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Child's Play
by Marlissa (evil@bay.com) 

***

The smile that Mel Taylor gave Terry Owens made her 
extremely uncomfortable. Something about that kid that 
was no good. (MF, nc, mc)

***

"Hi Terry." 

"That's 'Ms. Owens' to you young man." She sounded 
liked an affronted old lady and immediately wished she 
hadn't responded so peevishly. At thirty-five, Terry 
wasn't exactly ancient. True she was a single mom of a 
seventeen year old, but she kept herself in good shape, 
working out at the gym when she could. Anyway, she 
certainly didn't think of herself as old-- even if the 
student body of Regis Academy might not agree. 

Mel threw her a shrug that said, "Whatever." 

"How's Janine?" She didn't like the way his weird light 
blue eyes danced as he asked about her daughter, like 
him a member of the junior class at Regis Academy. 

Terry turned and aimed an evil eye at the teenager. 
"She better be in class-- like you, young man. Now get 
moving-- before I have Mr. Donovan the headmaster give 
you some encouragement!" She started to rise and 
pointed at the closed door of the Headmaster's Office, 
which as the School Secretary Terry guarded. 

He smiled sidewise, then...

Terry found herself sitting down again. She was 
blinking rapidly and her forehead was humid with 
perspiration. "Ahhh, you get going to class now." 

The boy drop his gaze and sauntered out of the 
Administration Office just as Third Period bell rang. 

She was lightheaded. Too much coffee? Too much work. 
She HAD thrown herself into the new job as Donovan's 
right hand at Regis Academy completely and was spending 
long hours trying to make sense of the filing system 
that Mrs. Gibbons, the recently retired Regis fixture, 
had left her. Likewise the accounting procedures which 
she was revamping and the coursework review required of 
Donovan. demanded high concentration. But it was 
challenging work, offering the kind of opportunity few 
high school graduates ever saw these days. 

Probably she was overworking as a way of saying thank-
you to Donovan and Regis Academy. She was determined to 
prove to them that the chance that they had taken with 
an out-of-town single mother down on her luck and 
nearly living in her car was a decision they wouldn't 
regret. God knows, things were better now than they had 
been in the months following Jim's exit stage-right 
from their miserable and often abusive marriage. She-- 
and Janine-- were on their feet now, thanks to Donovan 
and Regis Academy. 

The exhaustion worried her though. Maybe she was 
working out too much. Perhaps she was a bit fanatical 
with her workouts. At 5" 5' and 120 pounds, she 
probably overdid it. She had never been body conscious 
during her marriage-- there seemed little need to since 
Jim was always running around on the side anyway. Hell, 
they would never had gotten married if his parents 
hadn't demanded it after she had gotten pregnant. He 
had been shocked that his fling under the bleachers 
would have had such long reaching effects. But his 
parents were dead now and he had never really gotten to 
know Janine enough to even like her. An awful, living 
hell of a marriage. 

But with the divorce came a need to prove herself. One 
of the things Jim always threw at her were her looks 
and they were all true. "Flat as a board" True- she 
wore a 32 A cup that barely broke the plane of her 
blouses. "Fat" Not really-- working out had trimmed off 
ten pounds without too much work and she had would 
never have gained weight if Jim had been around more. 
"Plain." She sighed. Yes, she was plain. Not that she 
could help it. Cursed with mousy brown hair, a pale 
freckled complexion and thin, uninteresting features, 
Terry had a waif-like Sissy Spacek look to her that did 
little to attract male attention. 

That had changed a little bit with working out though. 
If she wasn't about to become a runway model, at least 
her trim figure caught some male glances. Ten hours a 
week at Better Bodies had paid off. She had caught 
Donovan taking a sidelong glance at her better "assets" 
and even when walking among the blooming teenage 
beauties of Regis Academy, she often felt the eyes of 
some of the boys, not many but some, on her swaying 
backside. 

But maybe she was overdoing it. She sat up, shook off 
the lapse in control and promptly forgot the incident. 
When she looked up, Mel was gone. 

*** 

Mr. Donovan had a strange look on his face when he 
requested she stay past five-thirty. "You can imagine 
what we need to talk about," he had winked. Sure, she 
replied casually-- then was nervous for the next two 
hours till, after the last of the students and teachers 
had left the administration building, he had called her 
in. 

