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Christian College Sex Comedy: Part 27

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Christian College Sex Comedy: Part 27
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In 30 parts, By FinalStand. Listen to the

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Novels.



           

Children must face the scrutiny of their
parents    

The Dining Hall was almost a relief. That relief died the

moment I saw the banner over the front of the serving area in the Hall. 'Zane
Appreciation Day'. Since every word was spelled correctly, it wasn't some stunt
of Rio's, but beyond that, the list of suspects was too large to consider. This
could be a genuine outpouring of acceptance and sympathy for what I had endured
here. If you believe that, I have to ask you: 'Do you want your leprechaun pissing
Guinness or Irish Malt?'

 

Most likely, this was going to be some sort of

humiliation, and I think I knew the flavor, and I definitely knew how to find
out. See, in every seat of the Dining Hall was a big, bowling ball sized white
box with a name and secured with a gold and green ribbon, so no cheating; no
peeking. That last bit didn't deter me, though. I snuck up on the box marked
for Holiday Carpenter.

 

"Zane, does that have your name on it?"

Virginia Goodswell asked me, my English teacher and Spiritual Advisor. Hell, if
it had been Mrs. Marlowe, I would have opened it anyway, but Virginia was my
buddy so her next question didn't mean to stab a stake of regret through my
heart. "Where is Vivian?"

 

"I left my room before she was done." I looked

to the ground while I kicked some imaginary dust off the slate floor.

 

"Why don't you see if she's been calling you?"

she suggested. "She's probably worried." Worried, or homicidal
because, ya know, I had sort of run off without my phone, wallet, watch, book bag,
or anything else a 21st century student might need.

 

"I ran away like a big, fat chicken," I

confessed. "Anything not glued to my body I left behind."

 

"I'll give her a call." She pulled out her

phone and hit speed dial #2. I crap since her sick mother is probably #1. I am
such a big problem for her, she has my guardian on speed dial! "That is
Holiday Carpenter's box, Zane, not yours. Besides, there are strict
instructions to not open the boxes until instructed."

 

The panicky response I overheard from Virginia's

conversation with Vivian hardly helped my mood. She wanted to know if Virginia
knew where I was, she did; that I was okay, I was; and finally, what upset me,
because the other girls weren't talking but apparently Mercy had started
slapping Barbie Lynn around until Rio and Val pulled her off. Now, that made
less than no sense. Wasn't that supposed to work the other way around?

 

Virginia did a double check and sure enough, Mercy had

slammed Barbie Lynn into an open wardrobe on my behalf, and Rio and Val had
pulled her back. WTF! I am sure that Rio was right beside me on that one.
Vivian triple checked that I was physically and mentally okay and she sounded
so disappointed, in herself, as she did so. She was bringing my stuff; yes, I
am an earthworm. Virginia promised for me that I would remain here until she
arrived.

 

Some stupid gesture like a loud public apology, done on

bended knee, was blatantly unfair to Vivian, who only meant the best for me. I
made a quick apology, not trying to meet her eyes as I said the words and took
my stuff. All of 'my' girls seemed equally subdued. A minute after we had
garnered our victuals, Vivian put a hand on my elbow.

 

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Zane," Vivian

smiled warmly at me. "You take a lot of stress and pressure on yourself. I
understand that from time to time you need to take in a tiny bit of private
space for yourself. Clearly, you can't schedule any such time because nothing
around you stays a secret for very long and no one respects your privacy or
even asks what you need."

 

"Vivian," I was puzzled, "you deserve to

be righteously pissed with me. You are my Guardian and I promised to stay by
you or at least tell you where I was."

 

"Zane, we let you down," Vivian assured me.

"It is your dorm room and we are your guests, and we have been rather poor
guests at that."

 

"How about we call a truce?" I offer.

 

"I can live with that," Vivian smiled.

 

"Cut the Kumbaya-time, kids," Rio snorted

derisively. "Zane, what the fuck happened with Mercy?" Rio playfully
punched Mercy's arm to emphasize her uncertainty.

 

"Rio, Bro, drop it," I asked sincerely.

"Act like it didn't happen." Rio studied me a second, then got this
wickedly evil grin.

 

"What the hell are you talking about, Glenda?"

she hefted the box up then shook it. "It seems my damn box is glued shut.
Are we celebrating one thousand cunts licked by you, or what?"

 

Because Rio rarely expounded at a level below full

volume, next thing we hear is Mrs. Marlow snapping, "Ms. Talon, watch your
language; there are good Christian women being forced to sit within the sound
of your voice!"

 

"Gotcha, Ms. Mouthful," Rio snapped off with a

snap and a finger raised up like a pistol in the air.

 

"What did you say?" Marlowe closed the

distance.

 

"She was repeating what I pointed out," I

turned and smiled. "I said that you really had it going together this
morning; that you were more than a mouthful. That's a hip/trending term to
describe someone who is expressing themselves through clothing and make-up."

 

"You are lying, Mr. Braxton," she snarled.

 

"You are probably right, as I do so to you on

general principle, but good luck proving it in student court," I grinned
right back. We locked wills and she blinked first.

 

"Ms. Phillips," Marlowe turned on Vivian,

"what are you going to do about this?"

 

"Zane and Rio, would you please apologize for being

rude and insensitive to an educator who only wishes the best for the student
body?" Vivian requested.

 

"I so apologize," I bowed my head.

 

"I so apologize as well," Rio tacked on. Only

after Marlowe had gone to spread love and sunshine somewhere else did Rio lean
across me and whisper to Vivian.

 

"You rock!" Rio giggled gleefully. After all,

Rio and I had not apologized to Mrs. Marlowe because neither one of us believed
for a minute that she was 'an educator who only wishes the best for the student
body'. To that nameless entity, we owed a debt, and to Mrs. Marlow we owed a
generous 'fuck you,' and Vivian had made it all possible.

 

"Why, thank you, Rio," Vivian nodded her

acceptance of Rio's praise. "Jesus is the Peacemaker and we all should
attempt to emulate his teachings."

 

"So, I still don't get to lick you senseless?"

Rio snickered.

 

"No, no, you don't," Vivian smiled, even though

she didn't look at either of us. Vivian's going to rock as a mom.

 

The next half hour passed quietly. Everyone was curious

about the boxes but no one was too worried until a rumor suddenly appeared.
When it was suggested that they might have to put on bikinis, the fear set in.
I blamed, I don't know but I wish I had thought of it. I was still kicking
myself for the missed opportunity when my alien with the right face black and
left face white shows up with the right face white and left face black, Mhain
and Millicent.

 

"Death Match and you get to referee," Rio

teased me. "I'm so jealous; 500 bucks on the one with the soul."
Mhain glared hate at us while Millicent looked more than amused.

 

"Zane, come with us," Mhain gloated. I figured that

somehow my ordeal was coming to an end so I'd play along. I rose and they
steered me to the largest exit, flanking me.

 

Christina and Company grabbed their boxes and jumped up

quickly to follow me, though they looked as confused as I was, confirming none
of them were the architect of my discomfort. No sooner had we stepped into the
cool, sunlit lawn than everyone's phone rang, except mine. I was loving this,
right up there with having sandpaper buffing my sunburned abs.

 

"Open the box and follow the instructions,"

Christina informed me. "Is anyone going to do this?" My phone
vibrated once, then my whole body tingled before I could respond to the call.

 

"I am," Mhain gloated. "I was promised

something." She knelt and opened her box with enthusiasm; the others did
likewise but at a more sedate pace.

 

What came out of each box was almost identical, different

only in the anatomical part of the body indicated by the instructions. The
objects were all grapefruit-sized fur-balls that made darling little squeaks,
squeals and murmurs, amongst other sympathetic noises, all in tiny little
voices. They were to be placed on my body, but I didn't know how that would
work.

