We'll get to that in a bit. Let's say hi to our new Roommates!

“Whoa!” Louise couldn’t help herself. This so-called cabin was considerably nicer than she had thought it would be. She could see what had bothered Grace at first as well. It was definitely bigger on the inside. As her eyes adjusted to the darker interior, Louise saw a couple of packages sitting on the king-sized bed. Predictably, one had her name on it. Opening the package, she received a copy of the note that was included in every package. Also inside the box were a pair of black knee pads, akin to what she had seen some kids on skateboards wearing on TV once. “Ha fucking Ha. Real funny, Sage.”

“What?” Jane had walked in behind Louise. Louise turned to show Jane her knee pads. Jane snorted. “I’m sorry. This is so fucked up and so wrong, but knee pads? Seriously?”

Louise grimaced. “I’d like to tell that smug bitch what I think about them. But I can’t get what she did to Hillary out of my mind. So, I guess I’ll take the knee pads and be thankful it wasn’t something worse. What’d you get?

Jane picked up her box. It was about an eight inch cube. She lightly shook it and something thumped inside the box. “Well, it’s kind of heavy, so I don’t think it’s knee pads”, she joked. Inside the box, Jane discovered her copy of Sage’s note along with a pair of binoculars and a book about birdwatching. “No fucking way! How the fuck did she do this?”

“What?”, Louise asked. From the tone of Jane’s voice, the package’s contents had generated some kind of emotional response. Louise was still unsure whether that was a pleasant or unpleasant thing.

“When I was a kid, I would go birdwatching with my grandfather. At first, I went just to get out of the house. My step mom and I never really got along. As I got older, and my grandfather got sick to the point where he couldn’t go, I would come back and tell him about what I saw. I haven’t been since he died.” Jane frowned. “I’m not sure how I feel about them dredging up a memory like that in a setting like this.”

“At least it wasn’t a reminder that they expect you to suck dick all the time”, Louise groused. Jane snorted again.

“I’m sorry. I really am. I don’t mean to laugh and I don’t want you to think I don’t take this seriously. It’s just… When I was a rookie, my old sergeant made me take a dead body call. It wasn’t a **** or anything like that. Just some poor old bastard who died and didn’t have anyone to check on him. Neighbor called when the smell was unmistakable. After we got him in the body bag and were carrying the body down to the funeral home’s van, one of the paramedics asked if it was heavy. Without blinking, my sergeant said, ‘Nah. It’s just dead weight.’ And everybody started laughing.“ Louise looked scandalized. Jane nodded. “Exactly. That was my reaction too. I waited until we were back at the station and I told him that with all due respect that he was an asshole. He laughed and pointed out that there was no way to respectfully call someone an asshole. But then he got in my face and told me something that I haven’t forgotten.”

“Listen here new girl”, he growled. “We see the worst of what people do to each other. Nobody calls the police to report that everything is A-OK. They only call us when they have no other choice because everything is irreparably fucked. Naturally, this will fuck with your head. You will start to see the worst in everyone and everything. The way I survive, and the way most of us survive is to laugh at it. Your friends with ‘normal’ jobs won’t get it. Some will tell you that you need help. You should probably make friends with a therapist. They’re cheaper than divorce, I’ll tell you that. But the point is, black humor is how we cope. And before you get your panties further in a wad, I mean dark humor, not that racist bullshit. I can find enough reasons to dislike someone on an individual basis, thank you very much. So, you better learn to laugh at shit, or it’s gonna kill you.”

“And so I have. And he was right. At least for me. I have dealt with some of the most awful people doing the most awful things to each other. And at the end of the shift? You know what we do? We make jokes about it. Because it hurts too much to carry that shit around without letting it out. So, allll of that to say, I’m sorry. For all of us stuck here. For laughing at inappropriate shit. It’s a coping mechanism.”

Louise stood silently. “You know, Dave never talked about anything you’ve just mentioned. I’d ask about work and he’d say ‘Fine’ or ‘Busy’ and leave it at that. I knew there was more to it. You know, I thought he was sleeping with you at one point?”

“What?!?”, Jane exclaimed. “I have a zero tolerance policy for fishing off the company pier. No way would I sleep with my partner. Or any cop. I wanna hear about a fucking good day at work!”

“Oh I know!”, Louise responded. “I came to the realization that he wasn’t cheating on my with you. I just thought it was with someone else…”

“Is that why you divorced him? You have any idea how much that fucked him up?”

“I know now. And I know it’s too late, but I’m sorry about how it happened. I’m not sorry for divorcing him though. I think we got married too young. But I regret some of the decisions I made during the court proceedings.”

