Chapter 3

"I never in a million years thought this was going to work," Heather whispered.

The two of us were lying in the middle of the floor, covered in blankets, while the rest of the girls were asleep around us.

"Really? Why not?" I whispered back. "I mean, eight horny girls seduce a man. What could go wrong? Of course, saying it out loud like that..."

"I know! The whole idea is just crazy. There are too many things that could have gotten screwed up. It's some kind of miracle that you're still here and we're all still here, and that two of us are probably pregnant."

"I wish it hadn't worked out," I said, shaking my head. "I ... I can't believe what I've done here. I mean, I've gotten two of you knocked up - all because I can't control myself."

"We didn't give you much of a chance," Heather giggled.

"Please, don't remind me. If only I had more self control! If only..."

"Why is that, exactly?" Heather whispered. "Why did you react that way?"

"What do you mean? I'm a man ... you all are beautiful girls. What's not to understand?"

"I don't think it works that way, I really don't. There's something different about you."

"What do you mean?

"Janice and Stacy have already tried this with another man, did you know that?"

"What??"

"I know, crazy, right? I think it was some old friend of Janice's mom. The two of them invited him downstairs, and they basically tried the same things we did to you. Only it didn't work."

"Didn't work?"

"As soon as he heard that they were unprotected, he lost his erection, and nothing they did would restore it. I mean, he was seriously freaked out. As soon as he could, he raced out of there. I think he actually spent the night in a hotel."

"Hmmm."

"Exactly. So what's different about you? You weren't freaked out at all. You actually seemed to... want it."

"No, I didn't," I said, firmly.

"Yeah, I know. I mean, of course you didn't want it, as in want it want it. Not in your head, anyway. But you never lost your erection. Quite the opposite, as far as I could tell! Something tells me that you actually get turned on by having unprotected sex with teenagers."

It was a good thing it was so dark, otherwise I'm sure that Heather would have seen my face blush bright red.

"But exactly why is it that you're a part of this, anyway?" I asked. "You never answer that."

"Don't change the subject," Heather said."Mr. Michaels, I'm serious. What is it deep inside of you that wants to be here?"

I sighed. "I don't know ... unless..."

"What?"

"Okay, when I was in high school, I dated a wonderful girl, her name was Faith, and she was Catholic and she wanted a huge family, like, eight children. Of course, I was more protestant-slash-agnostic and I was an only child, so her whole world was this incredible fascination for me. I loved being a part of their family gatherings and everyone just assumed that we would end up together. She was my high school sweetheart."

"So what happened?"

"Oh, it's all confused. First, I fell in love with geology, and I knew that all of the plum geology studies were in these faraway places - you know, like Greenland. It was a wild time, for geologists, plate tectonics was still a pretty new thing and people were running all over the world doing magnetic imaging studies and mapping the plates. It was amazing, really."

"Uh ... back to the story?" Heather prompted.

"Right. Anyway ... Faith wanted to settle down and start a family, and ... well ... in a moment of stupidity, really, I said that it might be better if we split up. I ... I guess I wasn't ready."

"Ah. I see."

"Right, it was my opportunity to have a big family and loads of children, and I let it slip me by for what I thought was going to be my career. Well, to make a long story short, my career in geology never amounted to much, I ended up as a geology teacher for a public high school - not that I don't regret that decision at all! I love teaching - but then I married a woman who refused to have children."

"But ... you're not married, right?"

"Divorced. But that was fifteen years of my life down the drain. And now, here I am, in this small town, and nobody I know wants to get married and have children, or at least not with someone like me. I looked into becoming a sperm donor, but I was just beyond the age limit, and after a few really, truly awful dates, I just realized that I was trying too hard, and so I began to think that maybe it's just not meant to be."

"But Mr. Michaels! I mean, you're such a cool guy! How could you think that."

"I don't know. I guess I just I began to feel like my life had taken a wrong turn. My regret for leaving Faith is ... is crushing at times. And yes, I began dreaming about being married to a fertile young wife and making her pregnant, and having a bevy of kids running round calling me 'Dad.' But now, recently, it seems like the dream is slipping away as I get older, and the thought just makes me so ... uh, sad..."

Suddenly, Heather was pressing against me, her warm, wet mouth seeking mine out and pulling me into a deep, deep kiss. Surprised, I could do nothing but kiss her back (especially since, as I had lost the bet, I was required to). Tentatively, her tongue probed into my mouth, and I hers, and we lay there for a while, hugging and French kissing.

"Wow," she said, pulling back finally, "Zoe was right."

"Right about what?"

"That thanks to you she now knows the difference between a boy and a man."

"Oh," I stammered. "I don't think..."

"We should try and get some sleep. I'm sure it will be a long day for you tomorrow."

