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With apologies to Jennifer Sue. The following story makes authorized use of the setting and some of the characters painstakingly developed in her monumental *Ladd's Exchange Mall* series (q.v. in these Mania pages). Breaker, Breaker by Jenny Leeds Senator Breaker's heart sank the moment the judge flicked a sympathetic glance at him before seating herself. It would be everything he feared. A bailiff intoned, "The prisoner will rise." Breaker watched Acious slouch to his feet, a sneer on his face. The boy was taller than the average 16-year-old, skinny, pimply, with a prominent Adam's apple; a prototypical Ichabod Crane if it hadn't been for the viciousness native to his expression. His lawyer, a public defender, remained seated, as if wishing to dissociate himself from his client. Judge Fetterman cleared her throat. With every appearance of reluctance she said, "There are times when the law requires decisions that do not meet the usual standards of justice. This is regrettable, but such miscarriages are usually preferable to the kinds of decision that may send innocent persons to jail. Fortunately, it is my experience that people like the prisoner eventually overstep the bounds once too often, and can be put away as they deserve. "The indictment is flawed. Since the victim is unable to testify, and Senator Breaker's testimony is hearsay, and since the efforts of the police have failed to turn up any corroborative evidence, I am bound by the rules. "It is true that there is physical evidence. DNA analysis of the fluids found in and on the victim's person might well provide an indication--and I emphasize this, *only an indication*--of the identities of one or more of the perpetrators, but such analyses are expensive and time-consuming, and in view of the alleged large number of perpetrators in this case, are unlikely to be definitive. The police pathologist asserted in chambers that the intermingling of fluids precludes the likelihood of a conclusive determination." Breaker ground his teeth. It was like rubbing salt in a wound. He had known better; he was a lawyer when he wasn't being a legislator. If only he hadn't been out of his mind with fury he would never have forced arraignment before obtaining sufficient evidence to put before the court. Judge Fetterman continued, "I am obliged to dismiss this case in arraignment. I do so without prejudice. If new evidence should turn up I will hear the charges promptly. Salvador Acious, you are free to go, but know this. If I ever see you in my court again I'll throw the book at you and sentence you, not as a juvenile, but as an adult." As Acious passed Breaker on the way out, he taunted in an undertone, "Up yours, you fuckin' shrimpo, you din' get me." He made kissing noises and massaged his groin. "Man, she was some hot pussy." His snicker echoed in Breaker's ears. But--and this was strange, he had time to marvel at his reaction--instead of re-igniting his rage it had the opposite effect. An icy cold diffused through his system. All right, he decided. The punk got away with it. For now. The law couldn't touch him. He started planning. The chill in his soul was still with him when he called his staff for a conference in his office and revealed his intention to oppose passage of Senate bill number 2,943,176. Overriding their protests, he said, "Look, I know I'm putting my seat on the line, but this is a matter of principle. My job now is to defeat the bill, yours is to make sure I don't do too much harm to my career." He picked up the phone. "Now get going and do some damage control." He waited until his aides closed the office door behind them before dialing. He took a deep breath and marshaled the charm and persuasiveness that had catapulted him into a State Senate seat by the age of thirty. "Mrs. Ladd? This is Senator Bill Breaker ..." By the time he hung up he had persuaded the lady to round up certain of her allies and meet with him for lunch in a private room at *Adam's Rib,* a restaurant in the mall she controlled. She was waiting for him when he arrived, a tall--at least by his standards, she was probably five-ten, compared to his own five-five-- slender, fair lady of impeccable poise and elegance. With her were three other women, but for the moment he concentrated on her, assessing her with the benefit of years of experience at sizing up opponents. A flattering light from stained-glass panes in the cozy room's windows bathed her in subdued radiance and spilled onto a table covered in white damask. China and silverware glinted; a spray of red roses in the center of the table perfumed the air. "So good of you to meet with me on such short notice." He bent over her hand with a courtly gesture. Her response was graceful, but behind her snapping blue eyes he sensed a steel will, and a moment later as she appraised him with a swift glance, he caught a native down-to-earth shrewdness. Hastily he revised his game plan. Lydia Ladd was not going to be a soft touch; he might even have to play it straight with her. He reviewed what he knew of her background. She had inherited her father's successful insurance business and parlayed it into a genuine fortune, part of which she had invested in the construction and development of a huge shopping-apartment-condominium-office complex, almost a city in itself. She had a young daughter, Jennifer Jane, if he recalled correctly, but there was no husband in the picture. His memory told him there had been some domestic difficulty, and she had resumed her maiden name. She was said to be unimpressed with men. If half of what he heard about the program she sponsored was true, he could well believe it. He turned inquiringly to her companions. One was an attractive yellow- haired woman in her early thirties who had an unmistakable air of authority. He liked her on sight. Next to her was a small asthenic-looking woman with dark hair knotted on her head in a bun. The whites of her eyes showed all the way around the pupil, and Breaker thought uncomfortably, "This one's nuts, watch out." The third was impressive. She had to be close to six and a half feet tall and was built like a football linebacker. Short black hair framed a stern countenance. Breaker, who had come to terms with his lack of stature by seeking out political power, nevertheless felt dwarfed. The top of his head came only to the middle of her chest. "Senator Bill Breaker, may I present Dr. Sandra Makes-Shemanski, head of Alternative Care Medical Center," indicating the blonde woman, "Dr. Sarah Balkut, chief surgeon," the crazy woman, "and Justine Kane, director of the Miss Behavior Modification Academy." "I'm delighted to meet you ladies. Especially you, Ms. Kane. I believe we have something in common," Breaker said with deadpan mischief. Not missing a beat, Justine smiled--like a flash of sunlight her smile relieved the severity of her demeanor--and said in an astonishing mellifluous voice at complete odds to her masculine carriage, "The pleasure is mutual. I've often said I wished you could visit me down at the academy." Breaker grinned appreciatively. He knew just what she meant. "Shall we all have a cocktail before lunch? Old friends." Throughout the meal, he deliberately avoided discussing the reason for the meeting, curbing his impatience with a steely self-control, and spent the time drawing each woman out with as much charm as he could muster. At one point Lydia Ladd said with a hint of impatience, "Come now, Senator. You hinted at an important matter. What is it?" "Bear with me, Mrs. Ladd," he gave her a grin he hoped was disarming, "I'm only trying to put my best foot forward before broaching the subject. I know you have good reason to be suspicious of me and my motives, but I assure you what I