A Bikini Beach Summer, Parts 11-13 free porn video

A Bikini Beach Summer by Daphne Xu Part 11 The Following Days and the Firmlove Meeting Thanks to ElrodW, Bikini Beach's creator, for invaluable comments on this story. The Bikini Beach universe and its principal characters are copyright 2001 by him. Any comments about Bikini Beach, how it works, what it does, by characters other than Anya or Grandmother are potentially non- canonical and wrong. As this story is told from a particular point of view by the protagonist, this includes comments by the narrator. The protagonist, and thus the narrative, are what the protagonist believes or interprets from what he is experiencing. Thus some of the mechanics of BB are biased by the protagonist's view and experiences. Furthermore, because of the particular viewpoint of the story, those errors often won't be corrected. When the errors are corrected, the correction will often be disbelieved and rejected. Sunday, July 13 Both Thursday and Friday night, I'd had nightmares about monsters that were Error going after me. Was someone or something warning me? Or was someone or something actually after me? Or were they just nightmares, influenced by thoughts in the background of my mind? In any case, as I awoke Sunday morning, I kept feeling guilty about the sleepover events of Friday night. They were major-league Error. I even felt guilty about the dress-suit I got when we went shopping, even though I kept telling myself I had nothing to feel guilty about. I decided to wear it that very day to Sunday School and Church. I waited until after breakfast before putting it on -- partly because I didn't want to spill food on it, partly because I was nervous about putting it on and letting Ma and Pa see me in it. I didn't know why; the dress-suit was about as modest as one could get short of a nun's habit. Perhaps it's because I bought it without asking or telling Ma, or perhaps because I'd splurged on it almost the entire amount she'd given for shopping. The girls had persuaded me to buy it, and pantyhose and two-inch heels to go with it. I was particularly nervous about the heels, since Ma had never gotten heels for me before. (I'd never asked.) I wasn't sure how to fix my hair to match the suit; my usual ponytail didn't seem to fit. I just decided to let my hair fall and brush it out. Ruth was the first to see me in my new suit. "Oh my, Lucy! You look ... adult ... like a young and friendly Ma! It's wonderful!" Pa was the next to see me, when I went downstairs. "Say, who could this lovely young lady possibly be? Is that you, Erin, time-traveling from the past?" "Very funny, Pa," I replied. "What's going on?" asked Ma, as she entered from the kitchen. "Oh my, is that you, Lucy? Let me look at you!" Ma fiddled a little with my jacket. "You look great in that -- almost the businesswoman. Good workmanship, too. Adjustable -- it should last you at least a couple years." "Seeing my daughter like this truly drives home the point that you are growing up," said Pa. "Aww, Pa. I'll wear my other dresses sometimes. I'll remain childlike some of the time." One should remain childlike, according to Mrs. Eddy. And Jesus said that one should become as a child, too. "I take it you bought it Friday, when you went shopping with the girls?" asked Ma. "Yes. They persuaded me to get it. Vanessa, in particular. I'm afraid it took almost everything you gave me for shopping." "I quite approve. It's surprisingly responsible for a teenage shopping spree." The Lesson-Sermon's subject this week was "Sacrament." That meant a slight change in the format of the service. After the Readers read the Lesson, we were "invited" to kneel on the floor. I'd been feeling guilty and begging for forgiveness throughout the service, and here I continued to beg for forgiveness as part of my silent prayer -- even as I recalled vaguely in the back of my mind that this was not the right kind of prayer. We recited the Lord's Prayer. I think I felt a little better after the church service was over. "Lucy, over here." Ruth grabbed my hand and we went off a little ways from where Ma was gossiping with other church ladies. "You were unhappy this morning. Was it something at the sleepover?" "Well..." I blushed in embarrassment at the memories. I didn't want anyone to know about them. Not even Ruth -- putting aside the embarrassment, she was just too young. I finally said, "I think Error influenced me at the sleepover." Ruth giggled. "Did you sneak boys into the sleepover?" "Um, the only boys there were the ones changed to girls -- Becky and Vanessa." "Aww," she pouted. I wondered about that, but let it go. "I had nightmares too. Error as a monster trying to pull me away from Ma and Pa, Error and monsters in the mall after me, pushing me toward the Dangerous Store. Heck, I can't remember now if we actually encountered that Store Friday, or I dreamed it all." "A Dangerous Store?" said Ruth. "It was probably a nightmare. Anyway, error means mistake -- I looked it up. But we're almost taught that it's a monster whispering in our ear. Like when we're grumpy, Ma says that's Old Error." We talked some more, but then we had to stop because Ma's socialization had ended, and we had to return home for Sunday dinner. After dinner, I joined Ruth and Daisy and a couple other girls and guys her age playing outside. The afternoon went by fast, and so did the evening of a game of Life. Pa joined us for the game. Monday, July 14th The next morning, we had to record a new week of the Lesson-Sermon. The subject was Life, one of the seven synonyms of God according to "Science and Health." So after breakfast and the Mental Work, Ma recorded the "Science and Health" readings, while I recorded the Bible readings. Afterwards, I spent part of the time helping with chores, and part of the time reading. I also practiced some piano and clarinet. I tried not to think of Error haunting me and taunting me during the sleepover. I did wind up thinking of Ma's rant about what Mrs. Winstead said, last Tuesday. Did I really hear that? Or did I dream it? Or did Ma make it up or hallucinate it? Becky and Vanessa had been transformed by Bikini Beach. Had Ruth as well? Had my mind been completely wiped of memories of -- what was the original name? Peter? Ma wouldn't know -- any more. She'd forgotten as well, if it happened. But Mrs. Winstead might know. I had piano lessons as well as ballet. After piano finished, I suddenly wondered if Carol would appear like before. Sure enough, there she was at the corner of a street a couple blocks from the mall. Shouting out, "Hey, Carol!" I ran to meet her, despite being loaded down, and she ran to meet me. After jumping and hugging, we backed off to look at each other. "It's been a while, since Saturday," she said. Then both of us blushed at the same time. My face was burning. "About Friday night," we both began, then stopped. "You first," we both said, then burst out in laughter. "Let's get moving," I said, taking her hand. "I have ballet to attend." After a short pause, I asked, unsure of my words, "Did we go too far Friday?" "Well..." she said. "I felt really guilty yesterday at Church. It felt like -- I feel silly and embarrassed talking about church to people outside it. The words we use mean different things. I'll just say it -- it felt like major-league Error, an Error unprecedented for me. That term Error, well it means mistake or something wrong, but also something more. Ma would say to us as a child, `That's Old Error influencing you.' Something in our book mentions Error being "exterminated." I got to thinking of Error sometimes as a tempter, sometimes as a terrible monster. "In my nightmares Thursday and Friday night, Error was the monster pulling me away from Ma and Pa (who were, of course, oblivious) or the thing chasing me toward the Dangerous Store but also