Chapter 7B

Brute still wanted to play, but he was less insistent than before. I think he realized that we had something else to do at the moment. Neeka got the tape and I carried the bag of bone meal out onto the flat part of the yard, out next to the woods where it was widest. We laid out six rows of white lines, each exactly ten feet apart. Then we added short marks halfway between the ten-foot lines. In only a few minutes, we had a fifty-foot-long ruler laid out on the ground.

Neeka and Brute went back toward the house and partly up the slope to get a good view. I walked to the first line and backed off all the way to the hedge on the property line. I would have just under a 100-foot run-up.

I stood with one foot in front of me, breathing deeply and trying to relax. I tranced and visualized the run-up and the take-off just at the first white line. I went over what I wanted to do again and again until I felt ready. I swung my arms back and forth to get the most momentum to start and then I started running as hard and as fast as I could.

The first line came up incredibly fast and I planted my right leg as viciously hard as I could and threw myself into the air. Again, I had the sensation of flying, but this time I did not look down. I focused on getting my legs out in front of me, and landing as far away as I could. I was almost bent over double when my heels hit and I rolled forward over my knees. I was lying flat on my back on the cool grass when I heard cheering. Up on the slope were Neeka, Bambi, Bud, Jim and Brute. Everyone was cheering, except Brute. I stood up and looked around to find my mark. I walked back and stood where my heels had made dents in the sandy soil. The marks were fully five feet past the last white line. I had covered a distance of fifty-five feet, which was over twice the world record distance for the women's long jump, although I didn't know that at the time.

I looked up at my audience and raised my hands, both to acknowledge their applause and to wave them back. I was pumped now. I wanted to try it again.

I walked back to my starting point and counted the number of steps I would take to the take-off point. I pictured a different approach and takeoff. I braced myself and started breathing as fast and as hard as I could. When I had worked up all the adrenaline I could muster and my blood was boiling with it, I let out a high scream and took off running. This time I paced my approach and timed it so I was going as fast as possible one step before take-off. I took a little hop up to the line and planted both legs and went down to a half-squat before jumping forward with my arms extended. It was the classic superheroine takeoff. All I needed was the cape snapping behind me. I kept my head down between my arms and my legs straight to make myself as aerodynamic as possible. Only when I felt myself dropping on the far end of the arc did I pull my arms down and into a tuck. I somersaulted in as tight a ball as I could and waited as long as I dared before snapping out and reaching for the ground with my toes. My timing was perfect. I landed on both feet and jogged away.

I slowed to a walk; turned around and headed back. My cheering section was running down to meet me. Jim and Neeka arrived first with Brute beside them.

"Where's my mark?" I asked. Neither answered. They just pounded me on the back and kept saying, "That was great! That was fantastic!"

When Bud and Bambi came up we all walked back to my landing point for the second measured jump. While Neeka stood on the mark, Jim pulled the end of the tape back to the last line. The tape ran out just as he reached it. That made the total distance over sixty-five feet.

Everyone hugged me and kissed me. Even Brute tried to get in on the act.

Neeka said, "Sam, that wasn't a jump, that was flying."

Bambi hugged me, and said, "That was wonderful! That was amazing!"

I pulled back from her embrace and said, "I can do better."

"I don't doubt that for a second, honey. But right now you need to run inside and get cleaned up for dinner. I thought I would do something simple for a change, so I made fried chicken and it was much harder than I thought it would be."

"So, you have some more respect for the Colonel now, hunh?" I was ready to duck, but she just smiled at my sarky question.

Neeka ran off to eat with her mother and the rest of us went back inside, except Brute. He seemed disappointed that all his people were together and he could not be with them, but he settled down by the door to keep watch without too much whining.

I went to my room to take a quick shower. On the way, I stripped and dropped my workout clothes down the laundry chute in the hall. I was heading into my bathroom when I noticed that I could see our homemade athletic field from my window. As I looked down on the spot where I had demolished all existing records for the long jump, I thought about how my name would never be in the record books and how my athletic accomplishments would be limited to the boundary of that yard. It made me think about how different I was, not only from the person I had been a few weeks earlier but now from the rest of humanity.