 

"Are we going to do this?" Chastity began to

say.

 

"It isn't sticky," Hope was also saying when

Mhain's flew out of her hand and hit the side of my left knee. She reached out
carefully to retrieve hers while the other girls circled in. The little
darlings were proving to be resilient little bastards. Several more leapt at me
from the hands of their owners.

 

All this time the furry grapefruit were giving little

'wee!' noises when they shot at me and screeched like demons when they were
removed, which was painful when they were on my flesh. I knew who was
responsible and she was going to pay, but not right now. I saw my closest
allies pulling back.

 

"TLM, Christina," I sighed in resignation.

"Let's get this over with." I was being totally self-sacrificial;
girls were starting to pile-up on us coming out of the Dining Hall. I didn't
want a riot. Mhain had technically tagged me first but not in the designated
spot, so I had Christina go first, she put one over my heart, not that I
thought Cordelia was stupid, but now she was just piling it on.

 

Mhain went next and she was sizzling and excited, she put

it on my lips, shutting me up. At least the girls were polite and organized
enough to come at me patiently. A few didn't get the 'memo' and their little
rug rats slipped out of their owner's grasp and got to play gleeful kamikaze as
they plowed into me.

 

It didn't hurt but I had this secret fear that the tiny

terrors would sprout fangs and tear into me. These little guys were murmuring
and mumbling and it wasn't until I was truly buried that a horrific realization
was made, the more that were on me, the greater their clinging power. In
retrospect, this would have been more useful if we hadn't passed the 700 mark.

 

I looked like a puffy, overweight, Sasquatch baby. I

could move but sitting down was a dream, as was running or going to the
bathroom. The damn things wouldn't shut up either. It fell to Hope and Iona to
hurry me (as much as possible) to Assembly; you know that place where I 'sit'
in front. At least no one could ask me anything with the expectation of
receiving an answer.

 

I no longer wondered how bad it could get; I knew it

would get worse, and while I didn't know how, I knew it would be soon. At the
start of Assembly my little friends joined in the singing, not using words but
in the tinny little noises they made, though admittedly they were enthusiastic
and determined. But it gets worse.

 

There was a discussion on stage after that fiasco about

removing me. Chancellor Bazz wanted me gone; Vice Chancellor Scarlett was not
in attendance but Virginia took up my cause. After all, it wasn't my fault, she
claimed.

 

"Well, Black, do something," the first three

rows heard Bazz demand of our Head of Security.

 

"I am not an engineer or a chemist," Black

replied. "Do you want me to shoot them off him?"

 

Oh, yeah, my girl Bazz wanted that, so bad. Of course,

what she really wanted was for Black to miss, but that wasn't going to happen.
Finally, the teachers decided to soldier on. When Chancellor Bazz stepped up to
begin services, the frightening fur-balls belted out 'Hail to the Chief.'

 

No one said a word, not a murmur. Chancellor Bazz stopped

and the munchkin chorus stopped too. Two more starts later and she gave up and
grudgingly took the 'praise' from my infestation. They were good throughout the
message and sermon but took up 'Hail to the Chief' when she tried to leave the
podium.

 

"Do something!" she screamed at Black. This

time, Gabrielle sedately headed my way. I didn't want to think of the pain
coming my way. My little buddies had my back. When she got within five feet the
all screamed, and I mean SCREAMED, in the loudest cacophony most of us present
had ever heard. I saw something I thought I would never see; Gabrielle
flinched.

 

Not so oddly, I was fine, hearing almost nothing. The

little guys on my ears soaked up the sound so I received a very watered-down
version of what they were doing. Gabrielle fell back and at the five foot mark,
the little guys shut up, mostly. They seemed to be making comforting noises to
one another, like one Zane-sized colony of brown mold.

 

"Get away from him; just get away from him,"

good old Doctor Melrose Bazz pleaded as she moved her hands away from her ears.
"Braxton, you stop this right now." I had a wee beastie on my mouth
and Bazz was not on the small list of people I would devour this thing for. If
she's looking for a conversation today, she's out of luck. She throws her hands
up in desperation and starts to storm off.

My little cock-sucking furry gonads (yes, I was getting

angry) fired up 'Hail to the Chief' yet again, and kept at it until she sat
down. Virginia got to thinking it's appropriate to call for the end of this
travesty but she's dealing with Cordelia Dresden, Top Gun of the Time Lord
Mafia. The weapon of choice; 'She's a Lady' by some guy named Tom Jones, the
ladies in my life will inform me about this later.

 

For a half a second she tries to fight her smile but she

surrenders, even letting the little guys go through the entire score before
talking. The little tinny voices were humming a song I didn't know but damn it,
it made me want to take Virginia out to a smoky Jazz club and dance until the
sun came up. Virginia actually started tapping her foot to rhythm and I began
thinking I might not be able to beat Cordelia. I'm not used to that sensation.

 

"Okay, now, whoever is doing this has put Zane

through enough and should remember that we should, as Christians, make students
feel safe and not make them subjects of humiliation," Virginia addressed
the student body. "I think we can end Assembly fifteen minutes early today
for a little bit of Christian charity. We can do it at Zane's first class, 204
Denning Hall."

 

By the way, I apparently have a play list. As Virginia

headed back, the fella's changed it up with 'Baby Got Back'. I wanted to die.
Virginia Goodswell has a truly fine ass, of this there is no doubt, I often
compare it to Barbie Lynn's, but please. Virginia stopped, turned toward me
with a dazzling smile and waggled her finger at me, then resumed her way to her
seat.

 

How is any of this my fault? I imagine I was lucky it

wasn't the Thong Song. I would have died, then come back as the undead to take
Cordelia to hell with me. It was with some relief that Vivian and Hope rallied
to my side. They had to both keep other students away, the other girls loved
poking me in different critters to make them call out in different pitches and
tenors, which was pleasant to hear if you liked overdosing on helium.

 

Surprise, surprise; no one came to my succor before

English class. I couldn't sit down. Okay, I tried, but any part of my body that
bent or that I sat on screamed bloody murder until I got off of it or stopped
putting on the press. I've heard about girlfriends like this but I've always
assumed I would have the courage to jump out of a 50 story building to escape.

 

What do you do if they come with you when you jump

besides basking in the vicarious thrill that comes from crushing half of them
beneath you before you go? I managed to do okay standing in the rear of the
class, only once giving in to the crushing fatigue of holding my arms somewhat
elevated for two hours. The two under my arms were especially cooperative and
didn't get too vocal when my arms did slip to my sides.

 

I couldn't do a thing about the occasional girl twisting

in her seat but either Raven's glare or Goodswell's cough brought their eyes
forward once more. At the end of class, Virginia decided to call Ms. Black and
have her take me to the Vice Chancellor's office to end this matter. Vivian and
Mercy provided support while Gabrielle kept her distance and cleared a path.

 

Rio helped out by playing my musical miscreants as if

they were a drum set while some part of the 700 members of my new posse and I
yelled at her to leave us alone. She really is my best friend. My tragically slow
pace was not my friend and everyone had to depart for their classes before I
finished the arduous travel to the Administration Building. Gabrielle's eyes
measuring you for a casket is a remarkable motivator but didn't stop Rio from
blowing a kiss to her "Mi Negro Naughtiness". I know, I know; one
day, Rio is just going to vanish without a trace.

 

"Ms. Reveal, I need an emergency meeting with the

Vice Chancellor," Ms. Black requested of Doctor Scarlett's personal
assistant. Ms. Reveal didn't miss Gabrielle keeping her distance from me. She
did make the call and I noticed the pictures of Ms. Mittens were still in
evidence.

