brandon glanced at the bed and smiled. "Great. I hope he plays chess."

Despite Rob's sense of hopelessness, the room actually did come together rather well — all things considered. They were just about done unpacking when a knock sounded on the door casing. "Are you two assigned here as well?" The voice from the doorway sounded foreign.

At the door was an impeccably dressed young man, alternating his gaze from Rob and Brandon, to the empty bunk, to the number on the door, and then to a slip of paper in his hand. Then he repeated the cycle.

"I'm Rob. I guess we're your roommates."

The boy adjusted his wire-rim glasses and smiled. "Splendid," he said with a smile. "Bertram Smythe." He reached out into the hallway and slid in a suitcase. "Which bunk is mine?"

Rob glanced at Brandon, then back at Bertram. "I guess you can take the top one if you like."

Bertram smiled. "By the way, my friends call me Bertie. Or Bert." He surveyed the room again, and his eyes lit up at the sight of the computer in the corner. "By chance do you have the new graphics chipset in that?" he asked hopefully.

This time, it was Brandon who glanced at Rob, and it was an I-told-you-so look. "It's a quad-processor system, with sixteen gig of memory, and running the ATI graphics. Over five terabytes of hard disk, a burner, and a blu-ray player."

Bert smiled. "This could be a truly stunning term," he said, clearly glad to have met Brandon and Rob. "The only thing that could be better is if one of you chaps liked to play chess."

**********

Each dorm had a dorm council; it was no different with the old gym. Rob was selected by their 'wing', which was the third row of rooms in the cavernous gym. The wing began to refer to themselves informally as Cellblock 3, since the entire arrangement seemed more suited to a prison than to a college. Still, each boy had a bed, a wardrobe closet, and a desk, and each room had its own light and false ceiling. The communal bathroom and shower were less than optimal, but it would have to do.

It didn't take Rob long to realize that the administration, possibly at the urging of the ROTC and athletic departments, had concentrated the jocks and ROTC in the existing dorms; that left Gym Hall filled mostly with academic types. Rob began to get to know some of them on the dorm council.

Fred was a sixteen year old computer genius who'd finished school two years early. It would have been more, but his father wouldn't let him graduate any quicker. As a result, Fred had been bored, and got a reputation as a prankster in his high school. And as he described some of the stunts he'd pulled, the other boys sat mesmerized; they realized they were in the presence of a master.

Arnold, on the other hand, was a very shy, contemplative lad. His talents had gone unrecognized in the small town school he attended; it wasn't until he took the SATs that anyone realized he was incredibly gifted.

And then there was Chuck. Chuck defied the stereotypes of the rest of the dorm. Chuck had served two terms in the navy, as a soundman in a ballistic missile submarine. Around electronics, Chuck was right at home. Compared to Chuck, Rob and Brandon realized they were amateurs.

With such an assortment of gifted students, it didn't take long for the rest of the college to being picking on the new dorm and its occupants. One morning, the boys arose to find "Nerd Hall" spray-painted over the door of the gym. Girls avoided invitations to the old gym like the plague. Socially, it was a leper colony.

One evening, as they surfed the net, Brandon turned to Rob. "You know, I think we ought to pledge a fraternity."

Rob halted in mid keystroke. "Why?"

"Women," Brandon replied simply.

"Women?"

"Women." Brandon sat back. "Have you noticed that none of the guys in the dorm have dated? You know why? Because the rest of them think we're a bunch of nerds."

Rob sighed. "Aren't we?"

Brandon smiled. "Touche'. Yeah, I guess we are." He leaned forward again in anticipation. "But just think — if we got in a really good frat, then we wouldn't be nerds anymore. And that would mean we could meet women."

Rob sat and thought for a moment. "But some of the fraternities are pretty exclusive," he said cautiously. "How are we going to get in?"

**********

Rob had proven to be right. Of the six rush parties they'd gone to, Rob and Brandon had been shuffled to one side almost immediately. While other young men were seriously courted as potential pledges, Rob and Brandon were barely spoken to.

Then they came to the Alpha Sigma Sigma rush party. Rob was pessimistic as usual, but things seemed different. They'd been talked to, like they were real candidates. They were told of the benefits of being in their fraternity, and told of the social schedule, which included lots of parties. It was almost like the Alphas wanted Rob and Brandon to join.

Still, Rob was unconvinced. Later that night, he lay awake, trying to figure out what bothered him. "You know, Brandon, it doesn't seem right."

Brandon peered over his bunk above Rob. "What?"

"The Alphas. I mean, they're the first house to talk to us."

Brandon grinned. "Yeah, isn't it great? And they invited us to their next party, too. You know, Rob, this could be a major turning point in our lives."

Rob sighed. "Something just doesn't seem right," he repeated.

Above Brandon, Bert chimed in. "I have to agree with Rob, Brandon. In the few weeks we've been here, I've come to the conclusion that the Alphas are among the most obnoxious groups on the campus."

Brandon wasn't about to be dissuaded. "All we have to do is get dates for the dance next Friday night." He spoke as if it would be a trivial task.

**********

Friday morning, Brandon and Rob strode quietly out of the physics building. "Any luck?" Rob asked.

Brandon shook his head. "No." They walked in silence for another few steps. "I don't get it," Brandon finally said in frustration. "This is only the most exclusive party the Alphas give, and we can't get dates."

Rob nodded. "Yeah, but we're nerds, remember?"

"Hey guys," a voice called from behind them. Rob and Brandon turned simultaneously to see one of the Alphas running to catch up to them. "Glad I caught you," he said between breaths.

"Hi, Dave," Rob said without enthusiasm.

"Gonna be a great party tonight," Dave said with a grin. "You guys got dates lined up?"

Brandon shook his head. "No, we haven't had any luck."

Dave's face fell. "Oh, man, that's too bad. You have to have a date, you know." He seemed to be in sympathy with the two boys. "You try the Tri-Deltas?" Also known as the "Triple Nipples," the Tri Delta sorority was known as being quite friendly and very outgoing.

Rob nodded slowly. "No luck."

Dave looked surprised. Someone could strike out with the Tri Delts? That was unheard of. Then he looked thoughtful for a moment. "Say, you guys heard of the water park? It's mostly for girls, and some of the guys say it's a great place to pick up dates."

Brandon's eyes lit up. "No, I hadn't heard of it. You think we'll have luck there?"

Dave grinned broadly. "I guarantee you two will come away with a couple of hot babes." He rummaged around in his pocket and fished out his wallet. He pulled out a pair of faded, worn tickets. "Since I started going steady with Leslie, I guess I don’t need these any more. Why don't you guys take them and go pick up some dates for tonight?"

Brandon took the tickets like they were made of gold. "Wow, thanks man," he said eagerly. "You're a lifesaver."

Dave shook his head. "No problem, guys. You can return the favor sometime."

**********

"Look, we need to find dates, right?" Brandon stood by Rob, outside the gate of Bikini Beach. It was early afternoon, and the early autumn sun was still warm.

Something made Rob nervous, although he couldn't explain it. "I don't know..."

Brandon watched as another pair of shapely women walked into the park. "Look, from what we've seen going in, this place should have a ton of good looking girls. And if we get good dates, maybe we'll even get lucky, huh?"

Rob let the last argument persuade him; reluctantly, he walked with Brandon up to the ticket gate.

"May I help you?" a polite girl in the booth asked them.

Brandon smiled, while Rob looked down from shyness. "Yes, we were given a pair of tickets, and we'd like to go in the park."

The girl glanced at the tickets that Brandon was holding, then smiled. "Technically, they aren't tickets. This is a private park, open to members and guests only. And a limited number of guest passes such as you hold. Those are one-day passes. Just swipe them in the turnstile, go in the locker room, and change. And remember to shower before you leave the locker room."

**********

"Hey Brandon," Rob called from the shower. He cleared his throat; it sounded a bit squeaky. "You almost ready?"

Brandon didn't answer. Rob pulled back the curtain of his shower and glanced around; it wasn't like Brandon not to answer. And Rob's jaw dropped. Standing in the middle of the locker room, a shocked expression on his face, stood Brandon. Or what had been Brandon. "What's happening to me?" came the soft voice from Brandon's changing form.

Rob stared hard. It was a girl. And not just any girl, but a very well endowed blond girl standing topless. But what was more striking was that Brandon's facial features still remained; Rob knew with sickening certainty that this girl had been Brandon until only a few moments ago. "What the hell..." He stopped; his voice sounded ... higher? Rob glanced down, and nearly screamed as he saw orbs pushing out from his chest, slowly inflating into tits. He glanced back at Brandon, and saw the last masculine features fade from the now-lovely face. "Brandon, what's happening to us?"

Brandon stared down at his massive boobs, then back at Rob. "I don't know," he wailed in a sultry feminine voice. "But you're changing, too."

Rob glanced down, and knew that Brandon was right. He felt the tug on his shoulders increasing, and knew that he had large and still-growing breasts on his chest. He knew, with sickening certainty, that his swimsuit bottom was as flat as Brandon's, and that his entire body was being resculpted. "This is like a polymorph spell," Rob said softly, using a D&D reference.

A few minutes later, the changes were all over. Brandon and Rob were gone, replaced with two extremely well endowed blond girls. And it was worse; both felt a strange and compelling urge, although to do what, they didn't know. Before they could decide what to do, the locker room door opened and a pair of sorority girls came boldly in.

"Hi, girls," they said with an air of knowledge. Rob and Brandon both knew that these girls were aware of their change. "Why don't you come with us and get ready for the party?"

"I don't want to," Brandon stammered. In his soft alto, it sounded seductive, even though he was trying to be firm.

One of the girls smiled. "But you will come with us, won't you." It wasn't a question, but a statement.

Rob nodded slowly, his mind fighting against the strange power these girls seemed to have over him.

"Of course you will. You know why?" one girl mocked with her question. "Because there will be lots of boys at the party."

At the word boys, Rob felt a very powerful sensation — between his legs. He knew now what the strange compulsion was. It was sexual need. This body was horny - almost uncontrollably so.

And so Rob and Brandon allowed the girls to help them put on bikini tops, then followed them out of Bikini Beach to their waiting car. Moments later, the two were at the Alpha Sigma Sigma house, clad only in skimpy bikinis.

Dave walked up to Brandon and Rob, then smiled at the girls. "Good job," he said with a smile to the ladies. "Well, Rob, Brandon, you ready to party?"

Rob felt a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach, even as he tried to fight the rising needs of this body. They'd been set up. Dave had knowingly sent them to Bikini Beach. And now — he could only imagine what awaited them.

**********

Brandon was walking stiffly, sore. She, for he was still trapped in the ultra-slut body from Bikini Beach, hurt in places Brandon had never imagined. Clad in only their skimpy bikinis, covered with sexual fluids, the two erstwhile boys walked painfully back toward their gym dorm. They'd been done by the entire fraternity. Multiply. In ways that neither could have possibly imagined. They'd been used and abused and totally humiliated, and then the fraternity guys unceremoniously tossed them out of the house, to walk back to their dorm.

Neither boy spoke to the other; each was alone in their misery and embarrassment. Finally, Brandon noticed something. "I think we're changing back," he said hopefully.

Rob stopped, staring at Brandon in the dim light of the street lamp, and then he nodded. "Yeah, I think so." He grabbed Brandon's arm. "Let's get out of sight." The pair ducked into an alleyway, and crouched behind a dumpster. With agonizing slowness, the two boys changed back into their original forms. Finally, the changes were done.

"We were set up," Rob said simply as they continued their hike.

"Yup," Brandon said glumly. "And the car is miles away at the park."

"Are you going to tell anyone?"

Brandon shook his head. "Nope. You?"

"Nope. Besides, you think anyone would believe us?"

The continued to march along glumly, until they arrived at the dorm. They crept as quietly as possible into their room, hoping that Bert would be asleep. He wasn't. "Good party?" he asked cheerfully.

Rob glanced at Brandon and shook his head. "Nope."

**********

"Hey, Brandon." Brandon turned to see who was calling his name; it was one of the Alphas. "You look a little different today." The guy laughed. Another of the Alphas joined in. "Yeah. You looked a lot better last night." Brandon put his head down and marched into the computer lab, away from the jeering and taunts. His cheeks burned from the humiliation.

It didn't get any better back at the dorm; someone had sneaked in and plastered the hallways and restroom with 8x10 color pictures of the girls in varied acts of sex. Brandon slunk back to his room.

To his dismay, the door bore a painted message: "Get a lifetime membership."

As Brandon opened the door, Bert came around the corner. "What's all this, then?" he asked, pointing to the message.

Brandon shook his head. "I don't know," he lied. He wasn't ready to share this sordid chapter of his life — with anyone.

**********

His resolve to keep this deep dark secret didn't last. Later, some of the other guys came to their room. They'd wondered about the sudden sharp increase in taunting, the pictures, and the message on the door. Bert spoke for the group. "So what really happened?" he asked.

The room, tiny as it was, seemed tinier with the six guys in it. Rob lay on his bunk, staring at the bottom of Brandon's bunk. Brandon and Bert sat in their desk chairs, and Chuck sprawled in the third one. Fred squatted on floor, his legs crossed Indian style, while Arnold leaned against Rob's desk. It was an informal council of friends.

"Yeah, Brandon," Arnold chimed in. "What gives?

Brandon clenched his jaw. "Nothing." He turned back to his desk, trying to bury his thoughts in his physics text.

Chuck shook his head. "Look, we've noticed things are goofy today. And it all started when you were getting ready for that party last night. Something's up."

Rob didn't move his gaze. "It's nothing. Just leave it."

Arnold narrowed his eyes. "I don't get it. You guys are acting like something really bad happened. From what I've seen of the pictures, the only way I'd consider it bad is if  ¬_I_ had been one of those girls getting dorked so much." He chuckled, and then he saw Brandon's face reddening. The laugh died in Arnold's throat.

Chuck, too, had noticed. "There's some connection here," he said slowly. "All these pictures, you guys acting like something bad happened."

Rob turned toward Chuck. "They sent us to a magic park and turned us into girls. The girls in the pictures. Okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?" His voice was laced with bitterness and venom.

Chuck stared in disbelief, alternating his gaze from Brandon, who had buried his beet-red face in his hands, to Rob, who had resumed staring at Brandon's bunk. Finally, he broke the awkward silence. "You're kidding, right?"

Fred interrupted him. "I don't think so, Chuck," he said softly. "It'd have to be like a sixteenth level mage with a polymorph spell, right?" He glanced at Arnold. "I've heard of magic. Real magic. Not the stage illusions, but real magic." He looked toward Bert, then Brandon, his eyes lighted as if by a strange energy. "Most people don't believe, but there are lots of cases of really strange things that science can't explain."

Chuck shook his head. "Man, you're getting too weird for me."

Arnold cut him off. "No, Fred's right. There are some people who can do things we can't explain."

Bert glanced over at Brandon. "So how did this magic work? Did someone cast a spell on you or something?"

Rob sighed. "No, we just went into the locker room and took a shower. And then, somehow, we changed."

Fred looked thoughtful before he stood abruptly. "Just a sec, guys." He left the room at a fast trot, and within moments, was back with a thick, dark book, which he'd already opened and was perusing. He plopped back on the floor, hunched over the book as he frantically flipped through pages.

Rob levered himself to one side and glanced down at Fred. The others were slowly congregating around him, glancing over his shoulder at the old tome.

"Ah, here it is!" Fred exclaimed with growing excitement. He pored over a section of one particular page. "Yeah, it was probably the shower."

"What are you talking about?" Chuck finally sputtered. "And what the hell is that book?"

Fred glanced down, feeling a bit embarrassed, which made his boyish face seem even younger. "It's a book about magic, from the Egyptian priests to modern times, including Druids and such." He found himself feeling quite defensive. "It's a reference to their practices and magic use and stuff."

Rob snorted. "And you believe that?"

Chuck glanced at the book, then back at Rob. "Have you got any other explanation?" Rob flushed and shut his mouth.

