Synopsis:

Another BigCloset TopShelf story.

Joanie concludes the call to Iowa, agreeing to attend a dance with -- gulp -- Eric. She substitute teaches a class and makes enemies without really trying. And she gets savagely beaten for her troubles.

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

Story:

Timeout 2-Pause/Record/Fast-forward: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction

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

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

This is still sort of first my attempt a TG/sci-fi piece, thought I’m getting better, honest. Constructive criticism and advice is welcome. This is for fun and in appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe. Take it in that spirit. Any violations of copyright, trade mark or use of real people or incidents is for purposes of humor or parody, which saves my butt. I love the fair use doctrine. All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005-2006. See my agents, my new agents 86 and 99 of Control. Their moto, “We take the Kaos out of your life.”

Timeout 2

By John from Wauwatosa

Chapter 6-I’ve got a Date for the Prom? 2, An Offer I Can’t Refuse, Pinky, Adventures in Substitute Teaching, Fade to Black.

December 14 2006 - January 29, 2007 Whateley Academy, Dunwich NH, Des Moines IA

To recap, I’ve apparently asked Eric for a date. I am crazy. His response was more measured.

“I suppose so,” Eric said sheepishly.

“Act a bit more enthused, hon, a pretty girl just said she likes you. I’d ask her out before she changes her mind,” Babs said.

~She approves? Don’t tell me she’s playing matchmaker? ~

“You okay with this, Babs. I’m 49 years old; physically I’m about 16 or 17 but still.”

“I trust you, Joanie, even if nothing can come of this now, Eric’s reputation at school will soar. Talk about your confidence-boosters, though the other girls will pale by comparison.”

I blushed though they didn’t see it; duh, I was on the phone!

“If you’re okay with it I am, Babs, and I’m not that pretty.”

“Yes you are, Joanie, and if he gets you pregnant, I’ll hold the shotgun on him at the wedding.” Babs laughed.

“Mom!” Eric cried out.

“Mom?” Mel said confused. I needed to act fast.

“Okay if I go out with your brother, Mel, just for fun? I don’t want to hurt either of you.”

“Well, okay I guess, but you have to tell me everything after.”

“Nothing that embarrasses, Eric, deal, Mel?”

“Deal, Joanie.” She paused for a moment then “that” tone came in her voice. “Wow! This could be so great, we stay best friends, and you date my brother, and you can be my sister-in-law when you’re married -- maybe we could have a double wedding if I have a boy friend too -- its so kewl! We can be each others favorite aunties to our kids -- you’d be such a good mommy, Joanie, and your babies would have lots of milk ‘cause you have such nice breasts, and you’d be my real sister forever and ever.”

~Ghod, now Mel is eager for me to go out with her brother? I feel like I should be picking out china patterns... Did I hear “mommy”? ~

“Mommy, Mel, aren’t we jumping the gun a bit here, girl? I said I like your brother, that’s not the same as having his children.”

~I said I like Eric? ~

“Sorry, Joanie, I got excited, but it would be kewl.”

“You know it might at that, Mel.”

~Scary thought for the day, me a mother or me with a man? ~

“You certainly like kids, Joanie, with your new body why not?”

“Let’s not go picking out my trousseau, Babs. So when’s a good time for my first date with Eric?”

“You’re just hanging with me, maybe dancing, but no mushy stuff?”

“Okay no mushy stuff. You act like it’s such a chore to be with me, Eric. Maybe I should change my mind since you obviously don’t like the idea of hugging or kissing me,” I said, teasing him and slightly hurt at his rejection.

~I want him to kiss me and …? Oh, Ghod! ~

“Please don’t, I...“

~He’s got it bad, ouch! I know how you feel, Eric. I think I woke up on the wrong planet today. ~

“I’m looking at Eric’s school calenda,r and there’s a Valentine’s Day dance. Because that’s a school night, they’re holding it on Saturday the 17th, it sort of the middle school Senior Prom,” Babs suggested.

~Strange, I thought Proms were in late May or early June. PROM?! ~

“Tuxedoes and ball gown, Babs, a formal?”

