Chapter 29: Briana (atop the Overlook)

A petite blonde with long, bushy hair and very perky boobs was silently working through what seemed to be a hybrid cheerleading-dance routine. Her tan lines stood out starkly and her lithe body froze Anita in her tracks.

After throwing herself over the lip of the cliff and onto the plateau which comprised its summit, Anita sprawled inelegantly in the dirt. Actually, she realized, it was more of a fine white powder that felt really good to roll around in like a kitten with too much energy.

It did not take much for Anita to become covered head-to-toe with the nearly white dirt. As if camouflaged, she lay in the dirt and watched the little girl run though an amazing routine that entailed swinging from the limbs of a gnarled tree at the cliff, with running and jumping and a little dirt-rolling herself.

“Surprised to see someone new up here,” she said as she went through her moves. “You related to one of Susan’s bunheads?”

“I’m with the Childers now,” Anita said, And as if on cue, Stacy appeared at the completion of an insanely difficult back-flip onto the plateau, finishing in a perfect ballet pose.

“Oh, hi Stace,” said the girl casually, even as she did a parallel bars dismount from the gnarled branch of a tree in a small grove filling one corner of what now appeared to Anita as a parking overlook Of course. Duh! she thought.

“Who’s the new dog?” she asked Stacy as if Anita had no voice.

Anita, while new to slavery, understood the slight and allowed Stacy to speak for her.

“Hey, McCormick,” Stacy said in a dismissive tone. “Anita was hand-picked by Master to be part of our family, so that makes her far more important than a beginner.”

“But you’re really good,” Anita joined in, aware of her nudity and how dirty she was for the first time. But up here, along with two equally nude girls, it did not seem to matter.

“McCormick here is one of our talented and dedicated little junior dancers,” Stacy said as she approached the smaller, younger girl. “One day, they’ll be the best dancers Susan Castle has ever taught. But they’re not there yet, are you??

“We like being challenged. We’re at the right place to learn,” said the young girl defensively. “It’ll be our time.”

“But right now?” Stacy responded.

“It’s your time mistress,” she said bowing her head.

“Really?” Anita whispered.

“Show Anita your hands,” Stacy said, pointing. “Go ahead, hold them up.”

“Aw, no! Not my hands,” Brianna said, folding them against her breasts fearfully. “Why my hands?”

“Nothing hands. Just hold them up, show them to Anita,” said Stacy, who by now had found her way to the edge of the shady grove. She swung up into the lower branches of one tree like a monkey and suddenly was reclining on a remarkable, living piece of furniture not unlike a hammock.

Brianna shyly extended them out for Anita to inspect: pretty, perfect nails, layers of callouses, four fingers, thumb. Anita looked up, puzzled.

“What am I missing?” she asked as she grasped Brianna’s hands.

“Just the magic word,” Stacy laughed.

“Brace yourself, new dog,” said the girl.

Stacy suddenly turned serious and spoke a trigger she had set up with her father in the earliest hours of their collaboration.

“#Birdinthejuniorhand,” she said, slight tremble in her voice.

Brianna’s moan came a split second before Anita noticed the change beginning in the girl’s hands and arms. It looked as though the bones had dissolved, even as her skin firmed up and developed ridges and bumps along her wrists.

Anita’s first impulse was to recoil in horror, but she had an instant recognition as the to miracle that was literally taking place in the girl’s hands. But only now did she look down to see what she was feeling, and it was obvious now that she was grasping a pair of male cocks attached to the arms – no, replacing the arms of this petite teenager.

Brianna had changed. Her makeup free face was now accented by pouty red lips and some kind of natural eyeliner. She gazed unblinking at Anita, a slight biting of her lower lip the only indication of the strange arousal that grew within her.

“Why, will you look at that,” Anita said, holding Brianna’s left appendage higher for inspection. It now had no resemblance to a human hand or arm. It was, Anita could clearly see, a semi-firm, VERY long male cock – something which she had just become acquainted.

“You know what to do with it!” Stacy shouted as she sat up in her hammock. Anita looked Brianna squarely in the eye as she took the end of her left appendage into her mouth.

“Deeper! Deeper!” Stacy shouted. Anita complied, her lips passing what used to be Brianna’s wrist, farther and farther down her throat. “Now pump it!”

Both girls’ eyes grew wide at {i]that sensation, and their tandem effort was taken to the next level when each girl let a generous amount of their drool that lubricated Anita’s intensifying stroke. Soon Brianna’s appendage had grown twice as thick around as Anita’s own arm, but it was easily being taken down the throat of the other girl. Anita got on all fours to better co-ordinate her thrusts with Brianna’s.

Stacy watched wordlessly, frigging herself as she reclined, until one solid thrust by Brianna pushed Anita’s lips past what was once her elbow.

“Time to join this party,” Stacy said in a moan, hopping down and taking Brianna’s other appendage between her legs with only a minimum of difficulty, shoving it all the way inside to an equal depth.

