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Archive name: sftrsch.txt (Mmf, cd, tg, nc, family)
Authors name: Marlissa (address defunct)
Story title : After School Special 

--------------------------------------------------------
This work is copyrighted to the author © 1998.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story.  All rights reserved. Thank you for your 
consideration.
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After School Special (Mmf, cd, tg, nc, family)
by Marlissa (address defunct)

***

There she was. "Come in Brenda!" Glen Simmons absently 
shouted. 

Brenda Porter, the freshman girl who had freaked out at 
her bus stop shyly entered the room. Glen wondered why 
he didn't remember her from the junior high school, then 
remembered this was the transfer student who had just 
started at Bentson High. He pointed to the seat, which 
she took, careful to keep the hem of her red spandex 
miniskirt under her thighs.

She was a pretty pony tailed brunette, about 5' 4", with 
coltish slim hips and a small bust, which she 
accentuated with a midriff-baring sleeveless navy knit 
top. She wore saucy little three-inch red heels and 
precious white socks with elaborate lace trimmings, and 
her legs were smooth and shiny. 

Brenda was just starting to blossom into full-fledged 
femininity, with a bright pouty red lipsticked mouth, 
mascara'ed hazel eyes with thin plucked brows and 
lightly highlighted cheeks. Cute face too-- delicate 
bone structure with a longish look and a short pointy 
chin and a pair of dimples to die for. A typical 
fourteen year old girl even down to the braces which she 
revealed as she gave him a respectful smile. 

Well, maybe not so typical. She reminded him of someone 
but he couldn't think who at the moment. And she did 
dress a little provocatively for fourteen-- a veritable 
Lolita in that form-fitting top and tight spandex mini. 
But Glen had to be honest-- he hadn't the slightest idea 
of what teen fashion held sway at present. Maybe this 
was considered "in." 

"Mr. Skinner mentioned that something happened this 
morning. 

Something that upset you. Want to talk about it?"

The smile ran away from her face in an instant. "Uh, I 
don't know what you mean, sir." She twirled a long lock 
of her ponytail nervously, eyelashes batting rapidly.

"Well, I understand Tommy Jacobs was teasing you. Why 
don't you tell me the rest." He nodded, inviting her to 
do so at once.

The teen kept her big hazel eyes locked on her shoes. 
"Uh, we were in the bus line and Tommy was behind me and 
he snapped my bra strap."

Glen nodded, noting this with gravity on his legal pad. 
Inside he wanted to laugh. The kid had gone hysterical 
because a boy had snapped her bra! "And that was it?"

She shuffled her pumps. "No. He said I had nice little 
boobies and he wanted to touch them." She was angry and 
her lips were pursed tight over her braces. When her 
lips parted again, Glen could see the pink lipstick 
traces on the steel fittings.

Glen considered quickly. He had to be gentle but he also 
knew Old Man Skinner would go ballistic if Brenda kept 
having screaming fits whenever some boy snapped her bra. 
He couldn't help but notice she did have a nice, if 
petite figure for a fourteen year old. If he were 
fourteen, he might have snapped her bra-- if he hadn't 
noticed something OFF about her. He couldn't put his 
finger on it, but there was something strange about the 
girl.

"You know Brenda, boys at this age often do these kinds 
of things to show a girl he likes her." 

Glen noticed the girl blush. As if this comment reminded 
her of something she ought to do, Brenda daintily 
crossed her smooth legs, her small hands with their red 
polished nails smoothing down the miniskirt hem as she 
did. He continued quickly. 

"Tommy was just flirting with you. He probably likes 
you. Pretty girls get teased that way a lot and 
unfortunately they just have to get used to all kinds of 
attention from boys."

The little brunette looked dully out the window. "That's 
what Daddy says. Just what Daddy says." Glen thought he 
detected a hint of bitterness in the soft voice.

"Well, he's right. I'm sure your mother tells you the 
same thing too--doesn't she?"

The student nodded reluctantly. "Do you think I'm a 
pretty girl, Mr. Simmons?" she asked plaintively.

"Yes I do, Brenda." Has she got a crush on me?... but 
no-- the compliment caused her to frown worriedly. Glen 
pressed on. "And isn't it nice to think a boy your own 
age thinks so too and that he likes you? Maybe you and 
Tommy could be boyfriend and girlfriend before too long. 
You're at the age when I bet you think about those 
things."

Brenda's jaw dropped, eyes wide.

Good, I must be right since she looks surprised, he 
thought. He plowed on in a similar vein, eager to finish 
this little interview up. He had paperwork to get to. 
"Sure, I bet you think about boys a lot-- maybe even 
daydream about the cute ones. It's natural for you to be 
a little boy-crazy, Brenda. You shouldn't be ashamed of 
your new feelings. Hey, I know who you look like now. 
I've been trying to think of it and it just came to me-- 
you look like that girl on Beverly Hills 90210, uh, 
Brenda. Anyone ever tell you that?"

And then Glen knew he wouldn't be getting to his 
paperwork, because Brenda Porter broke in a deep sobbing 
fit. Instantly he was on his feet handing her some 
kleenex. Trying to comfort her he put his hands on her 
thin shoulders. "It's ok--"

"Don't touch me, please!" she shrieked.

His hands flew off her shoulders in a second. "Brenda, 
relax! I'm just trying to help! Obviously I'll have to 
call your parents at once. You're in no state to return 
to class."

She looked up terrified. "No Mr. Simmons! Please don't 
call my parents! I'm ok! See? I'm all set!" The 
theatrical grin on her tear stained face was offered as 
proof.

He picked up the phone as she rattled off assurances she 
was indeed ok "I just got silly because of what Tommy 
did, Mr. Simmons. Really! I'm ok I guess you're right 
about those things you said about girls at my age going 
boy-crazy. I, uh, do like Tommy and I got all weird 
inside. But please don't call my parents! I'm in enough 
trouble with them already! I'll be punished if you call 
them!" Her eyes pleaded with him not to make the call.

He put the phone down and Brenda relaxed. "Ok Brenda-- 
you can go back to class. If you have anything else you 
want to talk about, come see me anytime-- I'll arrange a 
hall pass for you, ok"

She smiled sweetly, brushing the last of the tears way. 
"Thank you Mr. Simmons. I won't be bothering you any 
more." She picked up her books and minced shyly from the 
office. 

Glen immediately reached for Brenda's file. Something 
was wrong-- he could sense it. At twenty he wasn't so 
far away in age from these kids so as not to be able to 
understand them. 

Old Man Skinner, the principal, had hired him out of 
community college only after he had received a copy of 
his degree in education-- he hadn't believed Glen was 
old enough to have been to college. And his looks didn't 
help either-- his bright blonde hair, too-pale beardless 
complexion, his short height. Maybe that's why he had 
always wanted to work as a guidance counselor-- at heart 
he felt more comfortable with the kids than the adult 
world. Only with kids did he feel like he commanded 
respect. And he knew teens well enough to know Brenda's 
behavior was just wrong.

He flipped through the courses chosen. Home Economics 
(an A), Gym Class (an A-), then all Cs and Ds in her 
required academic courses, all of which were general. 
That indicated Brenda wasn't taking college prep 
courses. Not a future Rocket Scientist of America, he 
chuckled. 

Then he glanced in surprise at the IQ score-- 135! Not a 
genius but she ought to be taking college prep for now. 
He took another look at the coursework. It was annotated 
"General classes at request of parents." He found the 
parents' names. Maybe if he could talk to them, convince 
them Brenda needed to take harder courses and really 
apply herself. They're probably not too bright 
themselves.

Wrong again. "Mr. Rick Mason, attorney at law and Dr. 
Lesley Mason, plastic surgeon." These were Brenda the 
Ditz'es parents? They had requested non-college courses 
for their daughter? It didn't make sense. He needed more 
information. 

He dialed up the number listed as the last school 
attended and was connected to a Deanna Hill, his 
counterpart at the Jasper Ohio Junior High School 
guidance office.

"Yes I remember Brenda. Cute girl, real quiet. Is there 
a problem?" the older lady inquired helpfully.

Glen didn't know what to say. Even inferring there might 
be would be against the rules. And if it got back to the 
parents, he might be held liable for slander. "Not 
really. I just want to help her adjust to our school and 
I thought you might have some insights," he explained.

"Well, she was only here for a year. A good kid 
basically. She never was very social-- no friends I can 
recall. She wasn't an academic star-- never did her 
homework and never studied for tests. She seemed 
embarrassed about it but never did anything to improve. 
Just had a 'I'm just an airhead and I can't help it' 
attitude-- not that she ever brought a book home. Not 
that her parents cared. They attended one teacher-parent 
conference and said if Brenda could learn to cook, clean 
and sew plus keep herself in shape, then they were 
happy. God damn," the woman exclaimed, "it was as if all 
they wanted for Brenda was to be some bimbo housewife! 
And her mother is a doctor for God's sakes!"

Glen hesitated then plunged in. "How did Brenda get 
along with boys?"

A pause. "You know, it was funny. She seemed completely 
preoccupied with her appearance, like being pretty was 
everything. I thought she dressed, well-- a bit old for 
her age. You know-- one of those girls who really gets 
into makeup and clothing. And yet she hated it when boys 
touched her even innocently. Never had a boyfriend 
either. At one point, I suspected sexual abuse-- you 
know that's not natural for a girl to be so skittish."

"What happened?" Glen pressed.

A disgusted laugh. "They moved before I had a chance to 
do anything. That's why I'm glad you called. Tell me 
what high school you're at so we can pursue legal."

Glen hung the phone up. Skinner was such a conservative 
that he'd flip if Glen brought in some out-of-town know-
it-all. Bentson was a small town with a small town 
mentality. If Glen thought Brenda was being sexually 
abused, he'd have to dig up more than he had. He 
searched through the files but the only other 
information was the listing for the school Brenda 
attended preceding Jasper Junior High. He dialed the 
number for the Central Massachusetts State School and 
got the records office.