~What have I gotten myself into? ~

“Sport coat and a nice dress, ties optional, Joanie, nothing fancy. It’s from five to nine pm in the school gym. Bob and I are chaperones,” Babs explained.

“So no limo or corsage then, darn.” Now I giggled.

~What a concept, — giggle — oh my! ~

“You want to, Eric, just for fun? I won’t embarrass you, promise,” I said sweetly, no longer teasing the poor boy.

“Well, okay, Ms. Joanie, only no high heels because of the floor.”

“I think you can call me Joan or Joanie now, Eric.” I purred ‘Eric’.

~This teasing the boys is fun. ~

“Thanks, Joanie... um, I gotta go now, bye.” Eric hung up.

“Joanie, I think you’ve scarred him for life. You will be careful won’t you?” said Babs.

“Like he was my own brother, uh that didn’t come out right.” Babs snickered in response. “Babs, Mel, remind Eric he can’t tell anyone I’m coming, for everybody’s safety. If they ask if he has a date, he can say he asked this nice girl from out of town -- it’s the truth without saying much.”

“You should be a politician; Dad couldn’t have said better.”

“Speaking of the Senator, will he have a problem with this or for that matter will Bob?”

“Knowing Dad, he’s trying to figure a way to adopt or marry you into the family. You can do no wrong in his eyes. I think he fancies you as a granddaughter. If he were younger, he’d be courting you -- you do resemble Mom when they first met, except you’re a foot taller. As to Bob, he does anything I ask these days, and thanks again for whatever it was you did to get him so fired up. He’s so energetic, like we were when we first dat... Mel are you still listening?” Babs said.

“Sorry, Mom, don’t feel embarrassed. I may be eleven, but I’m no child. Eric turned fourteen last week; you and Dad will be married fifteen years on May fifteenth. I can do the math and Eric was no preemie.”

“Oh my Ghod, Babs and Bob were living in sin! The shame, I’m shocked.” Babs and Mel laughed.

“I’ll let you and Mom talk in private, Joanie. Call me again, please?”

“Mel, one minute, I forgot the TV show’s making DVD’s of the raw and broadcast footage for me, and Warners recorded all my songs, including the rehearsals. They may use it for that follow up to ‘Timeless’ they keep asking me to do. I’m sending copies for your collection.”

“Thanks, Joanie, you’re the best.”

“You too, Mel,” I replied, and she hung up.

“So what gives, Babs, what have I to do with your love life?”

~This I have to hear. ~

“Ever since Mel nearly died Bob’s been more attentive to all of us. He said he values life more than ever seeing how close we came to losing Melissa and maybe Eric.”

“He loves his sister that much?” I asked.

“They fight each other constantly, but they’re very close -- they just won’t admit it.”

“But why am I to blame for your pregnancy, Babs?”

She laughed in response; I was very curious.

“It was your November visit that clinched it. Bob’s always taken care of himself, but after Mel’s near death he was a fanatic. Rigid exercise schedule, no excuses, and he got very careful about his diet and alcohol. He hasn’t looked this fit in years. That got me working out more, and soon we were at it like rabbits, horny rabbits. Then the night after that sleepover, wow! It’s been wonderful; a week later I was pregnant.”

I pictured her rolling her eyes in ecstasy.

“So Babs and Buster got it on, huh?”

“How’d you know my pet name for Bob?”

“Stands to reason, Ms. Babs Bunny,” I said. Babs giggled nervously. “You weren’t wearing it when you …?”

“’Fraid so, Joanie, it is my lucky sleep shirt after all.”

“Don’t get that ‘lucky’ sleep shirt near me; I don’t want to be a mother yet.” Babs stifled a snicker. I had an insight. “I think I know what I did, Babs. When Bob rescued me from that security monkey, he jogged alongside to escort me in. I told him the new me, Joanie, thought he had a great ass for an older guy. What scares me is I meant it. I’ve got to keep my dirty mouth shut, Babs.”

“So that was it. After the sleepover, he was incredible, I thought he was on Viagra. So Joanie was the aphrodisiac, damn girl you’re potent!” Babs exclaimed.

