Unusual Punishment, Part 4 free porn video

Unusual Punishment Part Four: His Name Is Tyrone Jameson By Norman O. Johnson My bed in Solitary was a bare mattress on the floor, with a blanket and no sheet. I slept quietly for a while. At some point, I woke up, but I may have forgotten some of the things that happened to me right after I woke up. There are frustrating gaps in my memory, but I know these terrible events really happened. I remember lying spread-eagled on my back, naked, with my wrists and ankles shackled to the bedposts. I was not in the cell any more. This was a real bed with a frame and sheets. Where was this room? I was screaming in terror. Ms. Martindale and Chief Hunsucker stood over me, both stark naked. "Scream all you like," Ms. Martindale said. "This room is soundproof." The Chief was grinning like a hungry ghoul. Ms. Martindale was wearing a strap-on dildo. I stopped screaming. "Oh, no. Dear God, no. Ms. Martindale, please don't," I begged. "Please don't." "Oh, but I will, Miss Lauterbach. I'll have my way with you, and so will Rachel here." The Principal's voice was a low seductive purr, and pleasant to listen to in any place but this one. "It's true what they say about us. We are lovers, as lovers we share everything, don't we, Rachel?" "We certainly do, Helen," replied the Chief. Her pelvis was broad, but her large frame was well-muscled. Her strength alarmed me. "I've had a passion for you ever since you came here, Karen," said the Chief. "Remember? You were reluctant to use your new female name. Well, it certainly suits you now. You've become such a lovely girl. I saw your potential at the start." She turned to the Principal. "She's truly a miracle of modern science, isn't she, Helen?" "She certainly is." The Principal placed a hand on my right breast, fondled and stroked the nipple delicately, and moved her hand gently down my torso, till it came to a stop in my pubic hair. She stroked the dark curls gently for a moment. "Thanks to the BioConcentrator, we can melt down and remold a human body into any shape we choose. We can turn a human being into anything. How wonderful it is to have such power." "You are trolls, ogres, ghouls, vampires!" I shouted. "I hate you both!" Ms. Martindale only snickered. She climbed on top of me. The tip of the dildo was inches from its target. "Dear God, no! No!" I pleaded. "I am your God in this room, Miss Lauterbach," purred Ms. Martindale. I felt the tip of the dildo poking at Little Karen's cleft. Supporting her upper body with her hands, she lowered her pelvis onto mine, as the dildo pierced me. I felt the dull ache of my hymen braking. Ms. Martindale thrust home. I gasped. She began to thrust in a rotary motion, like a man having sex with a woman. A memory blackout followed. I next remember myself sobbing, with tears pouring down my cheeks. This time the Chief was doing me. Ms. Martindale was sitting on the side of the bed, laughed and joked. "As professional women," the Principal said to me, "my associate and I enjoy appropriating what was once solely a male prerogative." "Oh, please," the Chief complained. "This is like fucking a corpse! Miss Lauterbach, don't you know how to counter-thrust?" "This isn't sex! You're raping me!" I shouted. "See, Helen. This is what's wrong with our society. Everybody's a victim! Everybody has an excuse not to do anything, not to accomplish anything, because somebody was mean to them." The Chief turned to me. "Well, guess what, pretty girl? Stepfather Number Two did this to me when I was eleven, and I turned out okay." Another blackout followed. When memory returned, I was lying in a familiar position: strapped to a gurney, between the focusing elements of a BioConcentrator. Where was I? Was there a BioConcentrator at the school? Or did they take me somewhere else? My two enemies leered over me. They were still bare, at least from the waist up. "You know what, Karen?" the Chief sneered. "We can use the concentrator to make your cherry grow back, so there will be no evidence you ever got fucked." "And," said Ms. Martindale, laughing, "because the BioConcentrator causes memory blackouts in the patient, you won't remember our little get-together tonight." They both laughed again, cackling like witches. Where was that room? "Activation in thirty seconds." Dear God, please, I prayed, let me live and remember this so I can expose these two brutes. Everything went black again. My next memory was of waking up the next morning on that bare mattress in solitary. Breakfast and lunch were served to me in my cell, and a guard watched me