 

"Who are you inside that suit?" Ms. Reveal

asked me.

 

I guess she assumed I wasn't a real baby Sasquatch; I was

really a baby Sasquatch disguised as a half-baked marshmallow. If three geeks
and a man working beneath his means jump out at me with proton-packs, I am
running for my life, which is to say 'I'm going to die.'

 

"This is Zane. He is not being rude, he can't

speak," Ms. Black was kind enough to cover for me.

 

"Oh, I understand," Ms. Reveal nodded, but in

such a way that expressed she didn't understand anything. "You two can go
in now," she said several awkward seconds later.

 

"Zane, you move as close to Ms. Reveal's desk as you

can while I get the door for you," Gabrielle instructed me. "Come in
when I call for you."

 

I'm sure Marisol Reveal was curious as to why Gabrielle

was dancing around me, trying to keep her distance. We almost made it; right as
she made it to the doorway, Doctor Scarlett opened the door and attempted to
see what the delay was. She was actually putting an award on a shelf she had
just received, the reason she missed Assembly, if you find that suspicious, and
was placing it on a shelf near the door.

 

Gabrielle responded as any slightly unbalanced killer

would do; she spun around, pulled out her gun from the unseen Realm of the Gods
of War, and pointed it at the stunned Victoria. That took her one half-step too
close to me and my little fellas let the world know it. I will give them this
much; they were still defending my eardrums.

 

By the way Marisol was holding her ears as her tears

flowed down her face it must have been pure agony for her since I was right
next to her. Gabrielle scoped up Victoria and sprinted into her office and they
obediently shut up.

 

"Za-, Zane, what was that?" Marisol blathered.

Since the furry meatball gone bad was still on my lips and I hadn't become that
hungry, I kept my silence.

 

"Zane!" Gabrielle called for me. I did my best

to shrug but it wasn't like I had a neck anymore so I don't know what she made
of my movement. I shuffled to the door and got a few good squeaks as I moved
inside. I was more than a little disturbed by the reaction I received from
Doctor Scarlett when she saw me from her seat behind her desk. She looked at me
and I swear, hand to my heart, she had an orgasm.

 

"You are covered in Tribbles," she gasped. I

had no fucking clue what a Tribble is but apparently, I was in the vast
minority. I staggered forward and since Gabrielle was on the right side of the
room, I angled to the left. I move halfway around Doctor Scarlett's desk so
that Gabrielle could go close the door, where she took up post and, from what
happened next engaged a Romulan Cloaking Device, whatever the Muggle-tech that
is.

 

Victoria was in some sort of dream-like trance. When she

started stumbling around the desk toward me, I waited for the musical assault
that never came. To my credit, I caught on in a second. If these creatures
existed, singing wasn't their normal activity, and Cordelia wanted these little
'Squeaky Meals' to be as real as possible, for Victoria. I was nothing but
bait.

 

Victoria reached out to caress the same one Christina had

placed over my heart. The little bugger cooed and Victoria clamped her thighs
together to contain another orgasm that coursed through her loins. Cool, all I
have to do to feel the wonders of Victoria Scarlett is dress myself in furry
grapefruit. I'm kicking myself for not seeing this obvious ploy.

 

She touches more and each makes a subtly different purr

of pleasure. This goes on and on until she's cuddled up against me, her arms
stroking over my back and rubbing her left leg up and down mine.

 

"Vice Chancellor, you do realize Zane Braxton is

TRAPPED inside those, contraptions," Gabrielle sounds the slightest bit
peeved.

 

The troops all make those little high-pitched notes of

longing as Victoria retreats a few steps, bringing Victoria almost to the point
where she launches herself back into me to comfort her little friends. I am
second fiddle to a discombobulated guinea pig; sometimes a man can feel pretty
small.

 

"Okay. How did this happen to you, Zane?"

Victoria asked.

 

"He cannot talk; one of those Tribbles is attached

to his lips," Black stated, "by an unknown force. Before you ask; I
am not an engineer or chemist." Victoria made this adorable little 'o'
expression, then reached for an offending Tribble.

 

"It hurts him to remove them," Gabrielle got out

just in time.

 

"Does it hurt the Tribble?" Victoria inquired.

Gee, thanks, Vic.

 

"Hold your ears," Gabrielle commanded. Well, I

couldn't comply, and Victoria had only started to scream 'stop' when Gabrielle
materialized a knife and speared 'Diddley-boo' off my shoulder.

 

I heard the little guy's death wail, then his death

rattle, as Gabrielle pulled him/her away until she was out of screaming range.
Diddley-boo? No, I have no idea what his/her name really was but I'm going to
have ICE check his immigration status when all of this is over, wait, I can't
do that; Gabrielle wacked the little snot and giving her up to the Feds is a
great way to create many widows and orphans. Diddley-boo was still twitching
erratically while Victoria was stuck between ecstasy and horror.

 

"You are a Klingon agent!" Victoria gasped as

she pointed an accusatory finger at Gabrielle. I am vaguely aware that they are
the stock-villains of Star Trek Universe and this odd snapshot of rightly
tight, athletic buns in tighter pants, but the reference memory for the scene
escapes me. By the facial reaction Gabrielle gives, Victoria just called candy
sweet, or jalapenos hot; she appreciates the comparison.

 

All the surviving members of the Tribble tribe wept a

cacophony of pain and loss. I would have had more sympathy if their moans had
not been vibrating my body like a jello mold.

 

"Romulan," Gabrielle countered; the other stock

Trekkie villains, but they have better teeth. First amongst our Honored Dead,
DB hardly quivers as Ms. Black dissects it.

 

It bleeds/oozes and appears to be a living organism of

some kind, but Gabrielle points to several electronic devices, a CPU, and wires
connecting all kinds of things inside the organic body.

 

"It is an organic husk over a sensory/auditory

device," Gabrielle tried to explain.

 

"Oh, my God," Victoria's mind worked feverish

to defy reality, "they've been turned into Borgs."

 

She tore the one attached to my lips off. I didn't cry like

a televangelist publicly begging God for forgiveness for a moment, or 147
moments, of weakness with a rather sad-looking prostitute, but that was coming.

 

You see, Victoria gripped her weeping diminutive fuzzy

engine of humiliation tightly when she yanked it off, so she let go of it
because the little blighter sounded hurt.

 

It gave off a more muted and mournful 'wee' as it smacked

into the corner of my mouth. I was able to dodge a direct hit.

 

"Scarlett," Gabrielle seethed, "if, you,

would, listen, for, a, moment; they are painful to be removed from his flesh
and they will attempt to reattach themselves to him if they are brought within
one foot. I have no idea why."

 

"Zane, are you in much pain?" Doctor Scarlett

inquired while scanning my body fungi.

 

"Yes, but I'm sure if you kick me in the nuts, I'll

feel better," I mumbled through a joke.

 

"I can't do that," Victoria gasped. "You

have Tribbles down there." Yes, I feel special.

 

"That's it," Gabrielle snapped. "I'm going

to get help." She spun around and breezed out the door, slamming it in her
wake.

 

"Thanks for abandoning me, Gabby," I shouted as

loud as I was able. "It's not like Vic's totally lost her mind or anything
like that."

 

"I have not lost my mind," Victoria responded

with a deceptively calm, soothing tone. She reinforced my calm by locking the
door, then locking in the deadbolt, yes, I felt much safer.

 

My merry band of orphan coconuts helped things along the

cliffs of sanity by cooing and 'talking' to Victoria as she walked around the
office, and she gaily responded to them.