“Should I have an FDA warning label tattooed on me?” It was a while before we could stop laughing.

“Mel didn’t totally spoil my surprise, those two sets of names she picked; we’ll need them both.”

“Twins, Babs?”

“I found out today, I’m just far enough along to tell with the latest tests. Mel and Eric don’t know yet.”

“Twin boys, girls or one of each?”

“One of each they think, though that’s not certain yet. We should know in another month. Joanie, this is a lot to ask, but Bob and I want you to be their godparent and guardian.”

“Babs, me? I’m not terribly religious; I’m not sure what I believe in... You said Guardian?”

“If anything happens to Bob and me, we want you to care for our children including the twins.”

“You’re crazy, I’m not qualified. I...” Babs’s request had me dumbstruck.

“We believe in you. You don’t have to be in an organized religion to be a religious person; your actions on Labor Day are proof of your commitment to the sanctity of life. You have all these gifts, yet you don’t abuse them, and you share them at considerable risk to yourself. How much more religious do you need to be, girl? Bob and I trust you because you’re a good person not because you’re a devout whatever, Joanie. You’re no angel, but you’re okay in our books.”

“I don’t know what to say. It’s just I feel so unworthy of all this, the thoughts I have some times,” I replied sheepishly.

“I know more about you than you think, Joanie. Dad if anything is a careful man. His people checked you out after we first met, though your past before the mutation is well hidden, we did find out about your active libido.”

“Active, Babs? Saying I have an active libido is like saying the ocean is damp.” To my surprise Babs didn’t laugh.

“It’s your actions that count. You’ve done nothing illegal or immoral, and what relations you’ve had hardly qualify as much more than heavy petting. I’d gone further by the time I was thirteen than you have, much further. You may be tempted, but you show restraint. The sleepover with Mel’s friends proved that; I saw how she snuggled up to you. The way she worships you; you could have done almost anything, but you didn’t. You were like a mother or favorite older sister to her,” Babs said in a tone that spoke of love and respect.

“I’m flattered, Babs, that you trust me.”

“Girl, I’d trust you naked sleeping with Bob, though I might not trust him. Hell I’m not sure I’d trust myself with you,” Babs said, her mischievous nature reasserting itself.

“I seem to have that effect on people, scary isn’t it?”

“Better let you go, Joanie, unless you want to tell them about John and Joan?”

“I’ll leave that to you and Bob. Be careful, I know you’re only 35 but twins? E-mail me if you need me, in an emergency call Dr. Sara or MSG in Madison. I’ll send you the...”

“I have it, I said Dad was careful.”

“I don’t suppose you know my number here?” I asked Babs.

“At Whatley, no but I have the numbers to Administration and Security. How do you like living in Poe Hall? Mel got a kick out of you sleeping in a linen closet.”

“You know all that? I’ve told no one except Dr. Sara, and Jay knows the address to the Academy, but they know to tell no one.”

“Don’t worry, Dad doesn’t even know. Ms. Carson sent it via an encrypted e-mail in case of emergency; the CIA couldn’t crack it with a month on a supercomputer,” Babs assured me.

“I feel better. Tell Eric he’d better not back out on me.” I paused. “I am looking forward to it. Four kids, oh the humanity! Nite, Babs.”

“Nite, Joanie.”

* * * *

December 19, 2006 Whateley Academy, Dunwich NH, 11:00PM EST

I knew it could happen someday, I’m just surprised it happened so soon. When did I decide I was sexually interested in men? Let’s see, the second day after I woke from my mutation, I was ogling Dr. Alex, so I guess my body was programmed to respond to men from day one. Alright I’ll be honest, programmed to respond period, satisfied d/j/w? Diary/journal/whatever takes too long to type. It took my mind a little longer to come ‘round to acceptance of the men end of the spectrum apparently. It will make a day at the beach interesting; all those half-naked, wet-and-sweaty bodies to ogle and now I’ll have twice as many to choose from — hey, this mutant thing is all right!