have to say will be of mutual advantage." At last coffee was served. He allowed the good humor to drain from his face and said seriously, "Ladies, as you know I have been a vigorous opponent of the Miss Behavior system of juvenile rehabilitation, and that I am the author of legislation to proscribe your methods. The bill has passed in the House, and on Thursday, just three days from now, the Senate will vote on it. My aides tell me that passage is assured." He waited for the hard facts of politics to sink in. Dr. Balkut had an expression of thinly disguised, barely-repressed wrath. Justine's face was immobile but it was easy to see her desire to have him in custody. Lydia Ladd looked watchful. He continued, "Suppose I were to reverse my position and use my influence not only to defeat the bill, the bill that I introduced, but to raise funds for other of your facilities to be established throughout the state?" He saw them working to mask their surprise. After a long moment Lydia Ladd said, "All right, Senator. What's your proposition?" "I need some help in a personal matter." "Something so important you are prepared to risk your entire political career? Come now. Nothing is that important." "This is," he gritted. "I'll be candid with you, Mrs. Ladd. I started out offering you a *quid pro quo,* but I will admit now that as a matter of conscience--yes," he said earnestly, "even politicians sometimes have consciences--I plan to reverse my position even if you refuse to help me. "You see, my past stance was based on the fact that your program is a clear violation of civil rights--*human* rights, if you will. However, it has recently been brought to my attention that the dregs of society Ms. Kane deals with are *not* human. They are animals. They have no human rights. If your treatment can take them off the streets and eliminate recidivism, then I most heartily support it. I'll work closely with you and your Department of Corrections people, Max Bentley and Ken Wainwright." "That's quite a speech, Senator," Lydia Ladd said skeptically. "Now tell us exactly what help you require from us. What's the catch?" "No catch. As to what changed my mind, three weeks ago my daughter, a timid, gentle teenager," he said through the lump in his throat, "was viciously raped." For a moment he couldn't go on. He choked, "By a dozen youths who broke into our home and assaulted her repeatedly. She was a virgin. I came home to find her naked and bruised and bleeding between the legs in a corner of the living room, holding her knees and rocking back and forth and moaning. Hysterically she identified her assailants. They were punks from her high-school class, led by a tough named Salvador Acious. "During her examination at the Emergency Room semen was collected from her vagina, anus, mouth, and outer skin. "During the night at the hospital she slipped into a catatonic state. The doctors are doing their best, but tell me she may never come out of it. At any rate she is unable to testify. These hoodlums will not even come to trial. Even if they did, the law is such that they would be acquitted. "I want them punished." There was a silence. Through the closed door he heard the rattle of dishes and somnolent conversation of diners in the main room. A trembling savage look possessed Dr. Balkut's visage. Dr. Makes- Shemanski frowned sympathetically, a small tear glistening in the corner of an eye. Justine was grim. The gentle light filtering through the private room's windows showed Lydia Ladd's thoughtful expression. "What do you want from us?" "Exactly what, I'm not sure. I don't know enough about your techniques yet. I'd bring the principal perpetrator to you, to be treated with some, but not all, I think, of the procedures utilized by your program. The other eleven ... I'll arrange matters so as to have Justice Joyce Fetterman turn them over to Ms. Kane." "The ringleader--a court would order him into Justine's custody?" "Er, no. I would bring him to you. It would be a kidnapping." There. It was out in the open. Now they knew the extent of his iniquity. A law-abiding man all his life, an officer of the court, a State senator, proposing to commit one of the most heinous crimes on the books. And it wouldn't stop there. He was perfectly willing to compound the felony by total, ruthless, malicious, irrevocable revenge. Dr. Balkut's eyes gleamed. She said, "It sounds like a good idea. Let's do it!" Sandra Makes-Shemanski laughed and patted Dr. Balkut's hand. "Now, Sarah. You just can't wait to add to your collection, can you?" "It's illegal," Justine Kane noted mildly. Dr. Balkut retorted, "Since when has that ever stopped us?" Dr. Makes-Shemanski said, "But whatever we did was for the good of who we did it to. I don't think that's what the senator has in mind. I don't blame him," she added. "It reminds me of Bridget and Marie," Dr. Balkut salivated. He didn't know who Bridget and Marie were, but saw that the remark gave Lydia Ladd pause. She said, "We need a little time to think this over." Rising gracefully, "Thank you so much for lunch, Senator. We'll be back to you soon." "I'll wait for your call." "In the meantime, perhaps Justine can explain the Miss Behavior program in detail for you." She lifted her eyebrows, "Would you have the time to show Senator Breaker around? And you, Senator?" "I'd be happy to learn more, if it wouldn't inconvenience Ms. Kane." Justine said, "Of course! There's nothing I'd like better than showing the senator around ... unless it would be entertaining him as a special guest of the academy." It was hard to see the twinkle in her eye, but he decided it was there, and smiled. "Just the VIP tour, if you please." She looked at her watch. "Come along, then. School is about to let out, and half an hour later I have to be on hand to greet a new batch of delinquents." "I'll come, too," said Dr. Makes-Shemanski. "If you're going to be busy 'welcoming' Stage-Oners, I can explain the process to Senator Breaker." They took their leave of Lydia Ladd and Dr. Balkut and walked out of Ladd's Exchange Mall to the school. Breaker found himself almost running to keep up with Justine Kane's strides. He couldn't help feeling like *Mutt and Jeff* beside the imposing woman. Oddly, he was reassured by her height and bulk instead of intimidated. The competitive reaction he experienced when in the presence of big men was missing. He looked humorously at Dr. Makes-Shemanski, who was having the same trouble keeping up. She gave him a breathless smile. Under a leaden November sky they skirted snowdrifts in the court on the way to the brick building that housed the former Church school. He examined the bronze plaque beside the massive oak doors. "St. Francis of Asissi School? Asissi? Somebody can't spell." The two women looked at each other. Justine's melodious laugh rang out. "This used to be St. Francis of Assisi--A-S-S-I-S-I--Parochial School. I was 'Sister Justine' then. When Ladd's Exchange acquired it from the Church, we changed the spelling to Asissi, as it's inscribed there. It's a pun. You'll see." Just then the doors opened and a gaggle of pretty teen-age girls streamed out, laughing, chattering, and clutching their books to their budding chests. They were dressed in the school uniform, a hot-pink sleeveless scoop-necked velveteen jumper with a gently-flaring pleated skirt that ended two inches above the knee. Their soft pink nylon blouses had Peter Pan collars of delicate lace; the sleeve cuffs were trimmed with the same lace. Their ponytails were tied with intertwined ribbons, one of hot pink and the other of a pale pink that matched their blouses. They looked utterly delightful. A lump came into his throat. Carol had been that happy and carefree. If only he had sent her here instead of the public school! But no, he