I thought about how my choices in life would be constrained by my abilities. It was ironic that, now that I had something to brag about, I was more aware than ever how publicity could ruin my life and the lives of my family and friends. Celebrity was something I had daydreamed about before. Now that I had it in my grasp, I realized that it was much better left a dream.

I thought about how my costume, with its capacity for concealment, would be a fitting analogy for my life — hiding in plain sight, like a chameleon. I even began to regret the allies I had made in Sheriff Foster and Mr. Morton, useful though they would be to my career. The more people who knew my secret, the greater my risk of eventual exposure.

It was all a matter of risk. Strangely, the obvious risks to my life and limbs did not bother me as much as the risk of being labeled a freak or an oddity and spending the rest of my life trying to hide, like a roach on a kitchen floor when the light went on.

In the corner of the room next to the window was an antique full-length mirror on a stand. I turned and looked at my reflection in it. I saw a short girl with very large breasts, a narrow waist, boyish butt, trim but muscular legs, and a golden all-over tan. I did not look like a champion athlete or a crime-fighting superhero. I put my shoulders back, tightened my stomach, tweaked my nipples to make them stand out, and posed with one hand on a hip, one knee bent and my toes pointed. I thought I looked great. I had no problem with being admired, not for my body or my mind, but I had no desire to live my life under a microscope, either figuratively or literally. If I had to make compromises, if I had to hide my light under the proverbial bushel, if I had to play the Dumb Blonde part that Bambi suggested was my natural cover, although I still wasn't convinced that a Smart Blonde cover wouldn't work as well, then I would do it. I decided that as long as I made the choice with my eyes open and my head up, then I could accept the consequences of my choice with no regrets.

I skipped off to the shower with a much better frame of mind. I even smiled at the term 'Smart Blonde'. It sounded like some new kind of military hardware. I was going to be a devastating new kind of weapon, all right. I was going to be The Dragon. I had the strength, the speed, and the power. All I lacked was control and experience.

"Patience, Sam," I told myself as the hot water poured over me. "You also lack patience."

After a hurried primp at the vanity to brush my blonde mop into shape, I was faced with another hard choice. I had no idea what to wear to supper. With all those marvelous clothes in my closet, I could not stand to put on another pair of shorts and t-shirt. Still, most of my new clothes seemed far too fancy to wear to eat fried chicken in.

I chuckled at the image of me, sitting at the table in a formal ball-gown with elbow-length gloves on, daintily holding a drumstick. That was the old me, afraid to wear something nice, something special. Who would be seeing me? Only the people who meant the most to me. Weren't they worth wearing nice clothes for? If not them, who, for goodness sake?

I took a page from Mrs. Reynolds book and put on a buttonless gold shirt with a matching chain-mail belt. The front hung open all the way down below my navel. The belt held the tails closed at the tops of my thighs and the back hung down just below my read end. The sides were slit up above my waist and the filmy gold fabric was sheer. If I had tan-lines, they would have been visible. As it was, the shirt appeared opaque because my skin tone underneath complemented the light shade of the cloth.

I put on a pair of high-heels to match and posed in front of the mirror. I changed my makeup from schoolgirl to vixen. I looked like I belonged in a mens' magazine; maybe in a perfume ad or maybe even as the centerfold girl.

That reminded me that Mrs. Reynolds had stocked the vanity in my room with a selection of expensive perfume that had accumulated over the years into a drawer full of scents. I picked a brand that I recognized and sprayed my neck with it. I guess I was only used to the cheap stuff, because the power of it nearly knocked me down. For a moment, I thought I would have to jump back in the shower to wash some of it off, but when I backed out of the cloud it didn't seem so bad so I left it alone and went down to supper.

