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The Circus by She-Devil I give you a circus story. It was better than most hospital rooms: bigger, better- equipped, comfortably furnished, and conscientiously attended by a trained staff. But at this moment it wasn't much better than the Drunk Tank at the City Jail, thanks to the hordes of screaming relatives that clustered around the bed where my Uncle Hubert lay, taking his own good time about dying. "You can't do that! moaned Aunt Mary. "It's a disgrace!" groaned Cousin Charles. "We'll be ruined socially!" wailed a blue-haired old lady who relationship to me I never was sure of. "None-the-less," the strong tones of Uncle Hubert's voice silenced them all, even from his death bed. "It's what I want and it's what I'm going to do!" "But you can't!" Aunt Mary repeated. "You just can't leave all your money to a bastard child you've never even seen ... the daughter of-of a common performer -- or worse!" "I can and I will," Uncle Hubert's voice grated more firmer than ever. "The lawyers have already rewritten my will, and all I have to do know is find the child... And by damn, I'm going to! Now get out of here, all of you -- except you Martin -- Go on, get out!" The others were herded from the room by a nurse who looked like a pro-football linebacker and I was left alone with my Uncle Hubert. "Any progress?" He asked eagerly. "Some," I said, watching his old eyes light up. "The detectives have been following up every lead you've given us, and it seems they might be on to something. They're checking out rumors about a girl working in a circus or something somewhere out west. They say it looks really hopeful, and if it turns out good they should have some news in a few weeks." "Good!" The old man knew he could hold out that long easily. "You know, Martin, it's funny; I never thought much of you. Guess some of your ideas were a little too far out for an old man like me. But now it seems that you're the only one I can trust to do this. Maybe it's because I never tried to buy your love like I did all those others," he cast a disparaging glance at the hallway full of greedy relatives. "Anyway, I want you to know I appreciate it and, if it works out, if you find the child, you'll be well taken care of!" "Sure, Uncle Hubert," I smiled, rising. "But the main thing now is for you to rest. I may not be back for a few weeks, but when I do return, it'll be with good news!" Out in the hallway, the others ignored me as I left. Except for my cousin Roderick, that is; I heard his mincing footsteps growing louder in the hallway as he hurried to catch up with me. "Well," he trilled, touching my sleeve softly. "How's the pet nephew today?" "Still poor, but happy," I smiled, hiding the distaste I've always felt for Roderick as best I could. For years I used to tell myself that I was unfairly prejudiced against Roderick because he's gay and I'm not. But recently I had come to realize that my dislike of the man had nothing to do with his sexual preferences; he was just a little twerp, that's all. And a very irritating one at that. "And how are things with the upper classes?" I continued. "Oh, you know that crowd," he wrinkled his nose at my reference to our mutual relations. "Always worried about losing an odd hundred million or so. But just what have you and Uncle Hubert been plotting, anyway?" That was the one thing I liked about Roderick: you could see through him like air. Clever he might be, but subtle? Never! "Nothing very important," I lied, "but why should you care? You were never in the will for very much anyway -- not that you needed it -- and I know you don't lose any sleep over the welfare of us paupers." We smiled at the half-truth of my remark. By conventional standards, I'm not a pauper at all, with a trust fund that nets me a few hundred grand a year after taxes. But in our family, that strictly a poor relation. "Oh, you must know I've always liked you Martin," Roderick lied right back. "But I must say that whatever it is you've been doing lately has changed you somehow. I can't quite place it, but your just a little ... different! Your clothes don't seem to fit you anymore, your voice seems higher, your skin paler, and ... you walk funny. You almost remind me of an old boyfriend of mine. Did I ever tell you about the fellow who was into dresses?" I felt myself reddening at his remarks, wondering if he had really guessed anything. Fortunately, we had reached my Mercedes by that time and I broke the conversation off quickly and sped home. There, in the privacy of my luxury town house, I studied myself closely in the mirror, then I doffed my clothing for a look at how I was progressing. It was better than I had expected. My skin was smooth, soft, and -- except for a triangular patch over my male organs -- hairless. My shapely legs and round ass would have looked great on any girl. But most impressive of all, above my nipped-in waist, were a pair of full firm breasts that had grown so they were not easy to hide anymore. Well, I thought, after tonight there would be no need to hide them at all. And in a month or so, if everything went right, I'd be completely rid of them and back to being my old self 100 percent. You're probably wondering what all this is about. The fact is that I had been giving serious thought to the question of my Uncle Hubert's lost bastard child for over a year. Ever since the old bastard had been diagnosed as terminal he'd been talking more and more about his lost youth and the mistakes he'd made and the wrong he'd done. One thing in particular had seemed to bother him more than most: About twenty years ago, he'd had a fling with some girl who must have really impressed him. He had even promised to marry her, or hinted around that he might, anyway. Whatever the case, when the lady in question got pregnant, he'd dropped her like a greasy hand grenade, which was why the girl was so ashamed at having been made such a fool of that she dropped out of college (she'd been in some athletic program or something) and joined a travelling circus. Can you imagine anything like that in this day and age? I couldn't either, but Uncle Hubert had insisted it had happened, and the detectives I'd hired confirmed it: A girl with the plebeian name of Kitty O'Malley had really dropped out of an Ivy League school twenty years ago and taken up employment with an acrobatic troupe passing through the area that summer! And this was none other than the woman whom Uncle Hubert had seduced and abandoned. As I said, I had hired detectives to dig all this information out for several months ago. You see, I could tell by the way Uncle Hubert had been talking about this things that it was really preying on his mind and it occurred to me that he would probably be looking to make amends before he died. I was right. The old reprobate broke down and cried one evening, just after he'd gone into the hospital, swearing that he'd do anything if only he could make things up to his poor, poor Kitty. He'd hired some detectives himself by that time, and it had come as quite a shock to him when they'd reported back that Kitty had died over fifteen years earlier. But you should have seen his eyes light up when I reminded him that Kitty had been pregnant, after all, there was still a very strong possibility that he had a son or a daughter running around someplace who could be found and provided for! That's when Uncle Hubert and I finally started to get along. He was amazed that any of his relatives would be so understanding and self-sacrificing as to actually try and dig out another relative to share his billions with. But I put my pious look on my face and told him that I could see how much it all meant to him, and from that day on, I was put in charge of `The Search for the Missing Heir/ess.' Since I was already several months ahead of the detectives he'd hired, it was fairly easy to put them all