"Wait, Heather. You never told me why it is that you wanted to be a member of the pregnancy club."

"Good night, Mr. Michaels," Heather said, turning away from me.

"Heather?" I called out after her.

But all I could hear was the deep breathing of the girls.

Before we went to bed, Janice had declared a 16 hour moratorium on sex. "To give our stud a chance to reload," she said, winking at me.

That first morning, waking up, was the most disorienting. The entire room was, essentially, one big bed, and to wake up with 8 young women in nightgowns is, to say the least, a strange - if wonderful - experience. It took me a while to remember what had happened the night before, and to convince myself that all of this was really happening.

High on one wall of the basement were some small windows - too small to crawl out of, unfortunately - but enough to let some of the morning sun filter in.

Zoe and Stacy were snuggled up right against me, Zoe's head using my arm for a pillow, and Stacy's arm draped across my stomach.

Carefully untangling myself from their bodies and getting up, I became acutely conscious of my naked body, but a quick scan of the room turned up nothing, so I wrapped myself in a blanket and wandered into the kitchen.

"Where are my clothes?" I asked Janice, who was busy making coffee.

"Oh those?" Janice giggled. "We sent them up the dumbwaiter last night."

"But..." I sputtered, "what will I wear?"

"Oh, wait! I do have something," Janice left the kitchen returning a moment later with an expensive-looking bathrobe. "My Mom got it from the spa she goes to."

I felt a pair of arms encircle my neck.

"Good morning, handsome," Zoe said, from behind. "I need a 'good morning kiss'."

I turned around. "I don't know, Zoe..."

"You have to!" she stated, confidently. "You lost the bet. You have to!"

I sighed. "Okay."

With a little squeal of delight, Zoe drew me into a deep, wet kiss.

"Now, that's just the best way to start the day," she said, dreamily.

"My turn!"

I looked up to see Stacy, patiently waiting in line.

Stacy's kiss was more urgent and demanding than Zoe's, but ended with the same satisfied sigh.

I looked around expecting everyone to be lining up for kisses, but it seemed that there was an unspoken agreement that only those who had had sex with me were entitled to 'good morning' kisses.

The rest of the day was oddly normal. No one wanted to discuss what had happened the night before, least of all me, and so we chatted and talked just as if we were all on some indoor camping trip - making breakfast, getting showers, etc. Some of the girls exercised, others watched TV, and I found some time to pull out my laptop and work on my dissertation - now five years overdue. Everyone except me was dressed in "normal" clothes - jeans, T-shirts, short skirts, etc.

"We don't trust you in 'normal' clothes yet," Pamela told me. "Maybe someday."

And so, I was forced to wear a bathrobe the whole time.

Surreptitiously, I looked around for a means of escape. Since it was a basement, we were, essentially, in a big cement box underground. So, going through the walls was out of the question.

I looked for wireless internet on my laptop. Nothing.

"We already checked that out," Heather said, looking over my shoulder. "The closest wireless is four houses away."

I explored to the top of the stairs, seemingly my most likely method of egress, but the steel door, in the light of day, was even more impenetrable, and the hinges and frame looked unassailable. A couple of tests trying to run against it using my shoulder as a battering ram made it clear that my shoulder would break well before the door did.

"We had the door installed professionally," Janice said, as I came back down the stairs, holding my bruised shoulder. "He doubly reinforced the frame at our request."

"You got your money's worth," I said dryly.

Janice just smiled.

"Where's your father, Janice?" I asked.

"Oh, my parents are divorced. It's a long story, I'll tell it to you someday."

I went over to look at the windows, very small and high on the wall.

"We talked a lot about the windows," Stacy said, trailing behind me. I took a second look at Stacy. She had a hand on her tummy. "My god, ' I realized.' She's already behaving as if she's pregnant.'

"We thought about covering the windows," Stacy continued, "but obviously they are too small to crawl out of. And, of course, they are required by code."

"Code?" I asked. "This basement is built to code?"

"Why, of course," Janice said. "How else would we get professionals to do the work?"

"But that means," I walked quickly around the basement while the girls looked on, amused.

Finally, I found it in the exercise room. The second egress required for finished basements. Unfortunately, it was a double-padlocked, steel bulkhead door.

I walked back into the main room. "I don't suppose you know where the keys are to the bulkhead door?" I asked.

"Of course we know," said Janice.

"In the safe?" I asked.

"You're so smart!" she replied.

"Anyway," Stacy continued, "we talked a lot about the windows. After all, you could break them and start shouting for help and maybe someone would hear you."

"But then they would most likely call the police," I said, following the line of thinking to its logical conclusion.

"Exactly."

I thought long and hard about that option. What if I had yelled for help? What if the police did come?

