The Artifacts of K'Panu

Jacobi's laugh was harsh and abrupt.   "Oh, I don't think so.   You see, the magic doesn't work that way.   I can't use it to help myself directly."   His voice grew smooth, and the chill in it ran down my spine.   "But the three of you are impediments to my career, and I can... remove you."   The Dean's face grew pale, after all she believed in magic.   "No, " she whispered, pleading.   "Please, don't do this..."  

---

The wind was chillier today, blowing the first of the autumn leaves across the campus.   I pulled my jacket tighter as I crossed the quad, wondering why I was even bothering to make the trip.   Simon Jacobi would be gone in a short time anyway, there was no way the academic review board would renew his contract now, let alone grant him tenure.   I smiled grimly at the thought.   His loss, my gain.   Still, he'd finish out the semester, and appearances must be maintained.   Gracious winner, and all that.   So I was making the trek across campus, from my little cubbyhole of an office in the Engineering Building, to his little cubbyhole in Social Sciences.   Archeology wasn't a large department, and had to scrounge for office space wherever it could be found.   At least he's in the same building as the rest of the department.   Not that it helped him any.

I took the elevator to the top floor, and the stairs to the floor above that.   Officially, that would be the attic, but chronic budgetary constraints meant that the place had been swept out years ago, and 'temporary' cubicles put in, for grad students, and a few undergrads   privileged enough to be teaching assistants.   I grinned as I passed my old desk; the current occupant was noisily asleep, head down on the papers he was marking, drool gently pooling on some poor student's brain sweat.   Psychology grad, judging by the white mouse glaring at me from the cage.       It had little wires embedded in its skull and I wondered briefly how hard it must be to drill those tiny holes.

The official heating and cooling system knew nothing about any attic;   the air circulation was rudimentary, and I recalled too well, the whole space waffled between sweltering heat in the summer, and sweltering heat in the winter.   Today, the outside air was cool, but the attic received the benefit of the entire heating plant zealously pumping warmth into the rest of the building.   I smiled at the ancient grad student joke: It's all those professors below us, hot air rises.   My own office wasn't a lot better, but at least the A/C worked.     I unzipped my jacket, tempted to remove it, but I was hoping I wouldn't be staying long.  

As a contract lecturer, Jacobi outranked the grads -- barely-- and so was entitled to one of the few offices up here, a windowless closet just large enough for a bookcase,   one desk and a chair on each side.   Much the same as my own office.   A desk fan sat atop the bookcase, trying to move the listless air, barely rippling the heaps of papers   stacked on every horizontal surface.   My stacks were neater.   I thought smugly.   Maybe.     I rapped my knuckles on the doorframe and cleared my throat at the figure hunched over the laptop on the desk.   "You, ahh,   demanded to see me?"

Jacobi was old -- well, old for someone in our position.   I was twenty-six, and I judged he had a good decade on me.   At his age, the writing was on the wall -- you're not going any further, if you haven't managed a permanent position by now, it wasn't going to happen.   He was tall, and gangly, the desk appearing too small for his knees.   His hair was long and ill-kept, hanging slackly on either side of his head as he typed manically on the keys. When he looked up, his face was tanned and weathered, as befits an archeologist who spent most of his time in the field.   His eyes were odd, they would glance in my direction, then dart away, like they refused to settle on me.   His colorless lips smiled, but the smile didn't reach the rest of his face.     "Wirtz!"   He pronounced it 'Veertz', pretentious bastard.   " How nice of you to come see me.   I apologize for the tone of my voicemail, I get... carried away.   Sit, sit."   His tongue darted around his mouth, like it scented prey,   as he stood to take the papers from the guest chair and dump them unceremoniously on top of another stack.

I shook my head, leaning against the doorframe.   "Thanks but I'm not staying.   I came to see what was so damned important.   Your message.. well, you were pretty rude, actually."   Jacobi tried to look apologetic as he rose and shook my hand, a good bit taller than my own six feet.   "I'm truly sorry," he said.   "I needed to have you here -- ahh, here come the other guests.   We'll need two more chairs.   Would you mind?"

I was about to tell him to go to hell, when I turned and caught sight of the new arrivals: Our thesis supervisor, Professor Ng -- we all called him by his first name, Tom -- a small, bald Texan of Vietnamese heritage,   who somehow managed to look like an inscrutably Asian rodeo cowboy;   and... the Dean of the Archeology department.   Isabella Sanchez.   Dean Sanchez to all but a very few of her innermost circle.   Unless you were a grad student, and caught her eye.   A male grad student.   Then, for a few hours, you were granted the privilege of addressing her by her first name.   In return for providing certain sexual favors.     She was short and heavy, she was a screamer, and she was my mother's age with my grandmother's moustache; but when the Dean is the chair of your doctoral thesis committee, you do what you have to do.   I passed,   Jacobi didn't,   I recalled, glancing between the Dean and Jacobi.   Interesting.   I stole two stackable chairs from nearby cubicles, offering Tom a shrug and a puzzled shake of the head as our eyes met.

"Dean Sanchez!   Please, come in!   Tom, so good to see you.   Steven has the chairs, come in and close the door, I promise this won't take long."   Jacobi oozed hospitality. The Dean settled herself regally in the office's original guest chair, it creaked ominously.   "Your message was very.. explicit," the Dean hissed. "If you can't explain yourself, you'd better start packing."

Tom and I squeezed ourselves into our own chairs, the office was small enough I could reach out and pull the door closed from my seat.   I was feeling distinctly claustrophobic.   "Simon, if this is about your thesis, this is not the best way..." Tom started, but Jacobi waved him off.   "It is, and it isn't.   Frankly, I told you whatever would get you to come here.   I expect you want to know why."   He set a small wooden case on his desk, removing the lid to show three obsidian disks,   chipped from volcanic glass, and inscribed with some kind of glyphs.   I raised my eyebrow at that, if they were archeological finds,   then these were created by a primitive culture -- and it is extremely difficult to etch volcanic glass with the detail and precision of those glyphs.     He set them reverently on his desk, nearer to him than to us, but one artifact in front of each of the three of us.   Two of the disks were crazed with a network of very fine cracks, but the one in front of me seemed pristine and new.     "It's about these."   He muttered something under his breath, and touched each disk in turn, naming the person in the chair opposite as he did so.   "Isabella,   Tom, Steven -- It's about revenge."

I snorted, "This is a crock.   I've done nothing to you, we barely know each other."   I made to stand up, but found that my body wasn't listening to me.   The others had panicked expressions, having discovered the same thing.   The Dean licked her lips nervously. "R-revenge?   This is about your dissertation?   But it was nonsense!   A complete waste of our time!"   Tom made shushing motions, but the Dean wasn't about to be silenced.   "Magic?     Oh, please."   Her voice was becoming painfully shrill in the tiny room.   "We'd be laughed right off campus if we'd passed you.   Our academic credentials would be a joke!"     Jacobi smiled coldy.   "And yet... none of you can move, can you?   Why do you suppose that is?"    

It was Tom who stated the obvious.   "You found some."  

The disks had begun to glow, an odd reddish double pulsing, as if within each disk was embedded a pair of fiery rhythms.   The disk in front of me demanded my attention, insisted, with the flickering light from its depths.   I felt as if I should recognize the rhythm, as it drew me in, became the center of my world.   The glyphs were sharp, and clean, and yet oddly out of focus, my attention refused to remain on any of them long enough for me to even describe one.   The pulsing glow came from impossibly deep within the glass, and I realized the pounding in my veins was in time to one of the rhythms.   "H-heartbeat,"   I mumbled.

I could not raise my eyes to see, but I could hear the grin in Jacobi's voice.   "Yes, yes, very good!   Heartbeats, yours... and mine.   I was right! The disks have become attuned to us!"   I half-expected to hear him cackle, but he managed to retain at least that much control.   "Let me tell you what I know about these artifacts."   I could hear him settle back in his chair, getting comfortable.   There was a pause as he chose the best way to begin, he was, after all, an academic, a lecturer with delusions of professorship.   Finally, he cleared his throat, and began.

"You know that my research was concerned with religious practices and beliefs in the Polynesian culture, before the arrival of the... Christian missionaries."   He spat out the words like an epithet.   There was enormous variation, but I came to be aware of a small, but significant pattern of references to an even older culture, and I began to devote my efforts to locating the center of that culture.   Of course I was attempting to solve a puzzle with most of the pieces missing, and I had a number of promising leads, that proved false -- but I came to see a thread within the tapestry, a broken thread, I grant you, but one that seemed to reappear time after time."   His dry voice grew animated.   "That thread was magic.   There were consistent references in places that should have never had cultural contact.   Always the same, sacrifices to the volcano god -- the name had about fifteen syllables, I just called him K'panu -- and his priests who could work magic.   Never any tribes who actually had magic -- but they all believed in it."   He snorted.   "Yes, yes, I know, utter nonsense.   But the same story kept showing up.   Even the same place names, with minor variations, all over the Pacific!   Needless to say, I was intrigued.   I began the search for the origin of these tales.   It's taken me almost ten years."

The rhythm in the disk that wasn't my own heartbeat seemed to slow slightly, as he relaxed into lecture mode.   "I learned so much about that other culture as I searched, even rudiments of their written language, by matching commonalities with dialects that should have had no common ancestors.   A vast trading empire, well beyond just Polynesia, reaching from Asia to Peru -- no-one has ever suspected they existed!   An entirely new civilization, contemporary with the Mayans,   revolving around K'Panu and his priests.   Imagine the stir that would cause in academic circles.   But I could not publish!   Without the source, without artifacts, there was no proof, only conjecture.   I'd be a laughingstock."   He chuckled darkly, "Three years ago, I found it, and I thought I was washed up."

I could hear him shifting in his chair rummaging for something, and there was the sound of a match being struck.   "Mind if I smoke?   No, of course you don't."   His chair creaked as he leaned back.     "I found it all right.     All my research pointed to a particular location.   The only problem was, there was nothing there."   He sighed.   "Geological records show there was a major volcanic eruption sometime around the middle of the tenth century.   The volcano erupted for an entire year.     The ash and rock from the explosions made every island for a thousand miles around uninhabitable.   That was my island, of course. "   He snorted.   "Something pissed off the volcano god, and he destroyed the civilization built up around him.   Anyway, I figured, end of story, I was done, kaput.   What could I do?"   He took a long drag, and exhaled a cloud of blue smoke.   My eyes watered, still glued to the fires deep within the disk.   Cold sweat ran down the back of my neck, but I couldn't even shiver.   "Remember the tsunamis two years ago?   A series of undersea tectonic movements.   The ocean floor suddenly rose hundreds of feet.   Thousands died.   That was the luckiest day of my life.   My island came back."

Another pause, another cloud of smoke.     The pulsing fires deep inside my disk were endlessly fascinating, I would have been content to sit and gaze into its depths until I finally wasted away and died.   The rhythms were everything.   Nothing else mattered.     Eventually, Jacobi continued.   "Oh, it didn't come back all the way -- that would have been too obvious.   Another island did, though, to provide a distraction, it seemed to me.   I'd rushed to that one first, of course, hoping to find some clue, but if there ever had been anything to find, the original eruption, then almost a thousand years underwater, and a cataclysmic rise back to the surface had pretty much scrubbed it away.   Eventually I left it to the geologists, and chartered a boat, and visited the place where my island should have been.   A day's travel, maybe twenty-five, thirty miles.   Ocean as flat as glass.   The chart said it was just another empty stretch of blue, average depth, maybe two or three thousand feet."   The awe in his voice was unmistakable.   "It was maybe thirty feet down, practically at the surface, stretching as far as I could see.   The ruins of a lost civilization."

Another pause.   A fly buzzed somewhere in a corner of the room.   Outside the room, I could hear nothing, it was as if only this small, crowded space existed at this moment.   A long exhalation, another cloud of smoke, and the sound of a cigarette butt being stubbed out in an ashtray. "How could this be a coincidence?   I was convinced, at long last, my prize was being handed to me.   I had a dream that night.   A vision of a temple, a particular archway,   an entrance to a shadowed room."   He laughed, sharply.   "I do not normally get visions.   This dream was so vivid, so perfectly detailed... It took me two days to find it. By that time I was on the last of my scuba tanks,   I had maybe ten minutes to explore.   The disks were on an elaborate altar dedicated to K'Panu,   carved from a single block of volcanic glass -- do you have any idea how difficult that would be?   The effort that would take?   The runes on the disks caught my eye.   With my earlier studies, I thought I might eventually be able to decipher them."   A self-deprecating laugh.   "I admit, the idea of finding the Rosetta stone for this culture, the academic honor, the prestige, had a powerful appeal.   Anyway, they were the only artifacts I could find that I could possibly fit into my sample bag, so I grabbed them and returned to the boat."   He chuckled sourly.   "It was a close thing.   I ran out of air about ten feet before I got to the surface.   As soon as I got back to the boat, I stowed the disks and headed for the nearest place I could recharge the tanks, a tourist village about a day and a half away."   The palm of his hand slapped down on the arm of his chair, his voice choking with frustration.   "I'd just pulled up to the dock, when the ground started to shake and the tsunami warning sirens went off.   The ocean floor had dropped, again.   My island was gone."

Jacobi was shifting restlessly now, unable to remain still.   "In the scramble to reach high ground, I'd left everything on the boat.   Except the disks, of course, their value was beyond measure.   Naturally -- how could be just bad luck? -- the boat was destroyed.   My notes, camera, laptop -- any record of my discovery -- all wiped out.   K'Panu giveth, and K'Panu taketh away.   I was devastated.   It was madness for a while, trying to get out of there, in the wake of a such an enormous natural disaster -- is 'natural' even the right word?   I don't think so -- but eventually, I managed to get home."

More rustling noises, another cigarette being lit.   It could have been a minute, or an hour, it wouldn't have mattered to me, captured by my obsidian prison.     Finally, he went on.   "What could I do?   I devoted myself to writing up what I could, and presenting my research as my doctoral thesis.   With a PhD in hand, my hope was to gain a position here, to be recognized for my work, gain some research grants, to be allowed to continue my research."   The anger was rising in his voice.   "That hope was shattered, when you rejected. my. thesis."   His finger jabbed at the desk to punctuate his words,   the sound unnaturally loud.   There was a long interval while Jacobi struggled to control his temper.   I could hear the sound of the little fan pushing uselessly at the thick air from atop the bookcase, impossibly distant.   The cigarette smoke made my nose want to twitch, but not even that option was available.   When Jacobi finally continued, his voice was calmer.   "Tom, I'd hoped for better from you, but you were honest, at least.   You simply weren't able to understand the patterns I could see so clearly.   But Isabella, you reneged on our unspoken arrangement!   We had a deal, the same one you make all the grads -- for a few hours, I would pretend to find you attractive and sexually desirable, and you would support my thesis.   But you betrayed me -- you used me.   Only old von Sturm gave me his support, although admittedly I doubt he was awake for half of my presentation..."

His voice took on a grim humor.   "Fortunately my study of the inscriptions on the disks was more successful.   The disks were magical.   More powerful magic than I'd dared to dream, and yet not as useful as I'd hoped -- but why should I explain, when it's so unnecessary?   In a few moments, it won't matter to you anyway."   His weight shifted in the chair, and I out of the corner of my eye I became aware he had covered the disk closest to the Dean with his hand.     He spoke with a cold authority now.     "Tom, Steven, I want you to look at Isabella.   Isabella, look at me."   Instantly, my eyes snapped to the Dean.   Her eyes were riveted on Jacobi's face, as if it held the only item of any interest in the entire universe.   I expected my expression was much the same.   The back of Tom's head was in my peripheral vision, but I couldn't pay any attention to it.   Uh-oh.   This isn't gonna be good.   A droplet of sweat traced its way along her jawline, from her temple, down to her throat.

"Isabella, I want you to believe that I found actual magical artifacts on a tiny atoll in the South Pacific, and I want you to recognize me for the genius it took to track them down."   The Dean's face took on a look of awe as the ideas worked their way into her brain.   "Brilliant..." she breathed.   "Magic...is real!   This shatters what we thought we knew of the ancient world, of science!   You must publish!   You'll be famous!"   She was becoming more animated.   "The Trustees will have to grant us more funding!   A larger department!   A department of Magic...   You would be the star, of course!   They'd be mad not to see that."   A sly look came over her, and she looked at him through half-lidded eyes.   I recognize that look. Thirty years ago, it would have made her look sexy.   "You simply must come over for a glass of wine, soon.   We can discuss your tenure, Professor Jacobi..." she purred.

Jacobi's laugh was harsh and abrupt.   "Oh, I don't think so.   You see, the magic doesn't work that way.   I can't use it to help myself directly."   His voice grew smooth, and the chill in it ran down my spine.   "But the three of you are impediments to my career, and I can... remove you."   The Dean's face grew pale, after all she believed in magic.   "No, " she whispered, pleading.   "Please, don't do this..."  

"Isabella,"   Jacobi pronounced, his tone becoming more formal.   "You are an academic and a bureaucrat.   You pride yourself on your education and social status.   You take great pleasure in using your power over others for your sexual gratification.   You need something else to fill your time."  

He paused, considering, or perhaps savoring the moment.   The Dean was looking increasingly panicked.   "From this moment forth, your name shall be Bridget Mary O'Shaunessy.   You are nineteen years old, Irish by descent.   Your mother died when you were young, and your father raised you in a strict Catholic, blue-collar home.   You graduated from an all-girl Catholic high-school, barely.   You can read and write, just enough to get by.   You take care of your father, and to supplement his retirement pension, you work full-time as a barmaid at the Irish pub, just off-campus.   You are pretty, and flirty, but not beautiful, and you are engaged to be married at the end of the month to a... let's see... a mechanic.   He loves you and will be a good provider but will sometimes hit you when he's drunk.   You will keep your wedding vows to love, honor and obey him.   You will be a virgin until your wedding night."   He paused to take a breath.   "You will willingly grant your husband any sexual favor he may desire, but he will never give you an orgasm.   You will become pregnant on your wedding night, and after the baby is born, you will have an overwhelming need to become pregnant again as soon as it is healthy and safe for your body to do so.   Until you have had... oh, let's see... eight children.   You will love being pregnant, and being a mother, and having your tits sucked.   Let's see, what else..."   he chuckled unpleasantly and snapped his fingers.   "Oh!   of course.   You will remember nothing of ever being Isabella, and of what happened in this room, unless you are specifically told to remember, by one of the other people in this room.   If that should happen, Isabella's memories and personality will come back, and Bridget's will seem distant, like they were from the life of another person.   Isabella will fade and Bridget will return as soon as you leave that person's presence."   The Dean's face was a mask of terror.

I couldn't see what he did, but suddenly the air around the Dean seemed to shimmer.   Her dark hair fell from its tight bun, and seemed to lighten, turning a reddish-orange, and changing in texture to fall in waves to the small of her back.   Her body thinned and stretched, her features smoothing, growing younger. The Dean's pantsuit shifted into a flowing green above-the-knee skirt, with a bartender's apron tied around her waist, and a cream peasant blouse with a Celtic motif, covering breasts which had become fuller, but youthfully firm.   The bifocal glasses on the chain around her neck flickered, and became a small golden crucifix, nestling in her prominent cleavage.   Her dusky skin lightened in tone, becoming pale, and a smattering of freckles dusted her pert nose.   False eyelashes transmuted into real ones, fluttering over pale green eyes.   Her makeup became less subtle, more inexperienced, heavy on the mascara and eyeliner,   and her lips plumped and acquired laugh lines at the corners, with a shade of lipstick that went well with her new coloration.   The Dean's functional flats became a pair of moderately-heeled wedge sandals, and simple engagement ring appeared on her left hand.     The new Bridget was indeed pretty, but she was big-hipped and broad-shouldered, and slightly thick of proportion, and she would never be considered beautiful.   My guts clenched.   Jesus, he can really do it.   Suddenly, there was a loud CRACK and I would have jumped out of my skin, if I could have.     Jacobi sighed and muttered something like, "Well, that answers that question."   The former Dean sat there, immobile, her eyes still glued to Jacobi's face, although judging from the rise and fall of her impressive chest, she was nearly hyperventilating.   "Bridget, off you go to work, hon."   he commanded her gently, and she rose from her chair and squeezed past the two of us, the panic replaced by confusion on her face, as she tried to work out what she was doing in a tiny office with three strange men.   As commanded, my eyes followed her until she closed the door behind her, then the compulsion was released, and my attention was free to wander.  

My eyes fell on the disks, only two remained. Where the Dean's disk had been, only a small dusting of coarse black sand remained.   Jacobi noticed my attention.   "I don't know how long they last," he admitted.   "Two of the artifacts appeared to be older, perhaps they were being used as references to construct the third.   I suspected they had been used before."   He brushed the sand off his desk.   "At any rate, my hold on her is lost, there's no way to modify or reverse the magic, once the disk is destroyed."   "Why?   Why are you doing this?"   Tom demanded, his voice hoarse.   Jacobi's eyes moved to Tom.   "Why?   Tell me, who is Dean at this moment?"   Tom looked puzzled for a moment, then aghast.   "Oh, shit.   I...I am."  

I frowned.   That's not right.   Isabella has been Dean since... but somehow, my memories didn't match what I knew.   Tom had been Dean, ever since Isabella was dismissed after that complaint by those female grad students.   Jacobi smiled and nodded at the expression on my face.   "Ahhh, comprehension dawns.   The magic makes adjustments.   The world changes to fit the spell."   He shrugged apologetically to Tom.   "Of course, I couldn't be positive, but you were the most likely successor.   It seemed a good bet.   With YOU out of the way, my guess is it will fall to von Sturm." He grinned.   "He likes   me."   Von Sturm was the oldest professor in the department, probably the University.   All he wanted to do was nap and index his precious pottery shards.     "Plus, two tenured positions gone, increases the odds that I'll be offered one."   His eyes turn back to me.   "Especially if my main competitor is no longer in the running."   Fear took a better grip on my insides.   Well, that explains it, then.

Jacobi rolled his shoulders and straightened in his chair.   "So, to business then.   Tom, I don't mean you any harm.   I'll keep this pretty simple, and I'll try to make it turn out as well as I can for you."   He cleared his throat, placed his hand over Tom's disk, and fixed Tom in his gaze.   It seemed to me he was concentrating, picturing the changes he wanted to make.   "Tom, you are a freshman co-ed, still from Texas.   Your name is Tiffany... Tiffany Estelle Burke,   Tiffi to your friends.   You have a lot of friends, you are a very outgoing, cheerful person.   You were a high school cheerleader and prom queen.   You love cheerleading and are very good at it, and you will be attending the tryouts here at the university.   You have studied dance and gymnastics since you were a little girl, and now you teach on Saturdays and continue to take adult dance classes one evening a week.   You are a naturally graceful, athletic, sexy girl, never a slut, but a beautiful young woman confident in her own attractiveness and sexuality.   A bit of a tomboy, but always feminine, never 'one of the guys'. You don't have a boyfriend at the moment, but you're not a virgin, and eventually you will find a man you love and who loves you, settle down and become a happy housewife and soccer mom.   You are majoring in Physical Education.   Oh -- and Friday nights you work as a waitress at the Irish pub, where Bridget works."   He seemed pleased by his own cleverness.   He rubbed his chin, considering.   "You will not remember anything of Tom's life unless you are told to remember by one of the people in this room.   When that happens, Tom's memories will push Tiffi's into the background, and Tiffi's memories will seem like they are from someone else's life.   Tom will fade away as soon as you are out of the presence of the person who commanded you to remember.   And just in case -- you will be unable to touch either of these disks.   The sight of them will make you increasingly uncomfortable and want to leave the room.   Once they are out of your sight, you will not remember seeing them."   My eyes narrowed.   What is he up to?   There must be a reason for that...