"I need the records for a student, please."

"Social security number?" a gruff male voice demanded 
rudely. 

"034-99-6669."

"That D. Porter?" The voice didn't sound like a guidance 
counselor in a school system to Glen.

"Yes. Can you tell me something about--"

"Look Mac, hundreds come in and go out as fast as I can 
book 'em here in Records. I don't no particulars, ok?"

"Fine, just fax it over ok?" He gave him the number, got 
a brusque 'yeah' and the promise it would be there by 
end of day.

That has to be it for my Sam Spade routine for a while, 
Glen thought. He put the file in his brief case, soon 
forgetting about Brenda Porter. For the rest of the 
morning he buried himself in evaluation forms and 
talking to college admissions offices as he requested 
information for next year's seniors. At noon, he heard 
the cries from the kid's recess. With an effort he freed 
himself from his paperwork and looked out the window. 

The day's weather had turned out well and a beaming May 
sun was streaming in. He looked across the school 
grounds at the various kids-- the girls gossiping in 
groups, the boys tossing a baseball, and then... Brenda. 
She was leaning against the main building wall, reading 
the latest issue of Seventeen. 

She seemed so intent on her magazine she couldn't see 
Tommy Jacobs sneaking up behind her. Glen could see on 
Tommy's face there was going to be trouble and with what 
he guessed about the girl, he knew that one of Tommy's 
pranks was the last thing needed. He sprang to his feet.

He had just swung open the door when he and the entire 
freshman class of Benston High saw Tommy pluck up the 
hem of Brenda's red hip hugging spandex miniskirt to 
reveal what was underneath-- a pair of red cotton 
French-cut bikini panties that clung high on her slim 
hips. The kids filled the schoolyard with laughter as 
Tommy triumphantly cried "I knew it, I knew it! Brenda 
wears slut red panties! Hahahahahahah!" 

He ran to Tommy, pushing him away and trying to obscure 
the view of the kids. The eighty or so kids in the yard 
roared with laughter, boys looking over and around Glen 
to get a peek at Brenda's underclothes. He turned back 
to her and she was hysterical, struggling to yank her 
skirt down, but Tommy was holding it up, not allowing 
her to. Brenda flayed at him weakly, her arms flying to 
cover her pantied crotch.

"Tommy Jacobs, leave Brenda alone--now, mister! Or it's 
Detention Hall!"

The boy gave him a lame look and let go of the skirt. As 
he did, his eyes caught a flash of Brenda's now-infamous 
panties. Tommy, unwilling to risk further trouble had 
walked off and the kids had turned away as well, not 
interested in being implicated. So Glen was the only one 
who saw the bright reflection of sun on what looked like 
metal. 

The glint had come from where Brenda's panties 
disappeared between her legs, as if from some metallic 
surface underneath the skimpy undergarment. He looked 
quickly away. As he did, he thought he caught Brenda 
slipping a finger under the panty crotch and pulled it 
over the metal.

"Brenda, go inside and pull yourself together. I'll 
speak to Tommy."

Brenda looked at him, face beet red and thoroughly 
humiliated. "I didn't do anything, Mr. Simmons! He kept 
bothering me, asking me what color panties I was 
wearing! When I told him to leave me alone, he called me 
a tease and he did this!" She was shaking.

"Go on in, Brenda. And I think I better give you a ride 
home tonight after school, all right? Riding the bus 
with Tommy is asking for trouble."

She nodded and trotted off to the Girl's Room to compose 
herself. As she did, Glen watched what had probably 
started the trouble. Brenda's spandex skirt was so 
tight, that her panty line underneath was as clear as 
day. As she swiveled her slim hips, it must have seemed 
to Tommy that yes, she was being a tease. "Good" girls 
just didn't sashay around that way. Glen sighed and took 
Tommy to Skinner's office for a "discussion."

An hour later, Glen returned to his office. On a hunch 
he called the Nurse's office. "Has Brenda Porter had any 
surgery that you know of?"

No, not that she knew of, the nurse answered as she 
consulted her records. Any corrective surgery she'd need 
a metal brace for? Was there any mention of hip 
problems? No, none of that. Last time she'd been seen by 
the nurse?

"Haven't seen her actually. The day we did Physicals, 
she was out. Then she came in with a note from her 
mother giving her a clean bill of health. I wouldn't 
worry about Brenda's health at all, Mr. Simmons. You see 
her mother is a doctor."

He hung the phone up. Glen knew it was wrong to be so 
beguiled by the mystery of what was under Brenda's 
panties. It was pretty indecent actually. But even 
though the girl was undeniably sexy in a fresh way, he 
told himself he was only interested in the answer as it 
fit with the rest of the pieces. And yet even as he 
tried to distract himself with his mounds of paperwork, 
his mind kept returning to the sight of that pantied 
midsection, so taut and trim under that panty. 

The panties were cut so sheerly they practically 
disappeared up the girl's privates giving him the 
impression that the girl either hadn't grown much pubic 
hair or that she kept it closely shaved. Or entirely 
shaved. But that was crazy! A fourteen-year-old girl 
shaving her sex? He wondered how wild Miss Brenda Porter 
was and what exactly she did after school. He stopped. 
There had been a small bulge under there. Yes, now that 
he thought about it, there had definitely been a mound. 
All this daydreaming had brought it back.

He had only begun to ponder what the metal item was that 
perhaps caused the mound when he remembered to check the 
fax machine. There it was, waiting for him at three-
thirty on the dot. He took the fax to his desk and began 
to read. It seemed the Central Massachusetts State 
School wasn't your run-of-the-mill junior high. It was a 
reformatory. And a mistake had obviously been made in 
the records. 

The "D. Porter" listed was a twelve year old boy! He had 
the phone in hand to call the Records Department to make 
another request for the proper file when he saw the 
grainy head shot. He looked at the fax closely. The 
photo was that of a twelve-year-old boy, Danny Belmont. 
The familiar hazel eyes, the black hair, the pointy 
chin-- it was as if Brenda had a brother! No dimples or 
Adam's Apple, and Danny's lips were thinner than 
Brenda's, but other than that they might have been 
siblings. Weird.

He looked at the notes in the file. "Danny's birth 
parents unknown. Brought up in a number of foster homes. 
Caught shoplifting at eleven and remanded to the Central 
State School for correction. Placed for adoption by 
state to Mr. and Dr. Mason at age eleven and a half." So 
Brenda had a brother? But the other information was 
identical. Danny Belmont's Social Security number was 
034-99-6669. And so was Brenda Belmont's.

Glen heard the knock on the door. It was Brenda, here 
for her ride home. Glen gathered up Brenda's file and 
the fax and threw it in his briefcase. "Ready?"

Brenda nodded, her ponytail bouncing. "Yes, thank you 
Mr. Simmons."

"Say Brenda, can I reach your parents at this hour? I'd 
like to see them after I drop you off-- about, uh, what 
a good job you're doing in Home Ec and Gym class."

Her hazel eyes widened in fear then glee as he added the 
reason. "Oh would you, Mr. Simmons? It means so much to 
them that I do well in those classes. They would be so 
pleased with me!"

"Well, fine. I'll be happy to do that. Just tell me 
where I might find them. At their offices?"

Brenda thought a minute then shook her head doubtfully. 
"Oh no sir. They're always home when I get off the bus. 
They're always there after school."

And so they were. Glen could see the matching black and 
silver BMW convertibles there at the head of the long 
drive, even as he pulled in with his old Pontiac 
Firebird. The house was practically an estate, easily 
two hundred yards off the road, hidden behind huge, 
immaculate hedges and a mason wall.

 It stared down at him imposingly, three stories of 
white Victorian excess of cupolas, verandahs, and French 
windows. A gorgeous house, certainly in the million-
dollar range. He looked at Brenda again, silently 
contemplating some inner concern in her trampy little 
miniskirt. "General classes at request of parents." 

Even if Brenda was adopted like her brother, why would 
the new parents who lived in such affluence restrict her 
to go-nowhere courses? Why would they place such a 
premium on Home Ec and Gym class? Why would they allow 
her to leave the house dressed this way every day?

A tall, youngish man of thirty-eight or so opened the 
front door, eyeing him suspiciously. Brenda looked up, 
biting her lower lip. "Daddy," she explained as they got 
out of the car. "You'll tell him I'm doing well in Home 
Ec and Gym?"

Glen nodded and extended his hand. "Mr. Mason, I'm Glen 
Simmons, the Guidance Counselor at Bentson High School."

The man's mien softened. He reminded Glen of a TV 
lawyer-- slightly graying hair, strong, conservative 
presence and a self-confidence that bordered on 
arrogance. "Nice to meet you. To be honest, I thought my 
Brenda was getting a ride home from a high school boy. 
No offense intended," he added humorously.

Glen blushed. "None taken. I offered to give your 
daughter a ride home because of something that happened 
at school today--"

"Has she gotten herself into some mischief, Glen?" He 
looked critically at Brenda, who looked at Glen with 
hurt betrayal.

"No-- she hasn't done anything Mr. Mason. It was just a 
schoolyard prank really. Actually if your wife is home, 
I'd like to ask you some questions."

The attorney masterfully waved off the request. "Come in 
the house first and let's get this cleared up. Brenda, 
come here girl."

Brenda, standing frightened between the two, obeyed and 
with eyes downcast and by the older man's side, walked 
with them into the house. Inside a tall striking redhead 
of thirty-five was pulling off a lab coat. Glen thought 
she looked like a younger Sigourney Weaver, with a hard-
edged, no-nonsense way about her. She was introduced as 
Mrs. Mason. 

