It was a nice hot afternoon, the perfect afternoon for a swim. I was going to enjoy myself, too. (bwa-ha-ha-ha)

In the boys' locker room, I spotted a little punk changing in a private stall. Those type, who hate anyone seeing their schlongs. This was going to be fun. "Hey, girlie. What are you doing in our locker room?"

I could see him through the slots in the stall. He was naked, cowering and facing away, bent over, his hands down in front covering something.

"I'm not a girl!" shrieked the punk.

I burst into the stall. "Prove it! Show me your beaver, Beaver."

"No, go away!" he whined, cowering. "I'm not a beaver!"

I crouched down and grabbed his ankles. I shot back up, flipping him upside down, and raised him way up, spreading his legs wide. His shriek was manna to my ears. I observed his petite schlong sticking out. "What do they call this? Yes, a clit. Lovely beaver you display."

His stomach growled. His bowels rumbled. He farted. Boy did he fart -- right in my FACE! Pewwwwwwwwww! The longest, smelliest fart ever!

I dropped him and whipped my hand at my face, fruitlessly trying to brush away the flatulence. I kicked him and fled the stall.

After diving in the pool, swimming underwater, and returning to the surface, I breathed deeply, sighing that the air was once again clean. I still remembered the stench in my face.

I was swimming upward, after having dived to the bottom of the pool, and spotted a girl's bikini-clad butt above me. She was treading water, spreading and closing her legs. Hah! Great opp! Kicking up, I reached out and up, and swiped my index finger along her crotch.

I barely dodged as she slammed her legs together and scrambled to remain afloat. Whipping my legs, I swam back downward, and surfaced a good five yards away, a couple swimmers between us.

You're kidding! That was no girl, it was ... El Wimpo himself! He, of all people, was wearing a girl's bikini bottom -- here, in public, at the pool! Boy, oh boy, the fun I was going to have.

I spotted my opportunity half an hour later. I ran out and accosted him behind an oak tree just outside the pool.

"Billy!" he exclaimed as I closed in. That was the last thing he said other than grunts and moans, because in no time flat, I had him up against the tree. My left forearm filled his mouth; my left hand rigidly held both wrists. Meanwhile, my right hand was down between his legs, free to molest him to my heart's content.

And molest him I did, at first over his bikini bottom. I knew how to make a girl feel really good ... really really good. And down there, under his bikini, he was all girl. Come to think of it, his legs didn't look bad, either.

Anyway, I knew it was working, when his "Mmg... mmg... mmg" rose to a whiny high-pitched "Nng... nng... nng!" I could even feel his moisture seeping through his bikini crotch.

I yanked the bikini front down and cupped my hand over -- a nutsack and a hardening cock! Yanking my right hand away, I slammed him aside with my left and ran off, my stomaching heaving.

My nose and mouth, and my right hand, both felt irrevocably stained as I jogged homeward -- stained with that megafart and that cock-and-ball handful. My stomach kept heaving and coughing. Nobody who has never gagged knows what it's like, no matter how often he says, "Gag!"

Whoa, could I believe my eyes? Over there across the street, was it really one of *those* guys? Whatever dared him to plant himself in *our* neighborhood? I dashed across to teach him a lesson he'd never forget.

He turned as I neared, and jumped back, landing on bent legs with his fists up. "Hah!" Feisty, wasn't he. That was all the more fun; I was itching for a fight. This boy was half a head lower; he wouldn't be too hard to take out.

Arms out for the tackle, I ran up -- right into his foot. "Ooff!" I exhaled.

A brick hit my side -- okay, it was his other foot, but still -- right under my ribs. I barely saw the flash of a karate-chop before it slammed into my neck. How underhanded! His leg swept my knees, and I was down. I barely managed to tuck my head in, and keep it from slamming the ground.

The boy was off and running almost before I noticed. Lying on the ground, pounded and aching, I couldn't resist bellowing out the last word: "You fight like a girl!"

An old wooden bridge built across a narrow ravine provided a short cut for generations of schoolchildren walking to school. But at the time of this story, the bridge was so rickety and rotten that children were warned in no uncertain terms to stay away from that bridge. Of course, such warnings couldn't keep certain children away, even to save their lives.

So far, the bridge has stood the ravages of time. There was talk of demolishing the bridge, and even replacing it with a brand-new much-stronger bridge. But so far, nothing had come of the talk.

This particular summer day, two apparent eleven-year-old girls were holding hands and walking through the fields, chatting and enjoying the companionship and the outdoors. If one looked close enough, one would still see two girls, unless one already knew them. In that case, one would see residual signs that Taylor was really a boy in disguise.

You see, besides ordering her to keep away from the bridge, Reese's parents have barred her from being alone with boys. Of course, this had as much success with Reese as the bridge prohibition did. Taylor simply disguised herself as a girl whenever she visited.

Unfortunately, the pleasant stroll through the fields was interrupted by an abrasive voice from a good distance away: "Hey look! Taylor thinks he's a girl, and he's holding hands with a girl."

Reese and Taylor both turned toward the voice. A big boy, followed by other big boys, were all running toward the girls. "Let's get'em!"

Reese and Taylor turned and ran. The chase was on. Reese ran as fast as she could. She glanced back, and saw Taylor a few yards behind her, but the bullies rapidly gained on them.

Reese noticed only just then that they were running toward the old little bridge. Because of the warnings against it, she had contrarily not only crossed the bridge numerous times, she'd explored all parts of it.

"This way!" she shouted, as she turned and ran directly toward the bridge, adding a spurt of speed. She ran onto the bridge and crossed it, and heard Taylor's footsteps right behind her.

"Down here!" She turned and clambered down to a ledge hidden under the end of the bridge, just behind the crevice below. Taylor had just begun her climb down to the ledge, when the boys reached the bridge. They could hear the boys tramping on the bridge, and frighteningly, they heard the bridge groan, creak, and crack, and swing and sway.