inside the store waiting for me. I think the Store in my nightmare was based on `Spell R Us' that we saw Friday." "Oh my," said Carol. "I'll admit I felt a little guilty and definitely considerably embarrassed at what we did Friday night. But nothing like what you felt, I'm sure. It was fun and exciting as well. No doubt I'd be punished if Mom or Dad found out, but nobody's going to tell them, right?" "Right. I'm certainly not going to tell my parents. Ma spoke about the fun she had at `pajama parties' when she was young. I don't think meant the kind of activities we had Friday. Although, come to think about it, she never told us what they did." "How about this?" said Carol. "What happened Friday night remains Friday night." "Exactly." We continued walking. I was lost in my thoughts. Error in one of the nightmares taunted me that I would be too scared to give the testimony I'd vowed to give on Wednesday -- about wearing bikinis and one-pieces to Bikini Beach. I was having doubts about it -- and fears and embarrassment -- and I realized that those doubts, and fears, and embarrassment were Error. We arrived at the ballet studio just as Ma and Ruth arrived. I changed into my ballet leotard and tights, and the class went by as usual, except this time, Carol watched us. Afterwards, she said, "Did I ever tell you? You definitely look sexy, both of you. Ruth, you almost look like a younger version of Lucy. It's a wonderful privilege walking home with both of you." Carol took both our hands. "Let's go." We started off. "There's the way you treat me as a friend, almost like Lucy," said Ruth. "Well, you and Lucy are clearly friends as well as sisters. And there's something mature about you -- and also about your friend Daisy, I don't know. And then it's fun to have some childish fun once in a while. Actually, I view Lucy rather different." She took her hand out of mine, and wrapped her arm around my shoulders, pulling me to her. After a moment of surprise and being off-balance, I managed to get my arm around her waist, and leaned against her. I couldn't help having a silly grin on my face. "Now that silly thing about being up a tree is running through my mind," said Ruth with a giggle. "Um, Ruth, in case you didn't notice, we can't have children," I said. We got home. While I changed out of my leotard, the idea occurred to me that my Bikini Beach pass was probably expiring. I got it out and checked: the expiration date was 5:00pm Tuesday, July 15th. So it was still good tomorrow. That was actually nice of them, making it a 15- day pass instead of a two-week pass. Daisy joined us, and the four of us spent the rest of the afternoon playing outside. Both Daisy and Carol stayed for dinner and we played some more afterwards. Then Carol had to go home. Pa drove her home, and I went along with them. On the way back home, Pa said, "You have a very good friend there, Lucy. She's involved not only with you, but also with Ruth and her friend Daisy -- pretty much the whole family." For a moment, icky thoughts tempted my mind, thoughts about Pa and Carol. No-no-no, I managed to put them out of my mind. That was just sick. Error. Tuesday, July 15th As I followed the morning routine, it was perpetually on my mind that today was the final day of my two-week Bikini Beach membership. I was regretting not making more use of the membership, such as going on other days. But then I realized that one can enjoy the rides only so much. It was being with the other girls that made Bikini Beach the special place it was. I wondered if there were other activities we could do together besides Bikini Beach. There was the sleepover, and shopping. Were there other places such as theme parks to attend? Places that wouldn't have the magic that sometimes scared me? I got into my swimsuit and got my equipment well before the Kings arrived to take us to Bikini Beach. So I practiced on the piano -- feeling a little strange doing so in a swimsuit, especially with flip- flops on the pedals. I tossed them off; my bare feet on the pedals felt a little more normal. The Lucky Charms on my toenails were faded. Ruth was in her swimsuit and ready by the time the Kings arrived. Vanessa and Helen were in the SUV as usual, and we made it to Bikini Beach in good time. I posed the question to Vanessa while still in the car. "I was wondering, especially since today is the last day we can use our passes, are there other places to go, other things all six of us can do to have fun? For example, find park or a field and play ball games, Frisbee, on the swings and climbing bars?" "Gee, I don't know. It might be fun to go to other theme parks, overnight trips to places like Sea World or Six Flags, or one of the Disney parks. We should talk to the guys about it." She laughed suddenly. "It would definitely be interesting being the lone boy among a group of girls in that situation. Except that probably the next time I visit Bikini Beach, I'll have Mom get me another extended time membership, so I'll still be Vanessa when it comes to that. Actually, come to think of it." She cast a sharp glance at me. "I'm not sure I would be the only boy." I didn't really want to know what she meant by that. Becky/Bruce had a summer membership, so she wouldn't be there as a boy. Did her pointed glance at me indicate that she thought I might be a boy? Or be one after the pass expired? Now that was ridiculous. As usual, we had a wonderful day at the water park. I took the gymnastics class, and found myself promoted to level 2 gymnast. Ruth had been promoted earlier; her younger body was more flexible and adaptable than mine was, despite my greater experience with ballet. We left Bikini Beach early, and Jen came along with us. Mrs. King dropped Ruth and me off at home just in time to change for dinner. Over dinner, Ma announced, "Dan? Lucy? Ruth? Our weekly Firmlove meeting will be here tonight. We require all your help in setting up the basement playroom for the meeting." So Pa, Ruth, and I were Shanghaied into bringing a bunch of chairs in from the storage room off to the side, along with a long table for snacks. Pa lugged downstairs a large cooler full of sodas, and Ruth and I had to lug bags of potato chips, cheesitz, corn chips, and so forth. Soon, the first participants arrived. We were supposed to remain out of the way, doing our own things as usual. I joined Ruth in her room. "Remember Ma's angry rant about Mrs. Winstead last week? Do you think they'll say anything about that today?" "Maybe," said Ruth. "Let's try to listen to the meeting," I said. "We may be able to learn something." We went downstairs to the living room. There were heat ducts which sent hot air in the winter and cold air in the summer, on the floor of the living room. In the playroom downstairs, they were in the ceiling. "We need to maintain absolute silence," whispered Ruth. I pressed my ear against one of the ducts, and was able to hear what they were saying. "... were able to persuade the judge not to release Joseph on bond," said an unknown voice. "We had to emphasize the danger a potential drug dealer posed to the community. However, we failed at persuading the judge not to appoint an attorney for Joseph. At least, a stint in jail may be just what is needed to persuade him and other potential drug dealers that rules and laws are to be obeyed." They spoke more at length about this Joseph. Then the voice of a woman who appeared to be the leader of the group said, "Next on the agenda: a proposal by Mrs. Cuttington to expel Mrs. Winstead from this Firmlove branch." Several voices exclaimed in surprise and outrage. I raised my eyebrows and glanced at Ruth, successfully remaining silent. "Order, order! We shall let Mrs. Cuttington make her motion and present her reasons." I heard Ma's voice! "I wish to expel Mrs. Winstead for her advocacy of crackpot claims, in