 

"Ms. Reveal, this is going to be a difficult

intervention. Inform me when lunch time gets here," Victoria communicated
to her assistant, then added, "I need a box of outdoor trash bags; leave
them at the door."

 

Having a hot lady like Victoria Scarlett lock the door

and asking for almost 3 hours of 'alone' time with me is a mature pipe dream of
mine, and that dream really meets a bloody end when she asks for roughly 30
bags with a fifty-gallon capacity each. If she pulls out a hacksaw or a
'cow-stunner,' I'm racing for the window behind the Doc's desk. I'll be gone in
90 seconds, sort of like an inexpensive microwave dinner.

 

Doctor Scarlett returned to her desk, turned her spy-cam around,

and started making calls. I honestly maintained a miniscule hope that she might
still help me. She was talking curtly to another doctor whose name I didn't
recognize. What came out of her mouth next sounded like a combination of eating
raw meat all your life and gargling with sand regularly; add to that an
inflection of someone wanting to kick elementary kids into the paths of
oncoming busses and you had the language she was using.

 

Victoria's stance even changed. She thrust out her chest,

put her hands on her hips, and a predatory sneer took up permanent residency on
her lips. She even beat on her desk hard during this little exchange before
laughing in a way that made kittens piss on themselves before you hung them.

 

"Vice Chancellor, Doctor Victoria Scarlett, umm,

what's going on?" I said careful.

 

I'm not so much terrified of Victoria at this point, as I

am suspicious of my ability to fight at the moment.

 

"Everything is fine, Zane," Victoria assured

me. "In essence, I am bringing in some experts in the field. You can trust
me on this; we've been expecting contact like this for years." Huh?

 

"So, ah, that was an Albanian Biologist?" I

hoped.

 

"No, that was Vor' Dura, Flight Leader of the Blood

Quasar Fleet of the Klingon Empire," Victoria explained sedately, in the
same way any SANE individual described a Navy Commander. She turned her
computer screen so I could see the person's profile pic.

 

"How does she breathe in that thing?" I

wondered. "That's one hell of a corset."

 

"That isn't a corset, Zane, its body armor. My suit

was created by the same armorer," she stated.

 

"You have something like that?" I boggled.

 

"Yes, the precise same suit. Vor' Dura is not as

blessed by her bloodlines, she's shorter, but otherwise, we are identical; our
alliance ended recently and soon she must face me in ritual combat; yield or
die." 'Yield or die' isn't what is centermost in my mind.

 

"Don't your boobs ever pop out of that thing?"

Because if you have been paying any attention; I am an idiot where sex is even
a remote possibility. Victoria can't meet my gaze but turns as red as her
namesake.

 

"On a few occasions," she confessed. I'm

thinking 'a few'. "Now I have a few more calls to make."

 

Yes, she's lost her ever-loving mind, and I have no

reasonable expectation of exit or rescue. I won't be able to get up enough
speed to bust out of the window so being on the first floor is meaningless. She
has the deadbolt key and when I stack up my Tribbles against her Science
Fiction fanaticism, I lose. She turns the monitor around and makes her next
call. This one starts with the victory salute, but the one done with two
fingers to each side.

 

"Excellent news," Vicky declares. "We have

confirmation of the temporal events from Deep Space Nine. I have compelling
data that I have encountered genetic derivatives of the dominant herbivorous
life forms of Iota Geminorum IV." And everything went to turkey-based
insanity after that. Again, they spoke rapidly in a language I knew nothing
about. They acted like giddy little schoolgirls, just schoolgirls with their
emotions surgically removed.

 

The final call went much same way except that this time,

the tone of the language was like the second but with the taint of a sleazy pimp
or grifter thinking she was a mob boss. These were the kinds of girls you never
let babysit your kids if you ever wanted to see them again. The way Vic looked
at me and the fellas made me worry about how long I could last in her brothel
and inspired an unexpected sympathy for these pests.

 

"Zane, do you promise to stay here while I, umm, get

some, umm outfits?" Victoria requests respectfully. She realizes she's
asking me a bizarre favor. Balthazar's Balls, I've been tied to a cross; how
much worse can this be? She scoots up to me, kisses me chastely on the lips and
waits.

 

"It is a given that my morning class schedule is

toast, and I'm no stranger to the entertainment industry so knock yourself
out," I allow, but I will have to pee at some time."

 

"Check; I'll stop by the infirmary and get a

catheter," she nods, then she kisses me lightly on the lips once more.
"Thank you for this, Zane."

 

She's off like a shot but is careful enough to get the

deadbolt on the way out. Since I doubt Ms. Reveal can get a fire-axe through
the door if the building catches fire, my buddies and I really are going to
experience total protonic reversal on a life-ending scale. Only now does it
occur to me that these fuzzy navels might have toxic side effects.

 

I'm waiting around for God-knows how long when I hear

some muffled noises, more muffled than having a Tribble in my ear.

 

Scratch, scratch, "Girl, you get away from that

door," Ms. Reveal shouted (I guess).

 

"Quick, Mercy, hold her back," Rio shouted in

response. "This deadbolt is a bitch."

 

A scuffle ensued and I tried to shout loud enough to call

Rio off when I heard two rapid-fire thumps.

 

"Thank you, Ms. Black," Marisol Reveal huffed.

Mercy had put up quite a fight, I guessed. "I will formally press charges
when the Vice Chancellor returns."

 

"You will go and sit your ass behind your desk, you

incompetent buffoon," Black snapped. "I will deal with this and if
you bother me again today, or mention this incident to Scarlett, I swear you
will never see your cat again; and if you don't hop-to in the next six seconds,
I'll make an audio recording of me strangling that shit-dumper and play it by
your bedroom window every night until you go mad. Do I make myself clear?"

 

"Ugh," is all I make out, but I hear Marisol's

chair squeak soon after. The sound of a body, or bodies, being drug off faded
away as Black left the office and headed down the hall. Hell, I warned Marisol.
I can't do anything for Rio right now and I don't have too long to ruminate.

 

"Marisol, are you okay?" I hear Victoria ask

her assistant. It is a testament to their bond that even the hysterical Doctor
doesn't miss her friend's distress.

 

"Sorry, Victoria, I'm a bit, umm, heart-sick is

all," Marisol murmurs. "Don't you worry about it."

 

"Well, when you want to talk about it, let me

know," Victoria stated. Marisol must have nodded because no words were
spoken and Victoria came in with two carry-on bags and three dress bags while
kicking the trash bag box ahead of her. Happy fun time was about to begin.

 

"Sorry for the wait, Zane," Victoria told me.

 

"Doctor," I made a desperate Hail Mary plea for

reason, "you are a highly respected educator. We really need to take a
step back and re-examine what's going on here."

 

"Zane, this is my first teaching job ever," she

related as she checked on the progress of her 'Trekkie' Posse.

 

"My doctorate is in Philosophy; my Master's Degrees

are in Comparative Religions and Women's Studies," she informed me.
"All my graduate work was done as a researcher. I've never had a
student." I blink dumbly at her; and here I thought my opinion of the
Board of Directors couldn't get worse.

 

Victoria goes over the language dance with her friends,

switching fluidly from tongue to tongue in a manner that impresses and even
fascinates me; and I've been to Bangkok where if you are trying to buy and/or
sell anything and don't speak at least ten different languages or dialects, you
might as well hand them your wallet or purse and go home.

"Who do we need?" Vic said in English (just

making sure everyone knows that the Tribbles aren't suddenly translating for
me).

 

"Kar'Thon," Vor' Dura states eagerly;

"This matter is a racial imperative."

 

"Are you sure the young man is old enough?" The

second woman inquired. "Jarrod went all obsessive last time a boy crossed
our path. We almost sent the kid to college."