"According to this, a lot of spells could use a medium to hold them, ready for use, until they were activated. That's where the whole idea of potions came from." Fred looked up, feeling a bit proud of himself. "So it was probably the water in the showers."

"But we didn't drink any!" Rob protested. "At least I didn't!"

Fred looked up, beaming. "According to this, you didn't have to drink it. It could be activated by simple skin contact."

Rob leaned back on his elbow, his face impassive. "So now what?" The guys glanced around the room at each other, realizing that Rob had asked the perfect question.

Brandon glanced up at the ceiling for a few long seconds, although no-one noticed. Finally, he looked back down. "Gentlemen, we need to check this place out and find out what it can do."

**********

Chuck put down his binoculars and made one final mark on a piece of paper. In the rear seat, Arnold was doing exactly the same. And so was Brandon, sitting behind the steering wheel. They were parked across the road from Bikini Beach, and for the entire day, they'd been keeping careful watch.

"Okay, what have you got?" Brandon asked.

Chuck glanced at his sheet. Six thousand, four hundred twelve women admitted, and one hundred thirty-seven men. Six thousand five hundred forty-nine women exited, and no men."

Arnold glanced at his sheet. "Same thing I got."

Brandon nodded. "Me, too."

Chuck dropped his paper, his eyes tired from the day's watching. "I guess it's real."

"Yup," Arnold agreed, although his voice had a strange enthusiasm, as if he found the existence of magic exciting. "Now what?"

**********

The 'what' turned out to be another carefully measured experiment. One of the guys, selected by random draw from Bert, Chuck, Arnold, and Fred - since Rob and Brandon had already experienced the change - purchased a guest pass the next morning.

Brandon and Arnold sat in the car, watching girl after girl exit the park, wondering how they would know when Bert finally came out. And they realized that they might not know. She — if there was a magic change — would have to find them. The guys were very impatient by mid-afternoon, when Bert finally emerged from the water park. She walked daintily across the asphalt, her sandals slapping between the asphalt and her small feet. If she hadn't come to the car, they wouldn't have recognized her. "Hi, guys," she said cheerfully, as if nothing was wrong. "That is a really smashing park, you know?"

"Bert?" Arnold asked, incredulous. "Is it really you?"

Bert smiled; his body was that of an attractive co-ed, and she resembled Bert not at all. "Yes, I'm still in here."

Brandon frowned; he and Arnold had sat in the car for most of the day. "So what took so long?" he demanded as Bert slid her attractive body into the back seat.

Bert shrugged. "You don't expect me to go into a water park and not check out the rides, do you?"

Brandon shook his head in disbelief, then started the car and put it into gear. As they pulled onto the main road, he glanced in the mirror. Bert was nonchalantly combing out his long wet hair, as if he'd done it all his life.

**********

"Okay, guys," Brandon said to the assembled gang, then he glanced at Bert, sitting in loose-fitting jogging clothes to hide his changed body, "and girl." The others giggled a bit, and Bert's cheeks reddened. "I'm getting a plan to get back at those Alpha bastards. So here's what we've got to do. First, we have to confirm that it's the water. And then?" He turned to Fred, who sat at one desk poring over his book.

Fred glanced at the book. "Then we have to find out if it's tied to one place, or if it can be transported."

Chuck looked quizzically at Fred. "Tied to one place?"

Fred nodded. "Sometimes, magic was reported to be tightly tied to a location. So we have to find out."

"By taking a sample of water out of the park and seeing if it still works, right?"

Fred grinned an acknowledgement. "Right."

Rob nodded his agreement. "I hope it isn't tied to the park. I think the entire Alpha frat knows about the magic, and I don't think there's any way we could ever get them to go in."

Brandon nodded. "I think you're right. So the first experiment is the most critical."

Bert decided it was time to interject a thought. "You guys said you were quite aroused after your change, right?" She waited for Rob and Brandon to confirm that.

Arnold scooted closer to Bert, putting an arm around her feminine shoulders. "Are you trying to give me a hint?" he said hopefully.

Bert gave Arnold a sharp elbow in the ribs, which doubled Arnold over. "Watch your hands," she said harshly. "It's still me inside here." She turned back to Brandon. "I'm not feeling any of the, uh, compulsion you said you had."

Brandon stared at Bert. "And your knockers are a lot smaller, too." He glanced back to Fred. "Well?"

Fred knew that all eyes were on him. "There are probably some aspects of the change that can be controlled, or at least specified."

Rob nodded his agreement. "Okay, Brandon. What's the plan?"

Brandon thought for a moment. "Here's what we have to do."

**********

It was Chuck's turn to change next — to get the sample of water for the experiment. She emerged as a statuesque woman in her mid-twenties -—attractive but not movie-star quality. And she carried the coveted wineskin full of water from the shower.

While Chuck was changing, Rob talked to the girl at the gate. She seemed nice — Vicky was her name, and she was a student at the university — and was more than helpful once Rob let on that he knew the secret and had been changed once himself. He offered to take her for ice cream after she got off work. To perhaps everyone's surprise, she accepted.

Back at the dorm, Fred stood among the guys — and Chuck — and poured some of the water into a glass. He steeled himself, gulped nervously, and then took a large swallow.

"Well?" Brandon asked anxiously almost as soon as Fred finished swallowing.

"Well what?" Fred responded as he set the glass down. "It took time for you, right?" The last word squeaked, emerging in a higher pitch. Fred glanced around, and saw the guys staring open-mouthed at him. "What?" His voice was definitely different; it sounded softer and much higher pitched.

Chuck had seen the changes take place on himself; now, as he watched Fred's body morphing, he stood transfixed by the process. Like water flowing, Fred's hair lengthened visibly, growing more full, lighter, and much longer in a slow steady process. At the same time, Fred's shirt started to get tight as mounds began to appear — tiny at first, but growing and swelling and becoming much more round. Almost imperceptibly, he began to shrink, growing shorter and shorter. Fred's hips widened a little; he was only sixteen, and the female equivalent wouldn't have as round a but nor as wide of hips as Chuck currently possessed. Still, the change was obvious. Like the narrowing of Fred's waist. Fingers, hands, arms, legs — they all changed smoothly and slowly as his flesh rearranged itself in response to the magic in the water. Even his clothing was caught up in the spell; his T-shirt flowed in a shimmering fluid motion until it was a halter top, gently cradling Fred's new perky breasts. His shorts got shorter, widening to accommodate his rounder butt, and flattening in front as his male organ vanished inside his body. Within three minutes, Fred was a girl, completely and totally.

"Wow!" Arnold said softly as he stared at the newly formed girl.

Brandon shook his head in disbelief. Even though he'd experienced it himself, he found it amazing to watch Fred transform. "Wow is right. Fred? How does it feel in there?"

Fred was staring open-mouthed at her body, her hands cupping the breasts she now had. "This is incredible!" she said in a soft high voice. "I wouldn't have believed it!"

Arnold got over his reverie at watching the change. "How about you?" he asked, hope springing eternal. "You want to try out that new bod?"

Fred shot him a look that nearly withered Arnold. Had he been a couple of steps closer, Arnold would have gotten a knee in his groin. "Not likely, slime." Fred snarled in a voice that, despite the intent, sounded surprisingly sexy.

**********

"Okay, what did you learn?"

Rob smiled. "She's a business major. She's working there to pay off a debt; apparently, she and a few friends sneaked in for a midnight swim, and then got caught."

Chuck smacked Rob's arm. "About the park, dummy!"

"Oh. Uh, you were right," he said to Fred. "You know, you're pretty cute as a girl," he said. Fred slapped his other arm. "Okay, okay. I get the message." He turned back to the group. "Most of the time, the old woman who runs the place just changes the guys into their female equivalent — the woman they'd have been if their DNA had a second X chromosome."

"Most of the time?"

Rob grinned. "She can control a lot. Age, hair color, body shape. Even the libido of the customer."

Brandon grinned. "So how does that part work?"

Rob shook his head. "I don't know."

"I guess we'll have to do a little more experimenting until we find out then."

Chuck glanced at Brandon. "So what's next? Turn someone into a busty slut?"

Brandon visibly winced. "We're going to have to try it."

**********

Arnold was the unfortunate one who drew the straw for the next experiment. Like a man under a death sentence, he walked slowly to the ticket booth. His cheeks crimson with embarrassment, he made a very specific request, and took the pass the girl gave him. Slowly, he trudged to the gate and went into the park.

A very short while later, a girl with unimaginably large boobs, covered by a T-shirt stretched to the breaking point, sauntered out of the gate. Her long platinum blond hair danced about her shoulders in time with the swaying of her wide hips. A clingy and very short skirt actually emphasized her hips, and drew a man's gaze to them like a magnet. Her waist, narrow as it was, accentuated the curves of her body, giving her a distinctly slutty appearance. She walked uneasily to the car and leaned over, resting her arms on the door. "Well, is this what you expected?" Her voice was high-pitched, almost bimboish.

Brandon glanced at Fred, then stared back into the deep cleavage of Arnold's new body. "Uh..." was all he could stammer.

Arnold opened the door and slid in beside Fred. "How about we get out of here?" she said softly.

Fred felt himself sweating as Arnold put her hand on his knee, then moved it seductively up to Fred's thigh. She glanced at Fred, and circled her tongue around her lips. Then she grasped Fred's head and pushed it into her huge cleavage. "You like this?" she asked softly. Meanwhile, her hand had roamed, and she grinned. "From what I've found, I'd say that you do."

Fred found himself on the horns of a dilemma. This was Arnold. And yet, it wasn't. Was it? Inside this sex-crazed bimbo, somewhere, was Arnold. And yet... He moaned softly as Arnold began to rub his firm manhood through his pants. Youthful hormones and desire overwhelmed any caution, and Fred grabbed at Arnold's huge tits with one hand while he plunged his other hand into her panties.

*********

"So, who wants to test the water?" Brandon asked quietly. Only five of the guys were gathered; Arnold was probably in her room masturbating again. Since she'd been changed, she'd done Fred, Bert, and two guys down the hall. And she'd been playing with herself almost non-stop. Naturally, there were no immediate volunteers for this crucial experiment. Not after they saw what it had done to Arnold.

Brandon sighed. "Okay, here's what we'll do." He took five paper cups and poured the water into one of them. Then he poured plain tap water into the other four. "Okay, all of you turn your backs. I'm going to mix up the glasses. Then we'll each, in turn, mix them up. Then we each drink one." The guys agreed, and they took turns mixing up the glasses, until at last, not one of them had any idea which was spiked. Each took a glass. Nervously, they held them. "Cheers," Bert said fatalistically, then poured the water down his throat. The others followed.

It only took a few seconds; Brandon was the unfortunate one who'd gotten the spiked water. To his dismay, he felt his boobs swelling to immense proportions, while his hair flowed into long wavy blond tresses. His butt grew, while his waist narrowed. More importantly, his T-shirt transformed into a very low-cut halter top which dangled above his naked navel, held away from his waist by the enormous breasts. His pants flowed into a very short skirt, clinging tightly to his wide hips and baring most of his long sexy legs.

"So how do you feel?" Chuck finally asked.

Brandon stared down at her body, then at Chuck. Then she practically leaped upon Chuck, grasping his face and kissing him desperately while rubbing her massive melons against his chest. She broke off the kiss, letting one hand drop to Chuck's crotch. "Oh, please," she said in a sultry voice, "I need you!" She attacked Chuck's belt with vigor, anxious to free his manhood to satisfy her overwhelming needs.

**********

Arnold checked his shopping list and headed into the plumbing aisle. Some of the things on the list were rather obscure, and he had to get help from the staff, but he finally managed to secure everything required.

Brandon and Bert sauntered through the computer store, pushing a shopping cart full of equipment. "Too bad the wireless bandwidth is so low. But I'm sure Chuck will overcome that little problem." Bert observed as they added another piece of gear to their cart.

Chuck sat hunched over a bench in the electrical engineering lab. Beside him, a hot soldering iron smoked, filling the air with the smell of hot rosin. He adjusted the magnifying lamp, and then reached for the iron yet again.

**********

Fred sighed heavily, taking a deep breath to steady his frazzled nerves. Rob sighed as well. "I know how you feel." As one, they glanced past the ticket booth to the entrance. "This should be the last trip."

Rob nodded slowly. "I know. But it's still weird."

Together, the guys purchased their passes, trying not to blush as the specified the specific changes they wanted to the ticket attendant. Then they walked into the park, stopping to swipe their tickets. "So how does this work, do you suppose?" Rob asked, trying to make small talk as they prepared for the enormous changes they were going to undergo.

Fred shrugged. "Probably the specifics are put on the pass, and when you go through the gate, it bonds them to you. Then the water does its thing." He stepped into the shower, pulling the curtain closed behind himself. "I'd guess if there's no specific pattern, it just does a simple gene change." His voice was getting higher through his explanation, even as he funneled some of the water off his upper body and into a collapsible jug. In the other booth, he knew that Rob was doing the same. Still...

The two left the showers almost simultaneously, carrying their jugs of water — and the enormous jugs on their chests. "I'm glad this is the last trip," Rob said with audible relief — even though his voice made him sound like a totally brainless bimbo.

"Yeah," Fred agreed. "And I'm so damned horny." She looked at Rob's luscious body, then moved closer. "Do you suppose...?"

Rob set her own jug down, and grabbed Fred's huge boob with one hand as she pulled Fred into a passionate kiss. "I can't wait either," she panted during a very brief break in the kiss.

**********

"Okay, are your watches synchronized?" Brandon glanced at his watch, then around the room. All the heads nodded their readiness. "Good. You know your jobs? Team 1?"

Rob nodded solemnly. "All set."

"Team 2?" Fred glanced at Bert, then gave a thumbs up. "Team 3?" Brandon looked at Chuck, who nodded. "We're set. Team 4?" In answer, Arnold grinned broadly. Brandon glanced at his watch again. "Okay, the show starts at zero two hundred."

**********

Rob hugged the telephone pole tightly as a patrol car cruised silently beneath him. Only when it was safely around the corner did he exhale. Then he leaned back against the support of the lineman's belt. His hand reached up and switched on the tiny flashlight affixed to his hat, and then he reached to his belt and retrieved a small screwdriver. Within seconds, the junction box was open, revealing its secrets to the world. Rob grinned. This was going quite well. He found the phone wires, pulled out a tester, then grinned as he began to rewire the circuits. Within minutes, he closed the junction box. Now he turned his attention to the small black box dangling from the junction box. Carefully, he taped it to the bottom of the junction box, taking care to make the new box as invisible as possible. Now, all he had to do was wait.

Team 2, Bert and Fred, dropped as quietly as possible into the inky blackness of the Alpha house attic. Like Rob, they had flashlights on their hats; they now switched them on. The wavering beams of light danced around the joists and beams of the attic. Bert shucked off his backpack and began rummaging through it. He found what he was looking for quickly. He handed the black box to Fred, who peered through the now-missing gable vent toward the alley. He smiled grimly, then took out some tools and fastened the box to a particular rafter. Next, he pulled another small box out and taped it to a joist. Bert, meanwhile, located an electrical junction box and removed its cover. He smiled to himself; though they were prepared for anything, the house was new enough to use wire nuts for connections. He quickly untwisted one of the wire nuts, added a slender wire to the bundle, and retied the nut. He repeated his action for the second wire. He glanced at Fred.

Arnold, the sole member of team 4, glanced over the scripts yet again. They had to be absolutely perfect. He worried at times like this; the slightest slip might trigger a firewall or intrusion detection software. He glanced again at a second monitor; it remained idle. It wasn't time for him — not yet.

Chuck tugged, towing the large tank of water through the crawl space. Overhead, he could hear the occasional footstep echoing on the floor. Still, it was late, and the chance of anyone detecting them was remote. Behind him, Brandon stopped and shone his flashlight on a paper, then around the beams. "Here," he hissed softly. "This is the kitchen."