Taylor joined Reese on the ledge, puffing from the running and the climb down. She was only able to huff, "Do you think--" before the bridge broke through and parts fell down on them both.

"Taylor!" screamed Reese, worried about her friend.

"I'm still here, and mostly okay -- I think." Taylor pushed her way to Reese, took her in her arms, and gave her a good long kiss, which Reese gladly reciprocated.

Reese looked down into the crevice. The bullies were apparently all there. A couple were struggling to get up.

"We should get help for those boys," said Taylor, as she began to climb back up to the surface.

"Definitely," agreed Reese. She turned and look back at the bridge remains. "I never thought I'd see this bridge finally collapse -- especially standing underneath it."

You see, the bridge wasn't bad. It was merely miss-understood.

The Headmaster sat at his desk in the dark of his bedroom, brooding over his New Year's Resolution. How was he ever going to do this?

Was it his imagination, or was the room even darker? Looking around, the Headmaster couldn't identify any actual difference, but it somehow seemed darker. After a moment, he identified the issue: it wasn't the light but the sound. The muffled sound of his wife and her guests listening to the Times Square celebration of the New Year had vanished.

"Are you seriously determined about your New Year's Resolution, my young man?" came a still small voice.

The Headmaster was having serious doubts now.

Nevertheless, when school resumed after Christmas Vacation, the Headmaster announced his firm New Year's resolution to return education to strict conformity with the Bible.

"You are all upstanding young men, and your Teachers and Masters are upstanding Christian... men... and the Lord bless you all."

"`Let there be light and there was light'," said our science teacher Dr. Westheimer, out of the blue sky and green pasture during class. "This passage from Genesis refers to the Big Bang."

I nervously lifted my hand. "Yes, Clarkson?" said Dr. Westheimer, giving my last name.

"Genesis tells us," I couldn't help stammering. Terrified, I pressed on, having to push hard. "The earth was created before `Let there be light.'" I paused to breath and compose further words. "Astronomers say the Big Bang made all matter as hydrogen, and everything else come into existance only after, like, uh, formed from hydrogen, by stars."

Dr. Westheimer was leaning forward, visibly discomforted, and I was scared of getting into trouble. "Thank you, Clarkson. Yes, McPhearson?" Dr. Westheimer indicated another student, even as he perceptibly darkened and deepened bit by bit into shades of purple and blue.

"According to astronomy, the earth was created along with the sun, a star itself -- closer to the present time than the original creation." He spoke with more strength and resolution than me. Dr. Westheimer headed to his desk while the second student spoke.

"Thank you. Meanwhile", he wavered, definitely changing, and not merely his color. "Read Chapter 18, and begin the assignment once you've finished. I'll put it on the whiteboard."

After reading that chapter, I copied the assignment on the board into my notebook, and began work. I finished right at the end of class, and handed in the assignment as I walked out of class. Dr. Westheimer had by now developed the purple-and-blue form of a thin girl with sparkly stars, patches of light blue-green crossed with stripes of white, and blue and purple layers of hair extending almost to her waist, also speckled with stars. Her eyes had grown huge, wide, and pointy.

Wednesday morning, we always had Chapel before the first period of class. We began with a hymn, followed by Notices and Admonitions. This time, our Headmaster stood at the podium.

"Proverbs 16:20 Whoever gives heed to instruction prospers, and blessed is the one who trusts in the LORD." This Proverb is of critical importance. A few of us have undergone surprise transformations. Unwanted as they may be, remember to trust in the Lord. One of our teachers, Master Westheimer, has undergone such a transformation himself. Remember, in whatever form he may occupy, he is still your science instructor."

I sort-of fogged out, or forgot what followed. The next thing I remember was this: "We must recognize the sheer importance of Isaiah's prophecy of the Christ. The State of Judah was surrounded by warfare on all sides, and itself was under the threat of warfare. Despite this immediate threat, Isaiah prophesied the event that would occur around seven hundred years in the future: the Virgin Mary would bear a child and call him Immanuel. While his mortal name was Jesus, Yeshua, or Joshua, he was in full reality Immanuel, `God with Us', the Son, the face of the Holy Trinity present among us.

"It must be thoroughly understood that the Lord's sense of importance may not resemble humanity's sense of importance. Humans tend to view the immediate situation, while God, the All-Knowing and All-Wise sees beyond the immediate into the future." The headmaster seemed to be twitching and shifting, while trying to maintain his pose and posture.

"I shall now turn over the service to Chaplin Johnson." The headmaster turned away, leaning forward, visibly uncomfortable, and left the stage.

"Gentlemen," said Dr. Westheimer a couple weeks into the term. By then, *she* was resigned to her new form and *we* were resigned to a blue-and-purple apparent anime teen girl, wide-eyed and very pretty, teaching science. "I am exceptionally pleased to announce that a student has volunteered to give his first term presentation. Regenbogen?"

The student strode up and wrote "The Rainbow" on the whiteboard and faced the audience.

"The Rainbow," began the student. "This is about the bow that we often see in the sky when it rains. The rainbow appears in the Bible, given as a promise after the Flood that God would never send such a flood again."

"... Green, blue, and violet have a progressively greater index of refraction in water, and all are greater than red's. That's why their light-rays are bent more. The index of refraction is about 1.3, and the variation is in the next digit."

Um, what was happening to the speaker? Was it my imagination, or was he turning a faint sky-blue as he spoke?

"The outgoing rays go in different directions. For the light to hit your eyes, different drops have to reflect different colored light into your eyes." He drew the red light hitting an eye. Then he drew another circle, but this time the green light hit the eye. "That's why we see the rainbow, with different colors in different directions."

My imagination was really working overtime now. His eyes seemed to grow out wide and end in points.

"... It doesn't matter how far the raindrops are. They could be rain up in the sky a couple miles away, or they could be mist sprayed in front of your car as a truck drives by. What matters is the direction of the light scatters from the raindrops into your eyes."

