Some New 'Family Members'

You have just gotten home from your first day at the national guard base just outside 'Millennium' proper. As you open the door you see your children siting around a red haired woman of about 21 years who you don't recognize that is reading them a story, her voice having the distinct lilt and cadence of South Western Ireland. "Children, go greet your mother." She says as you drop your brand new rucksack and hang up the keys to the mini-van on the hooks by the door.

All your kids jump up and run over to you hugging you around the waist and shouting "Welcome Home!", while the stranger rises from her chair and comes over also.

"Hello kids, wont you introduce me to our guest?" You ask, as the woman closes the distance and extends a hand. She is wearing a t-shirt and jeans, the t-shirt stretchy but too tight clearly outlining her firm B-to-C-cup tits, which you can see from the outline she has in a B-cup bra, apparently liking things tight rather than loose.

It is your youngest, Easter, who makes the introductions. "This is Africa, which means 'Agreeable' in Gaelic, not like the continent!" She declares proudly.

"Hello Africa, a pleasure to meet you." You say, extending your hand and shaking hers, but a bit worried. "Please don't take offense, but what are you doing in our house?" You query puzzled. Like almost all residences in 'Millennium' the door can only be opened with a palm scan or a fire-department override card.

"And you as well." She says before answering your question. "They didn't tell you?" She seems puzzled but forges ahead. "I am your new live in Nanny, and I am here to keep the children company while you are at work." She explains, and now you are VERY worried. You suddenly understand why the top level of your three story Condo has EIGHT normal and two master bedrooms, and it's not so you can use some as computer and sewing rooms and still have guests over! They are probably setting things up so they can deploy you to Afghanistan, there are a lot of supers on the side of the Islamic Fundamentalists, and you will be damned if you are going to let them take you away from your kids!

"Who ELSE have they brought into our house?" You ask suspiciously, but 'Africa' merely smiles and says: “Children, let's go into the kitchen so your mother can meet everyone.” Confirming your worst fears.

In the kitchen you see three more individuals, two women sitting at the kitchen table sipping tea, while a young man in a chef’s outfit stands at the stove cooking grilled cheese sandwiches. One of the two women is in her 30s, much of an age with you, Caucasian though of no distinct subtype, has a serious expression permanently imprinted on her features, and is wearing a gray business suit. The other is Asiatic, most likely Chinese to be more specific, is probably around 20 years old if you had to judge, though it's harder with people outside your own ethnicity, and Asians in particular as they often age more gracefully. She is wearing, and you can hardly credit it but it's true, a french maid's outfit, though the kind that would be worn by a real maid not glorified lingerie, and is drinking green rather than black tea.

The woman with the serious expression stands and leans over the table extending a hand. “Mrs. Alex V. Johanas, I presume?” She says as you shake her hand gingerly. “I am Mrs. Kelly Williams, your children's new Governess and Tutor, along with Miss Africa O'Connor, whom you have already met, I will be responsible for their mental and emotional well being, while Miss Chen Mei-Lien and Chef Joseph Wolf-Heart will be seeing to their physical well being. You of course will continue to have guidance over all areas and be the primary caregiver for spiritual matters.” She explains, indicating each individual one by one.

“You know our names, our REAL names?” You ask, fairly alarmed.

“As you know ours. Rest assured, we understand the need for secrecy, for the same reasons, except perhaps your children and I will make quite sure that it's importance is impressed upon them.” 'Mrs Williams' states sitting back down and sipping her tea again.

“Oh, oh I see!” You state, as the situation suddenly dawns on you. Of course there would be supers who didn't want to go into 'super hero' work, or who's powers were completely unsuited to it, and of course the M.H.M.D. Would find them work that DID suit their talents, such as, for example, a person who's 'power' was that they were preternaturally good with children becoming the live in nanny for a FAMILY of supers who's mother was out of the picture and father on active national guard duty, therefore being out of the house most of the day: or, in the same vein, a woman whose 'gift' was to be the best teacher on earth becoming the tutor for said family, since the children could no longer go to a normal school and the government wanted them to get a good education any way, lest they turn to crime when they couldn’t find jobs as adults...

This still leaves you worried that the brass are setting things up to send you over seas, but Mrs Kelly's comment about your being their 'primary caregiver for spiritual matters' allays that somewhat. It may be in the works but she wouldn't have said that if SHE knew about it.

It is with that cheerful thought that you turn your attention to more immediate matters. “Chef Joseph, what's the ETA on dinner?” You query, and catch yourself starring at his tightly toned ass. ~I used to be straight, where is this coming from?~ You wonder, tearing your eyes away from the VERY sexy 6'4” and ripped Amerind chef making a mountainous platter of grilled cheese and huge pot of tomato soup.

“Actually just finishing the last one now.” He replies in a deliberately restrained bass voice, and starts ladling the soup into large soup mugs, and flipping the last sandwich onto a cutting board and slicing it from corner to corner both ways. “I'm afraid we don’t have a table for the dining room yet so everyone who is not one of the children or their governess gets to eat standing up.” He says handing out the mugs of soup and putting the platter of sandwiches onto the table. “Bonn Appetite!” He states when everyone has their food, whereupon you all dig into said food with gusto.