Fred saw LEDs on the black boxes twinkle; the power was connected. Now for the rest of the job. "Okay, let's get the cameras." He pulled out a small auger and began to quietly bore into the sheetrock ceiling hung from the joists below him. He felt the auger carefully; when he felt the right change in resistance, Fred stopped. He withdrew the auger and took out tiny white ferrule. He slipped it down, feeling a tiny click as it popped through the paper face of the sheetrock below. Behind the ferrule, he mounted another tiny gizmo. Then he fed a fiber-optic bundle into the ferrule, and attached the other end to a tiny box which Bert had been wiring into the network hub they'd installed. Bert flipped a switch, and the tiny camera blinked a red LED. Fred nodded silently, and the duo moved on.

Rob watched, and saw the box spring to life, indicated by an LED blinking. He smiled and began to descend the utility pole.

Arnold saw an indicator flash on his second monitor. He turned his attention to the first monitor. His finger paused above the enter key, and after taking a deep breath, he pressed the key. Committed. Now it all depended on his script and his ability to direct the program now loosed into the computers in the Alpha house, and to link them to the waiting web site.

Chuck was sweating, and not from heat. The crawlspace was cool, but they were in constant danger of being discovered, and the heat of the blowtorch couldn't be avoided. He checked the last connection and turned the torch on the new joint. The copper absorbed the heat quickly, and soon, the tin solder flowed into the joint, sealing it against leaks. Satisfied, he twisted the valve and the flame snapped off. "Okay, give it a test." In answer, Brandon turned on a valve. Chuck examined the new joint carefully, watching for leaks. He found none. "Good enough. Let's get out of here."

Fred pulled the vent closed, then glanced through its slats. Satisfied that the LED was still blinking, he shinnied down the rope, paused to pull it free, and towed it away from the house and into the shrubs separating the Alpha property from the neighboring fraternity.

**********

The knock on the door awoke the Alpha men; after all, it was a Saturday, and they'd partied the night before. And they puzzled over the box the man left them; it had a return address from the national chapter. Dave rubbed his eyes and examined the letter. "I don't get it," he said over and over as he and the other Alphas examined the shipment of computer cameras. "But if national wants us to set up our computers with web cameras, I guess we do it." He examined one of the boxes carefully, and then dug out the contents, spilling the instructions on the floor. "Hey," he called irritably, "somebody get one of those computer geeks over here!"

**********

Around the campus, sounds of disbelief turned to ragged, then sustained cheering as e-mail messages were finally read. It was unbelievable; after all those years of being so snotty, the Alphas were going to hold an open party.

**********

"Okay, last time," Brandon said with a palpable sense of relief. "Only no bimbo settings." He turned back to the window and told the girl just what kind of passes the boys needed. It was still embarrassing, but it was now tolerable, given the plan that was rapidly coming to fruition.

**********

Dave was only slightly surprised when six very lovely girls showed up at the Alpha Sigma Sigma house on the night of the big party. Not only were they knockouts to look at, but they seemed a bit ditzy - perfect bimbos to help serve at the party. Their little sister sorority had promised to send some girls to help serve as hostesses; he just hadn't expected what he was now staring at. He smiled, stole one last glance down the cleavage of one, and invited them in to the house.

Brandon smiled to herself; as Brandy, she had the perfect cover to make sure the plan hatched well. Now, she was at the kitchen table, helping to mix the punch in an enormous punch bowl. Brandon glanced around, then reached under her skirt and retrieved a tiny remote. A quick button press caused the remote to display a flash of red.

Beneath the house, a wireless receiver got a specific signal. It responded by causing a surge of electricity to course through a solenoid, which opened a latching valve. A tiny trickle of water from Bikini Beach mixed in the cold water from the Alpha house plumbing.

Rob, passing herself off as Robbie, straightened up a pile of magazines, and smiled to herself as she spied the Playboy and Penthouse covers. She glanced around, then removed a tiny box from her skirt. She depressed a button, and was rewarded with a slow blinking light. She reached up and carefully placed the box atop a bookshelf, watching carefully to see where it was pointed. Then she smiled to herself and continued to help 'clean' the house for the expected guests.

**********

Guests were starting to arrive, and Dave was getting upset. Some of the other frats were coming; just where had they gotten the idea that they were welcome at this party? He stood, blocking the door, arguing with one of the Omegas, when one of the hostesses came up to him.

"I need a hand," Brandy whispered in his ear.

Dave glanced down, straight into her cleavage, and gulped. "I've got to watch the door," he said.

Brandy smiled and leaned up closer. "I really, really need some help. You see, I'm just getting so ... horny!" She struggled to sound as sexy and seductive as possible.

Dave felt his willy rising. He glanced at the guys standing on the porch, then back at the smiling blond with the huge tits. He turned to the guys on the porch. "You guys wait here. I'm going to ... um ... get something straightened out." He took Brandy's arm, and led her up the stairs.

As he opened his door, she batted her eyes at him. "Have you ever done it in the shower?" she said, licking her lips.

Dave needed no further urging. He turned and led her to the bathroom. Within seconds, he was stripped, and she was making a show of removing her clothing. With her panties on, and nothing else, she pushed him gently into the shower, following him and pulling the door shut. He turned on the water, then adjusted the shower head to spray both of them as he leaned into the kiss he was about to give the lovely girl.

Suddenly, Brandy started laughing. Dave straightened, and felt a bit disoriented. Something was wrong. He looked at the girl, and found himself staring straight into her eyes — somehow, he was shorter! And he saw long hair in his peripheral vision. He gasped, and Brandy laughed again.

In answer to his unspoken question, she pushed the shower door open and tugged Dave to the mirror. A gasp died in his throat as he saw — he was turning into a bimbo! A big-titted, blond-haired bimbo! Just like ... He started to curse. And then it hit him. The need. The uncontrollable, burning passion. He whimpered in a new, soft, sultry voice, his hands lifting to caress his large and still swelling tits.

Brandy smiled as she began to put her own clothes back on. "Don't worry, honey. There are plenty of men downstairs, just waiting to satisfy a girl like you."

**********

By ones and twos, the Alphas were led into their traps. Most of them had some punch, lured by the hostesses who just wanted someone to taste it to see if it was okay. A little flash of cleavage, a wiggle of a butt, and the guys were more than willing to help. A couple of the guys, like Dave, had to be lured into the shower to meet their doom. But within an hour, each and every Alpha was transformed into an incredibly horny, big-breasted blond nymphomaniac. As Brandy watched Dave struggling in a futile effort to pleasure herself, she finished adjusting her blouse, then reached into her skirt and pressed a button. Downstairs, hidden from view, a solenoid valve closed, and the water of Alpha house ran pure once more.

In the kitchen, Rob and Bert dumped the spiked punch, then hastily made a new batch from pure water, this one generously laced with alcohol from the Alphas' liquor cabinet. Then they joined the other four in the foyer. Brandon glanced at Rob, who glanced in turn around the whimpering bimbos. They nodded to each other and opened the door, letting all the other fraternity guys into the Alpha house for a party they would never forget.

**********

Back in Nerd Hall, Arnold sat down in front of her computer and typed in a few commands. For the next few hours, all the webcams and cameras they'd installed in the Alpha house would be viewed quite heavily. The hit counter started to rise, slowly at first, then with increasing speed as the site and its raw sexual content were discovered around the world. Arnold glanced at one of the windows; Dave, now a big-titted ultra nympho, was getting dorked by one guy while her head bobbed in the lap of another. Arnold checked again, and and smiled as she confirmed that the recorders were all running smoothly.

She wandered back to Brandon's room, grinning all the way and surprising some of the male residents who didn't expect to see such girls in this dorm. Inside, she gave a thumbs up.

"Cameras all working?"

Arnold smiled. "And the recorders." She nudged Fred. "That was a great idea to get them to install the webcams for us."

Fred grinned and shrugged. "Might as well let them do the dirty work." She took a sip of soda. "Between the fixed cameras, the web cams, and the portables, we've got just about every room in the house covered."

"And the ceiling cameras?"

Fred shrugged again. "We've got about as much directional control as I wanted. I wish the cameras had zoom, though. Still, they're getting great pictures."

Arnold couldn't help smiling. "Not only do we have good live video, but we're getting some great still pictures, too. And it's all on tape." He reached over and pressed a key, which opened a new window on the monitor. Displayed in very good resolution and full color was an image from one of the cameras. In this case, it happened to have some rather steamy group action. Arnold pressed another key, and the printer in the corner started to hum. "Presto — instant entertainment."

"But how long will the cameras stay hidden?" Bert asked, concerned about the ramifications when their little toys were discovered.

Chuck shrugged, ignoring the sensation of her boobs bouncing with the motion. After all that they'd done to get ready for this night, it might have been that she was getting used to it. It could also have been that she was savoring the moment too much to pay attention to a little thing like bouncing boobs. "Well, we know they're going to find the portables. Not that it'll do them any good; I doubt anyone in _that_ frat is smart enough to realize they're wireless, let alone search for the relay."

Fred smiled. "But they'll never find the fixed cameras. With the fiber-optics, the holes are so small that I'd be surprised if they find them before the house is torn down."

Chuck couldn't help grinning. "And the proceeds from the Alpha's little sex show are going to a good cause. The city shelter for abused women needs the help. Thanks to Arnold, the shelter won't be able to trace the contributions back to the porn site. Somehow, I think if they knew how they got the money, they wouldn't want it." She held up her hand, and got high fives all around. Then she got a silly grin on her face. "I guess the Alpha Sigma Sigma house is more like the Piece of ASS house tonight." The bad pun brought groans from the assembled girls.

Rob grinned without taking his eyes from the monitor. "It's worth having to be in these bodies for another few hours, just so we can watch the Alphas."

Arnold got a far-off look for a moment. "What's the range on the transmitter for the valve?"

Chuck's eyes widened, then she grinned, instantly realizing what Arnold was thinking. "I can always put a power amp on it if needed. You thinking what I'm thinking?"

Arnold grinned. "As long as there's some water left in the injector tank..."

The rest of the gang started laughing. "Whenever we want, we can change an Alpha or two into some nightly entertainment."

After the laughter died down, Brandon sat back, taking a big sip of her cola. "Guys ... er, girls, we've done it." She hoisted her cola. "Here's to revenge." She turned back to the monitor, smiling as she saw another of the Alphas begging for attention from one of the visiting frat boys.

**********

The old woman sauntered back into the office, her face looking a little more tanned. Anya turned her head from the books and smiled. "So how was the trade show?" she asked.

The old woman smiled. "Good show this year. And how were things around here?"

Anya gulped, and knew that her grandmother had sensed her hesitation. "Not a lot, really."

The old woman looked surprised. "Oh? Not even the guys using the water from the park to get revenge on the Alpha fraternity?"

Anya gulped again. "Well, yeah. That happened."

The old woman looked impassive. "And you didn't detect it?" Anya looked down; she'd been caught. "Actually, you did. And you let it happen anyway, right?"

Anya nodded slowly. "Those guys have been using the park for their nefarious deeds for quite a while now. I just thought it was time for someone to get a bit of revenge on them."

The old woman smiled. "So did I. And you know that the nerds are giving the money to a good charity. So I guess, all's well in the end."

FIN

The boys in the gym-dorm need to find better housing. They come up with an ingenious plan — if they can convince people to let them have a go at it.

This story is copyright by the author. It is protected by licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Bertie leaned forward in his chair, his elbow resting on his knee, and his chin in his hand. Like a hawk studying its prey, he stared intently at the chessboard. From the layout of the pieces, it was getting late in the game, and it was still pretty even. Across the table, Brandon, one of his two roommates, reclined lazily in his chair. He seemed to be unaware of the game, even though he had fought Bert to this standoff. "Well, are you going to move?" Brandon asked easily. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at the other guys in the room and gave them a grin.

Bert looked up briefly, through a dark scowl. "Yes, yes. Don't become impatient now." His words echoed with the sound of his British upbringing, an oddity in this dorm room.

Robert, the third roommate, grabbed a handful of chips from a large bowl. "Any of you guys have a date last night?"

All four young men in the room turned on him, their faces expressing their displeasure. Besides Bert and Brandon, their friends Chuck and Arnold were in the room, relaxing on a late Saturday morning. All five of them were nerds; in fact, all the residents of their dorm were considered nerds. Because of dorm overcrowding, they'd been put in a makeshift dorm, constructed in the dilapidated old gymnasium. It had been slated for demolition, but the housing needs gave it a reprieve, and the interior was fitted with 'temporary' rooms, rather like office cubicles but with a smidgeon more privacy. There were now forty men remaining in the gym, and with as much space as it had, it was really quite comfortable. But it was informally known on campus as "Nerd Hall", and one of the fraternities had spray-painted that label on the outside.

Arnold snorted his disgust at Robert's question. "Are you kidding?" he snapped. "The only time we get any dates is after we go to..."

Chuck's hand clamped over Arnold's mouth. "Quiet," he hissed. The unspoken words were the secret of these five men. He glanced at the closed door; even in a private room, the secret was not to be discussed too openly.

Robert sighed, and then he nodded slowly. "That's what I thought," he said solemnly.

Arnold pried Chuck's hand off his mouth. "So why'd you bring it up?" he muttered. "To remind us we're all nerds?"

Rob shook his head. "Nope." He looked thoughtfully at the ceiling for a moment. "Any of you guys catch the frat parties last night?"

Brandon turned toward his best friend; the first question had been annoying, but this one was getting insulting. "No, and you know that, too. They're by invitation only — to girls." He glanced around the room and saw the nods of agreement.

Rob smiled enigmatically. "Yes, I know." He munched a chip, then leaned back. "But I went."

Brandon's eyes narrowed. "But they're for..." His eyes widened suddenly.

"Bikini Beach," Chuck said in a hushed voice.

"You didn't," Bert said hopefully, eyeing Rob cautiously.

Rob grinned. "I did."

"And?" Chuck's curiosity was piqued. He spoke for all. And the unspoken question was what had happened. The fraternities had a reputation for wooing the ladies — and if necessary, getting them totally smashed so they could take advantage of them.

Rob glared at Chuck for a millisecond. "And nothing." He knew what Chuck was asking. "They tried, and they failed."

Bert looked up from the chessboard. "So why didn't you tell me? I would have enjoyed the party."

Rob grinned sideways at Chuck. "Every time you change into a girl, you pick something really sexy, and with that accent, you're a magnet for every guy within miles." He laughed. "I was busy enough keeping paws off me to have time to defend your honor, too." He turned back toward Brandon. "You know why those guys have parties like that?"

Brandon stared at Rob for a second, then he started to smile. "Because they're a fraternity, and they have a fraternity house."

"So?" Arnold glanced between the two, not having caught on.

Chuck had, though. "So, kid, if we were to get chartered as a fraternity, then we could have our own house, and we could host our own parties." He enjoyed emphasizing to Arnold that he was the old man of the group; unlike the others, Chuck had served a hitch in the Navy prior to coming to college. Chuck turned to Rob. "So you got any idea how we do that, hotshot? Or should I say, hot pants?" He gave Brandon a sideways grinning glance and elbowed him in the ribs, chuckling over his reference to Rob's recent status.

Rob ignored the jibe. "At least I got free drinks last night."

Bert looked thoughtful for a moment. "I thought I was dreaming that I heard a girl moaning in passion. I guess I was wrong." He glanced at Rob, deadpan. "You really need to learn to control your moaning when you pleasure yourself, dear chap." He looked back at the chessboard, ignoring the scowl from Rob. Chuck and Arnold laughed aloud, and Brandon tried to keep still, only to giggle uncontrollably.

Rob waited, red-faced, until they were mostly done laughing. "Are you through?" He waited until Brandon calmed himself and nodded.

"Okay," Brandon said, wiping a tear from his eye. "So how do we get to be a fraternity?"

"It's a two-step process. This university doesn't charter local fraternities — only chapters of national frats. So we need to get a national sponsor."