 

"That's what you get for marrying a Ferengi,"

Dura snidely remarked, and the rest laughed along with it; meanwhile, I'm going
'a what?'

 

Some infighting goes on until Victoria and 'I married a

Ferengi' call for peace, then babble a little more. Then the name 'Zane
Braxton' comes up and I'm not sure I'm happy or sad that only one of them
replies in what was clearly elation and surprise, the sleazy one knows of me.

 

"Zane, I need to surgically remove some of the alien

organisms," Victoria tells me.

 

"It is going to sting like hell," I mutter, to

which Vor' Dura says something and sleazy girl laughs. I do not like where this
is going at all. On the bright side, Victoria doesn't rip one off of me right
away; she goes over to one of the dress bags and opens it up.

 

She's pulling out bondage gear, oops, my bad; she's

getting ready to put on Klingon body armor. I have lost all preconceptions of
what I was dealing with once Scarlett began stripping in front of me. She even
gave me an appreciative smile and I was the one who was doing the appreciating!
The little fuckers started going off. Remember, they don't like being moved and
I was moving some around at the moment.

 

No, my legs and arms were perfectly still but my crotch

was striking up a chorus, its Handel's Messiah. There was this 'still' moment
where Victoria stopped opening her blouse and the three strangers regarding me
through the webcam became mute; then the laughter began. Victoria resumed her
stripping but she couldn't stop smiling and snickering slightly.

 

The three, the Klingon uber-cook or whatever she was and

her two unknown accomplices, were laughing so hard they could barely communicate.
It got better; when I was fully aroused and stopped moving around my pants,
they didn't shut up and I was suddenly, desperately searching my mind to know
how long that song was.

 

This was because Vic got down to her, Oh, fuck, this

white thong, and calling it white is generous as it looks like someone stole an
under-achieving spider's web and gently placed it over her crotch, and I know
my hard-on was not going anywhere but into something before it went away.

 

Victoria was working her make-up on when two of the

voices got themselves together enough to ask something. Vic looked up at the
web-cam, over to me, then said a few sentences.

 

"So, which one of you likes your ankles placed

behind your ears?" I politely asked in Thai.

 

"What was that, Brax' Zane?" Victoria asked.

 

"I'm curious if I can take your virginity with my

tongue?" I continued in Thai.

 

"I cannot understand you," Victoria said again.

"What are, ah, "

 

"I think we should engage the Federation citizen in

the Galactic Basic," the second voice requested of the room. The third
voice, the sleaze, said one more then in her native tongue, then the second
voice, and Victoria jumped on her.

 

"I said, 'I think the native is getting

restless'," sleazy girl grudgingly repeated. "Now, I think we should
see if our plan 1.0 can be implemented."

 

"Before the scourges make themselves hoarse

shrilling out the hellish noise or I lose patience, transport over there, and
kill them myself," Dura growled playfully. I'm glad someone else was
having fun. Victoria walked up and took a deep breath, which caused her
well-disciplined, thirty-ish breasts to bounce tantalizingly close. Her look
was desperately fearful yet almost childlike too.

 

"Kar'Thon, I desperately require your assistance

before these creatures drive me mad," I tried to sound masculine yet
pleading. On the computer screen, Dura quickly slammed her right fist to her
right shoulder; I was later to learn that was a salute.

 

"This is no way for a Starfleet cadet to die,"

Victoria beamed at me, "even if I know I must someday slaughter you in
battle." Whoa, I've never considered NASA as a career choice.

 

Maybe Klingon bondage gear/standard uniform could change

my mind. The first person to tell me university life is boring I will punt to
the Moon.

 

"I am T'Luminareth of the Vulcan Science Academy and

Reserve member of the Starfleet Exploration Corps here," the second voice
spoke up. I caught sight of a picture of her with this, troll? Or maybe a dwarf
with the worst case of cauliflower ear ever. "I would like to assure you
that every logical effort is being put forth on your behalf."

 

"Is that right, Tight Luminescence? Is it going to

kill you to show a fellow sentient an ounce of compassion when you know he is
about to suffer a fatal toxic shock from prolonged exposure to these
vermin?" the third girl snarkily interjected into the conversation.
"I'm Hical Cretak, Romulan freebooter and purveyor of ancient, exotic, and
misunderstood goods."

 

"You are a thief, and since you aren't in some asteroid

prison, you must be an above average one," I said to the Romulan. "I
confess that I am a bit happier to see a member of the Vulcan Science Academy
since, well, I'm suffering a splintered memory. Some things make perfect sense
but large details are simply missing." I figured I could provide Victoria
some good game.

 

She began rubbing my crotch and there was an effect

alright, two in fact. The simple and expectant one was my trouser titan trying
to unchain itself so it could get revenge on all of Victoria's orifices for
taunting him so. My torturous tiny titmice began belting 'Let's get it on' by
Marvin Gaye. I think as an infant, I had a mobile playing this song in my crib.

 

I started to really admire T'Luminareth's acting ability

because she alone kept it together. Victoria made larger and larger circles
over my crotch up to my beltline while Dura and Hical lost it hysterically.

 

"Pssst," I murmured to Victoria. She looked at

me and I darted my eyes toward her makeup kit and clothes. I am getting more
clothes on her, why?

 

Besides, I'd gotten a better look at her suit and it

didn't have a butt-zipper that said 'Come Get Some,' but those pants rolled
down like a candy wrapper and that 'body armor' has a back flap. I'd have to
get Rio a set and I doubted Victoria would deny me her armorer's number. I was
definitely looking into getting Mercy a matching Orion Slave Girl outfit, and
here people don't think I make constructive use of my time.

 

I was sure Victoria/Kar'Thon was breaking speed records

to get herself ready while the other ladies began talking to me about a whole
universe that was brand new to me. Getting three different and very conflicting
versions of the rise of the Human-dominated Federation of Planets was amusing.

 

Out of the blue, T'Luminareth decided she was going to

create a team to rapidly move to my planet and take me back for further study.
Vor' Dora countered that and Hical gleefully sought out salvage rights for the
wreckage of the two expeditions.

 

"That might not be possible," I intervened.

"Some of what you've told me has fused some memories together." They
all fell silent.

 

"At Starfleet Academy, an Engineering Team and a

select group of cadets," I continued to fantasize, "were directed to
work on a, phased ionic drive." Ion drive was 'old' tech, or so Hical had
let slip. "The drive failed catastrophically and we couldn't save the
impulse drive, power was failing, we couldn't transport. The phased ionic drive
detonated in the planet's atmosphere, creating a trans-harmonic disruption. I
don't know if there were other survivors of our vessel. I saw another vessel
either investigating our explosion or attempting a rescue but they burned up on
their approach," I looked pained. "I don't think I could communicate
with them and the only survivor I could locate was Kar'Thon."

 

"Only a combination of our two vessels' technology

has been able to punch a hole through the disruption and I'm not sure how long
this effect will last." I now sounded grim but determined. "We
probably need three things: We need to know if there were any special
modifications to the Klingon Scout vessel because I don't think it was a
standard model to get so close to an experimental Federation vessel."

 

"Secondly, someone needs to pry out of Starfleet the

precise specifications of that vessel, and that's definitely not me," I
confessed. "Finally, we need to find a way to fuse those two designs
together because if Tribbles are already being affected by an increased
magnetic field, how much longer do we have before even the planet's magnetic
field collapses totally and we fry (a SciFi movie plot, thank you)."

 

Once more, there was silence and I was afraid I'd stepped

way beyond my bounds. Only when I took in the masked facial expressions of
Kar'Thon did I realize I'd done well. I was hit with the realization I was a
word and a whisper away from having sex with her, she was so pleased with me.