His hand remained on Tom's disk, and Jacobi turned his attention on me, and smiled at my puzzled expression.   "There are quirks to the magic, of a sort, or perhaps the volcano god had a sense of fair play.   Once it is bound to the two of us -- as the heartbeats show -- I can do pretty much whatever I want to you, or -- "   he grinned, "-- I can undo it.   But... if I lose possession of the disk, it becomes unbound.     Neither of us can ever be bound again, and the changes become fixed.   The new owner can bind it to someone else, and start again. "But -- and this is the part that worries me, just a little -- if you ever gain possession, it remains bound to the two of us.   You can't undo the changes to yourself -- but you could change me."

I grabbed that thought fiercely and held on for dear life.   He cleared his throat and placed his free hand on my disk, the other remaining over Tom's.   A chill seemed to form around me, a swirling of icy possibilities, waiting to condense around his words.   "Steven Wirtz" -- he pronounced it properly, 'Wurts' instead of 'Veertz'. Asshole, I knew you did it just to piss me off!   He continued, "Steven Wirtz, you are an up-and-coming archeologist, with every indication of a successful academic career.   As such we are at odds.   I bear you no personal ill-will, but the circumstances are ...inconvenient.   If I am to be sure of success, you are a potential rival that must be removed." He grinned wickedly, "Besides, this disk was the newest.   I expect it will have a number of uses left, and I'm curious to see what it can do."   The terror rose within me.   I could tell I was hyperventilating at least as much as Bridget --   no! the Dean -- had been, but I wasn't allowed to pass out, I knew.

My eyes were locked on his, as he pronounced his spell.   "You are Stephanie Louise Burke,   Tiffi's identical twin sister.   Everybody calls you Steffi.   Like her, you were a cheerleader in high school, and have studied dance and gymnastics, and are every bit as accomplished as your sister.   You are also a Phys-Ed major, but have a different class schedule than your sister.   You teach with her on Saturdays, and take an evening dance class with her.   She is the dominant big sister, you are the submissive little sister.   She likes to look after her little sister, you like to have a big sister to help you.   What she does, you like to do too. You are uncomfortable being separated from each other for too long, although this is not in any way crippling.   You are also a cheerful person, but where she is outgoing, you are shy.     In public situations, you can be confident, but in private you are nervous and timid around strangers, and most of your friends are from your sister's circle of friends.   You are every bit as naturally sexy, graceful, and athletic, but where she is a tomboy, you are girly.   You are always aware of the latest fashions, and are expert in makeup and nails and hairstyles.   You are always wearing the appropriate makeup for the occasion, and are perfectly comfortable in high heels wherever possible.   While Tiffi was the prom queen, you were the local small town beauty pageant queen.   You also work on Fridays at the pub   -- " he grinned as he improvised, "-- in fact, the two of you have become Bridget's best friends, and Steffi will be her maid of honor, while Tiffi is a bridesmaid.   Like your sister, you are not a virgin..."   His voice drifts off, considering an idea, and from his expression, not a good one for me.

"...in fact, Steffi will discover she is a sexual submissive.   Giving sexual pleasure gives her sexual pleasure.   Being controlled, bound, dominated, obeying, in a sexual situation is intensely arousing.   Being sexually humiliated is intensely arousing.     You like it rough, but not mean.   Your body orgasms more easily and more intensely than most women's.     You will always remember being Steven Wirtz, but Steffi is always in control of your actions and emotions, except in the company of   the people in this room, and Bridget.   In short,"   he finished with an wicked smile, "you are a man trapped inside a wet dream."   I had no thoughts, just a keening wail inside my head.   Nonononononononooooo...   My fear was physical thing, clawing at my chest to get out.  

"You will be unable to touch either of these disks, and the sight of them will make you increasingly uncomfortable, and want to leave the room.   Once they are out of sight, you will forget you have seen them."     Then he removed his hands from the disks, and the cold magic that had been swirling around me suddenly took a double grip, and twisted.

She splashed some water on her face and reached for her towel, then froze at the horrified expression on my face. "What? Steffi, what?"

Jesus Christ, he really fucking did it. That SON OF A BITCH! That FUCKING SON OF A BITCH! "Tiffany, remember." I almost didn't catch her in time, as the memories came crashing back.

---

I woke easily to the sound of the alarm clock. We'd always been early risers, Tiff and me. When we were kids, it was helping with the chores, now it was early morning exercises. I called across the room as I rolled out of bed, "Up 'n at 'em, sis." I threw on a robe over my nightie, squealing at the cold floor as my toes hurriedly snuggled into bunny slippers. Grabbing my towel I tossed a second towel onto the Tiffi-shaped lump under her covers, and headed off to the communal bathroom to have a pee and splash some water on my face. Tiff shuffled in groggily a few minutes behind me, scratching her head through her tousled hair, and I grinned at her in the mirror. "Lazy sleepyhead!"

Tiffi made a face at me and headed into a stall. "Steffi honey, you are entirely too chipper in th' mornin'." she groused. I blew her a raspberry and we both giggled. Every morning, same ritual, sometimes she was the sleepyhead, sometimes it was me. She came out and I watched her in the mirror as she comfortably hip-bumped me to make room and began her own morning routine at my sink. There were other sinks, but that's the way we were. We just shared without thinking, it was mine, so it was hers too. She splashed some water on her face and reached for her towel, then froze at the horrified expression on my face. "What? Steffi, what?"

Jesus Christ, he really fucking did it. That SON OF A BITCH! That FUCKING SON OF A BITCH! "Tiffany, remember." I almost didn't catch her in time, as the memories came crashing back.

"What are we gonna do? What the hell are we gonna do?" It didn't really matter which of us had asked the question this time, as we jog-walked along the park trail. We'd both been asking it ever since the bathroom. We needed a place to talk. The bathroom had been too public -- we weren't the only early risers in the dorm -- and our room seemed claustrophobic, we felt antsy, we had to keep moving, to be doing something. So we threw on some running clothes -- well, Tiffi did, I just had to find clothes that matched, and put on some chapstick, it was the minimum 'appropriate makeup for the occasion' -- and off we went, into the semidarkness of the autumn morning, our breath crystallizing in the chill.

As I broke back into a run, I wondered if it was our new bodies. They were undeniably fit -- incredibly so. I'd never been this fit as a man. Active, yes, I'd been a field archeologist, you don't do that from a desk. I'd hiked a great deal, kept in reasonable shape, but these bodies were tuned. Between gymnastics, dancing, and cheerleading, there wasn't a muscle group neglected, and over top of the muscles were some very pleasing curves. Perhaps these bodies just had to run. I glanced at Tiffi, beside me, picking up her pace to match mine. I grinned at her and stretched my legs, increasing speed, defying her to keep up. The feel of my heart racing, lungs pumping, muscles flowing, was exhilarating. We flew into the home stretch, grinning like fools. Tiffi had the inside path around the last curve, winning by a step. We collapsed onto the frosted autumn grass by the dorm entrance, laughing like, well, schoolgirls, while we tried to catch our breath.

Our wind returned remarkably quickly, and we couldn't stay on the cold ground. Soon we were back on our feet, doing impossibly limber stretches as we warmed down from our run. Tiffi -- well, Tom, started. "Well, what do we know? Did Jacobi even get what he wanted?" I shook my head. "Steffi has no idea there even is an Archeology Department. I guess it couldn't hurt to find out -- but I'm not going anywhere near there. We can check the campus web site, maybe. I think something changed, though -- do you remember leaving his office?" Tom shook his head, "I remember he took his hands off the disks, and it was all a blur. Then the alarm went off this morning."

I nodded, "That's about how I remember it, too. When he changed Bridget -- the Dean, " I corrected myself, "she got up and left the office. I'm thinking, after he changed us, there was no office. Reality changed, and that wasn't his office anymore. So the magic just slipped us straight into our new lives."

I was automatically following Tiffi's lead, matching her stretches and contortions as I considered our situation. Damn, that magic had worked a number on us. As twins, my body was an identical copy of hers -- somehow, I knew the magic was going to be quite literal about that. Twins tend not to stay truly identical. Most identical twins come to physically differ a little over time, thanks to life's little traumas -- a fall out of a tree here, a bicycle accident there -- and no two people ever follow the exact same path through life, even if they wanted to. So by the time they leave home and go off to college, they're fairly well differentiated, even if outsiders don't spot it at first. Somehow I was sure, Tiffi and I were identical, down to the last freckle. No scars or blemishes on our perfect skin, after all, we'd literally just been born yesterday. And aside from the conditions of the spell -- which I didn't want to think about right now, or ever -- I was pretty sure our lives were almost carbon copies. Same teachers, same friends, same events. Sure, Tiffi had been prom queen -- but I'd been nominated, too. And I'd won a beauty pageant -- not a big one, mind you, it was just the county fair -- but Tiffi had been second runner-up. Not the same boyfriends, but I'd bet high school jocks are all the same, anyway, at least in Texas.

So, looking at Tiffi was even more like looking at myself than for most twins. Jacobi's spell had made us cheerleaders, but the magic had decided we were flyers. Flyers are the ones at the top of the pyramids, and get tossed into the air to do flips and other stunts. They have to be small and light: Tiff and I were barely five feet two inches tall, and weighed just a smidge under 100 pounds. (I knew the exact mark on the scale, between 99-and-a-half and 100.) From my perspective as a former six-foot-tall guy, we were tiny.

The magic may have shortchanged us for size, but it hadn't stinted us anywhere else: chestnut hair falling in luxurious waves down our backs (tied up in high ponies for the run), big, deep brown doe-eyes, and (from my male perspective) delightfully kissable lips framing perfect white smiles. A fair complexion with the healthy tan of an outdoorsy girl. Long, smoothly muscled dancer's legs, and curves to make a bikini model jealous. Even in a sports bra, the jiggle was distracting. Oh, I'm a wet dream all right. If only he'd left it at that.

Tiffi had finished her stretching and was watching me, looking worried. Tom spoke with her voice. "So, do we run and hide? I don't think I can. The minute you're out of sight, Tiffi won't remember a thing." I sighed and nodded. "Yeah. And as soon as you're out of sight, I have to be Steffi. She won't leave Tiffi. Plus the spell's got us locked in pretty tight, school, dance, teaching, and working, I doubt we could quit any of those. Not to mention tryouts -- oh lord, those are today! -- if we make the squad, I don't know how we'll manage. Practices, training, games... we're not going to have a minute of spare time." A Steffi-memory popped to the surface, and my eyes grew wide. "Ohmigod. Bridget's wedding! Dress fittings, the rehearsal, I have to throw her bridal shower!" Steffi-panic merged with Steven-panic in my voice.

Tiffi had wrapped me in her arms to comfort me before either of us knew what had happened. I glanced at her in surprise. "Tom?" She grinned sheepishly. "Yeah, still me. I just... reacted. It seems neither of us can stand to see baby sister upset." I took a deep breath, and let it out, slowly. I felt safe and protected in my big sister's embrace. I kissed Tiffi on the cheek and laid my head on her shoulder, feeling the hysteria subside a little. Damn, this feels good. "Thanks, sis. I needed this. I guess I'm mostly Steffi, now, even when the old me is in control. I feel like... she's letting me drive right now, but she's right here in the passenger seat, with one hand on the wheel."

Tiffi kissed me affectionately on the head and gave me a quick squeeze before releasing me. "I feel a little bit like that, too. But for me it's like..." She stops, searching for the words. "I'm not Tom, changed into a girl. I'm Tiffany Burke. I'm a college girl from Texas. I've always been your big sister. But right now I'm a girl with the memories of an old man." She placed her hands on her breasts, cupping them. "Having these things would freak Tom out, but they feel perfectly normal to me, they're part of who I am. I was fifty-seven years old, a professor for chrissakes. I should be a basket case, but for some reason I'm not. Tiffi's still driving, but I can tell her where I want to go. If I don't tell her, she decides. She's like she's someone I know, someone close. I don't feel what she feels about something, but I know how she would feel. Tiffi would do this, Tiffi wouldn't like that. Does that make sense?"

I nodded. "What about... when we're not together?" She looked away, her voice troubled. "I don't know what will happen," she said, simply. "Maybe I just go to sleep, until the next time." The next question worried me, but I had to know. "Would it be so bad... if...?" She choked out a laugh, "If I just went on with my new life? Wound up with a husband, two and a half kids, a dog and a white picket fence?" She was silent for a moment. "Tiffi would like that a lot, and I guess I wouldn't matter. But it won't happen. Remember the disks. That was the last time we'll ever remember seeing them. The spell will make sure of it. But we saw them both."

I replayed the scene in my head, and blanched. "Your disk, I remember -- oh, god, it wasn't destroyed, like Bridget's." She nodded bleakly. "We're in the same boat. I can't believe Jacobi will just leave us alone. Either we get control of the disks -- or he'll use them again."

In the distance, the clock tower in the quad began to chime. Tiffi shuffled nervously. "We... we better get moving, we've got classes in a hour." She smiled sourly, "that's not much time for us girls, now." I hesitated, knowing that once inside the dorm, in the morning chaos of young co-eds preparing for the day, we'd be separated, and Tom would be gone. Tom must have realized the same thing, because Tiffi took a deep breath, turned, and was up the steps and inside before I could speak. As soon as she was out of sight, I was Steffi again, and I hurried up the steps, pulling the scrunchie out of my ponytail, and letting my hair fall free.

Tiffi was right, an hour was hardly any time at all. With Steffi in control, I found I was anxious about the time, too, so I tried to stay out of the way and let her do her girly thing. We dashed back to our rooms and stripped off our sweaty running outfits -- Tiffi's wound up on the floor, I used the hamper -- threw on our robes and grabbed our bath stuff, and headed for the showers. Fortunately, we were still early enough to beat the rush. Washing long hair was a tedious process, but Steffi had done it a million times before, and I lathered, rinsed, and conditioned without a second thought. Long wet hair was heavy, especially when you weigh next to nothing. Our towels seemed huge wrapped around our small frames, as we scurried back to our room, Tiffi happily greeting and chatting with the other girls in the hall as we went, and I was content to be in tow.

Dressed in our underwear -- I found I preferred feminine lacy things, Tiffi was happy with plain cotton for everyday wear -- we unwrapped our hair and commenced to brush, and blow dry, and brush some more. That lengthy chore over, Tiffi slipped on a pair of tight bootcut jeans, a cutoff tee shirt, and a hooded jacket, put her hair back into a ponytail, and pulled on pair of western boots with a medium heel. She grinned at me as she slipped in her favorite pair of earrings -- a dangly native American-style turquoise pair -- and headed out the door. "I'm off to breakfast, I'll bring you somethin', sis."

I sighed and shot a dirty look at her back as I rubbed moisturizer into my skin -- as if this brand new body needed any -- and debated what to wear. Why couldn't I have been the tomboy? The weather looked sunny, the reports were calling for a warm Indian Summer day. I found that I had settled on a denim skirt and a white blouse, with a soft pink angora sweater I could tie over my shoulders. I fussed with my hair in front of the mirror for a minute, finally just pinning the thick curls back with a floral banana clip as a concession to the time. Makeup was a little blush, some eyeliner and mascara, soft grey-blue eyeshadow, and a touch of lip gloss. A quick rummage through the twin's communal jewelry collection produced a heart pendant on a gold chain to nestle at the top of my cleavage, some medium-sized hooped earrings, and a gold-colored bangle bracelet to complete the look. I smiled at our reflection, and Steffi and I shared a mental high-five. I may have to be girlie, but damn, I can work it.

Tiffi had returned with an apple, a slice of toast with a little jam, and a small juice container with a straw. I was wondering where the rest of it was, but I found I was satisfied with just the toast and juice, putting the apple in my purse for later. Some high-heeled wedgies, a spritz of perfume and a quick check of my lip gloss, and Tiffi and I were off to face the day, purse and book bag slung over my shoulder. Outside, Tiffi gave me a quick hug, and a last reminder. "Don't forget, toots, tryouts at 4:30." And with that she was off, hurrying across campus to her class.

My classes led me in the other direction. I discovered that I knew where I had been sitting in each class, and recognized a few of the students in the nearby seats, giving them a friendly smile as I settled in. Nobody seemed to know each other terribly well, but it was just the second week of classes, so there'd only been a couple of lectures so far.

My classes were pretty much rote, academically; yesterday, I'd been a doctoral student in Archeology, after all. Being an attractive young woman was the far more enjoyable lesson. I knew I was on display, wherever I went, but Steffi had grown up with that, and I found I was pretty comfortable with the idea. I enjoyed being in this body, its strength and suppleness and grace. I loved the weight of my hair, feeling it brush against my neck. The click of my heels and sway of my hips and the jiggle of my breasts as I walked.

I was disturbed to discover I was checking out the guys, and enjoying it, but according to Steffi's memories that just seemed to be normal female behavior, not part of the spell. I hoped I was a little more subtle than the guys who were checking me out, but judging from the spit-takes, the urgent elbows into a buddy's ribs, and the unabashed gaping, that wouldn't have been hard. Being approached by an attractive guy right now was the last thing I needed. It frightened me that Steffi was looking forward to it -- I might be too timid to come on to a cute guy, but if he came on to me, Steffi would definitely be interested. The Steven part of me wouldn't even get a say unless Tiffi were around. The last part of the spell still rang in my mind, and it terrified me.

Lunchtime found me in the Campus Center cafeteria, with a salad, a carton of milk, and the apple from my purse. Sitting alone would invite a come-on from every male in the area, but the spell had made me shy and apprehensive about approaching strangers. Finally, I took a deep breath, and nervously approached a table where a girl I recognized from one of my classes sitting with a couple of her friends. "Hi there. Mind if I join y'all?"

The girl looked up and flashed a friendly smile. "No, not at all. Stephanie, right? I'm Deb." I set down my tray gratefully and grinned as I slid into the seat. "That's me. My friends call me Steffi. Pleased to meet you." Deb introduced her friends as Carol and Anna, and before long we were chatting like old friends. Anna made a show of inspecting the scant contents of my tray. "You sure you can eat all that?" I pretended to pout. "I know, right? I only wanted the one piece of lettuce, but they made me buy the whole plate!" I grinned, then relented. "I'm going to the cheerleader tryouts this afternoon, it's best to keep it light when y'need to be doing backflips and aerials and such." Anna nodded and was about to concede the point, when I heard a familiar voice. "Steffi!"

I looked up and spied Tiffi rapidly navigating the maze of tables. "Tiffi!" I waved, and stood up to give her a hug as she arrived with her own tray, laden as lightly as my own. I turned to the table, "Tiff, this is Deb, Anna, and Carol. Ladies, this is my big sister Tiffany." I was practically bubbling, it was unsettling how much better I felt having Tiffi close by, and I could tell she was happier, too. We shared a giggle and enjoyed the startled expressions on the other girls faces. We twins get that a lot. Carol was the first to recover. "Ummm, It looks to me like you're the big sister." she observed. I glanced at Tiffi, momentarily confused, then laughed. "Oh! Heels. Every inch helps." I grinned abashedly, popping one foot up behind me in a girly pose to show the wedgie sandal. "Tiffi's the older one, I'm just the baby." Tiff rolled her eyes, this was an old routine for us. "Seventeen whole minutes. I'm so much more grown up." We seated ourselves and the rest of the lunch was happy girl talk.

Eventually it was time to head to our next class. It turned out Anna and I had English Lit together, and we'd just never met. It wasn't too surprising, considering there were over a hundred students in the class. We stood, and I gave Tiffi a little wave goodbye. "Let's try to be back in the dorm by three, and we can warm up and go over the routines before the tryouts." she suggested. I nodded, and -- after a quick compulsive visit to the little girl's room to touch up my face -- we all picked up our purses and book bags. With a last wave to Tiff, and best wishes from the other girls for the tryouts, Anna and I set off to the English lecture hall, grousing good-naturedly about reading lists. I suddenly realized Steven had been in control ever since Tiffi had joined us, and yet I'd been content to be Steffi. I wondered if that was significant.

Three o'clock found us back in our dorm, getting changed and packing our gym bags. We'd both chosen similar outfits, in the school colors: cotton cheer short-shorts and half tops over sports bras, with spare outfits in the bags, just in case. Our hair was brushed to a shine and in high ponytails again, tied with ribbons to match our outfits, and I'd done our makeup, for a minimal look that brought out our cheekbones and eyes. Tiffi could do her own makeup, of course, but she liked me to do it and I found that I enjoyed making her up. We had plenty of time, but quiet time before competition was a luxury, and we intended to make the most of it.

I sat cross-legged on my bed, eyes closed, holding Fraidycat, the oldest and most beloved of my stuffed animals in my lap (Of course I have a stuffed animal collection now, I'm girly). My iPod played the music I would use for my routines -- one dance, one gymnastics -- and in my mind's eye I was picturing each step, and twist, pirouette, and flip. Tiffi had finally cleared the floor of her clothes, and was doing simple yoga stretches, listening to her own music, and mentally rehearsing her own routines.

Tiff and I were old hands to competition, having grown up competing in dance, gymnastics, and cheerleading. We'd long since learned that being twins could be a liability; if we dressed and performed alike, we'd look like a Vaudeville gimmick, and no serious coach would give us a second thought. To avoid that, although our outfits were in school colors, she wore the home colors, mine were the away colors. Our routines were equally difficult, but quite different, so as not to cause any confusion in the minds of the judges. We would try not to audition consecutively, as well. If we managed to make the team before anyone noticed we looked alike, so much the better.

I debated calling Tom forward, but we didn't have a lot of time, and I really had no new ideas to share. I worried that if I called up Tom, Tiffi might lose her focus, too -- she was the one under the compulsion to try out for the cheerleading team, and I didn't want to add to her stress. Even though I had the freedom to do what Steven wanted while Tiffi was around, my options were limited; I couldn't leave Tiffi's presence, or I'd lose that control and just be Steffi again. For now, it was just easier to go with the flow.

As four o'clock rolled around, pulled on fleecy sweats over our skimpy clothes, filled our water bottles, and grabbed a couple of apples each from the dining hall. Slinging our gym bags over our shoulders, we set out for the short walk to the Athletic Center.

At the AC we found members of the cheerleading squad in their uniforms, ready to direct us to the sign-in table. This year's squad had already been chosen, mostly. The members returning from last year's squad had started practices in late summer, before the school year started, the same time as the football team. It made sense; they both had to be ready for the same opening game, which was a week from Sunday. Today's tryouts were for the freshmen year, to fill any positions left by the members of the team who had graduated the previous spring, or who had simply decided not to return. I figured most of us who made it past the tryouts would pad out the dance team, until the coaches could see where we could fit into the stunt and gymnastics routines, and get enough practice under our belts so they were confident we could perform the routines safely and well.

At the sign-in desk, other members of the squad took our applications and were directed into the gymnasium proper, to wait in the bleachers. Judging tables had been set up in different areas for the different parts of the tryout. The gymnastics area had floor mats set up for the routines, while the cheer and dance areas just had lots of open space.

Like most of the others there, we had too much nervous energy to just sit, so we dumped our bags, stripped out of our fleecies and just milled around, pretending to stretch and warm up, but really just checking out the competition. Everyone was in full cheerleader mode, in case the judges were watching: big smiles, warm, friendly introductions, and heartfelt best wishes for the tryouts. An outsider might have been surprised to discover that it was mostly sincere, but you have to be a certain type of person to want to be a cheerleader. That's not to say we couldn't be competitive bitches, too, but we'd save that for the floor. Besides, when you were trying out for a job that involved being tossed into the air and -- in an ideal world -- caught, it wasn't smart to piss off any potential catchers.

There were about fifty girls, plus about a dozen guys, most of them looking fit and trim in shorts and tight tee shirts. More than once I caught myself checking out a firm butt or a nice set of abs. Most of the girls were taller than Tiffi and me, but there were a few other potential flyers.