The high heels almost did me in on the stairs. They were mules with 5" heels and much taller than anything I had worn before. I almost took them off so I wouldn't fall down, but after the first flight of stairs I caught on to the trick of keeping an even amount of weight on my toe and heel. Leaning forward or backward was dangerous. I had to stand and walk like a statue. This did wonders for my posture and made me feel elegant.

I was later than I expected for supper. Bambi had already served our plates, but everyone had waited for me. I walked into the room with as much grace and poise as I could manage. The reaction I got made me feel like a princess.

The boys practically gaped, while Bambi beamed. Her lips said happy while her eyes said proud. I thought it was because I had dressed-up until Bud inadvertently explained it.

"Gee, you look just like Mom!" he said.

The silence was deafening as we all considered the implications. I had tried to copy Bambi's style and elegance, but not to make myself an imitation of her. I tried to think of something to say, but failed. Jim wisely kept his mouth shut and let things run their course without his input. It was left to Bud to defuse the situation by stuffing his other foot into his mouth.

"I... I mean that in a good way!" he explained.

We all broke out laughing at that. Bud blushed brilliantly red as he saw that he had only dug himself deeper in to an already awkward position. Bambi walked up behind him and dug her fingers into his hair.

"That's all right, honey," she told him, leaning down to kiss his forehead. "I know what you meant. You meant Samantha looks elegant and stunningly beautiful, didn't you?"

"Yeah!" Bud said, glad to have his thoughts translated so clearly. "And she's seriously hot, too!"

"Just like Mom," I added, glad to finally have a lever to pull in the conversation.

Bud suddenly looked aghast, as he realized what he had just confessed.

Jim knew better, but could not refrain from kibitzing. He said, "Way to go there, Bud. Get out of that one."

Bambi took a grip on Bud's hair and turned his head so he was looking up at her between her breasts. She asked, "So, you think Mommy is hot?"

Bud knew he had a 50/50 chance at the right answer and must have figured it would go worse for him if he tried to backpedal. "Yes!" he said, hopefully but with a hint of resignation in his voice.

"Thank you, honey," Bambi told him. "That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me." She bent down and kissed him on the cheek, leaving him with a bewildered expression.

I walked over and stood next to poor Bud. From atop my heels I seemed to be towering over his seated form. I thought briefly about leaning down to kiss him, but doing so would probably have resulted in me landing in his mashed potatoes. Instead, I swung one leg over him and sat down in his lap, straddling him with my breasts pressing his chest. One of them had popped out of my shirt, but at the moment, that wasn't a bad thing.

"So you really think I'm seriously hot?" I asked in a coy tone. I didn't need an answer to that. My naked pussy was pressed right on his stiffening cock. I could feel it trying to straighten out inside his nylon running-shorts. I rose up slightly to relieve the pressure and felt it come up right in line with my slit. I lowered myself back down and started a slow grind against him, my mouth open, my breath quickening, and my juices beginning to flow inside my pussy.

Bud seemed entranced by my lap-dance right here at the dinner table. He stared right into my eyes and said, "Unhunh." That silver-tongued stud had such a way with words.

I rubbed my breasts on his chest and pressed against him and kissed him deeply. When he kissed back, I moaned and sucked his tongue into my mouth, teasing it like it was the head of his cock. I ran my hands through his hair and then caressed his face and his firm chest. I stroked my left hand down between my legs and felt the hardness of his cock through his pants. It was rock-hard and almost sticking out of the waistband.

I decided to help it along and took hold of the waistband of his shorts and yanked down, exposing his huge shaft to my hot pussy. I dropped onto it and felt the heat of it as it slipped along my slit between my labia like a hot dog in a bun...

Bud took hold of my ass and stroked and squeezed my cheeks. I had thought he might resist at some point, since his brother, and more importantly, his mother were sitting right next to us, watching the festivities. I was wrong. Bud seemed willing to let this go as far as I wanted.

