Chapter 9

In school the next day, Meg and Sally stayed to help with the children. It was fairly clear by now that they weren't really needed, but their friendship with Rachel was an excuse to do that, and they found they liked being in an academic setting with the children.

Meg's confusion about what was different about Bobby was added to when Rachel started acting odd too. She seemed completely normal at first, but when she talked to Bobby she stuttered and couldn't think of the word she was looking for. She handed Bobby a book to read and her hands were shaking.

"Are you all right?" Meg asked, concern in her voice.

"What?" asked a distracted Rachel. "Me? Yes, of course. I'm fine."

"Your hands are trembling," pointed out Meg.

Rachel stared at her hands as if they actually belonged to someone else. She blinked, and then looked at Meg. "Cold. I'm still chilled from warming up the room." She moved off to work with a child, but she seemed distracted all day. When noon came she seemed to relax, and was her old self. She turned to Meg and said "I'm working with Bobby this afternoon." She was flushed as she said it.

"Are you sure you're all right?" asked Meg, worried now that Rachel had something and wasn't paying attention to it. "Maybe you should have the doctor look at you. You look flushed to me."

"Meg!" said Rachel. "I'm fine! Now, get those children home so they can eat."

Rachel watched them leave and looked at her hands. They were still shaking. And she knew she looked flushed because she felt flushed. Bobby was still reading as she straightened up the room.

"Are you ready to go?" she asked.

He looked up and grinned. He nodded and stood up. Rachel's knees felt weak.

They walked at what seemed like a snail's pace to Rachel, but actually arrived at her door in ten minutes. It usually took her fifteen to make that walk. She opened the door and let him in, following him. Then she closed and bolted the door. The bolt had magically been there when she'd returned from being recuperated by Eunice and her other friends. Bobby was already fiddling with the stove, blowing on the embers left from her last stoking of the fire that morning before she left.

Rachel, after she gave up her virginity at two in the afternoon the day before, had slept peacefully until two in the morning. When she woke in the middle of the night, she was warm and cozy in bed. She'd had to get up to use the toilet, and had winced at the ache between her legs. Her muscles were sore, like she'd walked too much, or lifted too much. Except that these muscles were in places she hadn't even been aware she had muscles. Once back in bed she had tried to regain that warm cozy feeling. She wished that Bobby was there with her. She'd be warm then.

She eventually regained that warm feeling, but she wasn't sleepy any more, and her mind began to reflect on ... things. She realized she was being silly. She realized she had done something she shouldn't have. She realized that her fantasies could never come true. In the dark of night she realized a lot of things. By morning she had left her drunken hallucinations of happiness with Bobby behind. She'd felt exhausted, even though she'd slept for twelve hours.

She'd had to make herself go to school.

And, when she got there, and Bobby sauntered in, every trace of her resolve not to repeat her mistake vanished like dandelion fluff in a tornado. As soon as he looked at her she wanted to strip naked and thrust herself against him. She was actually glad to see Meg and Sally were going to stay simply because that meant she wouldn't do something incredibly stupid in front of the children.

She couldn't remember a single thing she'd taught in school, she realized, as she looked at Bobby's buttocks in his too-tight pants. And now, here she was, with the man of her dreams, including a few nightmares. One of those nightmares was of her, waddling down the street in town, her bulging belly sticking out in front of her, pulling her forward, as the townspeople pointed and snickered behind the hand in front of each mouth.

He stood up and turned around. He smiled at her.

She realized that her dress was already half unbuttoned, and there was an unfamiliar slickness between her legs.

There was no pain this time, other than a faint residual ache in those newly discovered muscles. Those muscles rose to the occasion, though, and that incredible body filling explosion came so quickly that Rachel moaned that it should be there and fade so quickly. Her uncomprehending mind saw something in the distance that rushed toward her as he continued to slide in and out of her and she sobbed with joy as she realized that it could happen again so quickly. Her hips thrust up so violently with her second orgasm that she lifted Bobby, her back straining to make her buttocks clear the mattress by two or three inches.

During her third orgasm, as she felt him tense and freeze, she felt his prick move and jump inside her and that fabulous heat flooded into her. Her sobs were gone now. Her joy was accepted unconditionally, along with the seed she knew would make part of her dreams come true. But now she laughed, because in her dream she was proud, and strong, her swollen belly on display for the people she passed as she carried her lover's baby down the street.

It occurred to her that, if she could reach a pinnacle more than once in a short while ... he might be able to as well. She didn't let him get up this time, holding him close, side by side, trading kisses and touches. And to her delight her logic was proved as he rolled on top of her again and took her to the mountain top with him again.

It was bath night. Mavis sat, mending a shirt, listening to Meg's description of people who had the bodies of playing cards, and a bloodthirsty queen who would probably give the children nightmares. She glanced up at Bobby, with his lap full of girls who might as well have been sitting on toad stools, for as much attention as they actually paid him. Their mouths were open, their eyes staring as Meg fed their imaginations with images that took all their concentration to deal with.