“Okay, Brianna, pump both your arms like you’ve been programmed,” Stacy shouted. “Pump it in me. Pump ME-E-E-E-E AH-H-H-H-H!”

Tiny testicles replaced lymph nodes in Tina’s torso and were firing on all cylinders just as both girls were getting their openings filled and their outsides were getting flush with the rush of blood.

“Brianna, girl you got skills!” Stacy gasped through the orgasm that was currently engulfing her. Anita, her throat filled, nodded in agreement.

“She can’t answer,” Stacy gasped as she felt her own orgasm rising. “When they’re in Provider mode, they have no voice.”

Anita glanced into the girls’ eyes, instantly confirming this. But something else struck her. She slid the cock out of her mouth and between her legs as easily as Stacy.

“Who’s ‘they?’” she asked as she grabbed and squeezed Stacy’s shoulders for leverage.

“The junior dancers,” Stacy laughed. “They’re finally good for something besides elves and fairies when we dance the Nutcracker.”

“Is that right, kid?” Anita asked as she looked into two deep blue eyes. “This give you a purpose – aahh!”

Brianna knew she was doing her job well for her mistress and her friend. She winked.

In the afterglow of their session, the girls lay in the shade of the grove as their energy quickly returned. But Anita’s fascination over the transformation of the youngest girl led Stacy to decide to keep Brianna in the Provider mode long enough to closely examine what changes occurred.

Brianna was out of her excited state for the moment, and her twin cock-arms were at rest across her legs looking like a matched set of two-foot long cocks. She looked ahead expectantly, her impatience apparent in her eyes.

“Can you suck yourself off?” Anita asked.

Brianna shook her head, gesturing towards her mouth which almost seemed grafted shut at close inspection.

“Fuck yourself?” Anita persisted.

Brianna gave what passed for a grin and quickly and easily slid her right appendage between her legs and immediately began a slow, steady thrust.

“But here’s the really sneaky part,” Stacy whispered. “#Juniorbirdhasflown.”

By virtue of overriding the trigger phrase, Brianna was now literally fisting herself. But seeing her wasn’t the first giveaway.

“OH JESUS CHRIST!” Brianna screamed her first words in over an hour, not slowing her pace but clearly hammering her own pussy with her own right hand.

“Wiggle your fingers,” Anita offered.

“Mmph!”

“That doesn’t hurt her, does it?” Anita asked. “I mean, stretching herself inside?”

“All of the juniors have been put through their paces,” Stacy shrugged “Just a matter of being experienced ... Now, flex your hand.”

“OH MY GOD!” Brianna cried.

“Geezus, Brianna! Could hear you halfway down the hill!” shouted a new voice from across the small landing. “Wow! Giving yourself a hilltopper, huh?”

A pale, scrawny girl riding a scaled-down 10-speed bike had just topped the crest on the old entry road to the park – a road supposedly only passable currently for four-wheel drive vehicles.

“That’s the illusion that we’d put up,” Stacy said, as if reading Anita’s mind. “Kind of insures total privacy short of a TV chopper.”

“Getting kinda crowded up here, isn’t it?” Anita whispered.

“No. That’s Darcy, another one of the juniors,” Stacy said with a shrug. “She’s been programmed the same way. This place is sort of our clubhouse now.”

“I get the climbing part,” Anita said, stretching her legs out in anticipation of the upcoming descent. “But for you to have a clubhouse, don’t you actually have to a building, or something?”

“We’ll have one. Right there,” Stacy pointed at dirt mound that formed the crest. “It’s pretty amazing. It’s being built into the landscape after several glorified shacks had literally been blown off the mountain.”

As they approached the mound, just by the roadway, the dirt turned out to be a roof looking much like an igloo. But it was the top of a what was rapidly becoming a full-service clubhouse/sanctuary for the newly empowered dancers. There was a well-anchored temporary building already in place, mostly below ground, for those who wanted some solo weight work.

“What brings you all the way up here?” Stacy said. “I know what kind of effort it requires to ride that bike up this mountain.”

“Looking for you,” Darcy replied as she carefully put her bike in a secure parking stand. “I wanted to hear it straight; who did we have to blackmail to get my sister back at the studio?”

“Cassie and Nicky Moore both,” Stacy confirmed, but talking to Anita by means of explanation. “We realized that what Susan accused them of is nothing compared to how the squad is behaving now in terms of curiosity and exploration. Or what Susan herself did when she was younger. It’s all good.”

“That’s so cool!” Darcy said as she pulled off her top and shorts and threw them in a locker bearing her name. “But let’s be real clear about one thing. Cassie and Nicky weren’t ‘experimenting, ‘ or ‘curious.’ They were fucking each other, OK? They were fucking each other’s brains out on a more-or-less daily basis.”

Darcy moved to the first in a series of new training devices that allowed the ultra flexible to work on strength as well as their unique skills set. She lifted her right leg far above her head and into a hand-hold grip. Fixed to 150 pounds in dead weight, she deftly pulled her leg all the way to the floor.

Brianna spotted her workout station with a hand firmly on Darcy’s pussy, middle finger inserted.