I want to take full advantage of this second chance; I do want to have a family. Even if I will almost certainly outlive them all, I can at least enjoy the company of my descendents. Traditionally that will require the, um, services of a man. There always is the alternative of a sperm bank, but as any beer connoisseur will tell you, tap is better than the bottled stuff, not to mention much more fun. I told you not to mention it. Needed the humor break dear diary/journal/whatever as this subject is weirding me out.

If I’m going to find a suitable mate, I’ll need to analyze a statistically valid random sample of men; that means dating. That further implies having sex with some of them; I’m not ready for that yet, thank Ghod, but I do wonder what it will be like. Since I’ll need to date, it makes sense to start out easy, someone I already know, someone I can trust, and Eric fits the bill. He’s too young at the moment, but he’s physically close to the type of man I’m looking for. It’s not like I intend to marry the man, I mean boy, but I must admit if he was say 21 and fresh out of college, he’d jump to the front of the list. He’ll make a good starting reference to compare future men to.

So far I’ve responded strongest to tall men, logical given that I’m tall for a woman, though Senator Joe was ‘interesting’ for a man of just 5 foot 8. Definitely a gentleman -- rude and pushy is a turnoff: the leader of the Omegas was one, all muscle and no grace. I much prefer an honest man, reasonably smart to very smart; fit though not necessarily a jock, reddish or blond hair and a pleasant smile and a good sense of humor.

That last item is a must. I’m not sure on ethnicity; I’m used to northern European descendents, so I’d likely feel more comfortable with one. My experience is the longer I’m with people, the more I get used to them, so Asians, Latinos, African Americans could be attractive in time, but easy on the tattoos and piercings please, they gross me out. Oh yah, eyes, dark soul piercing eyes, green or blue come to mind.

~Eric has a nice pair of sapphire-blue eyes, and his hair’s a lot like mine except for a slight curl and he’s... Joanie, what did we say about obsessing over fourteen year old boys - It’s a perverse quirk of your mind because of your inherent silly streak and it could get you put in prison -. Good girl, have a cookie. ~

It worries me when my inner voice has group discussions.

* * * *

January 01, 2007, Poe Hall, my third floor linen closet, 12:30AM

So I’m being silly with the title to this entry, but these last few weeks have been weird. Ms. Carson and Student Services still haven’t worked out a long-term solution to my housing needs. For now my room is pretty Spartan as I don’t dare customize it should I be moved elsewhere. They did make one concession for me and found a secure spot in the fleet maintenance building to store my Harley when I’m not riding it. There’s talk of building a new dorm/apartment building for those staff members who’d prefer to stay on campus, but it’s only talk. They have a lot more money in the budget since my arrival, but the Halloween 2006 incident did serious damage and exposed flaws in campus security that needed immediate remedy; they don’t have the time for major new construction, maybe in the summer?

Sam Everheart has a lovely spare bedroom in her Kane tower apartment, but I wouldn’t feel right taking it. It’s her place after all and given all that’s happened to him/her in the last few years, I don’t begrudge her. To have your daughter die in your arms while your wife lies dead by your side, all that on top of the horrors of combat is bad enough. Add the deaths of friends in the assault on the lab that led to Sam’s transformation into her late daughter’s clone; I don’t know how she copes. Sometimes she seems comfortable in her new body, revels in it. Other times she’s so melancholy. The Anderson twins’ landlord, Dr. Bellows is one of Sam’s doctors, so I know she’s getting the best Whateley has to offer. Dr. Bellows has me trying several relaxation techniques and a few things I’d rather not go into detail in my d/j/w, and they do take the edge of my sexual urges.

To get back to my housing dilemma, moving in with the lovely twins is okay but only for short periods of time. A weekend is okay, but if I spend too much time in close proximity one of us slips up, and that empathic feedback loop recurs. We know the warning signs now and can delay it, but not prevent it, not entirely. We made the mistake of sharing a large bottle of wine for Christmas. I stayed at Whateley as I’d only just arrived, so they invited me over. I was melancholy as this was my first Christmas away from my family ever. I drank very little, as alcohol doesn’t do much for me as a regen, and I remember my difficulties with it as a man. The several glasses they had weakened their self-control, and we barely got out of it in time. If we’d gotten any further into the loop, there could have been brain damage to the girls, like you can get from excessively frequent epileptic seizures. My regen protects me, but I’d never have forgiven myself if they’d been hurt. I owe Dr. Bellows for that one. Definitely no alcohol for any of us when we’re around each other, it’s too dangerous.