Chuck looked thoughtful for a moment. "Okay, so there are what — hundreds of fraternities? That shouldn't be too much of a problem. What else?"

Rob grimaced. "We have to get a house. The university requires a fraternity house for all charters."

Arnold shrugged. "That shouldn't be tough. There are lots of houses on the market around here. We should be able to find something to suit us."

Rob shook his head. "No good. They require that we have a house on-campus."

**********

Dean Howard Livingstone sat imperiously in his chair, staring across the vast desk at the nerds with obvious disdain. "You want to do what?" he asked, as if a second hearing would confirm the absurd request.

Brandon glanced nervously at Rob, then he swallowed. "We'd like to apply to form a fraternity," he said meekly.

Dean Livingstone stared at the boys for a long time. He was enjoying himself as he watched them squirm. His commanding presence, in this throne of his power, intimidated them. Finally, he opened his mouth. "Are you aware that there are two requirements for the formation of a new fraternity?" he asked impatiently.

Rob swallowed nervously. "Yes, sir," he answered in a squeaky voice. "A national sponsor and a house."

Dean Livingstone glared at Rob, which made him swallow and cower in his chair. "I see you've done your homework." He sat back, steepling his fingers and staring at the boys for several long awkward seconds. "There aren't any available houses," he finally announced.

Brandon glanced at Rob, then mustered his courage. "Yes, sir, we know. And we also know that we could build a house if property on campus were available." He glanced at Rob again to reassure himself. "The vacant lot between the tennis courts and..."

Dean Livingstone snapped forward, his elbows banging noisily on the desk. "That lot is the site of the new recreation center," he said in a booming, impatient voice. "For our fraternities and sororities," he added cruelly. He leaned back again. "So you see, boys, there really isn't any way you can get a house. Or a fraternity." He spun his chair away from the desk, rudely dismissing the boys.

**********

"Why not?" Chuck was addressing the entire gathering of 'nerds' in the gym, assembled to hear the news. Despite the conspiracy of silence among the five ringleaders, word of the plan had leaked, and had been the subject of endless whisperings and low conversations. After the rude dismissal from the Dean's office, they'd had to convene the group to break the bad news.

Brandon wrinkled his nose. "It just wouldn't work..." he began. He was trying to figure out how to phrase his objections, and he glanced at Rob, his best friend, for reinforcement. He was disappointed; Rob sat impassively, his mind obviously racing as he considered what Chuck had proposed. He glanced around the room, and saw the guys murmuring, discussing Chuck's outlandish idea. Finally, he turned back. "Okay, let's hear some more details." As if by magic, the low private conversations died, leaving a stunning silence in the room.

Chuck smiled. "Okay, let's lay out the facts. First, to be a fraternity, we need a house. Second, it has to be on campus. Third, the only suitable site on campus is reserved for a recreation facility. Fourth, we are in a temporary dorm that used to be a gym, and is slated — someday — for demolition."

A squeaky voice piped up from the back of the crowd. "Why don't we just have them demolish the gym and build a house here?"

Chuck started to answer, but Rob interrupted him. "Because it would leave the administration with a housing shortage. They're legally obligated to provide housing for us, but during the demolition and construction, there wouldn't be enough housing. We'd be on the streets, and they'd be liable."

Brandon glanced at Rob, and realized that his position was suddenly untenable. If Rob was behind this idea, it was only because he'd been convinced by the facts. Brandon considered the data. Was it possible? He quickly sorted the facts, and came to the startling conclusion that it was not only possible, but might be the preferable option. "I think we ought to go for it," he said with an air of finality.

Rob glanced at his roomie and smiled. "Look, this building has a lot going for it. To start with, it's here. It has all the facilities we'd need, and more. The office side would make good rooms. The gym would make a really nice hall. The concession area is big enough to be a kitchen. There's enough room to make a good computer lab. And the west wing has a pool." He grinned toward Brandon. "Can you imagine the girls that would show up for a pool party?"

Brandon nodded enthusiastically. "This could be the best house on campus!"

Arnold started to smile, but a frown crept over his features. "But if this place is supposed to be torn down, then there must be some problems. We're going to have to deal with those." He held up his fingers. "First," he said, closing one finger, "the plumbing is in bad shape. Any one who's tried to take a hot shower can tell you that. Second," he closed another, "The roof has some pretty serious leaks. Third," another finger, "unless you're deaf, you know that the heating system is squeaking and rattling. Fourth," he started to close another finger.

Chuck held up his hand to cut off Arnold. "Okay, so there are some problems. We don't know the extent of them." Chuck smiled grimly. "So what we need to do is to get the engineering report on the building to see what problems we'd have to deal with."

Bert felt his heart sink. "And if we ask for it, they'll know we're planning something. Remember, chaps, that the Dean was not very polite to us."

Murmured conversations erupted, low-volume whispers of acknowledgment and disappointment. Brandon felt the power as the group's mood changed instantly from cheer to hopelessness. The visit with Dean Livingstone had left a dark impression on him, and now it seemed that Bert was right.

Rob smiled, and one by one, the others in the room noticed his ray of hope in their sea of depression. One by one, the boys fell silent, wondering what Rob had up his sleeve. Finally, Brandon noticed and turned to see Rob's enigmatic smile. His brow furrowed in puzzlement.

"Okay, that's true. So here's what we're going to do." The crowd moved closer, and Rob began to outline his plan.

**********

Rob walked nervously toward the ticket booth with one of the other guys from the gym in tow. The guy, a nerdish looking lad of eighteen, was nervous. "So how are we going to get the blueprints and reports?" he asked for perhaps the hundredth time. "What does this place have to do with our job?"

Rob smiled to himself. "Patience, Tim, patience. You'll understand soon enough." He stepped to the window.

"Hi, Rob," a nice-looking brunette called down from the window. "Haven't seen you for a while." She was smiling pleasantly at the two boys.

Rob smiled. "Hi, Anya. This is my friend Tim."

Anya smiled pleasantly. "Hi, Tim. Welcome to Bikini Beach." She turned back to Rob. "So what'll it be today? The usual?" She glanced at Tim and sensed his nervousness. Then she sensed something from Rob. "Ah, I see." She smiled enigmatically. "It's a good plan. How can we help?"

Rob's jaw started to drop. "How...?" Then he nodded slowly. "Magic." He chuckled to himself as he shook his head. "I keep forgetting you can do that."

"What?" Tim asked, confused. He hadn't known about Bikini Beach, or Anya's magic, and now he was getting a lesson. He was understandably puzzled.

Rob smiled meekly. "We've got to try to get some documents, and we need some cover."

"Hmm," Anya mumbled, staring into the distance. "You know, it should work." She turned back to Rob. "So do you want the usual?"

Rob blushed, then shook his head. "No, we need something a little more...curvy. Eye candy, if you know what I mean."

Anya laughed softly. "I think I know just what you want." She took Rob's money and handed him a pair of tickets. "This should do the trick." Rob turned, guiding the confused Tim by the arm. "Oh, Rob," Anya called after him, "Grandmother asked me to tell you that she was impressed by how you guys handled the Alphas."

As Rob walked toward the turnstile with Tim at his heels, it was his turn to be confused. How had Anya and her grandmother known about their revenge on the Alpha Sigma Sigma fraternity? They hadn't told anyone.

**********

Chuck, being the oldest and a veteran, led the delegation. Brandon and another kid rounded out the group. Without a word among them, they strode deliberately toward the physical plant, the heart of the campus' facilities management. Chuck paused at the door, glanced across a street, and nodded. Then the group marched into the office. Chuck walked to the secretary and paused, waiting for her to look up. When she did, her expression changed from mild annoyance at being disturbed to outright disdain. "Yes," she asked, making no effort to mask her feelings toward the nerds.

Chuck didn't let the young woman's attitude faze him. "We have an appointment with the director," he answered evenly. He smiled pleasantly at the young lady; she was a modestly attractive girl of perhaps twenty, and Chuck contemplated the odds of getting her to go out with him. He didn't like the result; she was a work-study student, and probably belonged to one of the 'in' sororities.

The girl looked at them and then she pressed an intercom button and announced them. Moments later, the director emerged from his tiny office to greet them. "I understand you have some problems," he said, skipping the formalities.

Chuck glanced at his compatriots, then back at the director. The guy was one of them; he was an engineer by training, Chuck decided. He might be willing to help — but then Chuck decided against the direct approach. No sense taking any chances. "Yes," Chuck answered after a momentary pause. "We have some problems with the plumbing in the showers, and the HVAC system isn't cooling very well."

As he sat down behind his desk, the director frowned. "Well, it's an old building, and it isn't supposed to be a dorm." His excuse was lame, he knew it, and he didn't expect the boys to believe it. But it was the answer he'd been directed to give to any complaints about the gym. "So what do you need?"

Chuck nodded, noting the unease in the director's eyes. "Well, I was thinking that if we could trace the plumbing, we could maybe isolate where the problems were and avoid using those areas. It's not ideal, but at least it would give us something that worked."

The director's eyes narrowed; despite outward appearances, this young man was sharp. "That sounds like..."

Chuck smiled sheepishly. "...Navy damage control. Yes sir, I spent four years as a soundman on a boomer." He referred to the Navy term for a missile submarine.

The director's eyes lit up. "I did a tour as an engineering officer," he said proudly, having found a connection. "Aboard a destroyer."

Chuck grinned. "Skimmer," he said wistfully, referring again to a Navy term, this time for surface ships. "We had a word for your type of vessel."

The director knew the joke. "Targets," he answered with a smile. Then he glanced at the other two young men. "Okay, so you want to see if you can isolate the problems, right?"

Chuck smiled. The Navy connection had been unexpected, and could really be helpful. "Yeah. Do you think we can have a look at the plans and reports?"

The director thought for a brief second. "Normally this is against policy, but I don't think it would hurt. Especially if it helps fix some problems and lightens _our_ workload." He rose and walked toward the back of the building, followed closely by Chuck and the others.

As they walked through the outer office, Chuck noticed two very well endowed girls talking to the secretary. Their short skirts didn't do much to conceal their shapely legs, and both wore low-cut blouses. Their more-than-ample bosoms threatened to spill out of the necklines, displaying more than a little cleavage. Chuck gave the girls a quick wink, and one of them nodded in return. The other, though, seemed more than a bit disoriented. Chuck laughed to himself as they went into the back room.

Chaos. That's what they were led into. Organized chaos. The 'back room' was a large open room full of desks, drafting tables, and row upon row of file cabinets. It was the brain of the physical plant, the drafting and planning and archive room, all rolled into one. Here, plans were made, drawings created, construction supervised, and all the paperwork saved for future use. A few engineers and draftsmen darted about, scanning drawings, making notes, and generally milling about the room. Chuck swallowed; this was going to be tricky. It was all going to depend on timing.

The director led them to a mostly empty drafting table, then started to collect diagrams and drawings. Chuck and the director were deeply engrossed in a discussion over the plumbing when the receptionist led the two girls back.

The sound in the room came to a halt. The men stopped mid-stride. All heads snapped to stare at the two girls who entered the room and were led to the director.

The director slowly straightened, then tore his gaze away from the bounteous cleavage in front of himself. "Can I help you?" he asked, his voice squeaking.

One girl giggled, and the other one smiled very pleasantly. "Yeah. Like we're in the architecture department, and, like, the teacher said we're supposed to get some drawings of our house, you know?"

The other girl giggled again. "We're in the Delta house, you know, and we'd like to see if you could show us some of the blueprints and stuff?" The two sounded completely like bimbos, suited to their general appearance.

The men leaned forward anxiously, waiting a cue to help out. The Delta house was not only populated by bombshells like these two, but it had a reputation of being very friendly. The director finally nodded. "I guess we can help you girls out," he said with a smile. He let his gaze drift down to the cleavage again. Around him, the room erupted in bedlam. Every man present, from the youngest engineer to the crustiest old codger, tripped over each other in a rush to retrieve documents to help out these two girls. Coincidently, they would get an eyeful of impressive cleavage or a close-up of a shapely derriere. Documents were hastily retrieved as the men fought to curry the favor of the two sexy girls. An imposing pile of documents hastily grew on the table as print after print appeared.

One of the girls leaned over the table, staring at one of the blueprints. Every eye in the room tracked the cleavage as her huge knockers dangled down, emphasizing even more her bountiful bosom which threatened to spring forth from her meager blouse. And as the other one leaned forward as well, her well-rounded ass bumped another table, spilling documents, pencils, and coffee all over the floor. "Oh, like I'm so sorry," she apologized hastily as she bent forward even more to gather the papers from the floor. If she had deliberately bent to reveal her panties and shapely bottom, she couldn't have done it better; she seemed to be making absolutely no effort to conceal her body or undies from the room of lustful men.

All eyes tracked her butt as she bent forward, and a few guys scrambled to the floor to help the poor girl. The director himself tripped over his own tongue as he apologized to the girls, as if he had been the cause of the mess.

Chuck just watched the show, a combination of comedy and sex, and shook his head. After watching the chaos for a few minutes, Chuck tapped the director on the shoulder. "I think I know where we start. Thanks."

The director stared at him for a moment, then glanced at the girl bent over the table. "Oh, yeah. No problem." He dismissed Chuck and the others from his mind, concentrating instead on the lovely round ass of the girl at the table, his mind full of naughty thoughts of what he'd like to do. He didn't even notice Chuck and the two others leave the office.

**********

All eyes were riveted on Chuck as the trio entered the gym. "Well?" Bert finally asked, the question that had been on everyone's mind.

Chuck glanced at Brandon and grinned wickedly. He pulled his shirt up and retrieved a large folded up wad of papers from his waist. Slowly, he unfolded the papers, displaying the blueprints and reports. Brandon and the other kid did the same. By the time they finished sorting, they had nearly every document the physical plant had about the old gym, including engineering reports, blueprints, wiring and plumbing diagrams, and even the cost projections for refurbishing and demolishing the structure.

"Bingo," Arnold said with a grin as he looked at the huge wad of papers. Just then, the doors opened again, and a pair of girls strode in. One walked confidently, while the other acted nervous. Both were dressed in skimpy outfits that revealed all their curves, especially their ample bosoms. They were the two girls from the physical plant.

Chuck walked over to the girls. His face was unreadable at first, but then a huge grin broke out. "Beautiful," he boomed, grasping the hand of the first girl.

The second girl was getting more nervous, startled by all the guys gawking at her. She retreated behind her partner, fear on her face.

One of the guys tapped Chuck on the shoulder. "Who are these girls?" he asked, not sure why Chuck was acting like he was, nor why two gorgeous girls were in the nerd dorm.

Chuck turned, beaming. "Guys, we told you we'd have some, uh, distractions, right?" The guys nodded, not understanding, confused by the knowing looks on Bert, Brandon, Chuck, and Arnold's faces. "Well, these two were our distraction." He beamed at Arnold. "You should have seen it. They were perfect! No one saw us take the prints — they were staring at our accomplices."

The first girl stepped forward, half bowing, smiling. "No problem at all, Chuck."

The second girl stood awkwardly, however, a pout on her face. "Big problem, Rob," she said in a sexy contralto voice. "We're still girls! And I don't like it!"

The first girl sighed. "Remember it's only until the middle of the night, Tim," she said, sounding like she'd repeated that phrase dozens of times. "It's not permanent."

The murmurs were getting loud; Brandon turned to the guys and caught their confused stares. He lowered his head slightly, laughing to himself, understanding the perplexed stares. After a moment, he looked up. "Okay, guys," he said with a smile. "I guess it's time to let you in on a little secret." He put an arm around Rob's very feminine shoulder and the other around Tim's. "These two girls are really Tim and Rob."

"No way!" was the loud reaction. Other voices joined the protest. "Come on! Quit kidding!" "Bullshit!"

Brandon waited for a moment, and then he held up his hands, gesturing for silence. "Rob?"