"Sit down, Terry. I want to talk to you about your 
note." 

Note? 

His eyes narrowed greedily. "I think we can come to 
an... arrangement. Provided you behave yourself. Which 
we both know you will." Again the sly, dirty wink. 

She blushed and looked away. What was he talking about? 

He continued, in comfortable command of the situation. 
"You ARE a homely little piece of ass, but that ass is 
a tight one. Ever been fucked up the ass Terry?" 

She shot up like a rocket. 

"Sit down, you stupid little whore. Don't give me that 
holier-than-thou attitude-- you know you're nothing but 
a hole now-- MY hole." He chuckled. "I mean my three 
holes." 

Terry was white as a ghost. Donovan was insane, he had 
lost it, he-- 

---tossed a Xeroxed letter in front of her, paper 
clipped to a manila folder. "At least it looked like 
three holes from the fun in here." 

Terry slumped back into the chair. The Xerox shook from 
her trembling hand... 

"Dear Sir, 

I know my six month probation is coming to an end and 
you will make a decision whether or not to keep me in 
my current job as your secretary. I have tried very 
hard to do my job as secretary well and I hope you will 
let keep me my job. Right now my job is everything to 
me, not only for the $14,000 salary I am paid, but also 
because as an employee of Regis Academy, my daughter 
Janine is allowed to attend for free- so you can see 
how concerned I am about keeping my job. 

I am honest about my situation, Mr. Donovan. I need 
this job very much for the reasons I've stated. I don't 
have many options if you decide not to retain me as 
your secretary. I also know that while I believe I have 
been an effective secretary for you, I also am aware 
that I may be a bit too independent-minded for your 
taste—and that this may affect your decision. 

I have put together the attached package for your 
consideration. As you review the enclosures, I hope you 
will find reasons to retain me as your secretary. 

Sincerely, 

Terry" 

"I guess you were busy yesterday afternoon, hmmm Terry? 
Now I know why you wanted to leave so early in the 
day." Donovan was leering at her. 

Yesterday afternoon? Left early? 

Suspiciously she opened the envelope and pulled out 
some typed documents. Test results—negative for HIV, 
syphilis, and a number of sexually transmitted 
diseases. Dated yesterday with a "RUSH" stamped on it. 

Had she been to the doctor? Yesterday? Unreality 
flooded her consciousness. It looked genuine, but how 
had it happened without any memory whatsoever? 

She placed the papers on Donovan's desk, too amazed to 
pay attention to his hungry stares. There was another 
document, one she couldn't make sense of. A certificate 
of some kind—showing that she had undergone some 
procedure. Scanning the document, she learned what the 
procedure had involved. Norplant. "For prevention of 
pregnancy for the period of no less than five years." 

Norplant? Wasn't that what they gave girls in the 
ghetto so they wouldn't conceive illegitimate children? 
Why would she have had this done—and not remember it? 

Terry nearly dropped the manila envelope as she pulled 
the stack of glossies out. She didn't need to examine 
each and every one-- there was a contact sheet on top 
for easy reference. Nor did she need to guess who the 
subject was. It was herself. 

In the first frame, she was looking at the camera, 
clearly posing in a skimpy half-cut tee shirt and red 
bikini panties (HER red bikini panties, her 'date' 
panties as she thought of them) for the shooter. No 
nudity though. It could be seen as innocent—couldn't 
it? Next she was wearing the peach strapless bikini; 
with one cup pulled down to coyly show off her 
embarrassingly small left breast. She could feel 
Donovan's eyes on her and her cheeks blossomed crimson. 
The photos were getting much worse. 

In the next there was no pretense at what she was 
offering Donovan. She stood staring at the camera bare-
chested with a slightly embarrassed come-hither smile 
as she pulled off her red bikini date-panties. The next 
was mercifully a top shot. She was displaying her small 
chest for him in full light, a sad defeated smile on 
her face as she presented herself for male inspection. 

Her boss was focusing on her chest now. Before this, 
she had caught him ogling her in the office but a quick 
stare would send him scurrying. Not now. His stare was 
confident, cruel and possessive. 