had to prove himself a "man of the people" and send his only child to mingle democratically with the masses. Apparently devining the tenor of his thoughts, Dr. Makes-Shemanski put an arm through his and squeezed it sympathetically. He tried to think of something to say. "Oh, I see. It's an all-girls school." Again a look passed between Justine and Dr. Makes-Shemanski . The doctor said slowly, "Not exactly. About half the student body is, or was, male, just as in any other school. What you are seeing is an extension of what we call petticoat discipline. Punishing boys by making them wear girls' dresses has always been a most effective way to take them down a peg and make them behave. "Not very long ago, however, the Society--the Petticoat Discipline Society--decided it would be in the school's best interests not to wait until a boy acted up before disciplining him, but instead require that boys as well as girls wear the uniforms you see. The new policy has been successful beyond our wildest dreams--rowdy behavior is nonexistent, class studies move forward without distraction, and since the boys wear delicate lingerie themselves, there is no longer any reason for them to flip a girl's skirt to see what's under it." Justine chipped in, "After their initial chagrin, the boys take great pleasure in their frilly clothes. Most of them continue to wear dresses at home after school, and their parents are enchanted with their new demure, well-behaved 'daughters'. Eventually many of the boys, more than half, ask for treatment to become girls physically, if only because they are embarrassed about being sissies--sissies? St. Francis of A Sissy, get it? Haw!--" she elbowed him in the ribs, almost knocking him over, "for if they are real girls, then enjoying frills and silken lingerie isn't sissy, it's normal. Now look around. Do you see any difference in uniforms?" "No-o ... Wait a minute, those two have pale blue ribbons in their hair. Is that what you mean?" "They also have blue lace panties under their skirts. Girls with that slight variation of uniform are boys who, for one reason or another, still retain functional male organs. The number grows smaller every day. When a girl first appears wearing pink ribbons the whole class celebrates and the other 'pink' girls welcome her into their midst." "Th-those girls are *boys?* I can't believe that. They're too feminine!" "You think that's something? Come with me." She put a strong heavy arm around his shoulders and urged him towards a straggly group of teenagers heading for a forbidding gray stone compound, a mature woman at their head. "Girls!" she called. "Ms. Kirsten, stop a minute. I want the girls to meet someone." The girls turned. When they saw who had spoken, they hastily curtsied. He was impressed. He hadn't seen a curtsy in many years. Even his daughter hadn't curtsied since she was ten years old in dancing school, when the boys awkwardly bowed in return, one hand at the small of their backs, the other at their stomachs. Still holding him with unconscious strength, Justine said, "This is State Senator Bill Breaker. He has come down from the capitol to learn about our little program, so no misbehaving when you get back to the compound, hear?" She spoke severely, but the girls giggled fearlessly as they responded in unison, "No, Ms. Kane. Hello, Senator Breaker." They dropped him another charming curtsy. "Hi, ladies. I'm very happy to meet you all. School's out for the day, is it? I suppose you're headed for the malt shop." A pretty blonde curtsied again before saying, "No sir, to dance class! Ms. Kirsten is our instructor. Today we're going to have go-go dancing. If you want to watch us," she said saucily, "maybe she'll let us dance topless!" The girls burst into a storm of giggles. He grinned as Justine scolded, "Alice, you're incorrigible. Ms. Kirsten, I want you to see that this naughty child writes 'I will be more respectful to senators in the future' five hundred times tonight. Well," she amended, "at least five times." Laughter tinkled from the troupe of pink-clad misses. "Now be on your way. Get out of my sight, all of you." Without waiting for their curtsies she turned, still holding him about the shoulders, and headed for a barred gateway. Dr. Makes-Shemanski put her hand in his to keep up. "Eight ... eight weeks ago," she panted, "those girls were consigned to Justine ... from the Juvenile Court. They were ... the worst kind of thugs and hoodlums you can imagine, all of them boys!" He was still in a state of shocked disbelief when they entered a room filled with esoteric electronics, switches, monitors, and consoles. It looked like something out of *Star Trek.* Justine glanced swiftly at a monitor that showed a Department of Corrections bus releasing twenty hard-bitten young hoodlums into a narrow alley, thumped her muscular 250 pounds down on a command chair, and boomed into a microphone, "Take off your clothes." In the monitors the boys looked around to see where the voice was coming from. One snarled, "Fuck you." Another picked it up, "Up yer ass, bitch!" He was reminded of nothing so much as a band of savage, dangerous baboons. Justine punched a button in front of her. Before Breaker's bewildered eyes the boys clapped their hands to their ears and sank to their knees, identical expressions of agony on their faces. He turned to Dr. Makes- Shemanski. She smiled and whispered, "We can't hear it in here, but they are being subjected to an intolerable sound. Come, we'll go into the lounge so as not to disturb Justine. She'll be busy for quite a while. We'll have a cocktail and I'll explain the program stages." She took his arm. Drinks in hand they settled on a paisley divan in a luxuriously-appointed room. The furniture was period French, gracefully constructed of gleaming mahogany. Breaker relaxed against the cushions and sipped his martini. "Doctor, Ms. Kane said something about boys in the school who retain functional male organs. Does that mean some of them don't?" "First, let's not do 'Doctor' and 'Senator' any more, all right? I'm Sandra, and I'll call you Bill. Yes, most of the boys eventually opt to have their male organs removed and replaced with a vagina. Moreover, recent developments in our research facilities have enabled us to grow ovarian and uterine systems that can be implanted in the former boys to permit them to become pregnant and deliver children." "You're kidding." "I won't go into the details, it's very complicated, and unless you have a degree in biology, wouldn't mean much; but basically an X-chromosome set is taken from the boy's sperm, used to fertilize an egg from a female relative, usually his mother, and by manipulation of haploid bodies a female embryo is created to provide the necessary buds to implant in the patient's body." "That's incredible. I don't know whether to believe you or not. Are you pulling my leg?" "I'd love to." She gave his limbs a slow mischievous look. "No, I assure you it's true. So far we've had one hundred percent success. Why not? The implant is mostly the subject's own genetic material. My former husband was the first in the world to be treated. He--she--gave birth to a five-pound baby girl last July." "Your husband!" "Former husband. She's now my beautiful sister. Victor was injured in one of those awful police actions in South America and had no choice but to become Victoria. I'll tell you what, if you're free for dinner why don't you come home with me after we're through here and meet her? That is, if Justine will let you go." He laughed. "She's something else, isn't she. Tell me, is she--that is, was she--?" "Was she a man?" Sandra tittered. "You would think so, wouldn't you? No, she's a natural-born female. She rose to the top in a man's world, though. Before she began teaching