I didn’t have a date and never was much of one for New Year’s Eve, so I worked security that night with Chief Delarose as my partner. He did get a kiss at midnight; it’s tradition. Maybe next year I’ll have a date, but when will I have time for a relationship here? Tina and Chris were a lucky accident, and as much as I desire them, in the long run it won’t work. I know now I want a family, I want to be a mother. It’s Babs pregnancy that’s convinced me, we e-mail each other often as well as Dr. Sara; it’s kind of a triangle. In her mid-thirties, two teenaged or soon to be teenaged kids and all the responsibilities of a political wife, and the thing Babs talks about most are her kids and her future twins. They are boy and girl, it’s confirmed, and they appear healthy. She’s made me promise to come when she’s due; says I need to see what she goes through for when it’s my turn. Oh joy!

* * * *

Hawthorn Hall, January 25, 2007, 8:15AM

Pinky Connors was not a happy camper. She’d had such a carefree childhood, then this... this mutant... thing happened. It was at its worst right after she changed. All those male hormones flooding her system combined with her self loathing for her “male” form made for one angry young person. Her occasional outbursts of mindless rage got her assigned to Hawthorn.

“Every other 28 days I have to endure this,” she said with disgust. “I’m so ugly, why me, Ghod?” she said out loud in her empty room.

Odd thing was her “male” form was every bit as handsome as her female form was pretty; it was all in her mind. Perhaps it was the strangeness of it all and normal teenage angst, but she felt more and more out of place, that her “male” form was so ambitious didn’t help. She was a low level empath with the ability to persuade people to do her will, but this “male” form refused to stay away despite her wishes.

“Pinky, you’ll be late for class,” a fellow student called out. She left her room, still considering her fate.

“Don’s a jerk, I’m only a freshman, and I could do a better job running the Alpha’s. He’s too caught up in the perks and personal glory,” she thought out loud, thinking of his wasting his mind control for sex nonsense. “My aunt’s right, stick to your plans and keep emotions out of it,” she mused.

Pinky’s aunt was one Amelia Hartford, as much as Aunty preferred not to admit publicly. Aunt Hartford was a cold fish to most but good at her job, at getting what she wanted, and a classy dresser, Pinky thought. She straightened her tie, buttoned her school blazer and walked into Administration. Her disgust with her alternating sexes reflected itself in her refusal to accept a boy’s name for this form.

“Ms. Hartford, may I have a few minutes with you in private?” she asked respectfully. Aunty was one for proper formality.

“I can spare five minutes, follow me, Miss Connors.” Ms. Hartford led her into an empty room and closed the door. “What is it; you know I don’t like being disturbed?” Amelia said testily.

“Sorry, Aunt Hartford, but I need your advice.”

“Well, Pinky?”

“I want to continue the family legacy with the Alpha’s, but the current leader, Don, is a fool.”

“My feelings exactly, but I’m staff, I can’t interfere except where school policy has been violated. Even if I wanted to, I can’t, it’s just not done. You need to follow Alpha protocol.”

“I’m sorry, Aunt Hartford, it’s just the Alpha’s are a laughing stock under his rule.”

“I agree, but I wouldn’t nominate myself for leadership as a freshman. At most I can suggest ways to strengthen your position, gather allies, discover weaknesses you can exploit in an effort to steer a suitable junior or senior into the post. Be patient, Don has his followers, they may be bad for the Alphas, but they are powerful. Chose your battles with care, in time you may prove worthy of such high responsibility, but there is nothing wrong with being the power behind the throne; far less dangerous for one, Pinky. Being flashy and flamboyant attracts attention, attention you may not want, like one young woman I know,” Amelia said her voice trailing off as she grimaced. “What ever you do, keep emotion out of it. It leads to bad decisions,” she said composing herself.

“Aunt Hartford, you seem upset recently, what’s bothering you?”

“Thank you for asking; she shouldn’t bother me, but she does.”