She shivered, trying to ignore the boring eyes. Now she 
was on her bed in her white gauzy nighty-top and the 
matching near-nothing see-through panties. She was 
turned on her side with a mischievous smile on her 
face, her fingers toying with the elastic of the panty. 
But the coyness didn't hold long, because then she was 
on her side, nighty-top untied leaving her small pointy 
breasts poking out and panties long gone. Displaying 
her neatly trimmed narrow-furred bush (it was an 
exclamation mark now, not a bush--- when had she done 
that?) between spread legs with an expectant, "ready 
for you" expression. 

"Never took you for a model, Terry. But you certainly 
put your all into your little photo shoot for me." 
Donovan's raspy chuckle was dirty and dismissive. It 
said he now had the right to speak to her this way. 

Terry's eyes blurred, but she forced herself to focus 
on the remaining shots. She wished she hadn't. In the 
earlier shots, there was some element of playfulness, 
but in the remaining frames, that was gone. It was 
replaced by a pathetic sluttishness, as if the viewer 
was growing bored with the antics of the plain, flat-
chested thirty-something. Now she was leering back at 
the camera, nude and toying with her breasts, then 
spending her time with even more intimate parts of her 
body--- 

She slammed the photos on the desk, too stunned to 
speak. 

"It was kind of you to include the negatives—" 

NEGATIVES 

The word triggered a sudden comprehension of her 
situation. Yesterday afternoon. Leaving the office 
early with this whole idea, her thoughts static with 
fear that her job might be in jeopardy. The trip to the 
clinic, buying the camera and film. Writing the letter 
and then…posing. NEGATIVES. The word squirmed, an 
electric eel in her brain. Now she remembered it all. 
Why had she been so oblivious to his behavior toward 
her all that day? Naturally he looked at her 
differently now. 

"—and you'll be happy to know that I've put them in a 
safe place should you decide to be, say…less than 
cooperative with our new arrangement?" Donovan smiled 
over the tips of his fingers, which were pressed 
together under his chin. He looked like a spectator at 
a fight going his way. 

"If I'm not cooperative?" Terry responded slowly. Half 
a question, half a statement. 

"Then I'll turn over the photos to social workers who I 
imagine would remand your daughter Janine to some Youth 
Center while it gets sorted out. Public morals and all. 
And the photos would probably get distributed 
publically, oh say over the internet or something. Then 
everyone would get an idea of what a horny little piece 
of ass you really are." He wagged his head in pleasant 
surprise. "Must say I was surprised that the ever-so-
efficient Ms. Terry Owens was really such a bimbo." 

Terry looked down and away, wishing she wasn't there, 
that there was another way. She flushed, face hot with 
shame, humiliated that, as if on cue, her body was 
responding to her boss's humiliating treatment. There 
was no mistaking the quickening between her legs. At 
the word 'bimbo' she had become terribly excited. 

"Well let's begin—why don't you do some of those sexy 
poses in person for me—as a warm up." 

Avoiding his eyes, she began undressing. In a few 
seconds she stood in her underwear. She wasn't 
surprised to find herself in her sexy red 'date' 
panties—hadn't she known this was going to happen? 
Words were no longer necessary, as she could read what 
he wanted next. As she knelt to service him, a last 
vague thought occurred to her. 

If she had been posing for the photos, the ones that 
would keep her chained to Donovan for who knew how 
long, who had been taking them? Then, as quickly as it 
had appeared to her, it vanished like a dry leaf in the 
Fall wind. There were other more urgent duties to 
concentrate on. 

***

"Meldar, eat your asparagus!" 

The teen stared sullenly at the Earth vegetables as he 
consumed them. His parental units were talking about 
their work. By Gritza, how boring was that! 

"So, Keldar, how was your day today?" his mother asked 
his father. 

"Ahhh! What marvel is this pot roast Dovar! How this 
nutritional treasure would be revered on Homeworld!" He 
consumed another forkful of the smoking meat. "My day 
was most successful. A gunman who occupied a daycare 
center in Montana used his weapon upon himself before 
harming the children. A serial killer was found asleep 
at a bus stop in Topeka and apprehended without 
incident. And a gang leader in Los Angeles gave himself 
up to police." Keldar enjoyed another biteful. "He was 
implicated in a drive-by shooting! And you?" 

"May I be excused?" demanded Meldar rudely. 