on false trails while I sent my own detective on a short-cut. Then, when that had just almost found my uncle's lost child, I thanked them, paid them generously, and told them to forget it, that I would have the second team of investigators (the ones Uncle Hubert knew about) finish the job. By now, you're probably wondering about my motives in all this. Well frankly, I was wondering myself. You see, I knew that there was a lot of money at stake her. And it seemed to me that whoever found this missing child (actually a young lady by now, I had discovered) would hold the key to the whole situation; if I found her, I could always present her to Uncle Hubert and count on being cut in for a share of his gratitude. If I ever did present her to my uncle, that is! It had also occurred to me that if I -- and I alone -- knew where she was, it might be possible to remove forever any proof of her identity and sound my other relatives out on "How much would they be willing to pay if I could guarantee that the missing child would never be found?" So everything I'd done up to a few months ago had been to ensure myself that I would find Uncle Hubert's daughter long before anyone else could. Then I could see what the situation looked like and make my plans accordingly. Only I'd hit a snag. My detectives had traced Kitty O'Malley's daughter to an outfit called "She Devil's Travelling All-Female Circus." But there was something funny about this set-up. It seemed this circus didn't play small towns, shopping centers, or hook with the big circuses the way other travelling shows did. No, She Devil's troupe seemed to play exclusively at very posh and private parties for people in the same income bracket as my Uncle Hubert. And they had their home base on the estate of a mega-billionaire who made even Uncle Hubert seem like a piker. During the summer months they would travel the country side like any other circus outfit, except that they were a little better off than most, and as I said, they only played at very swanky and very private events. Well, if there's one thing learned from being rich, it's that rich people don't waste their time going to the circus. It was pretty obvious to me that She Devil's Travelling All-Female Circus must be offering some extra attraction for the jaded wealthy, and it didn't take me long to discover what that was: SEX! Through my connections with other wealthy young men of leisure just like myself, I soon learned that She Devil's Circus specialized in the bizarre. My friend mentioned bondage displays, exotic sexual freaks, and feats of eroto-acrobatics that would have amazed the Flying Wallendas. So this was where my long lost cousin was working. And this was where I would have to go to find her. That was where my problem started. Because for my purposes, I would have to not only find the girl, but find out all I could about her private situation. If there was any way she could be privately hidden away, spirited off, or just have the proof of her identity removed, I had to know where it was. And if there wasn't, I had to know that too, so I could be as delighted as Uncle Hubert over her discovery. Therefore, I would have to conduct my own private investigation incognito. It would never do for Uncle Hubert to discover that someone of my description had been continuing to search around She Devil's Circus long after he should have found his long-lost daughter and brought her home. The answer stared me in the face for a long time before I finally admitted it. The only way that I could effectively disguise myself and do a close investigation of She Devil's All Girl Travelling Circus was to disguise myself as a woman! And for set-up like this, it would have to be not just a disguise, but almost a complete transformation! As I say, it took me a long time to admit this to myself; after all, though not particularly big or masculine-looking, I am completely male and definitely heterosexual, so the idea of turning myself into a woman -- even temporarily -- was naturally repugnant to me. But once I decided that this was the only way to do it, I threw myself into the project with a vengeance. I read everything I could about transvestism and transsexualism. I discussed things with well-known female impersonators and transsexuals. I even spoke to doctors who did the male-to-female operation. And at last I had developed a way to carry the whole thing off. Expensive creams and hormones had softened my skin and almost completely deadened my body hair. Shots had rounded my buttocks and swelled my breasts up to what would become impressive 38-D dimensions. Corsetting and exercise had nipped in my waist while another daily regimen had softened the muscles in my arms and shoulders and shaped up my legs. And hours of constant practice had finally made me an expert in makeup, hair styling, and feminine deportment. I could now look and act completely feminine whenever I wanted. Or almost completely. There was just one detail to take care of: my male organs .. some detail! But I had at last found a way to get around even that obstacle without doing myself any permanent harm. Weeks of nightly soaking in a special astringent lotion had succeeded in shrinking my cock and balls to about half their normal size. And for an outrageous fee, an obliging doctor had permanently stitched small loops of surgical thread into the skin around my genitals. I had been anaesthetized during this procedure, of course, but the result was that I now had a network of incredibly strong and tiny loops of thread completely around the area I wanted to hide. Now I picked up the device that I had ordered from an expensive special effects lab in Hollywood: An artificial vagina! It was made of a durable flesh-like substance and designed to fit comfortably over my real genitals, holding them back in a small package between my legs. There was even a realistic permanently- moistened female passageway between the pussy-lips, equipped with a nylon spring to keep it convincingly tight yet seductively yielding. And the entire thing was surrounded by dark hair that could be easily and invisibly laced into the loops at my crotch! Did I say "easily?" It took me almost an hour of bending forward, trying to see between my jiggling breasts, to get the thing laced on! But when I had finished at last and looked at myself in the mirror once more, I felt an enormous glow of satisfaction. There, reflected back at me, was the perfect image of an attractive -- even voluptuous -- woman! Her curly dark hair fell neatly to the nape of her neck in a perfectly feminine style. And framed by this dark hair, her softly made-up features smiled back at me: Gracefully arched eyebrows over demure, shadowed brown eyes with long dark lashes, just a hint of blush at the cheeks, and the skin so soft as to need no foundation. And a perfectly drawn pair of oh so kissable lips! Below the neck, the shoulders were smooth and soft like the arms, betraying no hint of masculinity. At the chest were those firm, lovely breasts for which I had worked so hard. Below the flat tummy was an inviting triangle of dark pubic hair with just a hint of pink nether lips behind it. Behind this, I could see the twin curves of a round, bouncing pink bottom. And beneath my gracefully swelling hips was a pair of legs that would make any woman envious. I was ready! ********* "So you're Mattie Huntington?" She Devil looked at ne over the strong, bitter tea that we were sharing in her well-equipped trailer, her green eyes softly glowing. They were fascinating, those eyes of hers, and as we talked, I felt myself looking into them more and more deeply. "That's right," I lied in my soft feminine voice. "I believe you received a letter about me from my -ah- friend, Martin Howard?" "Yes, Martin vouched for you alright; he said you're not an undercover policeman or anything. But I don't actually know Martin. He himself was