Chapter 6: New Developments

That night, I had a strange dream. In it, I was sitting on the couch late at night, watching TV. I heard a noise upstairs, like something pounding. I looked around for my baseball bat, and could only find a tiny one I'd received during "Bat Day" at a Phillies game once. Stupidly believing that it would protect me, I ventured up the stairs. The noise grew louder, and I promptly realized it was coming from behind my parents' door. Dreading what I would see -- my parents having sex or something -- I was nonetheless unable to help myself. I pushed the door open. It wasn't what I expected.

My mother and Veronica were there in the bedroom, bouncing together on the bed as if it were a trampoline, both smiling, my mother fully dressed and Veronica naked, her tits bouncing everywhere. They stopped when they saw me, then covered their mouths and began to giggle, pointing down at the tiny bat in my hand. Yet when I looked down, it wasn't the bat any more. I was naked now, and in my hand was my own erection. I tried to let it go, embarassed that my mother should see it at all, much less see me holding it, but instead I began to stroke. As I did, it grew, slowly, inch by inch. Veronica and my mother stopped giggling as it extended toward them freakishly, like Pinocchio's nose or something. I wanted it to stop, I willed it to stop... but it wouldn't.

"It's okay," a familiar voice said behind me, and I turned to see Bethany there. Cradling me from behind, she slid her hand down my arm, placed hers over mine, and began to help me stroke myself. This, of course, only made my dick get bigger still, until before long it was poking my mother in the side. My mother looked down at it in disgust, but seemed unable to move herself out of its way. Veronica, meanwhile, had somehow transformed into Susie Darcetti, a senior at my high school who'd graduated that year, and about whom I'd masturbated more times than I could count. Like Veronica, she was a brunette, with big tits, and at the moment, was wearing her cheerleading outfit. Or part of it anyway -- the skirt and shoes. But she was topless, and as she began to jump up and down, hooting and hollering, waving her pom-poms, her tits looked to me exactly like Veronica's.

"It's okay," Bethany whispered to me again. "Let it go." She reached around with both her hands now, and slid them up and down my shaft, which had grown to the size of a roll of carpet. "Show Mommy," she said, and a moment later, Susie Darcetti echoed this loudly, in a cheering voice, "Show Mommy! Show Mommy!" She was waving her pom-poms over my giant erection, tickling it, as my mother continued to look increasingly uncomfortable. "Cum for Mommy! Cum for Mommy!" Susie screamed. I wanted to tell my mother to leave, or apologize to her... or anything... because I knew what would happen soon. But I couldn't, because Bethany was suddenly kissing me, silencing me. As she did, I felt the familiar buildup. "Go Sammy, go Sammy, goooooo Sammy!" Susie cheered, straddling the top of my giant cock like a balancing beam, jiggling her tits in unison with the pom-poms. I knew I couldn't restrain myself for another second.

Suddenly, I was cumming, everywhere. From my freakishly big penis came equally freakish amounts of jizz, splashing all over the room. Some of it on my mother, some of it on Susie Darcetti. Susie just laughed and squealed, smearing it over herself, but my mother shrieked, and ran from the room. I was mortified. I had to wrestle myself away from Bethany, but finally did. I noticed that my giant penis was gone now, and that my usual one was in its place. Bethany tried to tickle me as I ran out of the room, but I slapped her hands away. "Not now!" I ran down the hall after my mother, wanting so badly to explain to her what had happened. When I reached the stairs, I lost my footing and fell, tumbling, all the way down. When I got to the bottom, I wondered why my neck wasn't broken.

As I sat there, I heard another pounding noise, like before. Except this time, it wasn't upstairs. I looked for my bat, but couldn't find it, and rose to my feet anyway, following the sound down the hall. Just past the kitchen was an open doorway, and when I peered inside, I saw my mother standing there in front of the washer and dryer, one of which was making the noise. She was naked, clutching herself tight, her back to me, rocking left and right to the rhythm of the machines. "It's wrong," she muttered. "It's wrong." Over and over.

"What's wrong?" I asked, advancing toward her as the machine grew louder and louder.