Dovar wagged a finger at him. "Quiet! Behave yourself 
and sit and converse with us, Meldar, for a few minutes 
more." She turned back to her marriage partner. "My day 
was a busy one Keldar. Negotiations on the West Bank 
were successfully concluded to the satisfaction of all. 
A coup by Ukrainian colonels was prevented in time by 
democratic elements. And an Iranian terrorist group was 
apprehended in Orly attempting to smuggle a portion of 
plutonium!" 

"Ahh, most gratifying! Homeworld will be most pleased 
with our transmissions today! And your day Meldar? Did 
you absorb much education and learn from your 
classmates?" 

It was hard for Meldar to keep from snickering a 
little, quickly picked up by his parental units. 

"Meldar! What have you done?" demanded his father. 

"Meldar! What have you done?" demanded his mother. 

Each remembered the recent (and highly) embarrassing 
incident with the cheerleader squad at Meldar's last 
school. 

"Do you forget that the Homeworld has sent us here as 
Protector-Monitors of this System? Have you again 
altered one of your human peers?" demanded Keldar. 

Dovar shook her head in anxiety. Porterville High 
School was STILL reeling over the lesbian cheerleader 
scandal of last Fall! She had hoped the relocation to 
the new educational site would curb Meldar's 
mischievous nature, but it was ever a battle, 
especially in this turbulent chrono-period of sexual 
tensions. On Homeworld, he would have had no power over 
his peers. But these humans were so malleable, so easy 
to manipulate and control-- exactly why she and Keldar 
had been dispatched here. Teenagers-- so infuriating! 

But Meldar shook his head with the innocence of a 
Three-winged Kaylok. "Oh no, parentals! I have not 
altered a human peer! I swear!" 

Keldar nodded with relief. Obviously he had 
misinterpreted his son's expression and felt guilty. 
"Accept my apologies Meldar. Your parentals have 
experienced fatiguing workspans." 

Meldar grudgingly took the apology, though retained a 
grimace. He wished to experience programming on the 
visual reception device later that nocturnal period and 
this policy would aid when he made this request in 
three hour's time. 

Wishing to break the impasse, Dovar smiled. "You may 
leave the table Meldar." 

After their son had left the living room table, both 
parents expressed relief that Meldar was behaving 
himself after all. It made Dovar's next comment easier 
to make. 

"Bosnia? Of course I'll accompany you, if you believe 
the situation requires both our presences," Keldar 
replied. "And after all, it would seem Meldar can be 
trusted by himself to be left alone for a few days." 

***

Terry slapped down the twenty dollar bill without 
looking at the clerk. She recoiled as he slipped the 
bill into the cash register and aimed an indecent leer 
her way. With a quick grab, she snatched the keys made 
filthy by his touch from the No-Tell Motel's check-in 
counter and spun out of the office towards the room. 
All the way out, she could feel his bug green colored 
eyes on her ass. Terry Owens shuddered, grateful to 
turn the corner and remove herself from his sight. She 
didn't bother to check the room number-- it was always 
the same. 

As she opened the door and flipped on the light, the 
only thought on her mind was how she would buy 
groceries. The twenty dollar bill had been her last, 
leaving a mere $11.12 in her pocketbook and less than 
$50 in her checkbook. Damn-- payday was a week away! 
But if she hadn't come to an 'arrangement' with the 
clerk some weeks ago, it would have been $40 for 
afternoon use of the room. God, if Mr. Donovan ever 
found out she was giving blowjobs for $20 to cover half 
the room tab, he'd be furious! But she had to cover it 
some way-- 

Mr. Donovan told her that she was responsible for 
paying for the room. That way if it ever came public, 
she was the one that would look bad and not him. Her 
name on the registry-- not his. Oh well-- as long as 
she gave the blowjob AFTER servicing The Boss, he'd 
never find out. She had to remember to please ask 
Vinnie if he could try and not cum on her clothes. Last 
week the clerk had shot globs all over her new tank 
top, the one The Boss loved. It had taken a while to 
get the stains out. 

She sighed and quickly and efficiently stripped off her 
knit top and miniskirt, leaving her only in her black 
fishnets, high heels, black lace garter belt, black 
panties and bra. She slipped into her purse and pulled 
out a black velvet choker, hooking it snugly around her 
pale neck. The Boss liked her in chokers. Then she 
slipped to her knees directly in front of the door and 
waited for him. 