Sharp at 4:30 an officious-looking woman with a clipboard strode to the center of the gym, and blew a whistle. "Welcome, people! As you can see, there are a lot of you, so we'll get right to it. You'll be divided into three groups, each group will start at one of the judging areas, and when each group has been judged, you'll rotate to the next group. The list of those who pass the first cut will go up tomorrow. Those of you who make the cut will report to cheer practice on Monday, and we'll see how you fit into the squad. We'll make our final cuts after practice on Friday. I apologize for the compressed schedule, but we have an unusually large number of spots open this year, and our first game is only a little over a week away. Any questions?" There were always questions, and I rolled my eyes impatiently. Finally the cheerleader squad came out to divide us into groups. Tiffi and I hooked our pinkie fingers together and blew each other a kiss for luck -- a competition ritual we'd been practicing since we were little girls -- and Tiff moved off to join a separate group.

Like most tryouts, it was a lot of waiting around, while other people did what it wasn't your turn to do yet. As a potential cheerleader, you were expected to encourage your potential teammates, and it was exhausting to remain upbeat and energetic throughout the evening and still have the focus necessary to execute your own routines. I hit my gymnastics routine spot-on, and my dance routine and my cheers seemed to have been well received, so I felt I had done the best I could do. Of the girls I had seen perform, I judged three or four were serious competition, with the build to be flyers, although none of them were as small as Tiffi and me. I had no idea if they even needed flyers. If they didn't, our small size put us at a disadvantage. I managed to catch Tiffi's dance, and she looked awesome -- and of course by then she'd made a crowd of friends to cheer her on, too. Not to say that I wasn't being friendly towards the other girls, too, but Tiff did it so effortlessly. She was a natural leader.

Of the guys I'd seen, a few were here to leer at the girls and wouldn't last long. At least one had been escorted out already. The others were more serious about it. They were probably here for the girls, too -- male cheerleaders generally aren't gay -- but they were probably smart enough to realize that their odds would greatly improved if they actually made the team. To be fair, several had the builds to be good cheerleaders, not too husky, leg and arm strength, and good looking to boot. Some were very good looking. These were potential bases: individuals with the strength to hold a formation together, or to toss helpless little flyers into the air, and catch them in their big strong arms.... Shit! Where did that come from? I was afraid I knew.

Tiffi flopped down beside me, sipping from her water bottle, and digging an apple out of her bag. "Which one do you like?" she asked, snuggling up next to me and trying to follow my line of sight. "Blue shorts?" She made a face. "Bleah, I think I caught him checking out the guy in the red stripes, over there. Not that I blame him, though." I giggled, "Tiffi! You're awful." I nudged her. "So, how'd it go?" She grinned and took a bite of her apple. "I think the gymnastics went okay, and the dance felt good. Cheers were okay." I stole a sip of her water. "Your dance was awesome." I assured her. She gave me a pleased grin. "Really? Your floor routine looked perfect." I smiled modestly. "Yeah, it was." She gave me a good-natured swat. "So, who's the competition?"

I pointed out the girls I'd noticed and we compared notes for a few minutes, before there was another whistle, and the clipboard woman announced, "That's it for tonight, people! Thank you all for coming, names will be posted in the hall by end of day tomorrow. If your name is on the list, report to cheer practice on Monday." She ceded the floor to one of the uniformed cheerleaders, who called out "The Cheer Squad invites you all to a social hour at Mulligans! Nine thirty, don't be late!"

Tiffi and I looked at each other. The unspoken message was that this was when the cheer squad would meet their potential teammates socially, so they could make their own recommendations to the list. Attendance would mandatory.

Shit, Mulligans. Bridget. I need to talk to Tom.

I sighed and checked the time. "It's 7:30 now, let's go get something to eat, first. I'm starved."

Naturally, Tiffi had acquired an entourage, so eventually there were six of us bundled against the chill air, walking to the Campus Center to see if the cafeteria was still open. Fortunately for my rumbling tummy, it was.

"Does anyone know what spots are open?" one of Tiffi's new friends was asking as I followed Tiff back to the table with my veggie lasagna and a carton of chocolate milk. Tiffi shook her head as she sat down. "Hard to say. I chatted with one of the girls on the squad for a bit. They had a bunch of the squad graduate, and apparently there's a few injuries, too. So she's not sure if they'll go with a smaller team this year, or take on a lot of freshmen." She flashed me a smile. "They're definitely short on flyers, though." I cheered and slapped her a high-five.

We needed to rush dinner a bit so we could head back to the dorm and get ready to go out. As hungry as I'd been, half of my lasagna was all I'd needed. I think I mostly lived on sunlight, now.

Back in the dorm, we were pressed for time, but I had to talk to Tom. "Tiffany, remember." Tiffi froze for a moment, and then shook her head. "Damn, you've had a busy day." I was busy stripping off my clothes and getting ready for a run through the shower. "We haven't got much time, we have to be at Mulligan's in an hour." I threw on my robe, and began sorting out what I was going to wear. Something in me was craving a long, leisurely bubble bath. "What do we do about Bridget? Do we wake the Dean?"

Tiffi had stripped and was in her robe as well, it appeared Tom was letting Tiff do her thing. She was rummaging through her drawers, looking for a clean bra and panty set. She finally tossed a red t-shirt bra and a pair of cotton undies on the bed. "Why bother?" she asked dejectedly. "It's not like she'll be very happy about it, and there's nothing anyone can do for her."

I'd already chosen a bra and panty set in black, in a lacy floral pattern, laying it neatly on my bed, and was sorting through the clothes in the closet, looking for inspiration. "Well, I don't know if she'll want to, but she could help us. With her disk destroyed, Jacobi can't do anything worse to her. Which isn't much incentive, I guess." I admitted. "But, " I paused, meaningfully. "she can touch the disks. Tom, if we want her help, we have to at least talk to her." I settled on an drapey off-the-shoulder tee in a cream shade that went well with my chestnut hair, and matched it with a pair of skinny jeans. Tiffi decided on a black denim mini and a football jersey-style croptop. "I don't see what she can do." she muttered. I began pinning my hair up to keep it dry in the shower. A thought struck me.

"What does Tiffi remember from our conversation this morning?" Tom thought about it, then shrugged. "Not much. It's not a gap, or anything she'd panic over. She remembers the run, but thinks that whatever we talked about, wasn't important enough to remember." I puzzled it over. "I wonder if the magic added that, to keep Tiffi from noticing you. That'd be a quick path to the crazy house." She shrugged, "It's as good an explanation as any."

I pressed on. "What do you remember between then and now? What's it like for you?" She sat on her bed and grinned ruefully. "Well, I suppose it's better than I expected. I remember it all. I am Tiffany, li'l sis. I'm not just trapped inside, like you are. What happens to me, is happening to Tom, too. Tom's still experiencing and remembering everything. I don't have any separate thoughts, no separate identity. When Tom's at the front, it's just... a big chunk of memory becomes more important. But everything that's happened since we were changed, that's part of Tom's memories, too." Her eyes widened as a realization struck.

"This morning, Tiffi's feelings, her likes and dislikes, her memories, they all felt second-hand, like they belonged to another person. But even after not even a day, they're closer. I remember what Tiffi thought, how she felt, why she did something, today -- those are my memories, too. In a week, a month, a year's time, my most recent memories will all be walking, talking, thinking, being Tiffany. The memories of an old college prof might not disappear, but they'll get farther and farther away..." She went quiet for a moment. I sat down beside her and gently took her hand. "You like that idea."

Her eyes were downcast, and her lip started to quiver as she nodded. "I'm sorry, sis." I put my arm around her and pulled her gently to my chest as the tears came, and big, racking sobs. "It's okay, Tiffi sweetie, it's fine, it's fine. I like being Steffi, too. It's who I am, now." We clutched at each other and rocked gently on the bed. My own tears were sliding down my cheeks now. "I don't blame you for wanting to be happy. I want my big sister to be happy." Tiff was always my rock, her distress tore at my heart. I buried my face in her hair. "We'll figure out something, I promise," I whispered. I just wish I knew what.

I rocked Tiffi and we just let our frustrations out and cried for several minutes. Eventually Tiffi heaved a last shuddering sigh and straightened, reaching for the tissue box. "Damn," she grimaced, dabbing at her eyes. "So much for your makeup job. " I half-sniffled, half-laughed, and she passed the tissues over with an affectionate nudge. I blew my nose, making a rather un-ladylike sound. "We should really get moving." Tiffi nodded and pushed me off her bed and onto my feet. "Off to the showers with you, baby sister." Heaving an exaggerated sigh, I droned, "Yes, big sister," and proceeded to shuffle slowly to the door. She stood up behind me and swatted at my backside. "Trudge faster!" she commanded, and I squealed and scampered off to the showers, with her in hot pursuit, the two of us giggling like fools.

We'd become separated for a moment in the hallway, so I knew Tiffi was just Tiffi again. I wondered why she thought we'd been crying, but I wasn't going to ask, in case she'd blotted the whole episode out. I didn't know what to do about Tom. Was it selfish to call him back?

Occupied with these thoughts, I hung my robe on the hook and leaned into the shower stall to turn on the water, only to shriek loudly and leap back, clutching the shower curtain around me for protection. Tiffi stuck her head out of her own stall. "Steffi! What is it?" I pointed towards the daddy longlegs in the drain. "Spider," I squeaked. Bugs. I'm afraid of bugs. I am such a girl.

Spider dispatched, we showered quickly and sped back to our room. I'd soaked a couple of washcloths in cold water, and made compresses to help our puffy eyes. A little extra attention to our makeup helped to hide the evidence of our cry. Dressing quickly, Tiffi fretted about the time while I selected the right pair of dangly earrings, a choker necklace, and some plastic bangles. I pinned my hair at the nape of my neck with a leather barrette, Tiff left hers free. She pulled on her beloved Western boots, I slipped into a pair of strappy heels -- I'd be the big sister again, the taller one, anyway -- a little dab of perfume, grabbed our jackets against the chill, and we were off.

Mulligan's on a weeknight was only semi-crazy, which means the back room was closed to keep the front room entirely crazy. The noisy crowd was mostly students, of course; all of the tables and booths were occupied, and much of the space in between, as well. There was a DJ presiding over a tiny dance floor, but nobody seemed constrained to actually dance within its boundaries, and the result was elbows flying, hips bumping, and toes stepping everywhere. The thumping beat of the music vied with raucous voices for domination, it was chaos in motion, it was infectious; you either loved it or you didn't stay.

We waved to Bridget as we came in, and squeezed through the crowd towards her. Bridget had just finished delivering a round to a table in the far corner, and as she saw us she waved excitedly back and waded through the crowd towards us. She navigated the shifting maze of bodies with an ease that I envied; of course, she'd had a lot of practice -- and being built like an operatic valkyrie didn't hurt, either. She had a good eight inches and probably sixty pounds on us. None of it excess, really, just... big. Big hipped, broad shoulders, generous bosom, rusty-orange hair braided loosely down her back, and an open, honest smile that somehow involved her entire face, for an effect that was greater than the sum of the parts.

She bravely accepted the hugs of the terrible twins head-on, wrapping her arms around us to give us a squeeze of her own. "How're ya doin' Bridge? Good crowd tonight." Bridget grinned brightly, "Can't complain, the tips're good. Da's working the bar tonight, it's good to see him get out." She released us to give us the once over. "Lookin' hot, as usual, babes. What's the occasion?" We explained about the social hour, and she nodded. "That must be the bunch in the back room, we opened it up special for tonight, they said they were expecting a crowd. Stella's working back there. Make sure you say hi to Da!"

We gave her a finger-wave and turned towards the bar, as she called after us. "Oh! Tony's coming by later, with some of his work buddies. Jake'll be there, you can meet the best man!" I rolled my eyes and pretended not to hear. As her maid of honor I supposed I'd be seeing a lot of the best man, but her teasing tone implied she was playing matchmaker. I need that like a fish needs shoes.

At the bar Bridget's dad had seen us coming. He pointed at his cheek. "Tiffany and Stephanie Burke! You girls look ravishing, come and give your old uncle a kiss." He was a big, cheerful, red-faced man, stocky and tending to fat, the wispy remains of his red hair combed over from ear to ear. He'd been pensioned from his factory job a few years ago, after an accident had left him with a damaged hip, and a painful limp that prevented him from getting out much. There'd been some insurance money, enough to invest in a minor share of the bar.

We laughed and dutifully gave him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. "It's great to see you too, Uncle Brian." Technically he wasn't our uncle; he and Daddy had been in the same unit in the army, and our families had been close for as long as Steffi could remember. Which explained how we were Bridget's best friends, and worked Friday nights here. I was in awe of the magic's ability to weave us all together. This is the power of a god. Even one that's been forgotten for a thousand years.

Uncle Brian smiled, satisfied at receiving his toll. "Now you girls go have fun. I'm busy. Go, get on wit' ya."

We made our way to the back room, giving Stella a little wave as she hustled past us with a tray of drinks. This room was about the same size as the front room, with a capacity of maybe a hundred people on a busy night. Half the room was still cordoned off, which left plenty of room for our group, and kept us from drifting apart into separate islands. The music was piped into this room, too, loud enough to make sure that all conversations happened at full volume.

About half of the competitors at the tryouts seemed to be here, with a few more trickling in behind us. There were twenty or so members of the cheerleading team, wearing team polo shirts for easy identification, slipping between the knots of conversations, smiling, greeting, introducing, taking their measure of us. We stepped inside, peeling off our jackets, and looked around for a couple of seats at a table or a booth. Tiffi's friends from dinner had already acquired a booth, and they waved us to join them, so we slipped in to the outmost seats, facing each other. When Stella came by, Tiffi made the international gesture for two club sodas with lime, which involved placing her lips next to Stella's ear, and shouting "TWO CLUB SODAS WITH LIME, PLEASE."

The six of us chatted girl talk for a few minutes as we waited for Stella to return with our drinks, our eyes roving the room for especially cute guys or particularly sleazy outfits. Two of the girls were sure they wouldn't make the cut, and we did our best to reassure them. The rest of us were just cautiously optimistic about making the list. I found my body responding to the music, doing a little chair-dance in my seat, and Tiffi grinned at me. Finally Stella returned with our drinks, and Tiffi stood up and tugged me out of the booth. "C'mon, sis. Time to schmooze." We took our drinks and headed for the nearest group of people chatting, and I trailed along, and smiling and making light conversation (mostly starting with "Oh, you're twins!") as Tiffi worked the room.

Finally, we caught up with Dani, the cheerleader who'd announced the Social Hour invitation at the tryouts. It seemed she was the women's team captain, and she introduced us to Hector, the men's captain, a very well-assembled Latino with sparkling dark eyes, and teeth that flashed against his olive skin. Although they didn't make it obvious, the two of them seemed to be an item; I found that I was picking up on a myriad of details: how they were standing, the eye contact each made with the other as they spoke, subtle touches at the elbow or hip. To Steffi all of these things were as clear as a billboard. Steven would probably have missed the billboard.

"The two of you will make the cut, for sure, " she confided. "All the flyers will make the cut, but the coaches loved you." We blushed and made appreciative noises. "Why are you short on flyers?" Tiffi pressed. "They can't all have graduated, can they?" I heard the real question she was asking: What did you do with your last flyers, drop them?

Hector heard it too. "We lost one to graduation, and one took a nasty fall this summer -- rollerblades, not cheering -- and won't be back this year. So, we need to replace two flyers for sure, but the coaches thought they saw enough talent at the tryouts to maybe expand the team. It depends how things go at practice, of course." He grinned, "I promise, we work hard at being safe. We'll take good care of you." We pretended to be skeptical but magnanimously agreed to give him the benefit of the doubt.

By this time the event was winding down; we said our goodbyes and grabbed our coats, and headed through the front room, towards the doors. It had been an exhausting day, physically and emotionally, not to mention my first as a girl. I was hoping Tony and his friends hadn't shown yet, so we could make good our escape. The front room was every bit as crowded and noisy, which should have provided cover, but my hopes were dashed when Bridget waved energetically at us from across the room. I sighed inwardly and followed Tiffi as she waved back and changed course for the corner booth.

Bridget had finished her shift, and was wedged into the back of the U-shaped booth next to her fiance, clutching his arm around her shoulders, snuggling into him and looking altogether proprietary. Tony was tall and gangly, with unruly dark hair, a constant cigarette between his fingers, and a wispy little goatee that I had always found annoying. It broke my heart to know what was in store for her. Would it be a kindness to wake Isabella? She won't thank us.

"Hey, you two, why dontcha get married already?" Tiffi teased, as we slid in next to her. Bridget's eyes were bright. "We were just talking about you guys. Tiffany, Stephanie, this is Alex, and Jake. It's about time the wedding party finally met!" I looked dumb. "Wedding party? There's a party? Ooooh, I love parties! Who's getting married?"

Alex was seated opposite Tiffi, a husky guy of average height, probably a football lineman when he was in high school. He kept darting looks at Tiff and me, and then back out to the crowd. He threw us a little wave, "Uh, hi. Pleased to meet you." Steffi had seen that kind of behavior before and found it mildly annoying; as an ex-guy I recognized the symptoms. Two very pretty girls, up close. We're scaring the hell out of the poor guy. He cracked a smile as Bridget threatened to crown me with Tony's beer bottle, so I dared hold out some hope that he might loosen up before Bridget and Tony sailed off for their honeymoon.

Jake was, well... not bad. Dusky skin and Roman nose advertised his Mediterranean heritage, and his unkempt dark hair curled naturally against his head. He had one of those carefully groomed half-shaved looks, that as a former guy I knew was harder than just shaving, and when he smiled his teeth were just uneven enough to give his face character. He wore a denim shirt, unbuttoned over a white tee that emphasized a broad chest. His sleeves were rolled up over muscular tattooed arms. All the better to hold you with, my dear.

He stood up to shake hands with Tiffi, and then me. "Bridget's told us so much about you both. How long have you been twins?" he asked, sincerely . I blinked in confusion. "Well, I... we --" and then blushed hotly as he grinned and the rest of the table erupted into laughter. Big sister poked me in the ribs, "DUH!" I slapped my palm to my forehead and joined in the amusement at my expense, and waited for my color to fade.

Something deep in my belly twinged a little at my embarrassment, and spread tingles through my body. I shouldn't be enjoying this. Not this way. Way off in a distant part of my mind, alarm bells started to sound.

Bridget was nudging at Tiffi to let her out of the booth. "Let's dance!" Jake was on his feet and offering his hand to help me out of the booth before I could think twice, and Tony was pushing Alex to slide down and let him out. Tiff was close behind me. I knew she was enjoying the music, the same as I was, and she looked expectantly at Alex, who smiled shyly, not daring to look directly at her. "Uhm, w-would you like to dance?" She took his hand with a grin and dragged him onto the floor, with Bridget and Tony close behind.

Jake led me on to the floor. I tried to stay close to Tiffi and Bridget, but in the press of bodies, it was impossible, and Steffi took control. He wasn't a bad dancer, for a guy, and I found it easy to lose myself in the music. I had a dancer's trained body and feel for the rhythm, and I was a sexy young woman, and I was enjoying what the combination was doing for us both. After a couple of songs I saw Bridget whisper something to the DJ, and flash a grin and thumbs-up to Tony as she rushed back to his arms. The DJ bent over his mic and announced he was slowing it down, "for the lovers out there."

Jake took my hand and pulled me in close, the other hand around my waist. It was incredibly arousing to just focus on following his lead, responding completely to his will as we swayed, and spun, and dipped. I could tell he was enjoying it too, and that gave me an extra thrill, to please him. Inside my head, Steven was pressing the panic button, but the magic had made sure it was disconnected.

With the next song, he pulled me against him, his hands at the small of my back. I looked up at him with a half-lidded smile, and placed my arms around his neck, my breasts pressed to his body, and lay my head against that broad chest. His arms wrapped around me, holding me, guiding me, controlling me. Owning me. That thought sent a tingle down my spine that somehow wound up increasing the warmth deep in my belly, and my breath caught. I knew where this could be headed and that scared me plenty; but what terrified me was I didn't want it to stop. Just a dance, it's only a dance. Tiffi's just over -- I couldn't see her in the crowd.

With the next song his hands slowly strayed down my back and rested on the curve of my behind, then began gripping and kneading as he pulled me closer. My eyes widened at his clumsy grope, but widened further at the erotic rush that accompanied it. I pressed myself into him, crushing my breasts between us as my nipples began to swell and ache deliciously. I rubbed them against him as we continued to dance, and the intense, tight feeling of excitement in my belly moved down between my legs. Your body orgasms more easily and more intensely than most women's. Oh god.

He squeezed me so tightly I had to breathe shallowly, then wound his fingers painfully into my hair and pulled my head back, grinding his lips to mine with bruising force. I was startled, but the hurt blended with arousal, became exquisite. My only reply was to close my eyes, and accept his probing tongue, trying to caress it with my own. My pulse had begun to race, and my breath was coming quickly now. I moaned into his kiss.

By now the music had changed, and he turned me around, so we were dancing front-to-back, still wrapped possessively in his arms. I could feel the prominent bulge in his pants, and did my best to slide sensually against it when I could. Our dancing had caused us to drift to the edge of the room, and he turned us slightly, to face the wall. Thus concealed, his hand drifted up inside my loose shirt, slipping my bra up and cupping my naked breast, and I placed my hand over his and held it there as he squeezed it tightly enough to elicit a whimper. When he began stroking my nipple, it was an electric shock; my eyes flew open and I gasped. His lips were next to my ear, his voice a warm breath. "Oh, yes, you're quite the party girl, aren't you? You like this, don't you?" He rolled my swollen nipple between his fingers, just a little. "Say it. Tell me you like it."

My voice caught in my throat at the sensation, but I shook my head, token resistance. His hand released its grip and went still. "If you don't like it, I'll stop. Tell me to stop." My entire attention was focused on the aching need in my breast, the sudden lack of sensation, the hunger for stimulation. I bit my lip, "N-no. Don't stop." I tried to press against his hand, but he wouldn't allow it. "Say it." he hissed, "Beg me to twist it, hard." I flushed with humiliation, and the heat between my legs shot sparks through my body. I was so easily broken, had no will to refuse him; that part of me was lost, driven out by need, a yearning to obey, to cede control, to submit. Give yourself to him. You know you want to. "P-please," I whispered, "Do it. Hard. Please." The shame of having to beg to be hurt increased my arousal even more, I was wet, and empty, and desperate to be filled.

When his fingers clamped down brutally and twisted, I convulsed as the orgasm tore through every nerve of my body, far stronger than anything Steffi had ever experienced in her short life. The pleasure swept from my core out to the tips of my toes and the ends of my hair, and reflected back again, wave after wave. The room went away as my back arched and my knees buckled and muscles deep inside me clenched and spasmed.

His strong arms enfolded me, kept me from collapsing on the floor and thrashing, until I was able to breathe again. I just begged a man to hurt me, so I could cum. In the middle of a crowded dance floor. This is who I am now. Zero to full-blown, mind-wrecking, nuclear orgasm in sixty seconds. That thought, plus the shame of the certain knowledge that I wanted him to do it again, set up a feedback loop: my debasement was such an erotic rush that I orgasmed again, barely able to catch my breath before I lost control for the second time.

Jake pressed the lump in his pants into me, and I pressed back mindlessly, rubbing against it, craving the feel of it inside me. He chuckled softly into my ear, "Ooooh, college girl liked that, didn't you? But you've had all the fun. What's in it for Jake? I think we need a little privacy." I nodded, unable to speak, my breath ragged. He placed his hand on my hip, and walked us down a short hallway, to a back exit. The crowded bar was a thousand miles away; I wasn't aware of anything except the two of us, the heat where our bodies touched, the insatiable need between my legs. I leaned heavily on him, weak and wrung out, wanting him so badly I could barely think.