But all she could seem to do was keep saying it. Finally, as I drew closer, I reached out and placed a tentative hand on her shoulder. I meant to comfort her. Instead, she spun quickly toward me, as if I'd scared the hell out of her. "It's WRONG!" she said again, this time practically screaming the words at me. But the face wasn't my mother's. It was the face of Kevin's mother. Kevin had been my best friend and next-door neighbor until his family moved away at the start of summer. Bethany lived in their house now. Anyway, Kevin's mother started crying, burying her face in her hands, and all I could think to do was back away, one step at a time.

"I'm sorry," I said, but doubted my voice could be heard over the pounding and her sobbing. I kept taking steps back until I hit the wall. Then I turned around and saw that it wasn't a wall at all, but a door. I realized that the pounding wasn't coming from the washer or dryer, but from something behind the door. I reached down for the knob, grabbed it, but it broke off in my hand. Slowly, cautiously, I bent down, determined to know what was behind that door, planning to peek into the hole that had been left behind when the knob broke away. But before I could, the phone rang...

And I woke up, in my bed. The phone was ringing, and somewhere down the street, there was a steady pounding noise. I glanced over at the clock, saw it was 9:15, then stumbled out of bed toward the phone across the room. "Hello?" But I didn't reach it in time. A dial tone greeted me. I hung up the phone and went to the window, where bright rays of June sunshine ripped into my eyes. Once they'd adjusted, I slid the window open, poked my head out, and saw some utility trucks down the street. It looked as if they were ripping up part of the street.

"Thanks," I muttered, then stumbled back to the bed again. I knew I wouldn't be able to get back to sleep with all that pounding, so I just sat there instead, and tried to collect my thoughts. Undigested fragments of the dream I'd just had were still fresh in my mind, nagging at me. I looked down at my underwear, and saw that I'd cum recently. No doubt at the same time I'd done so in the dream. I remembered how Susie Darcetti had looked, bouncing around topless, and smiled. "If only." Then I thought about how my mother -- no, Kevin's mother -- had told me I was wrong. For what, I wasn't sure. It stuck with me, though. That and the door that wouldn't open.

I shook my head. It had certainly been a very strange, very intense dream.

A short while later, after a shower, I went downstairs to get some breakfast. The light on the phone in the kitchen was blinking, and reminded me of the call I'd missed. I checked the messages, and found one from Bethany...

"Hi, this is Bethany, next door. Sammy was supposed to come by this morning and install some new things on my computer for me." I chuckled at the contrived story. "Unfortunately, I have to cancel, because I need to take a friend to the airport. Please let him know that if he wants to come by later this afternoon, we can take care of it then. Otherwise, I'll get in touch with him this weekend. Thanks. Bye."

I deleted the message, then quickly ran to the front door and peered out. Sure enough, Bethany's car was gone. Damn, I thought. If I'd answered the phone in time earlier, there might have been a chance to go next door and get some more action from Veronica before she left. Oh well. Nothing to be done about it now.

On the way back to the kitchen, as I passed the door to the downstairs bathroom, I stopped. Something clicked in my mind. Something from the dream. There, next to the kitchen in our house, was a bathroom. Not a laundry room. Our washer and dryer were down in the basement, the door to which was on the other side of the hallway. Bethany's house next door had an almost identical layout to ours, yet next to the kitchen in her house, there was a laundry room. I knew this not only because Kevin used to live there, but also because the day before, when I'd been looking for Bethany downstairs, I'd checked the laundry room. And she wasn't there.

So then... how was it that she came upstairs carrying a laundry basket full of clean wash? I tried to remember if she told me she'd been doing laundry, or if I'd just assumed it. I probably had assumed it. Just as I'd assumed she was down in the basement. Where she must have been, for me not to have seen her. But then why the laundry basket? Was there another washer and dryer down there? Or had she grabbed the basket on her way back up? Yeah, that was probably it. She'd been exercising or something down in the basement, then grabbed the basket on her way up.

Satisfied with this explanation, I continued on to the kitchen and made myself a bowl of cereal.