By now, I knew it wasn't my imagination. His hair was growing out, fluffing up, and turning multicolored -- the colors of the rainbow, in fact. I glanced around to see others apparently mesmerized by his change.

"Sometimes, one can see a circular rainbow when walking by a sprinkler. It's the same phenomenon."

"... And *that*, my friends, is how we get the rainbow. But what the -- questions, anyone?" he brushed green and yellow hair from his eyes, his piercing voice having risen about two octaves. Nobody answered.

He -- or was it she now? -- was only a head shorter, but a whole lot thinner. Her rainbow hair extended down in back almost to her waist. Her black slacks had turned rainbow-colored, as had her open jacket, and her white blouse was decorated with rainbow lightning bolts. Her skin, what was visible, was a light sky-blue.

The student returned to her desk, muttering something barely audible about something very wrong. "Psst Regenbogen," whispered a student as he passed by. "Are you supposed to be Rainbow Dash?"

Another student gave a speech about Judas's betrayal of Jesus for 30 pieces of silver, and the prophecies thereof in the Old Testament. The speech consisted mostly of passages from the Bible.

Matthew 26: 14, 15 Then one of the twelve, called Judas Iscariot, went unto the chief priests, and said unto them, What will ye give me, and I will deliver him unto you? And they covenanted with him for thirty pieces of silver.
 

Matthew 27: 3-5 Then Judas, which had betrayed him, when he saw that he was condemned, repented himself, and brought again the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and elders, saying, I have sinned in that I have betrayed the innocent blood. And they said, What is that to us? See thou to that. And he cast down the pieces of silver in the temple, and departed, and went and hanged himself.
 

Matthew 27: 6-8 And the chief priests took the silver pieces, and said, It is not lawful for to put them into the treasury, because it is the price of blood. And they took counsel, and bought with them the potter's field, to bury strangers in. Wherefore that field was called, The field of blood, unto this day.
 

Matthew 27: 9, 10 Then was fulfilled that which was spoken by Jeremy -- that's how Matthew called Jeremiah -- the prophet, saying, And they took the thirty pieces of silver, the price of him that was valued, whom they of the children of Israel did value; and gave them for the potter's field, as the Lord appointed me.
 

Jeremiah 19: 1 Thus saith the LORD, Go and get a potter's earthen bottle, and take of the ancients of the people, and of the ancients of the priests;
 

Jeremiah 19: 6 Therefore, behold, the days come, saith the LORD, that this place shall no more be called Tophet, nor The valley of the son of Hinnom, but The valley of slaughter.
 

Jeremiah 19: 10 Then shalt thou break the bottle in the sight of the men that go with thee.
 

Jeremiah 32: 6-10 And Jeremiah said, The word of the LORD came unto me, saying, Behold, Hanameel the son of Shallum thine uncle shall come unto thee, saying, Buy thee my field that is in Anathoth: for the right of redemption is thine to buy it. So Hanameel mine uncle's son came to me in the court of the prison according to the word of the LORD, and said unto me, Buy my field, I pray thee, that is in Anathoth, which is in the country of Benjamin: for the right of inheritance is thine, and the redemption is thine; buy it for thyself. Then I knew that this was the word of the LORD. And I bought the field of Hanameel my uncle's son, that was in Anathoth, and weighed him the money, even seventeen shekels of silver. And I subscribed the evidence, and sealed it, and took witnesses, and weighed him the money in the balances.
 

Jeremiah 32: 15 For thus saith the LORD of hosts, the God of Israel; Houses and fields and vineyards shall be possessed again in this land.
 

Zechariah 11: 12, 13 And I said unto them, If ye think good, give me my price; and if not, forbear. So they weighed for my price thirty pieces of silver. And the LORD said unto me, Cast it unto the potter: a goodly price that I was prised at of them. And I took the thirty pieces of silver, and cast them to the potter in the house of the LORD.

By the end of his speech, the speaker was a dark metallic girl with dark metallic clothing and flashing sliver hair. His eyes matched his hair.

I realized much later how his change had pushed aside my own confusion about the Jeremiah passages and their connection with Judas's betrayal of Jesus.

Late one afternoon when I returned to my dorm room to prepare for dinner, I couldn't help gawking in amazement and arousal at the girl, hyper-attractive with her pair of five-inch-long inch-thick fangs extending far below her chin, large pointy ears that kept twitching, and claws at her fingertips.

It took a few seconds to recognize the young, um, person there as my roommate, his own features underlying the catgirl's, who appeared perhaps eleven, twelve, or at most thirteen. "Not you, Al," I said.

"I spoke about felines in Biology today," she said, her ears twitching at random. "That's when this happened."

"So how old are you now?" I asked, unable to think of anything else at the moment.

"I'm fifteen," she said with a snarl. "I've lived for fifteen years, so that makes me fifteen years old. Don't believe the nonsense that fifty-year-old man who gets a three-year-old body is three years old."

"You're body isn't a three-year-old's," I said stupidly.

"You know what I mean."

As the end of the semester approached, Al asked, "Do you think our Reverend Headmaster is... expectant?"

"After all this?" I'd noticed a distinct bulge in his waist as well. "Should anyone be surprised? Maybe it's an immaculate conception. Perhaps whatever did this implanted a uterus in him."

Heed well, Ladies. The Devil can read the Bible as well as you.

"Bru, love, you're up doll. Beat this!"
          -- BarbieLee

I took the liberty of accepting the challenge issued to Bru.

The lovely contralto, Madison Tradillador, gradually worked through the crowd, singing the finale of the tragic romantic ballad beloved by teens and adults alike, men and women everywhere. The singer paused in front of a man frozen in the tragic moment, as the final words of the song dissipated into the complete silence.

"Good singing, Mister!" blurted the three-year-old toddler seated atop the man's shoulders, his voice piercing the auditorium.

"Why thank you, young man!" answered Madison Tradillador in his masculine voice, smiling, shrugging, and slipping his wig off, displaying his nearly bald head and unambiguous male visage -- all to the accompaniment of hysterical laughter and applause of the audience.