“Yeah. You fucked him all right. And not in the good way”, Jane responded. “I think he could have handled the divorce. But the way you went about it fucking did a number on him. I’m trying to remind myself that we’ve got bigger fish to fry, but there was a time, I’d have kicked you square in your lady garden for what you did to him.”

“I know.”, Louise whispered. “And now we’re on this horrible show with that horrible… “

“Bitch”, supplied Jane.

“Yes”, agreed Louise. “And I just know she’s trying to set me up as the bad guy. It’s not fair!”

“But weren’t you kinda the bad guy?”, Jane asked. “I mean, she’s not wrong, is she?”

“That’s not the point!”, Louise replied.

“Then what is?”, Jane asked.

Louise sighed and collapsed on the bed. “I don’t even know at this point. I keep waiting to wake up and find out that this was a bad dream.”

“Yeah, well I wouldn’t hold your breath”, Jane said. She skimmed the note from her package. “I’m gonna get a shower and change, I guess. You want to go first or second?”

“You go ahead”, Louise said. I don’t feel like doing much of anything right now.

“You got it”, said Jane. She put the binoculars and book on her nightstand and opened up the dresser drawers. “Fuck me. What kind of perverted camp has this for uniforms?”

She held up the uniform to show Louise. “Why am I not surprised?”, Louise asked. “At least we can wear shirts. Poor Hill… I wonder how she’s doing?”

“Probably wondering if she can get Grace to milk her.” The words were out of Jane’s mouth before she could stop them. “Fuck! Sorry. It’s like I have no control over my fucking mouth!”

“S’fine”, said Louise. “You see how uncomfortable she looked? God I hope that doesn’t happen to me.”

“No shit. OK. I’ll be out in a few.” And with that, Jane disappeared into the bathroom.

As Louise lay on the bed, she groped for where the knee pads had fallen on the bed. She picked them up and examined them. Suddenly, a text box filled her vision.

Enchanted Knee Pads of the Sacred Skin Flute – These stylish knee pads are a must-have for the fellatrix on the go! Once equipped, they will permanently become part of the wearer. They will be invisible and intangible to the rest of the world, including the wearer. When the wearer of these enchanted knee pads goes to their knees, they will find the position to be extremely comfortable and will be able to maintain that position indefinitely in comfort.

Hidden Effect – The wearer of these knee pads will gradually become addicted to others’ cum.

Louise stared at the knee pads in shock. No way. No fucking way! Her mind refused to make sense of what she had just read. Somehow, by reading that description, her situation suddenly became much more real. I have got to talk to Dave. Make him understand. Maybe if I apologize and sign over what I got in the divorce he’ll let me go! But Louise knew she was chasing a pipe dream. At first, she had believed with every fiber of her being that this was some sick act that her ex-husband was in on. Hillary had told her to expect some kind of backlash in the months after the divorce. But Louise had seen his face. She had read his body language. She knew him. He wasn’t acting. This wasn’t his idea. He was stuck here just like she was. Yeah, except nobody’s giving him knee pads so he can suck dick better. The bitter thought refused to be banished. Fuck Sage! If she’s so concerned about Dave getting his dick sucked, then she can have these fucking things! And with that thought, Louise threw them at the wall.

Unfortunately for Louise, her aim was awful and the next thing she heard was, “Hey! What the shit?”, coming from the open bathroom door.

Jane walked out with a towel wrapped around her torso. “What was that for?”, she demanded, holding up the knee pads.

“Shit. I’m sorry”, Louise apologized. “I was just so upset. I wasn’t looking where I was throwing. Are you ok?”

“Nah. I’m good. It mainly just scared the shit outta me”, Jane replied. “Here”, she said, holding out the pads. Suddenly, she stiffened and dropped them. “What the fuck was that?!?”

“What was what?”, Louise asked.

“Some box of text floated up off of those knee pads. I saw ‘something something’ Skin Flute. And at the bottom it said ‘LOUISE ONLY’ before I dropped it. What the fuck is that?”

Sighing, Louise got off the bed and picked the knee pads up. Sitting back down on the bed, she stared at them and then read the description to Jane.

“That’s kinda fucked up, right?”, Jane asked. “I mean, it’s kinda thoughtful, but it’s only thoughtful because they expect you to be –“

“I Know!”, Louise interrupted. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to yell. Yeah. It’s fucked up.”

“So are you gonna put them on?”, Jane asked.

“Am I going to WHAT?”, Louise replied.