“She?”

“I know she’s harmless, just having fun at my expense but still, that Joanie.” Ms. Hartford’s expression was one of serious frustration.

“Joanie, that new staff person, Joanie the singer?”

“Yes and her holding the Meridian Chair makes me sick, she’s so immature; a post like that demands quiet dignity. Sometimes I just wish she’d go away or those Canadian kidnappers had killed her. Sorry, Pinky, that was unbecoming. As strenuously as I disapprove of Ms. Brown, she is staff and Ms. Carson’s hire. Our time is up; if your change is still troubling you, see the doctors in Siegel Hall, that’s their job.”

* * * *

That evening Pinky showered and looked at her body with loathing. Instead of her budding curves and peaches and cream complexion here was this darkly tanned, muscular young man with a touch of acne and that “thing“ below where her delicate mound used to be. That her female parts were still there, perfect and functional as ever, merely hidden by her hermaphroditic form’s scrotum and penis didn’t lessen her hatred of it. Even with the complete disappearance of her male organs every time she reverted back to her old self, she could not hide her shame. Being both male and female at once was a cruel joke to her; switching from fully female to fully male would have been easier to understand. To be herself while not herself was a bitter pill.

~Who would want this freak? ~ she thought bitterly.

That several Whateley girls eagerly wanted to date her “male” form made her very uncomfortable; the response of “it” to their advances troubled her more. It was so huge, unfeminine and she had no control over it when it got aroused, which it did frequently. She refused to touch it except for hygiene and to use the toilet yet felt compelled to try it out, to um, “jerk off”.

~Was that what boys called it? ~

Or worse, to take up those girl’s offers of sex.

“I wouldn’t give in, I swear!” she vowed to herself.

The teen years are confusing enough with the pressure of coming of age and sorting out ones sexuality but to have to do it for two sexes was overwhelming Pinky. She refused to admit it her problem or to seek help.

~Not after what happened when I ‘changed’ and that doctor... ~

She put that memory back deep under wraps, revenge could wait. Meanwhile she had her pride and would not give into the pain. Her thoughts turned back to that traitorous “thing” between her legs.

“I need to get my mind off ‘this’ and concentrate on restoring the Alpha’s to respect. If only my aunt would be my mentor, if I could gain her respect and...” she stopped talking to herself as a plan formed in her hormone flooded brain.

That she was going through two puberty’s simultaneously made her short tempered, moody and unpredictable, but her mind was quicker than ever, a side effect of her mutation. Unfortunately her disturbed emotional state was leading her into bad decisions; this one was a whopper.

“That will get Aunt Amelia’s respect; I’ll make that Joanie’s life a living hell, then my aunt will teach me how to restore the Alpha’s. Nothing violent, this Joanie likes making fun of my aunt; let’s give it back to her tenfold. I wonder if my aunt has anything I can use to leverage Peeper and Greasy? If she doesn’t or can’t tell me, it won’t matter, fear may be enough. If not those two, there are others, but they’ll make a good diversion, now to wait for the right moment,” she mused to herself.

* * * *

January 28, 2007 Whateley Academy, Dunwich NH, 5pm EDT

Dear diary/journal/whatever, a quick entry to catch up on January. I’ve been busy and got behind. This first full month at Whateley has been crazy -- even compared to my last year. I’m on a limited class schedule as a student for the spring semester because I arrived too late in the fall for a full evaluation. This works out well as I’ve more time for my staff duties, and I never intended to be a full time student, maybe half and half.

Samantha Everheart and her fellow officers have run me ragged; I think they’re warming up to me as an alternative to the Peacekeepers, the student security aids. I thought I was fairly fit, but the few times I’ve worked out with Sam, she wore me out. She’s faster, stronger, and has all that Navy Seal training and experience in her favor. Fortunately my endurance is on par with hers, and my regen means I recover fast, or these workouts would be pure hell. I am very fast and strong by human standards; none of the normal officers can match me in endurance, and I’m faster than most. A few are stronger, but that’s it. I’ve eaten with Sam a few times and her dietary requirements are proof again it pays to be careful in the cafeteria line, as if Sara Waite wasn’t proof enough. The only other person I’ve heard of that consumes what amounts to industrial raw materials was Xora, a character in several TG fiction stories. As to “proof,” I have got to find me a doctor who prescribes hard liquor as a dietary supplement.