***

"I'll be working late tonight, so here's five dollars 
for some dinner—o.k.?" 

"Terry! Get in here—NOW! This coffee is COLD dammit!" 
It was Mr. Donovan's voice, booming from inside his 
office. Her mother looked instinctively at the door. 

"Be right there, Sir!" Nervously, she palmed the five 
into her hand. "I've got to go, honey. See you later." 

Janine turned to go, then remembered she needed to tell 
her mother Mr. Jackson had asked about the overdue rent 
again. She regretted turning back though. From the 
corner of the doorframe, she watched her mother 
hurriedly concentrate on her reflection in the small 
compact that always seemed to be in her hand now. She 
was expertly applying a fresh coat of fire engine red 
lipstick on her pursed lips. Putting the compact away, 
she tousled her long long red curly hair sexily. She 
looked around furtively and Janine ducked back. Then, 
certain no one was coming, she cupped her breasts 
together and up. 

"Get in here NOW Terry! Don't make me call you again!" 
the voice commanded ominously. 

"Just freshening up, Sir!" Janine flushed in shame as 
she watched her mother deftly unbutton the top three 
buttons on her red knit form-fitting blouse with those 
long polished red nails. Assuming a naughty, kittenish 
smile, her mother wiggled her way into the Headmaster's 
Office, closing the door behind her. Janine stood in 
shock, horrified. A few seconds later, her mother's 
voice—not the normal, everyday voice of a few weeks ago 
but a new squeaky little girl voice-- escaped from 
behind the office door. 

"Oh, Mr. Donovan, Sir—I'm a GOOD girl! Please!" Then 
her giggle—a vacuous bimbo giggle—and silence 
punctuated by soft feminine sighs and the occasional 
male grunt. 

With a face as red as a tomato, Janine Owens spun away 
from the Administration Office as quickly as her legs 
could take her. 

Her mother was a slut. And everyone in the school knew 
it. 

She hadn't believed in the beginning. She chalked up 
the new 'after-hours' schedule to a hectic workload. 
Then the fashion changes—her mother dumping out all her 
pantsuits and replacing them with spandex miniskirts 
that some of the most daring female students wouldn't 
be caught dead in. Her flats suffered the same fate, 
all being replaced by high heels—and nothing under 
three inches. And garter belts and seamed stockings did 
the work of pantyhose now. Her mother had never been 
big into makeup but she was now. Not tasteful stuff 
either—more the cheap Teen Spirit stuff than Chanel. 

The weekly visits to the hairdresser and the large 
amount of hair spray which helped maintain the new big 
hair mallrat look her mother had assumed were 
impossible to ignore. Still, maybe she was just opening 
up a little—having fun. Janine could have rationalized 
any number of ways—trying to regain her youth by having 
fun with her appearance, etc. 

But there was the dirty laundry. With her new "busy" 
schedule, her mother had no time to handle 
housecleaning around the apartment and Janine was happy 
to help out—at first. But as she hauled the hamper down 
to the apartment's basement where the washing machines 
and dryers lived, she was embarrassed at the items she 
found within it. Push-up bras, g-strings, bustieres—her 
mother dressed more like a stripper than a secretary. 
It was doubly embarrassing when Mr. Jackson the 
building super watched her, giving her knowing leers 
that made her hate her mother even more. His beady eyes 
said it all— "Your momma's a whore." 

And he was right. Because it wasn't simply that her 
mother wore such wanton underthings. That was bad 
enough. But she knew, if not from personal experience, 
what was so often smeared crustily over the dainty lace 
and silk of the lingerie. 

It was cum. 

Mr. Donovan's cum. 

She quickly stifled the humiliating knowledge within as 
her classmate approached her. The smile that Mel Taylor 
gave Janine Owens made her extremely uncomfortable. 
Something about him was real weird. And what was he 
doing walking around with that Polaroid camera? 

"Hi Janine. Take your picture? It is for the yearbook," 
he explained wryly. "Come on-- follow me." 

She blinked and Meldar smiled. With the parent units 
out of the house, it was going to be a nice long 
weekend. 

THE END 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kristen's collection - Directory 56