Rob smiled, a pretty white-toothed smile on a pretty face. "True, guys. It's really me." He twirled to display the shapely body and gestured to his assistant. "And this is really Tim."

"Yeah, right!" Another round of disbelief.

Rob shook her head, causing cascades of platinum blond hair to swirl about her face. "You guys ever heard of a place called Bikini Beach?" A few had, and so indicated. "Well, it's a haven for girls. And the way they do it is by magically changing guys into girls."

More sounds of disbelief, louder than before, echoed. After all, these guys were nerds, scientifically and mathematically, and the concept of magic was not exactly something they could easily accept.

Brandon knew what he had to do. "Okay, if you don't believe us, maybe a demonstration is in order." He dashed to his room and retrieved a squirt bottle, leaving a muttering crowd wondering what he was up to. In seconds, Brandon was back. "How about a volunteer?"

One of the most vocal dissenters, a loudmouth named Larry, was roughly pushed forward. "Okay, I'll let you squirt me," he grumbled. "And then we can stop this bullshit magic talk."

Brandon glanced at Rob, shrugged through his smile, and began to spritz Larry. Within seconds, gasps of astonishment echoed through the crowd. Like flowing water, cascades of hair spilled off Larry's head, growing longer and lighter with each second. Larry noticed the hair, and he swatted at it, and then he paused, his mouth open in shock, as he spied his hands. Not only were they finer, but they were continuing to reshape, getting more feminine even as the nails grew and took on the red hue of fresh nail enamel.

"Holy shit!" "Wow!" "What the hell?" "Is this for real?" The voices of disbelief changed instantly to shock and wonder as the guys watched one of their own transforming into a woman.

Larry's hands shot to his chest as he felt a swelling; his delicate hands cupped foreign and strange objects on his chest. "What's happening to me?" he wailed, surprising himself as he heard his voice changing, becoming higher in pitch and softer. And while he spoke, his clothes joined in the transformation; his T-shirt changed into a crop-top scoop-necked blouse, while his pants rapidly shortened, exposing smooth curvy female legs as they became very short shorts. Ratty old tennis shoes morphed into high-heeled pumps.

"Wow!" "Larry, you've got tits!" "This is incredible!"

Larry glanced down at his still-swelling chest, and then looked up at Brandon in horror. "I'm turning into a girl!" he cried.

Brandon shrugged. "I told you." He glanced around the room. "Now you guys believe me?" Brandon glanced at Rob, smiling. Then he saw Rob's eyes widening. He glanced back at Larry. "Oh, shit!" He glanced at the bottle and winced.

Rob looked at the bottle again. "Tell me that isn't the same stuff we used on the Alphas," he said in a soft voice.

Brandon grimaced. "I'm afraid it is."

Rob turned back toward Larry, worry clouding her features. "That's what I was afraid of."

A hush had dropped over the onlookers. All eyes were riveted on Larry, who seemed to be oblivious of the crowd. Larry had pulled off his blouse, and was eagerly cupping one breast, delicate fingers playing with an erect nipple, while the other hand had slipped down into his shorts. His soft feminine eyes were half closed as he publicly played with his new sex, totally self-absorbed in an overpowering lust. Larry was unaware that he was putting on a strip and sex show to a dorm full of guys, nerds who normally never saw such things.

Rob glanced at Tim, whose eyes were fearful. Tim leaned closer. "Is this going to happen to me?"

Rob shook her head. "No. I had Anya tone your libido way down, so you should be okay." Tim's countenance lightened considerably, as if reprieved from a death sentence.

**********

It was late when Chuck convened the entire dorm. Rob and Tim, still transformed, sat quietly; Rob had wrapped his sexy body in a robe to conceal it. Tim, a first-time changee, hadn't thought of that, and so he sat self-consciously, glancing around often to see if anyone was staring at him, which, of course, they were.

"Okay, guys," Chuck said finally. He and Brandon sat at a table, the large pile of pilfered papers and drawings in front of them. "We've gone over this stuff, and it looks feasible." His talk was interrupted by loud moans of female pleasure.

Brandon sighed heavily. "Could one of you guys go tell Larry to shut up?" The noise was very distracting. Three guys sprang to their feet and scrambled toward Larry's room. The noise stopped almost instantly, but none of the guys came back.

Chuck stared after the guys and shook his head slowly. The entire afternoon had been like that. Larry had become an insatiable nymphomaniac, and some of these guys had gotten their first experience at sex with the sex-crazed bimbo. He'd have to remember to get rid of that squirt bottle before it caused more problems.

"Okay, here's where we stand. The building was supposed to be razed, but the administration hadn't decided what to put here. Most likely, it was going to be a vacant lot." He picked up his PDA and peered at it for a moment. "Here's the rundown. Structurally, the building is in very good shape. The roof needs to be replaced, but that's normal wear, not because of a major problem. The plumbing is old and needs to be reworked. Electrical — it's in good shape. The pool needs to be replastered, and the tile in the showers and rest rooms needs to be replaced. The ductwork is in pretty bad shape; it probably needs to be completely reworked. The air conditioner is shot, and the furnace is in bad shape. It's a coal burner, and needs to be replaced." He examined the data more closely. "The floor tiling is all asbestos-based, and needs to be removed and cleaned up." He looked up from the PDA. "But on the bright side, if there wasn't a new gym, the physical plant report says that it would be cost-effective to rehabilitate this building."

Brandon nodded with a smile. "Our architects here," he pointed to Tim and Rob, still girls, "have done an estimate of what customizing we'd have to do. We also checked to see what value the administration is carrying on the building. It's old, so it's mostly depreciated. Factoring all that in," he took Chuck's PDA and fiddled with it a bit, "it turns out to be pretty cost competitive to lease the building and convert it." Cheers erupted around the room. This was going well.

Brandon finally held up his hands to quiet the room. "Okay, so we've maybe found a house. Maybe. We've got to convince the administration to sell or lease it to us, and then get a loan."

Rob smiled grimly. "And then we have to get a national fraternity to sponsor us."

Bert stood and stepped forward. "I've got some news to report on that issue." He pulled out his own PDA and selected a data page. "Two fraternities have responded positively. Well," he winced, "they weren't outright rejections." He looked again. "One is the Chi Omega fraternity. They were founded as a social fraternity. The membership seems to be mostly jocks." Boos and catcalls greeted that last piece of news. "The other is the Nu Rho Delta fraternity. They're a new professional fraternity, with a focus on sciences." His report spurred a chorus of pleasantly surprised comments, and he waited like a trained thespian for the crowd to settle down. He smiled, tucked away his PDA, and took his seat.

Brandon rose. "Okay, it sounds like we're all in agreement? We'll talk to the Nu Rho Delta fraternity and apply for membership?" A scream of pure feminine pleasure interrupted the cheers of acceptance, giving rise to laughter among the guys. Laughter, and some wistful looks as they wondered whether Larry would be a sexual plaything long enough for them to get another turn.

**********

Equipped with acceptance from the Nu Rho Delta fraternity, the gang sat at a table before a special meeting of the intra-fraternity council. Due to the special nature of the proposal, several administrators and part of the faculty council were also present. Brandon, by acclamation, was selected to make the presentation, and he now stood, holding a remote control. He was about halfway into the presentation, having already outlined their acceptance by the Nu Rho Deltas. Now, he was explaining the plans to refurbish the old gym into a fraternity house. He was in the middle of a computer-generated graphical walkthrough of the design, showing how the office space would become rooms.

Chuck saw a movement from the corner of his eye, and he turned in time to see the athletic director lean toward Dean Livingstone. It was well known that the athletic director, Coach Varney, was the advisor to the Alpha fraternity. Chuck swallowed. This could mean trouble.

It came. The dean rose and interrupted. "Yes, well, I think we've seen enough here," he pronounced. "And it was a fine presentation. But unfortunately, I don't see how it fits the needs of the university at this time. Thank you." He sat and turned to one of the faculty members, dismissing Brandon rudely as he began another conversation.

Chuck rose. "Excuse me, Dean. You haven't even seen the financial projections, let alone how this will financially benefit..."

Coach Varney rose, his face flushing crimson. "The Dean said that was enough, you little shit! Can't you hear?" He was leaning forward, his clenched fists resting lightly on the table threateningly.

The meeting started to break up at the Dean's announcement. Small groups of fraternity and sorority representatives began to leave; a few of the groups actually looked sympathetically toward the gym nerds, but most sneered with a distinctive snobbish attitude. Brandon just slumped in his chair and began to pack up his laptop computer. He felt as if the wind had been taken from his sails; their big chance to sell this idea had been snatched from them. But why? That part didn't make any sense.

Chuck nudged Brandon. "Something's fishy here," he whispered, nodding toward the dean's table.

Brandon glanced and saw the dean and the athletic director. "I knew the dean didn't like us, but what's up with the AD?"

Chuck frowned. "He's the advisor to the Alphas," he hissed. "So that makes two enemies."

Brandon nodded. "And it looks like they pretty much control this council." He sighed. "So what are we...?" He stopped, and his eyes narrowed. He nudged Chuck. "On the floor."

Chuck followed Brandon's gaze. His eyes widened, and then a devious smile crept across his face. "Looks like one of Arnold's toys." A tiny, silver, robotic spider crept slowly across the floor, stopping at the dean's leg. It flexed and resumed its travel up the leg of the dean's trousers, too small and light to be noticed by the dean. The two young men sat at the table for a long while, watching to see what happened. Then the spider crept back into view. Still, it kept moving, this time toward the AD's foot. Once more, it made a journey upward, and then crawled back to the floor.

A few moments later, Arnold came to the table. "Let's go," he said insistently to Chuck and Brandon. The trio quickly left the council room.

In the hall, Chuck stopped Arnold. "What was that about?"

Arnold pulled a hand from his pocket, the tiny silver spider in his palm. "Fido planted bugs on the dean and the coach." He pulled out another tiny gizmo, a radio receiver with a digital recorder. "Let's get back to the dorm so we can see what they're up to."

**********

"Are you sure about this?" Brandon's voice betrayed his concern. Not only was this mission dangerous, but it would be personally humiliating as well.

Rob straightened, making his large boobs jiggle. Blushing, he clasped them to stop the swaying, and then looked up. He smiled. "Yeah, but I want combat pay." Rob's form was that of a very voluptuous blond bombshell, even curvier than the disguise he'd had for the physical plant caper. "Look, you heard those two. They aren't going to let us in if we play by their rules. So it's time to change the rules."

Tim blushed and smiled. He was unaware that he was cupping one of his very large boobs; the mission required a heightened libido, and he'd probably overdone it. Tim's body was even curvier than Rob's; he'd told Anya to make him a knockout, and she'd used his mental image to comply. Now he had to live with the consequences for the next day and a half. "Let's go get this over with," Tim said in a squeaky soprano voice. He couldn't help sounding like a bimbo thanks to Anya's magic.

"You got the gear?" Chuck asked, worried about this mission.

Rob patted his purse. "Wireless web cams, mikes, and a still camera." Over his shoulder, Rob carried a duffel bag full of other supplies, special little party favors for their encounters.

Brandon clasped Rob's hand. "Good luck." For the briefest of moments, he had very colorful thoughts of what he'd rather that Rob and Tim do right now, but he suppressed them. This mission was too important for him to be distracted by a very interesting fantasy.

The two girls turned, their short skirts flaring around their round sexy derrieres, their large bosoms swaying and jiggling. With a wiggle to their hips, they strutted out of the gym. From the high heels to the miniskirts, from the tight blouses to the low neckline, the girls were designed and clad as advertisements for sex.

With heads swiveling to track their every move, the two girls sauntered toward the gym. For nearly an hour, they strutted around, making a show of watching the athletes training and oohing and aahing at the muscular physiques. Finally, the athletic director came out of his office; it was late, and the gym was starting to get deserted. It didn't take much to convince him that the two girls wouldn't mind some company for the evening, and he was eager to volunteer his services.

As he drove them toward his house, he didn't notice the van following at a discrete distance. He led the two girls into the house and poured himself a drink, offering the same to the girls. Tim accepted a glass of wine, but Rob turned him down. One of them had to have a clear head.

It didn't take long for the coach to put the moves on. He had Tim sitting on his lap and was fondling a large breast while he nibbled on Tim's ear. As Tim began to respond, Rob slipped around the room, stealthily extracting bits and pieces of electronic gear and flipping them on. That accomplished, Rob turned and saw that Tim was now bare-bosomed, with the coach's face plastered between his large melons.

"Are you as horny as I am?" Tim asked in a bedroom voice. The coach looked up and nodded vigorously.

Rob sat down on the coach's other leg. "How do you like games?" Rob asked, trying to sound seductive.

"Games?" the coach gulped, prying his face from Tim's cleavage.

Rob smiled. "Just a little dress-up and naughtiness," he said, licking his full pouty lips. The coach gulped, and nodded vigorously as he felt Tim stroking his dick. He was in no position to refuse these two sex kittens.

Rob's idea of dress-up was a French Maid costume for the coach, which he willingly donned as Tim gave him a blowjob. Then Rob put on a dominatrix outfit. As Tim bent over the couch, accepting the coach from the rear, Rob lashed him. He cried in pain, but continued to try to service Tim. Again, Rob lashed him, and he screamed in delight. Then as he bent forward, Rob put on a huge strap-on. Suddenly, the coach felt something at his rear, and before he could protest, it began to force itself painfully into his rear. He turned, and Rob whipped him with a riding crop, calling him a naughty boy. He whimpered, and turned away from Rob. Painfully at first, Rob pumped the huge dildo in and out of the coach's rear. He squealed with pleasure as he shot his load into Tim, his excitement heightened by the internal stimulation of his anus.

The games continued, with the girls taking turns commanding the meek little maid to crawl on his knees and service them. He played the game willingly and perfectly, and finally collapsed into a dreamy sleep, exhausted and spent. Tim and Rob gathered up their gear, leaving the coach in the maid costume, and slipped out of his house. The van was at the curb to meet them. As Rob crawled in, he turned to Chuck. "Get it?" he asked, trying not to sound so sultry and sexy, which was difficult with the voice Anya had given him.

Chuck felt his erect prick and swallowed. It had been difficult to concentrate, hearing the sounds and seeing the images of the two sexy girls doing the coach. Somehow, he'd managed, but he felt like he was about to explode. "Great pictures," he answered. He turned away quickly, rubbing his crotch almost painfully.

**********

"How can I help you girls?" The dean was all smiles, gazing as he was at the luscious curves of Tim and Rob.

Rob glanced at Tim, and then licked her lips. "Well you see, Dean, some of the boys at the Tri-Gamma house have been pestering us. They won't leave us alone."

Tim tried to look helpless. "They keep saying that we're tramps, and stuff like that." He wiggled his top slightly, setting his boobs jiggling. "They're kind of mean."

The dean gave them a friendly smile. "You know we don't tolerate sexual harassment on this campus," he said proudly, hoping to impress the girls with a protective air. "It's my job to investigate these type of affairs...er, matters, and make sure that anyone guilty is punished."

Rob put on a big pout. "And one of them gave me this!" He was pointing to his leg, more specifically, to his inner thigh. The dean couldn't see. Rob looked up and saw the dean craning his neck to look over his desk. Rob giggled. "Silly me, of course you can't see from over there!" He rose and walked around the desk, then hiked up her skirt. There, on the inside of her thigh, was a large bite mark.

The dean glanced at the mark, then up at Rob's pretty face, then back at the bite mark. Little did he know that Tim had just recently made the mark. He was too busy staring at her shapely thigh and panties. He didn't see Tim move behind him.

"What...?" he demanded suddenly as he felt the spray hitting his head. He sat up and spun, just in time to catch a face full of spray from the bottle Tim was holding. "What are you two...?"

The dean felt faint. Something didn't quite feel right. As he watched, he saw his hair shooting out, light and blonde and curly. At the same time, he felt his body rearranging itself. His chest felt heavy; when he looked down, he saw breasts that put Tim's to shame. And his clothing! It was changing as well, into a trampy little outfit. Within seconds, his transformation was complete, and he was even more feminine than either Tim or Rob.