After breakfast, I went out to the street to see what the construction guys were doing. It turned out they were fixing some underground wiring. This was interesting to watch for about fifteen minutes, then quickly got boring. So I went back inside and tooled around on my computer for a while. I tried to play the shoot-em-up game I'd been so excited to download for free from a file-sharing network the week before... but it quickly grew boring too. I went to Bethany's website, thinking maybe I'd jerk off over her pictures... but after all I'd experienced during the past few days, it just wasn't the same. I wanted the real thing. The real Bethany. Stripping for me, teasing me, making me explode. Two-dimensional photos on a screen just didn't cut it.

As I looked at an image of Bethany lifting a dress up to expose her sweet pussy, I suddenly remembered how hard I'd gotten holding her dress to my face a couple of days before, inhaling her scent. Now that, I thought, would really make the process of getting off while looking at her photos more interesting. Too bad I hadn't asked her if I could bring the dress home with me as a memento. If only I had a key to her house, I could go next door and borrow the dress, then return it later. She probably wouldn't mind. If only...

I stood, rushed to my desk, and began to dig through the mess of crap I'd pack-ratted in there over the months and years -- superballs, a yo-yo, old coins, action figures, parts of broken radios -- until I found what I was looking for... two keys, attached to each other by a rubber band. Kevin had given them to me the year before, when he and his family went away for a week, and he wanted me to sneak in and feed the small snake in his closet that his parents had forbidden him to keep. After the week was over, I was supposed to give him the keys back, but for whatever reason, he never asked for them, and I just forgot. Until now.

The big question was, would Bethany have changed the locks when she moved in... or no? All I knew was that it was worth a try. With the keys in one hand, I grabbed my empty backpack with the other, then rumbled down the stairs and out the door. I paused halfway across the lawn, aware of the more-than-usual number of people out on the street, watching what the construction people were up to. Clearly, I couldn't try the front door without risking an audience. So I ducked around to the back instead, through the pool area, to the sliding doors I'd entered the day before.

Just for the hell of it, I tried pulling the door open, but sure enough, it was locked. So I took a deep breath, and fished the smaller of the two keys into the lock. I was encouraged by the fact that the lock itself looked anything but new. The key slid directly in, and I exhaled a sigh of relief. Then I tried to turn it... and it didn't turn. I tried to turn it the other way, and got the same result. Shit, I thought. So close. Then I remembered that the year before, I'd needed to jiggle the key a few times to make it work. So I did the same again... and sure enough, it worked.

After tucking the keys into my pocket, I slid the door open and stepped quietly into the house. I wasn't sure why I was bothering to be quiet, considering that I knew nobody was home, but it seemed like a good idea anyway. I padded across the kitchen to the stairs, and on the way, happened to catch the door to the basement out of the corner of one eye. My dream from the night before and my thoughts about them that morning leapt into my mind, and I couldn't resist backtracking to the door. Tentatively, I placed my hand on the knob, squeezed it, and gave it a turn. It was locked.

Hm, I thought. That's strange. I tried both of the keys, not expecting either of them to work, and true to my suspicions, neither did. Now, I was really curious. If Bethany was down in the basement the day before -- and I was almost certain she had to have been -- then what could she have been doing that would require locking the door behind her? I put my ear to the wood, to see what I could hear, but the pounding of the men outside made it impossible to discern anything. I got on all fours, to see if could peek under, but there was virtually no space to see through. Whatever was down there, I clearly wouldn't be finding out until Bethany came home, and I could ask her.

Although frustrated, I was still keenly aware of my reason for being in the house in the first place. With a renewed sense of purpose, I bee-lined for the stairs again, climbed them, and made my way into Bethany's bedroom. I did a quick scan of the room, and found various pieces of clothing from her "costume" the day before strewn on the floor -- the skirt, the blouse, the stockings, the heels. I bent over and picked up the blouse, held it to my face, and almost instantly, my dick went hard. Her scent alone was an aphrodisiac. I was about to stuff the blouse into my backpack. Then I realized that this would just result in me having to make the extra trip of bringing it back later. Why not just do what I needed to do with it here, put it back where I found it, and leave things at that?

Several minutes later, after I'd grabbed the huge bottle of hand lotion from the bathroom, I was sprawled out on Bethany's large bed, the blouse draped across my face, tugging my shorts and underwear down, freeing my erection. I'm not sure how much of its excitement was due to smelling Bethany's perfume and how much to the somewhat illicit nature of what I was getting ready to do, but regardless, it was raring to go. I closed my eyes, pictured Bethany, shot some lotion into my hand, and went to town, stroking myself, imagining it was anybody's hand but my own.