He was afraid to come out of his bedroom.
He was as nervous as he could be.
He was afraid to come out of his bedroom.
He was afraid that his family would see.
Two, three, four, tell the people what he wore.

He wore a folded-pleated, creamy-khaki, leg-revealing, mid-thigh skirt.
Because the 90s the temperature would hit.
A folded-pleated, creamy-khaki, leg-revealing, mid-thigh skirt.
Because his shorts did his school forbid.
Two, three, four, stick around we'll tell you more.

He was afraid of the school bus to take,
So his bike to his school did he ride.
He cursed out agreements with friends he did make,
As along the back roads he did ride.
Two, three, four, tell the people what he wore.

He wore a folded-pleated, creamy-khaki, leg-revealing, mid-thigh skirt.
96 degrees, so it was told.
A folded-pleated, creamy-khaki, leg-revealing, mid-thigh skirt.
So to his school on his bike he rode.
Two, three, four, stick around we'll tell you more.

He was afraid to come out of the bike lock.
Terrified his schoolmates might see.
He was afraid to come out of the bike lock.
So to his first class he tardy will be.
Two, three, four, tell the people what he wore.

He wore a folded-pleated, creamy-khaki, leg-revealing, mid-thigh skirt.
And his schoolmates saw him well.
His schoolmates also wore the skirt,
And now he's relieved as Hell.

My cell-phone chimes rang, indicating a text. I picked up my phone. The text was from... Great Grandma Gloucester?

I texted back, "Hey, GGMa!" Then "Nice 2 read U!" "U can text!"

GGMa: "I've just learned." "And you're already using 1337 with me!"

Me: "My respect for U and Ur texting."

GGMa: "I'm flattered." "Is Ur mom with you?"

"Hey, Mom. It's Great-Grandma Gloucester! She wants to text you." I handed her my phone.

Mom fingered things into the phone, thumbing one last key with a flourish, followed by a grimace. "Auto-correct again!" she said to me. "It definitely has a sense for the absurd." She returned, and fingered in more, until -- "Oh, my grating hemlocks!" That last word came out faint, and she began a slow collapse.

I managed to get to her in time, to set her onto the couch. I picked up the phone and saw the exchange:

Mom: "Hey, Grandma Gloucester!" "How's my pregnant Grandmother-in-Law?"

GGMa: "Jenny, Dear! How did U ever find out?"

Mom had been in the middle of a text when she collapsed: "Sorry, I meant".

Mom was just beginning to recover when my baby sister burst in. "Hey Mommy, Taylor! Great-Grandmother Bainbridge got knocked up a couple months ago! She's having twins!"

The Boy dashed up the front porch stairs and jammed the doorbell hard. The door opened to reveal the Girl, who exclaimed, "Hey, there! Come on in. Have a seat and let me get you a Coke. You're as flustered as a flurry."

The Boy flopped down on one end of the sofa, and watched her walking into the kitchen. Gosh, how cute she was, he thought, forgetting his fears, thinking for the moment only of her tall full-fledged stout figure. She was wearing dark blue jeans that smoothly covered her ass, thighs, legs, and crotch. A bright neon-green sleeveless shirt molded her breasts, and left a couple of inches of skin bare above her jeans, exposing her belly button. The shirt hugged her torso too smoothly for her to be wearing any kind of bra, and her nipples were pushing up against the fabric. Her long jet-black hair draped over her shoulders, and extended down to cover her breasts. Her underarms were hairless, and her perfectly-pedicured bare feet lacked the toenail paint so prevalent these days.

The Boy wondered if the Girl knew how unbearably hot she looked. She seemed so innocent and pure, yet lusty and hot at the same time. She was an inch or two taller than him.

The Girl was also older than him. She had a car, and presumably a driver's license. The Boy, to his mortification, was too young to drive -- too young for even a learner's permit. He had only just turned fifteen. He wondered with no little shame how the Girl deigned to so much as notice him, let alone go on a date with him.

The Girl returned with a glass of Coca-Cola with ice for him, and a glass of what he guessed must have been soybean milk for herself. She settled down and lay back against the opposite end of the sofa, and stretched out her legs along the sofa toward him, flexing her toes enticingly.

"Okay," she said. "Now that you've calmed down, what happened?"

The Boy breathed in suddenly, terrified again at the thought of what he'd heard. "A friend told me about a gang initiation ritual. The guys drive at night with headlights off. Another driver flashes his headlights to signal them. Then the guys go after the other driver, force him off the road, and kill him." Suppose they encountered the gang when they went to the movies tonight, wondered The Boy in panic.

"I've heard that story. It's an urban legend, nothing more," commented the Girl.

"But it was a police officer who told her!"

"Come here, let me show you something." She got up and took the Boy's hand. Nervous, excited, and weirded-out holding a Girl's hand, he let her pull him up and lead him down to her bedroom. He gulped and tried to swallow in nervous excitement. He'd never been in a Girl's bedroom before, except his sister's a long time ago.

The Girl passed by her bed, and led him to her computer. "Have a seat," she said. Curious, the Boy sat down. Standing to his left, the Girl clicked a few mouse clicks and a web page appeared.

"This is Snopes, an urban legends archive," continued the Girl as the Boy read with interest. Apparently the story of the gang initiation ritual was at least a decade and a half old and migrated from city to city without a single death being reported. Often, surprisingly, police departments were responsible for spreading the rumor.

"The police are surprisingly boneheaded about urban legends. On the other hand, this site becomes boneheaded once in a while. In 2001, they did a major hatchet job on Green Party icon Nancy Oden. So we really should check its claims." The Girl clicked a few more times, and the Boy found himself facing a decade-and-a-half-old news article, reporting essentially the same facts as the web site.

The Boy still felt nervous and uncertain. What if there were something to it, despite all this? "What about the movie? Should we be going now?" He was still a little scared that they might have such an encounter tonight.

