"You are not going to believe this," Barbie said with a smile. "My stupid-assed sister's husband ran off with his nurse, and she went just plain loco and decided to fuck the Marine Corps. So she sent me her kid while she started with a couple of lieutenants."

I watched the luscious woman I had just spent a half-hour serving with great pleasure struggle to pull her short teddie over her mob of blonde hair and wiggle it down her unbelievable body, her big breasts still showing signs of my attentions and streaks of my spend on the inside of her thighs. My cock, tired and sore from at least thirty minutes of steady humping, quivered and trembled.

"Angela," Barbie yelled, "get in here. I know you've been out there listening."

The bedroom door opened and in came a lanky teen-ager wearing a sullen look, a tiny crop-top that displayed the underside of her substantial but conical boobs, a bare and slim middle and a pair of ratty jeans' shorts that hung below her belly button and were very tight in the crotch. She was long-legged, taut-waisted, narrow-hipped and about six-feet tall, just my size. My cock tingled despite her nasty look and her ridiculous hair that was painted with red and orange stripes over shiny black spikes or the extra-heavy eye makeup which made her look ghoulish. The only thing missing were vampire teeth. Her lipstick was black too. Gaga strikes again I guess.

"This is Billy," Barbie said with a smile. "He is very, very good at what he does, one of the best. I want you to do whatever he asks you. He lives around here so he knows what girls wear and how they act. Listen to him or, Miss Smarty-mouth, you will be grounded forever. Got it? You will live in the basement with the bugs and an AM radio and a crossword puzzle book."

The girl blinked at me and nodded.

"Say, yes'm, or yes, Aunt Barbie," Barbie demanded through clenched teeth. When she got angry, you did not want to be around her. Barbie was 25, on her fourth husband and had a couple of studs, not counting me, warming up in the bullpen, well-heeled and eager-to-wed ones. Number four was looking very haggard these days, fucked out, destined for the discard pile from which there was no escape. The first three had all died rather violently.

"Take her out, get her cleaned up so we can see what we've got, buy her some decent clothes and show her around. Get her back here by six. OK?" She gave me a wad of fifty-dollar bills.

"Yes'm," I said with a smile, and I took the girl's hand and hurried her down the stairs and out to my car. "Buckle up," I said, thinking what I should do first, which was probably bonk her. But she smelled almost as bad as she looked.

I took her to the only full-scale spa in town, ignored her whining, hustled her inside and told the lady at the desk, "Give her the works, especially the hair. Take care of her nails, shave her pubic hair and underarms if she needs it, to bikini at least, and then give her a good, shingled hair cut, pixie maybe, Hepburn. How long?"

"Give us a couple of hours at least, make it three," she said with a smile. "What's her name?"

"Angela," I said and then to the girl, "be cooperative and you will be rewarded, I promise. Be a pain in the ass, and you'll be sorry."

I went off and did some Saturday chores, bought her some underpants, size small, and a flowered sundress, size small, and came back after lunch. I guessed the sizes, figuring she was between zero and two, and was right on the nail. We threw away the rest of her dirty clothes, except for the belt on her shorts, and her toe-sandals, and she put on what I gave her which fit reasonably well. She was an ash blonde and wearing very light pink lipstick and a tiny bit of blue eye shadow, she looked good enough to eat, something I planned to do as soon as possible. My cock shuddered in anticipation.

I paid $275 for her bath, haircut and such and felt it was well worth the price, tipped three girls $20 each, and then I took her to lunch at the college hamburger joint. We got cheeseburgers and Cokes and sat by a window. I smiled at her. "How do you feel?" I asked between bites. "You look really good."

She chewed, sniffed, scrunched up her pretty face, and said, "Like a prize pig at the fair." Her nipples made points in her silken sundress, obviously suckables, nice handfuls even if immature.

"You win the blue ribbon," I said. "What grade are you in, I mean next year, what grade will you be going into?"

"Eighth, I suppose."

I choked and sputtered. "How old are you anyhow?"

"Thirteen in two weeks," she said.

"You want to explain that slut business, those clothes, that look, your aunt's anger?"

She took another bite and shook her head.

"Did you go to school looking like that, that make-up and all, that tiny top with your dugs hanging out?"

She nodded and did not look up.

"Did they throw you out?"

She nodded and held up two fingers, cocked her head, and made it three fingers.

"You got thrown out of three middle schools, junior highs?"

"It's all they had. They put me on home schooling before Easter, the spring break. I had only made two teachers actually, just quickies, the rest were kids and one custodian." She grinned and licked her lips.

"Just for that and the way you dress?"

She shook her head, chewed, looked up and smiled and said, "BJ's, lots and lots of BJs."

"Blowjobs," I said, louder than I meant to. A couple of people looked up so we finished and left. In the car I said, "Tell me about it, about the kind of trouble you had at these schools."