referred to me by some long-standing patrons of mine. So your references are good but just slightly second hand." "Isn't the money I'm paying you enough to settle any doubts?" I asked. "I mean, it - it's hard enough for me just getting up the nerve to try this thing without having to go through this- this ... "Interrogation?" She Devil smiled. "Relax. Mattie: you're not the first woman who has offered to pay me to hire her. You'd be surprised how many women have a latent streak of exhibitionism or submissiveness in them and decide they'd like to try a few weeks with She Devil's Circus. Your request was a little different from most, however." "You mean my stipulation that I shouldn't have to-to...." "That you didn't want to perform for the customers but just wanted to help out with the girls backstage," She Devil prompted. "That's right. In fact, it might be very difficult to arrange. This is a circus, after all, and part of the system is that every girl must pitch in wherever she's needed. That's the only way we can get by." "But-but I'm paying for this!" I insisted. "And I really, really don't want to have to -- have sex with-with men and things! Isn't it possible for me just to clean the girls rooms and care for their things? Liked I asked?" "I'll do what I can," She Devil said evenly, looking deeply into my brown eyes with her smoldering green ones as she went on in her soft, compelling voice, "But I want you to prepare yourself mentally for the times when we'll ask you to do something else for us; to help in some way with the customers. Of course, we won't force you to do anything against your will, but you may find, after a little while with us, that you have more potential than you ever thought. As you relax, you'll find your mind expanding and your horizons broadening. And although you can refuse anytime you wish, you may simply feel better by helping out. That will all come later prehaps. Meanwhile, I want you to remember that this arrangement will continue only for as long as you can pay for it. Is that clear?" I shook myself out of the reverie into which I had somehow fallen and nodded. "Much as I might like you personally," She Devil continued, "and I do find myself strangely attracted to you, I can only survive as long as this show prospers. We serve a rich clientele, but that also means that our expenses are high and our arrangements complicated. I had a girl here, very much like you, once who could not understand that ours was a business relationship: We provide our services only as long as you can pay for them. That's all right with you, isn't it?" I nodded again, thinking comfortably of how well I had prepared for all this. Not only had I changed my appearance, but I had also obtained false identification papers and even set up a well stocked checking account through a large bank in the name of Mattie Huntington. And in case of emergency, I had all my real identification, credit cards, and such safely hidden away in the trailer I had bought to travel in with the circus. I sipped my tea and felt myself relaxing even more. "Very good," She Devil smiled. "Now, let's talk Mattie. I want to discuss the things you'll be wearing and the duties you'll be performing for me and the other girls. After all, we have to know just what you'lll be doing before we know what outfits to have made for you. So I want you to relax and tell me all about your innermost thouhgts and fantasies. And about yourself. Tell me, Mattie, how old are you?" We talked for almost two hours about all sorts of things: Did I like my body? What did I think was my most attractive feature? How old was I? Where was I raised? Brothers and sisters? What were my favorite colors? My favorite fabrics? Did I enjoy the cool swish of silk? Or the warm caress of leather? Both? How about the comfortable squeeze of tight instep-arching high heels, and the delightful rythym they impart to a woman's gait? How about the rustle of silken petticoats or the whisper of black silk stockings? Had I ever felt the erotic constriction of a corset? The delicate touch of a leather collar? Had I ever gone swimming in the nude? How did I feel in school when I showered with the other girls in Gym Class? What would it to be like to be photographed nude? I was asked to relax and imagine myself in a situation where I was meeting a few friends for an important luncheon at a fashionable restaurant. I was elegantly dressed, as I was now, in a heavy white silk blouse, attractive mauve skirt, expensive silk slip and matching undies, with sheer stockings on my legs, and fashionable shoes with two inch heels. But as we all sat down, I suddenly realized that there was a bigger than life size poster on the wall behind me in which I was completely naked, down on all fours, with a collar around my neck, being walked down a city street by She Devil who was wearing my clothes. I blinked, suddenly startled by the bizarre picture She Devil had created, a little surprised to discover that I was not in that restaurant with all my dream friends, but still here in She Devil's trailer. "I'm sorry." I said stupidly. "What was I saying?" "Oh, nothing," She Devil smiled, rising. "But I have a pretty good idea now how I'm going to dress you and what you'll be doing! It's late now, though. Why don't you go back to your trailer and relax while I mnake some arrangements. Then, tomorrow morning, I'll introduce you to everyone and you can start your job!" ********* Starting the next day, and over the next few weeks, I discovered what a bizarre set-up indeed was She Devil's Travelling All-Girl Circus. And what a strange cast of characters inhabited it! There was Ktanka, the Strong lady, for instance, a lovely but muscular Russian Goddess who towered almost seven feet tall, and whose proud boast was that she could wrestle anything on earth. I watched her one day, practicing an odd combination of ballet moves and wrestling maneuvers, amazed by the speed and agility of her big, smooth legs and the quick strength of her arms, and I began to believe that she was probably right: She could wrestle anything. Only I wouldn't have bet on her oppponent! Then there was Lila, the Tattooed Lady, who bragged that every inch of her skin was tattooed and charged customers to explore the truth of her claim. I saw her quite often, showering, sweating in the heat, even rubbing oil over her body to show everyone that the tottoos were genuine; yet somehow, as I watched her from day to day, the pattern of colorful pictures seemed to keep changing, so that it was never the same from one week to the next. There was also Lasha, the Whip Woman, a dark-skinned leather- clad girl who was never without some sort of stinging punishment device hanging from her wrist or hip. I saw her in competition once and gapsed as she knocked bottles, one at a time, from a platform ten feet away before a sharpshooter could shatter them with his target pistol! And there were a host of others, even stranger: Sally Swinger, the arealist; Armless Amanda and legless Lilly, twin sisters; Helga, the Horse-woman; Magica, the conjurer; Kathy Clown (whose bag of X-rated tricks seemed as inexhaustible as it was inventive); The Round-Up Girls, the Rubber Woman ... I could go on all day! One of the most interesting for me, though, was a pretty twenty-year-old blonde who was introduced to me as just Molly. She did an act with two leopards in which the big cats walked lovingly between her legs, tickled her with their tales, then gently made love to each other in a variety of human positions at her command. It seemed as if the animals actually loved their blonde mistress, an attitude which was shared by the rest of the troupe as well. Molly's soft, gentle nature was cherished and protected by the other girls in the troupe -- some of whom, as you may have gathered, were quite hard-boiled -- and next to She Devil, she was the most popular person in the outfit. Ah