When I heard somebody say my name, I nearly jumped out of my skin.

"Sammy?" The voice was female, and came from the direction of the hallway door.

I quickly yanked the blouse from my face, and turned toward the voice. It was Sasha, Bethany's daughter. Before I could even begin to process why she would be standing there, or how she'd gotten into the house, I realized that my hand was still on my dick -- frozen, no longer stroking, but still there. I pulled it away.

Sasha smiled at me, wickedly. "Well... somebody's having fun." Petite and cute, with whitish-blonde hair cut in a short bob, she wore what seemed to be the same exact outfit she'd had on a few days ago, when I first met her -- an extremely cropped white t-shirt and denim shorts, which showed off not only her ample D-cup chest, but also her incredible tan. As before, her nipples stood out in stark relief beneath the shirt, revealing that she wore no bra. She walked casually across the room toward me, then stopped, and sat on the edge of the bed.

"I -- I'm sorry I said. I shouldn't be here."

"Oh, please," she responded. "If one of us shouldn't be here, it's probably me."

"Why not?" I asked.

"Well, I'm supposed to be in Montana, remember?" This was true. "You know," Sasha said, "you really don't have to stop on my account. Far be it from me to interrupt a young boy taking care of business."

I blushed. "You're not," I said. "I just got started."

"Oh, then you don't mind if I play along?" she asked. Without warning, she placed a hand on my inner thigh, then trailed her pink nails slowly up, over my balls, and skated them along the edge of my cock.

"N-not at all," I replied, thinking to myself, how is this possible? How do I go from one minute thinking I'll need to jerk myself off to get satisfaction, then suddenly having a beautiful woman ready to do it for me? Even with everything that had gone on for the past week, it seemed a bit unlikely.

And yet, as Sasha lubed her hand up, and began to stroke me, these thoughts quickly began to drain out of my mind. "Wait," she said, and paused long enough to remove her shirt, bringing her huge tan-lined tits out to play. "I seem to recall you liked these." She smiled, then went back to jerking me off, sliding her small, feminine hand expertly up and down my slippery shaft. It felt wonderful... yet still... something seemed wrong.

"H-how did you get in?" I asked.

"Through the back door," she responded. "Same as you."

"But... I didn't see your car. Where were you?"

Sasha seemed to grow annoyed. "If you're going to ask so many questions, maybe I just won't play any more." As if to illustrate, she lifted her hand, and held it inches from my cock.

"No," I said. "Please. Don't stop. I just... it's kind of confusing."

She smiled, then resumed stroking me. "On the contrary. It's the least confusing thing in the world. You're a horny little boy, my hand is on your cock, and it feels good. Right?"

I couldn't dispute this. "Yes," I said. "It does."

"Then don't think about it so much. Just go with it."

And so for all of a few minutes, I just went with it. Then I said, "But..."

"But what?" Sasha replied, clearly getting annoyed again. She stayed her hand. "What is it? Would you rather I give you a blowjob again?" She grinned. "Or do you want me to climb on top of you and take a ride?"

"No," I said. "I mean yes, I would. But..."

"But what?"

With a great force of will, I sat up. "Something's not right," I said. "You just showing up here with perfect timing doesn't make any sense. The last time I saw you, you were driving back to Montana. Now you're here again." I ran the train of events through my head. "And... and you weren't anywhere outside when I came into the house, so how did you even know the door would be unlocked?"

Sasha looked a bit put off, but answered smoothly. "I didn't know. I just tried it, and it was."

"So then how did you know I came in the same way?"

"I... guessed." I could tell that even she wasn't happy with this answer.

"Where did you come from really?" I asked. "Were you somewhere in the house?"

She shook her head, getting red in the face. "Sammy, really, you're getting paranoid over nothing."

I thought about the locked basement door. "Were you down in the basement?"

By the time I said this, Sasha was already on her feet, facing away from me, so I couldn't read her expression. "Sammy, now you're just being stupid. Why would I be down in the basement?"