It nettled Glen who liked first names not to be granted 
the courtesy of calling these people by their first 
names even as they called him Glen. They had a way, Glen 
could tell right off of making one seem inferior. 
Probably got that from giving orders to everyone all day 
long.

The four were in the living room, the Masons and Glen 
sitting and Brenda standing. Mr. Mason demanded to know 
what had happened in the schoolyard and as Glen 
explained what had happened, Brenda cringed. After 
hearing the whole story, Mason turned his cold blue eyes 
on the teen.

"So, you're teasing boys again, that it?"

Brenda shook her head, the ponytail dancing in the air. 
"No, Daddy! I swear!"

The parents exchanged smug looks. "Obviously Brenda 
needs to be taught another in a long unbroken string of 
lessons, Rick. Will you do the honors or shall I?"

The husband pointed to his chest. "You handled her last 
time. I better take care of it this time. We switch off 
so she doesn't think she can get away with anything," he 
explained to Glen.

He stood up and took off his expensive suit jacket. With 
deliberate slowness, he unbuckled his belt and pulled it 
off. 

Glen watched in growing unease till he understood that 
Brenda was about to be strapped with a belt for doing no 
more than being a pretty girl!

"Please, it wasn't her fault! She doesn't deserve to be 
punished!" he pleaded.

The man smiled cruelly. "But you said it wasn't really 
the boy's fault either. Well, you don't know Brenda. She 
needs this," he slapped the belt hard against his open 
palm," to remind her to behave herself like a proper 
young lady. And no more interruptions Glen. When I've 
finished with this, we can discuss why you're here, but 
not before."

Glen stood up. "Perhaps I should leave."

"Whatever for?" Mrs. Mason asked fliply. "Brenda is 
punished all the time. Just wait five minutes. That's 
all it takes."

Glen sat down, mesmerized as the girl, in resignation, 
draped herself over the man's knees. As if part of a 
regular ritual, she herself yanked up the miniskirt, 
revealing the incriminating panties that had caused all 
the trouble. Mason's fingers were on the elastic band of 
the panties and was ready to pull them down, then looked 
at Glen and left them up. Glen looked for a telltale 
glint of metal, but Brenda had either covered it up or 
it had never been there. Of the slight bulge, Glen could 
see nothing from where he was sitting.

He watched with macabre fascination as the leather belt 
was raised high over the small, shapely pantied rear and 
fell with a harsh crack. Brenda's eyes were closed, but 
she obediently counted out each and every stroke. On the 
second stroke, she broke into tears, but even then, she 
continued to announce each stroke as it crashed into her 
backside. From the corner of his eye, Glen noted that 
Lesley had unconsciously let her hand drift down to the 
lap of her pants. Then, aware of it, pulled it back 
stealthily.

At last, Brenda was allowed to rise. She was told to go 
to her room as the adults had a talk. All three adults 
watched the fourteen-year-old prance painfully out of 
the room, the slim hips forced to swivel in an 
exaggerated way so as to avoid feeling more pain.

"Little slut," Mason whispered as his eyes followed the 
spandexed teen ass wriggle out of the room.

"Yes, little whore," agreed the doctor wife in a cold, 
reptilian way. Glen shivered.

Mason looked up at Glen, completely professional. "Now, 
what do you have to tell us about Brenda?"

"Well, did you adopt Brenda?" he asked.

The two nodded. "Yes, when she was eleven or so. I took 
care of the legalities," answered the lawyer affably.

"And did she have a brother named Danny?" Glen pushed.

The redhead rose. "Drink for you Glen?" she asked 
suddenly.

He looked uncertainly at the two of them. Mason answered 
for him. "Yes, Lesley, great idea. Get us all some 
lemonade-- all right for you Glen?"

He nodded. As the tall redhead left the room, there was 
a moment when he thought their eyes met again in some 
secret amusement.

"You're about what, 5' 4" Glen?"

He nodded, embarrassed about where this was going.

"Young too, huh? What are you, eighteen?"

"Twenty, Mr. Mason."

He gave him a comical look, as if to ask who could 
believe that. "I thought you were sixteen when I first 
saw you. I'd say definitely sixteen. What do you say, 
Lesley? Doesn't Glen look as if he's about sixteen?"

She smiled with icy concurrence. "Oh yes, he's got the 
small framed body of a sixteen year old at most. My 
apologies, Glen-- my clinical opinion, that's all." She 
handed him a glass of lemonade. "Here you go."

He took it and put it down. "Thank you. Now about this 
Danny Belmont."

Mason looked at him offended. "Please, your drink first. 
Then we'll tell you all you want to know about Danny and 
Brenda and the way things are in our household. But 
please, don't be rude-- it's hot out today. Enjoy your 
lemonade!"

Glen surrendered, picking up the full glass. The two 
Masons watched as he drained it, leaving their own 
drinks alone. He smiled. "Very good! What do you make it 
with?"

Dr. Mason's mouth opened wide in laughter. "Thioridizine 
hydrochloride. Also known as mellaril."

Glen felt woozy. "W-what does that do?" he asked as he 
slumped forward.

The husband and wife laughed. "Oh, you'll find out 
darling-- you'll find out very soon," the woman doctor 
promised.

***

The next day Glen woke to the color white. All around 
him, just clean, antiseptic white. Hospital white. He 
tried to move but he was in a body cast. IVs dripped 
liquid nourishment into his system and he felt totally 
numb. He couldn't feel a thing.

"Good morning. You look pretty good for a corpse!" Mr. 
Mason held his strong chin in his hand, measuring Glen's 
reaction.

"W-w-ot ooo meeen?" Talking was painful and he stopped 
as tears formed in his eyes. 

Mason held up a copy of the local newspaper. A subhead 
read in bold type HIGH SCHOOL MOURNS AS LOCAL GUIDANCE 
COUNSELOR DIES IN AUTO ACCIDENT. 

Glen started to cry as he blurrily made out the text:

Glen Simmons, 20 years old of Bentson, Florida was 
killed Wednesday morning at 11 pm when his Pontiac 
Firebird slammed into a restraining wall on Coast 
Highway 14 and plunged into the ocean two hundred feet 
below. No body has been recovered, but two witnesses, 
Mr. and Dr. Mason of Solitude Lane reported that there 
was no question Simmons was killed in the accident. 

Richard Mason, a prominent local attorney, testified to 
police seeing the car swerve erratically, then driving 
off the road. His wife, Dr. Lesley Mason with the 
Private West Palm Beach Clinic was reported as telling 
police there was no way the driver could have survived 
the fall and subsequent explosion. The police have ruled 
out any foul play and closed the file. No immediate 
relations were known at press time."

He sobbed, which was agony. "Why dooo tis?" he tried to 
scream. Why was he in such agony?

The red-haired woman was by his side with a syringe. 
"Sleep little one," she whispered and the world was 
black again.

***

Days later.

The woman and man were standing over him, arguing.

"It's my turn!" the woman was angrily disputing. "You 
made your picks the last time! Besides," she cooed 
evilly, "I think you'll like my choice."

Was that Brenda standing behind them, wearing the candy 
striper uniform? Where was he anyway? A hospital of some 
kind? What were they doing to him? What had they already 
done to him? The cast was still on his body leaving only 
his arms bare. He felt weak and sensed that he had lost 
a great deal of weight. Strange things were being done 
to him, things that scared him.

"Well, if you have something interesting in mind, 
Lesley. What look do you want for our new pet?"

"The Kelly look of course-- to go with our little 
Brenda! Wouldn't it be wonderful to have them both? I 
want to take advantage of that fine blonde hair of his. 
A wonderful natural feature." She pulled out a scalpel 
and was using it as a pointer, swinging it through the 
air as she described how she wished to alter the subject 
in question. 

"Small breasts but bigger than Brenda's." She put her 
arm around little Brenda and clutched a small breast 
through the striped blouse. She found the nipple through 
the bra underneath and twisted. Brenda cringed and kept 
her lips clamped, but the pain in her eyes called out to 
Glen.

"Yes, maybe a bit bigger. Maybe a pair of nice ripe 
32Bs-- cute, feminine, but not centerfold. Big sensitive 
nipples to play with. A smaller upturned nose. The chin 
has to go-- even if it gets a little weak, it'll still 
work. I want to really thin out the eyebrows, but I want 
to lengthen and thicken the lashes."

Mr. Mason was nodding, in increasing agreement with his 
wife. 

"And the lips-- you'll do the lips, correct?"

She nodded. "Yes, but not as much as Brenda. Some 
moderate collagen should plump up the lips, but let's 
not go Julia Roberts, alright? There's a pretty bow-
shape there that might get ruined. Now, the waist needs 
to go down of course, and the hips go up-- how about 
tagging it at a 32-24-29? A nice, huggable petite figure 
that's almost doll-like. You like?"

Mr. Mason smiled. "I like. Sounds like you're going to 
give this bitch a nice, tight butt. think she'll be 
grateful?

Glen froze as he heard the woman's icy, shrill cackle. 
"After what we do with it, I doubt it honey!"

"And you'll let the hair and nails grow out naturally or 
will you use an accelerator?"

The doctor looked down at Glen. "An accelerator. Don't 
you want everything done as quickly as possible?"

The man nodded. "Absolutely."

Pain. The syringe was sinking into his arm again. 

Glen winced as Dr. Mason slipped the chastity belt over 
his male member. The metal was cold and he shivered. The 
doctor squeezed the microscopic snap with a pair of 
tweezers and it clicked with finality.

Dr. Mason stroked his cheek, running her hand through 
his long, lustrous blonde mane of hair. "Cold, pretty 
baby? Don't worry-- it'll get so hot down there you'll 
never believe it was so cold! The two openings in the 
belt between your legs will allow you to relieve 
yourself-- sitting down of course! Now, stand up."