The Girl didn't respond for a while. She walked over to her bed and lay on her back, with her legs stretched out toward him. "Why not watch a DVD? Nobody's going to be home for a while; we'll be by ourselves." She smiled innocently at him, and he blushed horribly. "We'll have dinner here as well." She took a remote control and clicked a couple times. A wide television screen started up.

The Boy turned and sat on the bed between her feet, facing the screen. The standard dire messages about copyrights, copying, and unauthorized display appeared, and the movie began. It was something he'd never heard of -- "Interstate 60" -- but it was directed by a familiar name, Bob Dale of the "Back to the Future" trilogy.

The boy was cheered to see Michael J. Fox appear as well, but was a little disappointed to find that Fox was playing a major-league foul-mouthed asshole who stupidly earned himself an immediate demise. But he was also happy to see Christopher Lloyd as a major supporting character.

As engrossed as he was in the movie, he found himself glancing at the Girl's feet on either side of him. The Girl was occasionally flexing her feet and spreading her toes in a particularly enticing manner.

Finally, he reached down and touched the Girl's foot on his left side. He heard a soft giggle, and jerked his hand away.

"No, no, don't stop," she assured him. "I like it." So the Boy continued playing with her feet, tickling, caressing, and massaging them in turn, while watching the
movie. His hands slid back up her lower legs, feeling through her jeans.

A scene in the movie remind him of something scary, and he quickly turned toward the Girl on the bed. "Two or three days ago, my Mom received a letter in the
mail. It told her to photocopy the letter and send ten copies on to friends and relatives. For luck. Those who did had good things happen, while --"

"-- those who broke the chain typically encountered unspeakable disasters."

"Yeah. Accidents, misfortune, and worse. Mom just threw the letter out. She said the stuff was garbage. Fearmongering. But how could she know? What if she was wrong?" The Boy was almost in tears from panic.

"Oh, my poor Boy." The Girl sat up and embraced the Boy, pulling him down on top of her. His arms encircled her automatically, and somehow his hands found their way up her back underneath her shirt. As he'd thought, she wasn't wearing a bra. She kissed him fully on the mouth, making him so excited that he forgot his fear and what made him frightened.

Just then, the Girl pushed him away. What happened, he wondered. Did he do something wrong? But no. The Girl pulled the shirt up over her head and tossed it aside. The Boy gazed at her breasts -- how perfect they were! He'd never seen anything like them before. The Girl then pulled on the hem of his shirt. He took that as a suggestion, and pulled off his own shirt. Then she pulled him back down on her and they kissed some more.

The feeling of her breasts up against his torso was almost too much. He slid himself down and began nibbling on her left breast. She gasped. He kept sucking her breast, taking her nipple in his mouth and tonguing. "Yes! Yes, more! More!"

After a while, he nibbled across to the other breast, and focused his mouth and tongue on that for the next few minutes.

He nibbled down to her belly button, the girl twitching at every touch of his mouth. At one point, she lifted up her midsection and slid off her jeans and panties, releasing an intoxicating, musky odor. Not believing he was actually doing this, the Boy propped himself up, and began removing his own pants and underpants.
His rock-hard penis had just popped free of his underpants when he suddenly thought of something else. "Today in gym, some guys were talking about killer Demon-girls, who lure men into their clutches and perform satanic pagan rituals, impregnating themselves, and devouring the men in their lust!" The Boy was Really, Really Scared now.

The Girl pulled him down against her and held him close, comforting him. She asked if any signs of satanic pagan rituals had been found. "No, they're careful not to leave tracks." The Boy realized what the Girl would say next, something contemptuous about believing something without evidence. But she only pointed out that satanism and paganism were two different things.

The Boy was almost convinced when he remembered. "But what about Dr. Thompson, the physics teacher? He disappeared!"

"Don't you remember? He was caught in flagrante delicto with a cheerleader."

"In flagrant what?"

"Caught in the Act with a cheerleader in his class. He was fired and left the town."

Oh, the Boy thought. He pulled off his pants and returned to the subject at hand, the Girl's luscious body. They kissed, and he slipped down and kissed her neck. That produced a surprised raspy gasp from the Girl, and he kissed and nibbled her neck some more.

A musky odor attracted him southward again, and it was all he could do to maintain a slow, deliberate pace of kissing down the Girl's front. He kissed her breasts and tongued her nipples. He slid on down to her belly button and tongued that.

Afterwards, he took a detour off to the side, kissing and tonguing the side of the Girl's belly. Every touch of his made the girl twitch. She frequently giggled a high-pitched silver-bell sound, and sometimes gasped.

He couldn't believe it -- was he really here, doing something he had always fantasized doing? He worked his way across her belly to the other side, and then slowly down the edge of her crotch, the source of the intoxicating odor.

He licked and softly bit on a tendon at the edge and the Girl gasped and lifted up her crotch. He wasn't sure, did he quite dare? He blew softly on her crotch, and the Girl softly moaned and lifted her crotch into his face. He licked up the Girl's slit, and then pushed his mouth fully on her pussy.

His tongue found a hole, and just above that a tiny hard spot. The Girl's pussy was secreting a soft nectar of a taste the Boy had never encountered before -- not too sweet, not too sour, just right. He lapped the nectar up as more and more was produced; he could never get enough. Deeper, deeper, he licked, trying to get ever more and more, getting down farther and farther inside, until --

CHOMP-CHOMP-CHOMP-CHOMP-CHOMP

The Boy was sucked all the way in. The Girl emitted a huge farting sound from her pussy, and issued a sigh of contentment.

"Satanic pagan rituals, indeed!" she muttered to herself. "All we want is a good meal now and then. But geez, I shall miss him."

Also see Wikipedia's article on Dissociated Press.

Bryce Mansfield put the finishing touches of make-up on his face. There wouldn't have been enough cards for seven players. Not unless only four cards were nice and warm, and the end, didn't.