Tim and Rob flanked the new girl and helped her to her feet. She was tiny, making her boobs look almost cartoonishly large, and with a wasp waist and big hips, she was quite hot. "What...?" the girl demanded again, surprising herself with a new sultry voice. "What have you done to me?"

Tim shrugged. "Oh, relax Dean. We're just going to take you to party is all."

"But how? I'm a girl!" The dean was obviously having problems with the change. "And I feel so...weird!"

Tim looked curious for a moment, then smiled. "Oh, that! That's called being horny. The little body we gave you is just aching to get laid!" He grinned as he watched the shocked expression spread across the dean's pretty little face.

The two girls led the dean out of his office by the back door. A van was waiting, with the driver and an accomplice in ski masks. The door slammed shut and the van lurched away from the building. Moments later, the van stopped and the door opened again. "Time to get out, dean," Tim said pleasantly. "Or should we call you Deanna?" She looked thoughtful for a moment. "Yes, I think Deanna sounds much better."

With the dean whimpering at his plight, both from fear of having sex and from an incredibly powerful sexual need, the trio walked brazenly to the door of the Alpha house. The guy who answered the door was surprised, but only too eager to let the girls in.

In the van, Chuck was playing with himself as he watched. Though they hated to do it, they had to use the Alpha frat for this part; they'd left the cameras and mikes in the Alpha house from their last encounter. So it had to be the Alphas. But on the other hand, it was only too fitting for the dean to be humiliated in one of the pet fraternities. Chuck felt ready to burst; the dean was proving more than a match for the fraternity. In fact, the dean as a bimbo was currently doing three at once, and that was after all the others he'd done. It was hard to believe that this little sexpot was the stodgy dean of students, but here was the proof. And as a girl, he had a very good imagination. He'd done things to those guys that Chuck didn't think was possible.

Tim and Rob scampered out of the house, leaving the dean behind with a house full of horny Alphas. They were all going to be in for a big surprise around midnight or so. They pulled open the door. "This one going okay?" Rob asked as he sat down.

Chuck swallowed, feeling frustrated and horny as hell, and nodded. "Good feeds. And she's really getting it." He turned away from the two girls. "I see you two got a bit of action, too."

Tim blushed, turning toward the door, but Rob looked defiantly at Chuck. "Like I said, combat pay."

**********

Once again, the special council of the fraternities, the administration, and the faculty was about to be called to session. As they were about to start, Dean Livingstone and Coach Varney walked in late. As he was about to sit, the dean saw an envelope in his chair. Scowling, he picked it up as he sat. He opened it and saw a picture; he blanched, then looked up and glared at Brandon and Chuck. The coach, likewise, found his envelope. He sank in his chair, his face clouded with anger.

This time, the presentation went without interruption. The president of the fraternity council congratulated the boys on their unique solution to the problem, and the faculty was quite impressed. The vote was almost unanimous, with the Alpha house voting against, while the dean and the coach abstained, still sitting fuming in their chairs. The vote carried.

As they stood getting congratulated by the council, Brandon saw Dean Livingstone walking toward him. He turned with a pleasant smile. "Thank you for giving us another chance to present, Dean. I'm sure this will be of mutual benefit to us and to the university."

The dean glared at him, then lowered his voice. "I don't know how you did it, but I'm going to get you. Mark my words, I'm going to get you for this."

Chuck flinched visibly. "Get us? I don't understand, Dean. All we did is to present our proposal. You act like we've done something reprehensible or something."

The dean clenched his jaw. This was still too public a forum, but it was obvious that he was furious. As he stormed away, Brandon turned to Chuck. The grins were broad and genuine. They were a fraternity.

**********

Anya sat across from her grandmother. From the crossed arms and defiant stare, she was expecting a lecture. Instead, she was surprised when the old woman simply asked her, "Why?"

Anya thought for a second. "Because they were being picked on for being different. The dean and the coach were trying to sabotage something good they were doing."

The old woman looked at her for a long while, then she nodded slightly. "You know, Anya, you're getting quite an unusual sense of justice - and a strange sense of humor." Her impassive expression suddenly broke and she grinned. "It's fun to help out sometimes, isn't it?"

FIN

***********************************************************************************8

Bikini Beach: The Nerds — Fund Raiser
ElrodW

Having found a way to become a fraternity, the boys how have the problem of raising money to purchase the old gym and refurbish it. Of course, they'll find a way to use the Bikini Beach magic to help.

This story is copyright by the author. It is protected by licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Brandon slumped in his chair as the paper slipped from his hands. "Damn," he muttered under his breath.

Rob glanced up sharply from his computer. "Another rejection?"

Brandon sighed, then nodded. "Yup." He flopped his forehead onto his upturned palm, shaking his head slowly. "What are we going to do?"

Bert, the third room-mate, looked up from his studies. "How much longer do we have before we lose the deal?"

Brandon sighed, his head still shaking slowly. "Thirty days,"

"I think the dean is pulling strings around town," Rob observed bitterly. "Trying to keep us from getting the loan."

"And no loan, no improvements. No improvements, no lease. No lease, no frat house. No house, no fraternity." He sighed again. "If we don't get a loan, we're going to lose our charter."

Chuck cursed from the doorway. "That son of a bitch got us, didn't he?"

Brandon snapped his head up. "No, he didn't. Not yet, anyway." His tone was suddenly defiant, as if he'd found a new reserve of energy. "We're going to get a loan, and to hell with the dean."

Bert sighed his hopelessness. "How, Brandon? Even with national guaranteeing the loan, we still need twenty percent down. That's over forty-thousand dollars, in case you'd forgotten."

Chuck nodded glumly. "We've got just over fifteen. So how do we raise another twenty-five thousand in thirty days?"

Rob snorted his disgust. "Not possible," he proclaimed. He turned to Brandon, and instantly recognized the look. It was something he'd grown up with — a far-off look of concentration as Brandon considered all the possible permutations of a new idea. When he had the look, nothing could interrupt Brandon. He just waited.

"Okay, let's look at fundraising options. How do people raise money?" he asked simply. Before anyone could answer, he did himself. "Car washes. Bake sales. Charity auctions." He glanced around the room. "Okay, so we could have a car wash, but it wouldn't draw many people, would it?"

Chuck glanced at Rob, then at Bert, and then shook his head. "No, I don't think so."

Rob chimed in. "The charity fundraising records show that, once, a few years ago, the Delta house made almost two thousand dollars at a car wash."

Brandon smiled. "Right. And you know why?" He watched the puzzled faces, then he held his hands up in front of his chest, miming tits. "That's why."

"But we're..." Bert's train of thought ended abruptly. "Oh," he mouthed as he realized where Brandon was leading. "Hmm. It might work."

Brandon grinned. "Of course it'll work. Rob, can you run down to talk to that girl you know? See if she can help us out?"

**********

"Hi, Anya," Rob said softly as he walked into the office of Bikini Beach. He felt a little out of place; most of the time, he'd talked to Anya either at the ticket booth or inside the park. This was the first time he'd been in the office.

"Hi, Rob," Anya said from behind a large desk. "Grandmother is out playing today, so I'm stuck running things." She gestured at an empty chair. "Have a seat. How can we help you today?"

Rob slid into the chair. "No mind tricks today?" he asked cautiously.

Anya laughed, a pleasant and melodious sound. "Not today, Rob. So what's on your mind?"

"We need to raise some money to get our house. We think the dean is using his influence to block a loan, and if we can't raise the down payment soon, we'll lose everything." His words gushed forth, spilling out from his frustration and anger.

Anya listened impassively. "Okay, so how can we help?"

Rob felt hopeful. "We want to do a car wash to start with the fund raising. But like this..." he glanced down at himself, "we wouldn't make very much."

Anya understood quickly. "Ah, so you want to change into some bodies that will help you attract customers, right?"

Rob let out his breath audibly. "That's the idea. I guess it'd be about a dozen of us."

Anya looked thoughtful for a moment, then she scribbled a number on a piece of paper and passed it to Rob. "How's that sound for fees?" She smiled. "It's less than normal tickets, but we can write off some of the expenses as charity since you are affiliated with the university."

Rob nodded. "That's fair. And we'll need something really curvy, with teeny little bikinis." He thought of another detail. "Oh yeah, and we want the sex drive turned way down."

Anya laughed. "Yeah, you guys have had some problems with that one, haven't you." She laughed, as Rob blushed crimson.

**********

"Okay, guys," Brandon said reassuringly, "this is just a simple change. We've been through it, and it's no big deal. You'll be a girl until around midnight or one is all." He made it sound like an everyday occurrence, but he didn't convince anyone. If they hadn't seen Rob and Tim changed, they would have panicked. As it was, they'd _also_ seen Larry change, and with a vastly enhanced libido. Larry had been a slut for the rest of the day, a whore only too happy to fuck any man she saw. Some of the nerds thought fondly of their memories of Larry, their first encounter with a woman.

Rob nodded. "I had Anya turn down the libidos. You should be less horny than you are now, in fact, so you won't have any problems." He glanced around. "Look guys, I've done this a few times. It's no big deal, okay?"

Chuck piped in. "And we need to do this to raise the money, right?"

Grudgingly, the rest of the lads nodded their assent. Rob smiled, then began to hand out the passes. "Okay, we'll go in about four at a time. I'll take the first group. Brandon, you take the second, and Chuck, you've got the third."

"Why four at a time?" a squeaky voice asked.

Rob sighed. "Because this place is for women. It doesn't have a lot of men coming. So the men's locker room is kind of small, okay?" He waited only a second. "Okay, let's go." He led his group of young men toward the gate. Around them, attractive girls sauntered in, swiping passes as they went, and giving the boys strange looks. They knew what the boys were in for, and from their stares, they found the prospect amusing. That alone was disconcerting to Rob's group. Still, he managed to keep them together into the locker. They changed — and then the newcomers froze. "What now?"

Rob sighed again. How many times did he have to explain it? Perhaps, his mind quickly reasoned, the concept of magic was so foreign to the guys' logical minds that they kept stumbling over it. "In the showers," he ordered, waiting until the others were in before he stepped into his own shower.

Even as Rob felt the wonderful changes, he heard a high-pitched scream. He stepped out, still changing, and tugged open a curtain. Behind it, he saw one of his group, mid change, staring in horror at the growing mounds on his chest, screaming with a female voice. Rob grasped her wrists and pulled her from the water. "Snap out of it. Uh...Don?" He glanced around and saw two other very feminine faces staring from behind shower curtains. "Okay, guys. Let's get out and see what we've got."

Only the fact that Rob was so calm amid these drastic changes gave the guys any hope of functioning. He sized them up quickly, even as he felt his own changes finishing. All four were not just attractive, but were knockouts. Boobs started at D-cup and went up from there. Waists — uniformly narrow, but not ridiculously so. Nice flat stomachs. Round shapely asses. Long sexy smooth legs. Rob nodded his approval. "Good," he said in a sexy voice. "This is going to work well."

"Now...what?" one of the new girls asked fearfully. She'd been shy as a guy, and now was terrified.

"We go outside and get our bikini tops. Then we go to the carwash site."

"Out...outside?" The face was panic-stricken. "Where there are other people?"

Rob sighed. He should have thought of this. "Wait just a minute, guys." He ducked quickly out the door into the park.

Anya was waiting for him holding four bikini tops. She looked puzzled when he appeared alone. "Problems?" she asked.

Rob nodded. "A bit shell-shocked, I think."

Anya smiled. "It happens a lot." She waved a hand as she chanted something, then she grasped the door handle and led Rob back into the locker room.

The change was dramatic. Now, instead of three frightened girls, there were three shapely young ladies calmly waiting for Rob. They knew who they were, and who Rob was, and what they were doing. The only difference, and it was a striking one, was that they were magically comfortable with their changes. Rob nodded his thanks to Anya.

"I should have thought of this earlier," she said, chiding herself for the oversight. She handed out the bras, and the girls put them on like pros. That task done, Rob glanced at his group again.

As he led the girls out toward the cars, Rob smiled to himself. This was going to be great. The girls were knockouts. As he passed Brandon, he waved, and watched with amusement as the novices in Brandon's group gulped and trembled, having just seen a glimpse of what they could expect.

**********

Rob glanced across the car at Brandon and grinned. The car wash was going well. Better than well. Anya's minor 'adjustment' had made a tremendous difference. The 'girls' were proudly flaunting their shapely bodies as cars drove by, waving their signs and bouncing and swaying seductively. Business was good. And the 'girls' were very pleased to be getting the attention they were getting.

They'd made arrangements with an off-campus fast-food joint to hold the car wash there. Besides separating themselves from the campus restrictions and rules, they were in a much more visible spot.

"How much you think we've got so far?" Brandon asked as he rinsed off the windshield. As usual, part of the cold water sprayed on Rob; his nipples were cold and firmly erect, putting on a display inside the miniscule bikini tops.

Rob tossed a rag at Brandon to stop the spray. "I don't know. Tim's got the money."

Brandon finished rinsing, then dropped the hose and strode to Tim. A brief chat ensued, and he returned to the car, a satisfied smile on his pretty face. "Almost fifteen hundred," he reported happily.

**********

The girls sprawled in the lounge furniture; the lounge was really a misnomer. Only part of the gym was filled with temporary rooms; the remainder had received a load of outdated and old furniture. Sofas, end tables, chairs — it was all strewn about haphazardly. The university had even recovered an old television for entertainment — not that it worked very well.

Now, however, the furniture was occupied with exhausted girls. Still in their bikinis, they were laid out like battlefield wounded.

"Hey, Brandon," one of the girls called, barely moving from her prone position.

"What?" Brandon answered, likewise immobile.

"How much did we make?"

"Just over two thousand."

"Yay!" "Hooray!" "Way to go!" "Great!" The voices were happy, but uniformly lacking in enthusiasm, probably because the speakers were all exhausted.

"We broke the Delta's record," one girl said proudly.

"And without having to 'bribe' anyone!" Feeble laughter rippled through the hall. Everyone knew that the Delta girls had a reputation as being very easy.

"Rob," Brandon called out weakly.

"Yeah, Brandon?"

"You going to take a shower?"

"Uh huh." Rob didn't move.

"Me too." Brandon likewise sat still. "My body hurts," Brandon finally added.

"Me too," came a chorus of replies. A couple of guys came in, glanced at the sprawled sexy girls, and made a suggestive comment. He was booed out of the room.

**********

The executive committee of the fraternity sat around the chess table in Rob's room. It was Chuck, Rob, Brandon, Bert, and Arnold — the same group who had instigated the fraternity quest. "Okay, Bert, how much have we got?"

Bert checked his PDA. "Counting the fifteen we started with, we've got almost twenty-five thousand now."

Chuck visibly winced. "That leaves us with fifteen to go." He shook his head. "I don't think we're going to make it, guys."

Rob nodded morosely. He'd come to the same conclusion. For long moments, silence filled the room.

Finally, Arnold interrupted. "Guys, we've got something going here. I'm not going to give up, and you shouldn't either."

Rob looked up at him, almost angry. "Look, we knocked ourselves out with the carwash. We did the bake sale. We've tried a lot of things, and we're about tapped out." He shook his head. "The overhead of changing for the bake sale left us almost even." He lowered his head. "And I don't think _any_ of us want to try the personal maid thing again!"

"You've got that right!" Bert agreed passionately. "I've never been so humiliated in my entire life!" They had gone so far as to change so they could serve as 'personal maids', at a very hefty fee, of course. While they had raised several thousand dollars, most of the guys had decided to put 'personal' into personal service; the maids had done little cleaning, but much servicing.

Arnold shook his head. "There's got to be a way!"

Rob snorted. "We tried. We came up short."

Brandon got the far-off look again. Silently, he rose and padded to his computer. A few deft keystrokes later and he was searching the Internet. After a minute or two, he sat back. "Yup."