He obeyed promptly, popping off the hospital bed in the 
Examination Room. Glen had learned it was actually 
underneath the Mason's mansion-- a private medical wing 
devoted entirely to the private experiments and whimsies 
of Dr. Mason. It was where she had turned him into a 
female. There was another room too, but one he had never 
been in. From the windowless, white hospital-style 
bedroom where he was locked every night, he could hear 
things though. Brenda's cries, whippings, Mr. Mason's 
yells, Dr. Mason's screeching laugh. They called it the 
"Play Room."

As Glen stood in front of the mirror, he looked at the 
image that stared back. Was that really him? It was 
still difficult to believe the changes were permanent 
even after a whole month's time. The most obvious change 
was the pair of moderate sized perky high-nippled 
breasts that hung from his chest. He could feel the 
jiggle of the orange-sized spheres as he moved quickly, 
the way the cold air massaged his long nipples into 
small, hard rubies. They weren't huge, but he could 
surely feel their weight as he walked. 

And he walked differently now too. His legs were longer, 
his calves shapelier. His instep had been raised, giving 
him a high stepping toe-first way of walking. His hips 
were wider as well, his butt fuller. The whole affect 
was to give him the light airy prance of a ballerina-- 
or a showgirl.

His hands were soft and callus free as if the heaviest 
object he had ever lifted was a hairbrush. Even the scar 
he had gotten from fishing when he was twelve was gone. 
All that was there now was milky skin as soft as velvet. 
And having nails now was strange. He had to be careful 
how he used his hands, how he picked things up, how he 
held things, otherwise he might break the nails. And 
that was unthinkable. 

His arms seemed more relaxed as he walked if he held 
them up in the air, elbows bent, with hand bent, palms 
down. It also seemed natural for him to rest his hands 
high on his hips, practically on his wispy waist. With 
thumb and index finger resting palm down on them, he 
felt more relaxed than if he just kept them by his side. 
Glen couldn't tell, but he guessed some muscles in his 
body had been lengthened and shorted to produced these 
desired affectations.

Seeing his face for the first time was a frightening 
sensation. He could barely believe that the blue eyes 
were his. Permanent cosmetic contacts, the Doctor had 
explained. His eyebrows, once as thick as caterpillars 
were now razor-thin plucked blonde arcs. In contrast, 
his eyelashes were long and lusciously full-bodied, and 
he now no longer closed his eyes and opened them-- he 
batted his lashes. His mouth was even smaller, his thin 
lips now poutier. 

When he smiled, his expression was like the one they 
made Barbie dolls with-- sexy, surprised and happy all 
at once. His nose was half it's previous size. He had a 
deviated septum, the result of a long ago high school 
tussle, which had given his nose a slight bend to the 
left. But now it was small, upturned and delicate and 
perfect as porcelain. And framing his whole face was his 
light blonde hair, now straight and long enough to reach 
to the tops of his breasts.

As he silently inspected himself, Mr. Mason walked into 
the white hospital room. "Well, there's the pretty lady! 
How are you Kelly?" The older man was leering at his new 
breasts and he held up his hands to shield them. 

"Uh, fine, Daddy," he answered in that new, subdued 
voice of his. Mr. Mason was Daddy and Dr. Mason was 
Mother, he had been told. Brenda was his little sister. 
He was Kelly, a sixteen-year-old girl. A pretty girl who 
must behave. Or Daddy and Mother would punish Kelly. 
Glen had already learned what a hard spanking Daddy 
could give when his Kelly had sassed back. Damn! That 
had hurt!

"We're about to go over the new rules, Father. Please 
sit down-- no, not you Kelly. You just stand there in 
front of the examination mirror and listen carefully."

Glen saw Daddy's eyes on his bare butt reflected in the 
mirror. It made him so uncomfortable. He had been kept 
naked since the operations had ended a week ago and it 
was driving Kelly to the point of nervous exhaustion. He 
hated being kept nude. It made him so vulnerable. All he 
wanted to do was snatch up a sheet and cover himself. 
But he kept quiet and listened to his new parents 
instead.

"Your chastity belt is designed to keep that silly 
little thing of yours under complete control. You can 
function naturally in every way, though it will prevent 
you from playing with yourself. It's ok to blush Kelly-- 
that's the sign of healthy shame we want to instill in 
our girls." She smiled. "You SHOULD be ashamed of that 
little thing-- which is why the chastity belt will 
control it and keep it nice and flat. We won't have it 
ruining your panty lines with big bulges! Got it?"

Glen nodded demurely. For now, he had decided it was 
easier to accept and obey. Minute to minute, hour to 
hour, he told himself. Just survive long enough to get 
out of this nightmare alive.

"As you know, you're a lucky little girl. We've adopted 
you, just like Brenda. Rick has taken care of all the 
legal details. As your parents, we have complete 
responsibility for your upbringing and discipline. As 
you've already discovered, we're very old fashioned when 
it comes to correcting improper behavior. Our opinion is 
that pretty girls should be seen and not heard."

Glen swallowed hard. It was still strange to be think 
Dr. Mason was talking about him, uh, her. 

Mr. Mason-- Daddy-- continued where his wife had left 
off. "It really is too bad for you that you had to 
meddle in our business-- and that you happened to be 
such wonderful material to work with! Small, child-like 
in appearance, no facial hair-- hardly a male at all! 
Much better suited to be a teenage girl-- like Brenda. 
You were right about Brenda. We took her when she was 
about twelve. You see we've always wanted kids. Though 
not for the usual reasons, right Dear?"

His wife, her hands resting in her white lab coat, 
nodded in agreement. She was pleased with her handiwork 
and like a true craftsman kept inspecting the finished 
product, looking for a single flaw. But there were none, 
she knew. Kelly was perfect-- a sexy, sixteen year old 
girl.

"We are extremely successful and up to three years ago, 
thoroughly bored. Money after a certain point means 
nothing," Mr. Mason discoursed. "You grow soft, begin to 
watch too much television. That was how we got hooked on 
Beverly Hills 90210. Have you seen it? As we watched it, 
we grew infatuated with the idea of having those 
beautiful girls to do with as we wished. 

"There's nothing as appealing as a teenage girl coming 
to terms with her sexuality. The experiments with ever-
so-subtly seductive, pretty clothing, the thrill of the 
stolen first kiss, the innocence of the embrace, the 
sweet surrender to the first lover. It has a taste 
fuller than the finer glass of wine. Lesley agreed. She 
had steadily more aroused by the sight of the pretty, 
pampered girls on the show. I think she even brought up 
the idea. Why not capture a runway who looked like one 
of them for a pet? I could handle the legal aspects of 
the capture and Lesley could do the necessary cosmetic 
surgery to turn our new possession into the toy of our 
dreams? 

You have to understand Kelly that Lesley and I are very 
sophisticated when it comes to sex. We have certain 
tastes that aren't exactly mainstream. Because we are 
both very successful, we have come to look at the world 
in a different way. There are those who take and those 
who give. Well, instead of waiting for something to be 
offered, we take it. This goes for our tastes in 
lovemaking."

Glen noticed a burning glow in the man's eyes that 
scared him, scared him more than anything else had so 
far.

"You wouldn't understand this, but people who have power 
like to use it. The exercise of power over those who 
don't have it is an intoxicating experience never lose a 
taste for. Power to correct, power to train and tame, 
power to bend another to your will--"

"Yessss!" Dr. Mason's hands were plunged deep in her 
pockets as her husband continued his dark discourse.

He smiled at his wife. "Well, it is a drug. You get 
hooked. 

Unfortunately, my wife is just as strong willed as I am. 
Stalemate. So we used whores-- a poor substitute at 
best. You never get the sense of true submission. Thus, 
Lesley's idea. I loved it. Between the two of us, we had 
the capability to pull it off. But the more Lesley 
thought about it, the less enthusiastic she was about 
her own idea. I asked her why but she refused to say.

Then it hit me. She was worried. You see, Lesley is as 
jealous as any spouse. As am I. She was concerned about 
the inevitable course of such a plan. What if I became 
too involved with the runaway? If I came to actually 
grow affectionate? So I suggested the perfect 
compromise-- a boy turned into a girl. 

We would leave the male genitals, but the rest would be 
completely transformed into a pretty girl. That way we 
could have our cake and eat it too, so to speak. We 
would have our teenage temptress to train and play with, 
and temptation would be avoided because I'd never, ever 
leave my Lesley to run off with a boy. Not that I would 
ever leave my darling wife, but this solution made her 
feel better and satisfied both our appetites."

He stroked his long, strong chin in smugness for the 
brilliant solution they had concocted. He looked at Glen 
with wide, questioning eyes, but Glen remained silent.

"Since you had to be a nosy little fool, you have no one 
to blame except yourself." She smiled disdainfully, her 
white teeth bared.

"You were kind enough to bring your file regarding 
Brenda, which I've destroyed." Mr. Mason pulled a 
cigarette from a small silver case and lit it with an 
obsidian lighter. He took a long, slow drag on the black 
Dunhill and continued. "And you're well aware of your 
tragic demise. So all the loose ends are tied up, are 
they not?"

Glen continued to clutch his breasts. "You'll punish me 
if I tell you what I really think of all this," he 
answered, his soprano voice wavering with fear.

Mason flicked an ash in an ashtray and shook his head. 
His deep-set eyes were amused. "Go ahead, Kelly. tell us 
what you REALLY think." His wife's hard. cold eyes were 
on him too, interested in what he had to say. 

"My name isn't Kelly. It's Glen Simmons."

The wife looked at her husband. The two laughed. "Your 
name is Kelly Mason," Mr. Mason advised patiently. "Here 
is your birth certificate." He handed a square piece of 
paper to Kelly, who took it quickly so as to keep his 
breasts covered.

He scanned it. It said that he was indeed Kelly Mason, 
that his parents were listed as unknown, that he had 
been born sixteen years ago. It was notarized with the 
appropriate date, the signatures legitimate, the 
document completely legal.