eat. After the day's classes were over, all five of us were released together. We put back on the clothes we'd been wearing when arrested. This meant Keyboard had to walk back to her room in the nude, while the other gangs on the first floor jeered and hooted about all the action the "Chinese crack ho" was getting. I was glad not to hear Daria's voice among them. When I got to the door of my room, Keyboard reached up and kissed me on the cheek. "Thanks for protecting me, Nylon," she whispered. "No problem." As she went on her way, I couldn't resist giving her finely-shaped backside a long fond look. I'd seen so many naked girls since arriving here, I seldom noticed them. But Keyboard and I liked each other a lot. She had an intense crush on me, but it was an odd sort of crush. She was in love with the boy I was scheduled to become, instead of the strange girl I now was. She knew about me and Daria, which made the whole thing even stranger. Instead of being jealous, Keyboard wrote the whole thing off as one of Ida-Watts' Lesbian experiments. I entered my room. Trey wasn't there, again. She was missing a lot of the time nowadays. I shut myself up in the bathroom and inspected Little Karen before the full-length mirror. My hymen was intact. Yesterday, I'd been one of the few virgins at Ida-Watts. Today I was still one as far as anatomy goes. But I did feel sore inside, as if somebody had fucked me. Somebody had! I would make Martindale and Hunsucker, those two ogres, pay what they had done to me. I climbed up to my bunk, buried my face in my pillow, and wept for a long time. Even as I wept, I imagined myself dismembering both of them with chain saws, throwing them into a huge vat of acid, feeding them to lions in the zoo, and strapping them to an H-bomb and letting in fall like in an old movie my Dad and I saw once. Oh, and by the way, also shooting them and chopping off their heads. ### "Anyway," I said, "that's my story, as much as I can remember of it." Angel's room was silent for a few long seconds. Angel made a face. Squeak, shaking her head, spoke first. "Dat was scary, Nylon." Angel was still frowning. "The Chief is a bitch. The weird thing is, other girls have told me they met her in their dreams." "Girlfriend," said Shug. She leaned over to me and spoke softly. "Your knees shakin'." She was right. I held my knees together. "I think this really happened to me," I said. "Still got your cherry?" asked Shug, raising an eyebrow. Squeak giggled, looked ashamed, and muttered an apology to me. "Actually, yeah, but the BioConcentrator grew it back. The memory blackouts it causes, they're why I don't remember more." My girls were looking at me skeptically. "Dat a long road to a small house, Nylon," said Squeak. "Face it, you had a nightmare. Dat all dat happened." Angel got out of her chair and stepped over to the lower bunk where I was sitting. "Nylon, Squeak's right. You just had a bad dream while you were in solitary. It's only a dream! That stuff doesn't mean anything. Just forget!" "It happened," I insisted. I stared at the floor for a minute. I knew they were thinking the chick who used to be a guy was starting to lose it. I got up. "I gotta go to my room," I muttered. I went there. Trey wasn't there. I lay with my face in my pillow and wept quietly for what seemed like a long time. Why didn't my sisters believe me? I ***knew*** it happened. Little Karen was still sore. This wasn't the kind of girl I wanted to be. ### "That's my story, Daria. Do you believe me?" "Of course I believe you," she said, taking a sip from her mug. We were sitting cross-legged on the rug in Daria's room, enjoying hot herbal tea as a cold November rain pelted the window. "It makes perfect sense. What convinces me is that soreness in your vagina. Without that, the whole thing could be dismissed as a bad dream. Obviously, when they made you grow your hymen back, they were counting on the memory blackout to wipe out everything. It didn't." She took another sip. "It's good you remembered so much of what they said," she continued. "It's very revealing. There's no attempt to rationalize. Their attitude is straight out of Orwell's '1984.' We have all the power, and we're gonna be cruel just because it's fun." She shook her head. "Absolutely frightening." She looked away, angrily. "I've been wondering for some time what's the best way to ruin those two bitches." She turned back to me. "I remember Chief Hunsucker doing me, not the Principal, and that only seemed to last a few seconds. Unlike you, I don't remember anything they said." She took another