"What?" Rob's plea echoed the sentiments of all in the room — curiosity to see what Brandon had found.

Brandon turned from the computer. "There was a volunteer fire department that did a pinup calendar to raise money. They made almost sixty thousand in three months."

Arnold glanced around, then looked at Brandon, shaking his head in disbelief. "I don't know if you've thought of it, but none of us are exactly built for that kind of calendar."

Rob nodded his agreement. "And we don't have three months. We've got more like two weeks."

Brandon grinned. "I wasn't thinking of that kind of calendar. But what if we looked like we did during the car wash?"

**********

The old woman stared impassively across her desk at Rob and Bert. "Let me get this straight. You want to change into girls, and then use my park as a background for cheesecake pictures? So you can sell a calendar to raise money?"

Bert nodded gingerly. He felt genuine fear toward this woman, and for a reason that he couldn't quite explain. "That's the idea," he said meekly.

The old woman shook her head. "This park is a sanctuary for women. I can't let anyone in to take pictures. I won't. It violates every tenet of privacy I've so carefully built."

Rob shrugged off his fear. "I know that. But I think we can work something out."

The old woman looked defiantly at him, then scowled. "It's a rule I won't bend. No cameras in the park."

Rob glanced at Anya, who nodded to encourage him. Rob had already outlined his idea to Anya, and she'd thought it was good enough to present to her grandmother.

"I know you don't like cameras. And I don't want to violate anyone's privacy. Believe me, we know all about having our privacy abused." He watched for a reaction from the old woman. When he didn't see any, he decided to plow ahead. "One member of our fraternity is a photography buff. He could take the pictures. That cuts down on outside people. And we could take them early in the day — before any customers arrive."

The old woman's eyes narrowed, then she nodded imperceptibly. "Go on."

Rob swallowed, then glanced at Anya. "Look, one thing you need is advertising copy. Your privacy rule smacks right into that. If you let us use the park, we'll sign releases so you can use any or all of the pictures for your ad copy." He waited a second. "This can be a win-win."

The old woman stared at Rob for a while; her mind was obviously racing as she considered the possibilities. "What about residuals from the calendar sales?"

"Residuals?" Rob asked, his mouth dropping open.

The old woman smiled. "Sure. If you're going to use my park, then it's only fair that you pay residuals or royalties."

Rob gulped. He hadn't considered that angle. He did a few quick mental calculations. "I guess we could give you ten percent," he said hesitantly.

The old woman threw back her head and laughed. "My boy, you have a lot to learn about business." She glanced at Anya, then back at Rob. "I can't take advantage of you like that. The standard for royalties is four or five percent tops. Not ten."

Rob's eyes widened and he stared at the old woman for a few seconds. He turned to Anya, uncertain. He thought he was hearing something positive, but he wasn't sure.

Anya smiled pleasantly. "Rob, I think grandmother is saying that you've got a deal."

Rob swallowed, then turned to grandmother, who was smiling. She extended a hand across the table, which Rob took and shook. "It's a deal, just like Anya says." She sat back. "So when do you want to get started?"

Rob felt the world spin. This was going well. Too well. He was starting to expect something to go wrong. "Um," he muttered, "we've got a real short deadline, so the sooner, the better. Can we start shooting tomorrow morning?"

The old woman glanced at Anya, then back at Rob. "Tomorrow is Sunday. We open to our members at ten. You'd have to be out by then."

Rob thought for a moment. "Sunup is around seven. Three hours. That should get us some good pictures."

Anya touched his arm lightly. "You'll probably need another day or two. Weekdays, we open at eleven. That'd give you an extra hour."

Rob sighed. "Yeah, you're probably right." He suddenly felt the size of the task and suppressed a shudder. "I don't know, Anya," he said after a second. "This is going to be a lot of work. I hope we can pull it off."

The old woman sized up his concerns almost instantly. "One cameraman is going to be very busy. The models are going to have it easy." She turned to her granddaughter. "Anya, isn't Greg a photography hobbyist?"

Anya's eyes widened slightly, then she pressed her lips together and started muttering oaths to herself. "Damn. I should have thought of that." She turned to Rob, excitement on her face. "Rob, my boyfriend is pretty handy with a camera. With two photographers, you should have no problem getting enough pictures in two mornings."

Rob's eyes lit up. A little bit of help could make the entire project work. "That sounds good. So we'll start shooting at seven tomorrow?"

**********

"It's too damned early," Bert muttered for the tenth time. Bleary-eyed, he and a gaggle of nerds staggered across the asphalt toward the gate of Bikini Beach. "Why are we here so early?"

Rob turned and sighed. "Some of you are going to help Randy set up the cameras and gear. The rest of you have to change and then get made up."

"Makeup?" Tim spat the word as if it were distasteful, which to him, it was. "We have to wear makeup?"

Randy glanced over his shoulder, a shoulder laden with the straps to numerous camera and equipment bags. "This is a professional calendar. So you have to look like professional models. Yes, you have to wear makeup."

"But why so early?" Bert complained again.

Randy started to answer, but Anya stepped around the corner of the ticket booth. "Because it takes _girls_ a long time to properly put on makeup," she answered. There was a guy beside Anya. She took his arm and smiled at Rob. "Rob, Brandon, this is Greg, my boyfriend. Greg, Rob and Brandon."

Greg extended his hand, warmly. "Glad to meet you. Anya has told me a lot about you guys." He grinned. "Nice work with the Alphas."

Brandon glanced at Anya. "How many people have you told about that little caper?"

Anya laughed. "Just Greg and grandmother. And I really didn't have to tell her, you know." She glanced at the horizon, where faint streaks of light were beginning to show. "We'd better get you guys showered and changed so we don't waste any time." She led the group to the ticket gate, then gave them each a card. "Okay, here's how this works. You're going to change into essentially a female version of yourself, but with a few minor enhancements." She elbowed Greg, who was making cupping motions at his chest.

Greg leaned close to Brandon. "You ever see a model named Pandora Peaks?" Brandon glanced at him, then his face split into a big grin. Greg smiled. "I thought so. Keep thinking about her when you go through the turnstile."

Brandon got a puzzled look. "Why?"

Greg grinned. "It helps make your figure a little better," he said mischievously. "You guys want super models, don't you?"

Anya gave him a quick glare, which silenced Greg. She turned back to the group. "Who are the models?" Brandon, Tim, Arnold, and a few others raised their hands. "Okay, you go first." She handed them cards as they stepped forward. Each one swiped his card, as he went through the turnstile. "Get showered. Rob, you go with them, then come to the ladies locker." She stopped suddenly. "Wait. You did remember the makeup supplies I told you to get, didn't you?"

Rob smiled and held up a large gym bag. "Just what you said."

"Okay, go shower and hustle to the ladies locker." She turned to the rest of the guys as the 'models' went into the men's locker. "Okay, I presume the rest of you are help?" She watched them nod. "After you go through the turnstile, set down your gear by the locker room and go shower."

Chuck frowned. "Wait a minute. Why do we have to shower if we're just assistants and gofers?"

Anya sighed. "Because this is a ladies park, and grandmother doesn't let men inside," she answered sternly. "Besides, there's nothing like guys around to distract girls trying to model. Does that answer your question?" She waited for further objections. "No? Good. Now let's get going here." She handed out the cards and watched as the guys filed through the turnstile. As Greg was about to enter, she grasped his arm. "Keep it simple, okay?"

Chuck heard her admonishment and wondered what _that_ was about. Maybe he'd have to talk to Greg about it.

One by one, the guys changed in the showers. Blonde, brunette, and even one auburn. Curvy, but not stripper proportions. Nice shapely girls, with a girl-next-door look. A few of the guys had minor panic attacks as they changed; Anya was on hand to calm them down with a little magic.

Brandon came out of the locker, and spied Greg. The look on Brandon's face was not pleasant, and he marched toward Greg, his hands holding the large boobs on his chest. "Very funny," he said, surprised at the sex appeal dripping from his voice.

Greg tried to look innocent, but failed. Instead, he broke out laughing. With the mental image Greg had given Brandon, he'd become a hybrid between the girl he would have been and Pandora Peaks. Brandon's tits were huge, to say the least, and with a tiny waist, they looked even bigger. Greg's laughter was infectious; most of the guys lined up to change were snickering. "Sorry, Brandon," Greg apologized through guffaws. "I couldn't help myself."

Brandon scowled. "You did that on purpose!" he accused, his voice still sounding sexy. He spun, and had to catch his big tits, which swayed dangerously from the sudden motion. The tiny bikini he was wearing did precious little to contain the motion, and the guys waiting had another laugh at Brandon's expense.

**********

"Uh, Brandon?" a female version of Rob asked uncertainly as Brandon came into the women's locker.

Brandon scowled. "Yeah. Greg tricked me." He slumped into a chair to get makeup.

Rob nudged Anya. "We've got a problem," he said softly.

Anya turned, and her eyes bulged. "Brandon? What the hell happened?"

"Your boyfriend tricked me. He got me thinking about a big-chested stripper before I went through the gate." Brandon was pouting at his predicament, but he couldn't see how sexy it made him look.

Anya bit her lip. "Sorry about that, but I can't undo it." She glanced at Rob. "Brandon doesn't fit the image you were looking for."

Rob glanced, then nodded. "Sorry, Brandon, but you look like a stripper, and we wanted more of a girl-next-door look. I don't think you should model."

Brandon sighed, then perked up a bit. "Well, at least I won't have to put on makeup."

Rob sighed. "So we're short one model."

Brandon glanced at Anya, then smiled. "No, we're not."

Anya nodded. "You and Brandon switch places. Brandon, you'll help with the makeup, and Rob'll model." She glanced at Brandon again. "And I'll get Greg for his little trick."

**********

Randy was a taskmaster when it came to modeling. He divided up the chores for the morning. He took responsibility for the still shots, and he gave Greg the task of the action photos.

Randy had scouted the day before, and knew precisely where he wanted to take stills. The sun rising over the water and palm trees of the tropical lagoon made a spectacular backdrop, and Randy shot over ten rolls there alone. The tropical hut and white sand of the Tiki Hut gave some good photos. Beside the Pele Race slides was a decorative waterfall; with the tropical foliage it was a scene from a south pacific fantasy. More pictures came at the Gold Rush run, with its mining theme making a nice change. But Randy ran out of time; there were four more areas he wanted to take pictures at, but he had to start tearing down so the park could open.

And all the while, between shots, the girls were running back and forth to the locker rooms, touching up their makeup, changing swimsuits, and combing their hair. The girls assisting Randy got a rest while he took pictures, but had to scramble when it was time to move to another setting.

Greg kept his crew busy, too. He started with some action shots at the Wild Luau Raft, a group raft ride. The tricky part for him was that it took a long time to set up for each shot, with the girls having to go back to the top and get in their raft. After the first set of shots, he turned the camera's motor drive to full automatic, to maximize the chances of good pictures. Each run after the first gave him four or five shots. A group shot racing down Pele's Race came next, then some shots of girls body surfing at the Tropical Waves wave pool. He got a couple of girls to volunteer for the Pipeline, and caught them mid-scream as they plummeted down the slippery channel. As he expected, their bikini tops came off at the bottom, but he'd stopped snapping pictures by then.

The Old Swimming Hole gave some good shots of the girls swinging out over the pond, and some rafting shots along Old Man River were a peaceful change from the heart-stopping thrill rides. He took a few more photos at the Dambuster Raft Ride, and then had to stop for the morning.

**********

Greg and Anya joined the nerds at the gym. Greg and Randy's were in Randy's room, looking over the massive number of digital photos to select the best samples, while Anya sat with the guys in the lounge. Some of the unchanged guys were present, being curious as to what lay in store for them tomorrow. Greg had wanted to talk with Chuck about the remodeling of the gym, but Anya forced him to work on the immediate task — the pictures.

"I never knew that putting makeup on could be so tiring," Brandon complained. He'd put on a high-collared coat to hide his huge tits; even the coat didn't disguise his vastly enhanced bust.

Another guy-turned-to-girl sighed. "Try working with Randy. He's a cruel boss. My back is killing me from lugging around those lights and reflectors."

"Oh, yeah? Well try spending hours changing into and out of swimsuits, posing in unnatural positions, and having to smile and look sexy." The model sighed as he leaned back on a sofa. "If I never change into a bikini again, it'll be too soon."

One of the guys grinned. "Sounds good to me." Most of the guys who'd been changed hurled pillows, cushions, and other soft objects at the poor guy.

Rob smiled. "Careful, Sam. Anya can make sure you get a real sore back tomorrow carrying around big tits all day." Anya turned, then smiled.

Brandon sighed. "We did pretty good, but I think we could have used more models."

Anya nodded her agreement. "Greg and Randy were fighting over models most of the morning. We could have used twice as many girls."

Brandon nodded. "Well, we'll get more for tomorrow morning." He yawned. It was late afternoon. Except for Randy and Greg, the others had stayed to play for a few hours, enjoying the park as guests of the old woman. After all, as she explained, they were helping her with advertising photos. Consequently, they were all pretty tired. "I think I'm going to get some sleep." He stood and, purely from reflex, stretched. His large bustline was well displayed, even through the coat.

"Want some company?" one of the guys asked with a wicked grin.

Brandon started to frown, then he stopped. "No, I don't think so. I'm just going to go to bed. By myself. And lay naked on the sheets, licking and playing with my huge titties while I touch my hot wet clit. And thinking about how a _real_ man would make me feel." He turned, then smiled over his shoulder. "Sweet dreams," he purred as he sauntered out of the room, his butt swinging sexily.

Anya and Rob were ready to choke on their laughter; the poor guy sat stunned, his mind running wild with the images Brandon had verbalized. He gulped, feeling himself getting turned on at the pornographic imagery, while he blushed at the laughter directed his way. It was going to be a long, lonely night for the poor guy.

Rob turned back to Anya. "How many models do you want? We had, what, eight today? You think we should have twelve or fourteen?"

Anya thought for a moment. "Greg said he thought that twice as many would be good. Can you get that many?"

Rob thought for a minute. "We had two working on makeup, two cameras, and four assistants for each camera? With twice as many, we'd need at least one more on makeup. That's about thirty?" He stared at the ceiling for a moment. "Yeah, I think we can do that." Then a thought occurred to him. "What about Greg? Will he be able to help with the photography tomorrow?"

Anya nodded. "He's got a pretty wide open schedule, so he should be free."

Rob nodded. "We're going to have to do something for him," he said. "He's putting in a lot of effort for us on this project."

Anya looked genuinely and pleasantly surprised. "Well, what about inviting him to join your fraternity?" she asked.

It was Rob's turn to be surprised. "I wouldn't have thought of that. You know, we're just a bunch of..."

Anya cut him off. "Guys trying to start a fraternity? Yeah, well, you might think about asking him. Even if he turns you down, it would be a nice gesture."

Rob started to answer, but was interrupted by Greg and Randy. "Got the proofs ready," Greg announced as he offered his hand to Anya. She took his hand and pulled herself up from her chair. "You should see the setup he's got! Man, he's got some professional-grade image software!"

Anya smiled, then glanced at Ron with an 'I told you so' look.

**********

"I've got five extra guys, just like you asked," Brandon said to Anya, puzzled by her last-minute request. "What's up?"

Anya winced. Grandmother's request was strange, but not entirely unexpected. After all, if these photos were advertising copy, she needed ads for all sections of the park. "Well, it's like this." She explained what her grandmother had asked.

Brandon's grimace was plain. "That's a pretty tall order, isn't it?" He was clearly uneasy about the whole thing. "I mean, that's a lot bigger change than what we've done so far."

Anya's expression betrayed her discomfort. "Yeah, I know. But we need pictures of those areas, too." She watched as Brandon mulled over the request, and she knew that he was about to turn her down. "Grandmother said I can offer a hundred dollars each for the first group, and we can work out something with passes for both groups."