"Um, shall it be, little Rarity?" asked Ryan. "Bare your cute little kicker friend with Lady ZogMyrf?" Major Itbmpt asked SmrkTech Systems Administrator Skrug, glancing at the screen displaying the personage in her Tube. She was hooked up to numerous wires, three intravenous feeding lines, and various other medical devices.

"Smoothly, sir," answered Skrug. "Lady ZogMyrf?" Major Itbmpt asked SmrkTech Systems Administrator Skrug, glancing at the screen displaying the personage in her throat. Her entire body aroused in shocked excitement at Ryan's attempt, and she needed her house and room key, but didn't have pockets or any student's voice; it's was Baba's!

She raised her arms up, and interleaved her fingers behind her head, exposing her underarms.

"Got that she just might have to sneak around him. Hold him tight; you have to help me help." A girl leaning over her helped to shift her into a more comfortable Indian-style sitting position. "Are you okay now?"

"Thanks," breathed Rarity, feeling light and liberating. If she'd known how nice it now, in real time, because before she knew it, Ryan called, "Time!" Rarity." Bryce, he would retaliate somehow or other. It occurred to dress up as a twelve-year-old age, if necessary."

"We just might have worn your leotard instead."

"True."

Bert dealt the deal. She wondered why; she thought she inhaled deeply, and sighed in pleasure.

Meanwhile, Bert lay on his side, and curled up in bliss. Her eyes and face went vacant, her face with a jaw-dropped smile at Ryan. "I just thought this would be nice for a moment apparently decided to spread-legged."

"Yeah," continued Addison. "He hooks his shoulder, before pulling away and settling back down.

Jim backed off Bert's legs, exclaiming, "Phew!" Only then did Rarity consciously notice the odor, a variation on her knee, and tensed preparing to push. After a moment, he asked, "Are you ready to depart. She needed her house and room, Rarity took off her clothes, and dumped them in the hamper, having decided that she would be to renege on the game. Everyone but Ryan.

Ryan.

Ryan returned to his spot in the circle.

Leah shortly came to. "What happened? Did Rarity consciously notice the odor, a variation on the smell she recognized where Bert lost his shirt, leaving himself only a short distance to the car, parked next to her dorm. Rarity wondered Rarity. What the heck was going on? Okay, he never tried it again.

It took ever more work, but they're taking off next week. Tomorrow, we leave early to visit Grandma and Grandpa tomorrow!" The second lash came with a shriek.

"Ryan! I was doing something private!" Rarity took in her panties had somehow shifted itself into exactly the right. "Ryan, Bert?"

They attacked, and she shrieked, slamming her elbows down.

Leah lost next, in only her bikini bottoms. Ryan ominously proclaimed, "Big decision now, Addi." She shuffled and dealt like a pro, and Rarity shortly had five more times, before having Mama carry her upstairs and tuck her into a pair of pale-blue flip-flops. She went bra-less this time, because her?'

"Let's do a penalty instead." Silence; everyone was curious. "Bert, hands behind, after demonstrating a high roundhouse kick. Three boys were applauding her hand, and replied, "I'm Rarity Kao."

"Wanna play with us?" asked Ryan.

The deals continued. Jim lost his shirt, and Leah unexpectedly removed her shorts instead." He grabbed her by the waist and tossed her up. She shrieked and laughed in excitement and grabbed his bare shoulders as she came unexpectedly, and Rarity certainly wasn't up to it now!"

Fatigued as he slid his cutoffs down and off. "Ick!" He dangled his partially-dry cum-soaked pants, holding them as far away as possible. "These get tossed." He dashed to avoid the tickling was strictly limited: she could only twist her torso a little, and carried them, as she jogged to the park entrance.

The key was irritating her by the the others, although it seemed that Addison's parents, Mama and Baba.

"Addison Joan Bailey," said Addison's mom, pulling Addison to her feet, and the monstrously tall forms of both parents were shouting down from the swing." He laughed at the crazy notion, and wondered for a moment why nobody at Ryan and backed off to her spot in the circle.

Leah shortly came to. "What happened? Did I fall asleep or something up fast; she hadn't thought about it beforehand. "I have an older sister, Celestia." Having named herself Rarity, that seemed the most natural -- she couldn't have been, because he nothing to lose with a queen, but she was nervous with only two men and two women descending on them. She it took her thighs, and exposure. Following Ryan's inquiry. "Tickle time, of course."

Bert lost again several days, when the fear of exposure got to tickle one of old age, if necessary."

"We just might have to do that," said the Major. "She was punctuated with gasps, high-pitched "Ah!" shrieked Addison as she continued jogging down the sidewalk back to the house. In the boys and girls! Selecting the young man's girl who didn't belong on campus, especially at night.

Back in Bryce's room, Rarity took her sudden fear of having forgotten, Rarity asked, "Are we supposed to go swimming tonight?"

"Nah," she answered, tossing a smile at Ryan. "I tell you, tickle under his arms." The two girls were now topless in panties. Was he bleeding down there? He felt all-nighter!" said Madison.

That's right, Rarity remembered. They would be on Spring Break all next to Ryan. "At the turn of events, especially as she had suggested this herself to act normally, as if she could barely move with the agony in her butt and thighs, but she managed to go outside *en femme* as a little girl. He'd go to each of them, and they nodded and smiled.

"Everyone all of this mayhem, her key in her panties had somehow or other. It occurred to her that she was naked, her gaff-panty was gone, and finally Rarity on Ryan's right. "First ace deals first," said Ryan, shuffling the tickling's short, right?" she asked uneasily.

"Yeah. Just adjusted her, squeezing her arms, and preventing any further successful attack.

I'd just finished combing our daughter Cherry's hair, parting her hair on her left side, and now I stood back from her, hands on her shoulders. "You make a handsome, elegant picture," I told Cherry, with all the pride of a father. My wife, Brianna, was making the finishing touches on her hair, tucking it under to give it a light androgynous impression.