yes, She Devil. Aptly named, that woman. It wasn't that she was overtly evil or anything; she just had an ineffable sinister quality that I could never quite place. She told me that she used to do a mind-reading and hypnosis act in night clubs, and the more I came to know her entrancingly proportioned body and her captivating green eyes, the easier it was for me to believe it. And I saw quite a lot of She Devil. Since we were both backstagers, we often had moments together while the others were working, and gradually these moments lengthened into hours and then evenings. Somehow, I always felt I could relax with She Devil. She would talk to me in her low, melodic voice, rubbing the back of my neck as I sipped tea in her trailer, and after awhile, I would listen and it would be me talking. I only knew that when I left her trailer, I always felt pleasantly refreshed, as if I had been able to let out some terrible load for a little while. Just when we became lovers I could not say. It just seemed that one night I opened my eyes and found myself crouched nude between her legs, tonguing passionately between her pussy lips, feeling the soft caress of her bare thighs on my ears. I had never done this to a woman before, but I suddenly found myself hungry for this exotic creature, physically aroused in a way I had never felt before! My nipples were erect and tingling, and between my legs, my captive cock, imprisoned behind the false pudenda, ached warmly as it struggled to expand in the small space ... in vain! But the pressure on my balls as my swelling organ pushed at them was somehow more pleasant than painful. After that night, it seemed I just couldn't get enough of She Devil. Every chance I could, I would wait on her, attend her in the bath, run little errands for her, or lovingly hand wash her stockings and lingerie for her. I ignored the comments from the other girls that She Devil was incurably fickle, and devoted as much time and attention as I possibly could to this fascinating lesbian! And, oddly enough, it seemed that, though still very much a male underneath, I was coming to think of myself more and more as ... lesbian. I lusted after She Devil, it's true; What guy wouldn't be turned on by her full, firm breasts, her shapely legs, and the silken texture of her tawny skin. Beneath that false pussy I wore, my cock stiffened every time she walked into a room! But somehow, I also felt a stiffening in my nipples, a warm, moist tingle in my crotch, and sometimes my mouth would actually salivate with hunger to get between her thighs, like some kind of conditioned reflex! At those moments, I almost forgot about my real identity, even forgot that I was really male, and responded to She Devil's charms in a distinctly feminine way. Soon, in fact, whenever she entered a room I would feel my knees flex automatically. Everyone assumed I was curtseying to her, but actually it was a reflex action caused by my conditioned response to go down on her, until I realized that we were in public. But here I've been going on about She Devil and haven't gotten around to telling you how she dressed me or some of the things I had to do around the circus for the other girls -- and with them! And there was also my gradual discovery of my uncle's missing daughter, and how I uncovered proof of her identity at last... and what happened when I did! No, life with She Devil's Travelling All-Girl Circus was not just an extended feast between She Devil's bewitching thighs, much as I wished it could have been. In fact, I had to put up with quite a few inconveniences and even indignities in order to keep up my masquerade of femininity and pursue my search for my missing cousin. For one thing, there was the way She Devil dressed me. Since I had agreed to be hired on her terms (although I was paying all the expenses!) I had to wear whatever she thought appropriate. And She Devil had decided that as my job was to be a back-stage assistant and general helper to the other girls, the best outfit for me would be a series of Maids Costumes! But what costumes they were! They were in a variety of styles, but all were of jet-black satin with white lace trim and accessories, such as caps and aprons. Aside from that, though, they were surprisingly different, from each other and from any other kind of outfit I had ever seen a maid wear! There was one traditional maid's dress, with puffed sleeves, lace collar, layers of starched petticoats and a darling apron and cap set. But the skirt was so short that every time I walked in this thing it flipped up, offering teasing glimpses of my black panty-clad bottom as well as the tops of my opera-length black net stockings, and bending over to do anything at all was ... well, I might as well have raised my panties up a flag pole for all the exposure they got My next Maid's outfit was much more concealing, but much more restrictive as well. The skirt on this one came clear to my ankles, and the dress had a very high collar and long sleeves, as well as matching black satin gloves. The problem was that the whole thing was so tight -- and made of such heavy black satin -- that I could barely move in it! There was a corset built into the bodice which kept my back rigid and just slightly curved, and the high satin collar was almost as bad as the corset, forcing me to keep my neck strained outward and my chin up, so that I had to bend slightly forward just to see in front of me. The arms of this thing were so snug that I couldn't bend my elbows very far or even raise my arms above my head. It was a chore just feeding myself, especially since the tight satin gloves were as restrictive as the rest of the outfit, making it impossible for me to even close my fingers very tightly. It took She Devil a full fifteen minutes to button me into this thing and lace the corset straps, and when she was finished I couldn't get out of it without help. But even that outfit was better than the next one, an ensemble so brief that it was barely there at all. It consisted of a tight (and I mean really tight!) satin corset with a small patch sewn on the bottom at the front, in the shape of an elongated triangle, with the base sewn to the corset bottom and narrowing at the tip to a thin strap that passed between my legs and ass cheeks and then tied to the back of the corset. With this on, my pussy was just about hidden, but that was all. There was an apron sewn to the front of the corset, the skirt portion hanging just inches below my waist and the bib portion held up by pasties on my nipples. And this, along with skyscraper-high heels, black-net stockings held up by black satin garters, arm length black net fingerless gloves and the ubiquitous maid's cap was all there was to it; My shoulders, the tops of my breasts, most of my back, and my entire bottom were completely bare! She Devil used to make me wear this when I'd been disobedient, she said, and everyone in the group laughed heartily at the sight of modest me scampering around camp on my duties, trying all the while to keep my backside from view. And this wasn't always easy, considering some of my duties. Normally, all I had to do was dust and vacuum the dozen or so trailers of the girls in the troupe, easy enough considering their compact size and convenient layout. I had specifically picked out this job because it enabled me to snoop privately through the papers in each girl's possessions, picking the locks on strong boxes when necessary in my search for birth certificates, old photographs, and anything else that might prove someone's identity. It was this way that I was able to discover... but I'm getting ahead of myself. As I said, my job occasionally called for a little work above and beyond the call, and sometimes I found myself roped into something, that I certainly hadn't figured on when starting. There was the time, for instance, when Magica asked me to assist her in an illusion. For