We stepped out into the alley, and he slammed my back to the wall, kissing me hungrily. "You want it, don't you, bitch? If you want it, lift up your shirt and show me your tits." There was no thought of denying him; compliantly, I lifted my top and held it under my chin, putting my breasts on display; one he'd already slipped out of my bra, the other still restrained within the lacy black cup. With one finger, he flipped the bra off my covered breast and licked his lips. "Shimmy." Obediently, I shimmied slowly, swaying my breasts to and fro in the dim light, biting my lip as I watched him watch me. My nipples were intensely hard in the chill night air, areolas pink and full on pale skin. I whimpered as he flicked at them with his thumb and forefinger, and rubbed deperately at the crotch of my jeans, my arousal still increasing, finding no upper limit. "Good girl," he whispered, and I smiled, knowing I pleased him; the pleasure that gave me and the understanding that I wanted to be his good girl flooded into the rush I was getting from my humiliation and shame, and sent me over the edge for the third time, and the world dimmed again as my legs turned to wet spaghetti, and I rode waves of bliss as I slid down the wall to my knees.

I was dimly aware of the sound of a zipper, and then his hand was clenching my hair again, jerking my head up, and something was at my lips, insistent, demanding entry. I opened and accepted his cock with no question, my eyes meeting his, looking for his approval, desperately wanting to be his Good Girl. This wasn't where I yearned for him to fill me; but it wasn't for me to choose. Steven's guy-knowledge was inaccessible; I was a novice, unsure of what would please him. I swirled my tongue around his cock, lubricating it with my saliva, clamping my lips around it and bobbing my head as far as his grip in my hair would allow. His voice was husky, "Yeah, college-girl, that's the way..."

He pulled me closer, forcing his full length into me, almost making me gag. He felt huge in my small mouth, but I did my best to give him pleasure, watching his face for clues. His cock grew even harder as I sucked, and the night sounds of the alley were punctuated by my slurping and sucking noises, and his rhythmic grunting as he drove his cock down my throat. After a short time, he grew even more frantic, and after a few deep thrusts, he pulled all the way out, and with a triumphant grin, ejaculated ropes of sticky semen all over my face. I was caught by surprise, and he laughed at the startled look on my face; but then the rush of pleasure at bringing him to climax melded with my complete and utter degradation, and I slumped over onto my side in the filthy alleyway, curled up moaning and twitching in bliss like a junkie with a fix, as orgasm number four carried me away.

When the world came back into focus, Jake was gone. I just lay there, my cheek on the cold pavement; face covered in cum, breasts exposed, infinitely tired and numb. Steffi was in a state of shock, stunned by what had happened to her, her cooperation in her own debasement, unable to understand how she'd been so out of her mind with arousal that nothing else had mattered. The orgasms had run over her like trucks; compared to those, any of her previous orgasms had been butterflies. She wanted more, with an intensity that scared her, and she knew that each one changed her a little, made it harder to go back to being the person she'd been just half an hour ago.

A pool of light appeared in my bug's eye view of the alley and the music grew suddenly louder as the door to the bar opened. "Steffi, you out here? Jake left..." Tiffi's voice. If I'm quiet maybe she'll go back inside. Footsteps. "Steff? -- ohmigod Steffi! Oh god, ogodogod baby, what happened? Please be okay, please be okay..." Hands tugged me up into a sitting position, and tugged my shirt down, and a warm body squatted down beside me, wrapping her arms around my neck and pressing her cheek to mine, rocking me gently, back and forth, back and forth. "Steffi, honey, talk to me, you'll be okay, baby, tell me what happened..."

I could feel her hot tears on my cheek, melting my cold detachment like an ice dam, and I began to sob soundlessly, releasing my own tears and fear and anguish. "T-tiffany... r-remember...." I could hear her breath draw in sharply, as Tom assessed the scene, but I was too far gone to help. I bawled and clutched my big sister like a little girl clinging to her last safe refuge in the world. "I-i-i just w-wan-na go hoooooome."

She was quiet a long time. Finally she drew a deep breath. "So," she said, "I can either believe in magic... or that my sister has somehow become a delusional nympho slut overnight and I have something in my head that sometimes takes over." She gave it some more thought. "Tough choice."

---

I woke slowly, curled up on my side and clutching Fraidycat to my chest. I realized we were in Tiffy's bed; she had her arm around me, snuggled into my back, protective even in sleep. My eyelids were sticky with dried tears, reluctant to open. I lay motionless, facing the wall, watching the shadows made by the early-morning sun. I felt bone-tired, unable to summon the energy to face another day. To ever face Jake again. Or the one after Jake. Or the one after him.

The trip back to the dorm was a blur; somehow, Tiffi had managed to get me cleaned up and into a taxi, and got me undressed and into bed. I'd been cried out, numb, almost catatonic. She'd held me until I fell asleep, stroking my hair and rocking me, crying her own tears of hurt and frustration, feeling her baby sister's pain, knowing something was terribly wrong, and unable to take it away, or even understand what it was.

How much was Tom, and how much was Tiffi? Waking Tom was about the last thing I remembered clearly. I tried to remember if she had ever left my side. I had to imagine she must have, at some point, leaving Tiffi to cope; and I couldn't guess what she would be thinking when she woke, or what I could say to her.

I sighed heavily, and continued my examination of the wall. Tiffi's arm stirred, and gave me a squeeze. "Hey," she whispered sleepily. I nestled into the curve of her body, treasuring the safety and security I felt, unwilling relinquish the moment. "Hey," I responded, reluctantly.

We lay together a little while. Finally, she said in a little voice, " I was so scared... you were just lying there... I didn't know what to do..."

My heart ached at the anguish in her voice, pushing aside my own self-pity. I rolled over to face her, touching my head to hers, meeting her eyes. "You did good, big sis." I reassured her. "I'm so, so sorry I scared you."

"But... baby, what happened?", she pressed, gently. "What did that bastard do to you?"

I was silent . She needs to know her sister is a sex toy. This won't be the last time it happens. Finally I drew a deep breath, and screwed up my nerve. "Nothing I didn't want him to."

I couldn't meet her eyes, look at the shocked expression on her face. "Tiff, he... pressed buttons I didn't know I had. All of them. I begged him to. I-I've never cum so hard, ever. You can't imagine...it was humiliating -- and I just kept getting hornier. I was at his mercy, I c-couldn't stop cumming..."

My eyes snapped open. He pressed my buttons. All of them. He knew. That bastard KNEW!

I needed to talk to Tom, but Tiffi deserved her chance to deal with this. I couldn't meet her eyes. I could feel her draw back a little, the weight of her gaze. "Tiff... I can't explain what it's like. I-it's like a drug. I couldn't get enough. I was so scared, but I wanted more anyway. He hurt me, humiliated me, and still I only wanted to please him. " I raised my eyes, she needed to know this. "Tiffi -- I'm so, so ashamed of what I did... but if he gets me alone..." I shivered, just thinking about it. "I-I'll do it again," I whispered.

Tiffi searched my face while she digested this. "Last night, when I found you like that... I was scared out of my mind... I couldn't think, didn't know what to do first. I was paralyzed -- but suddenly I was functioning, doing the right things, got us inside, into the bathroom. Made excuses to Bridget and got us into a cab, and home..."

She choked out a bitter laugh. "If it had been left to me, we'd still be rocking in that alley." She meets my gaze. "But it wasn't me. And it wasn't the first time. Yesterday I remember we sat right here and had a good cry, but I don't even know why -- it wasn't me that was upset, it was like I was doing the crying for somebody else --" I must have looked guilty. "You know what's going on." It was a statement of fact, not quite an accusation.

I rolled onto my back, covering my eyes. How could I explain? Tiff, our whole lives were just made up. We never existed before yesterday. "Oh, Tiff... it would make no sense, it's just crazy..."

The first slap caught me by surprise, leaving a red splotch on my arm. There was nothing playful about it. "Don't you dare hold out on me, Stephanie Louise Burke, " she hissed. "Not after the scare you gave me last night. Not after telling me. It. Could. Happen. Again." More slaps punctuated her words.

I grabbed at her hand to stop it, she was on the verge of hysteria. "Ow! Ow! Okay! But you won't believe me..." I held out my arm, and drew her into my shoulder, and I stroked her head softly. I took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "Where to begin... well, the person in your head, his name is Tom. The one in my head is Stephen..."

I did my best to explain about Jacobi and the disks, and about Isabella, and Tom, and Stephen. And the spells on all of us.

She was quiet a long time. Finally she drew a deep breath. "So," she said, "I can either believe in magic... or that my sister has somehow become a delusional nympho slut overnight and I have something in my head that sometimes takes over." She gave it some more thought. "Tough choice."

I smiled sourly, "Well, when you put it that way... I doubt I can prove it, but I can probably show you some evidence... Bridget, for one. I can wake Isabella."

She nodded, "And we can google for Stephen and Tom, I guess. If the magic is real, they were real, too."

I nodded, reluctantly. "I'm not sure if I want to know what happened to the old me, it'd be like reading my own obituary. Looking back, Stephen... wasn't the happiest guy. I was on the fast track to becoming a dusty old academic, at twenty-six. No girlfriend, no close friends, only acquaintances, and my work. I know I should feel more strongly, but for some reason, I don't miss being him all that much. I have all of his memories, but all of Steffi's too, and Steffi's are just... happier." I grinned, and gave her a squeeze. "And he never had a big twin sister."

I grew more serious. "There's one other thing we can test." I kept my voice carefully neutral. "The magic made us twins. If he'd given me red hair, you'd have red hair. If he made you tall, I'd be tall, too." Your body orgasms more easily and more intensely than most women's. "Tiff... I think you might have got the orgasm thing, too."

Silence. Then, "However shall we test this?"

As twin sisters growing up, Tiffi and I were no strangers to experimentation. We'd masturbated in front of each other, practiced our kissing skills, and even been casual lovers. We shared our bodies with each other as naturally as we shared everything else. But this was different. I pulled the covers aside and sat up, hugging Fraidycat to my knees, my knees to my chest. "Tiff, no, I... I can't. You know about the spell, even if you don't know whether to believe it yet. You know what I am now. If I do it, there'd be... complications."

Tiffi propped herself up on her elbow, and laid a hand on my arm. "Steffi, think about it. Magic or not, something has changed. You're vulnerable. How can you face Jake, or the one after Jake, or the one after him?"

I pulled my knees even tighter. "You think I haven't been wondering that?" I asked miserably. "I'm afraid to even go outside."

She sat up and put her arm around my shoulders. "I know, sweetie, I can't imagine what you must be feeling, but think it through. You're a submissive. Suppose you already had someone to dominate you, one who expected you to be obedient and faithful. What if... you met Jake, then?"

I set up the scenario in my head, and poked at it with a stick. "Might work." I mumbled. "So, it's worth a try then?" she pressed. I gave her a shy smile, and half a nod. "Maybe. But only if you want to do this."

Tiffi laughed and wrapped her arms around me, kissing my cheek. "To tell you the truth, it's turning me on big-time." Her nipples protruded through the thin nightshirt in confirmation. I protested, "That's the orgasm thing. Even a warm breeze turns us on, now."

She pressed her finger to my lips. "Shush. Now strip, and lie face down. Hands behind your back." She hopped off the bed and went rummaging through our drawers, pulling out a thin belt and some scarves.

I did as she ordered, rewarded for my obedience with a rush of arousal for my obedience. When she bound my ankles with the belt, and tied my wrists together with one of the scarves, I was trapped, helpless; the feeling was indescribable. I was so wet I was sure I was soaking the sheets, breathing hard, and trying to grind my nipples into the bed, with very unsatisfactory results. I watched as she pulled her nightshirt over her head, and removed her panties. They were already wet.

"Hmmm... one last thing...." She took a scarf and balled it up, poking it into my mouth. I pretended to struggle and bite at her, and she slapped my nose, gently. "Bad girl." She took the last scarf, and tied it around my head, securing the gag in my mouth. I couldn't stop whimpering, my need was so great.

Her face took on an evil grin. "I know somebody who's ticklish..."

My eyes went wide and I squealed into the gag and shook my head, but she was too fast for me, sitting astride my legs and running her fingers lightly along my ribs. "Let's see how many ribbies Steffi-girl has... ooh, there's one!" I squirmed frantically, but she was inescapable. On the third rib, the orgasm hit me, giggling uncontrollably and cumming at the same time. I spasmed so hard Tiff looked worried. "A-are you okay?" I nodded my head, panting through my nose. "Did I hurt you?" I shook my head vigorously, and her eyes widened in realization.

"Oh, hell yeah, I'll have what she's having..." She untied my gag, and pulled the scarf from my mouth, then lay down on the bed with a broad grin. "Your turn, my little Steffi-girl inchworm. Do me."

I set about it with a will, awkward though it was; with my wrists bound behind me, I couldn't protect my breasts as I flopped about, and more than once crushed one or the other painfully, which only added to the intensity of my arousal. I began kissing her shoulder softly, working my way down towards her erect nipple. Her breathing was already ragged before I was halfway there, and I had barely taken it between my lips before she cried out, clutching at my head and arching her back.

Tiffi's pleasure increased my own erotic thrill; my pulse was racing, and I was gasping for breath, but I gave her nipple no relief, knowing how sensitive my own nipples were. I continued to suck and nip at it gently, and the second orgasm came hot on the heels of the first, followed quickly by my own.

I lay with my head on Tiffi's stomach, waiting for the world to come back into focus. "Oh, man. Steff, I had no idea. That was... I never... god... wow. Just... wow." she panted. I nodded. "Now you know." Her belly twitched and she giggled at the touch of my breath. "Tickles."

I grinned, and blew gently across her tummy, drawing goosebumps as the perspiration cooled. She squealed and clutched at my head. "No, stop!" I shifted awkwardly and began kissing my way across her belly, as lightly as I could, working my way down, enjoying the way her muscles would jump at my gentle touch. The protestations continued until I drew my tongue delicately along her slit, tasting her juices, and she lost the capacity for coherent speech. I gave her a brief respite before probing inside, and very slightly flicking her clitoris; her reaction was the most intense orgasm yet, and my own climax followed quickly. She managed to escape onto the floor, while our breathing slowed somewhat.

"Bad Steffi," she scolded, rising to sit on her heels, looking over the edge of the bed, into my face. "I said stop! Let's see how you like it!" She slapped my backside, hard enough to make me wince, and my heart begin to race again. "Get it up, Steffi-girl! On your knees, head down."

Quick to obey, I propped my butt up into the air, arms still tied behind my back, knees apart, my face on the bed, facing hers. She smiled sweetly, "Don't you move," as she drew her finger lightly along the inside of my thigh.

My eyes half-closed in anticipation, and I moaned softly. My legs twitched, but I held as still as I could, as the finger drew closer, ever closer, to my throbbing pussy. Finally, the finger reached its goal, and stopped, teasingly. My eyes looked questioningly to Tiffi.

"Who's the big sister?" she demanded. "You-you are." I whimpered.

"Who's the little sister?"

"M-me, I am."

The finger, pressing lightly against my nether lips, had become the focus of my existence. I squirmed a little, trying to slip it inside me, but she was having none of it. "Uh-uh! I said stay!" The finger withdrew for a moment, and I whimpered again, until it returned.

She pretended to look puzzled. "But, you don't sound like the little sister."

I knew what she wanted; we had big-sister and little-sister voices we'd use sometimes, to tease each other. "I-I'm the widdle thithter." I lisped, in a little-girl voice.

She smiled brightly. "Much better! Good girl!" That was a mistake, when she said the words, I squealed and came again, gushing over her finger. I struggled not to move, almost collapsing as my muscles turned to rubber, but barely managing to hold my pose. Tiffi's eyes widened. "Holy shit..." She looked frightened, as she began to realize this wasn't just a sex game, the degree of power she held over me. "Steffi... we can stop..."

I shook my head, "I'm the widdle thithter," I repeated, when I could speak again. I was aching, empty. I wanted, needed something inside me. Tiffi took a deep breath, and I bit my lip as her finger returned. "Say please."

"Pleathe." I squeaked.

"Pretty please."

"Pwetty pleathe. With thugar on it." It was taking all my will to remain still for her.

"Okay, little sister. Since you asked."

The finger, when it came, had company; Tiffi slipped three fingers deep into me, and stroked them enthusiastically until I collapsed into a shuddering heap. This time the world went away, and stayed there.

When I woke up, we were spooning again, Tiffi pressed to my back, her arm around my waist. I was surprisingly at peace, inside. I let out a contented sigh, putting my arm around hers and snuggling her close.

"Hey, big thith." I blinked in surprise, my little-girl voice just seemed automatic.

Tiffi choked out a half-laugh, I realized she'd been crying. "Oh, Steffi, he really fucked you up, didn't he?"

I shrugged, wordlessly. There wasn't much I could say. She accepts Jacobi did this, at least.

"What are we gonna do?"

"The betht we can, I gueth. Talk to Ithabella. Twy to figure thomething out." I hesitated. "Can you... keep doing thith, fow me?" My new voice seemed the most natural thing in the world. I sounded like I was maybe four years old, and for some reason it didn't bother me a bit.

She was quiet for a moment. "It scares me, Steffi, it scares me so much, to have such control over you." She whispered. "And God help me, it turns me on so much."

I rolled over to face her, twining our legs together, kissing her softly on the lips. "It'th okay, Tiffi, weawwy." I chirped. "I wove it, too."

She laughed sharply. "God, I love that voice -- why are you still talking that way?"

I smiled softly, and shrugged. "Becauthe you wike it."

She sighed dryly, "Well, you'd better stop, or we'll never get out of here."

I grinned, and spoke in my normal voice. "Tiff, you have to understand: First, I trust you. I know you would never harm me. I promise you, anything, anything that turns you on, will turn me on, it's just how I am, now. Second, I am what the magic made me. I need this. You didn't do this to me, you're not taking advantage of me, you're giving me something I have to have. Otherwise, I'm at the mercy of the next Jake I happen to meet. If it wasn't for you, well, you saw what will happen to me. And I'll want it."

She nodded reluctantly, accepting the truth in my words, but her lower lip began to tremble. "B-but I just want my little sister back... I know we were never real -- but she was real to me."

I stroked her hair, and reassured her. "No, no, sweetie, we were -- we are real. This is reality now. We are as real as Tom and Stephen ever were. We were always real." Maybe. Don't think about it too hard. "And I'm still here, big sis. Maybe we just need... boundaries?"

She mulled that over. "How about... inside this room -- no, we'd never get any homework done..." Her eyes lit up. "When I call you 'Steffi-girl', it's playtime." She leered. "And you have to use the voice. When I call you 'Stephanie Louise', it's over, and you're just my baby sister again. Does that work, Stephanie Louise?"

I tested it out in my head, then nodded cautiously. "I think so."

She grinned and sniffed delicately in my direction. "Good. Because you really need a shower." "Me?" I squealed, mortally offended. She nodded seriously then added airily, "But don't worry. I'll have one too, just to stay in practice."

After stuffing our clothes and the bedsheets into the hamper, and opening the window to hopefully help clear the room of the smell of girl sex, I followed Tiffi off to the showers feeling lighter in my heart than I thought was possible. I turned the water on -- after checking for spiders -- as warm as I could stand it, and just let it wash over my body. My breasts were still pretty sore from the rough treatment they'd received, especially last night; Jake's fingers had left a painful bruise along the outside of my left breast. I felt like I'd been working out muscles that hadn't been exercised in a long time, which I guessed was true enough.

Today was Friday, which was a slack day for us, school-wise. Tiffy had a class before lunch, and I had one in the afternoon. In the evening we worked at Mulligan's, and I was still nervous about meeting Jake again. After dressing in sweatpants and tee shirts and grabbing breakfast in the dining hall, we headed back to the room.

"I'd like to talk to Tom, if that's okay," I asked cautiously. I wasn't sure how she felt about Tom. "At least to thank him for getting us home last night." I was a little surprised when she readily agreed.

"I-I'm not sure what the protocol is," she smiled nervously. "Thank him for me, too?" I nodded, and quickly said "Tiffany, remember," before she could stress over it too much.

Tiffi blinked, and then shook her head. "You had us worried last night," Tom said.

I chuckled humorlessly. "That makes four of us. I -- we -- can't thank you enough. Tiffi said you managed to get us all the way home, that must have been rough."

She shrugged it off. "It wasn't so hard. I told Bridget you were tired and stressed over the cheerleader tryouts. Lame, I know, but she let it slide. I think she noticed you and Jake disappear together, and return separately. There'll probably be some questions tonight, she'll be worried about you."

I made a wry face. "If it's just questions tonight, we'll be lucky." I explained my suspicions about Jake. She mulled that over, but in the end, had to shake her head. "It's possible, but I don't see why Jacobi would bother. Or how he and Jake are connected. Maybe Isabella can help?"

I nodded, I'd come to the same conclusions. I studied her face. "How are you doing? I don't know how I might help you, is there something that Tiffi or I could be doing?"

She gave a self-deprecating shrug. "I can't complain, really, since I'm not even here unless you call me out. Just... don't forget about me?" I gave her a strong hug, and kissed her on the forehead. "We won't forget, I promise." She smiled sadly, and hugged me back.

I had to ask the question. "How's Tiffi really doing?"

She thought about it for a few moments, examining their recent memories, before exhaling slowly. "It's... complicated. She's just a kid, she's had real sex twice in her life, fumbling boy-girl stuff -- well, you know. You two giggled under the sheets once in a while, but that was just for fun; it's always been boys, for her.

"But it's not just playing, anymore. Suddenly she's her sister's dominatrix. Which maybe makes her a lesbian. And incestuous, to boot. Which confuses her, because the idea really, really turns her crank. She feels guilty for taking advantage of your need, and enjoying it. She feels guilty for wanting to just curl up in a ball and wish things back to the way they should be. She resents feeling guilty, and she feels more guilty for feeling resentful. She's worried, because she doesn't have any idea what you need, how far she should go to protect you against the Jakes of this world, how far she wants to go..." She drew a deep breath.

"And then there's the orgasms. Jeeezus, they're habit-forming."

I rolled my eyes. "Tell me about it."

Tiffi's voice was full of concern. "Steffi, she really needs to sort this out. You two are used to talking your problems out, but this time you're part of the problem. She's got nowhere to go, nobody who'd even believe her."

I sighed unhappily. I was carrying my own share of guilt, too, for imposing this on her. Inspiration struck. "Maybe... you and Tiff could talk? Well, write notes to each other or something?"

She brightened. "Yeah, that might work. We could just use her laptop." A chuckle. "We'll drive you nuts, though," she predicted.

I laughed. "Oh, right. My sister needs my help just to talk to herself. That's the thing that's gonna drive me nuts."

Tiffi went over to her desk, opened her laptop, and began typing. I closed the window against the chill, and sat down cross-legged on the bed with my own laptop, and began googling.

After a few minutes, I looked up. "Looks like Jacobi called it -- he's a new junior professor, and von Sturm's the new dean. Stephen Wirtz vanished about a year ago in Guatemala, he was using subsurface radar mapping to locate new Aztec pyramids. Which the old me remembers, except the old me remembers coming back."

I hesitated, and Tiffi looked up from the laptop. "And...?" I slumped in my seat, and read the obituary. "Thomas Ng, Dean of Archeology, passed away after a brief battle with cancer. The date is just a month ago."

Tiffi was quiet a moment, then she nodded slowly. "Makes sense. In my memory, I got the news two weeks ago. Skin cancer, it'd spread. Inoperable. The magic just changed the dates a little."

I was aghast. "Oh, Tom, I'm so sorry..." She shook her head. "Sorry? Why, for heaven's sake? I was as good as dead. The magic, well, " she gestured at herself with a wry grin. "A bit of an extreme cure, maybe, but when you consider the alternative, not too bad. Besides, you're dead, too." I had to concede the point.