 

"I have friends at Starfleet Academy and they might

be able to shed a light on what their cadets were up to," T'Luminareth
stated serenely, but I could see a fire in her eyes. "I will research into
every work published on Phased Ionic Drives, and we may be forced to work on a
theory of what went wrong in case Starfleet is not forthcoming."

 

"Not that I admit that the Klingon Empire ever had

any such vessel operating in the area, Vor' Dura got out before Hical Cretak
interrupted.

 

"You have an officer on the damn planet, you

cowardly idiot," mocked Hical.

 

"I am a deserter," Kar'Thon declared. "I would

say I was a 'scum of the Orion Colonies' but I found that you already claimed
that title," she aimed at Hical.

 

"You must die, you traitorous dog," Dura jumped

on the offered plum. Thon/Victoria wasn't a deserter but she was ready to take
one for the team, so to speak. "The Klingon Empire cannot allow your stain
on our honor to exist. Now that we finally have you pinned down, we are coming
to end you once and for all, and if the Federation insists on harboring a
traitor (we were theoretically in Federation space) then,

 

"I owe you a death, Vor' Dura," Thon seethed;

"your death."

 

"You may not enter Federation space,"

T'Luminareth insisted.

 

"Before you two go to war, again, why don't you let

me go in," Hical mediated. "I'm a free trader and have been to both
Federation and Klingon planets."

 

"You are a spy," Vor' Dura growled.

 

"Being a successful agent doesn't make you any less

of spy for your Romulan Senate," T'Luminareth seemed almost furious.

 

"Unfounded rumors started by my, Hical almost finished

before the Tribbles screamed. Not as loud as they had for Ms. Black, but they
now didn't like Thon around either, now that Victoria was a Klingon. Cordelia
scares me; this time Hical had the little 'hiccup'.

 

"This is going to be fun," she chuckled, barely

above a whisper.

 

"I will get these vermin no matter how much they

hurt the frail human," Kar'Thon snarled, but Victoria's eyes blazed with
fanatic amusement. I was mildly curious if she could even respond to her true
name but decided not to test that. She pulled out a rather wicked looking knife
that I had to double-take to make sure it was plastic.

 

The conversation went on around us as fictitious bits of

data collided with innuendo, falsehoods, threats, and lies. This was
roleplaying by some actors who took it as serious as any hardcore amateur could
be. It was clear to me why Victoria chose to cut loose with these women, they
could keep up and they could keep her secret

 

With some clever knife-work (she and Valarie should

compare notes; how I start that conversation,I haven't yet figured out.) and
the trash bags, Kar'Thon liberated me from the varmints and the fuzzy
nightmares from me. Oh, they screamed and hollered and kept at it even after
the trash bags were tied shut.

 

The only thing I felt bad about was the sinking suspicion

that tens of thousands of lives could have been saved around the globe if the
Time Lord Mafia had devoted the energy that had gone into creating these
Tribbles into some frivolous pursuit like ending world hunger or reducing our
dependence on foreign fuel.

 

My skin survived the 'party' with less abuse than I had

feared. The 'team' decided that my sweat created a non-magnetic substance that
weakened the bond that held them to me. The Federation and Klingons both claimed
they would not kidnap me into some secret facility, and they all lied; my
rectum was getting probed unless I saved myself!

 

My clothes, yes, the clothes Iona picked out for me, were

made of sterner stuff and Kar'Thon delicately removed those Tribbles located
there. Truthfully, she treated my clothes as gently as any five year old treats
wrapping paper on a present on Christmas morn. Thankfully, I wasn't naked when
the time came, I had on her 'Vulcan' skirt.

 

At 11:42, Hical Cretak had finally managed to wrangle

enough help from both the Federation and Klingons and was about to pierce the
atmosphere. If Hical betrayed the Klingons, Vor' Dura and Kar'Thon agreed that
I had to die, yea, me! Apparently, my sweat was too valuable, though Dura
convinced Thon to lick my chest to make sure, at which point both the Romulans
and the Federation (in the name of science) insisted they observe a taste test
as well.

 

Without a doubt, my life is a living hell as long as we

don't talk about me fondling Thon's breasts while making those second and third
journeys from well beneath my navel (she had to push my cock aside to get
lower) all the way up to my lower lip. Seriously, working with Klingon scientists
totally explains their Superpower Galactic status. Just looking at two of them
makes me want to surrender so I can be processed and interrogated by one.

 

After some serious talking, once again in languages I

couldn't understand (though I think I know the word cadet now in Klingon,
Vulcan, and Romulan), the rest of her friends thanked me and wished me well
before signing off. Victoria remained completely silent as she raced to clean
up and change back to her 'secret identity', that of Vice Chancellor Doctor
Victoria Scarlett, mild-mannered crusader for Christian Women's Rights.

 

Right as the phone rang there was a violent pounding on

the door. You don't have to be Wormtail to know that it was Sirius Black at the
door and the gig is up. Victoria ran to the door and unlocked it while calling
out, "Coming, coming, coming," until the door opened. Gabrielle's
scowl caused the flowers to weep and the sun to dim.

 

Thankfully, she brought some witnesses so carnage was

unlikely. Cordelia, Iona, and Pandora Jaspers had come as well, with fresh
clothes, a bucket, some washcloths, two spray bottles, and a towel. Black's
advance caused Victoria to back-pedal until her ass was against her desk. The
TMI came in and shut the door behind them.

 

"That won't be necessary," Gabrielle stated

with chilling menace. "I think an adult male can wash and dress himself;
so should Zane. Everyone else, put down your stuff and exit the room." She
held up a hand to stop Victoria as the others responded without protest and
left.

 

"Scarlett," Gabrielle seethed softly, "put

on your shoes first."

 

Oh, yeah, that was embarrassing. Gabrielle studied me as

Victoria got her act together, then left me to my own devices. Since the
substance they had coated me with (it had been in the showerhead that Iona had
put me under) really worked and there were still 200 Tribbles unaccounted for,
I took ten minutes to get totally clean.

 

I then put on the clothes the TMI had provided and if it

had been dosed, then I would be totally justified with strangling them all and
they knew it. My entry into Ms. Reveal's domain was the cause of renewed
silence. Apparently, I can make girls scream out or be quiet; everything else
is beyond my control. Victoria was back to her old self, casually sexy.

 

"Zane," Gabrielle spoke it as neither

recognition nor a question, it just hung there.

 

"Ms. Black, thank you for your forbearance," I

responded. She gave a curt nod and left.

 

"Doctor Scarlett, thank you for helping me through

this," I smiled. "I will never waste your time in this manner
again."

 

"Definitely not in this 'manner'," she smiled.

The female Klingon officer vs. male Starfleet cadet confrontation would have to
be handled by a different malfeasance, but it was definitely on. She passed
into her office and the door slowly shut.

 

"Zane?" Iona spoke up.

 

"I'll figure out a way to make Rio understand,"

I told her as I went up and hugged her, much to Ms. Reveal's dismay. "Just
walk softly around her for the next few days." She nodded.

 

"So, you are not coming after the Time Lords?"

Pandora questioned.

 

"The hell you say," I smiled as we headed for

the Dining Hall. "You guys aren't my friends; I'm coming for the rest of
you. Now, you and Iona go," I demanded. "Cordelia and I need to chat."

 

With a worried backward glance, Iona left with Pandora. I

stuck my tongue out at her and she giggled because now she was sure she was
good.

 

"Are we good?" Cordelia was asking me yet

another question she already knew the answer to.

 

"We are good, Cordelia," I grinned. "I

know what you did."

 

"What was that, Zane Braxton?" Cordelia tested

me.