particular slanderous and defamatory claims made about my daughter Ruth." More exclamations, followed by, "Order! Order! Erin?" "Mrs. Winstead practically accused my daughter Ruth, who's only nine years old, in the infamous rape/murder of Jill Denison. Supposedly at the time, Ruth was my son Peter, seventeen years old, and I took him to Bikini Beach to change him into Ruth. I mean, the very idea! Ruth has always been my daughter, and how could anyone think that Bikini Beach, an exclusive water park for girls and women, nothing more, transforms people?" Everyone spoke at once, and I couldn't understand any of them. "Order, order!" Eventually the noise quieted down, and the leader called out, "Deborah?" Another woman, who must have been Mrs. Winstead, said, "This is all utterly ridiculous. You should all ask yourselves, would I make such a claim that Bikini Beach actually changes boys to girls?" I heard Ma shout out, "Liar!" just like a little kid! The leader said, "Order, Erin! Continue Deborah." "Clearly, Erin knows perfectly well that Ruth has always been Ruth. In order to claim that Bikini Beach changed her son Peter to Ruth, I would also have to explain how she and her family always remembered Ruth as part of the family!" Ma promptly said, "Deborah is lying. She said Ruth was dropping hints around that she was formerly Peter, yet unable to say so directly. She implied that Bikini Beach had the power not only to change Peter to Ruth but also make us believe Ruth always existed *AND* make Ruth unable to tell her own story." More chatter and exclamations emerged. "Order! Order! Biff?" A male voice said, "For what it's worth, the police arrested a young negro male for Jill Denison's murder. There was never any talk of the murderer being a white boy." Another female voice said, "As teacher at Central High, I hear all sorts of crazy rumors and stories. Among them are claims about Bikini Beach: it changes boys to girls, people to animals, plants, vampires, and even inanimate objects. It even bans girls' swimsuits that cover too much! Its owners are witches, vampires, aliens from space. I've always attributed those rumors to jealous boys who can't get admitted to Bikini Beach because of its girls-only policy." Another male voice: "I don't know who's in the wrong, but here's one thing I do know. Even bringing up such claims, even if unambiguously denied, furthers the beliefs. It's basic human psychology. If you say, `Purple cows don't exist,' one is more likely to entertain the notion of a purple cow than if you remained silent about them." The leader spoke again: "Mrs. Cuttington made the motion. Unless there's a second, I shall table the motion and go to the next item." A male voice spoke: "I move this alternative: Mrs. Cuttington's motion, and all discussion thereof be stricken from the record, and we continue on as if the motion and discussion had never occurred" A series of voices shouted, "Second!" The leader: "Discussion?" A moment later, "All in favor?" A series of voices shouted, "Yes." "Against?" Silence. "The motion passes. Next on the agenda, Lisa Albertson's oldest daughter's involvement with necrotism and neopaganism." Necrotism? Neopaganism? I had no idea what they were, but it certainly sounded scary. Pagan. Probably contrary to Christian Science. I continued to listen, and learned a number of things. Neopagans were atheists who worshiped Satan -- or was it a Goddess? Or Satan as a Goddess? -- and became witches through power bestowed on them by Satan. A quarter of the teachers in the public schools were secretly pagan, and lured students into their clutch. Modern physics and quantum theory were simply paganism in disguise, and the public money used in building huge accelerators -- that's what it sounded like -- was secret public money for pagans. They had a break, I heard footsteps coming up the stairs from the basement, so I dashed into the kitchen. Ruth went somewhere else. I pretended to look through the pantry, and then hid behind the pantry door when they entered the kitchen, and listened to what sounded like might become an actual fight between Ma and the other woman. "You witch!" said the other woman, who must have been Mrs. Winstead. "How could you do this, after all I did to help you with Ruth and Peter! I informed and advised you about Bikini Beach, after the lawyer got Peter off the hook for Jill Denison's murder. I took in Ruth for the night after she injured your husband--" "I don't know what the Hell you're talking about," replied a very angry Ma. Yes, she actually cursed! "Oh? Then why DID you call me, say it was an emergency, and drive Ruth to my house to spend the night?" "Okay, I concede, I can't remember why," said Ma. "I do remember it seemed important at the time." "You even had to warn Ruth it was either me or the police. You don't remember telling me all about that? You don't remember telling me about Ruth kicking Daniel, after he spanked her?" "Huh?!? Dan never spanked either of my daughters. He told me he refused to spank girls. And certainly, Ruth never kicked Dan. There's no way she could kick him so hard as to injure him." Mrs. Winstead said, "You told me that Ruth had caused a major disruption at Bikini Beach on July 4th. To compound it, she refused to let you spank her. You took her home and had Dan spank her as punishment for both the disruption and not letting you spank her. Then you described Ruth's kicking your husband in specific detail. First, she kicked him at the top of the stairs, making him fall downstairs. Then she jumped -- almost flew, you said -- downstairs and landed on his side -- jamming her heel into him right as she landed. "You told me that when Ruth was Peter, he had a blue belt in Taekwondo. Some of that must have remained in Ruth. How could you possibly forget our long discussion, where we finally agreed that reforming Peter was hopeless? Ruth kept denying her guilt, kept resisting discipline, and kept engaging in behavior unbecoming a girl her age? Even deliberately dropping clues around trying to tell others, when you made it abundantly clear that her change from Peter was between you and her alone?" What? What kind of talk was that? Someone is a victim, and the criminal proclaims that it's only between the victim and himself? "Now that's just way out!" exclaimed Ma. "You must have been dreaming or something." "Excuse me? I wasn't dreaming. You called Bikini Beach yourself that night to arrange for Ruth's membership to be upgraded to lifetime, with a new reality-shift to wipe out everything that Ruth did the past weeks and replace it with normal behavior. It would also remove Ruth's own memories of having been Peter, as well as everyone else's and eliminate Peter once and for all. "Oh, my God! I just realized -- you got caught up in the reality- shift yourself. No wonder you don't remember any of this, Erin!" "That explains it," Ma said angrily. "You talk all sorts of nonsense to me, of course you will lie about it, deny it when challenged." "Erin, all this was supposed to be just between you and me. Now that you've gone public with it -- hush, someone's coming." Another woman entered. "The break's over. Let's get back to work." Ma and Mrs. Winstead followed the woman back downstairs, and I got out from behind that door with relief. Oh, my! If last week was merely a suggestion that Ruth was originally an older Peter, these were all blatant, unambiguous statements. I found Ruth -- didn't know where she hid. "Did you hear any of that?" I asked. "All of it," answered Ruth. "I wonder if Pa heard any of this." "Probably not enough to understand it. The television in his office is probably on too loud, and he's probably caught up in some old classic movie. But let's go upstairs." Once we got in my room, I continued, "This settles things. You were definitely Peter, changed to Ruth at the