Brandon thought. Some of the guys were enjoying visits to Bikini Beach; passes would be valuable commodities. "I'll ask, but don't hold your breath."

He returned to the assembled group. "Okay, Anya has a kind of unusual request. Here's the deal. She'd like two or three volunteers to change into little girls for some pictures at the kiddie play area, and another two or three for the junior swimmer area."

The reaction was exactly what Brandon expected. "You mean we'd be turned into little girls? For the day?" Brandon nodded, at which point the grumbling started to get loud.

Brandon tried to silence the group. "Anya offered a hundred for each guy who changes into a little girl, and she said she'd work out something with passes for both the kiddies and the juniors."

Brandon's words didn't stop the protests. All of the guys were upset at this last request. Being a girl, well that was one thing. But changing into a little girl, or even a toddler? That was too much. They started to condemn the offer.

"Hold it, guys," Chuck's voice boomed out. "Look, we're trying to raise some money here, and the old woman and Anya have been pretty generous to us. The least we could do is a small favor to show her that we're grateful." He turned to Brandon. "Put me down for the kiddie group. No charge." Then he grinned. "Except maybe a day pass or two later on."

Chuck's remonstration silenced the protests. Reluctantly, some of the guys followed his lead, even to turning down the money. As they reported to Anya, she smiled. She hadn't underestimated these guys after all.

**********

Rob instinctively patted the little pigtailed-girl on the head, looking down with a smile.

The girl frowned. "Watch it, Rob. It's still me in here." The girl, a tiny little four-year-old, had been Chuck until moments ago. Now, Chuck was a short, slender little girl with long brown hair in pigtails, wearing a pink one-piece swimsuit.

He looked too cute, Rob thought again. He glanced around and saw the other kids; two more cute little tykes, and three gangly girls about ten to twelve years old. Of the older girls, one had braces, which had upset the guy quite a bit, while another was just starting to show chest development. Rob suppressed a chuckle when he thought that these cute little girls were really college-age guys.

Anya, however, wasn't about to hold her tongue. "You guys look great!" she gushed. "You're just perfect!"

Chuck looked down at the sidewalk. "Yeah, well, this isn't a lot of fun," he grumbled in a high-pitched little girl voice.

Anya smiled. "You'll have a ball. Now I think Greg's got the cameras set up over at the Kiddie Play Land. You and the other little ones run over, and you should be done quickly. Then you can hang out and play for the rest of the day. Oh, and I got one of our lifeguards, Liz, to agree to escort you for the rest of the day. If you want it, she'll get it." The girls nodded, then scooted off at a quick little run. Anya watched them go with a curious, wistful look. Then she shook off the feeling and turned back. "You guys can hang out, or go ride some of the rides. It'll probably be forty or forty-five minutes before they're ready for you. Just make sure you're at the Junior Lifeguard Academy not later than seven forty-five. Okay?" The gangly young ladies nodded, then walked slowly into the park.

Brandon walked briskly toward Anya, a curious smile on his face. "Hi, Anya. I'm all set for modeling today." Once again, he was transformed, but this time, he didn't have the exaggerated figure of Pandora Peaks. He was transformed into a modestly attractive young lady, with an above-average figure - just exactly what they needed for the calendar. "By the way, have you seen Greg yet?"

Anya frowned. "No, why?" Then her eyes widened. "You're wicked!" she said as she slapped his arm. She turned and walked toward the Kiddie Play Land, to find Greg.

Rob was puzzled. "What was she talking about?" he asked. Like Brandon, and indeed all the future Nu Rho Delta guys, he was changed by the magic of Bikini Beach into a young lady. Today, he was slated to be a model, and his figure today was curvier than the one he had Sunday.

Brandon smiled. "Remember what Greg did to me yesterday?" No one in the dorm would ever forget that, not after Brandon came home with incredibly huge knockers. Rob nodded slowly, not sure he wanted to know where this was going. "Well, just as Greg was sliding his card, I flashed him a picture of Casey James."

Rob's mouth dropped open. "Holy shit!" he exclaimed softly. "She's huge!" He glanced at his own ample and attractive breasts, and thought of what his profile would look like if he had those tits. A shudder coursed up his spine.

Brandon grinned. "You should see him now. He's got the biggest knockers I've ever seen!" He laughed in his soft, feminine voice at the image of Greg. Revenge was sweet.

**********

It was another grueling day. Greg was busy with the Kiddie Play Land, then the Junior Lifeguard Academy. In the meantime, Randy used the verandas for some stills, with Old Man River meandering in the background. He returned to the lagoon, then he used the volcano as a backdrop. By nine, Randy had taken all the stills he could — using almost half of his supply of memory cards for the camera. He moved his gear to some of the rides to work on action shots.

As he set up to take a picture of girls emerging from the Tahiti Twister, an older and quite attractive woman sauntered up beside him. "I thought cameras weren't allowed," she said with the air of someone who expects to be listened to.

Randy turned to see who was bothering him, and as a result, missed the shot. At the sound of the splash, he turned back, then turned again to the woman. "You made me miss the shot!" he complained bitterly. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

The woman started, then she started to show her anger. "Look here, young lady, I'm a member of this park, and I was assured there are certain rules. Like no cameras."

Randy felt his temper rising. He started to reply, then turned to one of the assistants. "Go get Anya and find out who let this...this pest in!"

Before anyone could move, Anya arrived, having sensed some potential trouble. "Oh, hi, Ronnie," she said, perplexed. "What are you doing here? We don't open until eleven."

Ronnie gave Anya a quick hug. "I know, but when I saw the action down here, I just had to come have a look." She glared at the cameras. "And I found this!"

Anya's mouth opened as she understood. "Ah, yes. Your penthouse has a view..."

Ronnie smiled. "And I saw a lot of action yesterday morning and again today. So I thought I'd find out what was happening in my favorite park." She glanced at Randy and the cameras again, and her features hardened. "I thought cameras weren't permitted."

Anya nodded her understanding. "Normally, they aren't. But we found ourselves in a kind of bind. We need ad copy, and we..."

Ronnie's features softened. "Ah, I see." She smiled. "So you take the pictures before your regular guests arrive. Smart." She studied Anya for a moment. "And what else?"

Anya started, and Randy's mouth dropped open in surprise.

Ronnie watched their reactions, especially Anya's, and laughed. "Come on, dear girl," she chuckled, "surely you don't think I can't tell when you're up to something?"

Anya studied Ronnie for a moment, then nodded. "I guess that comes with years of experience swimming with the sharks. Okay, the pictures are also going to be used in a calendar, to raise money for a fraternity. They need to raise money to renovate a house, or they'll lose their charter. So we agreed to help each other out."

Ronnie studied Anya, then Randy. "So these are the nerds who are trying to renovate the gym."

Anya frowned at her choice of words. She turned to one of the assistants. "Go get Brandon. Now." It took a second for the command to sink in, then the girl turned and scampered. Anya gazed at Ronnie again, then she turned back to Randy. "You might as well get back to shooting," she said calmly. "We're wasting time."

**********

Randy and Greg, once again, were sequestered in the photo lab, while most of the remainder of the guys sprawled around the lounge. Notably, Ronnie Harris was sitting with them. Unlike the others, however, she sat properly, upright and ladylike.

"I think we've got enough pictures for both of us," Brandon said calmly. "If the shots today come out as good as yesterday's."

Ronnie nodded. "Who is going to do the printing?" she asked casually.

Ron's eyebrows raised. This lady didn't miss a trick. No wonder she was such a successful businesswoman. "We got a good bid from PrintQuick," he answered. "And a three day turnaround, too. In fact, that was the deciding factor."

Ronnie looked at him for several seconds, then she began to shake her head. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Brandon frowned. "Why not?"

Ronnie laughed. "I've used them before. They may be quick, but their quality is lousy." She took a sip of soda; even that action was dainty and refined. "If it were me, I'd use RapidRepro. They're a bit more expensive, but they could turn around that job in two days, and their quality can't be beat." She took another sip. "Especially if I had a word with Sid."

Ron sat silently, pondering. This woman was a powerful businesswoman, and she was suddenly interested in helping the guys. Something was up. His mind raced as he tried to figure out her angle.

Anya, however, wasn't so hesitant. "Ronnie, what are you up to?"

Ronnie tried to look innocent, the old 'who, me?' routine. It didn't convince Anya. She changed the subject instantly and turned back to Brandon. "How are you going to distribute the calendars?"

Brandon was puzzled. "We're going to set up a booth on campus and sell them. And post notices. Oh, and an ad in the paper."

Ronnie laughed, shaking her head all the while. "Oh, dear me!" she said, still shaking her head. "Anya," she said, sounding a bit disappointed, "haven't you given them any advice about distribution?"

Anya scowled, then lowered her head. "I hadn't thought about it. And you're right."

Ronnie turned back to Brandon and Rob. "How many calendars were you thinking you'd sell? One thousand? Two? Or are you guessing?" She watched the sheepish expressions, and knew the answer. "That's what I thought." She smiled. "Okay, I've got a proposition for you. First of all, are you planning a monthly calendar, or a weekly?"

"Monthly. Why?"

Ronnie smiled. "Why not do both? You'd make a lot more money, and if the pictures from yesterday are any guide, you've got more than enough material to do both. Okay, here's the proposition. I'll help you with the business end, for a cut of, oh, say eight percent of gross."

Brandon started to bristle. Here was a lady, who they had just met, trying to cut in on their deal. He was about to tell her what to do with herself when he felt Anya's hand on his arm. He turned, and she shook her head almost imperceptibly. He turned back, then let out a deep breath. "All right. How about if you tell us why we should agree to your terms?"

Ronnie didn't react as Brandon had expected. Instead, she just laughed. "You're pretty sharp, kid," she chuckled. "Okay, here's why. I had to work very hard to get where I am in life. It's my turn to help out the next generation of entrepreneurs. You kids are all pretty sharp. I talked to Anya's grandmother, and I know she could have taken advantage of you. I also know that _you_ didn't try to take advantage of her. That says a lot about your character." She smiled pleasantly. "And I know that that little prick Livingstone is trying to squash you guys. I always hated arrogant men." For the briefest of moments, her eyes flashed a deep hatred, then they cleared. "So here's what's in it for me. I see a product that has a lot of potential. I can help you guys." She said the word as though she knew their secret. Rob, Brandon, Chuck, and a few of the others started. "Oh, yes. I know all about Bikini Beach and its magic." She smiled again. "You were thinking of one or two thousand calendars? How about fifty thousand? At twelve dollars each, with a twenty percent margin. My cut would be nominal — say ten percent of gross, and I'll take care of the distribution."

Brandon did some quick calculations. "That's pretty optimistic, isn't it?"

Ronnie laughed. "That's the _pessimistic_ numbers. And as I understand it, you guys are on a deadline. If you do this yourselves, you'll be lucky to make it. I can guarantee you'll make it by fronting the money against the profits."

Brandon glanced at Rob, then at Anya. Anya nodded slightly; she knew Ronnie Harris very well, and knew that the lady was playing this straight. "This kind of decision I'll have to clear with the guys."

Ronnie smiled. "I'd be shocked if you accepted _without_ checking."

Greg peeked his head out from the corridor. "Pictures are ready," he chimed. "And they're even better than yesterday's batch." He saw the males in the room staring at him, and he blushed as he ducked back around the corner, holding his huge melons to keep them from jiggling too much. He muttered a silent oath, cursing Brandon for his trickery. His shoulders hurt, his back hurt, and these damned things bounced around at the slightest provocation. When he'd taken a momentary break, he'd discovered that the cup size was NNN; he was amazed that cups that big existed.

Ronnie leaned closer to Anya. "Your boyfriend looks a little different," she said nonchalantly. "I can't quite place my finger on it, though."

Brandon laughed, as did Anya. "Yesterday, he tricked me into having big knockers when I changed," Brandon explained. "So I decided it was payback time." Brandon was relishing the telling of the tale. "I flashed him this picture," he showed the image of the nude stripper to the ladies, "just before he swiped his card this morning."

Ronnie tilted back her head and laughed, a hearty, rib tickling laugh. She enjoyed a good prank. After the laughter died down, she looked at Brandon. "One more thing." She watched his face cloud. "Oh, no. Nothing to do with the business deal. I wondered if I could ask a personal favor. I'd like to borrow your photographer — for a private sitting. The pictures he took are very good, and I'd like to get some of me. At Bikini Beach, of course."

**********

Brandon, Rob, and the group smiled as they handed the paperwork to Dean Livingstone. Behind them, Ronnie Harris stood, a smug smile as she watched the dean be forced to accept them as a fraternity. With no ceremony on his part, he handed the group a charter, then abruptly turned and stormed from the room.

The remainder of the council, however, erupted in cheers. The boys had done it. They'd beaten the odds, and had formal charters from both the Nu Rho Delta fraternity, and from the university. And they'd gotten the loan, which enabled them to formalize the purchase of the old gym.

Anya, Greg, and Ronnie walked with them back to the gym. Inside, they had set up a table with punch and snacks. A few girls were present, which surprised Ronnie; the guys had laid on a party to celebrate their status as the newest fraternity.

Brandon handed Ronnie a glass of punch. "I'd like to say thanks, on behalf of all of us, for all your help."

Ronnie accepted the punch, then smiled. "I like being able to help. And making a few dollars from the whole deal isn't bad either."

Anya had slipped up beside them. "So how are the calendars doing?"

Ronnie started to say something, but Brandon interrupted her. "We're being sold coast-to-coast in BookMart, thanks to Ms. Harris. So far, we've made almost sixty thousand."

Ronnie smiled. "And they're almost done with the layout for the weekly calendar, too. That should sell just as well. Maybe better."

Brandon smiled broadly. "We owe you a lot," he offered. "Thanks."

Ronnie smiled mischievously. "You can start thanking me by dancing." She took the surprised Brandon's hand and dragged him to an open area. With surprise grace, she began to dance with the startled boy. She glanced to Anya, and gave her a wink. Brandon might have bitten off more than he could chew, Anya thought as she watched him dancing with the older woman.

As Anya watched, Greg and Rob sidled up beside her, Greg carrying a fresh glass of punch. She took it, then smiled. "Greg, dear, could you get me a sandwich, please?" She watched as he walked off, then turned to Rob. "Thanks for asking Greg to join. He's thrilled about the idea."

Rob smiled. "Thanks for suggesting it. Greg's a great guy, and he's got a very good sense of humor. The guys really like him."

Anya smiled. "Well, anyway, thanks. After what he's been through, belonging to a group is really good for him." Grandmother had been right; these guys were going to have a long and prosperous relationship with Bikini Beach.

**********

Epilogue:

Brandon reread the letter, just to make sure he wasn't imagining things. When he was sure he was reading it correctly, he ran out to the lounge. "Guys, you won't believe what I just got in the mail!" he shouted, struggling to contain his excitement.

The guys looked up, curious. "What's up?" Rob asked.

Brandon was fighting to contain himself; Rob hadn't seen him this excited since, well, since his first sexual experience. "The editors of a major sports magazine saw our calendar."

"So?" Chuck asked, wishing that Brandon would get on with the news. "What else?"

Brandon grinned. "They're doing their annual swimsuit issue, and, well, to get to the point," he saw how anxious the guys were to hear what the gist of the news was, "they want to use Brandi, Samantha, and Tina in their photo shoot!"

Sam stared at Brandon, his mouth agape. Tim was staring as well, equally surprised. "You're kidding, right?" he said uncertainly. Surely this was one of Brandon's gags.

"No joke," Brandon grinned. "They're offering one week in Cancun, all expenses paid, plus ten thousand cash each, and royalties if they use our pictures in any calendar!"

Sam looked thoughtful for a few moments. Then he turned to Tim. "I don't know about you, but I'm going to have to get a whole new wardrobe. I don't have anything to wear for Cancun!" He laughed, and the rest of the guys laughed with him.

Brandon looked hopefully at the two guys. "I guess this means I should call Anya about getting passes for us, right?"

FIN