 

"Part of it was the Court Jester syndrome," I

regarded her smartly. "You just made me a fool in front of hundreds of
girls who fear and hate me; they were able to take an active part in my
ridicule, but this is going to rob them of the strength of that emotion to
oppose us. It is hard to feel strong negative emotions about a baby
Sasquatch," I added with a smile.

 

"I was aiming for either an Ewok with a growth spurt

or a grumpy mute Wookie," she smiled back.

 

"I wanted to be one of the twelve Albanian fishermen

that conquered China," I bantered, "but you didn't give me any
fishhooks. Albanians are hairy; right?" The look in her eyes said she knew
the Executioner series.

 

"The other part?" she teased. Most likely, she

liked hearing the sound of my voice close up.

 

"With you, making assumptions is never a good

thing," I treaded carefully. "My gut says that Victoria is safe but I
want to make sure that what happened in her office this morning stays among a
highly selected few and Victoria is never confronted with this."

 

"You know she is safe, for blackmail was never my

plan; I'm sneakier than that, Zane; you are my weapon to hinder and help as
needed. You are going to make an incredible genetic contributor," she put
her arm in mine.

 

"You've been talking to Paige too much," I

warned her.

 

"No; Paige has been listening to my, advice,"

she winked.

 

"I am still going to win," I asserted.

 

"I know you will," Cordelia hugged my arm

tighter. "I'll make sure of it."

 

Since she planned to hand me a hollow victory I wouldn't

accept, what she really was planning was for round three to be even more fun.

 

"You owe me," I stated. "Five days of your

choice, no panties; you don't need to tell me what days." She nodded.
She'll give me these little victories.

 

"Thank you, Zane," she whispered.

 

"For giving you the win, the challenge, and not

making you out to be the villain?" I asked.

 

"You keep it fun, Zane. I think only you understand

how lonely it is to be me," Cordelia looked up at me once more.

 

"That's bull crap," I chuckle. "I would

never leave a friend behind." And we are friends, which is so weird yet
makes total sense.

Motorcycles, Money and Felicity Tolliver.
 The gang gets motorcycles

Rio, of course, heads to the biggest, meanest hog on the

lot. The Big Ole Boy/Dealership owner, who has the makings of an aged outlaw
biker himself, walks over to Rio.

"Why don't we look for something more your speed little

lady," he grins with tobacco stained teeth.

"Do you keep your balls in a baggie around your neck or

does your old lady keep them in a box at home for you?" Rio glares
malevolently. "After all, you clearly don't use them in the aggressive art
of sales." Before the guy can take actions to avenge the insult Valerie
steps up.

"What he's trying to tell you, Rio, is that you pick a

ride you can push off on your own, or lift to a standing position,"
Valerie explains.

"I've never had that bad a spill but my Mom did. Before

I was born she was out riding around, slipped off the road and crashed. She
broke her leg pretty badly and she was alone. The thing was she could, and did,
right her ride and get to a gas station fifteen miles away because she had a
bike she could handle, not necessary the one she wanted because it looked
cool," Valerie tells us all; an individual lesson aimed at Rio would be
taken the wrong way by her - guaranteed.

"Fine, fine," Rio griped, "But if he shows me

a pink motorcycle with tassels on the handlebars I'm going to burn this place
to the ground."

"I sell Harley Davidsons, not tribute rides to the

Power Puff Girls," he growls. Seeing our somewhat stunned looks the dealer
takes a deep breath, "I have daughters, damn it."

After that things proceed much more smoothly. I sort of wish

my ride is as macho as Valerie's well-seasoned HD Fatboy but she'd been riding
since she was twelve and lived off her bike since she was fifteen. I'd driven a
scooter twice in Thailand but I opted to not have the other bikers mock me by
informing them of this fact.

"Did your Mom's leg heal properly?" I inquire as

the buying goes along.

"What are you talking about, oh, Zane, my Mom rides

bikes the way the Comanche ride horses," Valerie gives me a secret grin.
"As far as I know she's never spilled a bike or even knocked one over in
her life. I made that up for Rio's sake."

"Thank you for that Valarie. Well, at least the dealer

dissuaded her of the 'my bitch rides in the sidecar' scheme," I sigh.

"I did it for you both, Zane. I like the pint-sized

hormonal psycho," Valarie grins. "Besides, once he informed her that
mounting a machinegun on it would no longer make it no longer 'street legal'
she soured on the whole idea, but I'm starting to think the old bastard is taking
a shine to her."

"Of course it has nothing to do with him showing her

the kickstand assembly and her bending over while scratching her ass,"
Barbie Lynn snuck up on us. "I should warn her and Mercy that when that
they've triple-rolled their skirt's waistbands up and forgotten to roll them
back down. Maybe not," she sucks on the tip of her finger and gives me a
wink, "it isn't like you can see their underwear when they are standing up
- barely."

Barbie Lynn is a mixed blessing. Yes, we get serviced super-quick

but the mechanics nearly had a brawl trying to get to her first. Belle had to
invoke her mystic bad-ass-ness by taking off her sunglasses and looking at
them. They know who she is, and how many dorks she's put in the hospital and
this stops them faster than a Police Academy ring at a drug buy (Belle gave me
that one because it happened to her).

Speaking of which, Willa, unbidden, has decided to hover

close to Iona because my little Brainiac still hasn't completely become used to
the concept that the world can be a very dangerous place. Some unknown biker,
not associated with the dealership, tried to get Iona into the office in the
back of the showroom to talk about 'warranty plans'. Willa glided up on him and
asked if their tool replacement policy covered a ratchet wrench shoved up his
ass. He took a bathroom break and was not seen again. I was keeping an eye out,
but I still owe her.

I don't have any of those problems. I am not only the guy, I

am the Dude. I am the Dude who has multiple partnerships with different babes
every night. I try to explain that these are merely snippets of my life and
that I do a variety of other things, none of which holds the slightest interest
for them.

"Dude! You can still walk after that much sexy? You are

the Man!" is the general response to their recognition of me, except for
the dealer who I caught trying to hide a picture of his daughters; two seem to
be very hot and the right age, what the hell am I thinking!?

"Oh Zane," Paige scrambles up to me. "They

have leather halter tops and micro-miniskirts here; can you get some for
me?"

"You have to promise to model them," I demand.

Paige puts her hands on her hips, spreads her legs and gives me a deadly
serious look.

"You are treating me like a sex object," she

accuses me. I reach out and stroke the side of her head, from the tip of her
chin to her right ear.

"Yes," I murmur, "Yes I am."

"Well, if that's the only way I'm can get them,"

she huffs, rolls her eyes, and skips away. The second she is out of sight,
Valarie smacks me on the back of the head. I turn to protest to Valarie and
Belle smacks me on the same spot. I spin away so I can keep an eye on both of
the biker chicks.

"Oh, come on," I protest. "That's just a game

we play. I really do respect her, ya know?"

"Oh, we know you respect her," Valarie nods

sagely.

"It's because you are drawing yet another psycho into

your orbit, you moron," Belle adds with a smile.

"Oh come on, she's not that bad," I defend the

albino, psycho.

"Zane, she's nuts about you, but not in the 'she does

your laundry without asking' way but in the 'drugs you and chains you to a bed
while forcing you read her a love story of your own creation' bat-shit crazy
way," Valarie explains.

"That would never happen," I shake my head. Belle

hits me again. I'm half-way to blocking her when I realize the futility of the
gesture, I can't hold off both Val and Belle for very long so I might as well
get this over with.