Naked children came running into the room, digging silently into the pile of clean clothes, already listening to Meg's hypnotic voice. Others were pulled to the bathroom, dragging their feet, wanting to hear one more line, to see one more fantastic image in their imaginations before their literary drug was withdrawn. Meg seemed not to notice, as if she too was caught up in the story.

When the second batch of naked children appeared, Mavis put her sewing aside and stood up, leaning over backward to ease her back.

"I filled the tub already for you Meg," said Donna, herding children toward the pile of clothes.

"I'm taking care of Bobby tonight," Mavis announced.

Meg looked up and Mavis would have sworn there was a touch of panic in her face, or disappointment ... or something.

"It doesn't seem fair to put it all on one or two people," she said. She didn't even believe her own statement, and knew it sounded flat.

She had decided to get to the bottom of the "Bobby phenomenon" as she thought of it. Every woman who went in there came out looking different, even though Bobby always looked like ... Bobby. She saw Meg and Sally trade looks, and her determination firmed.

Yes, she was going to find out what went on in there, and whether she was going to have to do something radical or not.

Bobby's world had undergone a lot of changes since he had come to Milleson House. His wary attitude - his will to survive - had abated to some degree as survival became much easier. The attitudes of the people he'd encountered, primarily the women who were suddenly thrust into his life, had exposed him to something that no other place he'd ever live had. He'd been exposed to love, and caring, and unselfishness. He was keenly aware of all this, though he knew nothing of the theory that Mr. Maslow would put forth, or that he was firmly ensconced on level three of Mr. Maslow's pyramid of needs. He was also keenly aware that he had the capacity to make the women feel just as wonderful as they made him feel. There were things he still didn't understand. Perhaps those would come in time. His grasp of morality was tenuous, at best, though he knew that stealing was wrong, and killing as well, though only under certain circumstances. He was, however, beginning to understand the concept of love. It was still a strange thing ... this love thing ... but he had received it from a number of women, and had found inside himself, the ability to return that love to those women.

It never occurred to him that in the society in which he lived, a man was expected to return the love of only one woman. Had someone sat him down and told him that, he would have laughed. Why in the world would someone want to limit that incredibly wonderful feeling? He had reflected on the fact that each of the women he had come to know was different in some ways, and alike in others. It seemed logical to him that they would show their love in ways that were also different, and the same. He didn't think it was odd that Meg and Sally loved him with their mouths, while Prudence and Rachel loved him between their legs. If he'd been asked, he would have said that he imagined he'd love all those women in all those ways sooner or later.

Now, he was being taken to bathe by Mavis. He knew she was "in charge" of his world. He knew that whatever she said was law. But he knew she was a woman also, and that she loved him. Her status as an authority figure didn't make him wary, since his teacher was also an authority figure who had loved him and loved him well. He knew what all the other women who loved him had done when they took him to bathe. It didn't occur to him that Mavis would do anything different in the bathroom.

He liked to look at her. Her body was different than that of the others, with a little more flesh on it. Her face was a little more lined. She stood up a little more slowly than the others, and stretched a little more often. But she was soft and warm when she hugged him. He looked forward to what he assumed would happen in the bathroom.

It was for all those reasons that, when he dropped his pants in front of Mavis Milleson, that he was fully erect, and ready to please, and be pleased by the woman.

To give Mavis credit, her intentions were more those of a detective, trying to gather evidence to support a hypothesis, than those of a woman trying to get a glimpse of something she knew, on some level, had to exist.

But knowing something exists, or would exist under certain circumstances, is different than being confronted with that object.

Mavis was a strong woman ... a resolute woman in most situations. She cannot be blamed for having been, not so many years earlier, a hot-blooded woman who desired to fill a whole house with children from her loins. Her husband had been a caring man, who made sure that his wife experienced the same bliss he did as he rode her to earth-shattering orgasms. She cannot be blamed for storing memories of those earth-shattering orgasms in a tiny corner of her mind. Like a safety deposit box in a bank some distance away, those memories were not often visited, but were treasured, none-the-less. And while Mavis controlled her conscious mind, there was an unconscious Mavis who knew from the look on Meg's face, that time her dress was buttoned wrongly, and from the change in Sally's attitude, and from the bounciness in Prudence's step, that being in that bathroom with Bobby was something that could make a woman's life better than it had been.

Mavis had clamped down on her own emotions when her husband had died. She had forged ahead, and done what needed to be done. She had pushed her own emotions and passions into a tiny box, like a traveler sits on a too-full suitcase to get it closed. She tried to be proud of how she had survived. But the unconscious Mavis ... the passionate Mavis ... the hot-blooded Mavis inside her ... that Mavis was tired of being cramped and unused and hidden away.