"I don't know." She was right. I felt stupid. Stupid for sitting there arguing with a hot girl who moments before had been offering to have sex with me... but there was something about the way she was being so defensive that made me think my small hunch had some measure of truth to it. I turned the question back around on her. "Why wouldn't you be?" I asked.

"Be what?" she replied.

"Down in the basement."

Sasha turned and faced me again, her arms crossed over her chest. "Maybe because all that's down there are some boxes of things my mother hasn't gotten around to unpacking yet."

I thought about this. "How would you know that?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean... when were you ever in the house before today?"

Sasha paused, then said, "Sammy, I really think you should leave now."

This response made me feel more confused than ever. Was I right to suspect she was lying to me, and that that's what was making her so angry? Or was there nothing wrong at all? In which case, I might seem like a bit of a lunatic to her, asking crazy questions about the basement. "Why?" I asked.

"I can't tell you why," she said, thereby heightening the mystery. "Just go."

I pulled my shorts up, buttoned them, and sat on the edge of the bed.

As I reached around for the bottle of lotion, Sasha said, "Don't worry about that. I'll put it away. Just please leave, now." Her expression was a mix of both anger and some kind of sadness. Or maybe fear?

"What's wrong?" I asked, as I started toward the door.

"Nothing." She continued to stand there, her arms crossed. "Go."

"Whatever. Jeez." As I made my way down the stairs, she followed me closely. I had decided I was going to do something, but was waiting for the right moment. When we passed the front door, Sasha made as if to open it for me, until I said, "It's probably not a good idea for people to see me leaving that way."

"Oh... right. The back door then."

Now's the best time, I thought, and bolted. Before Sasha could figure out what I was up to, I had already rounded the corner into the hallway, and was standing in front of the basement door.

"Sammy, what are you doing?" she yelled.

I grabbed the knob, gave it a twist, and pulled. It opened.

"Sammy, stop! You can't go down there!"

Without another thought, I plunged into the brightly lit stairwell.

I'm not sure what I expected to find in the basement, really. I guess my suspicion when I'd been grilling Sasha upstairs was that maybe she'd been living down there. Which opened up a host of questions. Why would both she and Bethany have lied to me about it? Why would they have made up the whole grandmother in Montana story? Were they even mother and daughter at all? And most importantly, if Bethany had been lying to me about that, then what else might she have been lying to me about all this time? The possibilities were unsettling.

For better or worse, Bethany was somebody I'd grown to trust in a relatively short period of time. I'm not sure why exactly. Maybe because we'd shared various kinds of intimacy. Maybe because I knew she had more to lose than I did by being involved with somebody my age. Maybe because, in my own juvenile way, I loved her. Or maybe just because it's a whole lot easier to trust people you find attractive... especially when they tend to be naked a lot. Whatever the reason, I trusted her. Perhaps naively. And now that trust seemed to be crashing down all around me.

So anyway, as I say, I didn't quite know what I'd find down in that basement.

All I know is that any suspicions I MIGHT have had could not have been more wrong.

As I hit the bottom step, I turned and saw a dirty blonde, kind of short, not quite slim but with an hourglass figure, busty... and very naked. She smiled widely when she saw me. "Hi, Sammy."

I recognized her immediately. In fact, I'd just been thinking about her a couple of days ago. A cousin of Kevin's, who we'd both drooled over so much the summer before. But how could she be here? "Jilly?"

And just then, something blunt struck the back of my head. And I blacked out.

As I awoke some time later -- I couldn't be sure how much later -- my skull was throbbing, and I found myself tied to a chair, arms at my side, a few loops of rope stretched across my torso. Across the room from me were several people in white coats, hovering over what looked to be a shiny operating table of sorts, slanted at a 45-degree angle. They all had their backs to me, blocking my line of sight, so that the most I could see of who or what was on the table was the bottom half of a pair of feminine legs. Still reeling from the blow to my head, I wasn't sure whether or not to draw attention to the fact that I was awake now. After all, who were these people? What were they doing? Clearly, whatever it was, it was secretive enough to have knocked me out and tied me up over it.

"Look who's awake," a voice to the left of me said. I turned, and there was Veronica, sitting in a chair like the one I was in, but not tied up. She wore a skimpy blue dress that accentuated her curves, had her legs crossed, and appeared to have been reading the magazine in her lap just moments before.