this one, I was attired in a sweeping, floor-length strapless gown of light green silk, no underwear, dark silk stockings and elbow length white gloves, along with a string of pearls and the usual four inch high heel shoes, of course. Dressed like this, I waited in the stands of our portable arena until she asked for a volunteer from the audience and someone pushed me out. Acting a bit nervous and reluctant (which wasn't really acting) I came into the spotlight with her and introduced myself as Mattie Huntington, a wealthy visitor. Magica thanked me for "volunteering" and led me up to a heavy wooden X-frame up on a small platform. In no time at all, Magica had my wrists securely tied with strong rope to the top of the X and my ankles similarly secured at the bottom. Then she called for another volunteer to make sure I was really helplessly bound. Suddenly Kathy Clown came running up from the darkness at the edge of the spotlight. In slapstick pantomime, she conveyed to the audience that she wanted to test me, to make sure I couldn't move, and the audience applauded wildly. All at once I found myself hit in the face by a stream of seltzer water. I sputtered in protest, then screamed shrilly as Kathy directed the stream down the front of my dress, soaking it to a clinging, near transparent mess that outlined every inch of me. From up her sleeve, Kathy produced a huge bouquet of feather flowers and proceeded to plant these down my decolletage. I looked down in wonder, only to be hit full in the face again by another stream of seltzer. But Kathy was just getting started. Smiling impishly, she plucked a feather from the bouquet between my breasts and began tickling me! Oooo! I writhed, I giggled. I screamed for help as I tugged frantically at the ropes that imprisoned my wrists and ankles. But it was no use. I felt the merciless caress of the feather as it swept artfully up my sides to my armpits, behind my ears and under my chin, then darted down to the insides of my thighs. How long it went on I couldn't say, but at last I was hanging exhausted by my wrists and Kathy was bowing as the audience applauded wildly in the darkness beyond the spotlight. Now Magica proceeded with her act. Two stagehands brought out an ornate red lacquer oriental cabinet, about six feet square, and Magica made a big production of showing everyone that it was empty. Then, with a flourish, she swept off her oversized cape and draped it over the wooden X-frame, covering me completely. Through the heavy fabric, I heard a "poof!" and saw a flash of light, and then I suddenly felt a trap door opening beneath my feet as razor sharp blades concealed in the X-frame flashed out and back, severing my bonds. Instantly, I was plummeting downwards as hooks caught my dress and ripped it from me. Then I was rolling down a short passageway and onto a small platform. My weight flipped a trigger somewhere, and before I could even realize what was happening, I was shot upwards into some kind of black closet about six feet square. And then the sides suddenly fell from the closet. Dazed, I blinked and looked around On the stage, Magica was bowing and showing off Molly, who, attired in an outfit identical to my green dress, was now bound to the X-frame. And I was standing, free, in what had been the oriental cabinet. Free and almost naked! I squealed and clasped my arms around me as I suddenly realized that I was standing there in front of everyone in just my stockings, gloves and heels! And as the band kicked up a lively circus chase theme, I leaped from the platform and ran, blushing furiously, to the safety of the performers door under the stands. A little while later, in the front of her trailer, She Devil massaged my back softly as I lay comfortably nude on her floor. She was nude herself, and the feel of her bare thighs straddling my back was giving me warn tingles all over that had nothing to do with the carpet beneath my stomach. "There, there, Poor Little Thing," she cooed softly. "I know it was just horrible, but really you were sensational. And you were really the best one for the job, you know; you and Molly have completely different coloring, but there is enough resemblance between your faces and builds to add a lot of visual impact to the illusion. But don't worry. I'll tell Magica to do her acts from now on without your assistance." "Oh thank you, She Devil," I breathed softly, luxuriating in the gentle touch of her hands up and down my bare back. Then I thought of something else: "By the way, uh, how long has Molly been with you?" "Molly?" She Devil replied casually. "Why for years and years. At first, she was too young to even use in any of the acts, but her mother had died years ago and the acrobatic troupe that had been raising her broke up, and... well, the kid bad no place to go and nothing but a pathetic little envelope full of papers and photographs, so I took her in and found some things for her to do that didn't involve performing for the customers. She and Leona (Oh, you don't remember Leona, do you? She left the show a couple of years back.) Anyway, she and Leona worked out that cat act and when Leona left, Molly took over. But why so interested in Molly? Should I be jealous?" "Oh no," I answered quickly. "Just curious, that's all." "Well that better be all," She Devil moaned and leaned forward, I felt the hairs between her legs brush across my smooth bottom as her full breasts flattened against my bare back, and I felt that old familiar ache in my pussy. Did I say Pussy? I mean the ache was in my male genitals, of course, hidden behind the false pussy. Funny how I was getting confused about that lately. But She Devil was still talking. "I want you all to myself, you magnificent animal, you," she was saying. "I want to cage you and keep you and have you perform just for me. And I want to have you feeding right out of my hand... or right out of any place else I think of! "Oh yes," I sighed, helpless to resist this woman's lesbian charms. "Any thing for you, She Devil!" "All right, Animal!" she giggled. "Play Horsie for me!" "What?" I half rolled over and looked up at her quizzically. "You heard me," she insisted softly. "Play Horsie! Come on now, up on your hands and knees, right between my legs here... That's right! Oooo, that feels sexy! Now carry me around the room this way! That's it! Giddyap, Horsie!" And, odd as it may seem, I, Martin Howard, a man of considerable wealth (and on my way to much more) did just as she asked -- willingly! Nude and completely feminized, I happily carried this equally naked circus performer around the room on my back, feeling my breasts sway beneath me as I walked, revelling in the exciting jiggle of my bare pink rump as She Devil swatted it playfully. And then, when my ride had ended us up in the bedroom, I took my reward, lapping gratefully between her tempting nether- lips until she at last moaned in fulfillment and felt my own body tingle with naughty lesbian enjoyment. After then, it seemed like all She Devil wanted to do when we were together was some variation on the "horsie" game. As soon as I entered her trailer, I would have to strip naked and drop to my knees to approach her. When I did this, she would rub me affectionately behind the ears and call me a Good Horsie, and if there was time she would have me fetch the Bridle. Ah yes, the Bridle. I really didn't care much for this, but She Devil had it made up specially for me by the Round-Up Girls, and she seemed to really love having me wear it, so I humored her. Basically, it was a set of leather straps that buckled tightly around my head, fastened to a semi-soft plastic tube about half an inch long and an inch in diameter. This tube was placed between my teeth and the straps adjusted so that I was biting down on it, my teeth fitting into little grooves on the outside. When She Devil had finished putting this thing on me, my mouth was