she took an early retirement from the Army as a colonel. She likes you, I can tell. I've never seen her take to someone, someone male that is, so quickly. I think it's because she respects power and authority, and a senate seat imbues you with both." She touched his thigh lightly. "It's just the opposite with me. The reason *I* like you is not your power, but that you appear to be a gentle, sensitive person. You will come to dinner, won't you?" He shifted uncomfortably. Her innocent touch and words caused warmth in his genitals. He was about to have an embarrassing erection. To forestall it, he made himself croak, "I'd like that," and hastily cleared his throat to say, "You were going to tell me about the Miss Behavior program." "You just saw the beginning of it all. The first few weeks are the roughest. Justine and her matrons attack the boys' perverted machismo with a large arsenal of weapons, including absolute, unforgiving punishment for the least infraction of discipline. There's a lot of screaming." She grinned evilly. "Carrot-and-stick techniques are used liberally. By 'carrot-and-stick' we don't mean the usual reference to the farmer who hangs a carrot from a stick in front of his mule so that the mule will chase it, pulling the wagon behind him. We mean punishment--the stick--for improper behavior, reward and praise--the carrot--for proper behavior. The subjects are first chewed up, soaked in spit, and then remolded like papier-mache. "They are made to wear electric collars which can be activated in varying degrees of severity, from a 'reminder' to total incapacitation. When your least disrespectful comment can result in an immediate *zap* and when in the evening you are humiliatingly spanked with your pants down--by a woman, mind you--in front of your peers for the day's infractions, you very quickly learn to toe the mark. "In addition, the boys are put on a regimen which surreptitiously includes ingestion of testosterone blockers to flush male hormones from their systems, estrogen amplifiers to increase the level of female hormones, 'James Bond' underwear that causes the genitals to shrink; enhances the bosom, hips and buttocks; and steadily kills hair roots on the boys' trunks. A special toothpaste tightens their vocal cords. Creams and shampoos and conditioners, all generously laced with estrogen, are a routine part of their toilets. "They are forced to work hard at schoolwork all day sitting in front of individual computer terminals which zap their collars when their attention falters even momentarily, and are compelled to participate in 'aerobic' exercises, which are in reality ballet lessons. "They are exhausted, mentally, emotionally, and physically, by lights- out time, easy victims for subliminal training during sleep. The tapes start by conditioning them to ordinary acceptable modes of behavior, but go on in several stages to 'sissify' them and make them want nothing so much as to be demure females. The hypnotic tapes cover anti-violence--they end up being sickened and hysterical by even the thought of violence. Unfortunately, that leaves them defenseless in real-world situations, but it can't be avoided. They address neatness; manners; mode of dress--starting by feeling uncomfortable in sloppy clothes, ending with a compulsion to wear dresses and frills; personal appearance--from ordinary good grooming to an obsession with cosmetics; mannerisms; and finally emotions. Any feelings of anger or hatred will make them ill, and a need to be accepted and loved is deeply implanted. "Then, to top it off, the boys' by-then shrunken genitals are painlessly chemically castrated. They are so brainwashed they welcome it. They are given what Dr. Balkut calls a 'tuck' to preserve the empty tube of their penises against the future formation of vaginas, the skin of the scrotal sack is folded to become labia, and the urethra is cropped and repositioned so they have to sit to, er, tinkle. "All this takes place in Stage One, which lasts about four weeks. By the time they are ready for Stage Two they have been almost completely feminized. Their breasts approach an A-cup in size and are developing rapidly, their waists are narrow, bottoms cute and round, and their demeanor is that of happy fluff-headed demure teenage girls. Stage Two is what you saw in front of the school. They no longer have electric collars and are permitted to associate with 'civilian' schoolmates. Stage Two also lasts a month; Stage Three is a follow-up until they are eighteen or graduated from high school. They will be operated on to become fully- functioning females in a sexual sense, possibly, no, *probably,* given the uterine and ovarian implants I mentioned before. Poor dears, they'll have to become used to menstrual periods a lot later in life than most of us!" She smiled ruefully. "They will no longer be required to wear uniforms outside of school, and will be allowed to date boys. "I know that at first all this must sound uncommonly cruel and arbitrary. You were quite right, it *is* an abridgment of their civil rights. But bear in mind that these girls end up overjoyed at what has been done to them, and are ready to become decent members of society, wives and mothers and, if they take advantage of scholarships awarded by the Ladd Foundation, even professionals." Senator Breaker sat in deep thought. He said finally, "They looked happy." "Who?" "The girls at the school." "They were! In this case, the end really does justify the means." The image of Sal Acious's sneer and the memory of his mocking laugh filled his mind. "She was some hot pussy" overlay the picture of his daughter's sad face staring into inner space with despairing eyes. "It's a reward, isn't it? Not a punishment for their crimes." She said, "Frankly, I agree. What did those boys ever do to deserve the privilege of becoming girls? But as a public servant, you above all should know that politics is the art of the possible. At least this treatment prevents them from ever doing harm again. That's the best we can expect in this sorry world." "Ye-es," he agreed doubtfully. She stood up abruptly and held her hand out to him. "Come on. We'll say good-bye to Justine. She's going to be busy until lights-out. These first days are a trial." He followed her back into the control room. On the monitors was a close-up of a blindfolded frightened-looking boy standing in a wire cage. The cage was no more than ten inches deep by 20 inches wide. The boy could hardly move. He was stark naked; his rock-star-long hair hung wet and bedraggled to his shoulders. Breaker opened his mouth to ask if the cage was one of their cells, when the image of a white-clad matron came on-screen, opening small hatches in the wire mesh, poking, prodding, listening through a stethoscope, drawing blood, and administering injections. He saw shock on the boy's face when she opened hatches front and rear, inserted a finger in the boy's anus and expertly massaged him to ejaculation as she held a test tube to his penis. He shot a look at Sandra. She blushed and looked modestly at the floor. Justine swiveled the command chair to face them as the cage swung off- screen on an overhead track and another came into view. "Physicals and hormone injections," she said in that surprising melodic voice. "We have the county's medical reports, but we like to give 'em short-arm inspections and finger waves to put them in their place. These yardbirds are on a production line now, just a little extra touch of humiliation. I'll go down next and address them personally." Sandra said, "Bill agreed to come to dinner with Vicki and me. I know you're going to be especially busy today. We'll leave you to it." He discerned a glimmer in Justine's eye as she glanced back and forth between them, but she confined herself to a