Had the conscious Mavis known what her unhappy inner self wanted, she might have been able to beat it back into submission. But when she saw that strong, young, virile penis pointing at her like an accusing finger, the latch on her over-full emotional suitcase stretched to the snapping point like it was made of cheap plastic. She wouldn't have been more surprised if an alligator had stuck its head up out of the tub and said "Hello, I'm Chuck, your new boarder."

She was, in fact, speechless.

Bobby knew that Mavis used the tub on bath nights, after all the others were done and all the children were in bed. He'd heard her complain before that it caused her to go to bed too late sometimes. In Bobby's simple world, since they were both in the bathroom, it seemed that the rational thing to do was for him and Mavis to bathe at the same time, like he and Meg had done.

To that end, he began helping Mavis prepare for their bath by helping her undress.

Mavis watched as Bobby's nimble fingers made short work of the buttons of her dress. Mavis, having had no children, still had youthful breasts. She thought of them as not too large, and not too small, but a bother, because they weren't good for anything, particularly with those long sensitive nipples perched on top of them that kept trying to remind her that she was a woman and that they needed attention. As Bobby pushed the dress off her shoulders and it began to slide down her arms, the conscious Mavis took a breath to demand to know just what in tarnation Bobby thought he was doing. About then Bobby saw a fat, distended nipple and leaned in to see what it tasted like.

Mavis' unconscious mind, loose now inside her body, was doing an inventory of all the unused sexual parts of her body. It was alerted to the fact that a nipple was being stimulated and shouted "Yes! It's about damn time!" It then hurriedly went about making sure that all the other unused sexual parts of her were oiled, primed or otherwise ready to experience the same fabulous stimulation.

"Bobbeeeeeeee" squealed Mavis. Her conscious mind got a word in edgewise. "What are you doooooooing?"

Bobby kissed up her chest to her lips and suddenly Mavis couldn't breathe any more.

Before she could catch her breath, she was standing naked in the bathroom with a Bobby who was equally and gloriously naked. He pulled her to the tub and, she reacted instinctively by stepping into it. He joined her, behind her, and sat down in the warm water, spreading his legs in an obvious invitation for her to sit between them. She stood, eyes wide, ankles and calves warm and stared at what would press against her lower back if she accepted that invitation. It looked larger through the clear water and the slickness between her legs began to run down her inner thighs. He reached up with one hand to get the soap, and the other to take her hand and pull.

"T-t-this is how you take a bath?" she whispered.

He smiled and nodded, looking at her with eyes she could just drown in and she felt her knees bend as her unconscious mind told her to sit.

Then his soapy hands were all over her shoulders and back and sliding around to cup and massage her breasts and, again, she couldn't breathe. He pulled her back against his chest as his hands slid over her distended nipples and dipped down to rub her belly. She fully expected those slippery hands to dip lower and, while her conscious mind screamed at her to stop this immediately, her knees smacked into the sides of the tub loud enough to make a dull thunking noise. She registered the pain of her knees hitting the porcelain-covered metal, and that pain might have supported her conscious mind, had not his hands come back up to twiddle and play with her straining nipples again. She groaned and her hands, which had been gripping the edge of the tub at the insistence of her conscious mind, which was telling her to stand up this very minute and get out of that tub, fell away as they betrayed her. Those hands went to cover his, helping him rub and squeeze her breasts. To her conscious mind's horror, her hands pushed his lower until they went where she had earlier thought they were going to go.

She leaned hard against him as one of his fingers split her labia and now no longer soapy, slid across her clit like a knife on a sharpening stone. Her buttocks came up off the bottom of the tub as his finger dipped into her. As she rose, his finger helped, pulling at her and she squealed an inarticulate whine of pleasure.

Her self control ... that tenuous stretched plastic latch on her emotional suitcase shattered, and her passionate nature surged out like a starving wolf that has been caged and sees fresh meat lying on the ground.

Her body surged, her hands gripping the edges of the tub again and pulling her up. But her conscious mind was no longer telling her to do this. Her unconscious mind had screamed "Shut up!" and she got out of the tub, pulling Bobby up with her and then down onto the slim pile of padding that was her crumpled dress. She landed hard, bruising her buttocks, but she didn't care as she pulled Bobby down on top of her between her spread thighs. He knew what to do, and before she could grasp his manhood he had it in his fist, poking it where his finger had just been. Her hands made claws and she leaned upward, her belly muscles straining so she could reach his buttocks.

As she felt the nose of his prick enter her she dug her fingers in and pulled hard. Bobby let go and, reacting to her nails in his flesh, slammed forward, skewering her to her core.

It was fortunate that Donna was still upstairs, putting children to bed. She was by herself, which meant she had more children to get tucked in than usual. That was because the other three women were huddled, not exactly outside the bathroom door, but not far from it. Meg and Sally knew, of course, why each other were there. They were in a panic as to what Mavis would find out about what they had done with Bobby. No one had told them that Prudence had given Bobby an 'extra' bath, and they didn't know that she too was concerned about what Mavis was going to find out in that room. That was why all three of them were there, instead of doing what they normally would have done.

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