first visit. It seems as though you were falsely accused of murdering Alice's cousin Jill. Bikini Beach made you forget everything Saturday morning, and made me forget -- well, whatever and whenever they made me forget." I just realized I had no idea what I'd forgotten in Saturday's reality-shift. "This is so weird," said Ruth. "Me being a seventeen-year-old boy, me being in high school. High school? That's so scary! So what do we do about it?" "Let's sleep on it. Meanwhile, I might practice my clarinet. It's been a while." I returned to my own room, and practiced for about half an hour, not too loud. Then I went and peeked in Ruth's room. She appeared sound asleep, so I went back, changed into one of Pa's tee-shirts, and went to bed myself. ****************************** A Bikini Beach Summer by Daphne Xu Part 12 Thanks to ElrodW, Bikini Beach's creator, for invaluable comments on this story. The Bikini Beach universe and its principal characters are copyright 2001 by him. Any comments about Bikini Beach, how it works, what it does, by characters other than Anya or Grandmother are potentially non- canonical and wrong. As this story is told from a particular point of view by the protagonist, this includes comments by the narrator. The protagonist, and thus the narrative, are what the protagonist believes or interprets from what he is experiencing. Thus some of the mechanics of BB are biased by the protagonist's view and experiences. Furthermore, because of the particular viewpoint of the story, those errors often won't be corrected. When the errors are corrected, the correction will often be disbelieved and rejected. Wednesday, July 16th Ma and Pa had discovered that the girls and I had spent that Friday sleepover evening naked. I was horribly humiliated now, lying bare- bottom over Pa's lap in the bathroom. He'd already yanked down my swimming trunks that I was wearing from Bikini Beach. And now, gargantuan Pa was going to slam his gargantuan hairbrush down on my bottom -- bristle-side down, of course. Any second now, I would re-experience the pain of the hairbrush from my childhood. I remembered the hairbrush of my childhood slamming and me screaming in pain. And Pa was about to slam the hairbrush down on my bottom. I was doing Taekwondo. This couldn't be allowed to happen. Not without a fight. Pa was about to slam the hairbrush down on my bottom. I aimed a karate-chop at Pa's side. My right arm was plowing through molasses. Pa was about to slam the hairbrush down on my bottom. I tried to push myself off his lap. I rolled off very slowly... I was standing in front of Pa, naked, in a fighting stance. I lifted my front leg forward through molasses again, up for a front side-kick into Pa's lower stomach area, preparing to follow up if necessary with a round-house kick. I woke up in a sweat. It was just a dream. Another. Nasty. Nightmare. In the dream, why had I remembered getting naked with all the girls? Becky, in her usual sassiness, had suggested getting naked, but the others had objected. I was there, the lone male, and two of them, including Becky, were GIRLs. My phobia of being seen naked had flared up. Becky had removed her bikini and gotten naked anyway. To my surprise, Carol had joined her. I suspect she did it to keep my attention away from Becky. I felt a bit guilty about not joining Carol when she removed her bikini, but more guilty -- or more fearful of Ma and Pa finding out -- about being in a sleepover with naked girls and bikini- clad girls. As far as I knew, Ma and Pa never knew that any of us had gotten naked during the sleepover. Actually, I did get naked with Carol a couple times. The first time was the first night after waking up from a wet dream/nightmare where I was kissing and making out with Hot Bikini-Clad Clarinet Babe, my transformed clarinet teacher, Brandon Oregon. I'd woken up to find Carol kissing me in her sleep. She'd promptly woken up, and we'd both gone to the bathroom to relieve ourselves and clean off our swimwear, and had gone back to sleep nude next to each other. I was so sleepy at the time that I thought nothing of it. The second time was after we got back from shopping, and we changed out of our street clothes -- or in my case, out of that silly boy's dress they'd got me into -- and back into our swimwear. Carol's and mine were both hanging in the bathroom, and for some reason it didn't occur to either of us for me to wait and take my turn after she changed. We went in together. I did get to look her up and down as we changed, and noticed that she had the perfect body. Of course, as usual, her wonderful smile lit up everything and made it all the prettier. Bizarrely, the point when I went all bug-eyed over Carol was neither of these times, but when she appeared that morning in a sleeveless top, jeans, and sneakers. I suppose it helped that her clothes rather smoothly followed and accentuated her curves, but still. "See anything you like?" she'd asked with her winning smile. I could only nod slowly, I'd been in such a daze. I remembered getting home Saturday evening after the sleepover and the day at Bikini Beach. Pa greeted me with a long lecture. "I would have vetoed your participation had I known -- said an absolute no." "It's one thing to make friends with girls; it's another thing entirely to spend the night with girls." "I'm very happy that you've actually made friends this summer, and played actively with them. You've grown up as too much of a loner." "I'll even admit to being a bit jealous or envious of you having a harem of girls. Nothing like that ever happened with me when I was growing up." I'd maintained an embarrassed, frozen, silence throughout the lecture, particularly mortified at the "harem" suggestion. At Bikini Beach, and most of the time with them elsewhere, I was just "one of the girls" -- in the metaphorical sense. Also, two of the girls were actually GIRLs. I didn't say any of that, though. It was true most of the time at the sleepover as well. Pa ended the lecture with, "You promise me, Luke, you won't do it before marriage?" "It" was have sex. Intimidated and humiliated by the lecture, I promptly agreed to the promise. Awake now from the nightmare, I saw that it was still dark outside. I got up, went to the bathroom, then returned to bed. I fell asleep hoping I wouldn't have another nightmare. . . . . I woke up again in the morning, and lay in bed a little while. Someone knocked lightly on the door, and I called out, "Come in, Ruth!" She entered, still in her pajamas. We'd eavesdropped on Ma's Firmlove group meeting last night -- and also when Ma and Mrs. Winstead had talked alone. To my embarrassment, Ma and Mrs. Winstead were about to get into a catfight. Catfights are exciting and arousing -- but not when one's your Ma. We overheard definitely that Bikini Beach had changed my big brother Peter into Ruth. Then on July 4th, something had happened to lead Ma and Mrs. Winstead to have Bikini Beach shift reality and change all our memories of Ruth, as well as all our memories of Peter. Apparently, Mrs. Winstead still remembered, but inadvertently, the reality-shift had hit Ma and she didn't remember any more. I'd wanted to go punch Ma and Mrs. Winstead out, but instead, I'd stayed hidden behind the pantry door in the kitchen. I felt like going and punching Ma out now, and said as much. "Luke, you really don't want to do that," replied Ruth. "Ma wouldn't remember why, and Pa's here as well." Apparently Peter had been accused of raping and murdering Alice's cousin Jill. Had he been changed to Ruth to protect him? To punish him? To reform him? Everything Mrs. Winstead said suggested that it was the latter two, rather than the first, but I couldn't remember what. "We have to discuss things," continued Ruth, sitting on the bed next to me, as I sat up. "What Ma and Mrs. Winstead said about