held open and she could jerk my head side to side by pulling on the reins. I could make little whinnying noises, but intelligible speech was out the question so long as this thing was on. And She Devil had a host of devilish little tricks for keeping it in place! One evening, while wearing it, I happened to turn my back to her and suddenly felt my wrists seized from behind. In no time, my hands were cuffed behind me and She Devil was laying down the law: "Now Horsie," she said with mock severity. "You've been very lax in your duties lately, so I'm going to do a little something to impress you with how much I love having you all for my very own Horsie and how I hate to see you spending so much time in Molly's trailer. Understand?" I whined and nodded my head, agreeing that I shouldn't be spending so much time there. Actually, I had almost found what I was after...... but She Devil took my assent as permission to punish me "Very well," she said, uncoiling a length of rope. "Kneel down!" I did as she ordered, unsure of where all this was leading, and quickly found that she had bound my left ankle to my upper left thigh and was doing the same with my right! As always with She Devil, I was completely nude except for my bridle, and as she fussed over me, I felt myself oddly excited by the feel of her leather boots brushing against me, the whisper of her tan denim jodhpurs, and the softness of her breasts through her white silk blouse as she leaned over me. But this was no time to think of that. What was happening to me? She Devil tied each ankle immovably to its thigh, and now she was tying my knees together with a long, long length of the soft but strong nylon rope. As I looked down in wonder, she took the unused portion of this rope, which was sticking out from behind my bent knees, and was using it to wrap my bent legs! Around and around she went, tightening and re-tightening, until my leg stumps were bound together like a mummy, encircled by yards and yards of the white cord, from my ankles and upper thighs right down to my pink knees. But She Devil wasn't finished there. In no time, she had produced a frilly, lace trimmed, corset of heavy white satin, reinforced with strong plastic ribs, and she was fastening this thing around my middle, tugging mercilessly at the laces. Ooogh! I felt my waist being nipped in to breathless tightness as She Devil pulled and pulled at the laces. The frilly white satin trim at the top and bottom of this brushed the undersides of my breasts and tickled the hairs at the top of my pussy as She Devil at last judged it confining enough and tied it off. "Now what shall we do with those hands of yours?" She Devil mused. "Horsies don't have hands, you know! I have it!" She went to her medicine cabinet and soon returned with two big rolls of white surgical taps. Taking each hand separately, she bent the fingers and proceeded to wrap it firmly into a useless half fist, leaving only the thumbs free. I wondered about this briefly.. until She Devil made her next move! With a smooth motion, she unlocked my handcuffs and before I could think what to do, tied my thumbs together in front of me with a length of white nylon ribbon. Then, to finish things off, she ran a length of narrow white nylon cord from my thumbs to my knees, leaving about two feet of slack between them. "There now!" She Devil stood up and smiled down at me. "Horsie won't go wandering off now, will she?" I looked at myself in a full length mirror on the far wall and blushed with shame. Crouched there on my hands and knees, I was a pink and white picture of helpless submission. The white bondage encircling my bent up legs and hands went perfectly with my white satin corset, accentuating the flesh tones of exposed breasts and bottom, which now reared up behind me in humiliating prominence. Encircled by my dark hair and the leather straps of my bridle, my pretty feminine face gaped uselessly at the sight I made, down on all fours and completely unable to rise, to take off my bridle... to do anything but what I was ordered! And, standing over me, toying with a shiny black riding crop, She Devil obviously had some interesting orders planned! "Move around some, Horsie!" she giggled softly. "I want to study your movements. Get along now!" As best I could, I moved my bound fists forward on the carpet, then wiggled my ass behind me, sliding my knees forward to catch up. Then, when I had a little more slack, I repeated the whole shameful process: First a breathtaking jerk with my taped fists, then a tail wagging shuffle with my hampered knees to catch up. She Devil laughed delightedly at my antics. "How cute!" she chuckled, flexing the riding crop in her hands. "But I wonder what would happen if I used this!" I quailed at the sight of the leather quirt, shaking my head and whining for all I was worth, and She Devil laughed again. "Oh, I don' t mean to spank your naughty bottom with," she tittered. "Not right now, anyway! But look what happens when I tickle your nipples with it... my! They're standing right up! And you're moaning! Now what happens when I brush it across the soles of your bare feet? Does that tickle? My, your bottom bounces when you jump like that! And the way your titties shake is positively indecent! Settle down Horsie!" Somehow, I made myself stop bucking and stood there (if being forcibly tied down on one's hands and knees can be called "standing") quivering with anxiety and sexual tension as She Devil softly stroked my naked flanks with her hand, then playfully tickled me under the nose with the tip of the riding crop. "And now, Horsie, it's time you were punished for spending so much time in Molly's trailer and making She Devil jealous!" Punished? You mean there was more? Yes, apparently there was, because She Devil went on: "You see, it's just now Show Time and I'm going to be busy for the next few hours coordinating some of the acts. I had thought about just tying your reins to a post out in the middle of the campgrounds and leaving you there, but now I have a better idea:" "After the Show, I'm going straight to your trailer. When I get there, I want to find you, bound just as you are now. That means you'll have to hustle your cute little ass all the way there from here! Fortunately for your sake, there won't be too many girls in this area during the show, but you'll have some pleasant moments trying to keep from being seen like that, my little modest missie! I think I may also tell the girls that there's a reward out for whoever catches you out and ties you to her trailer, just to make things interesting! So, there you have it, Horsie: You've got about three hours to sneak across camp and lock yourself in your trailer until I come for you. If you're caught, your fate will be up to whoever catches you. But if you don't, at least try to make it, and I find you still in here when I come beck after the show..." She smiled impishly. "Well, let's just say that this nasty old riding crop has a lot of applications! 