"She's truly all grown up now," added Brianna, tears in her eyes. Indeed she was, and she would be off to Pacific Tech in the fall, almost before we knew it.

Cherry's cheeks turned faintly red. "Aw, Momma, Daddy, I'll always be your daughter."

Brianna and Cherry had done the lion's share of the work dressing up and preparing Cherry for the Prom. It was all way too complicated for me, although I did contribute a little, helping here and there, reserving the corsage, and taking Cherry to pick out and be fitted for her tuxedo.

Brianna had both feared and anticipated this time, a milestone in the life of her precious baby daughter. Meanwhile, I'd also noticed that our son Liam, a sophomore and two and a half years younger than Cherry, was also growing up.

"If she's happy with whoever she chooses," I'd told Brianna once. "You'll be happy for her. Right? I'm sure I will. I hope," I'd added as a soft afterthought, mostly to myself.

Nevertheless, we were both surprised when Cherry announced that she would attend the Senior Prom in the man's role. I recovered first; when we were alone, I reminded Brianna that if Cherry was happy then we were happy.

We were going to meet Cherry's date at her house, to do the photographing and the other standard pre-Prom bits. Brianna and I would meet her lady friend for the first time, and a rental limousine would be ready to take them to the Prom. Hopefully, the standard interrogation by her parents would be limited.

"Well, shall we go now?" I asked nobody in particular.

"No, not yet. I want to get a few pictures in," answered Brianna. So we had to do the photography thing here at home as well. Aware of this evening's events, I'd remained in my work outfit. Brianna got in a few pictures of Cherry and me, arms around each other. "You two make a cute couple."

"Ew, Momma." Cherry pulled away. "That's Daddy there!" as if Brianna had forgotten.

"Oh, I know," said Brianna. "Makes it all the more adorable!" She sighed. "Too bad Liam wouldn't be here for this once-in-a-lifetime event."

I agreed. "'Tis indeed a pity." He simply had to be off doing who-knows-what with his pals.

After a few more pictures of Cherry and Brianna, Cherry and me, and Cherry by herself, Brianna announced that it was time to go and meet Cherry's lady friend. I retrieved the box with the corsage from the refrigerator, and handed it to Cherry.

It was only a couple blocks walk. I admit, I couldn't help being nervous about the visit, and Cherry looked nervous as well. I kept wondering what could go wrong.

At the front door, Cherry met each of our eyes, and rang.

A young lady answered the door, a pretty girl a year or two younger than Cherry, nicely dressed in a skirt and blouse, not dressed for the Prom of course; she wasn't Cherry's date. I couldn't help checking her out, as surreptitiously as possible. "Hey, Cherry!" She quickly embraced her, then turned to us. "Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Brown. Please come in. I'm Melda." We followed her into the living room.

"Mom, Dad! They're here!" called out Melda. She turned back to us, as her parents entered. "Leigh'll be down in a few minutes. She's not my sister, by the way. Her parents were unable to prepare her for the Prom, so we took on the job." Well, that wasn't nice of her parents! I glanced at Brianna, meeting her eye, getting the identical sentiment from her.

Sure enough, the interrogation began. Melda's mother said, "I have to admit to the strangeness of the situation."

"Yes, indeed," answered Brianna. "It is strange. I only hope that nobody reacts badly to Cherry and Leigh together."

"Only a decade or so ago," I added, "Many people would have reacted badly to something that -- let's face it -- is none of their business. When we first heard about this, we had to remind ourselves that if Cherry's happy, we're happy. Right Brianna?"

"Absolutely."

The conversation drifted around to different topics, including Cherry's plans for school -- Pacific Tech, of course. Things ended when Melda announced, "Leigh's coming!"

We turned as one toward the stairs. Atop appeared a vision of loveliness yet simplicity totally appropriate for the Senior Prom. Leigh wore a sky-blue sleeveless, ankle-length gown, along with tights and high heels. Her long hair draped over the front of her shoulders.

Two friends escorted her, a young lady to her right, and a young man to her left. She slowly descended the stairs, holding the front of her gown up to help her step forward and down.

Cherry went forward. "Hello, Leigh." She presented Leigh with the yellow corsage, wrapping it around her left wrist. "This is lovely," said Leigh, in a soft, shy voice.

As Leigh embraced Cherry, she looked over at us, and I caught her eye. I managed to limit my reaction to widening my eyes momentarily, as I realized the extent of the strangeness at hand. If Brianna noticed, she gave no indication.

Again, we went through the process of having taking photographs, mostly of Cherry and Leigh together, but also of everyone with everyone else in various combinations. Of the two friends besides Melda, the girl was Wanda and the boy was Espen. My suspicions aroused, I recognized Melda as a boy proficiently posing as a girl, but wasn't sure about Wanda. I was pretty sure that Espen was a genuine boy.

But as we photographed and videoed Cherry and Leigh escorting each other to the waiting limousine, nothing weirded me out as much as my daughter and son reversing roles and going with each other to the Senior Prom.

With apologies to Sesame Street, I just had to get this out of my head.

Five People in My Family

There is a mother,
and two fathers,
and a brother,
and a sis.

The END

Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Jill. She was six years old, and already in first grade, and very proud of her achievement. Now, the family was poor, but she'd always been taught that she could do anything if she put her mind to it.

One day, she found a penny on the ground. She picked it up and ran home.

"Mommy, Daddy! Look what I found!" She showed her family the penny. "I'm gonna plant it and grow a nice big tree, and give us lots of money."

"That's very nice, Jill," said Mommy, "but pennies don't grow. They aren't seeds."

"It certainly won't grow," agreed Daddy.

Big Brother said something as well, something Jill couldn't understand in the least. Humph! Just because he was a big boy, already thirteen years old, doesn't mean he could clobber her with big words that she couldn't understand. After all, she could do anything if she put her mind to it.

She went to the backyard, dug a small hole, and buried the penny in the ground.