Ms. Carson’s been kind and is only slowly building up my scheduled hours. I’ve spent hours talking with Dr. Bellows about my issues, including my growing attraction to men. He gave me some mental and physical exercises to ease my urges when I feel the need. My doctors think it’s a side effect of my extreme physical condition and years of repressing my desires. The theory is the healthier and fitter you are, the more equipped you are for intimacy, thus the greater the desire both physically and emotionally. Add my history into the mix, and it’s like standing in a pool of gasoline while lighting a cigarette. It’s not that quite that bad, but I do need to be careful especially prior to my menses.

I have my own ways of coping, and the Duracell people must love me. I don’t have a lock on my empathic/telepathic powers. I can’t do it at will; someone has to initiate the connection. That makes testing and improvement in control problematic; Tina and Chris have helped out a few times with Dr. Bellows at their rented rooms. Good thing he was there as we lost control sometimes. We may try it in one of the labs this summer when things get slow. I slept over one weekend recently, and problems were minimal. I was at a safer point in my cycle, and we avoided all but the mildest, short term mental stuff. This is a long-term project for my doctors and me.

As an additional therapy, with the enthusiastic help of Mr. King, I’ve taken up playing the guitar and am the proud owner of a Gibson Les Paul electric. It’s well suited to the kind of music I’ve recorded, though it’s reputed to be difficult to play well. It’s sometimes been referred to as the Ferrari of electric guitars. I’ve got the time, the money and the physiology, why not. After several weeks I can play a couple simple tunes, I don’t know any riffs, I’m still learning the cords, but it’s coming, anything to keep my mind off you-know-what. I’ve assisted with some classes; intro history of mutants in America was fun. Documentary reports of mutants go back to at least the American Revolution, amazing stuff.

* * * *

I helped with a PE class today, and I had fun doing it. The kids didn’t know what to make of the tall, long haired girl in the sexy, figure revealing red and black running suit, cleated shoes, ear band and gloves that came to the early morning physical conditioning session the other day. Usually this was a class in hand-to-hand combat, the sort of stuff they teach the Marines. Their instructor was ill and the department was short handed, so I was told to do anything to keep them busy. Most of the students knew who I was, but several were clueless.

“It’s simple,” I said, “just run around the course I’ve laid out around the grounds. Who ever can do more laps in fifty minutes than I do gets a passing grade and is excused from this class from May first on. Everyone else stays on for the full semester.”

This was a big incentive, a month of legal hooky from class. The department would be pissed.

~They were the one’s who told me to do “anything.” Can I help it I took them at their word? ~

“You’re on, Red,” one powerfully built boy said.

I later learned he was a brick. Mentally, I think a mason’s brick would be as bright. Did I ever tell you I can’t stand bricks? Don’t know why but I do. Maybe it’s lingering resentment at the way athletes are treated in many schools? I’ve known some “jocks” who are decent people, but I still have a blind spot here. Oh, right, dear d/j/w, back to the story.

To think that with all I been in the press the last year, he didn’t know me. Did I tell you he’s a blonde? Well, he isn’t, he’s a brunette; there goes that theory out the window.

“What you say, Red, if I beat you, instead of time off you come to my room Saturday night and learn what its like to be with a real man.”

~He is built, I give him that. The worst that could happen is he beats me, we have sex, and he dies happy. Win win for moi. ~

“You’re on, Einstein; remember stay on the course, no running through or knocking over objects or other runners,” I explained.

“Huh?”

“That means you beat me, it’s a deal, but no cheating. You win, I’m you’re personal play toy Saturday night. Ready, set, go!”

I ran at a nice, steady pace, pilling up the laps as a teacher’s aid kept count. I deliberately put a few hairpin curves in the course just to keep the speedsters honest. That part was on a woodchip path, and we’d had a light dusting of snow that night. After the first couple ran headlong into a large oak, the field slowed noticeably.