you in particular," I replied. "You as Peter." "Yeah," she said. "I think we should go to the library this morning, and talk about it there, or maybe the mall, where Ma and Pa won't hear us." The Mental Work was playing as usual during breakfast, and during its "What is God?" passage, a depressing thought came to mind. My two- week pass for Bikini Beach had expired. Would I continue to see the girls? Well, Carol definitely. I couldn't help smiling, feeling something like -- well, very happy. Last week, she always managed to catch me either before or after Taekwondo, and always walked home with Ruth and me. I blushed at the memory of the sleepover and the things I saw and did -- hopefully I concealed it drinking down my orange juice. When we'd met again Monday, both of us had blushed and frozen in embarrassment, before we finally laughed, and hugged each other. "What was Friday remains Friday," we agreed. My dick was hard under my jeans. Fortunately, the table concealed it. That train of thought led to my the clarinet lesson I attended Friday. I'd seen Mr. Oregon at the July 4th celebration at Bikini Beach, and he'd become Hot Bikini-Clad Clarinet Babe in the orchestra. I'd gone catatonic with shock. What was particularly bizarre at the time was that a uniquely bimbo-headed comment of Becky's, "Maybe he's a girl now," turned out to be unbelievably right. Thinking of a teacher as sexy was always embarrassing for me, and going to last Friday's clarinet lesson had been a most nerve-wracking, frightening, terrifying prospect. Fortunately, the experience itself turned out not so bad. Mental Work reached the Mental Malpractice section, and I glanced over at Ruth. Our eyes met, Ruth gestured at Ma, and I nodded. I was angry at Ma, but did my best not to show it. The Mental Work ended, and we had to listen to the Lesson Sermon, with me reading the Bible passages -- I'd recorded them with Ma on Monday. I couldn't stand to hear myself; I sounded like a stuffed turkey. I tried to shut it out, and think more about my exciting memories at the sleepover, but my voice always intruded. The end of the Lesson-Sermon ended my musings. Daisy came over to play, and when she found out we were going to the library, wanted to go as well. "Children, don't forget your activities today," said Ma. "Let's change now," said Ruth. "The mall's not far from the library, so we can go directly there." "That's a plan," said Ma. "I'll drive you to the library. Luke, I hold you responsible for getting Ruth to her ballet class on time." "I promise. You can count on me." I would actually have to get Ruth there early, to get to Taekwondo on time. "Let's get changed." I changed into my white Taekwondo uniform, and Ruth got into her leotard and tights, adding the wraparound skirt to make her respectable for the library. All three of us sat in the back seat when Ma drove us to the library. "Make sure you get Ruth to ballet on time," she admonished again. The original plan was to discuss Peter and Bikini Beach, to see what we could figure out and what we could do, but we couldn't do that with Daisy around. I was returning some books, and Ruth dumped her books on top of mine and dragged Daisy off. I set the books on the counter, checking that none were overdue, and went off toward the adult section, my stomach aching and fluttering with excitement. Did I dare find and read Forbidden Flowers? Did I want to risk getting caught? I went to the science fiction and fantasy section and browsed a little, before working up my nerve to go to that section with Forbidden Flowers and the other sex books. Finally, I dared. The excitement got just too much to resist. I was in the middle of a favorite fantasy, when... "Oh, I knew that had to be you, Luke!" came Carol's voice from behind, speaking softly as appropriate in a library. "I recognized your Taekwondo clothes. Say, what's that you're reading?" Mortified at being caught, tried to cover and hide the book, and keep it away. "Oh come on, let me see." She pulled it out from under me. "Forbidden Flowers: More Women's Sexual Fantasies." She laughed. "Sounds exciting!" She looked at the passage I was reading, and took a minute to read through it herself. "Hee hee, a religious pervert corrupting an innocent girl, having the Holy Spirit possess her in a frenzy of religious ecstasy." We read a few more accounts together. "This is hot stuff!" she said in a husky tone. I turned to face her; her face was all flushed, and her breathing was rasping. She grabbed my head and pulled me in for a hard kiss. My goodness, she must have found them even more exciting than I did! I wrapped my arms around her waist and torso, and we pressed hard up against each other. She was humming and purring, and I felt like humming myself. The kiss must have lasted at least a minute before we finally broke apart. "Oh, my!" she exclaimed. "I think we should stop reading now. We might get really out of control -- not only that, we might lose track of time. You have Taekwondo, and Ruth has to get to ballet class. I take it Ruth's here with you?" "Yep. Daisy, too." "Maybe we can read more of this book some other time," said Carol. "When we have more time -- lots more time. Perhaps in one of the study rooms. The walls are soundproof, so we don't have to worry about keeping quiet." She giggled. "I don't think we should try to check this book out, or buy it at a bookstore." "Oh heavens, no!" I exclaimed. "I wouldn't want anyone to know I read this." "We're too young, too. They might tell our parents, or otherwise get us in trouble. Hmm... Maybe Nancy could buy a copy, or perhaps Mom," said Carol. "Yikes! You'd actually tell your mom about this?" Carol laughed, shook her head in an ambiguous way, lit up the library with her smile, and didn't answer the question. "Let's go get your sister and get off to the mall." She turned and started off. I slipped the book back into the shelf, and followed her. I let her lead the way, content to follow from behind and look her perfect stout body up and down. She was almost made for jeans and tee-shirt. I remembered the one-piece thong swimsuit she wore on July 4th. She'd certainly looked hot but I kept wondering how she could stand that strip of material creeping down into her bottom. Walking behind her, I found her hotter, more attractive, in jeans and tee-shirt. As expected, we found Ruth and Daisy in the children's section. They were reading a book together. Ruth greeted us, then stood up and said, "We'd better get going, Daisy." We went to the checkout desk and everyone but me checked out books, and we departed. Carol and Daisy took my hands, and Ruth took Daisy's. "Peter, why didn't you check any books out?" asked Daisy out of the blue. "Well, the book I was reading, um, isn't one that wanted to be checked out." I felt really at a loss for words there. "How can a book not want to be checked out?" asked Daisy. "It's not a book they would let him check out," said Carol. "Oh," said Daisy. I was thinking of saying something about not wanting them to know I was reading that book. But Carol pulled down on my hand, and I got the message from her glance at me to leave well enough alone. "Um, why did you call Luke Peter?" asked Ruth. "Oh-my-God, I can't believe I did that! It's stupid, really. I have I guess this imaginary friend, a man, the ideal babysitter. I often imagine I'm with him, sitting next to him or on his lap, holding hands, playing games -- hide-n-seek, Sorry, Monopoly, Life. I imagine climbing on him, hugging him, kissing him, riding him like a horsey, sitting on his lap. I imagine his face floating in front. He's, like, the perfect babysitter." I let out my breath after holding it, and took another deep breath. Gees, I'm a guy, and yet that seemed so romantic. I didn't notice she was leaning against me while talking, until she suddenly jumped