'Ta now!" And, blowing me a kiss, she vanished out the door! I don't know how long I huddled there in that trailer, feeling my arms and legs stiffen in their restraints, chafing under the growing ache in my neck as I strained to hold my head up, and trembling in fear at the prospect of hobbling and crawling clear across camp in this bound-up bare-assed state. I looked at myself miserably in the mirror and my big pink bottom and jiggling bare breasts seemed to mock me. How had a man like me ever gotten into a situation like this? Feminized, bridled, breasted and bound down on all fours, and in this state faced with the prospect of trying to make it clear across the circle of trailers that formed our camp, at the mercy of a bunch of gaudy whores! For the umpteenth time I wondered what spell She Devil had cast over me to get me into a fix like this, then I sighed, nosed open the trailer door and peeked out. It looked good. Everyone was assembled for the Opening Parade and the rest of the camp was deserted. Cautiously I turned around, backed my big rump out the door, and backed carefully down the three steps to the ground. Down on the soft grass at last, I looked around again. Still deserted; I just might make it. But I'd better keep close to the trailers and go around the perimeter rather than cut across; that way, if anyone came, I could always duck under a trailer and hide till they passed. Cautiously, I began my journey: A forward tug on my bound arms, then a jiggling shuffle in my knees to catch up. Then another forward tug. And another shuffle. Tug-shuffle, tug- shuffle, tug-shuffle .... My bridled jaws throbbed with the pain of being kept forced open like this for so long, even as my neck screamed silent agony from the strain of holding my head up to see in front of my. Every forward tug of my bound hands jerked at the rope that secured them to my knees and prevented me from straightening up. My knees burned from the friction of scooting them across the grass, and my bent-up, rope-wrapped legs felt like they were growing numb. I had to stop, rest, and hide somewhere. Then I looked up and saw that I was right in front of Molly's trailer. And the door was ajar! Over the last week or so, I had indeed been spending quite a lot of time there, as She Devil had mentioned; but not for the reason she suspected! Ever since She Devil had dropped that passing comment about Molly showing up with "a pathetic little envelope full of papers and photographs" I had been obsessed with the idea of finding them and seeing if they contained proof of Molly's identity. You see, there was a lot about Holly that led me to believe that she was none other then my long-lost bastard cousin. As She Devil had mentioned, there was a slight physical resemblance between us: nothing major, just a hint around the chin and nose. More importantly though, Molly had mentioned to me once that she had exceptionally strong teeth and had never required any dental work! This was one characteristics that is shared by nearly all the Howard family, and when she told me about it, it clenched my suspicions. All I needed was proof. And the only place to get it would be to find that envelope full of papers and photographs, that until now I hadn't had a chance to really search for! All this and more flashed through my mind in an instant as I tugged and pulled my way up her steps and in the door of her trailer. It might seem terribly foolish of me to try looking for anything in my present state, but I had to rest somewhere anyway, and I knew I might not get a chance like this again soon. Half an hour later, rested and a little more mobile, I began my search. I had found a knife in the kitchenette of Molly's trailer and used it to cut the ribbon that held my thumbs together. With my hands still taped up, it didn't free me by a long shot, but at least I could raise my arms now and use my thumbs to open drawers and such. Being familiar with Molly's trailer, it didn't take me long to find what I was looking for: a strong manila envelope tucked into some old scrapbooks. And everything I needed was right there! A birth certificate from some county in Utah that I'd never heard of, where one Kitty O'Malley, passing through with a troupe of acrobats, had delivered her daughter Molly. There were photographs, of mother and daughter that cinched the whole thing; The Kitty O'Malley in these pictures was obviously the one that Uncle Hubert's detectives were looking for, and the girl with her was just as obviously her daughter Molly! It was all here, everything I needed. And it was in just the right package, too! Without this stuff, much as they might suspect, no one could prove that Molly was really Uncle Hubert's bastard child. With it, the proof would stand up anywhere. And I had it all, right in my hands, to do whatever I wanted with! For just a second, I forgot all about my present condition. I forgot that I was feminized, bound, bare breasted and bare-assed, bridled speechless and hobbling about on my knees. For that brief moment, I was Martin Howard all over again, a man of wealth and status, with infinite possibilities stretching out before him: Should I take this stuff to my greedy relatives and let them bid to buy my silence? Or should I play the hero and be the one to bring the long-lost daughter back to the arms of her dying, loving, and financially grateful repentant father? Either way, I was going to be richer than I ever had been before. All I had to do was tell She Devil that I'd had enough of Circus Life, drop out of the troupe and disappear, only to resurface in a few days as my real self. Well, I decided, all things considered I might as well be Mr. Nice Guy and tell Molly about her inheritance and help her prove her claim to it. Besides, that would give me a chance to see She Devil again, and find out if she'd respond to me as I really was: A man! Sighing through my open-mouth tube, I decided I'd better replace the envelope and try to sneak back to my trailer. Still in my uncomfortable bondage (a little easier now with my arms not bound together, but still awfully awkward) I pranced my ass beck to the scrapbook and, clutching the envelope as best I could with my thumb and taped fist, began putting it back. Even if I hadn't been gagged, I'd have been speechless with shock as I spun around to see who had crept up behind me so quietly. And even if I hadn't been already bound, I'd still have been motionless with guilty terror as I crouched there, incredibly feminine and incredibly helpless, my big pink breasts and ass exposed to the world, and looked up into the smiling face of my gay cousin Roderick! "Hello Martin," he beamed, tucking the envelope into his pocket and pulling out a small, shiny pistol, "Or is it Mattie now? I must say I like your appearance much better now. And your taste in clothing is positively captivating! That is the way you feel now, isn't it? Captivated? I think I'll keep you that way from now on!" He sat down on the edge of the bed, still smiling at me and casually holding the pistol. I felt myself redden under his gaze as his eyes swept up and down shamefully displayed femininity until I was positively burning with embarrassment and helpless humiliation. Miserably unable to speak or run away, I pressed my legs together as best I could and crossed my taped fists over my massive titties. "Good idea!" Roderick chuckled. Then suddenly he reached into another pocket and pulled out two pairs of handcuffs. Before I knew it, be had secured my left wrist to my right forearm vice versa, so that my arms were permanently crossed in front of my curvaceous bare chest. I looked up at him in wonder. "That's just to make sure you keep still while I tell you what's going to happen," he explained, sitting back down. So that you'll know exactly what's going to become of you and our bastard cousin and how helpless you are to prevent any of it. "You see. I suspected back in New York that you were up to something, and the way your appearance was changing (I mean you can't hide a thing like a sex change from a judge of the male form like me!) really piqued my curiosity. So the day after you left. I broke into your apartment and began looking through your records!" My eyes widened in shock as he continued: "It was quite an interesting story I pieced together," he said, "What with your detectives tracing Uncle Hubert's long lost daughter to this all female circus and you feminizing yourself to join the show undercover, so to speak. And I must say that the detail about putting Uncle Hubert's detectives on a false trail so you could have a few weeks to investigate things on your own showed surprising intelligence -- coming from you, I mean." "But I've decided on a little variation of my own. Would you like to hear it, you gorgeous, feminine thing you?. Of course