~They really should have worn cleats. ~

At fifteen minutes I’d done nearly 3 and  ¾ miles, nearly a four minute mile pace. Several speedsters had done close to ten miles but looked winded from all that slipping and sliding and smashing into things. Mr. Brick had done six and looked strong. By 30 minutes all the speedsters were long since spent

~Too fast, too spurious. ~

I’d done over eight miles as I’d picked up my pace, the best anyone had done was Mr. Brick at nearly eleven miles, but he was slowing. At 45 minutes I was at 12 plus, ahead of everyone except Mr. Brick, but he was very slow and stiff. At 50 minutes I’d passed 14 miles, and Mr. Brick was out with cramps at 13 and  ½. It was time to stop.

“To the showers, and I’m glad to see everyone wants to stay in class to the end of the semester, very commendable. If you want to try again, let your instructor know, and I’ll set up another course. Remember, pacing is everything in endurance events, that and planning; in other words, use your brain. Why do you think I wore these cleated shoes and laid out the course as I did? I noted the conditions before class and used them to my advantage. You’re well advised to keep that in mind if you ever get in a fight. I’d love to join you in a relaxing shower, but I’m late for my five mile run, ta ta!” I said taking of at a high clip as most of the class was massaging their sore and cramping legs.

~I think they’ll respect me next time. ~

* * * *

If you’d told me one year ago that I would agree to a date, at a school dance, with a male, I’d have thought you were not all there and then some. If at the same time you said I’d go on national TV and sing, I’d know you were crazy. The later has happened, the former I’ve agreed to for mid-February. How do I get myself in these messes? Why can’t I say no to these people? The TV was bad enough, my date is fourteen. Admittedly he’s a hunk for fourteen but fourteen? What was I thinking? Problem is if I back out now, he’ll be hurt, and he’s a nice young man, that and I’m kinda best friends with his sister. Joanie, Joanie, Joanie, what are you gonna do, girl?

Wait a minute, what am I so upset about; it’s just the middle school Valentine’s Day dance/senior prom, it’s just for fun? It’s not like a formal Prom where the boys book hotels rooms and smuggle in booze to get their dates drunk for sex. What’s the very worst that can happen; someone spikes the punch, Eric gets drunk, my libido goes haywire, and I end up pregnant and a registered sex offender? What’s so bad about that? Maybe I’ll get lucky, and some one will beat me half to death, and I won’t be able to make it. Nah, I’m a regen, it won’t work, pity.

Then there’s the little bombshell his mom dropped on me. A date is bad enough but what she proposes I do, be her children’s guardian, Ghods! I need my sleep tonight. In my dreams last night the sexy Goth girl promised she’d be back, something about how I was very satisfying. All I know is I slept great. Oh, the things she could do with her tentacles!

Got to go now and eat dear d/j/w, I’m on a 6pm to 2am patrol tonight; mine deliberately overlaps the full time officers, so I can work with more of them. I’m hoping to persuade the watch officer to let me “solo” for a few hours, just to prove to myself I can do it. The weather’s decent for January, the skies are clear, no worries.

* * * *

Whateley Academy Security — February 01, 2007, 8:35pm EDT

“Joanie’s late for call in; try her again,” said Lt. Forsyth, the watch officer. Delarose usually ran the more difficult night shift, but things had been slow lately, and the lieutenant wanted the experience.

“Timeout, you’re late for check in, over... No response sir,“ said Officer Harris working dispatch, he waited for a moment. “Timeout, I know you’re an auxiliary, but you know the procedure, over.”

“Still no response? We’d better check the CCTV, she may have her radio off again,” said Forsyth.

“She’s not at Crystal Hall, she was patrolling there earlier. I’ll check out... Oh Ghod.” Harris switched on the radio. “Officer down, under attack, sector seven just west of Maintenance Storage Shed Eleven; all officers respond.”

The CCTV images were disturbing. Two men were beating a prostrate form mercilessly. They ran off leaving the female in a pool of blood.

* * * *

To be continued

Revised 09/27/2006
Special thanks to my evil blonde sister for proofing assistance

Notes:

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