Certainly news of my entrapment would get out. A man trapped in a basement and having sex with eight teenage girls? Hell, it would be all over town. The media frenzy would be intense, I was sure of it. Our lives would all be ruined.

At exactly 5 in the afternoon, I heard a timer go off in the kitchen.

"Time for sex!" Janice announced, eagerly.

"Sounds good," I said, trying to sound reasonable. "But hey, I just need to head home for a minute to feed the dog. After that, I promise I'll be right back."

"Mr. Michaels," Jane said, "I didn't know you had a dog! I love dogs! In fact, the only thing that sucks about being here with you is how much I'm missing Cooper, my Labrador retriever. How long have you had yours?"

"Oh, just over a month now."

"What kind?" she asked.

"Uh ... a collie."

"Oh! Like Rin Tin Tin?"

"Yes!" I said. "Just like Rin Tin Tin."

"And where did you get him?"

"From the pound."

"Which one, the one on Peach Street?"

Suddenly I had the queasy sense that I was getting in over my head. "No, the other one, ah ... on South University Boulevard."

"You don't mean the animal hospital, do you?"

"Right, the animal hospital."

"I didn't think they had strays. They usually leave that to the ASPCA. Must of been some special event, I guess. So, what did you pay for his license?"

"Oh, ah, just 15 dollars."

The girls were all rolling their eyes.

"What?" I asked. "It's true!"

Jane walked up and gave me a peck on the cheek.

"Mr. Michaels," she said. "You are such a bad liar. First, Rin Tin Tin is a German Sheppard, not a collie. Second, there is no animal hospital on South University. Third, the dog license fee is only 5 bucks. Now tell the truth, you don't have a dog, do you?"

My shoulders slumped. "No, I don't," I said. "But you can't blame a guy for trying."

"No you can't," Jane said. "And we would be disappointed in you if you didn't at least try, but you're going to have to be a lot more creative than that to outsmart this bunch."

"Enough chit-chat," Janice clapped her hands. "We have a new game to play."

"Oh god," I moaned.

"No, no," Kristen said, "you're going to like this one. It was my idea!"

"I'm not going to play."

"That's not very fair. Would you like to hear it first, before dismissing it?"

I looked around the room. Jane and Pamela were lying in each other's arms, watching with interest. Janice and Heather were sitting on the couch, looking cocky and confident. Zoe, Stacy, and Eve were on the floor, sitting next to me, and Kristen was standing in the middle of the room.

"Good! It's a 'finders-keepers' game. We are going to go into the closet and get changed. During the process, we'll hide a piece of paper with one of the digits to the safe combination on one of our bodies."

"It's my digit!" Stacy announced, pleased.

"Now, you already have Zoe's digit," Kristen continued.

"It's seven," Zoe said, smiling. "Remember?"

"I remember."

"And then you'll have to find it before time expires," Kristen continued.

"How long will I have?"

"Thirty minutes. That's like, forever!"

I did a mental calculation. 30 divided by 8 was ... not quite 4 minutes per girl. To find a single digit of the combination.

"And so then you'll have a full 25% of the digits. But think on this, how many digits do you really need? After all, if you had 7 of 8 digits, that's only ten different combinations. How many combinations can you try? A hundred? A thousand? So really, you probably only need 5 digits..."

" ... and the order of the digits, which only I know," Janice chimed in.

"Exactly," Kristen continued. "So, getting just one more digit makes an enormous difference, don't you see?"

"It increases your chances of getting out by 10 fold," Heather said, softly, "by reducing the possible search space."

"Okay, okay," I said. "I get it. All I have to do is find Stacy's digit hidden somewhere on the person of one of you girls, and if I do, I get to keep the digit."

"Exactly."

"What happens if I lose?"

"Well, if you lose, then we would get what we want," Kristen said, her eyes glinting.

"And that would be... ?"

"We want the cooperative participation of your hands," Kristen finished, grinning.

"What? The 'cooperative participation of my hands'? What the heck does that mean?"

"Well, we already have the cooperative participation of your lips," Kristen said, running her finger lightly over my lips before leaning in giving me a deep, warm kiss.

"Oh, Zoe," Kristen said, "I see what you mean."

"I know, it's so true, isn't it?" Zoe replied.

"And now we want the cooperative participation of your hands. That means, hugging, stroking, and foreplay with your hands ... whatever you might normally do with a woman who is your romantic partner. You must do this cooperatively, without prompting, and further, you must also agree to any special request that any girl has for your hands. That's what we mean by 'cooperative participation'. I came up with the phrase myself."