"And this." Mason passed another piece of paper to him. 
It was notification that Kelly had been adopted by the 
Masons two months ago-- about the time of his 
"accident."

"And this." Another piece of paper. This one a death 
certificate for Glen Simmons, dated and stamped by the 
proper authorities. It was signed by Dr. Lesley Mason, 
the reporting physician.

Glen looked up, tears forming. It couldn't be! It was 
impossible to make someone go away and to create someone 
else in their place! It couldn't be done-- could it? "I 
can find witnesses..."

But Mason cut him off. "You can? We did someone 
investigating and WE couldn't find family, friends, 
girlfriend, anyone who might miss you. Are you telling 
me there's someone we missed? Save your breath-- we 
didn't miss anything."

"No one will suspect anything out of the ordinary, Blue 
Eyes." 

Dr. Mason shook her head emphatically. "No one."

"But I'm a man! I have a cock!" Glen shrieked in 
frustration. 

The soprano betrayed him and the couple chuckled lightly 
at the incongruity of the statement and the dulcet tone 
in which it was expressed. "Not really. You'll find your 
chastity belt quite snug, missy. It isn't coming off any 
time soon. As for being a man, well--- I JUST DON'T 
THINK SO!" Mr. Mason boomed in scorn.

Glen looked around craftily and smiled. "Fine. You can't 
watch me all the time. I'll get out of here and then--"

Dr. Mason nodded in agreement. "Naturally you'll be out 
of here. I've kept you here for observation, for your 
own good. But it is time you were allowed to live in the 
house with the rest of us. You have a wonderful bedroom 
all set up for you. Any high school girl would love it."

"And I'll get out of the house then--"

Mr. Mason looked at him dumbfounded. "Of course you 
will, young lady! If you think you're going to laze 
around the house all day, you're plain wrong! You will 
be getting out of the house-- and going to high school."

Glen was confused. "Fine, then when I get to the high 
school, I'll...I'll..." His lips opened and slowly 
closed. His blue eyes widened. 

"You'll what, Kelly? What will you do?" Mason puffed on 
his cigarette. "You'll do nothing, because if you do, 
you'll be sent home, diagnosed with mental problems. And 
if you run away, you'll be brought back here by the 
police. And even if you do get far enough away, what 
then? How far do you think a pretty blonde, blue-eyed 
sixteen year old runaway girl would get on the highway 
or city streets? Hummm?"

Glen clutched his breasts closer.

"So you can put those thoughts out of your pretty empty 
little head. Thinking too much is bad-- very bad. It's a 
habit you'll lose soon enough. Your mother knows how to 
help you forget those pesky thoughts with some special 
medicine you'll be on for a while. Pretty soon you'll be 
the pretty vapid teen you know you are-- and you can 
concentrate on what's really important-- like boys and 
clothes and boys and makeup and boys--"

"And lingerie and boys and jewelry and boys and so on," 
Dr. Mason rattled off. Then she leered. "Not that boys 
are EVERYTHING mind you. There are women too."

Glen's hands had bunched into small, angry fists against 
his heaving bosom. "How can you make me do that? You 
can't--- you can't make me into a girl if I was born a 
male! There's no way! You just want an act and I'm not 
going to pretend to like any of this so you two can get 
off!" He was furious and confused, but he knew this was 
right-- he wasn't gay and he couldn't pretend to get 
into this kinky stuff no matter how much they hurt him. 
He went on with more confidence. "Oh, yeah, you can MAKE 
me do things, you can FORCE me to do things, but you'll 
know it isn't REAL!!!!"

He had hoped the outburst would shatter the perfect 
surface of their arrogance, their utter calmness and the 
everyday-way they were talking about remaking Glen 
Simmons, High School Guidance Counselor into Kelly 
Mason, sixteen year old girl. He would have to make them 
see it just wouldn't work-- but now they were laughing 
at him, laughing deeply and richly, as if he couldn't be 
more wrong about anything.

The redheaded bitch caressed his arm. "Poor Kelly! Never 
heard of mellaril? Why would you?" she reminded herself. 
It's what's responsible for those plump boobs of yours. 
But you're right-- that's just a physical change, gives 
you feminine characteristics externally. The real magic 
is going on inside your metabolism right now. Another 
benefit of having you as part of our little family is 
that I get to make up for an error in judgment." 

Her husband tried to dispel criticism, but Lesley 
overruled him with a wagging finger. "Please Rick, 
don't. I made a mistake with Brenda. I'll admit that. 
But with Kelly, I can make up for it." She turned back 
to Glen.

"For the last two months, every since your untimely 
"accident," your system has been saturated with 
estradiol. It's a high performance female sex hormone. 
Brenda was induced with the same treatment. She was 
given the exact amount of sex hormones a normal girl her 
age would have. Because of the wonder of biochemistry, 
I've implanted you, like I did with Brenda, with a 
device that will convert your testosterone into 
estradiol. However, instead of giving you the natural 
level of hormones as we did with Brenda, you'll produce 
sex hormones at a rate fifty percent higher than the 
level found in natural-born teenage females."

Rick Mason hooked his finger in his belt, grinning 
wolfishly. "You see, even though Brenda's system carries 
the hormones, since they are only average level, she 
hasn't been as, shall we say, stimulated as we'd like 
her to be. When we decided we wanted her to have the 
characteristics of a young teenage girl, we forgot that 
along with curiosity about sex, there would also be fear 
and confusion. Brenda's too prim and proper for our 
tastes."

"Yes, and once the metabolism has been set, you can't 
screw around with the biochemical mix," Lesley the 
doctor elaborated. "Brenda behaves just like a normal 
fourteen year old girl would-- curious but scared, coy 
and immature. Not what we want when it comes time for 
frolics in the Play Room. But with the amount of 
Estradiol you've been given, we're sure you'll be able 
to help us train Brenda the way we want her to behave 
for us."

He didn't like the sound of this. "Estradiol? What will 
it do to me?" he asked feebly. He dreaded that he might 
guess the answer if not the specifics.

Mr. Mason put out his cigarette, letting his wife 
answer. He was so deliberate in all his actions, thought 
Glen. As if he knew every objection I could raise before 
I said a thing.

The doctor's tongue slipped in and out of her mouth as 
she explained, as if savoring word after delicious word. 
"It will make you terribly insecure, very vain, 
extremely flighty. Your attention span will be very 
short and you'll become bored with anything that 
requires too much thinking. You'll be overly preoccupied 
with your appearance at all times. You'll be led by your 
emotions, a spoiled brat one minute, a darling angel the 
next. You'll find yourself unable to make decisions for 
yourself and you'll be drawn to strength, since you'll 
be so naturally dependent and submissive. In other 
words, you'll exhibit every stereotypical female trait 
exaggerated by fifty percent. And the estradiol will 
have one more dramatic affect."

"What? Please tell me!" begged Glen. 

She licked her lips before answering. "You'll be a very, 
very horny young lady. Come on, Rick, let's take Kelly 
to her new room."

Glen was shown to the bedroom by his new 'parents.' He 
gloomily looked around. It was decorated entirely in 
pink-- pink plush carpeting; a big pink double bed, with 
two fluffy pillows and a smiling oversized teddy bear; a 
pink vanity replete with lipsticks, mascaras, perfumes, 
foundations, brushes, styling pins and rollers; a pink 
painted bookshelf filled with brand new paperbacks, all 
of them romance novels; a pink skirted nightstand with a 
stack of magazines like Cosmopolitan, Teen Beat, Soap 
Opera Digest, and a number of catalogs from Talbot's, 
Laura Ashely, Victoria's Secret and more; a pink 
Princess phone; a pink plastic boom box with a pre-
selected music library of Madonna, Janet Jackson, 
Whitney Houston, and Wilson Philips CDs; a pink lamp in 
the shape of a ballerina; and a single window adorned 
with pink curtains. 

On the wall were two posters. One was full of flowers 
and flowing feminine script. It repeated a trite poem 
about setting love free and it would come back to you. 
Another was a full-length poster of Fabio, the romance 
novel cover model and teen heartthrob. The requisite 
Barbie doll rested on a bookcase shelf watching over all 
with her empty and pleasing smile. A Minnie Mouse clock 
clicked away the minutes and hours on the wall.

"You'll be very happy here, Kelly." Mr. Mason's -- 
Daddy's-- hand was on his bare ass and he hated it.

"And you'll finally be allowed to wear clothes. Isn't 
that exciting? Why don't you play dress up by yourself 
and get used to your new home, Kelly. Your father and I 
will be down in the Play Room with Brenda." She rubbed 
her palm against her thigh. "She's been a very naughty 
girl and needs to be punished." The door was shut, 
leaving him alone.

He was relieved. Privacy. It was the first time he had 
enjoyed privacy in two months. And clothes! He never 
realized how much you could miss clothes! He opened the 
dresser. Naturally-- girls' underwear. Bras, panties, 
thigh high stockings and nighties. He opened the next 
drawer. Tops-- but all in bright or pastel colors. He 
opened the bottom drawer-- shorts, exercise outfits and 
bathing suits. None of it in the least boy-like. 

He turned and opened the closet. Inside hung a number of 
short-skirted dresses, frocks and miniskirts. There was 
even a little black cocktail dress. "Is that when I get 
invited to school dances?" he thought disgustedly. On 
the floor were a number of shoes-- many being three inch 
heels of varying fashion colors. In addition, there were 
a pair of open-toed sandals and a pair of pink Reebok 
running shoes.

He looked out the window, down at the wide luxuriant 
green lawn and the hedges that bounded the huge estate. 
They couldn't make him put these clothes on. And yet he 
wanted to cover his body. Reluctantly he returned to the 
dresser. He pulled out a light blue cotton bra and 
slipped it on. It gently lifted and separated his 32B 
breasts, offering some girlish cleavage above the 
flowery trimming that decorated the demi-cup. 