“True enough,” Stacy said. “Everybody played along to make sure that Ms. Castle didn’t blow a gasket over them. Pretty ironic, huh?”

“I’m just glad,” Darcy said as she slid easily over to the next station. “Miz Castle seems like she’s just as messed up as the rest of us now.”

“She probably always was,” Stacy said, maxing out the curls machine as she burned though 10 high speed reps. “But when you’re 60, what can you do except do someone else who’s 60?”

“Not her problem now,” Stacy said. “Between Missy and Maria, she’s getting more than a Vegas hooker.”

“And we have one of those living with us now,” Anita said as she strained against the maximum weight of a pullover machine.

“You, new dog?” Brianna asked, pointing at Anita with the thumb.

“No, she just a retired cheerleader. And Audrey’s not a hooker. She’s a porn star,” Stacy said. “Big difference.”

“You’ll have to explain that one to me,” Darcy said. “Seems to me, Cassie was both, or one or the other at different times, while she was in that city.”

“Generalize much?” Stacy said, exasperated. “She and Nicky were dancers, on the stage. You know, spotlights, an audience. Hookers charge extra for an audience and porn stars hate them.”

“You sure know an awful lot about it,” said Brianna.

“I try to listen in when Dad is on the phone,” Stacy said. “So sue me.”

And as I sat along in my living room down at the bottom of the plateau, I tried to listen to everything Stacy said or did. It was a connection she only barely had an awareness of; we connected when she went on her dickgirl weekend and it never went away. I was glad, because it was as much to keep her out of harm’s way as anything. I simply sat and stared at the rock formation as I listened in. But I was starting to get a little bored of all the girl talk when my phone rang.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” I heard Liz say. “But I ... I think I’m finished. All 25 of the stories,” she said excitedly. “I’ve never worked so fast. And it looks good. Shit, it looks great!”

“I’m sorry, you have the wrong number,” I deadpanned. “No, Liz! Don’t hang up. Just messing with you. What you need to do next it organize everything, have it packed and cataloged and we need to get the pale angel out here to set things in motion.”

“Althea is no angel,” Liz said. “At least, if the stories she’s told when we were drunk are truth, she’s hell on wheels.”

“As long as she does her job, she can be hell on a tricycle,” I said.

“What does that even mean?” Liz laughed. “What a stupid saying that is.”

I had to laugh at myself. This was good and getting better.

29. Althea Channing: Hell On Wheels

Her legs were long. Her heels were high. Her pale skin almost seemed translucent.

Althea Channing turned every head in the airport concourse as she strode through, her carry-on bag rolling behind her. The fact she was wearing a sweater dress that only barely covered her ass didn’t help. But in New York, these were called “work clothes.”

Here in Podunk – excuse me, “Bakersfield/Daytown,” she said aloud – they were clothes only a what?

“Only a person who got on the wrong flight,” she told herself. Why she talked to herself so much, she didn’t know. Perhaps it was the only way she could have an intelligent conversation. Speaking of which – she hit No. 1 on her speed dial.

“Welcome to California, blondie,” I said. “You made good time – assuming you’re actually here.”

“I’m here and expecting a goddam ride,” she said in her distinct accent, raising her voice like I knew she would. “How long do I get to stand around your beautiful airport waiting for you?”

“Depends on how much local ambiance you want to take in,” I said. “Turn around.”

Best part of Althea Channing is you can tell when she’s blushing – and this was one of those times.

“Oh!” she hung her head and pocketed her phone. “Hello, Lawrence Childers, my favorite writer of children’s dreck.”

“And you’re my favorite con artist,” I said, hugging the delectable blonde. She even smelled like English roses.

“No, this time, it’s got be you conning me,” she said, her blue eyes flashing. “You’ve written 25 stories? No way.”

“Not stories,” I grinned. “Books. I’ve written 25 books. And I’ve got 2-3 more in my head that I will do this weekend while Liz is still here.”

“I can’t wait to see that wrinkled old bitch,” Althea grinned.

“Then you’re going to be sorely disappointed,” I said as we stepped out into the loading zone. A tanned, sexy young girl sat on the hood of a town car that seemed to be waiting for someone.

“That’s a pretty enticing welcome to California – if you’re into that sort of thing,” Althea said, walking past.

“What kind of ‘thing’ am I?” Liz said as she hopped down. “You were right, Larry. I owe him 10 bucks because he said you wouldn’t recognize me.”

“What? Wait ... you’re not... Liz!“ Althea said, then squealed with belated recognition. The two women hugged like old friends, even though I was their only common denominator. They were talking over one another, so much so that there was no way they could have understood a word the other was saying. Time to bind.

“We’ve got plenty of room,” I said. “Everybody in the front seat.”

First Liz, then Althea climbed in as I put her bag – which weighed a ton – into the trunk. While I was standing behind the town car, I pulled out my cell phone and activated the instructions I pre-loaded earlier that day. By the time I opened the driver’s door, Liz and Althea were embraced in an open-mouthed kiss like the lovers they weren’t.