sip. "It was real enough, though. Usually the only senses I experience in a dream are sight and sound. In this one I had them all. I could even feel the weight of her body on mine, the smoothness of her skin, her erect nipples. She was getting off. She was having a great time, but me? Well, you know just how it felt to me." I could see the cold anger in Daria's eyes. I took a sip. "I like your idea. I say we should collect as many stories as we can from their victims and get them prosecuted for rape." "I can see the rage in your eyes, Karen," she said, looking at me closely. "I can see the rage in yours." "But who's going to believe us? Most of the accounts are going to have practically no details, just a few seconds of something otherwise forgotten. The only clear evidence is the soreness between our legs. Most of their victims aren't going to feel that because, to be blunt, a lot of girls at this so-called school were poked quite a bit down there before they got here. And what do you think Martindale's going to do to us when she finds out we're trying to make a case against her? We both know from bitter experience what she and Hunsucker are capable of. I'm afraid to speculate." "I understand your point, Daria, but I still want to do something." "There may be something we can do, but we'll have to wait till after we graduate from here." When she said, "graduate," she drew quotation marks in the air. "Till then, we're at her mercy." "I'm gonna write up everything I can remember," I said, "and send it home. My Mom is a lawyer." I took another sip. "She'll think of something." "The Department of Corrections has a deeper pocket for legal fees than either of us," said Daria, shaking her head. "Face it, Karen, because you remember so little, a shrewd lawyer will say you made it up. He could cross-examine your story into itty bitty pieces on the witness stand." Tears of rage came to my eyes. "It happened, Daria! Damn it, it happened." "I believe you, but think about what a lawyer's going to ask you. For instance, where was that bed they chained you to? It wasn't in the cell, was it?" "No. That one was just a mattress on the floor. No bed frame." "So you don't know where this other bed was?" "No." "Hole number one. Where was the BioConcentrator? In what building was it? Or was it off campus? If so, where?" "I have no idea." "Hole number two." "Daria!" Tears were pouring down my cheeks. "You said you believed me." She put down her mug, came over to me and kissed me on the cheek. "I know what you're going through," she said. "I went over all this in my head, after it happened to me. I know about lawyers. I've watched a lot of trials on Court TV. They'd shred me, and they'd shred you." I was sobbing now. "But I do believe you, Karen," she whispered in my ear. "Don't ever doubt that." We came apart. Tears were coming down her cheeks too. "Look at me, ironic, emotionally detached Daria, who always has a witty 'bon mot' for everything. I think we both need a Kleenex." She got up to get some. ### Keyboard was sitting at my desk, with some hand-written papers in front of her. It was my account of what had happened to me. I was perched on my top bunk. Trey was missing, as usual. "That's a terrible thing, Nylon," she said, shaking her head sadly. "A terrible story." "I don't trust those bastards not to open my mail," I said. "I'm going to personally give it to Mom and Dad when they come to visit. I don't remember much, but I know it happened. You believe me, don't you, Alexis?" I sometimes used Keyboard's real name when we were alone. "I do believe you, Nylon. I figured out real fast after I got here everybody hates the Chief and the Principal." She frowned with her whole face. Her small dark eyes blazed. "A lot of girls here talk about some kind of sexual torture happening to girls in Solitary. Now I know what it's based on. You're not the only girl that remembers some of it. You remember a lot more than most of us." So they had done this to Keyboard too! I felt angry and protective toward her. Life was tough for Keyboard at Ida-Watts anyway, with so many of the black girls saying their people were poor because all these foreigners were coming in and taking their jobs. This taunt was often thrown at Keyboard. I defended her whenever I could. "What do you remember, Alexis?" I growled. Keyboard shook her head again. "They didn't do anything to me, for whatever that's worth. But I stick up for my friends." She smiled. "You're one of the few real friends I have here." "Thanks." Keyboard looked puzzled. "There's only one thing I don't