Chapter 17: Day Two

Before he’d even arrived home from the Pact meeting, Chuck Arnovsky decided he was going to take his new, improved family to the lake. Not Lake Concordia ... no, all the way up in the mountains, where the water was clean, clear and cold and where they’d know no one unless they desired it.

A small but remarkably blue lake appeared in their windshield as a the day neared sunset, so the Arnovsky camper pulled into a designated parking place in time to break out some steaks for dinner. As he fired up his grill, his women came out one at a time to his approving gaze.

His fabulous wife, Joanie, whose boobs now needed their own zip code, stepped out in all her topless glory; a macro command made his family’s nudity acceptable anywhere they might be. Wearing her favorite tight jeans, Joanie began setting up the spread on the accompanying picnic table.

“You’re sure we’re OK? Topless all over the beach? Don’t see anyone else yet,” she asked as she laid out the plates. His snort passed for an affirmative answer.

“Maybe we’ll change all that,” snickered Todd, stepping out of the RV like Brooke Burke on the red carpet. He continued to evolve more and more into her double at age 19, but remained 100 percent Todd inside. “Hey, Miss, did you bring your ball glove?”

“Oh, yeah,” said his sister, unchanged physically but wearing the skimpiest shorts imaginable – a dancer’s benefit, to be sure. “Been wanting to unlimber the arm for a while.”

“This should be an interesting test of Master PC’s strength and controls,” he said. “I added a lot of arm strength and skill to them, so they should be able to toss a ball around like big leaguers.”

“I feel the same,” Todd said.

“You practiced any?” his dad asked.

“Nope. No time,” Todd admitted. “I’ve been getting makeup tips from all the other dancers all week.”

“I was over at Miss Castle’s all week,” Missy said. “You know, babysitting.”

Todd/Brooke wore the bottoms of a bauble-studded blue-and-white bikini. Missy pulled off her shorts to reveal a stark white thong that left nothing to the imagination. Both wore cross-trainers to remain sure-footed. They stepped off a good 100 feet between them before they began firing a baseball – not softball – crisply to one another. As part of his repayment to his son for the unforgivable fuck-up of losing his template, Chuck made sure Todd had the skills of no less than a Class AA professional player, but made sure Missy’s skill level matched him.

Like major leaguers in spring training, the two eye-catching girls effortlessly fired and caught the baseball, gradually moving farther apart. And people took notice.

Among them was an assistant coach from Cal State Fullerton, Devon Molloy. At first, she leered at the “no-tell” nudity that was rapidly spreading through the site. But the unmistakable “pop” of a ball hitting a mitt at high speed caught her trained ears.

At that particular moment, she and CSF left fielder Tina Kawakami, a thoroughly toned athlete, were sunning themselves and debating a) whether or not to start a relationship and b) the sudden urge to remove their tops.

“I say yes! Fuck it, your pussy tastes like pineapple,” Devon said as she lay propped up on her elbows.

“Heard that before,” Tina teased. “But it’s actually papaya. I eat that stuff by the pound, and the flavor goes straight to my pussy.”

For effect, she slid her finger under her sweaty bikini, into her smooth snatch, withdrew it and sampled herself.

“Oh, yeah!” she said. “Dessert is served.”

“Better served with a little whipped cream, I say ... SHIT! What was that?” Devon sat straight upright.

“Dunno. Sat on a scorpion maybe?” Tina, who was stoned before hitting the beach, answered lazily. Then, “Whoa! I heard that, too!.”

The sound of Missy’s 90 MPH fastball popping Todd’s mitt, pushed her brother to ramp up his return throw. Aware that more of the campers were not paying attention, he whipped a throw of similar speed in return. For good measure, he tugged at his bikini bottoms.

“Did that girl just throw that baseball?” Tina, now wide awake and pulling her sunglasses down, asked a studious Devon.

“Yeah, and that girl caught it!” she replied, pointing at Todd, who had no fear of letting a fastball strike one of his/her boobs.

“Deep fly!” Todd yelled after returning the throw. Missy nodded and sent one soaring into the blue sky. Todd, boobs only slightly bouncing as he ran under control, easily tracked it down and returned it with a perfect one-hopper after a 180-degree pivot.

“Throw me one,” Todd heard a voice behind him, from the edge of the camping area. Joanie, who had long enjoyed joining her kids in athletic pursuits, held up her glove. Missy expertly threw a strike to her mom, who didn’t flinch when it popped into her glove near her ear. She then took a little bit of a running start before firing a missle to Todd nearly 300 feet away. For good measure, he caught it behind his/her back.

Devon was already on speed dial.

“Coach! I’m seeing something I’m not believing!” she hissed. “No, I’m not drunk. Well, maybe a little. But that has nothing to do with this! Tina and I stopped at that lake you know about to work some things out, but there’s a girl out here who’s a dead ringer for that chick on the Wild On show ... who was that, Tina?”

“Brooke Burke!” Tina said in a stage whisper.

“ ... Brooke Burke,” Devon said certainty.

“Coach, that’s actually her. It’s got to be,” Tina blurted into the cell phone. “Un-fucking believable.”

“Can’t be her. Coach says she’s pushing 40 these days and has four kids,” Devon said after a moment. “I’d lay odds she’s a relative, though.”

“Wonder if she can hit,” Tina said, excitement in her voice.

“Why don’t you go and ask her, twit?” Devon said with a shrug.

Slipping her flats on and pulling on a UCF t-shirt, Tina began a wandering, indirect walk towards Todd, who’d just caught a throw between his legs. She was surprised to find that, up close, Todd’s resemblance to Brooke Burke was even more unsettling. But the fearless competitor in her did not allow her to falter from her mission.