away, and laughed in obvious embarrassment. After she calmed down, she said, "I don't know where that came from; I never needed a babysitter. You and your family were my babysitters when Mom and Dad had to go out, Ruth. I imagine him as looking like you, Luke." She again leaned against me, deliberately this time. "Um," I was blushing and uncertain about my words. "I don't know how good a babysitter I'd make." "Luke, you're a wonderful big brother," said Ruth, to further my embarrassment. "You'd make a wonderful babysitter. "Hey, Ruth," I said. "Should we tell them about the catfight Ma and Mrs. Winstead almost had last night?" "A catfight?" asked Daisy. "Your Ma isn't a cat!" Carol explained, "Guys like to call it a catfight when they see two girls fighting. They think it's hot and sexy. The boys imagine the girls having long fingernails like the claws of cats or tigers." I continued, "It's also a catfight if girls are shouting at each other, like calling each other bitch or Bi-Otch or something." Daisy said, "Oooo, that's a bad word!" "Mrs. Winstead actually called Ma that," said Ruth. "I thought she said witch," I said. "Anyways, Carol, catfights aren't sexy if Ma's one of the fighters," I said. "Luke," countered Carol, "Catfights aren't sexy, period." We arrived at Ruth's ballet studio before I could talk any further. Daisy hesitated a long time, before deciding to stay and watch Ruth. Carol joined me, and we went hand-in-hand to my TKD class. On the way, Carol said, "You remember about Bikini Beach changes, right?" "How could I forget July 4th? My own clarinet teacher, Brandon Oregon, being a hot bikini-clad young lady. I suppose it's different with girls, but the very idea of a teacher... well," I fumbled my words. "Thinking of one as sexy, having a crush on a teacher... or any authority figure... It's repulsive. Embarrassing." "But you did find out that Bikini Beach changes men and boys to girls and women there, right?" she asked. "Yeah, learning that two of you girls were actually... um..." "GIRLs. I like Jen's acronym. But three of us." "I don't understand. You're saying you're one as well?" "Not me," said Carol. "Now that I think about it, though, I might be one and not know it. But think about it." By that time, we reached the TKD dojang. "Hi Luke," said one of the guys there. "I see you brought your girlfriend again." I blushed furiously, as Carol smiled at me, let go of my hand, brought her hand around my shoulders, and pulled me against her. I slowly put my arm around her waist. As with every TKD session for the past couple of weeks, Carol stayed and watched. Afterwards, as she took my hand and we returned to pick up Ruth, Carol said, "Did you think about it?" "No, I was focused on the exercises and instruction." Actually, I did for a moment during the break, and it occurred to me that she might have meant that I was a girl then. But I didn't want to mention it; I couldn't handle it. So instead, I returned to the catfight. "Ma's catfight last night involved Ruth and Bikini Beach. Did I tell you what happened last week?" "Well, Ruth had to spend the night at someone's house," Carol said. "Mrs. Winstead's. Last Tuesday, a week ago, Ma returned from her Firmlove meeting furious at Mrs. Winstead. She repeated to Pa, not caring that I was in the room, interesting stuff -- crazy, Ma thought. I would have thought so had I not known better. Stuff about Ruth leaving clues that she was seventeen-year-old Peter. "Ruth overheard it too, and took the possibility with surprising equanimity. We noticed that her original eight-year pass would have expired when she was seventeen. Anyway, last night, Firmlove came to our house. Ma tried to get Mrs. Winstead expelled for the crazy things about Bikini Beach and Ruth she said last week. "It was during break that Ma and Mrs. Winstead got into the argument, and she said a lot of stuff about Ruth and Peter -- Ruth's former self. Ruth's lifetime membership included a reality-shift making everyone forget what Ruth did beforehand. Everyone but Mrs. Winstead. Ma got caught in it, and forgot everything as well." At this point, Carol said, "Poetic justice." I chuckled, and she continued, "I take it that Ruth's original eight-year membership changed her from seventeen-year-old Peter?" "Of course," I answered. "That's when we first visited Bikini Beach. And now, we don't remember what Ruth did during those first two weeks after." By that time, we reached the ballet studio. A minute later, Ruth and Daisy emerged among a group, chattering among themselves. "Luke and his girlfriend are waiting as usual for you," one said to Ruth. I saw a brief look of poison on Daisy's face, and she ran over and grabbed my other hand. Ruth took Daisy's free hand, and I heard her whisper in Daisy's ear, "Carol's being very good to you. Don't be so jealous." We started the mile or so home all four of us hand-in-hand. It always felt nice to have two pretty girls holding my hands, although hints of jealousy between the girls weren't so nice. "Daisy," asked Carol, "what do you know about Bikini Beach?" "Just that it's a girls-only water park. Mom and Dad don't want me to have anything to do with it." "Did they say why?" I asked. "Just that it's evil. I'm confused though," said Daisy. "It's a girls-only park, yet Luke goes there all the time." I didn't want to get anywhere near the topic of me changing into a girl or something, so I quickly changed the subject. "Tell us more about your Peter, Daisy." This time, Daisy blushed in embarrassment. I'd rather she be embarrassed than me, thank you. She didn't answer, so I asked, "Did Peter have any brothers and sisters?" "This is all my imagination, of course. But I always thought of him having a kid brother. He sometimes talks about him. His brother's name is -- oh my gosh, you're his kid brother Luke! This is getting creepy!" "You called him the ideal babysitter. Did he babysit you and Ruth at the same time?" "He babysat only me, played games only with me. Ruth was never around, and I never thought of Ruth. That's crazy, and I'm so sorry, Ruth. You're my best friend!" Teary-eyed, she turned and hugged Ruth. "And I never had a babysitter, either!" "Daisy, this is actually wonderful." Ruth turned and looked at her. "You may be remembering what Bikini Beach made us all forget." "Ruth, you're scaring me." "Bikini Beach changes people, and makes people forget. When I first went to Bikini Beach, it changed me from Peter, a seventeen-year-old boy and Luke's older brother, to Ruth. I only know about this because of what Luke calls the catfight between Ma and Mrs. Winstead. Everyone forgot except I guess Ma and myself and Mrs. Winstead." "Mrs. Winstead called it a reality-shift," I added. "She also said another reality-shift was done when Ruth got the lifetime membership. We've all forgotten pretty much anything Ruth did before then, it sounds like." "Ruth's lifetime membership means that Ruth never gets back to being Peter," said Carol. "You know, Luke, that Bikini Beach changes last through the expiration of the membership?" I knew what Carol was driving for, and I grimaced at the idea of being a girl. I also remembered that last Friday, it was the hardest thing ever to go to clarinet lesson, remembering Mr. Oregon as Hot Bikini- Clad Clarinet Babe at Bikini Beach on July 4th. "Luke?" repeated Carol. When I didn't respond, she continued, "What do you remember? Do you remember yourself as a girl?" "Um," I finally responded, embarrassed again. "I mostly don't remember thinking about it. But at times I remember being a boy there -- the only boy among you girls, and the only boy in sight at Bikini Beach." "I remember that too," said Ruth. "As do I," said Carol. "That means that Bikini Beach has shifted all our memories, in addition to returning your boyhood. Because, at least at Bikini Beach, you were a