Tiffi typed a little more, then stood up. "Well, here goes..." She left the room. A second later, Tiffi re-entered, looking a bit dazed. I watched her carefully. "Tom left a message for you, on your computer." She nodded absently, sitting down at her desk. "I know... I remember typing it. Just not what I typed. Weird."

Tiffi read for a minute, something in the message caused her to glance over at me and giggle before returning her attention to the screen. Shortly she began to type a response. "What?" I demanded, but she waved me off. "Nuh-uh, you'll see."

Before I could protest, my cellphone chimed; I dug it out of my purse and checked the message. "STA HERE 2NITE? CN TALK WEEDING PLNS." I grinned and typed a response. "NO PLNS 4 WEEDING. BRWN THUMB." I sent the text and looked to Tiff. "Do we want to stay over at Bridge's tonight? She wants to talk about the wedding." She nodded without looking up. "Yeah, that works. We just need to remember our teaching stuff. In the morning we can walk to the studio from there."

My phone chimed again. "WEDDNG WDDNG WEDNG GRRRR!" I typed back, "OK, OK, WELL STAY OVR. WHOS WEDDNG?" Bridget's response, when it came, was a row of angry emoticons, followed by one sticking his tongue out. Brides can be so touchy.

Tiffi finished whatever she was typing and sat back from her computer. "Can you bring Tom back now?" I raised an eyebrow, but said, "Tiffany, remember." Tiffi looked vague for a second, then Tom flashed me a grin. "This was a great idea. I think it's really going to help." She immediately started typing her response to Tiff, not even reading Tiffi's message; no need, since she'd been reading it as Tiffi was typing it. I realized I could tell who was in control just from the sound of the typing; Tom was a lousy typist.

I busied myself with a reading assignment, until Tiffi stood up and left the room again, barely letting the door close before she came back in to read Tom's response. She closed her laptop, looking mischievous. "Let's get dressed, then I'll show you what Tom and I were discussing." Uh-oh. They're conspiring, already.

Tiffi threw on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt for class. I started to sort through the closet, deciding what I was going to wear, but she stopped me. "Hold on a sec, sis."

She sat down on my bed, tucking her legs under her, and I sat down to face her. She took my hands in hers. "Steff, the whole talking to Tom thing... it was a brilliant idea, I love you for it. You have no idea how much it helps, to have another perspective on... all this." She made a face. "Anyway, with only the rest of the day before you're likely to run into Jake again, -- or somebody like him -- we thought it wouldn't hurt to keep reinforcing our new... relationship. So," -- the mischievous look came back again -- "I'm going to pick your outfit, Steffi-girl."

I couldn't help but shiver at her use of my playtime name, but I must have looked apprehensive, because her expression quickly became earnest. "It won't be so bad, I'm not sending you out naked, or anything. But Tom thinks this will really help."

I nodded, hestitantly. "Okay, thith," I squeaked, in my little-girl voice.

She clapped her hands and squealed, "Ooooo you're so adorable when you use that voice!" She leapt off the bed and began sorting through my drawers, holding up various of my bras for inspection. "Let's see... this one, I think... and nice lacy undies to go with..." She tossed me a sheer demi-cup bra, in black, and matching panties, followed in short order by a pair of white knee socks. "Put those on, while I pick a blouse and skirt -- oh, and you might want a panty liner," she grinned knowingly.

I changed while she terrorized my closet, finally selecting a collared blouse and a red tartan miniskirt. "Awww, not a thcoolgirl? Weawwy?" I protested, finally seeing where this was going. Tiff nodded brightly. "Less talk, more dressing. When you're dressed, I want your hair up in piggies."

The blouse was sheer, clearly showing off my bra -- and my excited nipples. I carefully parted my hair down the middle, and put it up in pigtails, tying them high above each ear with ribbons that matched my skirt. My hair was long enough that the piggies still fell well below my shoulders. Knowing what Tiff wanted, I put on some blush, blue eyeshadow, and went a little heavy on the mascara and eyeliner, finishing with a scarlet lipstick and a pair of large hoop earrings.

Tiffi had dug out my tallest heels; a pair of black patent stilettos with an ankle strap. I towered over her as she loosely knotted a black leather tie around my neck, fussing to make sure it was under my collar. The black strip ran straight down my chest and dangled off into space, like some kind of suicidal toboggan run. "God, you are so hot when you pout!" she exclaimed, pulling me down to her level and kissing me hard on the lips. "Grab what you need for this afternoon, and walk me to class."

"Yeth, big thithter."

"Good girl," she grinned. I squirmed with pleasure, then hastily added a few more panty liners to my purse and grabbed some books -- any books -- I could hold to my chest, and followed Tiffy out.

The air was chill, although the sun was warm; I wished Tiffi had let me wear a sweater. On the bright side, at least there'd be a more innocent explanation for the little tents in my blouse. I felt like an eye-magnet. I was sure that even over the horizon, men were looking in the direction of my tits and drooling. "I wook wike a thlut." I sulked, in my little-girl voice.

"You look like sex on toast, baby sis." she agreed. "I know it seems harsh, but Tom and I thought it would be a good for you to be an obedient girl, to reinforce the mind-set, even when I wasn't around. We needed to come up with something you wouldn't want to do, otherwise there'd be no point in doing it. Hopefully, you'll get used to feeling that I'm in charge, even when I'm not around."

Owned. The thought depressed Stephen and turned Steffi on; but I had to admit the logic seemed sound.

We'd arrived at her building. Tiffi stopped for a moment and straightened my tie. "Okay, a few rules. You're not to go back to the dorm until after your class this afternoon. You're not to hide; you have to go to class, and you have to remain in plain sight of at least five people as much as possible..." She undid the third and fourth buttons on my blouse, exposing my cleavage almost down to my bra, "and those buttons stay undone." She gave me a quick peck on the cheek, and licked at my earlobe. "Num. I have an errand to run after class, I'll see you back at the dorm later."

I clutched at her arm as she turned to go, "Do I weawwy havta talk wike thith?" I sounded like a petulant child. She looked uncertain for a second, then winked and nodded, and disappeared into the building.

"Gweat. Jutht gweat." I muttered. I didn't have to do as I was told, but I really wanted to be a good, obedient, submissive girl, and the humiliation was providing some erotic positive reinforcement. I realized Tiffi and Tom had set up a clever fork -- if I could work up the nerve, I could disobey my instructions and just go back to the dorm, and the cycle would be broken, or at least dented. If I could be disobedient once, I could do it again, and it would become easier with time. On the other hand, if I was a good girl, then my obedience to Tiffi would be reinforced. Either way, I'd be more resistant to men like Jake.

I dithered on the busy sidewalk outside the building for several minutes. I'd take a few steps towards the dorm, but then my resolution would waver, and I'd take a few steps back, growing increasingly angry with myself. Like an addict, I knew what I wanted, but I didn't want to want it. Judging by the looks I was getting, I must have looked like an idiot. An idiot schoolgirl porno wet dream.

Eventually I stomped in frustration and caved in: either path led to freedom from Jake, but in the end, God help me, I really wanted to be submissive little Steffi-girl. As I headed off towards the library, motion at a window caught my eye; I thought I saw Tiff step back out of sight. It looked like she was crying, but that was probably just a trick of the light.

The library had seemed like the safest place to be; I thought could sit at a table in the open, in plain sight, hunched over some books, pretending to study. At least nobody would expect me to talk, but that was small consolation. The area around my table became the single most popular research spot in the entire library for horny teenage males; every time I would glance up, I could almost hear a Click! as dozens of eyeballs suddenly flicked back to the books in front of them. I was blushing and squirming uncomfortably, aroused, and humiliated by my arousal, and aroused at my humiliation.

I made several trips to the washroom to try to find some relief, and it came readily, but it was transient. My breast was still throbbing painfully, every time I moved; counterpoint to the delicious sensation in my nipples and below. I grew increasingly resentful of my predicament, but that didn't lessen what my body was feeling. The constant, persistent, horniness never went away, never even slackened. My nipples were still set on high beam, although the constant stimulation was rapidly becoming less pleasurable and more painfully irritating.

Finally, I sighed, clasped my books protectively to my chest, and headed to the Campus Center for lunch.

In the cafeteria I bought a toasted bagel with peanut butter and a chocolate milk, and grabbed a single table, facing the wall. I opened my books and pretended to read while I ate, hoping to discourage interruptions.

"Steffi? or Tiffi, I can't tell. Come join us!" Oh, shit.

I cringed, and turned to face the familiar voice. I smiled weakly, and gave her an embarrassed finger-wave. "Oh, hi Deb." Her eyebrows shot up as she took in my sluttish new look, and her lips quirked in amusement at the sound of my little girl voice. "Steffi?" I nodded, reluctantly. A few tables behind her I could see Anna and Carol. Both looked more than a little shocked at my appearance.

The scene seared itself into my mind, like a horrific photograph: Deb's eyes all over me, taking in all the humiliating details; my little girl pigtails, the thin blouse revealing the sexy bra underneath. The short skirt. The expanse of my breasts, beginning to burn with shame. Especially the hot points of my nipples, practically waving at her. Anna and Carol staring openly, beginning to whisper to each other and snicker at me. I was a deer in the headlights, frozen, mortified in front of the only friends I had made at school without Tiffi's help, now about to be lost forever.

I knew I could have stopped it there. I could have laughed it off, done up my blouse, and explained in a normal voice that I'd lost a bet, or something. They'd tease me for a few weeks, we'd giggle about it, and it would be over.

Instead, I chose -- I chose -- to give up my friends. To turn and run. The arousal I felt at this deepest, most public humiliation threatened to overwhelm me. My stomach churned at the knowledge of what I had freely given up, the path I was surely on, what I was, what I was choosing to be.

I grabbed my things and dashed for the washroom, ducking my head, blushing uncontrollably, my pulse hammering in my veins, my breath coming in gasps. The orgasm hit me as I was vomiting my lunch into the toilet.

I stayed in the washroom for as long as I could manage, praying they wouldn't follow me in. When I left, I went the long way around, avoiding the cafeteria just to make sure.

The class was anticlimactic; I arrived a few minutes late, so I could sit at the back of the lecture hall, speak to no-one, and be the first to leave. That's not to say it was uneventful -- somehow guys all the way at the front of the hall, who couldn't possibly have seen me come in, found a reason to turn and check out the back of the hall.

Collapsing on my bed back in the dorm felt like crossing a finish line. My stiletto heels had never been intended for walking around a large campus; my feet were cramped and sore, and my calf muscles felt on the verge of rebelling. My bra felt like sandpaper across my inflamed nipples; they were twin points of agony any time I moved. My bruised breast felt swollen and achy. My arousal had continued unabated all day; I slid my fingers into my panties and stroked myself to a shuddering orgasm, but the relief didn't last.

I longed to get undressed, but chose to remain in the clothes that Tiffi had told me to wear, until she said I could take them off again. I cursed my own submissiveness. By the time Tiffi came back, the afternoon sun had moved on. She found me sitting on the bed in the darkness, just staring off into space. I yelped and flung my arm across my eyes as she flicked on the light, startling her.

"Steffi! You scared me. Did I wake you?" I shook my head. "No, it'th okay." I squeaked, in the voice I knew turned her on.

"Oh. Well good news! I stopped off at the Athletic Center on the way back, we made the cut!"

"That'th great." I tried to copy the excitement I might have felt yesterday, but it seemed like such a small and distant thing, now. Still, I knew it was important to her.

She looked at me oddly, sensing that my enthusiasm didn't match her own, but she continued. "I went downtown this afternoon, I was shopping for a gift for you." She presented me with a jewelry box, I opened it to find a thin gold bracelet.

"Oh! It'th pwetty." I tried to mean it.

She nodded and showed me the inscription on the inside. "For my Steffi-girl, from Tiffi."

I forced a smile, "Thankth, I wove it!", as she slipped it onto my wrist.

"We -- Tom and I -- thought it might be another thing to help you."

Great. Like a slave collar, only more fashionable.

She gave me a hug, and her arm brushed across my breast. I flinched and turned away with a whimper. "Baby, what's the matter, are you hurt?" I shrugged. "It'th okay. Can I get changed now? We need to get going thoon."

Realization struck, she had the grace to look guilty. "Oh, my God, you were waiting for me to tell you? Oh, honey, of course you can, I'm so sorry. How did it go for you today?"

I stood up, turning to face her as I pulled the tie loose and began removing my blouse. I've been horny, and ashamed, and in pain most of the day for you. I shamed myself in front of three friends I can never face again. Shame you missed it. How was your day? My voice was neutral. "I did ath you told me."

I dropped my blouse on the bed, the bruise a dark, mottled stain on my skin. I unclipped my bra, removing it carefully, the swollen breast hanging painfully free. I cradled it with my arm.

Tiffi gasped at the bruise. "Oh, sweetie, what happened?" I shrugged, sitting to undo the straps and remove the shoes with my free hand, then standing up to slip out of the skirt. "That'th fwom Jake, latht night."

I sat on the edge of the bed to undo the straps and remove my shoes and knee socks with my free hand, sighing in relief as I wiggled my toes and flexed my heels. There was blood on one sock; a blister had burst. I pulled the ribbons from my hair and combed my fingers through it.

"And, those?" She winced at the sight of my nipples, still hard, red and raw-looking; with the bra off, the lack of stimulation felt wonderful.

"That'th fwom today." There was no accusation, only statement of fact.

Tiffi looked shaken. "From today? W-why are they like that?"

I checked the clock. "Becauthe they've been hard and wubbing againtht that thin wacy bra for about theven hours now."

"They were har -- oh, God, you've been turned on all this time?"

Oblivious to Tiffi's expression, I rummaged through my gym bag to find a small box of adhesive bandages, hooray for always being the one prepared for stubbed toes or broken nails. I carefully bandaged my blistered heel, then stuck one across each of my poor nipples, for protection.

I spoke in a detached voice, "I believe the idea wath to thpend the day doing thomething humiwiating. Tho I'd conthtantwy be weminded that I wath obedient to your dethireth, that you owned me. And being obedient maketh me horny ath hell. And being humiwiated maketh me hornier thtill." Tiff, you knew this.

I sorted through my drawers, pulling out a sports bra, and a lightly padded satin t-shirt bra, debating the merits of each on my sore breasts. Wincing at the thought of the sports bra compressing the bruise, I slipped on the smooth t-shirt bra. My nipples still hurt, but they didn't rub so much any more. I grabbed some clean panties and some sockettes.

Tiffi's face was anguished, "But... you didn't have to..."

I didn't dignify that with a reply as I squeezed into a clean pair of jeans, and turned to begin packing some overnight things into a bag.

"Oh, Steffi, baby, I'm so, so, sorry, I had no idea it would turn out this way." she said in a broken voice. She reached her hand out tentatively to touch my arm.

Sure, wind up sex toy Steffi, set her loose on campus, and take off for the day. What could go wrong? Oh, Tiffi, I trusted you!

"It'th okay." I refused to look at her, as I sat at our tiny makeup table and began to remove my makeup. "Do you want me to be Thteffi-girl tonight? I need to know what makeup I thould put on."

Tiffi withdrew her hand, and wrapped her arms around herself. "Oh -- no, of course not, Stephanie Louise." I could glimpse her in the mirror, looking lost, gazing blankly in my direction, but not really seeing. She hesitated, "C-Can you call Tom for me? Please?"

I wasn't especially interested in dealing with Tom. "You'd better get ready, we're gonna be late." It felt strange to use my normal voice.

Her voice was tiny. "I-I really need to talk to Tom. Please, Steffi."

I sighed. "Tiffany remember." I proceeded to redo my makeup for work.

Tiffi watched me in silence for a moment. "Steff, she's really sorry. It wasn't meant to work out like this." Tiffi's voice was a little stronger, coming from Tom.

"Fuck off, Tom." The words surprised us both, but they were delivered without heat. "If you want to talk to her, make it quick, because I'm leaving soon."

Tom gave me a worried look, but sat down and opened Tiffi's laptop. I pulled on a Mulligan's staff tee shirt, and started brushing my hair while she typed. I felt a little guilty, so I dragged it out until finally Tom stepped outside, and Tiffi stepped back in again.

I gave her a few moments to read Tom's message, before I reminded her. "You need to get ready for work."

Her eyes lit with accumulated frustration, and she shot to her feet. There was pain in her voice, but I refused to hear it. "Steffi, I said I was sorry! Talk to me! What can I do? What do you want from me?"

A big sister. "Nothing, " I shrugged, not meeting her eyes. "I said it was okay. Don't worry about it, it happens. You need to pack for Bridget's, too." My emotions felt wrapped in cotton wool, stifled.

Tiff threw her hands in the air, exasperated. "Alright! okay! Fine, I get it, I'm moving! I'm so glad to have a big sister." she said, acidly.

"Yeah, I used to be, too." The words were whispered before I could hold them back, hanging in the air between us like proverbial lead balloons. There was nothing more to say that wouldn't make things worse, so in the awkward silence I picked up my things and left for work.

Mulligans was a campus hot spot on a Friday night. It was already starting to bustle when I dropped my stuff in the office, pasted on my best cheerleader smile, and paid Uncle Brian his mandatory kiss. I told him Tiff was running late and she'd be along shortly, and hoped I wasn't lying.

Bridget was working the front room with Stella. I waved to her, and she stuck her tongue out at me before grinning and waving back. The back room was slower to fill, but there was plenty to keep a lone server busy, and with the loud music, and shouted conversations, and navigating trays of beer through the swelling crowds, I was grateful that it kept me too busy to think of anything else.

Presently Stella came back to work the room with me, and I caught sight of Tiffi in the front room. A small part of me was relieved that she'd made it, after that I looked for her when I could. In the glimpses I caught she seemed to be her usual cheerful self, waiting tables, flirting for tips, good-natured bandying with customers, dodging stray hands. Once I thought I caught her looking in my direction, but she looked away so quickly I was probably mistaken.

I wish I could have put on a show for her, pretended to be as upbeat as she was, but as the evening wore on, it was getting harder and harder to just do my job. The bandage on my blister had rubbed off, and the back of my sneaker was rubbing painfully against the sore with every step. My left breast had started to throb again, and it got worse if I used that arm; the first time I tried to lift a pitcher of beer left-handed I screeched and almost dropped it.

It didn't help that I was distracted and nervous, trying to catch sight of every new arrival, checking every face in the crowd, scanning every table, for Jake. I had no idea how I would react to him, if he was standing in front of me. I'd be very afraid, but I was worried that might not be enough. Once, I thought I'd seen his profile for a moment before it vanished in the crowd; I froze, almost unable to breathe, until the table I was waiting managed to get my attention again.

Still, I made it past midnight and was into the home stretch when Stella pulled me aside and pointed to the back of my shoe. The blister had burst and was bleeding freely down the back of my sneaker, and I had been leaving a trail of bloody heel prints.

"Steffi, seriously, you look awful. Take a break, and look after that blister."

I grimaced. "It's not that bad, really. I'll get another bandage from the first-aid kit."

Stella gave me a piercing look. "Kid, you've been limping for at least the last hour. Bridget said you weren't feeling well last night, and you look out of it now." She pressed the back of her hand to my forehead. "Are you okay? Maybe Tiffi should take you home."

I shook my head quickly. "No, no, I can manage. It's just another hour or so. If Tiff takes me home you'll be two short."

She sighed, and pushed me towards the office. "Go, sit down and take a load off. Get a bandage, I'll manage for a few minutes."

In truth, it was heavenly to just sit on the couch in the office, and close my eyes, but I didn't want Stella to wonder what had happened to me, and maybe tell Tiffi. I pulled out the first-aid kit and dressed the blister with some antibiotic ointment and a fresh bandage, and used some wide first-aid tape to cover that, to keep it from rubbing off against the back of my shoe again. Closing my eyes, I took a few slow, deep breaths, and then left the office, stepping into the narrow hallway.

To find that my way was blocked. "Hey, college-girl," Jake purred.

My heart stopped, and my breath froze in my chest for an age, then everything kickstarted, double time. "J-Jake... I need to go back to work now. L-let me by, please." I tried to look past him, but nobody was looking our way, and I couldn't shout over the music and noise.

His voice was smug. "Awww, now baby, don't be like that. We don't need to take long. You know you liked it. You want some more, doncha?" He took a step towards me, and another, forcing me to back away towards the door to the alley.

I shook my head, "No, Jake. No more. L-let me by." I tried to sound certain, but in fact I was far from sure. He was here, and now. His closeness made this morning's exercise seem a lifetime in the past. I clutched at my bracelet, like a protective amulet. Jake or Tiffi, what does it matter? They're all the same. I end up hurting.

He was close now, close enough to smell. Cigarette smoke, and musky cologne. The palm of his hand stroked my cheek, as I pressed my back to the door. My body was betraying me, reacting to his presence, the familiar fire building between my legs. His fingers curled tightly into my hair, making me gasp, and when his lips pressed tightly to mine, I invited his probing tongue without conscious thought.

He broke the kiss with a leer. "There, now, see? You say no, but you don't mean it, not for Jake." I couldn't look at him, couldn't raise my eyes. The betrayal of my body was complete; the arousal burning in my belly, washing over me, fueled by my submission, and shame, and degradation.

He placed his hand gently on my breast, and I winced in pain, and anticipation of pain. "N-no, don't... that -- that one hurts..." I pleaded, but he smiled cruelly. "But college-girl likes it rough."

Jake's fingers clamped down hard, almost exactly over the bruise, and the agony exploded, a cleansing white-hot wave that left room for nothing else. I screamed and clawed his face, my nails drawing deep furrows across his forehead and cheek. He jerked back instinctively, to protect his eyes.

"OW! Jesus!" He dabbed at the scratches tentatively, checking for blood, which was already beginning to flow. The agony still wracked me, I was hunched over, cradling my tortured breast, when the backhand caught me across the face, crashing me back into the door. Dazed, I barely felt him kick open the door, and shove me hard out into the alley. I landed on my back, wind knocked out of me, my head striking the pavement hard enough to blur my vision.

"You CUNT!" His kick caught me in the ribs, hard enough to lift me up and roll me over. I lay half curled, facing away from him, waiting for the final blow, the one that would end this; but it never came. From a million miles away, I sensed his departing footsteps.

I lay in the alley for a while, trying to curl myself around the pain, but there wasn't enough of me to go around. I worried that Tiffi would come looking for me again, and I couldn't let her see me, couldn't face her disappointment. I'm sorry, Tiffi, I tried to be a good girl.

It took about a hundred years to reach the wall, and another hundred for me to climb all the way to my feet, but I made it. I could barely see out of one eye, and the other didn't always want to point where I wanted to go, but slowly I managed to lurch towards the street. The good news is, I can hardly feel my blister. I giggled.

"Blister, sister.... sister blister..." That made an entertaining little song to sing, as my feet stumbled along the sidewalk. I was using whatever support I could find, storefronts, mostly, staggering across the sidewalk to the occasional streetlamp. Several times I discovered that I'd followed a wall around the corner into another alleyway, but they always seemed to open onto another street, eventually. Or sometimes maybe it was the same street.

Once, I needed to fall down and lie on the cold sidewalk with my eyes closed for a moment, or a year, before my path became clear. A couple of times, I could have sworn I heard somebody call my name, but I couldn't seem to draw enough breath to respond; besides, I didn't want Tiffi to find me. I had a plan, I was sure I did. I just wasn't telling me yet.

Eventually, I realized I was shivering at the front steps to the dorm building. The temperature had dropped sharply with the sun, there would be frost on the ground in the morning. My teeth were chattering, and I couldn't seem to catch my breath. The door to our room was stuck. Keys are in your purse. Purse is at the bar. Doesn't matter. You need a shower anyway. A warm, warm shower. Somebody's been bleeding on you. I stumbled my way to the showers.