understand," she said. "What's that?" "If they're using the BioConcentrator to wipe out people's memories, what do they change on the girls? They gave you your cherry back, but most of the girls didn't have one when they got here." She snickered, and flushed slightly. "I did, you did, and Noodle does, but there are very few virgins here besides us." "They probably take a couple of pounds out of girl's butts. See, that's our saving grace. It's unpredictable how much short-term memory loss you're going to have." She looked discouraged. "Go ahead and tell your family about this, but if the Principal knows you remember anything, she'll make your life hell." "Yeah, that's what Daria said." "Daria's got a lot of brains," said Keyboard. "I'd like her better if she cared about something besides her own smartest-girl-in-school attitude." Keyboard made that eloquent frown of hers again. "That's why you're not worried about her taking me away from you, are you?" I joked. Keyboard laughed. "Nope. Not worried at all. To you it's a Lesbian experiment. To her, well, she's just using you for sex." Keyboard laughed again, perhaps a little more bitterly. "If there's one thing Ida-Watts has taught me, it's that women are not morally superior to men." "I just realized something," I said. "What?" "Daria and I aren't the only ones. You just said some other girls have had this happen to them." "Yeah, so what? We can't do anything about it now." "We suburban girls are different. Most of the girls here are from 'da hood,' and in 'da hood,' if somebody messes with your girl, you kill them." "You think somebody's gonna kill Ms. Martindale and Ms. Hunsucker?" "If this shit keeps happening, it's a real possibility." "I think you're right, but you gotta promise me one thing." Keyboard looked at me closely with her intense dark eyes. "Don't do anything rash. The girl that kills one of those two is gonna be tried as an adult and go to the chair, or whatever they're using these days." "Okay." I laughed nervously. "I promise not to kill anybody. I'll let somebody else do it." We both looked silently at each other for a long moment. Then she gave her fine, shiny, perfectly black hair a toss. "Want to go make some music?" she asked. "Sure. Lead the way." I climbed down from my upper bunk. "By the way," said Keyboard as we were leaving the room, "remember that 'Wachet auf' tune we used to play together?" "How can I forget?" "It's not a cantata. It's a chorale. And it's not in the Well-Tempered Clavier after all." "Okay. Frankly, I was just guessing to impress you. I thought I'd get away with it. How many kids do you meet, especially here, who know anything about Bach?" "I know of two," she joked, "who don't know as much as they think they do." We both laughed. ### Because of that fight, I wasn't allowed to go home over Thanksgiving or during what the Gentile majority calls "Christmas vacation." I was also forbidden to have visitors till December. So for Thanksgiving, Mom and Dad and I had a conference call. It began badly. They were both mad at me for fighting. I made it clear I didn't start it and was only protecting my friend Keyboard. I explained about anti-Asian prejudice at the school, but I didn't say the word "gang." Mom insisted there had to be a "nicer way to resolve these problems." She and Dad both agreed it was unfair of Chief Hunsucker to blame everybody who fought instead of those who started it. Then Dad pointedly said, "Son, are there gangs at the school?" "Yes, Dad, there are." "Do you belong to one?" Dad and Mom both said this unison from their separate phone lines. "No," I lied, "but I have a group of girlfriends I hang out with." I quickly added, "you gotta realize, I'm getting good grades and my conduct has been good except for this one fight. It hasn't been easy. This is a rough place, and I hate it, and not just because I have to be a girl, either." Yes, I lied to my parents. I'm not proud of that, but I resolved to tell them the whole truth once I got out of this place. All three of us were sorry I couldn't be home for Chanukah. Since my visitation privilege was back in effect for December, we made plans for them to come see me at the school instead. When they came, I was planning to give them my hand-written account and ask them to read it later. I didn't trust Principal Martindale as far as I could throw her. I knew she had video cameras in the common rooms, and I expected hidden microphones as well. I also expected her to bug students' phone conversations. We didn't have phones in our rooms, by the way. There were three or four telephone