mild, "Come back next Monday. I think you'll be interested in the changes that will have taken place." To avoid the November chill they walked most of the way through the enclosed mall. Breaker was impressed by its size and the number and variety of businesses it contained. It was a testimony to the acumen of Lydia Ladd; he was glad he hadn't tried to con her. Sandra's house surprised him. Only half a block from the mall, it was a full three stories tall, a rambling wood-frame Victorian manor painted Copen blue, with black shutters on its numerous windows. A curl of smoke from one of its chimneys bespoke a cheerful fire within. He gave a low whistle. "Making boys into girls must be lucrative," he said slyly. She laughed. "It does look pretentious, doesn't it? But we need the space. There are eight of us including the baby. There's me and Vicki, my four children, and our mother. And little Elspeth, Vicki's daughter." "Vicki is ... ? Victoria? Your ex-husband?" He followed her up the steps to the front porch. "He ... she really did give birth? You weren't kidding me." He wondered who the father was and if she had remarried, only now she would be a wife instead of a husband, and what *that* felt like. For that matter, what it felt like to have a man put it in you and give you a baby. It made him dizzy. "Not a bit, it's all true." When she opened the door she was assaulted by a pair of pretty flame-haired children who hugged her around the waist crying, "Mommy Mommy, you're home! Come help us with our needlepoint, we can't get the stitches even, and Grandma Grace just says Try Again, the way she always does!" "And what do I say when Grandma says Try Again?" They pouted. "You say Try Again too. You're no fun." They saw Breaker behind her and eyed him shyly. "Girls, we have an extra special guest for dinner. This is Senator Bill Breaker, who came all the way from the state capitol to meet you all." She turned to him. "These are my ten-year-old twins, Paula and Lynda." As one, the children released their mother and curtsied. "How do you do, Senator Breaker? We're very happy to meet you." His eyes stung as he thought of his daughter. He had to clear a lump from his throat before saying, "I'm very happy to meet *you,* young ladies." Sandra squeezed his arm sympathetically. The children looked at each other. "Girls, help the senator with his coat and then clean up your needlework and get ready for dinner." She hung her coat in the hall closet and watched with an amused smile as the fresh-smelling youngsters swarmed over him, vying to see who could divest him of his clothes quicker. In the living room two older children with strawberry-blonde locks sprang to their feet and waited with bright blue eyes exactly the shade of their mother's, to be introduced. Sandra said, "Senator Bill Breaker, may I present my daughters Lisa and Phyllis? Girls, best behavior, now, or the senator will pass legislation to have you outlawed." The girls giggled wildly and curtsied as prettily as their siblings. Breaker said, "Another pair of twins? Charming." He took their hands one by one and bent over them in a sketchy Continental kiss. Red-faced with pleasure and an incipient adoration, one of them explained, "We just look alike. I'm twelve-going-on-thirteen, and Lisa's eleven-going-on-twelve. Are you really a senator?" Sandra excused herself to change into "something more comfortable," and he found himself being entertained by four enchanting pre-teens. A very grown-up Phyllis mixed him a martini with solemn ceremony, and then spoiled the dignity of the occasion by staring anxiously as he took a sip, and bursting out, "Is it okay? Did I do it right?" Lynda and Paula sidled next to him, one on either side, as he joked with the girls and told them outrageous stories about the state capitol. They looked like they wanted nothing so much as to climb into his lap. None of them noticed Sandra in the doorway, clad in a peach-colored watered-silk sarong-style dress held together by a bow at the hip. From the way it caressed her body it was obvious she wore little underneath. The wraparound skirt was enticingly open to mid-thigh. She watched the five of them with a fond expression. Lynda said, "You're very handsome." Paula said, "Are you Mommy's boyfriend?" "I'm down here on a kind of business trip, to learn more about the Miss Behavior Academy." He hoped they wouldn't notice he hadn't answered the question. Lisa said, "You're nice. I like you better than Kendra or Randi. --Are you going to stay the night?" "Children! Stop tormenting the poor man and go wash up for dinner. Sorry about that," Sandra said. As the four girls ran out in a flutter of skirts, a tall slender woman with shoulder-length hair of the identical flaming red of the twins appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, drying her manicured hands on an apron. A cute dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose only added to her stunning beauty. She exuded an aura of humid sexuality. Sandra said, "Oh, here's Vicki. Darling, come and meet our dinner guest, Senator Bill Breaker." Her stride was lissome as she advanced toward him. A humorous twinkle showed in her eyes. "Breaker? Aren't you the one who's against petticoat discipline? Watch out, Sandy will have you in skirts before you know it!" Breaker, who had been preparing himself for meeting Victoria eventually, and had wondered if he would be encountering nothing more than a strange-looking man in a dress, laughed immoderately. He was surprised, relieved, and enormously impressed with her feminine appearance. There was no hint that she had ever been a man. They chatted in a desultory way for a few minutes, and he had a chance to meet Grace Makes, an attractive woman who carried her years with dignity and a surprising vivacity. If she was Sandra's mother she had to be over 50, but she looked a full ten years younger, except for silver strands in her hair, not a day over 40. She apologized for not having been on hand to greet him when he arrived, and explained that she and Vicki had been preparing dinner. "Serves you right on such short notice. We did our best to dress it up, but it's still pot luck!" The entire family was enchanting, he thought as they went to the kitchen to eat, open and charming and natural. He had no trouble feeling at home, and when Sandra's thigh pressed casually against his under the table, he found himself wishing he would be invited to spend the night after all. After dinner the girls did the dishes and Mrs. Makes gathered them together and excused herself to settle them for bed. Paula and Lynda gave him hugs and wet kisses before going upstairs. Phyllis and Lisa looked as if they wished they could do the same, but with pretty decorum curtsied instead. Vicki said, "Oh, another district heard from." A thin sleepy wail came from upstairs. "Elspeth needs her dinner, too." Sandra hooked her arm through his as they went into the living room and sat on the sofa. "Want to watch TV?" "Do you? I'd much rather talk to you." "You old charmer. So would I. Tell me about your change of plan. How are you going to undo all the harm you did in the Senate?" "I don't anticipate a problem." He explained that his aides were already contacting his allies, playing on their sympathies by describing his personal tragedy, and that he would be holding a news conference before the vote pleading for a non-partisan defeat of the bill by all right-minded legislators. "Without the Senate, the bill will die. But there's a lot more to do. We have to go back to the House and introduce new legislation to expand your program state-wide." "Your--personal tragedy ... Bill, have you seen your daughter since ... ?" A lump came into his throat. "Y-yes. She's ... a stranger. She sits rigid in one position and