I took a look at my hands. What were they really worth? I didn't want to escalate the situation any further if I could help it. These were girls, after all, and my students. I knew that every time I gave in, my position as a role model became weaker. Besides being illegal (probably, it was certainly highly unethical and dangerous under any circumstance. No way did I want to reward that behavior.

"Thanks, girls, but I don't think this is worth a digit for me. I'm not playing."

"How about two digits?" Heather asked, softly.

"Heather!" Janice said, sharply. "That's too much! He'll have three of eight! He'll only need two more to escape."

"And the order, right? I don't think it's too much. How about we put it to a vote?"

Janice hemmed and hawed for a second. "Alright," she said. "Let's vote. Everyone in favor?"

Kristen, Zoe, Stacy, and Eve all raised their hands. After another minute, Jane joined them.

"Jane!" Pamela said. "But what if he somehow finds a way to escape before we're pregnant?"

"It'll be okay, Pammy," she replied. "I trust Mr. Michaels." She looked me in the eye. "I don't know why, but I do."

Pamela looked at Janice. "What do you think, Janice?"

Janice sighed. "Okay, fine."

Both Janice and Pamela raised their hands, followed by Heather.

"Okay, it's unanimous," said Janice. "Do you agree to play the game for two digits?"

"Will both digits be hidden in different places?"

"Kristen?" Janice prompted. "It's your game."

"Sure!" said Kristen, enthusiastically. "And you get to keep the digits that you find. But you have to find both of them, or we get the 'cooperative participation' of your hands. And you have to absolutely promise! No being shy with your hands. We want them on our bodies and we'll want them everywhere and they better be actively participating!"

Eve was pressing a fist to her crotch. "Oh, yes..." she said, closing her eyes tight, " ... can't wait for that!"

I looked around, gauging my chances for winning the game. Of course, even playing the game meant putting my hands all over their bodies to search for the papers with the digits on them - such was the evil genius of Kristen's concept.

"Alright," I said, "I agree."

"Yes!" said Kristen, pumping her fist. "Oh, this is going to be so much fun."

About thirty minutes later, the girls all came out of the closet, grinning and laughing.

"Hey!" I said, shocked. "No fair!"

All of the girls were dressed in multiple layers, including pants plus skirts, plus dresses, plus shorts!

"Hey, we never said we'd make it easy for you," Kristen reasoned. "Eve, do you have the clock?"

"Ready!" called out Eve.

"Go!" Kristen said, giggling.

Starting with Kristen, that minx, I quickly began undressing her as fast as I could, while the other girls looked on, laughing hysterically. First her light jacket (checked all of the pockets), then a sweater, then a jumper (which briefly got stuck in her hair), then her jeans (harder to remove than I expected), dance tights, and blouse, and T-shirt.

"Damn!" I muttered, as I revealed her leotard.

"Five minutes, Mr. Michaels," Eve announced.

Oh my god, I thought. Five minutes gone already?

I quickly patted her down, and finding nothing obvious, I moved on to Janice.

"But Mr. Michaels," Kristen said, batting her eyes. "You missed the most obvious spot! I'm sure if you looked, you'll find something there for you."

I looked over at Kristen, frozen for a second trying to figure out what to do. Kristen thrust her chest out at me and shook her bosoms back and forth.

"Oh god," I muttered, going back to her. Pulling open her leotard, I looked inside to see that she was wearing not one, but two bras.

"Go ahead, Mr. Michaels," she said, grinning widely, while the other girls laughed.

With a deep breath, I dove my hand into her cleavage. First feeling around the outer bra, and then moving inside the inner one.

"Oh! Oh! OH!" She gasped as I searched.

Finally, there it was! A piece of paper! I quickly snagged it and pulled it out. Triumphantly, I opened it...

... only to reveal an 'X' instead of a number.

"What... ?" I asked, looking around while the girls were pealing with laughter.

"It's..." Janice said between gasps, "it's a decoy! We planted 16 decoys!"

"No you didn't!" I said, aghast.

"Yes, we did!" Pamela said, in hysterics.

"Fuck!" I cursed, moving on to Janice. "This is so not fair! Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

"Eight minutes," said Eve, clearly delighted.

After five more minutes, I found two more decoys on Janice, one in the very foot of her pantyhose, and another one in her bra, just like Kristen.

Fifteen minutes later, I had done a cursory check of all girls, and had mostly undressed three more, finding eight more decoys, but none of the digits.

"Twenty-eight minutes," said Eve. "Just two more to go!"

By this time, I was getting used to the idea that it was all a lost cause, and that I would be forced to use my hands for cooperative participation for the duration of my stay. The girls were still laughing (especially when I searched Eve, who was incredibly ticklish), and, blushing and embarrassed, I had started to join in.

"Only two minutes left," Janice called out. "Shall we give the poor man a hint?"