"Veronica?" I said.

"Yes, dear." She giggled to herself. "Oh. I have never seen somebody look so confused as you."

"Yeah. Well. There's a lot to be confused about at the moment."

By this point, our voices had caught the attention of the people in the white coats across the room. All four of them turned and walked toward me. I'd like to say I was completely surprised by who they were, but frankly, at this point, nothing surprised me as much as it probably should have. One was Sasha. One was Jilly. One was a latina woman, nearly as tall as Bethany, who I didn't recognize. And the fourth, of all people, was Kevin's father. Since his was the absolute last face I expected to see at that moment, he's who I focused my attention on.

"Mister Brannon?"

"Hello, Sammy," he said to me, looking a bit sheepish.

"I -- " I didn't know what to say.

"I'm sorry about the ropes. I just needed to make sure you wouldn't get away before I had a chance to explain what's going on here." He gestured to the various attractive women surrounding him with an awkward sweep of his hands, as if this alone would be enough to explain it to me. They all just smiled.

"Um. Okay," I said. "So... what IS going on?"

Jilly was the one to answer. "Something wonderful," she said.

To this, Sasha added, smiling, "Almost a miracle, really."

I nodded my head slowly. "Okay. Can you maybe... be more specific?"

"It's actually kind of complicated," Mr. Brannon said, scratching the back of his head.

"Oh, I don't know. It's not so complicated, really. Is it?" This was a new voice, and a familiar one. The others turned and parted, revealing that the woman on the metal table behind them was none other than Bethany. She wore her best-looking outfit -- nothing at all -- and rose from the metal table groggily, as if she'd still been asleep only a few seconds before. She slid her legs over the side, rubbed at her eyes, and found the floor with her feet.

"Bethany, what's going on?" I asked, sure that I would finally get some answers.

Naked, her huge tits jiggling with each step, Bethany crossed the room toward me. I noticed that all of the women -- Sasha, Jilly, Veronica, and the latina woman -- smiled at her with a kind of... reverence or something. As if they were incredibly happy to have her in the same room with them. Mr. Brannon, meanwhile, continued to appear somewhat sheepish. "Well," Bethany said, smirking down at me from a foot away, "the easy answer is 'cloning'."

"What?" Confused as I was, I still couldn't help but gawk at the sight of Bethany's magnificent body. As she stood above me, her face nearly obscured by her magnificent chest, her fat nipples jutting proudly, her pussy less than a foot from my face, I could feel my cock growing hard in my shorts.

"Cloning," she repeated. "Of a sort."

"Of... what sort?" I asked.

Mr. Brannon stepped up next to Bethany. "The sort that works." He smirked to himself, as if he believed he'd told a really good knee-slapping joke, then smoothed his features over when nobody else laughed.

Of course, he hadn't really told me anything at all. "Oh," I said. "That kind."

Bethany caught my sarcasm, and grinned. "You know, you weren't supposed to find out about this."

I thought her words over. "So... what WAS I supposed to do?" I asked.

While I wasn't looking, Veronica had positioned herself behind me, and now she slid her hands slowly down my chest, leaning in over my shoulder, one of her breasts pressing against the side of my head. "Silly boy. You were supposed to be enjoying yourself," she said. One hand continued downward, over my stomach, until it reached the bulge in my shorts. "We had so many very good surprises ready for you."

"She's right," Sasha said. "We really only just got started."

"Started what?" I asked. "Who's we?" Everybody's vagueness was starting to drive me nuts.

Bethany squatted down, bringing her face on a level with mine. "Sammy, we really can't tell you much more than that right now," she said. "Not yet. You shouldn't even know this much."

"I don't feel like I know anything," I replied. Which was true.

"Yes, but you know enough," she added. "Enough to know I'm not exactly who or what I seem to be."

"So... who or what are you then?"

"I'm Bethany," she grinned. "And I'm not. I'm a web model. And I'm not. But one thing I am, aside from everything else, is your friend. That's what's important. And as your friend, I don't want to keep you here against your will. None of us do. But we need to know that if we untie you and let you go, you won't run off and tell everybody what's going on here. Even if you don't know what's going on here. Does that make sense?"