Somebody had left something shiny on the counter by the mirrors. I grabbed it and held it in my fist, not letting myself see it, grinning at the game. It's a surprise. My breath was whistling in my throat as I spun the taps, taking great care to make sure the temperature was just right, before I stepped in, clothes and all, and slid down the wall. The shower splashed off the tiles behind me, soaking my hair and plastering my tee shirt to my back. It felt like a warm hug; good, comforting, it made me sleepy.

I opened my fist to show myself the surprise I found. Nail scissors. Nice, I could use a pair of those. I studied my damaged nails for a moment, then I opened the scissors and sliced into my wrists, over and over again, until the blood ran down my palms and off my fingers and onto the tiles, and made fluffy pink swirly clouds down the drain.

The last thing I remember was looking out across the floor from my usual bug's eye view, and seeing Fraidycat looking back at me from under a chair. From somewhere I thought I heard Tiffi wailing inconsolably.

---

"Hey, baby girl, how are you today? I-I brought you some more flowers... I didn't know what else to bring..." Silence for a while. "Sure been havin' nice weather at home... th' winter wheat's sproutin' real good... be a decent crop 'f it keeps up, better'n last year, anyways..." More idle farming talk, homey, comforting, seeping into my warm darkness.

The voice was familiar, deep and raspy. Husky now, with emotion. "D-daddy?" It hurt my throat to talk, my voice was a hoarse whisper. It hurt in a lot of places, it hurt to breathe, but the pain was distant, like it was locked in the cellar, scratching to be let out. "I-I can't see..." I tried to raise my hands to my eyes, but for some reason they felt heavy, unresponsive. I began to thrash a little, but I couldn't seem to work up the energy for more than a halfhearted panic.

"Steffi! Oh, lord, you're awake, welcome back, sweetheart. We've been so worried about you." Large, calloused hands wrapped gently around my hands, holding them down. "Shush now, baby girl, easy, you'll hurt yourself some more. It's just nighttime, is all, there's no lights on. Shush, and I'll get the nurse." The concern and relief in his voice was unmistakable, and I felt a reflexive guilt for somehow being responsible.

"I'm sorry, Daddy, I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." The darkness wrapped itself around me again, and dragged me back down.

When I woke again, it was to the sound of a chainsaw battling a brass band; it sounded strangely familiar and comforting, and I lay there for awhile, eyes closed, just letting it wash over me. "Daddy... y' snoring again...go t'bed." I smiled as I said it, an old family ritual. My throat was still hoarse, I could only whisper; but the chainsaw skirmished briefly with a tuba, then called a truce.

"Hmmph? Mmph! Oh, awake again, baby girl. How're ya feeling?"

"Hurts..." I opened my eyes, turning towards his voice. The room was lighter now, but not a lot; the sun was low in the sky, casting long shadows through the blinds. He was sprawled uncomfortably over a chair in the corner of the room. Climbing stiffly to his feet, he paused to stretch the kinks out of his back, and came over to press the call button for the nurse. His smile was gentle, but didn't reach the worry in his eyes. "You were in rough shape, honey. D'you recall what happened?"

I nodded uncertainly, "I-I think so. Jake..." My face clouded up and my lip was trembling.

He shook his head quickly, and took my bandaged hands in his, squeezing them gently. "Hush now, girl, it's over now, it's over." His voice was soothing, earnest. "You're safe, here. 'Sides, the police have him, they want to send somebody to talk to you. But we won't let them till you're ready," he hastily assured me.

Just then the nurse breezed in. "Finally, the sleeper awakes! The airport called, seems they're trying to land jumbo jets and could we please keep the noise down." She winked at me. "Oh, look, the patient's awake, too." I grinned weakly back. "Let's get you cleaned up before the doctor comes in."

She chased my father out and drew the privacy curtain, then pulled back the covers and helped me sit up enough to remove my gown, and was proceeding to give me an efficient sponge bath. It felt good in an impersonal way, thankfully there was nothing remotely erotic about it.

I took stock of my injuries as the nurse washed carefully around them. Both my arms were bandaged from mid-forearm to the palms of my hands, probably splinted; I couldn't bend my wrists, and my fingers felt swollen and clumsy. There was an IV needle in my arm, I had a large bandage under my right breast, and my whole right side was a big purplish-black bruise. The bruise Jake had made on my left breast was the same color.

It hurt to move, especially to breathe, but I could feel that the worst of the pain was still being kept away, still locked in the cellar, although it was starting to howl and pound on the door, and seep out around the edges.

My eyes were complaining about the brightness in the room, although the sun was barely up; my head was pounding. The right side of my face felt like a single massive bruise, my eye almost swollen shut; and it felt like a fat lip on that side. My left eye was sore too, when I blinked, but nothing like the right. I realized I was breathing through my mouth, my nose was swollen and stuffed up.

The doctor strode briskly into the room just as the nurse had finished helping me into a new gown, adjusting the bed to leave me sitting up. He was middle-aged, a little paunchy, with a touch of grey at the temples I suspected was carefully cultivated to make him look distinguished. It just made him look carefully cultivated. He had my chart in his hand, and he clicked his pen and started to scribble, barely looking at me. "How are we feeling? How's Sleeping Beauty?"

Sleeping, maybe. Not beauty. "F-fine, I guess. How long was I asleep?"

Apparently annoyed that he was unable to fulfill his doctorly obligations without touching the patient, he resigned himself to actual patient contact. Pulling on a pair of latex gloves, he began prodding me along my right side. "How does that feel?"

Apparently satisfied by my stifled scream, he took a penlight and shone it into each eye, making some more scribbles on my chart, before answering my question. "You were brought in early Saturday, sometime around 2 AM. Today's Tuesday." I've lost three days.

He began probing the back of my head, discovering a goose egg I had somehow missed in my initial inventory. I yelped and flinched for him, just to make him feel like a real health care professional, and he nodded in satisfaction and scribbled appropriately.

I just sat overwhelmed, as he pinched and prodded my fingertips, and listened to my chest and back. I did remember to wince for him at the coldness of his stethoscope, it seemed to make him happy. "W-what all's wrong with me?" I asked, weakly.

There must have been something in my tone that appealed to the human being in the doctor suit; he put down the clipboard, and spoke directly to me. "First of all, nothing permanent. You'll be sore for a while, but in a couple or three months, you'll be good as new. You do have a lot of healing to do." He lifted the chart, flipping through it for reference.

"From top to bottom, you took a pretty good knock to the noggin -- you have a fractured skull, and a pretty serious concussion. You have a fractured cheekbone, and a broken nose; a lot of nasty bruising, but no lasting damage; the swelling should go down in a few more days, and once it all heals you'll be as pretty as ever.

"You have a really vicious bruise on your left breast that looks deliberate, the finger marks are obvious. We took photos for the police. On the right side, two broken ribs, one of which punctured your lung; that's why your throat is sore, we had you on a ventilator for a while. We're looking at maybe six weeks for the ribs to heal."

He gave me a severe look, and tapped the chart with his pen. "And that brings us to the fact that you did attempt suicide. Those wrists gave us a scare. You made a bloody mess, but you were very lucky; you passed out from your other injuries before you could do any real harm, the actual damage was minimal. We'll probably unsplint you in a week or so. You'll have some stitches, though." He sighed. "We want to be sure you won't try to hurt yourself again, and maybe do a better job of it, before we let you go home."

I nodded glumly.

"I know you must be hurting, but we're gonna switch you off the heavy-duty IV painkillers over the next day or two, so enjoy them while they last. Ribs, well, we can't bind 'em, and if we numb 'em too much, you're liable to do something you shouldn't, and injure them again. So they're gonna be uncomfortable. I know it hurts to breathe, but you have to remember to take deep breaths, even if it hurts. If you don't, you run the risk of getting pneumonia, and you don't want that kind of a cough, with those ribs."

"Oh. Great." I felt like crying.

He gestured with his pen towards my head. "I know the light's bothering your eyes, that's the concussion talking. We'll keep the room dark for a couple days, it'll pass. You'll be headachy for a while, though, could be a few weeks, on and off. Pain meds will help with that. If you get any dizzy spells, close your eyes and take deep breaths -- it might hurt your ribs, but not near as much as being sick will. Let a nurse know if they happen more than once or twice a day, or if they get too bad, and we'll prescribe something for motion sickness."

He made a last notation on the chart. "How's your appetite? Think you might be able to eat something?"

I realized I was ravenous. "Maybe."

He smiled, "Good. That's always a positive sign." He turned and left me to my thoughts.

A month at least, maybe two. I knew the hospital wouldn't keep me that long; as soon as they were satisfied I was stable, I'd be out the door. A week or two, maybe. Where could I go?

Daddy would want me to come home with him, but I couldn't leave Tiffi alone. Why does that bother you? You were going to leave her alone anyway. I shook my head, denying the thought; I'd been out of my head. Still, it scared me that at least a part of me had thought it was a good idea.

I closed my eyes and sank back into the pillows. I felt drained and sore, overwhelmed, helpless. What a mess. Jake, you unutterable bastard.

It was as I was dwelling darkly on Jake that something landed out of nowhere on my chest. I screamed in terror and thrashed to get away from my attacker. My ribs sent waves of agony down my side and across my chest as I fell out of the bed onto my injured side, knocking the IV stand to the floor and tearing the needle from my arm, unable to use my hands to break the fall. The nurses arrived at a dead run as I scrabbled frantically to try and squeeze under the bed in a blind panic, cowering and whimpering hysterically, "No... no... nonono..." It took two orderlies to pin down my leg long enough for a nurse to stick a needle into me, and then everything went kind of rubbery.

The last thing I remember was looking out across the floor from my usual bug's eye view, and seeing Fraidycat looking back at me from under a chair. From somewhere I thought I heard Tiffi wailing inconsolably.

When I awoke again the room was in semidarkness. My head felt fuzzy, like I couldn't seem to wake all the way up. There was no pain at all -- I knew where it was, but it couldn't quite catch my attention. The little TV over the bed was on, tuned to a football game, the sound off; the flickering images cast an island of light and shifting shadows in the dark room, like a campfire in the wilderness.

I must have made some kind of sound, because instantly Daddy was there, stroking my head, speaking softly. "Welcome back, sweetheart. How's my girl?"

"'M okay..." My throat was sore again, my voice barely recognizable. Daddy put a straw in my mouth, I sucked in a little cool water, felt it soothe it's way down. "Can't feel... 'm sorry Daddy..." I knew I was feeling tremendous guilt over causing my father so much worry, but all I had was a kind of place holder for where the guilt should be, with a string running from that to the dark space under the bottom of the cellar door. "'m s-sorry..."

"Hush now, baby girl, don't talk like that. It's not your fault. None of this is. We just want you to get better. Tiffi's just a mess about it. The doctor gave her some pills, Bridget came to take her back home to Uncle Brian's. A simple accident, is all it was."

"Tiffi... did this? Where is she?"

"Shush baby, she's okay. The doctor gave her some pills to make her sleep. You can see her in the morning."

"Tiffi hurt me, Daddy." I was the six-year-old tattletale, confidently expecting perfect justice to descend and smite my sister. "Tiffi hurts me sometimes."

"Oh, baby girl," his voice was choked as he kissed me gently on the forehead. "Tiffi is so, so, sorry." But I was already asleep again.

In the morning I woke, still muzzy, but I retained enough presence of mind to wake Daddy and send him off to sleep in a real bed. Somebody had to look after him, that was our job, Tiffi's and mine. He promised to be back later in the day, with Tiffi. I drowsed a bit, until the nurse came in and began doing her nursely duties, which were mostly cold and impersonal and much too intimate. Especially cold. And intimate.

I managed to get the nurse to explain what had happened.

"Your sister -- you're twins, aren't you? She's such a pretty young woman -- oh, you'll be pretty again too, just give it time -- anyway, what was I saying? Oh, yes, your sister came to visit you -- she had a stuffed animal with her she said was your favorite -- so when she gets to the door, she thought she'd just toss it onto the bed with you, as a little surprise. I guess you know the rest, poor thing." She placed a sympathetic hand on my shoulder.

"Fraidycat?" I looked to the bedside table, and as well as I was able, around the room. "Where's my Fraidycat?" The nurse couldn't seem to find him either, until I remembered where I'd seen him. I pointed. "S' under the chair." Having been properly searched and rescued, Fraidycat was airlifted to safety, which turned out to be my left shoulder, where I could at least cuddle him against my cheek. Which I promptly did, and dozed off again.

Mid-afternoon, the doctor came in and conducted another examination of my ribs. Fortunately the painkillers made it bearable, although I tried to make appropriate suffering noises so he wouldn't be too disappointed. He made some stern-sounding scribbles on my chart. "Well, it could have been worse. Nothing new broken, thank goodness, although those ribs took another beating, you'll feel that."

Oh, terrific. I nodded unhappily. "W-will it happen again?"

He sighed, and the doctor shell cracked open to let the human peek out. "You've had an awful, horrific experience. I can't imagine what it must have been like. Some kind of delayed reaction is perfectly normal." He peered at me over his bifocals. "Of course, that particular reaction caught us all by surprise." I managed a weak smile.

He stood to go. "Anyway, for the moment, I've prescribed something that should keep your emotions at arm's length. How is it working?"

I made a face, although with the condition of my face, maybe he couldn't tell. "S'not just my emotions, it's my whole me. Feels like I'm thinkin' at half-speed. " I shook my head. "I don't like it."

He nodded. "It'll wear off by the morning, and Dr. Ruiz will be stopping by, to talk to you about your experience, help you find ways to deal with it. She's nice, you'll like her." He pointed his pen at my wrists. "She'll want to talk about that, too." Oh, great, a shrink. Wait'll she gets a load of my delusions.

Dinner was completely mortifying: My hands were swollen and shaky, and I couldn't manage to grip my spoon. So of course I couldn't feed myself. So I had to be spoonfed, like a baby. Which wasn't humiliating enough, it had to be a candy-striper. Worse than that, it had to be somebody I knew.

"Oh. My. God. Steffi? Tiffi? What happened?"

I cringed when I recognized the voice. "Hey, Cindy, 'm Steffi," I sighed. Cindy was one of the cheerleaders we met at the tryouts, one of Tiffi's new friends. "'S that m' dinner? 'M really hungry."

If I thought I'd distract her, I was sadly mistaken. "But, what happened?."

I opened up my mouth, like a baby bird, hoping she'd get the hint.

She spooned me a mouthful of something bland. "But, oh my god, Steffi! What happened?" Relentless like a pit bull with lipstick, was Cindy.

I was tempted to spin her a story, but I barely had the mental energy to deal with reality, let alone make something up. "Mmmph" I tried to taste what she was feeding me, but as far as I could tell the flavor had been removed. It might have been children's paste. "'M sorry hon, I really don' wanna talk about it, okay? Let's talk about somethin' else. Did you make the cut?"

Cindy pouted, but was somewhat mollified having a captive audience for her gossip. It turned out she had made the cut, and was happy to chat about this year's cheer team, and the routines they had to learn, and the football team's chances, and who was dating who, all from attending one single practice. Eventually I discovered I'd finished my baby food, and I realized how much I'd been enjoying her company.

"Cindi? 'M really glad y' were here. Thanks."

She smiled broadly, clearly pleased. "Oh, I'm happy to help out. Maybe I can come tomorrow? I can bring some magazines, or we can just chat again?" She looked around to make sure she wouldn't be overheard, and then whispered conspiratorially, "Otherwise they make me work."

I smiled. "I'd like that." She gave me a little wave and left with the tray, and I closed my eyes and lay back, tired from just eating dinner. About fifteen seconds later, Cindi's voice came down the hall, "Tiffi? Oh. My. God. What happened?" and I completely lost it to the giggles.

Tiff found me clutching my ribs and gasping for air. She seemed drained, with dark circles under puffy eyes, from lack of sleep. The terrified look on her face as I struggled for breath was like a bucket of cold water, sobering me instantly. "M'okay Tiff, really. I hear you met Cindi." The giggles attempted to break out again, but I gave them a stern look and they backed down.

Tiffi breathed a huge sigh of relief then attempted to gave me a glare, which was spoiled by her inability to keep the grin off her face. "Don't do that to me! You scared me half to death!"

Her tone was light, but at her words the rest of the giggles popped like soap bubbles. "Aw, Tiff, 'm sorry. I've been doing that a lot, lately."

"Now you stop that!" she scolded me. "This isn't your fault! You just shut up and get better!" She sat on the side of the bed, on my left, my good side. Well, my less-bad side. "Now, scooch over just a little."

I scooched as best I could, and Tiffi lay down carefully beside me, trying not to crowd me too much. My bandaged arm lay between us awkwardly, and I lifted it so she could snuggle into my shoulder. It started to throb almost immediately, but it was a tradeoff I gladly accepted; and the pain meds helped. Tiff put her arm gently across my chest to my shoulder, and gave me a very tiny squeeze. "I thought you might need a hug." she whispered.

I did, badly, and of course she knew it, and I knew she needed one too. I nestled my cheek against her head, which was the best I could manage. For a few minutes, we just lay there, not needing to speak, content in the knowledge that each of us was there for the other. Then Tiffi whispered in a Cindi-like voice, "Oh. My. God. What happened?" and the giggles came and snuck past our defenses, and had their way with us, until I had to sit up and clutch my ribs again, fighting to breathe through the laughter. It hurt like hell, but it was worth every second, and I lay back down feeling lighter than I had in long, long time.

Tiffi took advantage of my sitting up to shift her position, so now I snuggled into her shoulder.

"Daddy was still asleep at Uncle Brian's, he really needed it, so I wrote him a note and took a cab. Bridget sends her love, by the way."

I blinked. "Oh, damn. Poor Bridget. The wedding! What's she gonna do?"

Tiff gave me a squeeze. "Well, after Jake -- wait, you don't know that part, either. Let me start at the beginning." She shifted a little to get comfortable, and adopted a prim, storytelling voice. "Are we ready? Well then, in the beginning, there were two baby girls, identical twins. Tiffy was the much older and wiser of the two, and everyone said she was more beautiful, as well..."

I raised my bandaged arm, threateningly. "Do not make me club you, because I so will."

Tiffi grinned, and then settled into a more serious tone. "After you left for work" -- she put a finger to my lips to shush me as I was about to interrupt -- "shhh, baby sis, I am so sorry about hurting you. We do need to talk about it, but let me finish this. Anyway. I got ready for work and came in about half an hour late. I was working the front room, and when I could, I looked in on you, to see how you were doing. Sweetie, you looked awful, I felt so bad... I wanted to tell you to go home, but you were so mad at me, I didn't think you'd listen. Sometime after midnight, I guess, I lost track of you. I didn't think much of it, we were extra busy for a bit, and then Stella asked me if you'd gone home; she said she'd sent you to take break in the office, but you weren't there. And it didn't help that I found your purse and overnight stuff still in the office.

"That got me worried, and the first place I checked was the back alley, but you weren't there. I didn't know what to do, nobody else thought much of it. Stella was a little annoyed, but she figured you'd gone out for some fresh air, or something, and then it was last call, and we were rushed again. Of course, nobody else knew what I knew, either. I didn't even know Jake had been in the bar, until Bridget remarked that he'd ordered a beer, and hadn't come back to drink it.

"The alarm bells went off, then. I had to tell Bridget that I suspected Jake had done something awful, and she got snippy with me, saying that you and he had probably just gone off to be alone. I was worried about that, too, but not the same way. She was upset because I was trying to ruin her wedding. We had a tiny scene, then...

"Everybody thought I was crazy. I went looking, but sweetie, I never expected to find you, I thought Jake had taken you. I walked back to the dorm -- that late, it wasn't smart to be out on the street alone, but nobody else would come -- and you weren't there. I walked back a different way, calling your name, but there was no sign of you anywhere. I didn't know what to do, I was frantic; I called the police, but you'd only been gone a couple of hours by that time, and it was a college town on a Friday night, and I guess they were used to strange behavior. I couldn't get them to do anything.

"There was no way I was going to stay over at Bridget's with you missing, especially after the attitude she was giving me, so I took our stuff and grabbed a cab back to the dorm. They were just loading you into the ambulance." Her voice was choked, "Oh, Steff, I was sure you were dead... and the last words we said to each other kept going through my mind, and I was terrified those were the last words we'd ever have a chance to say..."

I craned my neck to give her a reassuring kiss on her cheek, and tasted her tears. "I'm so glad they weren't... what I said was horrible, I didn't mean it, I swear --" She shushed me with her finger on my lips again. "Shhh, we can talk about it later. Let me finish before I lose it completely.

"I rode with you to the hospital. Now I had the policeman's attention, so I told them about Jake -- but I had no idea what is last name was, or where he lived, or anything. So they had to get Bridget out of bed, and when she found out why, she came straight to the hospital with Uncle Brian. By that time you were in surgery."

She drew a shaky breath. "I had to call Daddy, too. God, that was hard..." There was a long pause before she could continue. "By the time you were out of surgery, the police had found Jake -- and his face had some very nasty scratches. That was you?" I nodded, and she gave me a careful squeeze, a grim tone in her voice. "You do good work. But, nobody had seen him hurt you, nobody could even say they'd seen the two of you together that night-- and you weren't talking, so the evidence was circumstantial. I promised I'd call when you woke up -- and I did, I called them this morning, so they're sending a detective to talk to you."

She stopped and stole a sip from the water cup on my bedside stand, before holding it for me to take a drink. "Anyway, Jake's been arrested, but they might not have enough to prosecute, without your testimony. Bridget is beside herself, worrying about you, but needless to say, her wedding plans are a mess. She's furious at Tony for having such an asshole for a friend."

I growled my agreement with that sentiment. "Maybe... it would be best if the wedding didn't happen? You know what she's headed for."

I felt her shrug. "From what you told me of the spell, who knows? Maybe it would just kick in with the next guy -- and the spell said this one would love her and be a good provider, at least. If she's going to spend the next twenty-five years or so raising eight kids, that has to count for something."

I nodded unhappily, there was really no good answer. "So what's she going to do? Postpone it?"

Tiff shook her head, her voice was cautious. "Well, she wants to go ahead, but with a smaller wedding party, just a maid of honor and a new best man... we figured you might not be up to it, so she's asked me to be her maid of honor -- is that okay with you? I told her I needed talk to you, first." She waited apprehensively for my response.

I laughed sharply, feeling the twinge in my ribs. "If that's what she wants, I'm fine with it, really. It's not like I'll be ready for the job any time soon. Besides, you're better at that stuff anyway." Bridget would be a nervous wreck, I didn't envy Tiff her job.

"Those bridesmaid's dresses were hideous. Maybe you could break a leg, too, or something." I suggested helpfully.

She giggled and swatted my arm. "Nasty girl," she scolded. "You know you can't escape the wedding that easily, Daddy will bring you in a wheelchair, if necessary. I could tell Bridge she can have another bridesmaid..."

I snorted. "Oh, nice. I'm not in enough pain, I have to wear the dress, too?"

We both giggled, happy to have each other back again. "You know I'll wear the dress for Bridge." I whispered drowsily.

Her tone was smug. "I know. I already told her you would."

"I am so telling Daddy t' push my wheelchair over your toes." I muttered.

I had very nearly drifted off, when I remembered something important. "Oh. Tom... c-can I call him out?"

Tiffi's voice was relieved. "Would you? I-I know you were mad at him, so I wasn't going to ask... but I'd really like to talk to him, too. I brought a notepad with me, just in case."

"Tell him... 'm not mad an' I'll talk with him soon. Tiffany, r'member." I mumbled, and snuggled into my big sister's shoulder, and fell unconscious.

When the nurse woke me the next morning -- being an invalid has much stricter hours than I'd imagined -- my brain felt like it was firing on all cylinders again, and my ribs were killing me. I guessed my meds had worn off. The nurse presented me with a couple of pills that seemed much too small for the task, and helped me swallow them, but I knew they'd take a while to kick in.