"It is the plot of Misery by Stephen King," Belle

sneers. [Author's note: this is a gross over-simplification, I know]

"Wasn't he that the guy who hated animals and kept

killing them off in creative ways?" I asked, "Oh, and that naked hot
chick in the bathtub who becomes that wrinkly dead lady," I shudder.
"Oh, and that huge book that can kill a Madagascar Hissing cockroach in
one drop!" They are both about to beat the crap out of me.

"Fine," I fall back, trying to ward both off their

blows. "I know who Stephen King is so you can stop hitting me, the books
were The Shining and The Stand." Smack! The dealer puts his open hand
forcefully to the back of my head.

"That's for making fun of Stephen King in my

place," he growls. "The man does some wicked writing. I read
"It" to my girls as a bedtime story." This dude is pretty messed
up. Smack!

"Rio," I howled, "what was that for?"

"Everyone else was doing it and it looked fun,"

Rio beams at me. Smack!

"Mercy! You too?" I plead. The look on her face

says it all, 'I thought I could get away with it.'

"Now where were we? Ah, you are going to regret

bringing that one along," Belle teases me.

"Really," since I know jack about biker culture.

"Oh yeah," Valarie pointed out. "These macho

he-men really don't like waking up drunk in bed, handcuffed and used like a
sexual aid, not a person."

"Paige coming at them with a branding iron won't help

the situation one bit," Belle nods.

"Oh, are we ganging up on Paige," Rio sings out.

"I want in."

"PLP's three and four," Belle says under her

breath. She must mean Chastity and Hope and I'm pretty sure they won't
appreciate the descriptors. PLP stands for Pretty Little Princess's and I've
heard Valarie use it a time or two, but not in their hearing.

"Hey Zane," Chastity calls out. "How is the

expedition coming along?"

I am dealing with the surprise of these two's arrival when

Valarie and Belle push pass me. Valarie hugs Chastity and Belle barely misses
colliding with Hope when, at the last second, Belle realizes that Hope isn't
the 'exhibits camaraderie' type.

"Hey Hope and Chastity," Valarie begins, "thanks

for showing up." If this is an 'ambush' it is going to be a bloodbath.

"OCS doesn't start until November of next year so I'll

have the time," Hope nods. "Thank you for the invitation."

"The same here," Chastity shakes hands with Belle.

"My law school doesn't start until the first week in September and a last,
wild fling will do us good; our first wild fling being over Spring Break of
course."

"Belle's doing Spring Break with us too," Rio

announces. By Belle's tilt of the head and lowering of the sunglasses while
glaring at Rio, this is news to Belle as well as the rest of us. "She is
older than Zane, so she can buy beer; she is more mature than Zane so we can
find him if we lose him in a bar crawl, and she's has a predilection for
beating up Sorority Chicks in case they enslave Zane too long."

That is a double whammy, inviting Belle and having three

excellent reasons for her to come; who would have thought Rio capable of that?

"That works for me," Iona agrees as she and Paige

return reading through some Owner's Manuals.

"A show of hands for Hope and Chastity," Valarie

requests, "just so we can pretend to be democratic." There are no
opposing votes, though Paige is hesitant as she sneaks a glance at Hope.

I am reminded that this is really the Valarie and Iona show

and I am along for the ride, and my checkbook. I have to wrap my mind around
the dynamics of the group, now clan, that is assembling. I suddenly feel like
I'm in the Wild Ones but I'm Gringo, not Johnny or Chino; whatever that means,
I've never actually seen the movie, but Belle says that's my role.

Iona shows me a price tag and I am hammered by my lack of

education where motorcycles are concerned, namely I thought they cost about
2000 dollars, not 20,000 (though why Rio wants a Lighthouse Fog Horn on her is
beyond me). Also, what do they make HD clothing out of anyway; virgin Manitoba
flying reindeer? I could buy Paige (mainly) these clothes or I could put Paige
through college for the next two years.

I call Uncle Josh. We talk for about 45 minutes. I don't

string him along; in the second minute of the conversation I tell him what's
going on and then I have to create an argument for what I'm doing with my
money. It isn't 'my' my money in my mind. I'm eighteen and I know it. If I have
any doubt that I'm going to make bad decisions at this age all I have to do is
rub the tender spots on the back of my head.

What I have to prove to Josh is that this is not my cock

talking, but my heart as well as my mind. In forty-five minutes he agrees and
tells me the credit card charge will be paid, end of story. I've tacked on
20,000  dollars (what, I'm insanely rich if you haven't figured this out
yet) for Rio's ring that she's giving to Mercy. She is my best friend after all
and I want her to have options. I'm not going to tell her the budget, that
would be fiscally irresponsible.

The dealer is going to take most of our bikes, plus Belle's

and Valarie's old bikes, back to my place (did you really think those two were
helping us for free? Sure they like me but this is a Golden Opportunity they
can't pass up). Valarie will be taking her new ride back to school. Belle makes
a phone call to a detailing place and starts lining up some appointments for
the whole gang.

Valarie does one better. She calls her Mom and drops the

bomb on what a sweet new ride she's 'obtained'. You would swear they were
Beverly Hills debutantes talking about the latest fashions at Vera Wang; I've
never heard Valarie gush about anything with anybody before. She slips into the
conversation that she's left her dorm room and moved into a guy's room with
five other girls.

If I was taking a drink, I would be choking now. I wonder if

when Damien Palmer breaks out prison he collides with Yeong Song and the two
kill each other on the way to eviscerate me. I love their daughters but I want
to live, ya know? Unfortunately, I want to be with beautiful women more than
I'll accept living in fear. Valarie's Mom is totally cool with Valarie's
decision and can't wait to meet me at Homecoming.

I guess I'm used to Prickly Christian Moms, not Cool Moms

who may or may not be Christian but don't make a big deal about it if they are.
We all head out for a bite to eat because the FFU group has missed dinner. The
regular crowd at the Red Lobster doesn't know what to make of us and I doubt
any of our group cares.

Felicity

As we roll into the parking lot after dinner, I see Felicity

Tolliver disembarking from her own little two-door coupe with a canvas bag full
of books. She looks our way and smiles. Rio and Barbie Lynn depart my car like
Spider Monkeys scenting fresh fruit. I'm left explaining things to Mercy. Those
two have whisked Felicity to our dorm and most likely my room as I keep one
hand on Mercy and make my good-byes to Hope and Chastity.

On the elevator ride up, I explain the dynamic between Rio,

Barbie Lynn and Felicity. Iona does her level best to reassure Mercy while
Valarie poises prepares for any rash actions on Mercy's part. Paige looks
secretly amused but is sharp enough to not antagonize Mercy right now. We might
just let Mercy beat her up and she can't outrun her when we're stuck in an
elevator.

When we get upstairs to my floor it turns out Rio and Barbie

Lynn are being very polite and showing her Felicity all the features of the
place. Felicity seems a bit overwhelmed and gravitates toward me when I make my
appearance. I don't waste a moment of time.

"Hey Felicity," I say as she hugs me in an

overly-familiar style never shown before. I see it more as someone grabbing an
anchor rather than sexual attraction.

"Hello Zane," Felicity sighs, her tension draining

somewhat. This is not the school she remembers after all. "You and the
ladies have done such great things."

"These are the same juniors, sophomores and freshmen

you were at school with last year," I remind her. She nods her
understanding. "Felicity, this is Mercy Chaplain," I introduce the
woman on my arm, "she is Rio's girlfriend."

It takes a moment to sink in. Rio's look sent my way is

conflicted. I'm ruining her game, but I'm doing my job as both hers and Mercy's
friend and she refuses to begrudge me that. Felicity finally nods then steps up
and hugs Mercy to her. "Well, I hope we become fast friends then,"
she states as she places her hands on Mercy's upper arms and give flashes a
million watt smile.

To be continued in part 28, By FinalStand for Literotica.

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