girl." There it was, now flatly stated outright. "A boy remains a girl until the night after his guest pass or membership ends. I remember you getting -- what?" "A two-week pass that expired ... yesterday ... last night?" I answered, gulping. "That would mean that you were a girl for two weeks until last night," Carol said. "And no matter what we remember, you were a girl at the sleepover last week. It was six girls, not five girls and one boy." On Monday, Carol and I had agreed, "What happened Friday stays Friday." I remembered Spin the Bottle, kissing all the girls, and almost losing my virginity several times -- usually to Carol. (It would have been mortifying to lose it with my friend Bruce-turned- Becky.) How much of that was false memory? "Do you remember using the girls' changing room with the rest of us?" asked Carol. "No, I always used the men's room." Me use the women's room? What did Carol take me for? "I was always alone." I hesitated. "Except when Vanessa joined me that time we both got the passes. She must have been Vernon then." I was just totally confused now. Carol must have seen it. "Don't worry about it. Bikini Beach transformations are not meant to be understood by mere mortals." When we got home, Ma was ironing some clothes. "Hello, everyone. Welcome, Carol, great to see you again." "Hello, Mrs. Cuttington. It's great to visit." As usual, Ruth took her shower first. Daisy went upstairs with her. Even though the walk home dried me off, I felt still too grimy or dirty from Taekwondo to sit on any of the seats in the living room, so I sat on the floor, and Carol joined me. We chatted about inconsequential things, as Ma was around and could potentially hear us. "The bathroom's free!" shouted Ruth from upstairs. "I'd invite you," I mouthed as I stood up, "but," and I gestured with my eyes and thumb toward Ma in the kitchen. Carol laughed and smiled, and my heart fluttered. Did the room seem brighter somehow? I headed upstairs to my room, removed my TKD uniform and dumped it in the hamper, then grabbed a bathrobe and crossed over to the bathroom for my shower. It felt good to get cleaned off, although not as good as the showers at Bikini Beach. Come to think of it, was it the showers that contained the ingredient that changed the boy to a girl, and changed everyone else's memories and records and physical objects? That must be some potent water there. My shower finished, I dried off and returned to my bedroom to dress in knee-length shorts and a tee-shirt. I returned downstairs to see Ma and Carol sitting next to each other on the sofa, with a fat book of old photographs of Ruth and me at younger ages. "Hey, Luke!" said Carol. "I like these old pictures of you!" "These were before Ruth was born, of course," said Ma, indicating a series of pictures of me as a toddler with a faceful of spaghetti. "Ma!" I exclaimed. Ma continued to show photographs of me in various situations, compromising and otherwise. At least a few were of me naked. A while later, Ma announced, "I have to go shopping. Can you think of anything we need?" I couldn't think of anything, and Ma went up to Ruth's room to ask Ruth. She came back down a moment later. "See you later; I'll return in an hour or so." I sat down on the sofa next to Carol. "I take it you liked those mortifying pictures of me." "You were cute as a youngster. Anyway, that's just par for the course. Mothers always like to show potential daughters-in-law embarrassing pictures of their sons as little boys." Potential daughters-in-law, eh? I turned toward Carol, looked her up and down, liking what I saw -- jeans, tee-shirt, everything. "You know," I said, "I think I've seen you in bikinis too often." She was one of the girls who always wore bikinis at Bikini Beach -- except for July 4th, when she wore the one-piece thong. "The time I remember going all bug-eyed over you--" "--I wore a new pair of jeans, and a nice top." She smiled her heart- stopping smile. "You were ogling me today as well, in my worn jeans and plain tee-shirt. You know, Bikini Beach is supposed to be for girls and women to enjoy swimming and such, out of the presence of boys ogling them in their swimwear." "Becky, of course--" I began. "--shreds that argument," she finished. "Anyway, it's really quite flattering to be ogled even in my most plain clothes." She smiled again. "You have a wonderful smile. I never told you this," I said. "Why thank you!" she smiled again. "It lights up everything, and nothing around you is plain in any way when you smile." "Flattery will get you everywhere," said Carol with a light laugh sounding almost as good as her smile. Feeling rather daring, I carefully put my arms around her -- and she put her arms around me, and we pulled each other together. I'd suddenly gotten hard down there. We were about to kiss when I noticed Ruth coming down the stairs with Daisy. We suddenly pulled apart. "Don't mind us," said Ruth. "Just pretend we're not here." She lay down on the rug with her book. Daisy, meanwhile, climbed on my lap, pulled my arm around her waist, got herself comfortable, and opened her book. "Um, on the other hand, maybe you should mind us," Ruth corrected herself. A couple minutes later, Ruth got up and asked, "Hey, Carol, may I sit on your lap?" "Fine with me," she said. "Heck, if Luke can sit on my lap, then Ruth can too." Ruth climbed up and made herself comfortable. Carol was referring to the Saturday after July 4th, when we squeezed into Aunt Yuko's microscopic car. We had to squeeze in seven in a car built for four, and for some reason, Alice refused to sit on either of our laps, preferring instead to be squashed between me on Carol's lap and Jen on Vanessa's lap. It was perhaps the only argument we ever had, but Carol and I argued about who should sit on whose lap. We were both the same height and about the same weight, and Carol wanted me on her lap, while I wanted her on my lap. Becky finally suggested Rock, Scissors, Paper to decide, and Carol won. So I wound up sitting on her lap, squashing her down. She'd had her arms around me, pulling me hard against her. Now both of us sat with one arm around the girl on our lap, holding hands with the other. The girls got to reading their books. Daisy's book was "Squire" by Tamora Pierce. Ruth was reading, "First Test." I found myself dozing off, leaning against Carol, and didn't catch when the youngsters dropped their books and dozed off as well. I heard the garage door open, and in a momentary panic forced myself awake. The girls were still dozing. "Girls? Ma's home. I don't think we want Ma to catch us like this. Let's get up now." Ruth jumped off. Daisy slithered off my lap, saying, "I don't think your Ma would mind too much." "Nah," agreed Carol. "Your Ma would find it cute -- more than just cute, moh-eh, cuddly. She'd want a camera to immortalize the scene for everyone to see." Nevertheless, she slid away from me even as I slid away from her. I jumped up as Ma entered with a full bag and asked, "Hi Ma. Need help with the groceries?" "Why thank you, Luke. Yes, that would be wonderful." So I went out and grabbed two bags from the trunk, and carried them into the kitchen. Carol was just behind and took a bag as well. "Just set them on the table," Ma said. "Thank you." There were several other bags, but with three of us working together, we got everything in quickly. The four of us spent the rest of the afternoon playing outside together, joined by other children Ruth's age. Pa came home, and both Carol and Daisy stayed for supper. Daisy was all dressed up again -- was she going to come to church again with us? After dinner, I had to shower and change for Wednesday evening church. I decided to wear that new suit I'd bought last Friday. I'd worn it Sunday, and it fit wonderfully. Ma, Pa, and Ruth had all cheered me in it, Ma even saying I looked like