booths on each floor in the common room, where the wings came together. That made phone surveillance easier. Chanukah at Ida-Watts was a rather dull affair. We spun the dreidel for little coin-shaped chocolates. The dreidel was a piece of software on Rabbi Hirsch's hand-held computer. Daria won the biggest heap, then gave them away. "I don't want any more zits," she explained. We danced to recorded klezmer music, some of it Chanukah themed, some not. Daria was my partner, with me leading. She was no more than a tolerable dancer, and so was I. We were both thoroughly bored, and made an early night of it. I might have enjoyed it more if one of the girls hadn't kept referring to me and Daria as "Mr. and Mrs. Freakowitz." One Saturday evening, I think it was the sixth night of Chanukah that year, I got a holiday visit from my family in the common room on the second floor. Mom and Dad were both sitting on one of the sofas when I came into the room. Mike and Miriam Horowitz had changed little since the start of my odyssey. They'd brought Steve, the middle brother, with them. He looked different. He'd grown out his hair a bit, and taken all the metal out of his face. He was pacing impatiently around the room. Their presents to me, wrapped in traditional blue Chanukah wrapping paper, were sitting beside Mom on the sofa. They all ran to me. Mom hugged me tight, kissing me on the cheek. Dad began to hug me, then backed away in distress. "He has breasts," he muttered. "Yeah, I know, Dad," I said, "but it's only till August." Steve came up and hugged me from the side, avoiding the contact with my noticeable bustline. He had spent most of the last three years waiting on tables and trying to write the Great American Novel. Now he was finally earning some real money authoring web pages, and still struggling with creative writing. All four of us sat on the sofa together. "George and Shelly can't be here," Mom explained. "He's got that Croatian flu bug that's going around, and she's on call at the hospital." My oldest brother George taught mathematics at North Carolina State University, and his wife Shelly was a staff psychologist at a hospital. "How are you feeling these days, son?" Dad ventured cautiously. "I'm in good health," I said, crossing my legs at the knee, "unless you count the gender thing." I laughed nervously. I was wearing my butch-looking jacket and trousers with the turtleneck sweater, but underneath the turtleneck I had to wear a bra. I had come to enjoy having breasts, but I wouldn't tell my family that for a long time to come. "You know, Kevin," said Dad uncomfortably, "you can cross your legs at the ankle if you like. We won't be offended." "This is just a role I'm playing for the next few months," I said. "I won't be offended if you call me Karen. It won't hurt my feelings if you refer to me as 'she' and 'her.' I've been hearing it for months now." Dad squirmed. "You are my son," he said with quiet anger. "I named you Kevin Lewis Lauterbach and that's what I'm going to call you. Nothing else." "Calm down, Mike," Mom said, patting him on the shoulder, "I'm sure Kevin meant no harm. All this will be over in a year." "In the meantime," said Steve, with a cautious glance at Dad, "I think she looks pretty. I mean, he." "Kevin always did have his father's good looks," said Mom. Nobody said anything for a minute. The awkwardness was palpable. Dad broke the silence. "Kevin, honestly, sometimes I think you're enjoying this way too much. I'm afraid I'm losing my son." Steve spoke for the first time. "I know it seems weird for us, but Kevin's getting a look at what life is like from the other side. I'm sure when he's his old self again, he'll be a better man for it." "Dad, Steve's right. Your son Kevin is still in here. When I get out of this place, I'll still have all the good things the old Kevin used to have, but I'll be a nicer, more considerate, maybe even a wiser, son than I was before." He smiled for the first time. "Fine, happy Chanukah, son. Let's open the presents." Mom gave me practical stuff: packages of panties, maxi-pads, and three sports bras, because I'd told her about my weekly racquetball matches with Angel. Dad gave me a sweater that was a bit large for my current thorax. I suspected he was planning for the future. Mike and Shelly gave me a book: "Gender Outlaw" by Kate Bornstein. Steve, who was finally earning some real money designing web pages, also gave me a book: "Orlando" by Virginia Wolff. After a bit of catching-up chat about other members of the family, most of whom were too embarrassed to even ask