doesn't know the outside world exists. The doctors told me she's probably reliving the experience over and over. Physically-- she's all right. She'll be discharged as soon as I can find a suitable facility." She patted his hand. "I know just the place." She told him about Alternative Care Medical Center and a psychologist named Dr. Helen Alterson. "I'll get the ball rolling first thing in the morning. We can have her transferred tomorrow." "I'm very grate--" He broke off as Vicki came in cradling a baby in her arms. "It's too chilly upstairs. Do you mind if I feed Elspeth down here?" He said, "Of course not. I like kids," and then was taken aback when she sat on his other side and opened the top of her shirtwaist dress. She held her breast between thumb and forefinger to aim the nipple. The baby fastened to it and sucked greedily. Breaker felt his face redden, but couldn't look away. Her breast was a full B-cup, pert and fair, yielding softly to the pressure of her hand. Sandra giggled. "I think Bill was expecting a bottle." "Oh dear. Is he embarrassed?" He said, "Just surprised. Sandra said you ..." He didn't finish his sentence, afraid to venture into a delicate area. "Were a man? Don't be shy. I was. But not any more, thank God. Elspeth is really my baby, you know. I gave birth to her. By Caesarean, naturally, after you're grown there's not much hormones will do to change your bone structure." "H-how--that is, did you have artificial insemination?" "Artificial insemination! I should say not. What's the fun in that?" "Oh." Breaker knew he was blushing like a fool. "Who's the father, if I'm not being too personal?" The conversation was giving him an enormous hard-on; he crossed his legs to conceal it. "A former boyfriend. When we told him I was once a man he was all shook up, but I guess what he was getting from me," she turned a pretty pink, "was worth it. Then I got pregnant. It was too much for him, and we agreed to split up." "He sounds like a fool." "Aren't you sweet. If Sandy hadn't seen you first, I'd point my best knee at you!" Holding the nursing baby carefully she leaned forward to twinkle across him at Sandra. "Mother said you better not let this one go, hurry up and let him know you want him to make a pass at you." Sandra laughed. "Fat chance, with all of you hovering around, kids and babies, and you brazenly tempting him with your tits," she said as Vicki poked her finger in the corner of Elspeth's mouth to break the suction, and transferred her to the other breast without bothering to cover up the first. His hard-on threatened to stretch the wool of his trousers beyond repair. It caught Vicki's eye. "Oh my goodness," she choked suddenly, staring at it. Her face went immobile, sick with lust. "Oh, Sandy ..." Sandra's eyes got wide. Her lips trembled as they tried out a smile. "Bill! You might not be tall, but you're certainly *big!* No don't," she said as he bashfully covered his immodesty with his hand. "Don't! We've never seen anything like it. It's cruel, we've been so deprived for so long. --You *will* spend the night, won't you?" She put her arms around him and nuzzled his cheek and neck. "Please. Pretty please." Gently she pushed his covering hand out of the way and put hers on him. He gasped, "Just try to send me away," but he was confused. She said "we". Did that mean she had in mind a, what did they call it, a menage a trois kind of thing? Two women and a man in bed together? But one of them would be an *ex-man!* He didn't know if he could handle that. His prick shouted *Yes!* but his sense of propriety quailed. "You two go ahead," Vicki said. "I have to put Elspeth down," and he had a mixed feeling of disappointment and relief. Sandra kissed him, stood up, and tugged him to his feet. She led him upstairs to a large bedroom dominated by a king-size four- poster bed hung with old-rose drapery. The very air was scented by lilacs. She said, "The kids and Grandma Grace are on the next floor up. We can be private here." Kicking off her heels made her the same height as him. She tugged at his necktie, unknotting it, and held her face close to be kissed. He embraced her deeply, vividly conscious of the sliding pressure of her tummy against his erection. He let his tongue slip between her tender generous lips; she pressed them about it and sucked on it. When she twitched the bow at her left hip, her dress fell open. She was wearing nothing underneath. Her slender fingers busied themselves with his shirt buttons and belt buckle, and soon his bare chest felt the soft thrust of her bosom. Before he knew it they were naked in bed together. "Oh God, come in me." She raised her knees and pulled his cock to her with both hands. The yellow light from the bedside lamp showed him erect nipples atop snowy breasts. "I'm so hot I don't need any warming up. Oh! It's so big! I never felt anything like it. Oh! Oh yes! Give it to me. It's been so long." He shoved full length into her juicy canal. She exhaled sharply. She was tight around him, her wet warmth gripping rhythmically as her hips writhed in desire. When he drew slowly back until the head of his penis all but emerged from her lips, and then changed direction to plunge back in, she gave a rapturous squeal and held him, nails biting into his back. He was beside himself with lust for this beautiful woman who was giving herself to him so unexpectedly, so forthrightly, so passionately. He lost himself in her, every sense alive to her, hearing only her gasps as she orgasmed, feeling only the softness of her body under his, tasting only the nectar of her lips. Her skin's perfume filled his nostrils. He was deliciously approaching ejaculation when the mattress sank next to them and he became aware that Vicki, as naked as they were, had climbed into bed. His eyes flew open. His stroke faltered. Sandra squeezed him to her. "Don't stop," she panted. "I'm coming again." Vicki pressed against them, warm and soft and supple. Her red hair caressed them both as she lightly kissed his cheek. Her hand slid warm down to his buttock and rested there, a finger probing gently between his cheeks. His upper arm, elbow braced on the bed to relieve Sandra of his weight, felt a warm trickle as her breast pushed against it. He was in bed with two gorgeous women! It had never happened to him before. He'd heard stories but had never hoped to experience it. Only ... one of the women was a man! Or at least had been. The smooth juncture of Vicki's thighs as she lifted one leg to weigh it on his lower body told him nothing remained of maleness. It blew his mind. Sandra squirmed in ecstasy under him, apparently wholly undisturbed by the presence of her "sister," pelvis meeting his renewed thrusts with exquisite vigor, until she shuddered and cried out in yet another climax. It was too much for poor Bill. Try as he would to prevent it, to make it last a while longer, he ejaculated violently. He lunged into her, ramming as deeply as he could, hearing her surprised yelp as his cock forced the end of her vagina, and let go with steaming jets of sperm. Simultaneously the tip of Vicki's finger penetrated his anus; it was his turn to exclaim in surprise. The poignant touch drove him into an orgiastic frenzy. He went rigid, depleting himself with rhythmic bursts of semen into Sandra's womb, until his organ stopped jumping and he slumped drained on her. "I don't think I ever came so hard," he murmured finally, and rolled over between them. Feebly, "Me either." She shuddered and inhaled deeply. Vicki murmured to Sandra, "Are you exhausted?" "Totally." "No fair!" Sandra giggled. "We-ell ..." She touched her sister down there. "I better make sure he goes to sleep. He might see us and get aroused." Vicki lifted herself over him on hands and knees, tit dangling directly over his