By now, what had begun as an act on my part was becoming very real indeed. I was astride Bud's huge cock and I was so hot that I was on the verge of impaling myself on it and fucking him right there at the dinner table. As I stroked and caressed his cock with my wet pussy-lips, I whispered in his ear, softly, so that only he could hear, "Oh, Bud. I'm so hot. I want your big cock in my pussy so bad. I want to feel your hard cock inside me. I want you to fuck me, Bud. I want you to fuck me hard and long and then I want you to cum in me and fill me up. Oh god, Bud. I can hardly wait until Friday night."

I went back to my own chair and sat down. I sipped my iced-tea and tried to cool off. I was very aware of my extended and sensitive nipples rubbing against the thin cloth of my shirt. It was all I could do to keep my hands off myself. I looked around and thought that if I had gone through with it and fucked Bud right then and there, everyone in the room would most certainly have cum along for the ride. I smiled into my tea and filed the idea away for some future time.

When everyone's breathing returned to normal, we ate our chicken, green beans, and mashed potatoes.

After supper, we all helped clean up. The kitchen was a real mess. Bambi had managed to get oil all over everything while frying the chicken. It looked like we were served the best pieces out of two or three batches. After it was all spick and span again we headed down to the family room.

On the way I caught Jim's sleeve and pulled him aside.

"Can I interest you in a lap dance, too?" I asked in as sultry a voice as I could manage. "We could even go someplace private if you like."

"Sam," he began, in a tone dripping with regret and apology, "as much as I want to, I'm going to have to ask for a rain-check on that."

"What?" I said, incredulously. Fooling around with his brother had got me really worked up and I had been hoping that I could get Jim to give me some much-needed relief. I wasn't so much offended at being turned down as curious about why. "Jim," I teased, "don't you think I'm sexy?" I stepped close and pressed my breasts against him as I stroked his cock through his shorts. He was still pretty stiff from watching the show at dinner.

"Please," he said, putting his hand over mine and halting my stroking. "I promised."

"You promised? You promised someone you wouldn't have sex with me?"

"With anyone. Not even jerking off."

I was nonplussed. I could make a good guess at who, and the what sounded very familiar, but I still wanted to hear it from Jim.

"Oh, Jim! That's so sweet! Can you tell me who? Is it anyone I know?"

He looked down at where I was still pressed against him and still had my hand on his cock, taking his pulse with my fingers. I let go and stepped back a bit.

"Yes," he said. "It's someone you know."

"Could it be someone with red hair who lives up the street?"

"Could be."

I suppose I had seen that coming. Or rather I had heard that one cumming since Sunday. Neeka and Jim seemed to be developing a relationship without me in the middle of it. I had brought them together, so I was responsible for any fire that those sparks had started. The least I could do was to help Jim keep his promise.

"OK," I said. "Far be it from me to interfere. I promise not to tease you. Well, not too much, anyway." As I backpedaled on my promise of non-interference, it occurred to me that the harder I made things for Jim, the harder I would be making him for Neeka. "If you want to save yourself for someone else, I think that's certainly your choice to make." I casually put one hand into my cleavage and began stroking my breast. I pulled my shirt open and started running a finger around my nipple, making it stand up and beg for more attention. "But that also makes keeping the cum in your balls your problem alone. And I certainly hope it does not mean that you will be avoiding me. After all, you've already proven that you can make me cum and still be true to your girlfriend."

"I guess." Jim seemed less than certain that he would be able to continue to play with me and not have to cum for me.

"Good!" I said, looking to get him to confirm his commitment. After all, I did not want him thinking he had to avoid me. I still needed his help and his companionship and right them I needed his hands on my breasts. I opened my shirt all the way and used both hands to get my nipples stiff. "Then we have an understanding. You and I can still play, but I won't try to make you break your promise. Fair warning, though; Neeka will find out if you slip up and cum. So keep a tight grip on those big balls of yours."

Jim relaxed enough to put his hands on my breasts and take over the massage for me. He tweaked and pulled my hard nipples, getting rougher and making me hotter as he did so. I leaned back against the doorjamb and started fingering my pussy as he manhandled my breasts.