about me, we exchanged good-byes. Dad shook my hand and patted my shoulder, saying, "I'm looking forward to getting my son back, as a better man." Mom hugged me and whispered, "We all love you, honey. Just be brave and everything will be back to normal soon." Steve hugged me too, like a brother to his sister. He whispered, "You take care of yourself." His voice dropped so low I could barely hear it. "---Sister." I immediately guessed why he gave me a book about a fictitious Englishman who changes sex, then takes 400 years to complete a single poem. I pressed some hand-written pages into his hands. "Read this later," I explained. "I wrote about my thoughts and feelings and stuff." Actually, it was an account of my nightmarish but real night of torment at the hands of Martindale and Hunsucker. It also included a coded phrase to be used in future phone talks. Any attempt to expose Martindale and Hunsucker would be referred to as "cousin Larry's lawsuit against the Power company." At the end of my letter, I asked them never to mention it in future letters to me, just in case those were opened. As a lawyer, Mom was well qualified to judge the evidence. A few days later, I got another call from home. In between other comments, Mom said, "cousin Larry decided to drop his suit against the power company because of gaps in the testimony of the only eyewitness." I sighed back to her through the phone receiver. I knew it. The gaps in my memory and my intact cherry made my testimony less than credible. However, Mom said, "it would be different if other people had a similar grievance against the power company." Daria, an amateur at law, had guessed right. Then Mom said, "you know how much your father and I trust cousin Larry and we believe the power company is in the wrong here." ### Some of the girls were lucky enough to be "furloughed"---Ms. Martindale was fond of military terms---so they could spend Christmas with relatives. Angel was one of them. Trey was another . Before leaving, she solved the mystery of her absences. She'd been given a job in the school kitchen helping prepare the food. That made me feel better. I spent those boring winter days in the half-empty dormitory reading my books. I didn't get "Orlando." It was just too literary for my taste. If I read it now, I might be mature enough to understand what Virginia Wolff was trying to do. I didn't even know she was a Lesbian until after I left Ida-Watts. "Gender Outlaw," which was not fiction, was better. Kate Bornstein was born male and changed sex the old-fashioned way, with surgery and hormones. She had a lot of things to say that were very relevant to my situation. I underlined many passages, and thought about them frequently in the weeks and months that followed. I got two A's and three B's for fall quarter, which was good enough to make the Honor Rolls at Ida-Watts, where most of the girls did as little school work as possible. Rabbi Hirsch gave me one of those A's for Science, and Mrs. Marsden gave me the other for English, which made Steve especially proud. In January, a new academic quarter began. The Rabbi shifted gears from Physics to Chemistry, while Mrs. Marsden revealed her passion for Jane Austen. I read "Emma" during winter quarter. One Saturday afternoon, Trey ran into our room, very excited. "Get outside fast! There's a girl on the roof and she's threatening to jump." I threw down my pencil and jumped up from my desk so fast my American history textbook fell on the floor. I grabbed a sweater on the run. As Trey and I entered the hall, I pulled it over my face, almost colliding with several other girls. By the time I got to the stairs, half of Mary's girls were with me. By the time I got to the first floor, the First Floor Fillies were crowding the exits ahead of us. They were so eager to get outside, they had no time to shout their usual insults. When I finally worked my way through the crush of people and got outside, I saw a huge throng of girls, maybe half of the school, standing on the dead grass and looking up at the roof. More girls were joining them. Fillies, Double-D's and Mary's Girls instinctively grouped themselves in separate bunches. Sure enough, there was a girl perched on the roof of the North Wing. The sky was cloudless, but a cold January wind was swishing through the leafless trees. I recognized the girl on the roof by her clothes. Jacket, slacks, turtleneck sweater. I had one just like it. "It's Noodle!" I shouted. Mary's Girls huddled around me. We began shouting together. "Don't jump, Noodle!" "Don't jump!" "Don't jump!" There was a