He hated the pleasant way it made him feel. He had to 
resist. But as he stepped into the matching Calvin Klein 
blue thong panties, he couldn't help the wave of delight 
he felt as the snug garment crept between and up his 
legs. He had to remember he was a male, a twenty-year-
old male, not some dopey sixteen-year-old kid. But his 
resistance crumbled as he slipped on the white cotton 
half-blouse that bared his trim, flat tummy, feeling the 
tightness over his breasts as he buttoned up. He picked 
out the only pair of jeans in the closet, determined not 
to wear a skirt, no matter what.

But as he held up the pair of No Excuses jeans, he 
realized why the calves had zippers. The designer jeans 
were so tight, he had to unzip the calves, then get on 
his back and try to jam himself into the legs. He 
managed to get them half in and stood up carefully. He 
bounced up and down as he forced his already small butt 
into the even tighter jeans. 

At last he was able to get them in and triumphantly 
zipped the zipper. With the air of a natural gesture, 
his hands found their familiar perch on his hips. The 
mirror showed a sassy, hot to trot sixteen year old with 
pouty lips and smoldering blue eyes. But that wasn't the 
reality, Glen reminded himself frantically. Fishing 
though the shoes, he slipped on the pink running shoes.

"Very pretty, Blue Eyes." It was the Masons. They were 
back. But they weren't alone. Mr. Mason yanked a leash 
and Brenda came tumbling to the floor behind him. "See 
your new big sister, missy?"

Brenda looked up, eyes swollen with tears. The leash was 
attached to a pair of handcuffs and allowed Mr. Mason to 
drag the boy-girl behind him. The fourteen year old wore 
only a pair of white bikini panties and a training bra. 
The back of his thighs were red as if from being hit 
with a flat object repeatedly. 

"Brenda has been a naughty little girl, Kelly. It seems 
your sister isn't as interested as she should be in her 
housekeeping duties. Naughty girl!" Mason screamed at 
the girl. 

Brenda groveled on the floor before the two adults. 
"Please! No more! Please! I won't do it again!" She 
pressed her cheek against Lesley Mason's high-heeled 
shoe pathetically.

Mrs. Mason rubbed her shoe across the boy-girls cheek 
and Brenda obediently began to lick it. "This is what 
happens with only children," she spoke to her husband. 
"They get spoiled like Brenda. You know, I think having 
a big sister like Kelly around will do wonders for 
teaching Brenda how to act like a proper young lady."

Mr. Mason concurred. "Kelly, you may do whatever girls 
do when they are alone. Your mother and I need to 
continue with Brenda's discipline-- in our bedroom."

Brenda looked up. Kelly noticed the boy-girl shaking as 
he struggled to his feet. The door was shut and Glen was 
left only to wonder about the many shocking shouts and 
cries he heard from the bedroom in the following hours.

***

Rick Mason heard the door shut first. "The girls are 
home, Darling. It's Homework Time."

Lesley Mason looked up. She had been reading a medical 
journal article, which she carefully bookmarked and 
closed. Languidly she rose to follow her husband, who 
was already downstairs ordering the girls to come to the 
Play Room.

She walked in to find them standing, heads down, for 
their next instruction. The Play Room was her idea. As a 
creator and shaper by training, she had put much of her 
imagination in its design. The immediate impression was 
dungeon-like. She preferred the dark, Gothic stony look, 
with the fireplace for her and her husband's love games. 
It put everyone involved in the proper frame of mind. 

Two sets of manacles hung from the ceiling, which were 
easily controlled by a simple winch. A stockade and 
sawhorse sat ready for use on the side of the dark, 
barely-lit room. Whips, crops, and canes of all sizes 
and thickness waited on wall brackets for hard hands to 
wield them. A cage waited for an insolent prisoner in 
the other corner. Lesley's favorite prop was a device 
they had bought commercially-- a kind of saddle-seat 
mount from which protruded a detachable dildo. Oh she 
loved that toy!

Rick lit the fireplace and brought it to a roar with the 
bellows. 

"Strip down, sluts. You first Brenda."

The little brunette looked down and though shivering 
with fright, kicked off her heels. Unsteadily, he pulled 
off his ribbed pink tank top, exposing his cotton bra. 
At fourteen and a half, Brenda had just been allowed to 
graduate from a training bra to the real thing, even 
though his breasts hadn't grown, nor would they ever 
grow any bigger. Gingerly he unzipped his denim 
miniskirt. Wriggling out of it, he waited in only his 
pink cotton softcup bra with its thin straps and the 
matching pink cotton bikini panties.

"Now Kelly."

With a saucy smile, the sixteen and a half year old 
kicked off his red high heels and pulled off his midriff 
t-shirt. It was tight and read "Boy Toy" on the front 
and back. Underneath, his healthy pert bust was 
supported by a red lace half-bra, which he thrust out 
proudly. Kelly loved his breasts, the way the boys and 
male teachers at school looked at them, the way he could 
make them jiggle to get attention. 

Sinuously, he pulled down her neon green spandex bike 
shorts to reveal the red lace thong panty. It had been a 
gift from Daddy for being such a good girl in helping to 
slut-train his little sister Brenda. He loved them-- 
they made him feel like such a pampered princess!

Months ago, Kelly had hated to wear the revealing, 
provocative clothing he wore now. He had made up his 
mind to resist the temptations of the feminine trap he 
was in. He was a male, a twenty-year-old man. Panties 
and bras couldn't change that and he wouldn't accept 
them as natural. But slowly his feelings changed. Not 
that he liked what had happened to him-- he missed the 
freedom being a man had given him. 

Everything feminine was such a prison-- tight clothes, 
high heels, mandatory make-up, everything. And the dull 
hot throb that emanated from the chastity belt reminded 
him constantly that he had born a male. It was so 
frustrating never to be able to scratch the itch below, 
the itch that was a curse because the things that his 
adoptive parents did to him always kept it burning. 

But his attitude had changed. It wasn't the result of 
the punishments he earned from time to time. It wasn't 
the training either. It was from inside. It was the 
creep in his spine that rose when he realized he was 
becoming very good at dressing up, the silent scream 
from knowing he blushed when Daddy complimented him, the 
anguish that raged impotently when he began to pick and 
choose from his growing lingerie collection and get 
turned on, even against his will.

And then his escape plans began to dissolve in gauzy 
daydreams. His instincts told him if he could talk to 
the right people, have them check his fingerprints or 
dental records, then... But a day would pass and these 
thoughts would be lost. And in trying to rediscover 
them, he found that thinking was just too hard, too 
exhausting, too frustrating. Instead of taking firm 
shapes, his thoughts grew fuzzy and vague, like strands 
of cotton candy that dissolved at the merest touch. He 
gave up thoughts of escape in favor of less complicated, 
simpler things like his romance novels and soap operas, 
what to wear and what color to paint his nails.

Then school had started. It was strange being a student 
in the same school he had once been a faculty member of. 
Not that he any longer remembered the skills or 
education he had once had. Today Kelly was no more able 
to be a guidance counselor than he was a rocket 
scientist! Luckily, he wasn't encumbered with college 
prep courses. 

Like Brenda, his parents had enrolled him in general 
overview courses that wouldn't tax his mental abilities. 
The only courses he had to worry about grades in were 
Home Economics and Gym class. Home Ec was important 
because he was responsible for household cooking and 
cleaning, with Brenda as his helper. Gym was important 
because it kept him in shape, though aerobics at home 
were also expected. 

School itself was a nervous blur for Brenda. The young 
boy-girl was jumpy and still unable to handle the 
attention his ripening feminine body and teasing clothes 
attracted from boys. But for Kelly, being a pretty high 
school sophomore was wonderful. 

In the clothes he wore now and the nubile body he 
sported, he did indeed resemble the Kelly Taylor 
character from the Beverly Hills 90210 series. Sweet, 
tarty thoughts crossed his mind as he swung his hips in 
the tiny red miniskirt for the boys behind him. He began 
to find power over boys in the smallest ways-- by 
bending over to reveal some pink cleavage, to toy with a 
stray bra strap, to giggle cutely at their silly jokes, 
to intently listen, eyeing them dreamily as they spoke 
to him. 

He wasn't permitted a boyfriend by his parents. Kelly 
was reserved for their use alone. Whenever he was asked 
out on a date, Kelly had learned to answer that there 
was a boyfriend who was in the Marines, so, gosh no it 
wouldn't be possible for Kelly to cheat on him, would 
it? But if Kelly wasn't already involved, and if the 
mysterious Marine ever dumped Kelly, could she take a 
rain check and call the boy up? This strategy of 
assuaging each boy's ego kept them from thinking the 
pretty blonde was "stuck up." 

He was allowed to flirt, though, and flirt he did, with 
the boys he was beginning to think of more and more as 
cute and handsome. Instead of paying attention to the 
teacher, Kelly would silently choose a boy in a 
classroom and begin to tease him, allowing the lucky boy 
quick peeks of the bright polyester or lace panties he 
wore as he slowly crossed his legs under the desk. Such 
behavior earned him the reputation of a slut, which he 
both resented and accepted. Kelly was Kelly-- he 
couldn't help what he had been turned into.

Daddy sat in the big armchair as Mother took over the 
Home Work lesson. She had stripped down to her lingerie-
- a black lace bra, black panties and high heels. Her 
pale skin and her red hair made her a most striking 
woman. "Well, my pretties, let's begin your lesson today 
where we left off last night. Brenda, down on your 
knees. Now Kelly, you too-- but face your little 
sister."