Pa when she first saw him. Ma also said at the time, that we should have gotten a new suit long ago, that shopping with the girls Friday should have been a day for splurging on fun stuff -- not for getting a new essential item. Of course, I never mentioned the "boy's dress" they'd urged on me (and bought for me) now hidden in the back of my closet. I'd actually worn it the rest of the day -- and a couple girls and a gay guy had hit on me: "Nice dress, dude!" and suggested going off for a little fun. Fortunately, Carol had rescued me, saying in no uncertain terms that I was with her. That had engendered a comment, "So you're the one wearing the pants of the pair." I never imagined I'd actually like wearing a suit. I'd had too much experience with that old uncomfortable, tight suit. I tried to comb my hair, but it didn't work out very well, as usual, and Pa had to comb it for me. "Wawawow, Luke!" said a stunned Daisy, hugging me -- very embarrassing in front of Ma and Pa. "Yes, my big brother looks most handsome," said Ruth. "Luke, oh my! You look even better than you did last Friday!" exclaimed Carol, throwing her arms around me and kissing my cheek. If Daisy's hug was embarrassing, this was most mortifying in front of Ma and Pa. I froze with my face burning, and the spot on my cheek really standing out. Like last week, we left early enough to drop Carol off at her house, before going to church. Again, Daisy insisted on sitting on my lap. After we dropped Carol off, Pa commented to me in the back seat, "You're far too young for us to think about things like this, but Carol would be a great addition to the family." Daisy made an instantaneous noise behind her closed mouth, through her nose, and turned and pressed hard against me. I could see the silent grief in her face, and my arms instinctively went around her. I don't think anyone noticed, except possibly Ruth. I certainly hope Ma and Pa didn't. The service was boring as usual, except for the hymns. At least the readings from the Bible and "Science and Health" were short, before the Lord's Prayer and the middle hymn. The most boring part was the testimony section following the second hymn -- in particular, the periods of silence between testimonials. Tonight, the boredom was relieved a little bit by Daisy sitting next to me and leaning against me or clinging to my arm. I wondered if Ma or Pa noticed, sitting on the other side of me. Some of the testimonies sounded actually interesting. A woman stood up and told of her daughter, "Alice, about nine at the time. She was deluded into thinking that she was a boy named John. We tried discipline. We tried psychology and psychiatry. Nothing worked; she kept complaining that she was a boy. Finally, just out of curiosity, I entered a Christian Science Reading Room, and discovered Mrs. Eddy's `Science and Health.' I learned from `Science and Health' that the healthy situation of children was dependent on the mental state of the parents. We had to correct our own belief that our daughter was subject to delusions, and to realize that there is but one Mind. God is Mind, and cannot be deluded. "I realized that I did not, could not have a daughter who was deluded in any shape or form. Once my husband and I realized this, the claim of a deluded daughter thinking she was a boy completely vanished. I am so grateful for Mrs. Eddy and Christian Science." Hmmmm, I wondered, as the First Reader nodded with a smile and the lady resumed her seat. Was this a Bikini Beach transformation or something? I knew that some time, one of these years, I would be expected to stand up and give a testimony in front of all these people. The very idea was terrifying. Maybe if Christian Science undid what Bikini Beach, Ma, and Mrs. Winstead had done to Ruth -- restore Ruth to Peter, or at the very least, restore Peter's memories to Ruth and memories of him to the rest of us, I'd have my testimonial. Eventually, the First Reader ended the boredom and announced the final hymn. The service promptly ended upon the end of the hymn -- some people literally turned and exited the pews and walked out as soon as the hymn ended. Others of us stayed to listen to the following incidental organ music. Daisy sat on my lap again, on the way home. She fell asleep. Ruth fell asleep as well, although she woke up at pretty much every turn of the car, and again when we finally got home. I had to carry Daisy inside and up to Ruth's room, and Ruth insisted that I help her get the still half-asleep Daisy out of her church dress and into a nightgown. (It occurred to me just before I fell asleep in my own bed that it would have been more appropriate to ask Ma to do it instead.) ****************************** A Bikini Beach Summer by Daphne Xu Part 13 Thanks to ElrodW, Bikini Beach's creator, for invaluable comments on this story. The Bikini Beach universe and its principal characters are copyright 2001 by him. Any comments about Bikini Beach, how it works, what it does, by characters other than Anya or Grandmother are potentially non- canonical and wrong. As this story is told from a particular point of view by the protagonist, this includes comments by the narrator. The protagonist, and thus the narrative, are what the protagonist believes or interprets from what he is experiencing. Thus some of the mechanics of BB are biased by the protagonist's view and experiences. Furthermore, because of the particular viewpoint of the story, those errors often won't be corrected. When the errors are corrected, the correction will often be disbelieved and rejected. Thursday, July 17th "Luke, the Kings are here!" called up Ma. "Coming!" I was all ready, in my swimming trunks and sneakers and socks just like Tuesday to cover my mortifying Lucky-Charms toenails - - they were mostly faded out by now, but I still didn't want Ma or Pa to see even their remnants. They weren't so bad at Bikini Beach, although a couple girls there giggled and said, "I like your toes!" I went downstairs, Ma gave me enough money for a one-day pass and meals. Daisy, who'd spent the night, hugged us both. Her hug felt nice on my bare chest. Ruth and I got into the SUV. Helen and Vernon were there, of course, in their swimwear. To my surprise, Jen was there. She was leaning against Vernon's bare torso, and Vernon had his arm around her. "Jen spent the last two nights and yesterday with Vernon," announced Helen. "They were awfully loud -- especially Jen." "Helen!" said Mrs. King. "What an awful thing to say!" "But it's true!" I just sat there in shock and excitement, thinking about the activities they must have engaged in. I shifted my equipment on my lap to make sure my growing bulge was hidden. Jen was bent over in mortification. I briefly saw her face trying to hold back tears, as Vernon pressed her to his chest. "Helen," he said slowly and deliberately, glaring at her. "If you were my little brother, you wouldn't last ten minutes." "Nanny nanny boo-boo, you're gonna be my big sister in thirty minutes!" Helen stuck her tongue out at Vernon. "And as your big sister, I'll have no qualms in grabbing you by the scruff of your neck and flinging you all the way back to the last millennium." "Children, children!" said Mrs. King. "Helen, look what you did to Jen. Apologize promptly, or I'll put you over my knee when we reach Bikini Beach." Helen looked over the back of the seat at Jen and Vernon, and Jen turned a distressed face to her. "Oh, no. Sorry, Jen." Helen actually looked it even. She lowered her own face to the seat. "It's okay," mumbled Jen. We eventually arrived at Bikini Beach. We were so accustomed to going directly for the turnstiles, that I had to remind myself that I needed to get a new pass. Ruth asked, "Mrs. King, can Helen and I go to the turnstiles? We still have our passes." "Sure, go ahead. Enjoy yourselves!" "I'll go with them," said J