mouth. "Drink a little warm milk, it'll relax you." She pushed her nipple into his lips. Chuckling weakly, he pulled tentatively at the tender protuberance. Tepid liquid filled his mouth. It was thin, sweet, not like regular milk. The knowledge that it was mother's milk inflamed him. Still moist with Sandra's juices, his flaccidity warmed and began to swell again. Vicki quivered, "Mmm. God that feels good. Enough, leave some for the baby." She straightened and crawled over Sandra head to toe, and straddled her upturned face. Sandra languidly put her arms around her ass and drew her down. Liquid noises began. He goggled. Vicki moaned and dropped her head between Sandra's legs and worked on her. He heard her sigh, "Oh God, I can taste him. There's so much of it." Her head nodded slippery back and forth. She was drinking his semen! She had been a man only a couple of years ago, yet here she was, tongue lapping a man's sperm. He shivered. What would it be like? For that matter, what did it taste like? His prick sprang erect. He twisted around and mounted her from behind. She shrieked. He looked down and saw Sandra's wide eyes staring up at him between her sister's legs as he penetrated her moist canal. On the commuter jet to the capitol, he was still savoring the excitement of that bizarre coupling--*tripling,* he smiled. He nodded to the woman seated next to him. It had gone on for hours, it seemed, and then they slept in each other's arms. When he woke, happy all over, he was alone in bed. He wondered if it had all been a wet dream. There were murmurs downstairs and the clink of dishes. He showered, dressed, and descended the stairs. He overheard the children in the kitchen. "I to'd'ja so! I to'd'ja he was Mommy's boyfriend. I'm glad, he's so nice." "Maybe he's not her boyfriend, maybe he's a one-night stand." "What's that?" The voice dropped to an indistinct murmur and was followed by hysterical giggles. The first little girl said, "Oh, I wish I was born like you. Boys get to know all those awful things." Before he could clear his throat to let them know he was coming, Sandra appeared at his side in her nightgown. "Oh dear," she said. "Awake and dressed already? I thought we'd have a little extra time together before breakfast." He explained about going to the capitol to work on defeating the bill and she kissed him so tenderly and erotically that he almost came in his pants. The memory made him squirm in his seat. He had to lower the tray table in front of him to conceal his excitement from his seatmate, a pleasant middle-aged matron. During the remainder of the trip she kept glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. When the plane landed she put her hand on his as he prepared to leave. "Thank you for a flattering compliment," she said. "If you had asked, we could have put a blanket over our laps." She passed him a slip of paper. "Call me." He spent the next couple of days on the phone and the senate floor, and managed to garner enough support to kill the legislation he had introduced. Far from alienating his supporters and the media, the press conference he held, full of tough, direct talk, made him a hero. On Friday morning he received a phone call from Lydia Ladd, congratulating him and letting him know their help was already under way. Carmen Acious sat on the couch looking at the unconscious body of her son and sobbing her heart out. It was too much, she couldn't take it any more. She wished he'd never been born. For sixteen years she did her best for her son, worked her fingers to the bone, a part-time waitress in the evenings, full-time charwoman at night, and he never gave her anything but grief and abuse. She came from a male-dominated subculture, so saw nothing unusual in her own son treating her like a menial, but it was hard, and today had been the last straw. She had once been pretty, but pregnancy at 13 and years of hardship and poverty had drawn her trim body into slatternly lines. She was healthy, if tired all the time, and had a sexual drive that sometimes made even coarse and brutal men attractive to her, but only the worst of them expressed any interest in her and she never did anything about it. How could she? Sal demanded all her time. She had no privacy. Even when he was out doing *Dios* knows what, she never knew when he might come home. She deserved a life of her own, didn't she? That Anglo woman, Getzoff, the *abogado,* had said as much when she tried to talk her into betraying her own son for money. She refused indignantly, but had secretly been tempted. Then this afternoon Sal and two of his buddies walked in while she was trying to get some weary sleep in the living-room hide-a-bed--Sal's was the only bedroom--and started drinking beer and smoking pot, guffawing and cracking wise as if she weren't even there. When she protested that they should be in school, Sal snarled, "Shut the fuck up, you cunt, and make us something to eat." "I can' get op, I'm in my nightgown." A look of fury deepened the vicious sneer on his face. "You gonna give me trouble, *puta?* I tol' you to get us food." She flinched when he raised his open hand. Her face burned as she climbed out of bed in defeat, trying to hold her torn nightgown closed. One of the seams had split all the way up to the armpit; her naked leg and sides showed plainly. She never had time to sew it together, besides, she didn't own a sewing machine like some of the women who had husbands. "Hey-y," said Ramon Guttierez, the one they called Rambo. "Give us a show, huh?" "Yeah, what's you name, Carmen, right? How about givin' us a good time, Carmencita?" Juanito Morales, who only a few years ago had been a sweet dark-eyed toddler, fluttered his tongue at her and laughed raucously. Sal looked at her, then at them. "You wan'? Go ahead, you can see she's hot for it, running around almos' naked." "You serious, man?" "Sure, she good for nothin' else." "It's you mama!" "So what, she got a hole, don't she?" Unbelieving, Carmen waited too long to flee. Sal grabbed her from behind and held her when she began to kick and scream. He dragged her back to the bed and flung her down. She tried to jump up, nightgown open and in disarray, but he pushed her back. She lay cringing at the expressions on the boys' faces, and realized they were staring at her exposed pussy. Before she could cover herself Sal seized her by the wrists and held her arms above her head. Fear paralyzed her when Rambo said, "You the boss, man. She's you mama, you can give her away if you wan'." He unbuckled his belt and let his erect prick spring loose. When at long last the boys left she lay quivering and biting her lip to keep from screaming. She heard Juanito before the door closed, "Man, you somethin' else, you make you own mama suck you cock! I gonna go home tonight an' give mine a surprise." She dragged herself to the bathroom trying not to think about the slippery fluid drooling from between her legs, washed herself on the toilet and rinsed her mouth in the sink. She put on a dress and went out in the hall to the pay phone. "*Senora?