The bit about Neeka knowing was 'fair warning' indeed. I had no doubt at all that the snoopy redhead was listening avidly to the whole conversation and enjoying every second of it. I heard the sound of giggling in my head that confirmed my assumption.

"How long are you going to torture the poor boy?" I thought, while the boy in question worked to stretch out my nipples.

"Until one of us can't stand it any longer." I heard her say. "He's still too deferential to me. I have to be the aggressor and I want him to need me so bad that he quits thinking of me as a someone to put on a damn pedestal and starts thinking of me as a girl who needs a good fucking."

"So you're trying to give him a case of testosterone poisoning to get him to the point where he will rape you?"

"You can't rape someone who's doing her best to get you to fuck her." She said. "I want him to need to cum so badly that he will tear off my clothes and screw my pussy as brutally as he's treating your boobs. By the way, that's really turning me on. I'd be afraid if he were doing it to me, but feeling it through you is incredible. It's just so primal, so animalistic to be treated that way. I'm glad you wouldn't let him avoid you on account of me. Thanks for helping me get him worked up."

"You like him so much that you are trying to change him? What does this sound like?"

Again I heard a giggle. "I guess it sounds like I'm serious about Jim. Now shut up and let me enjoy this."

Jim pulled and twisted both my nipples until he had them stretched out far enough that he could almost wrap them around his fingers. I had frigged my pussy so deep that my hands were covered with my juice. I was trying to stay on the verge of cumming without going over the edge. I wanted to see what Jim would do next to torture my breasts.

Jim twisted my nipples between his fingers and pulled up on them, lifting my breasts up in front of my face and forcing me to stand on my toes. This made my clit throb so hard that I had to take my hands away so I would not cum. I put my hands behind my back and interlaced my fingers. I pushed my hands as far down the crack of my butt as I could, forcing my shoulders back and lifting my breasts high on my chest.

Jim braced himself and squared his shoulders. I knew what he was about to do and I almost came from the anticipation. He squeezed my nipples tight and pushed up as though he was doing a standing press with a barbell. I thought he could press more than my paltry 100 pounds, and when I felt my feet leave the floor and my high heels drop away from them he proved it. The pain and pleasure streaking through my breasts would have made me scream if I had been able to breathe. Being suspended by my nipples was still my best trick and the one that gave me the biggest charge. It was easily the strongest, most overwhelming sensation I could imagine. I wanted to hang like that forever, shaking with pleasure and pain.

Lifting a dead weight like a barbell is different from holding a live girl by her nips and Jim could only hold me for a few seconds before he had to lower me to the floor. My legs almost collapsed under me and I fell back against the doorjamb to keep from falling all the way to the floor.

My face must have betrayed the disappointment I felt at being let down so soon, because Jim turned and opened a drawer in the hutch beside us and started rooting around in it. I waited patiently for him to find whatever he was after with my hands still locked behind me and my breasts raised for his attention.

When he turned from the drawer he had a small white plastic device in his hand and he was smiling. I did not recognize the device. It had a square opening on top about an inch wide and a knob on the side. Jim held it up so I could see into the opening and turned the knob. Inside were a set of plastic rollers with square teeth that meshed together.

"Garlic press," he said. "Sort of thing that accumulates in kitchen drawers. It doesn't do garlic worth a flip, but I bet it will do you very nicely." With that he held the device out so that my stretched, drooping nipple was hanging into the hopper of the device. He looked me right in the eyes and turned the knob.

The rollers grabbed my sensitive nipple and pulled it between them, brutally crushing my flesh. I gasped and my head snapped back. The intensity of the sensation seared through my brain like a bolt of electricity through a condemned prisoner in the electric chair. Jim turned the knob again and the little device ate more of my nipple. It felt like it was chewing it and mashing it to a pulp. Again the sensation shot through me, just as powerful as before. I must have cum somewhere during this experience, but I can't remember anything but the pain of having my nipple crushed. Jim turned the knob a third time and I felt the rest of my nipple go through the rollers and felt the little hopper press against the swell of my breast.