I found Fraidycat standing guard on my pillow, a sheet from Tiffi's notepad folded up and stuck in his collar. Eventually my clumsy paws were able to unfold it:

Gone to home to sleep, cuz you snore! Be back tonight. Tom says hi. Going to sub for Bridget at the bar this afternoon so Bridezilla can visit you. (EAT THIS NOTE!!!!) Stay out of trouble! Love ya, baby sis -- Tiff.

I gave Fraidycat an extra-big hug for being such a good messenger.

When my breakfast tray eventually arrived, it was accompanied by a police detective, which I thought a bit extreme, even for hospital food. She was a middle-aged woman, with a no-nonsense attitude.

"Miss Burke? I'm Detective Cerone. I was hoping we could talk about what happened to you."

I nodded to the detective and tried to speak around a mouthful of toast. "Of course."

"How about we start with when you met Jake Karides?"

I wish I'd had time to think about this moment, about the answers to these questions, how to not sound like a complete slut without seeming evasive. "That was this past Thursday night. I'd never met him before then."

I told her what happened, on Thursday and then on Friday, and tried to put it in the best light I could. I knew I'd done nothing that deserved being beaten up, but I sure didn't want anything to confuse the issue. Recounting the details was much harder than I expected; I couldn't tell the story without feeling like I was reliving it, a little, and the emotions flooded over me again. I was crying hard by the time I was done, and I wished I had Tiffi with me for support.

Detective Cerone flipped her notepad shut, and gave me a sympathetic look. "I know it can be hard to think about it again, so soon. But I think we have enough to charge him now."

I nodded wordlessly, and she passed me the box of tissues on the bedside table, and left her card in its place. "Call us if there's anything else that comes to mind." She gave me a brief smile and left.

The rest of the morning passed in an uncomfortable drowse, I was perpetually tired but couldn't seem to rest. The pain meds were valiant, but they were certainly no opiates; the cellar door was wide open and the pain was creeping up the stairs; they were fighting a pitched battle, but giving up a step at a time. Fortunately lunchtime brought distraction in the form of, well, lunch. And reinforcements, in the form of another couple of inadequate-looking pills.

My postprandial snooze was a little better, the pain had retreated a bit and the pills were doing crafts and facepainting and little shadow-puppet shows on the cellar steps to keep it distracted. I woke to a hand gently shaking my shoulder.

"Mmmph. Tiff? What are you doing here? I thought Bridezilla was coming." I asked drowsily.

Tiffi had a terrified expression on her face, but her posture was oddly relaxed. "I'm sorry, Steff. He saw me at the bar. He made me bring him here. I had to do it," she whispered.

A cold chill ran down my spine, and any thought of sleepiness vanished. "Oh, shit." My eyes shot to the doorway, and my heart threatened to explode. My feet scrabbled against the bed, galvanized, in a futile attempt to push me farther away.

Jacobi was standing in the doorway, one hand in his pocket.

In the other, he had Tiffi's disk.

The Artifacts of K'Panu, Part 5

I let my breath out slowly, matching what I was seeing with what my new self knew. I was tall -- five-ten in bare feet -- and built like, well, a stripper. 36DD, 24, 36, and all real. My legs were long, muscular and sleek, narrow waist emphasizing the swell of my hips and butt. I looked and felt every bit as athletic and limber as the old Steffi had been, but I'd sure jiggle a lot more when I ran. My nipples each sported a small silver hoop, with a single jeweled bead. I flicked one tentatively, and gasped at the sensation.

---

"And now, gentlemen, Tassels is pleased to present, the sexy lady we've all been waiting for, please put your hands together for Miss Stephanie Stardust!"

The hooting and applause rose to drown out the introduction as the first of my songs came up; I smiled brightly out across the crowded room as I stepped into view, not afraid to make eye contact, bold, challenging. I know you want me, but you can't have me. But maybe I'll let you watch.

The sexy navy officer's uniform was a real crowd-pleaser: tailored navy jacket with brass buttons and gold stripes on the sleeve, reaching to the top of my thighs, four-inch stiletto heels, my hair tucked into a peaked white officer's cap perched jauntily over one eye.

The cap was the first to go, lifting it high over my head to let my fiery-red hair spill down my back in a tousled wave as I strutted to the front of the stage, hips rolling, working the applause. I was having a ball, and it showed, and they loved it.

The guys crowded next to the stage were the big tippers, and I began to work them with practiced ease, looking for the lively ones and encouraging them, swiveling down onto my heels to let this one tuck a folded bill into my garter, licking my lips and blowing a kiss to that shy one, winking slyly and undoing a brass button for another.

Towards the end of the song, I'd run out of buttons to undo, and I left the jacket hanging open, teasing, until finally as the song came to an end I tore off the jacket and whirled it over my head to loud cheers and whistles, showing off my red, white, and blue micro-bikini top and g-string. I had them in the palm of my hand, and they were loving it, and I was loving them loving it.

For the next song I worked the stage, showing off my body, bending straight-kneed to touch my ankles then waving between my legs to encourage at some blushing young man in the front row, looking over my shoulder with a sexy pout and wiggling my ass for another, pressing my tits together delightedly like I'd just discovered touching them, all the while laughing and grinning and grinding my hips, and hooting right back at the crowd. Partway through the song I began to remove my bikini top, untying the back and holding in place with one hand, offering tantalizing glimpses of what was to come. At the end of the song, the top came off to catcalls and whistles, and general enthusiastic applause, and I paraded around the edge of the stage, shimmying.

The third song was slower, and I bent and stretched to show off my lithe body, sliding down into the splits and moving gracefully into suggestive poses, smiling archy and lifting my breasts to flick the nipple rings, making half-lidded 'Oooh' faces as the nipples crinkled and firmed into hardness. By the end of the set I had them crowding the stage to slip money into my garter, or for the bolder ones, the side of my g-string. I left the stage blowing kisses and waving to the applause.

That was my last set; I went back to the dressing room and changed, then counted my tips. It had been a very good night. I spotted Tiffany dancing for a rowdy group of college boys; I waved to her and pointed to indicate I was heading upstairs.

I handed the tip money over to Cliff, the night manager, to be split amongst the staff. I didn't need it, I owned the club.

~o~O~o~
I woke slowly, reluctantly, content to lie in bed and sleep in. Eventually I gave up trying to fall back asleep and stretched luxuriously, reveling in the freedom from pain, running my toes along the leg of the man lying next to me, my breath catching slightly as my fingers slipped between my legs, stroking myself to warm pleasurable wetness.

Freedom from pain? Why would there be pain?

I shook off the stray thought and ran my hand across his smooth chest, sliding it beneath the covers and grasping his cock gently, stroking it to hardness before straddling him and impaling myself deliciously on his shaft.

My belly tightened as I clamped down, sliding along his cock, slowly increasing in intensity, breasts bouncing as I pick up speed. The man writhed under me, eyes squeezed tight as he fought to postpone his orgasm, to maintain his erection even as I tried to steal it from him. Eventually my back arched and a small cry escaped my lips as the familiar intensity quickly overwhelmed me. I finally rolled off his still-erect penis, satiated, heart pounding, gasping like I've run a hundred-meter sprint.

When I could manage, I kissed him on the forehead and whispered, "Good boy," then staggered on still-weak knees to the shower, pinning up my hair to keep it dry, and calling to Tiffany to give the man release, and then to untie him and get him out.

The shower was invigorating, one of those Euro-style multi-level spray things, worth every penny I paid for it. Roomy, too -- I briefly considered calling Tiffi in, but decided it wouldn't do to show too much favoritism in front of the others.

Others?

I stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around myself and unpinning my hair, shaking it free and letting it tumble across my shoulders, soft waves falling down my back and across my breasts.

Finally, I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror, and with a rush, I remembered. I staggered back blindly, until I found the edge of the sunken tub, then sat, staring blankly into space.

Jacobi stood in the doorway, one hand in his pocket, Tiffi's disk in his hand. Tiffi was calm, frozen, in the power of the disk; I was pushing myself as far up the bed as I could, heedless of the pain. The sight of Tiffi's disk made me uncomfortable, I wanted to look away, to getaway, but Jacobi blocked the only door. Finally, as if in slow motion, he withdrew his hand from his pocket, and I felt a calm lethargy come over me, and I became still, my eyes fixed on the strange double glow in the depths of my own disk. A part of me was still frantic to look away, to avoid looking at the disk; but that part was easily overwhelmed by the disk's influence.

Jacobi stepped inside and stood at the foot of the bed. His voice was low. "This isn't working out the way I'd hoped, and I apologize. Jake was... much, much worse than I ever expected. This is my fault. It could have been interesting, too -- if he hadn't been such a despicable son of a bitch. Oh, well, we learn as we go.

"I've been thinking about the rules of the magic... it's all about connections. Anything that requires too many changes to reality, changes too many connections between you and the rest of the world, damages and weakens the disks, brings them closer to the time that they fail, like Isabella's did. Fame -- everyone needs to know you, that's too many memories to adjust, too many connections. Influence, political power -- same thing. Wealth -- money needs to come from somewhere, it has to be earned or acquired. It has a paper trail, the magic has to rationalize it all. So, it's very hard.

"Anyway, I think I can make this up to you, and maybe use the magic to do some good work, too. I'm not totally without a conscience." He grinned, and I shivered. "Corrupted a little, maybe, but not completely without redeeming features. And if I can benefit indirectly, well that's nice too." He frowned. "The rules are very clear, the disks cannot be used for personal gain. I think the disks were a means for the priesthood to bestow reward or punishment from K'Panu. The rules were intended to prevent the priests from becoming corrupt -- well," he chuckled darkly, " from becoming too corrupt. But they had a few hundred years to figure it out; I suspect one day they simply went too far, and K'Panu got pissed and wiped them all off the map." He shuddered. "I definitely do not want to piss him off... So. My options are limited. The disks are locked on you two, that can't change unless I lose the disks. I can't benefit directly. So," he shrugged. "We play, until I can learn more and come up with a better idea."

He straightened, and held the disks in his open palms. "To business -- oh, but you won't remember anything past this point." He grinned again. "I want it to be a surprise."

Yeah. Surprise, all right. I tried a mental self-test, tentatively probing my memories. Stephen? Still there, check. Steffi Burke? Check. Who am I now? Stephanie Laurent. Mrs. Stephanie Laurent, widow. Nathan died just over two years ago, and... I still miss him. I'm 29, the party was last month. And I'm a stripper, stage name Stephanie Stardust. Exotic dancer. Which paid for a Master's degree in Business Administration, thank you very much. A very rich one, thanks to Nate; I have my own strip club, and then some. I put aside the memories for now, took a deep breath, and stood to face my new self in the mirror.

Simon Jacobi, you are one horny fuck. I let my breath out slowly, matching what I was seeing with what my new self knew. I was tall -- five-ten in bare feet -- and built like, well, a stripper. 36DD, 24, 36, and all real. My legs were long, muscular and sleek, narrow waist emphasizing the swell of my hips and butt. I looked and felt every bit as athletic and limber as the old Steffi had been, but I'd sure jiggle a lot more when I ran. My nipples each sported a small silver hoop, with a single jeweled bead. I flicked one tentatively, and gasped at the sensation. Save it for later.

Even with the new chest, my hair would be the first thing anyone noticed -- it was a fiery, shimmering red, that draped across my generous breasts and flowed in soft curls down to the small of my back. I couldn't tell if the colour was natural because the carpet didn't match the drapes; I had no carpet. Electrolysis. Hurt like hell, but it was worth it. And yes, the colour's natural.

My eyes were shimmering green over prominent cheekbones, my lips full and expressive, with a slightly cruel twist. A face with a seductive, challenging expression, enough to make any man crave my attention, and worry that he might not survive it. Women, too.

"Tiffany! Come in here, please." My eyes widened, the voice I heard was dark and sultry, and incredibly erotic, like aural sex.

"Yes, mistress?" Mistress? Oh, well of course I'm a dominatrix. Thank you, Simon Jacobi. Tiffi's voice was light and bubbly; she spoke with a natural soft lisp that hinted at little-girl without being a caricature, her form was small, but very much a woman's.

"Is he gone?"

"Yes, mistress."

Well, we're not twins any more. The thought carried a sense of loss.

Tiff was as naked as I was; she was tiny, smaller even than the old Tiff, maybe five foot even. I knew she was a good deal younger than me. Twenty-two. Her full lips were slightly parted, showing a very slight overbite, and the effect was enchanting and completely natural. Her hair was tousled blonde, spilling across her shoulders. Of course her eyes were china-doll blue, and just a little larger than seemed fair, with long delicate dark lashes. Her breasts were high and full, and if I hadn't just seen my own reflection, I might have been jealous. Her figure was fit and trim, with a dancer's long legs, but soft, without her former athlete's muscles. Her nipple rings matched my own, except in gold.

She had stringy thread of cum on her chin. "Missed a spot." I wiped it off with my thumb and let her suck it clean. I did this and she accepted this so naturally, I got shivers.

"Thank you mistress."

Somehow I knew that she wouldn't remember unless I told her to. I grasped her shoulders and gently directed her to stand in front of me, facing the mirror. "Tiffany, remember."

Her eyes widened just a little, and she was silent a long time. Finally she breathed, "Fuck you, Simon Jacobi."

I pulled my dressing gown off the back of the bathroom door, and threw it on, not bothering to tie it as I led her dazedly back into the bedroom. It was a large room, with an entertainment console and living area at one end; I flopped on the couch and she climbed into my lap to cuddle, and I let her, without conscious thought.

"So, talk to me. Talking about what we know might help settle the new memories." I was still thinking, reacting as Steffi Burke, and I figured Tiffi was, too. I had a horrible thought. "Wait -- is Tom in there?"

Tiffi thought about it for a moment, then nodded. "He's here, there's no separation between us any more. I have his memories, as well as the old Tiffi's. Plus the new ones, such as they are," she added sourly.

"So, who's the new Tiffi?" I prodded.

"I came in looking for a job about a year ago. My ID said I was Tiffany Dupree from Des Moines, and I don't remember anything before that, at all. Probably because there is nothing before that, I bet the magic's cutting corners. No family, no missing persons report. Probably was a stripper before, though, because that's one thing I knew how to do well. I dance here, now."

She took a breath. "I was in love with you from the start, I was delighted when you let me become one of your girls. Over the past year I've become increasingly submissive, dependant on others to direct me, control me. To be fair, you tried to help, to get me to take some control back, but none of it helped; basically, I've become your pet. Your happy little bimbo fucktoy pet. And God damn Jacobi, I love it, I love you, mistress. I know he made me this way, and I can't even feel angry. You can't imagine how good it feels just to sit here with you."

I had automatically wrapped my arms around her when she crawled up, and was stroking her hair, like petting a kitten. "My memory says there's more?"

She sighed. "Jacobi really must have been pissed at me. Mentally, it's hard to think, to string two thoughts together. I can do it, but I can't hold it for long, it's just easier not to try. I know should be screaming at what he's done to me, but I can't seem to feel anger, or even sadness.

"I can't read or write, mistress, not even with the old memories. And... I can't go outside, without company. I get anxious if I'm alone, out there. Frantic."

I could feel her becoming agitated just thinking about it. "Shush, Tiffi," I soothed, and held her close until she calmed. I kissed her on the top of the head, and frowned. "You're sucking your thumb."

She blushed, very beautifully, and popped the thumb out long enough to answer. "I... like to suck... things," she lisped softly. "I mean... really like..."

I sighed and let her continue. Simon Jacobi, you have much to answer for. "Okay, my turn."

I closed my eyes and tried to focus on the new memories. "I was born Stephanie Alison Terante. Parents divorced, father left us when I was a kid, mother died while I was in college. I started exotic dancing to put myself through school. I was good at it, I enjoyed it, and it paid well; enough that I kept at it all the way to an MBA degree. I met Nathan Laurent when I was an undergraduate, we were married shortly before we started our grad degrees.

"Nate's specialty was market analytics, the ability to predict the financial and commodities markets, and he was brilliant. He went to work as a trader for one of the big brokerage houses, made his first million in commissions in eighteen months. Then he up and quit; he had his stake, now he wanted to put his talent to work for himself. And he did. He focused on market derivatives, that's basically betting on specific parts of the market, rather than on the rise or fall of a particular stock. He made his second million in three months, and he never looked back. I kept dancing, first to keep us fed, and later just because I could. Nate liked the idea of having a stripper for a wife, it was a turn-on for him. He'd come watch me strip, and pay me for private dances. He liked me to dance for him in front of other men, and I loved it." I smiled wistfully at the new-old memory.

"When we found out he had cancer, the doctors gave him six months. He became driven, desperate to increase his net wealth, to leave his legacy. He put everything we owned into the market, when investments paid off he'd just roll them into new ones. We were living on my income from dancing again -- despite the fact that on paper at least, he was a millionaire a dozen times over. I had to beg, plead, threaten him to make sure he went for his chemotherapy sessions.

"The chemo didn't cure him, of course, but it bought more time. He lasted another six months, and he worked almost all of it. His dying was... very hard." I had to stop a moment, struggling through the grief that suddenly came over me. I sniffled, and choked out a bitter laugh. "I know in my head he probably never even existed, and I still miss him so much..."

"In his will, he left detailed instructions for liquidating his investments, and moving the money into low-risk investments, managed by a small investment house according to his directions. It took awhile to liquidate everything, but it turned out he'd made about two hundred and fifty million dollars... and I'd have gladly traded it all just for another month with him.

"Anyway, one of his bequests was hefty annuities to various departments at the university, including Social Science -- some of that will eventually trickle down into increased Archeology grants, maybe better salaries, so there's Jacobi's indirect benefit. I contribute several millions to women's and children's charities every year, as well -- shelters, legal aid, health clinics, small business loans.

"So, Jacobi's found a way to use the magic to create wealth -- Nate made all his money sitting at a computer at home, gambling with numbers on a screen -- no employees, no shares in any companies, no businesses to own, no investors, no bank loans, hardly any paper trail. And with the charities, he is helping people, even if he does make us live his personal porno fantasies.

"Of course, the other thing I did with the money was to open my own club. I couldn't have cared less if it made money, I ran it for the dancers. I let the best dancers work here, the ones who genuinely love to dance for a room full of men. And son of a gun, it makes money hand over fist. Which I don't need, so I share it with the staff, on top of a health plan and retirement savings. Even some strippers are better off, thanks to Jacobi."

I rolled my eyes. "And of course, I seem to be a domme. Which reminds me, I suppose it's time to meet the rest of the family."

Tiffi climbed reluctantly off my lap and we left the bedroom, stepping into a wide hallway, with several other bedroom doors hanging open. At the end of the hall was an open living space, divided between a comfortable-looking living room and a dining area. Beyond the dining area was the kitchen, the source of some very delicious smells, produced by two women giggling and bustling about, dressed only in bib aprons. When they spotted my approach, they hurried to take the pans off the heat, and knelt facing me, welcoming smiles on their faces. Tiffi hurried to join them and knelt, also smiling. This was a routine they enjoyed. "Good morning mistress," they chorused.

I couldn't help but return the smiles. I finally got around to tying my robe, then ran my fingers through my new flaming hair, brushing it out of my face, and crossed my arms under my breasts, studying them. The new me was quite comfortable with the greeting, the old Tiffi was uncomfortable, but intrigued. I think Stephen was drooling, sigh. "Good morning, girls."

Lucia and Marielle weren't related, but looked enough alike from across the room they could have been sisters. Curly dark hair, big brown eyes, tan skin, and similar builds, graceful and athletic. Up close, Luci's features were strongly Hispanic, Marielle's showed a hint of Native American heritage. Both were very pretty. They were very nearly the same height, but still a couple of inches shorter than I was.

I stepped up to the first in the row, placing my hand under her chin. "Good morning, Lucia." She rose and gave me a very firm kiss and a hug. "Good morning mistress," she repeated. Her breast peeked out from behind her apron, and I could see it was also sporting a nipple ring. All my girls had nipple rings, I realized.

"Good morning, Luci's boob." I tucked it back behind her apron, and she giggled. "I smell bacon." She nodded. "Better get it back on the heat, then. I'm starving." She grinned and I patted her naked backside as she hurried back to the stove.

I stepped up to the next in line, reaching down to stroke her cheek. "Good morning Marielle." She rose and gave me an enthusiastic kiss and hug. "Morning, mistress."

I brushed the hair out of her eyes and smiled down into her face. "Go help your sister." She nodded and scampered back to the kitchen.

I took a deep breath and stood in front of Tiffany. She looked up at me, smiling, her big blue eyes showing no sign of uncertainty or doubt. "You don't have to do this..." I whispered, but she shook her head. "I want to do this. It feels right. It's what makes me happy, now," she lisped softly.

I smiled sadly and stroked her cheek. "Good morning, my sweet little Tiffi." She stood and I had to bend over to kiss her. She wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me hard, then put her lips to my ear as she hugged me, whispering, "I love you, mistress. Please don't be sad."

I kissed her again, tears in my eyes. "I love you too, baby," I whispered. "Go help your sisters." Tiffi smiled and hurried into the kitchen, shamelessly claiming affectionate kisses from her sisters.

"Good morning, Mari!"

"Good morning, Luci!"

"Good morning, Luci's boob!"

We all laughed at that one.

After breakfast I sent Lucia to get Tiffi dressed; the new me was aware that Tiffi was simply dysfunctional when presented with too many choices. Besides, the girls loved to dress her up like the dolly she seemed to be, and Tiffi loved the attention. As an incentive not to dawdle I told her she could help me choose an outfit, today. Choosing other people's outfits, that was easy. As women, neither Steffi nor Stephanie found that contradictory at all.

I waited for Tiff curled on the sofa with the morning paper and another cup of coffee, as Mari attended to the cleanup. Luci and Mari didn't dance at the club, instead they took care of all the household duties. I watched Mari over my paper as she puttered around the kitchen, the picture of domestic bliss.

Face it, she seems happy. They all seem happy. Even Tiff.

But they're not real. Tiff is real. Realer. I think.

Whatever. She's as real as her sisters. You can make the new Tiffi happy, or you can try to assuage your guilt with the old one, and neither of them will be happy. Then you won't be happy. Then none of them will be happy, because what they want most, is for you to be happy. And you won't be able to tell them why. And let's face it, you aced out, this time around -- unspeakably sexy, fabulously rich, surrounded by beautiful, sexy, submissive women that love you. If you can't be happy in Jacobi's little fantasy, you're broken.

But it's not fair to them!

Those girls are every bit as damaged as the old Steffi was. Did Jacobi create them, or did the magic just find them and put them here? You can't fix them, regardless. Do you honestly think they'd be better off out there? Here, they are safe, cared for, get the domination they crave, and they love you. And you love them right back.

I sighed. Yes, I do.

I was interrupted at that point by the return of Tiffi, dressed in skyscraper heels and a tight little cream minidress that said 'Sweet Thing' across the front, with a picture of a cupcake. I made her strike several poses, while I pretended to consider; it was clearly not made for a woman with Tiffi's curves, and seemed to be struggling to contain her. "I love it!" I enthused, and her face just lit up with her smile and she practically ran down the hall to my room -- not an easy feat in those heels. I smiled and gave a thumbs-up to Luci, who was watching from the kitchen, and her face lit up the same way as she turned to help Mari.

By the time I arrived in my room, Tiffi had it all laid out for me: a very short black leather miniskirt, and --

"Awww Tiffi, not another corset? What is it with you and corsets, anyway?" She giggled madly, knowing my protest was only token, in fact I owned a lot of corsets. I guess it came with the territory. More accurately, it came with Jacobi's fantasy world.

This corset was a green satin number that highlighted my eyes and accented my red hair. Tiffi was holding a matching green satin thong, waiting for me to step into it so she could slide it up my legs, determined to dress me, if I'd let her. I sighed, and let her. "It's going to be Das Boots, too, isn't it?" I pretended to mourn.

She giggled again. "Yes, mistress."