The two boy-girls waited, eyes still downcast. Kelly 
generally didn't mind these sessions, except the painful 
parts of course, but Brenda did not. He was still too 
much of a prudish little girl for. It was one of the 
reasons he had to help slut-train Brenda for their 
parents. Kelly was the perfect slut, Daddy said. 

"Now, Kelly, lean forward and kiss Brenda. Show her how 
to French kiss. Go on-- get to it!" Mother had chosen a 
riding crop from the arsenal of disciplinary implements 
and waved it threateningly.

Everyday after school there was a predetermined Homework 
Lesson. Instruction was always held in the Play Room by 
Daddy and Mother. Sometimes others came to watch too, 
men and women who drank wine and watched. Monday's 
Homework Lessons always started with French kissing and 
foreplay. Tuesday was for breast and nipple play, 
Wednesday was dedicated to striptease practice, Thursday 
oral and body worship, and Friday was for sextoy 
lessons, and the weekend was whatever Daddy and Mother 
decided. Fridays made Kelly nervous. Mother and Daddy 
had such a varied dildo collection and some hurt so 
much. But today was French kissing and Kelly liked 
French kissing a lot. 

Kelly obeyed Mother's instruction, letting his tongue 
sink deep into the fourteen-year-old's soft mouth. He 
rolled it around, exploring it even as Brenda's own 
tongue shyly retreated before its onslaught.

SWAT! "Brenda! Show Big Sister you love her back! Go on! 

This is how you learn!"

Brenda obeyed, and the two were soon in a passionate 
lesbian tongue lock. Lesley looked up. Rick had pulled 
off his shirt and was unzipping his pants. She watched 
the boy-girls as they hungrily sought each other's 
mouths for a good twenty minutes. Then she ordered them 
to stop.

Pettishly Kelly withdrew his tongue from Brenda's mouth. 
The younger teen's small mouth closed in an instant.

"Now Kelly I want you to instruct Brenda how to make out 
with a boy. Pretend you're a boy on a date with Brenda. 
Brenda, you're a little slut for your man, so don't 
resist, Kelly, as the boy, you know that Brenda is easy, 
so you can take second base. Got it?"

Kelly licked his lips and nodded. 

"Go on, then."

Kelly wrapped his arms around Brenda and the brassiered 
chests of the two sissified boys touched electrically. 
"Bren, honey, stick your titties out-- boys like that! 
Isn't that right Mother?"

Lesley patted his long blonde hair. "You're slut reading 
is going well, I can tell." 

Kelly's full lips were curled into a tight, smug smile. 
At first, he hadn't liked his slut reading. Mother had 
made such an embarrassing deal over it--marking the 
articles in Cosmo and New Woman for him to read. They 
were all sex advice articles on how to make your man 
feel good in bed, ways to flirt and dress provocatively. 
He hadn't paid much attention and found them disgusting. 
But after a few "pop quizzes" and some smarting 
spankings, Kelly got the hint. 

He began to devour the articles. Then came the 
subscription to Playgirl that now came regularly in her 
name. He was allowed to read it by himself, but Mother's 
questions made it clear he was expected to absorb the 
contents of every issue completely, condom ads included. 
He now kept the stack of dog-eared Playgirls by his 
nightstand. Recently, Daddy had taken Kelly on lap and 
had him read letters from Penthouse aloud for he and 
Mother, especially the letters from female writers. It 
always got Daddy in a very, very good mood when Kelly 
did this well. 

"Go on, Kelly.," Mother snapped. "Brenda, follow your 
sister's advice-- she' s only trying to help you be a 
better slut."

Brenda stuck his tiny chest out. Kelly's small hands 
unwrapped themselves and cupped the small offering, 
squeezing the nipples. "Moan whenever I touch you 
Brenda-- that way a boy knows you like what he's doing!" 
Kelly had read this in a number of times in the Advice 
Column in Playgirl.

Brenda began to moan softly as Kelly unhooked the 
juvenile bra. Closing his eyes, he began to buck against 
his Big Sis as Kelly took hold of the flesh buds. "Is 
that right Kelly? Last time you said boys like this."

Kelly gave him a full kiss on the lips. "Yes, Little 
Sister, that's good, very good."

Lesley grinned at Rick. "Our daughters are a couple of 
lezzies, dear. What do you think?"

Rick stood up abruptly. "Get the bitches on their 
fours," he ordered.

Kelly and Brenda paused. Kelly put on a counterfeit 
smile. "Oh, do me Daddy! Please, pretty please!?! Do me-
- you said I'm your favorite slut!" He hunched down on 
his elbows and offered his panty-thonged backside up for 
anal rape. 

But Daddy crooked his finger at Brenda. "Come here you 
little slut and get me wet."

Kelly turned around. "Please Daddy! Last time you really 
hurt her! Please- I like it and she doesn't! Do me!" But 
all he got was a vicious slap from Lesley.

"I'll do you pretty baby-- don't worry. Your hole will 
get filled. 

Now get back down on your fours facing Brenda."

"Brenda, you're going to be Daddy's little cocksucker, 
aren't you? You little bitch-- you know how much you 
love the taste of my cum! And if you so much as let your 
braces scratch my cock-- even a little-- you'll get a 
beating you won't forget!" With that warning, Rick 
jammed his cock down the fourteen year old's throat, 
cruelly filling the tight orifice. Using his ponytail as 
a ripcord, he pulled the young teen up and down to 
ensure equal devotion to the entire length of his shaft. 
Finally he pulled the ponytail down, freeing Brenda's 
mouth with a pop. The red-faced teen looked up in 
terror.

"Please Daddy! It hurts! It hurts so much!" As he 
begged, he clutched her breasts, crossing his legs 
desperately.

Without answering, he took the ponytail again and yanked 
his face down to the floor. "Stick your ass up in the 
air like a good girl or I'll whip it off of you!"

A whimper, then the pink bikini'ed butt was pulled up 
and raised for Mason's cruel usage. Kelly looked at his 
slave sister in submission , waiting for his own use. 
Behind him, he felt Mother's hands commanding his own 
hips to raise. Then the nails scraping around the red 
lace thong, yanking it down. Then the cold tip of the 
thick plastic strap-on phallus against his anal rosebud. 

No lubricant, no gentleness, just a mighty heave and 
Kelly was filled with the missile. He looked at his poor 
little sister. Brenda had dissolved into tears as Daddy 
rammed the helpless rag doll of a boy-girl from behind. 
He could see the eyes open wide in fear and agony then 
close as he pulled back, then repeated their opening.

"Let the lezzies love one another, Lesley!" Daddy 
commanded. Kelly could feel his hips being reamed and 
driven forward toward Brenda, his companion in rape. 
Their faces were forced forward, nose-to-nose.

"Go on-- make out, girlies! Make kissy face for us! 
Kelly, tell your little sister how to be a good piece of 
ass for Daddy!" Daddy ordered. 

Kelly nudged his tongue in Brenda's mouth. Brenda limply 
responded when Daddy landed a hard slap on his bare 
thigh. 

"Bren, Daddy likes it when you buck your hips back in 
rhythm to his. Go on, do it!"

The fourteen year old looked at his slave sister in 
misery. "Kel, it hurts so much! It hurts me soooo much!"

"Just do it, Brenda! Sluts like us buck our hips to our 
lovers' rhythm. Come on, I know you can do it!"

And Brenda gasped, and obeyed. Slowly he was picking up 
the rhythm of his adoptive father's rape and responding 
to it. Daddy grunted in approval. He pushed Brenda 
forward again, satisfied. Even as the two were being 
brutally taken from behind, they made soft lesbian 
kissing love, older boy-sister to younger boy-sister, 
teens in gentle heat. 

Kelly knew Daddy had shot his hot jism into Brenda as he 
gasped for breath and surged forward. Mother always took 
longer. Kelly threw his hips into overdrive, rocking 
back and forth like a pro. Mother responded by stepping 
up her thrusts till she had overtaken Kelly. Then like a 
rider breaking in a mount, she slowly finished off, 
pulling out of an exhausted Kelly.

"Clean me off girlie," Mother ordered. Kelly scrambled 
to his knees and took the gooey long black plastic cock, 
deep-throating it. He wrapped her lips tightly against 
the side. Dildos and strap-ons had to be cleaned 
flawlessly and there had been many lessons in doing it. 
Kelly was good-- a natural cocksucker, Daddy called him, 
but Brenda was still learning.

"Owww! Stupid little slut!" Kelly looked over. Brenda 
had been put to the same task as he had, but his little 
sister had made some mistake. Mother yanked Kelly's 
blonde mane like a leash to his own cocksucking duties.

"Damn bitch! You got my hair caught in your braces! 
Arghhh!" Daddy backhanded Brenda, wrenching his metal 
mouth free from his cock. He looked up, quivering.

"I'm sorry Daddy!" he yelped, but it was too late. He 
hauled the fourteen-year-old up by his hands and locked 
his wrists in the manacles. Slowly he raised the winch 
up, lifting the teen onto his tiptoes. With relish, he 
picked out a paddle, testing it against his palm.

"I'll teach you to be so careless, Brenda!" He swung the 
paddle back and landed it squarely on his cupcake 
asscheeks. Brenda screamed but the soundproofed walls 
retained the music of his agony within the room. Again 
and again the paddle fell.

Kelly could feel his mistress'es interest switch to the 
helpless boy-girl's punishment. He continued to lap the 
plastic dildo clean, hoping to avoid displeasing Mother 
the way Brenda had displeased Daddy. His chin was 
cupped. Mother unbuckled the strap-on.

"I want to watch Brenda get what's coming to her. Come 
with me-- on your fours, bitch!" Mother walked to the 
armchair Daddy had been sitting in earlier. Kelly 
followed her, a kitten following its mistress. She sat 
down, spreading her legs. With easy finesse, she hooked 
her thumb in the band of her black panty and pulled the 
dainty thing off. Beneath, her bright-red haired cleft 
was wet and sparkling.