Every day before school, Jill watered the seed with water. Every day after school, after changing out of her school dress, she watered the seed with milk, and nourished the seed with honey. After all, she learned in Sunday School that the ancient Israelites were promised a Land of Milk and Honey.

Once, Jill overheard Big Brother telling his friends, "She's still watering that penny, thinking it will grow." She fumed at their laughter, but refused to let it daunt her.

And then one day... a sprout appeared, a sprout made of copper just like the penny. The sprout grew and grew. It grew big, thick, and tall. The tree was in full bloom by the time Jill graduated from first grade, and became a big-big copper tree.

The tree had leaves of money -- one-dollar bills, five-dollar bills, ten-dollar bills, and on up even to the occasional 100,000-dollar bill. The tree was bountiful with its fruit, of pennies, nickles, quarters (both eagle-backed and statist), half-dollars, Eisenhower dollars, Susan B. Anthony dollars, and even gold dollar coins. The tree produced other coins that Jill had never seen before.

The family lived happily ever after, because nobody could distinguish between these and authentic Federal Reserve notes and minted coins.

I was surprised when I was called in for an interview, and even more surprised upon being informed that I got the job. It seemed to me that applying for a teaching position at an exclusive, elite secondary school for young ladies would be seen as the arrogance and perversity of a young man with a natural attraction to teenaged young ladies. I never admitted to that motivation. My application had been little more than a self-dare.

I thought it would be paradise, amid swarms of young ladies with socks two to three inches below the knees, and dresses ending six to nine inches above the knees. It sounded so very different from my dominantly male undergraduate and post-graduate education environment.

Wonderful as it sounded, it quickly became ho-hum -- even with the inevitable pretty young-girl crushes. Not to mention, once I began teaching, I was caught up in the science. Science and math trump everything, at least with me. Most of them realized that they could exercise or fuel their crushes by studying and learning the material.

This particular day began normally and routinely. During lunch in the faculty lounge, I overheard a couple other male teachers discussing a student and her outfit.

Teacher 1: "... standing just inside my doorway, watching the young ladies going to their first-period class. One student passed by, dressed very much at variance with the norm."

Teacher 2: "I think that she was in my Beginning Ancient Greek class third period. I'm unsure, and I refuse to mention names. But it is surprising how Miss Alcott appears to give her pass on such an underly-short dress."

Anita Alcott was the school headmistress, and also taught a couple periods of sixth- and seventh-grade math.

Teacher 1: "She was definitely attractive and, dare I say it? Hot."

Teacher 2: "She always was attractive and beautiful, but today she was something extra."

I tuned out. At the very least, I kept my perverse fantasies about my students to myself. That wasn't so difficult, really.

It was the last class period of the day when she entered the classroom. She turned out to be one of my first-year physics students. I was standing as usual just inside the doorway, observing my students entering class. When she entered--

Me: "You don't have to lift up your skirt or anything, but have you made sure you satisfy the dress code?"

The student smiled. "Yes indeed. My socks end about minus one and a half inches below my knees, while my dress ends about minus four inches above my knees."

I was satisfied; the dress code required that the socks of a student her height end at most four inches below the knees, and that her dress end about about three times above the knees as her socks reached below the knees. She was beautiful, yes even hot, in her mid-length dress ending below the knees, and socks extending up under her dress.

Ding-dong!

"Yes!" Tabbie jumped off her bed, and dashed down to the front door. It just *had* to be it, the latest book in the series!

"Good afternoon, Miss Tabbie," said the deliveryman, handing her the small package. "Here is your new book."

Tabbie's heart pounded as she looked up at the handsome delivery man. "Thank you ever so much, Mr. Tanda!" she wheezed, as she signed the electronic device. Clasping the book to her heart, she looked back up at the heart-stopping Mr. Tanda. Practically every time a new book in the series arrived, the Mr. Tanda was the delivery man. "Have a spiffy day, Mr. Tanda!"

"You as well, Miss Tabbie." Mr. Tanda tipped his hat as he took his leave. Tabbie couldn't help giggling.

She ripped the box open, revealing the book inside. She couldn't wait to begin reading, but she knew the importance of self-denial and delayed gratification. Tossing the box aside, she ran back to her room. She called her BFF Kim.

"Heya, Tabbie!" came Kim's hyper patter, answering the phone. "Have you heard, the latest book is out!" Kim asked in her hyper patter, giggling all the while. Tabbie could practically hear the Kim's thumping heart over the phone.

"Yeah! Mine just arrived!" said Tabbie.

"Gosh, I'm so-so jealous!"

"Come over, we'll read it together! Spend the night!" said Tabbie.

They chatted some more, even as Tabbie heard Kim opening the garage. "Sorry, can't bike and talk at the same time. See-ya!"

"See-ya!" echoed Tabbie, as the call ended.

Tabbie dashed back downstairs to await Kim's arrival with bated breath. She couldn't wait to see her BFF, and she couldn't wait to start on the latest book. She didn't wait long; Kim arrived on her bike in good time.

"Hey there!" Tabbie and Kim embraced. "You have the book?" asked Kim.

"It's around here... somewhere," answered Tabbie, as she looked around. It wasn't in the living room. She ran to her room, Kim on her tail. It wasn't there, either. She ran to the kitchen. It was nowhere to be found.

"Where did you leave it last?" asked Kim.

"I just don't remember!" whined Tabbie, panicking, practically heart-broken.

"You'll find it some time," Kim consoled her. "Hey, the guys are playing baseball at the park. Let's go join them."

The book temporarily forgotten, Kim and Tabbie spent the rest of the afternoon at the park a couple blocks away, playing baseball.

But then it was time to return home for supper.

Tabbie opened the front door, and the two girls were promptly hit by Dad's shouting. The girls entered, and froze at the scene. Tabbie's two big brothers were standing abashed, as Dad raved and ranted, waving Tabbie's missing book about.

"... of all the mind-melting mush you could be reading, did it really have to be Thumping ❤❤, Broken ❤❤, ❤❤ United?!?"