I stepped into the skirt and let her zip me up, then pulled the corset over my head, made sure it was comfortable, and straddled my dressing table chair so that she could tighten it. It was only a decorative corset, not a serious one, but it was still a little restrictive. Worth it, though, for the way it set off my already narrow waist and displayed my impressive chest.

I handed her my hairbrush and let her brush my hair. I had a LOT of hair. It was an incredibly pleasurable experience, and watching Tiffi in the mirror I could see she was enjoying it at least as much as I was. Finally it shone like a cascade of new pennies, and I set about putting on my makeup as Tiffi pulled out the boots. Some dangly silver earrings, plus a green satin choker to match the corset (or my thong, depending on how the day went) and I was ready for them.

Das Boots were black thigh-high four-inch stilettos, incredibly soft, buttery leather. I had boots that zipped, boots that buckled, boots that you just slipped on. (I had a lot of boots, for the same reason as the corsets.) These ones laced. A lot. All the way up the back, ankle to thigh. They were Tiffi's favorites for me to wear, probably because I needed her to tighten them properly. They were indescribably sexy, and it saddened me to know that I could be responsible for the very happy, very sudden deaths of any boot fetishists who happened across my path today.

I was standing, straight-legged, leaning on the back of the chair for support. I turned to look over my shoulder at Tiffi as she knelt to lace me in. "You're not developing a boot fetish, are you, Tiff?"

She looked up at me, wide-eyed. "Oh, no, mistress."

She smiled mischievously and turned her attention back to her work. "It's a mistress fetish."

I had to laugh. "For that, little flatterer, I'll let you wear your collar." She squealed in delight as I reached over to my dressing table and grabbed a cute little rhinestone pet collar. When she had finished with my boots, I turned to face her. She held her hair up out of the way as I fastened the collar around her neck. Her face was flushed and her chest heaved in the tight dress, her nipples threatening to poke holes in the thin fabric, the nipple rings plainly visible. The old Steffie knew the arousal Tiffi was feeling, and was a little envious.

The matching leash was also on the table, I clipped it to her collar. At six foot two in the boots, I towered over her, even with her own heels. In this outfit, I felt powerful, a sexual force of nature. I used the leash to pull her close for a kiss, then without a word I led her out of the bedroom and strode down the hall, hips swaying, long fiery hair flowing behind me, the leash held negligently in my hand, deliberately forcing Tiffi to hurry to keep pace.

That was part of the mistress gig, I realized. Obedience had to be hard sometimes, or the currency was devalued. I had to challenge my girls, but not task them beyond their abilities. If I went too quickly, and she fell trying to keep up, or she lagged, tugging the leash from my grasp, it would be my fault, not hers. She was entrusting me with total control, and thus with her own safety. It was a responsibility I took seriously.

Lucia and Marielle were just finishing in the kitchen when I breezed in, Tiffi in tow. "No lunch for us today, I have some business in town. Whose turn is it to drive?" I could drive myself, but the girls would sulk for days.

Mari stepped forward, clearly pleased. "My turn, mistress."

I nodded. "I'll need the car in about an hour. Come along, Tiffi."

We took the elevator downstairs to the club. The day staff was busy getting ready to open for the lunch crowd. I'd seen the club a million times before, but at the same time, this was the first time I'd really seen it. It was spacious, large but not huge, holding about three hundred customers on a good night -- and most nights were good nights. The decor wasn't exactly tasteful -- it was a strip club, we weren't pretentious about it -- but it wasn't sleazy-looking, and it was definitely high-end. The main stage was augmented by two smaller stages on the sides of the room, and there was a short hallway to a VIP room to the right of the main stage.

We were the best strip club in town to work at -- my dancers knew it, the dancers at the other clubs knew it. We drew the big spenders, because we had the friendliest, most desirable girls. We never had any problems finding dancers. In fact we rarely had any openings, so the auditions this morning had drawn a number of applicants.

Marcus, the day manager, was at the bar, reviewing some applications with a few of my dancers. New dancers had to be vetted by current staff; after all, who better to judge a stripper than another stripper?

"Morning, folks. How's this batch look?"

Marcus greeted us with a friendly smile. "Good morning, Mrs. Laurent, morning, Tiffany." Marcus was a stocky bulldog in his mid-fifties. He preferred to keep a slightly professional distance, but he was a sweetheart, very protective of the girls, and the staff loved him.

The dancers were more familiar, greeting us as two of their own. Tiffi was on leash rules; she knew not to speak without permission. She responded to the greetings with a smile and a little wave, and the women respected that. All the dancers at the club knew of the relationship between myself and my girls; some didn't understand it, a few were jealous. One or two had hopes of joining my family, and I hadn't seen fit to discourage them yet. All of the staff were open-minded about it, if they weren't, they didn't remain staff.

"We narrowed it down to these five, yesterday." Marcus slid five eight-by-ten glamour photographs across to me, I glanced through them and passed them to Tiff. "Sarah's in the dressing room with them now." Sarah was one of the lead dancers, sort of like a shift foreman. The prospective dancers would be getting changed for the first of their ten-minute sets; three songs of their choice, choreographed. The second set would be three songs of the club's choice, to see how well they were able to improvise.

I gave Tiffi permission to discuss the dancers with the others, and we stayed for all of the choreographed sets, then I had to leave. All the dancers had been very good; one in particular had caught my eye, a cute little sandy-haired woman that reminded me a lot of Tiffi. I slapped down my acquisitive mistress desires.

I wouldn't impose my preferences on Marcus, hiring decisions were Marcus' alone. I didn't manage over my manager's shoulders, but... I could improve the odds. "How many are you planning to hire?"

"We have two spots. I could probably manage a third if it was a really difficult choice."

"They're all good. If you still like them at the end of the day, hire them all. We can afford to be overstaffed a little, and we can shift another dancer or two to from afternoons to the evening lineup. Any of them could be headliners at another club, I think two of them already are. If they're working here, another club can't have them."

He chuckled, a low rumble from deep in his chest. "I was kind of hoping you'd say that."

I led Tiffi out through the back of the club to the garage. The club was in an industrial mall; I owned the whole property, the club at one end with our apartment over top, then my private garage, then a strip of spaces I leased out to a variety of tenants. I had a condo in one of the fancier towers downtown that I used only occasionally.

Marielle was waiting for us, next to the Lincoln, dressed in the chauffeur outfit the girls had insisted on putting together for themselves: grey skirt, with a navy blazer over a shirt and tie. She held the door for me, and I let Tiffi get in and slide over before I got in. My leather skirt wasn't inclined to slide easily over the leather seats, and I needed a moment to straighten myself out, before I nodded to Marielle and she closed the door, hurrying around the car to take the wheel.

"We're going to the lawyers', that big tower at Bay and Clifton." Mari nodded, and the car surged forward. I unclipped Tiff from her leash, we didn't flaunt our relationship to that extent in public; but with her anxiety I knew she'd stay close. In a closed space like the car or an office area she was perfectly fine, as long one of us was nearby, and I knew she enjoyed accompanying me on these trips.

The meeting at the lawyers' was largely a number of routine matters -- it seems paperwork generates spontaneously in the vicinity of money -- and I spent several informative hours, discussing the operations of the several charities that I funded. None of them had my name on them, and they each had their own administrator, but nonetheless, I made the final decisions.

I took Tiffi out for lunch, which entailed walking down the street a few blocks to a small bistro I apparently favored. The autumn sunshine was warm but the wind, cool; I wished we'd brought jackets. Tiffi was nervous on the crowded sidewalk, and insisted on holding my hand; the two of us were quite a scene, turning more than a few heads on the way. The new me loved the attention, head high, shoulders back, stiletto boots clicking, breasts bouncing, hips swaying, long red hair flowing in the breeze. Tiffi calmed a bit and I could tell she was working it, too. We shared a secret smile.

After lunch Marielle picked us up and drove us towards the university side of town, dropping us off at Mulligan's. It was well past time we spoke to Isabella.

I'd deliberately timed our arrival for the slack time after lunchtime crowd; Bridget was wiping down tables in the empty bar as we came in. We selected a fairly private booth, where we'd not easily be seen from the bar. I whispered Tiffany permission to speak to Bridget.

Bridget called to us across the empty room as we seated ourselves. "Afternoon, ladies, what'll it be?"

"Two club sodas, with lime, please. And a few minutes of your time, if you can spare it?"

Bridget arrived with the drinks in short order, looking puzzled at the request. Her eyes widened slightly as she took in my little blonde Tiffany, snuggled up to my arm and sucking her thumb again, watching Bridget closely with her startling blue dolly eyes. I'm afraid we were a little out of young Bridget's experience. "How can I help you?"

I tsk'd at Tiffi and pulled out her thumb. "Just some information -- would you like to sit down? I'd be happy to buy you a drink."

Bridget shook her head cautiously but perched on the edge of the seat. "Ummm, no, thanks. I'm good. What do you want to know?"

"I'm Mrs. Laurent. I own Tassles, on the other side of town." Bridget's eyes widened slightly, apparently she knew the place, or maybe she just realized that these women who dressed like strippers probably were strippers. "Anyway. I'm looking to invest in the university area, not a strip club this time, just a good old student bar. This bar. I don't want to buy a place, yet, I just want to understand the business a little better -- running a strip club is a little different," I shrugged modesly. "So I'm looking to take a minority investment. Do you know any of the owners?"

Bridget looked cagey. "Well, I do, but maybe you should just leave your card. I could ask them to call you..."

"Isabella, remember."

Bridget stopped in mid-sentence, blinking. Finally, a cautious, "Okay, who are you?"

I sighed. "I was Stephen." I indicated Tiffany. "This was Tom."

She studied us for a while. "Well, you seem to have done pretty well for yourselves," she observed bitterly.

I scowled. "You mean, aside from the fact that we used to be men, Tiffany here can't read or write, or even go outside alone without a panic attack... and has a rather stubborn oral fixation." I pulled her thumb out again, "and I was Steffi Burke..."

Isabella paled, her eyes going wide. "Nooooo... Steffi?" she gasped, then glanced at Tiffany. "And Tiffi?" We nodded, grimly. "But... oh, God, you're dead. There was a service... y-you were flown back to Texas yesterday. There was going to be another service there, and you'd be buried next to your ma. My dad" -- she rolled her eyes and corrected herself -- "Bridget's father went back home on the plane with yours. Your dad... well, you can imagine..." Her voice trailed off.

I had half-expected it would be something like that, but even knowing it was coming did nothing to soften the blow. The thought of Daddy, grieving over the graves of his wife and now his daughters, was too much to bear. Oh, Daddy, we're so sorry...

I wrapped my arms around Tiffi and she buried her face in my shoulder. Tears were welling in my eyes. I managed to get out, "H-how?"

Isabella looked uncomfortable. "S-steffi... she got beat up, badly. She managed to get back to the dorm, and she slit her wrists. She died before they could get her to the hospital. Tiffi was out of her head about it. She blamed Jake, confronted him the next morning..." She stared at the table. "He... pushed her. She fell, hit her head. Died the next day. He said it was self-defense, she attacked him, her fall was an accident. There was no proof, one way or the other. The police couldn't do anything. They're charging him with the assault on Steffi, but there's not a lot of evidence there, either."

I glared at her. "You did this. You told Jake about Steffi. Jacobi told me."

She looked startled, and seemed about to deny it, but instead her shoulders slumped. "He made me do it, I had no idea it was you! Who could have known how it would turn out?"

"He threatened to use your disk again. Change you into something else. Something worse."

She nodded, glowering. "He turned me into a ticking baby bomb. The day I'm married, the fuse is lit." she spat. "That's bad enough. But there's lots worse, if he'd wanted to do it."

I shook my head earnestly. "He can't. Your disk was destroyed when you were changed. Tiff and I both saw it. He has no hold on you." Tiffi nodded in confirmation.

"So... I'm stuck like this..." She went quiet, staring off into space for a few moments, and a tear rolled down her cheek. "I swear, I had no idea what would happen! It seemed like a harmless prank, I thought he was getting set up, that Steffi'd slap him silly if he tried anything and he'd be embarrassed in public." She scowled. "Jacobi laid it on pretty thick, though... I guess I should have wondered... "

Isabella thought about briefly, but then shook her head. "No. I'm sorry, but to be honest, I'd have done it anyway. I thought he had my disk. I never expected anyone would die. You know what Jacobi could do. What would you do to avoid pissing him off?"

I sighed and sat back. It was a damn good question. "Jacobi never expected it either. Nobody knew Jake was such a vicious bastard." I changed the subject. "What's happened to the wedding?"

She sighed. "Well, obviously we're postponing it. We'll probably have a much smaller wedding in a month or so. Bridget doesn't even love Tony so much as she loves the idea of being a bride. And especially having a honeymoon. He was just the first to ask." Isabella rolled her eyes. "She's horny as hell, poor thing. She has no idea what's going to happen to her."

"With Tony, at least, she'll be sure of a half-decent husband... except he's supposed to hit her."

Isabella laughed. "If he does, he's in for a shock. Bridget would kick the shit out of that scrawny weed. When she was done, her dad'd start. It wouldn't happen more than once."

Tiffi spoke up in her soft lisp, "What if the wedding was called off?"

Isabella shrugged. "Bridget would take some convincing. She's desperate to get laid, and she's stuck being a virgin till her wedding. So... the sooner the wedding, the better, as far as she's concerned."

I frowned in thought, worrying at Bridget's problem. "What is she thinking of the two of us?" I indicated Tiffi and myself.

She chuckled darkly. "Bridget is curious as hell about you two. She went to a girl's school, everyone experimented with a little girl-on-girl, but... she doesn't really understand the attraction. But after looking at the two of you, she'd like to understand it... you do know how hot you look, right? You're making me horny, and I'm strictly into men."

I crooked my finger at her. "Slide in here, next to Tiffi, where nobody can see. I want to try something, if you're willing. I think you'll like it."

Isabella looked suspicious, but eventually her curiosity got the better of her. She slid along the bench until she was close to Tiffi. Nobody would see us from the bar or the door, without giving plenty of warning.

She was wearing a low-cut top, which would make it easy to test my idea. "Pull out your breast, and let Tiffi suck on it," I suggested in a perfectly reasonable tone of voice. Tiffi didn't need to be asked twice, her thumb popped out and she was eyeing Isabella's breasts eagerly.

Isabella looked shocked and made to get out of the booth. "Are you crazy?. I told you, you're hot, but you're not my type. Not happening!"

I hurriedly explained. "Remember the spell? You'll love having your tits sucked. I bet it doesn't have to be a baby doing it..." I raised my eyebrow, and stroked Tiffi. "I can tell you, first hand -- Tiffi is amazing. Aren't you just the least bit curious?"

I could tell from the way her nipples announced themselves, she was more than a bit curious. She looked at Tiffi, then at me. Then at Tiffi again. Then around the room, making sure we wouldn't be seen. Finally, almost of its own volition, her hand pulled her shirt open, and she popped a generous breast out of her bra, the nipple already firm.

Tiffi wasted no time in latching on, and Isabella's reaction was immediate. Her lips parted in an astonished "Ooooooooh", her eyes fluttered closed, and her head shot back against the wall of the booth. Her breath quickened, until she was gasping for air.

I left Tiffi at it, my hand reaching between her legs from behind. She was already wet. I slid my fingers along the crotch of her panties, letting my thumb slide inside her while my fingers massaged her mound, and teased her. I was rewarded with a low moan from Tiff, and a whimper from Isabella. When Tiffi was very close to a climax, I pulled her off Isabella and whispered "Good girl" in her ear as I gave her nipple a little tweak. Tiffi's orgasm was instantaneous, and spectacular.

I watched the two women, amused and a little envious, as they sat in the booth, struggling to catch their breath. Tiffi took my hand and licked her own juices off of my fingers.

Isabella's hands were shaking as she tucked her breast out of sight. "Breastfeeding doesn't seem so bad anymore..."

I took a deep breath. "Maybe we could do this again. It could be a regular thing, we could help each other. If we found a way... would you help us to recover our disks from Jacobi?" I wasn't about to tell her she was the only one who could touch them; not until I could trust her. Which maybe meant never.

Isabella looked startled at the request, her eyes flicking nervously back and forth between Tiffi and myself. "Hold on... I don't even know if you're telling the truth. He could still have my disk, you could be setting me up... He could be using you, like he used me... or you could be setting me up, for revenge..." She chewed her lip, considering the angles. Finally, she straightened up, and shook her head. "I'm sorry, I just can't. If he has my disk, it's too great a risk. If he doesn't, he can't fix me anyway. The safest thing for me to do is keep as low a profile as I can." She looked down at the table. "I wish you luck, though."

I slid out of the booth, Tiffi close behind me. "He's already used the disks on us again. If he had your disk, don't you think he'd have come for you by now?" I asked bitterly.

She looked miserable. "Don't... don't wake me again. I know you meant well, but you wouldn't be doing me a favor."

I stopped at the door, took a business card from my purse, and wrote "Come see me" on the back. I smiled tightly. "I'm not inclined to do you any favors." I stuck the card into her cleavage, and we left, forcing Isabella into the background, and leaving a dazed Bridget to try to figure out what had just happened.

The poor girl was going to have some interesting memories to sort out. She'd probably remember what happened, but not why. Maybe she'd be interested enough to come by the club. To be honest, I didn't have any clear idea what I'd do if she did show. I'd probably want to keep tabs on Isabella, since Jacobi had woken her once already. I'm not sure I could trust anything she said, though. She was terrified of Jacobi, she'd do anything he wanted her to do. I suppose that was punishment enough.

On the trip home, my thoughts returned to poor Daddy. For all the good Jacobi might claim to have done this time around, all of it together couldn't offset the grief of that one poor man, burying his daughters, and left all alone in the world.

Tiffi huddled into me, both of us looking out the window without seeing anything. Marielle sensed our mood, and didn't intrude. I explained to her that we'd expected to meet with one of the owners, but he was out of town, at the funeral of his nieces. I explained about the deaths of the twins, and how the coincidence of our names had made it seem more personal. All true, as far as it went.

Once home, I needed Tiffi to help me get the damn boots off, and sighed with pleasure once my feet were released from their stylish leather prison, massaging the crisscross lace marks all up the backs of my legs. I ditched the rest of the outfit, too, trading it all for a comfortable old bra and cotton undies under a loose tee shirt and a pair of jeans. Even dommes need lounging clothes. I reclaimed Tiffi's collar and sent her off to get changed. She reappeared a second later, in nothing but her lingerie; she'd just kicked off her heels and peeled out of her dress.

I rolled my eyes and glared balefully at her, which she pretended not to notice, and I padded barefoot down the hall to relax on the living room couch. It was only midafternoon; and I wanted to think about what we'd learned. Tiffi managed to insinuate herself between me and the back of the couch, threatening to land me on the floor in the process. "You're worse than a cat!" I scolded, and slapped her bottom affectionately.

Tiffi popped her thumb out of her mouth long enough to give me an agreeable "Meow".

Not surprisingly, we were joined a minute later by Lucia and Marielle. They at least knew better than to try to squeeze onto the couch, and instead chose to sit on the carpet, leaning their backs against the couch and each other. Tiffi, discovering someone else in danger of being comfortable, clambered over me to join her sisters on the floor, squirming her way between them while they complained good-naturedly. I turned on my side, using one arm for a pillow, absently stroking my girl's heads with the other hand. "I can't help but think about the father of those poor girls. I just wish there was something we could do for him."

Lucia had a thought. "Well, it's not a great idea, and I know it sounds crass, but... could you maybe send him some money? To help pay for the funeral, at least? Maybe pretend there was some kind of insurance policy?"

I sighed. "I'm afraid that's the only idea I had, as well, but I can't see how we could manage it so that it didn't sound like, 'So sorry for your loss, will this check make you feel better?'"

"Well, rather than hand him some money, how about do something nice for him, or in memory of his girls? Maybe there's something he'd like to do, but can't afford..." Marielle suggested.

I mulled on that one, nodding slowly. "I think that has potential... What do you think, Tiff?"

She spoke slowly, carefully. I could sense she was trying hard to fight her curse, and think coherently about the problem, for Daddy's sake. "You could donate money to a worthy cause, in their name... maybe to the hospital? Or a scholarship?"

I blinked, astonished at how perfect the idea was. I clutched her head and bent over to give it a kiss, unbalancing and sliding off the couch and into the girls, forming a tangled, squealing heap on the floor. "Oh, Tiffany, I love it! You are brilliant!" I delivered kisses all around to my brilliant team of giggling advisors, then I held up my hand. "Phone!" I demanded imperiously, and one of the girls slapped the portable phone into my hand, receiving a kiss in return. I lay there on the floor, my head somehow managing to wind up in a lap, as I dialed the lawyer.

"Max, It's Stephanie Laurent, I hope your voicemail isn't limited to short messages, this will be a long one. Call me on my cell if I'm cut off. I found out today about a man named John Burke, of Calamina County, Texas. He had twin daughters in school here that were murdered last week, twins, named Stephanie and Tiffany. It's a long story, but that makes it kinda personal, and I want to do something for him and for the girl's memory..."

I closed my eyes and tried to marshal my thoughts. "Okay. One, establish a college scholarship in the names of each daughter, Tiffany and Stephanie Burke... for academically qualified young women from the girl's high school, or failing that, the county, who cannot afford tuition. Any college that has accepted them, up to Ivy League. Full tuition, books, and living expenses, for four years. Two scholarships to be granted every year. You can add the bells and whistles. Do it through the women's shelter charity, don't put my name on it, write him a letter to tell him.

"Two. In the same letter, inform him that if he chooses, you will proceed with legal action against Jake Karides... he's the one who murdered his daughters... okay, 'allegedly'... the cops don't seem to be able to pursue it... You'll need to get the facts yourself, hire an investigator... but it's his choice. I'll pay for it, through the women's legal fund, but only if he wants it. If he'd rather let it go, that's his choice."

"Three. Offer him twice the market value for his farm. The offer is open for as long as he wants to think about it. Years, if necessary. Do it through an agent in Texas, I don't want it connected back to you or me." I shared a look with Tiffi, she nodded. We didn't want Daddy living out there on the farm, all alone. It would do him good to move into town.

"Four. Contact the hospital, set up a meeting. I want to know how they might put a half-million dollar bequest to good use. Something relevant to young women and abuse. It will be in the girl's names."

I was on a roll, now. "Five. There's a bar near the university, a place called Mulligan's. It's popular with the students, does a good business. A man named Brian O'Shaunessy has a share of the ownership. Offer him fifty percent above market value for his share. If he asks, assure him I'm not looking for control of the bar, he can continue to work there if he chooses, and I'm content to let him control my share if he wants. Put it in writing. Tell him I'm considering a larger investment in the bar scene around the university, and just want to get my feet wet." It was a stupid excuse, but hopefully Uncle Brian would let me do him a favor.

"That's it, send me an email to confirm, but I want the letter to go out to John Burke tomorrow -- wait, that's Saturday -- by end of day Monday, then, but courier it, for delivery Tuesday. I'll expect to hear from you between now and then to clear up any questions."

I disconnected and tossed the phone in the air for one of the girls to catch. It wasn't a lot to help Daddy directly, but I knew he'd feel better knowing Steffi and Tiffi were remembered. I felt an enormous weight off me, doing that much for him, at least. "That is about all we can do, I think. What do you think, Tiff?" She answered me by plastering my face with kisses, which rapidly deteriorated into an all-hands tickle fight, during which I was horribly outnumbered, wickedly betrayed, and brutally overwhelmed.

Some dominatrix you turned out to be. Yeah, well, bite me. Real mistresses are missing out.

When I'd caught my breath, I announced, "Turnabout night, tonight!" My girls cheered excitedly, but quieted as I held up a cautionary finger. "But... It has to be an early bedtime. Tomorrow, we're going to the farm." The cheering recommenced, only louder.