"Pleasure me, Blue Eyes. Pleasure me well. Or you'll get 
what Brenda is getting." She spread her thighs wide open 
and reclined with a dry smile. 

Kelly carefully nuzzled his face to the older woman's 
sex and began to lick the furry edgings of Mrs. Mason's 
pussy. He had been trained how to do this and knew 
precisely where and how long to lick. As Brenda whined 
for mercy from Daddy, he reminded himself that he must 
teach Brenda how to be a cuntlapper. It would be an 
important slut skill for his lil sis to know! 

Mother stroked his hair now almost appreciatively and he 
renewed his oral worship, happy to keep the woman happy. 
After a good thirty minutes, throughout which she filled 
Kelly's mouth twice with her stickiness, Dr. Lesley 
Mason pushed the pretty blonde away. She looked for 
something on the floor, found it and picked it up with 
toes. It was her discarded black lace panties.

"Clean the crotch. A sweet treat for a good little 
bitch!" She patted Kelly on the head and the blonde 
dutifully spread the panty crotch face up and began to 
give it long, loving licks-- tasting with each his 
adoptive mother's love juice. 

Brenda's manacles had been lowered so that he now 
crouched on his knees in front of Rick Mason. He was 
crying hysterically, promising to be a good slut for 
Daddy. "Please don't hit me any more!" he screeched.

Daddy looked down at the teen boy-girl. "See what a good 
girl Kelly is, Brenda? Why can't you be more like her? 
She how she likes being a sexy bimbo slut now? Remember 
how at first she didn't?"

"Yes, Daddy! Please don't hurt me anymore!" he pleaded 
manically.

He slapped her and continued. "Quiet, wench. Now listen. 
Kelly is going to be giving you more and more slut 
lessons and I expect you to pay close attention-- 
UNDERSTAND?"

He nodded dumbly.

"Good. Now I want you to kiss your Daddy's balls-- AND 
DON'T YOU DARE SCRATCH THEM WITH YOUR BRACES!"

Brenda bent his head and began the humiliating task, 
happy just not to be further punished. He offered loving 
adoration to each of his Daddy's sweaty, hairy balls as 
he held Brenda's black ponytail as a rein. 

"That's my sexy little girlie! Inside those balls I'm 
making cum just for my Brenda-girl to drink! Wouldn't 
you like a nice sticky mouthful of Daddy's cum?"

Brenda nodded, his tongue too busy to answer. His cock 
was rising again and Daddy rubbed it against the teen's 
pale face. Suddenly, he drew the ponytail back and aimed 
the cock at Brenda's bare chest. In a second, Brenda's 
two small bubbles were covered with a sheet of the 
spunk. 

"Is Kelly done cleaning your panties, Lesley? I have a 
chore for her."

Mother snapped her fingers and Kelly looked up. "Your 
Daddy has a job for you." 

Rick Mason pointed at Brenda's small cum coated titties. 

"Clean your sister's little hooters off, girlie. Milk 
them good."

Kelly nodded sweetly. He wasn't about to get Daddy mad 
at her by sassing. Besides cum wasn't so bad tasting. He 
lowered his lips to Brenda's nipple and began to tongue 
off the salty snack. As he did, Brenda began to moan in 
his bondage, pushing his boobs lewdly forward, greedy 
for more sisterly attention. The parents watched as the 
older teen boy-girl made love to the other's small 
feminine mounds.  

"Sweet pets, aren't they Rick?" his wife asked. Her 
husband nodded. "And they thought they were boys. Why 
they're the cutest little teenage bimbos I've ever seen. 
Brenda-- so innocent! And Kelly-- so horny!"

That night they were told that they would be rewarded 
for doing such a good job on their "homework" by being 
allowed to sleep with each other. It was a wonderful 
treat, thought Kelly as he watched his younger sister 
get ready for bed. The brunette had come to find Kelly 
his best friend, so much smarter and more sophisticated. 
Why, Kelly got to wear the prettiest lace panties and 
bras, which he wore on those big breasts of his! If he 
had to be a girl and have an older sister, he was glad 
it was Kelly! And he just loved cuddling with his pretty 
older sis too. 

"Kelly," he asked, "what do you want your Lil Sis in?" 
He knew he was teasing, but couldn't help it. 

Kelly had given him a "you know better than that" look. 
"Don't be such a bitch, Bren! You know how sexy you look 
in your red panties. And don't forget your bra! You know 
Daddy and Mother want your breasts to get as much shape 
and lift as they can. They're so small and dainty they 
need to be in a bra as much as they can. You can't keep 
not wearing your bra to bed-- they'll find out and 
punish you!"

He pouted and agreed, slipping on at least a cute pink 
colored bra for his sissy sister-lover. Then slipping on 
his sister's preferred red thong panties, he presented 
himself. "Like me?"

Kelly smiled at his sis. He had come to love the younger 
boy-girl and tried to protect him as much as he had been 
able. It was so hard when Kelly also had to help teach 
him all the degrading things their adoptive parents 
required of them. At least tonight they could find peace 
in each other's arms. And his little lover looked just 
so hot in his cotton undies!

"I just can't wait to start!" he answered impishly. 

Hand in hand, they minced bare foot into Kelly's room. 
Inside they found Daddy and Mother waiting. Daddy held a 
video recorder.

"Are you both ready?" Mother demanded.

Kelly nodded his head. "I'm not wearing anything under 
my robe. If that's ok"

Daddy put the camera down. "Put on something very sexy 
for your sister. Something she's not old enough to wear 
but you are. Put on one of the things I bought you for 
Valentine's Day. That should emphasize the age 
difference."

Dully, Kelly opened his dresser. He pulled out a black 
lace garter belt, black lace thong panties and a black 
lace push-up bra. He held them up for approval. Daddy 
had bought them for Kelly not longer after the Estradiol 
had really begun to kick in-- when Kelly had turned from 
the sullen, withdrawn prisoner into the hot-blooded 
young sexpot. After that Daddy and Mother had given him 
lots of pretty things to wear for them. 

"Perfect. Put them on. Black heels too," he was 
instructed.

As he donned the lingerie, he heard Mother speak into 
the microphone. "Lesbian Lessons For Little Sister, 
testing."

Brenda was told to get under the covers. "Hug the teddy 
bear and pretend you're dreaming of a boyfriend," he was 
told by Daddy. Brenda did as he was told as the camera 
began to capture the moment.

Mother snapped her fingers and Kelly quickly pranced in 
the heels to her side. "We're going to turn your make-
out into a movie for our friends. You two are going to 
be movie stars."

Kelly smiled. He knew he was supposed to smile so he 
did, but he didn't feel it inside. He felt dirty and 
excited at the same time.

"Now you're going to surprise little Brenda there in 
bed. Use your imagination and show us what a slut you 
are for her." Mother was so excited.

"Yes, do Kelly-- or I'll take you over my knee for sure. 
Understand?" Daddy threatened from behind the video 
camera. 

He nodded with a bright bimbo smile . "Oh, yes Daddy! 
I'll try to do a super job!" 

The camera whirred on. Kelly crept up to the bedside and 
gently took the teddy bear from the sleeping boy-girl. 
Brenda looked up and he held his finger to his sensuous 
lips. 

"SSSSHHH or our parents will hear!" he whispered. "Do 
you think I'm pretty?"

Brenda smiled wide and nodded. 

"Can I get into bed with you?" he asked and again Brenda 
nodded.

Kelly snuggled in the bed and threw off the covers. 
"Like my pretty undies, Bren?" he purred.

Brenda nodded. "Do you like mine?" He thrust out her 
little boobed-filled bra. Clearly the filming didn't 
matter to him. He wanted to be with his older slave 
sister regardless.

Kelly played with the bra's little shoulder strap. 
"Cute! What's your bra size, Brenda?"

"Just a 32AAA, Kelly. But I'm only fourteen and a half. 

Maybe they'll grow out. What size are yours?"

Kelly was getting into his role now. "32B. Say, do you 
know what a lesbian is Bren?"

Brenda shook his head. "No Kelly."

Kelly stroked his sister's breasts through the soft 
cotton cup. "It's when a girl wants to be with another 
girl, like the way she might be with a boy."

Brenda blushed. "I've never been with a boy, Kelly. Just 
Daddy."

The blonde was now stroking his little sister's thigh. 
"Want to be my girlfriend, Brenda?"

Brenda coyly smiled. "Will you teach me how Kelly?"

Kelly answered by pulled down Brenda's bra straps then 
leaning forward to unhook it. Then he leaned forward to 
snuggle his own black laced tits against his young 
sister's bare nipples. Like magic the nipples snapped to 
attention under the older boy-girl's ministrations.

"You're hot for me, Bren-- see your boobies?" Then he 
unhooked his own bra and the two began a chest-to-chest 
dry hump that lasted for what seemed hours. "See how 
much I love you little sister? Your little titties? Your 
pretty mouth? I love you Brenda Mason! If I could, I'd 
keep you as mine, all mine!" And with that, Daddy and 
Mother rose, the camera off.

"Good job girlies. Now Brenda, off to your bed little 
one. Kelly, lights out. Tomorrow is a school day." 
Mother and Daddy left the two to their respective 
slumber.

And as Kelly nodded off to sleep, he dreamed he was a 
beautiful butterfly kept in a jar by a man and a woman. 
Would they ever let him out of the jar? As he dreamed, 
tears like rain made his pillow wet. In the morning he 
would forget, but for know he knew he was the pretty 
butterfly in a jar that would never be anything other 
than pretty, weak and possessed. The tears were shed for 
a long time before he finally drifted to a nocturnal 
peace.

THE END

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author 
does not condone the described behavior in real life in 
anyway shape or form. Anyone tempted to act out any of 
the scenarios in this story; should seriously consider 
seeking professional help.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 7