you would! Well, in a few minutes, when that Molly person comes in the door, I'm going to shoot her! I've been practicing quite a bit, so there shouldn't be any difficulty at all in killing her with one shot, and her act finishes first tonight, so there won't be anyone in the area to hear it," he twirled the gun playfully. "Dead eye Roderick, that's me! But you won't be awake to appreciate my marksmanship." He reached into his pockets once more with his free hand and drew out a small hypodermic syringe! I shivered in dread as he went on to outline his plans for me: "You'll be sound asleep by that time, my Dear. That way, you won't give me any trouble when I untape those lovely hands of yours (by the way, it was very considerate of you to put yourself up like that for my benefit! I'm thrilled to discover that you're into bondage too, because that's just how I like my men: bound and feminized! But I digress, don't I?). When I untape those lovely hands of yours and put your fingerprints all over the gun, which I'll leave here. "And you? Well I'm going to wait until very late, then spirit your sleeping form out to my car and off to a hospital near here where I've arranged for Mattie Huntington to have a little plastic surgery! Oh, nothing major; just enough so that no one will recognize you when I bring you back to New York and introduce you as my bride who I picked up in Florida -- which is where everyone thinks I am now, boating! Don't fret so, Beautiful! I know that being my Terribly Submissive Wife will take some getting used to, but since the Police will all be searching for Martin Howard for the murder of this girl Holly, I think you'll find it much better than the alternative! Can you imagine life in a Southwestern Prison? In your condition?" "No, there's no sense in you moaning like that; I'm not going to ungag you and let you argue with me. I've gone to too much trouble in the surrounding area here convincing everyone that I'm you! It wasn't easy buying all the forged identification and such, but believe there is now a very convincing trail of evidence to put you right in this spot and me a thousand,miles away. I even bought this gun in your name! And oh yes, the Relatives are going to pay a pretty penny for me removing both you and your Cousin in one deft stroke. He picked up the syringe, putting his thumb on the plunger and leaned forward. "Sleepy-time, Sweetheart!" he laughed, "when you wake up, Martin Howard will be a wanted fugitive and You will he my Bondage Bride! Now hold still while I slip this needle under your breast... Uh--Wha-- ? Just at that moment the door opened and She Devil entered. Roderick hesitated for an instant, the syringe poised in his hand as he tried to figure out what to do now. And in that instant, I leaned forward, on top of the hand holding the syringe, plunging it deep into his thigh and squeezing the plunger! He squealed, looked sharply at me, then his eyes went soft and he collapsed with a tired moan. She Devil looked back and forth between us, her green eyes flashing. "Just what the Hell is going on here?" she demanded. Ooohruuughuu!" I gurgled through my gag. * * * * * * It was two hours later. She Devil and I were in her trailer, looking at the cold inert form of my late Cousin Roderick. "Guess his heart just couldn't take it," She Devil said. "Too bad for him. And for you too, come to think of it" I was huddled shaking on the overstuffed chair in She Devil's tiny living room, wrapped in a housecoat of flame colored satin that she had thoughtfully given me after she'd untied me and we'd carried my Cousin's body over here unseen. I had told her everything: All about myself, my real sex and identity and what I was doing here -- even my mixed motives in assuming this disguise. I was Just too shaken up to hold anything back. And now I looked at her in fresh consternation. "Me too?" I squeaked. "What do you mean?" "In case you haven't noticed, Babe," She Devil explained coolly, "We're got a dead body here: one that's going to have to be explained to the Police. Said body has a hole from a needle in his thigh and your fingerprints are all over the syringe!" "B-but you said he-he died of a heart attack." I stammered. "For all I know. it could just as easily be an overdose," She Devil replied. "And from what you said this joker ran around buying everything in your name. So when the Police see him, they're going to start putting motive, method, and opportunity together real fast!" "But you saw it" I protested. "You saw me... him..." "What I saw went by so fast I could not even figure it out," she countered. "Not that the cops would buy my story any way. They'd probably just figure me for an Accessory! No, thank you!" "But then-then what are we going to do?" I whimpered pulling the satin housecoat tighter over my smooth, bare, feminine flesh as I curled my shapely legs beneath me for warmth. "I-I can't let them arrest me for murder! I can't let anyone know I've been here like-like this!" "Steady girl." She Devil cautioned. "There Just might be a way to get us both off the hook for your cousin's murder without giving anything away about your work here -- Or your disguise! It'll take a lot of work and a lot of sacrifice on your part, but I think we can carry it off. And like you said your cousin told you: It'll be better than a stretch in prison for murder... in your condition!" "Anything," I assented eagerly. "Any thing would be better than that! What's your idea?" "Just this:" she said. "This Roderick guy went through a lot of trouble, you said, to leave everyone in this area convinced he was you, Martin Howard. Even if we knew what all he'd done, we could probably never erase it. So whatever happens, when they find this stiff, the Police are going to know that Martin Howard was in this vicinity. So what if we carry your cousin Roderick's impersonation of you a step further?" "Wh-what do you mean?" I asked. "Just this," She Devil explained. "You two are roughly the same build and hair color, and from what you've told me, neither. one of you has any fillings, so there won't be any dental records to check. So what do you think the Police would figure if they found a body -- mangled beyond recognition -- dressed in your clothes and carrying your identification?" "Wh-why, they'd think it was me, I guess," I said. "Especially since there would be local records and witnesses who thought they'd seen me in this area! But-but how on earth could we ever explain that mark on his body or-or what you said about him being mangled?" "Easy!" She Devil smiled. "Molly's cats! They seem gentle enough with her, but they just hate strange men! We could even rub some fish oil over the hands and face, to make sure they give those parts a good going over!" I shivered in horror at the thought. But I could see her awful logic: If the Police found my cousin Roderick dead here, and me here also, in disguise, they couldn't help but think I'd killed him; but if they found a body they thought was me, and could piece together stories from witnesses to "prove" that I'd just arrived here and met with an accident in the cats' cage... Then they wouldn't be looking for me at all!. I'd be perfectly safe!. But there was another problem: "She Devil," I said, "One other thing: As soon as word of my 'death' gets out, I'm not going to be able to be me any more! Where will I go? What will I do? "I thought you'd get around to that," She Devil replied, "Well, I owe you something, maybe, for not letting that gay cousin of yours shoot me. And I definitely owe you something for lying to me, getting this whole set up into this fix, and trying to rob poor Molly of her inheritance--" "But I wasn't going to--" "Quiet!" She Devil snapped. "So I figure you can stay on here as one of the girls for awhile. It won't be the easy life you were used to, but it'll be meals and a roof over your head until you decide you'd like to try somet