large huddle of Double-D girls nearby, all chanting, "Jump! Jump! Jump!" The Fillies took it up. "Jump! Jump! Jump!" Were they doing this just because Noodle was in a different gang, or did this indicate some sort of alliance of the Fillies and Double-D against us? I didn't think about this until later. Chief Hunsucker and two of the guards were standing together, looking up. The Chief was shouting through a bullhorn. Her voice came out of it sounding tinny, mechanical, and hard to recognize. "Miss Jameson," she was calling, "please don't do anything rash. We appreciate that you're in a stressful situation. We're here to help you. Security personnel have been dispatched to the roof to escort you down. I will personally see to it that you get the help you need." Noodle was shouting something. Because of the wind, I couldn't hear all of it. But I did hear this much: "Done ruined me. You cain't hep me. Ain't nobody can hep me, Chief Hunsucker. You got me in dat little room, and you ruined me! I don't wanta live no mo!" "Did you hear what I just heard?" I turned and found Keyboard behind me. "Something about the Chief getting her in a little room and ruining her," I replied. Girls were grouping themselves into bunches, gang by gang. A large group of Double-D girls were standing together. They knew who Noodle was. "Jump, Noodle, jump! Jump, Noodle, jump!" "Noodle fittin' to jump!" Princess screamed. "Lord, she jumpin'!" Many, many girls screamed. Noodle tumbled head-first toward the earth. Her body hit the ground with an ugly sound, more of a plop than a crunch. I hope I never hear it again. She bounced about a foot, then crashed in a cloud of dust. Some of the girls screamed again. I just stood there with my mouth open, staring. My eyes were tearing up. Mary's Girls as a group surged toward the battered corpse. Chief Hunsucker wheeled around to the crowd. The two other guards had their billyclubs at the ready. "Everybody stay back!" Hunsucker ordered. "Something tragic has just happened, but the suicide's corpse must be examined by the Coroner, as required by North Carolina State law." Something was boiling inside me. I stepped past my sisters to confront her. "What did you do to her, Chief?" I demanded. She lowered her bullhorn. "Oh, yes, Karen Lauterbach. What was your question again?" "What did you do to her?" "Nylon, that's enough!" a voice behind me shouted. It was Angel. "I did nothing to her, Lauterbach. Move along now." A dozen hands grabbed my arms, wrapped themselves around my mouth, and pulled me back, forcing me down onto the dead grass. Angel's head hovered over my face. "Nylon," she whispered, "if the Chief really did to you what you said she did, you better not let her know you remember. So shut the fuck up." "That's the spirit," came Hunsucker's voice from the distance. "Discipline your own people, Miss DeCarlo, and I won't have to." I could hear cheering. "Well, dat's one!" somebody shouted. "Hey, Angelo! Too bad about Noodle, huh?" yelled a Double-D girl named Bernice. I climbed to my feet again, taking Angel's advice to say nothing. Keyboard and I hugged each other. She wept into my sweatshirt as the cold wind whipped our wet faces. "You can kiss my cunt, Bernice!" Angel shouted back. "I'd suck your dick if you still had one, Angelo," Bernice yelled back. She was the leader of Double-D. "By de way, how do dat feel, not havin' a dick no more?" Angel ignored this last one. Of course, she had never changed sex. The crowd was breaking up even faster than it had come together. I looked past Keyboard's shiny black head at the twisted corpse. That mangled heap had once been a friend of mine, the only other "girl" at the school who understood what I was going through. However, Tyrone, so-called Noodle, was not like me in another way. He had not been able to find an alternate female persona inside himself, not even one good enough for temporary use. "His name," I said quietly to no one in particular, "was Tyrone Jameson." I glared through my tears at Chief Hunsucker and knew what he meant when he said, "You got me in that little room, and you ruined me." I swore by his innocent blood that Hunsucker and Martindale would pay for driving Tyrone to his death. TO BE CONTINUED Copyright (c) 2001, by Norman O. Johnson ([email protected]) This file may be freely archived, copied, transmitted, and redistributed, provide that it remains in its original form with all warnings, copyright, author credit, and other information intact. It may NOT be distributed for profit or sold for profit, except by the author. Norman O. Johnson.