* Joo got a deal. I call you when ees okay." At nine o'clock that evening two men in uniforms marked "Mall Security" picked up an unconscious Sal Acious. The drug la Getzoff had left with Carmen had worked within 30 seconds. By nine-thirty they were unloading a gurney and delivering it to a cheerless room with a heavy metal door and no windows at Alternative Care Medical Clinic. "We'll keep him here a month or so," Sandra Makes-Shemanski said to Bill Breaker. "That should be plenty of time for his breasts to develop to at least a B-cup with the doses I've prescribed together with the modified Belle Enhancers and Vanquishers, even in the absence of T-Block. But I don't get it. Except for the breasts and a feminine broadening of his rear, he'll remain a fully-functioning male. He'll be in a rage. You'll end up with a dangerous animal." "You'll see. This plan has a few stages. Anyway, don't worry about the danger. The hypnotic subliminal tapes together with Belle Intellect Matrix will make him terrified of violence of any kind. He won't be able to act on his anger. Now," he smiled, "if you're through here, why don't we have a drink at *Adam to Eve* so I can say 'Your place or mine?' " Sandra laughed. "Are you in any condition? I mean, after Justine?" Breaker felt his face redden. "You, ah, know about that?" "She gets highly excited by her control over the boys and has to let it out somehow. I recognized the signs. Don't worry, we've all been through it one way or another." "You?!" She blushed and nodded shyly. He'd been raped this noon. There was no other word for it. The act was consensual, to be sure, but had been carried out so vigorously, so *implacably,* that he felt totally out of control of the situation. He kept his nine a.m. appointment with Justine Kane, had been stunned by the sight of her feminized charges behaving themselves like sissies, far cries from the unruly malevolent creatures in the monitor a week before, and sat with her to discuss ways to accomplish what he had in mind. Her razor-keen mind grasped his intent almost immediately. She began to fizz and throw off ideas like a Fourth-of-July sparkler gone wild, and in an access of enthusiasm towed him off to her private lounge. She stripped off her uniform, revealing a glorious figure of Junoesque proportions, and promptly denuded him, too. He had the feeling she would roll over him like a Sherman tank if he hesitated an instant to let her take off his clothes. Thank God he wasn't wearing one of those electric collars, he thought. They got on her day-bed. She giggled like a schoolgirl and pushed him down, and expertly brought his surprised half hard-on to full manliness with her mouth. Climbing over him, she inserted it in a vagina that was flowing with moisture, and bent forward and shoved her tongue deep between his lips while she raised and lowered her pelvis. She was very tight, much tighter than he would have imagined for a woman of her age and size--or maybe it was just the strength of her vaginal muscles which were clenching and massaging his organ vigorously. He was overwhelmed, shy to be on his back under her, penetrated by a plunging tongue, helpless beneath her weight and strength. He had a moment to wonder if Vicki felt that way when she was with a man, before he gave himself up to the increasing rhythm of Justine's movements. She began to utter hoarse cries and shudder. It sent him over the edge. He ejaculated every bit as violently as he did with Sandra and Vicki, but it nevertheless took a long time for his penis to even begin to soften, a time that Justine used to advantage, bringing herself off twice more. Sandra touched his arm. "That good, huh?" "What?" "You were smiling." "Come on, let's go find Vicki!" The next morning they were wakened by four cheerful young girls clad in baby-doll nighties, who tripped lightly into the curtained room. Lynda and Paula and Lisa bore breakfast trays which they placed on the table before rushing over to kiss their mother and Aunt Vicki and a blinking "Uncle Bill", whose head was still cradled on Vicki's bosom. Phyllis pulled the drapes to let in the early sun. "We made you breakfast in bed!" Paula said. "Can we keep you company while you eat?" Sandra sat up, holding the bedclothes over her chest. "You scamps, you know you're not supposed to barge in here like that. You just wanted to see if Uncle Bill was here. Whose idea was it to make breakfast for an excuse?" Breaker felt Vicki's naked breasts shake as she stifled a laugh. She hugged him and let him go so she could nudge her sister. "Check it out." Phyllis was standing back turned, looking out the window with the greatest nonchalance. Her cute frilled nightie barely covered her round pantied bottom. Every line of her slender form proclaimed a complete innocence of anything that might be going on. "Phyl-lis." Breaker sat up to watch her turn to face them. Her young body was silhouetted against the bright window, the all-but-transparent nightie revealing the outline of pert nubbins tipped by saucy nipples. Her face pinkened under her mother's gaze, but an unrepentant mischief sparkled in her blue eyes. Mother and daughter stared at each other for a long moment, until an irrepressible twitch of the corner of Sandra's mouth signaled the absence of serious disapproval. Phyllis giggled and hurled herself into her mother's arms. "Grandma Grace said it would be all right." Sandra said, "You're a wicked child, and she's even wickeder." Lynda said wide-eyed to Breaker, "You have hair on your chest." Paula said, "Can we snuggle in bed with you?" and without waiting for their mother's consent the twins jumped on the bed and clambered under the covers on either side of him. "Me too!" Lisa scrambled alongside Vicki, pushing to make room for herself. There was no doubt about it, Breaker thought, he was a dirty old man. The innocent bare-legged squirming of the twins against him was causing warmth in his genitals. Paula put her little hand on his stomach under the covers, jerked it away in startlement, then touched his thigh. The hand flinched back and rested for a heart-stopping moment on his swelling penis. "Oh!" she said, "You don't have any pajama bottoms!" Lynda twined her leg around his. Her expression was a mixture of shyness and curiosity. Her face went red when the curiosity got the upper hand and she handled him briefly. "None of them do!" In delight Lisa lifted the bedclothes like a tent to reveal the adults' nakedness. She and Phyllis, who was sitting on the bed next to her mother, stared at Breaker's genitals. Sandra uttered an exasperated "Stop that! Shame on you all!" and yanked on the blankets to pull them out of Lisa's hand. "Don't be mad at us, Mommy. We were just playing." "Young ladies aren't supposed to see men without clothes. It's disgraceful." "But Uncle Bill is like family. He's your best boyfriend," Lynda said. "And Aunt Vicki's," she added. "Never mind. Get out of here. Everybody!" The twins clutched him as if fearing they would instantly be torn from his side. Vicki said, "Take it easy, darling. It's no big deal. Every young girl sees her father in the bathroom or bedroom once in a while. It's all a part of growing up. If Bill doesn't mind, we shouldn't either." "They never saw Kendra or Randi." "We didn't like them as much as Uncle Bill. Besides, after a while there wasn't anything to see." Sandra turned on her side away from them. In a moment Breaker could see her shoulders shaking. Was she crying? She faced them again, laughing. "Oh God, what a crew! I give up. Bill?" He grinned bashfully. "I agree with Vicki. It's all right with me," and was rewarded by squeals and hugs and kisses and soft young bodies pressed against him. Sandra tousled his head with affectionate glee. I'll get you for this." Vicki said, "What *are* you doing?" Breaker looked up to see Phyllis strip her nightie over her head and pull down her frilled panties. Her young tits were upstanding, areolas swollen and nipples erect. A sparse inverted triangle of pubic hair barely concealed her labia. "I want to be naked too. Like the grownups," she said solemnly, and gave Breaker a flirtatious glance from under lowered eyelashes. She hesitated as if wishing to oust Paula from her place next to him, but settled for climbing in next to her mother. She made sure to accidentally let her legs open once or twice before wriggling under the bedclothes. "That does it! You little tease. I don't know where you get it from." Sandra hugged her and gave her a big kiss