“I mean, think about it. Does Sage strike you as anything remotely like emotionally stable? Does she seem like one of those girls who will get their feelings hurt if you don’t tell them that they’re your bestest friend EVAR when they give you some generic fucking scented candle? Or do you think she’ll be OK if you throw her personalized gift in the trash. And I have no doubts that she’ll know if you do.” Jane tapped her chin. “I think you might want to put them on. And if that description is right, you’ll never know they’re there, right?”

“I’ll know they’re there”. Louise muttered. She sat staring at her hands and the objects she held and let out a sigh. “But I don’t think you’re wrong. That bitch has Single White Female written all over her.” Sighing, Louise began pulling one of the pads up her left leg. Jane watched with interest. It was the strangest thing. Louise was pulling a black plastic-looking knee pad up her shin. And then up to her knee. And then over her knee. And then… her hands were holding nothing.

“Whoa. Trippy”, Jane said. Walking forward, she rapped Louise on the knee.

“Ow! What was that for?” Louise yelled.

“Oh shit! Sorry! It’s just… You put on knee pads. I thought they’d protect your uhh… knees?” Jane ended her sentence with a questioning tone.

“That’s not how they work, remember? It’s only when I’m ON my knees that they do anything.” Louise sighed and flexed her knee. “I can’t even feel the one I just put on. I guess I might as well put the other one on.” So saying, Louise did just that. Standing up, she looked at Jane. “Might as well try them out.”

Louise took a couple of steps away from the bed and settled to her knees in front of Jane. “Huh. This really IS pretty comfortable. I honestly don’t know what to think.”

Jane blushed. “You don’t have to uh.. I mean… If you’re not comfortable doing this…” Jane began to un-tuck her towel.

“What the fuck?!?” Louise bolted to her feet. “Did you think I was… that I would… with a WOMAN? With YOU?”

“Oh fuck me”, Jane moaned. She prayed that the ground would swallow her up. “That fucking transformation. Fuck! I am sorry. Fuck am I sorry! I don’t know what’s happening to me.” Jane fought unsuccessfully to banish the thought of holding Louise by the hair as she was on her knees feasting on Jane’s pussy. Jane would look down and see hunger in the other woman’s eyes. She could imagine what it would feel like as Louise’s moans vibrated against her lower lips and clit. How Louise would use one hand to maul her own breast while the other was occupied between her own legs. How Louise would lean back to take a breath before diving back in, her face shiny with Jane’s wetness… Get it together! She’s not into chicks! Neither were you until a little while ago a voice whispered in her mind. She might even like it. Sure, she’s a dentist, but I bet she still took anatomy. I bet she’d like YOUR anatomy. Jane shook her head and tried to ignore the urge to rub her thighs together. It wouldn’t do to let Louise know just how turned on the thought had made her.

“I’m going to go shower. Alone.” And with that, Louise grabbed a change of clothes and rushed into the bathroom. “Where’s the door?”, she called out.

“There isn’t one”, replied Jane.

“Just great. Please don’t take this the wrong way, but please don’t look”, Louise said.

“I won’t”, Jane said. Although now that Louise had said it, Jane was unable to banish the thought of Louise, naked in the shower. Water running down her body. Droplets suspended from the tips of her breasts, while a stream of water flowed down her torso. Does she shave? Wax? Landing strip? 70’s bush? Jane giggled at that last one. No way was there a 70’s bush in those panties. _I’m guessing waxed. Jane felt like Louise was the type who would prefer that to daily maintenance. I wonder about her boobs? She’s a brunette, so probably darker nipples? Big or small areolas? How big are her nipples? Holy shit there I go again! Jane thought. Why am I suddenly thinking with my pussy?_ Sure, she had been in plenty of locker rooms. Had seen hundreds of tits and bushes (or the lack thereof) of all varieties. And she had never given it a second thought. Sure, she could objectively look at another woman and make a judgement call on their relative attractiveness or fitness, but there was never a sexual undertone to it. Until now. She wanted to feel gross. She wanted to feel guilty. This wasn’t her. But the only thing she felt was horny and try as she might, the sense of guilt that she thought she should be experiencing was nowhere to be found. Groaning, Jane finished drying off and got dressed. Please let this day end without any further embarassment.

**********

“One bed? Seriously? One fucking bed?” Angela was pissed. Her day had gone from bad to worse to New Jersey. She *almost* made the mistake of saying that it couldn't be worse. But, as she reminded herself, The Dildo of Consequences seldom arrives lubed. She scowled. At least it was a king size bed. Cabin 3 was identical to the other cabins with the exception that there was an extra dresser for the third occupant of the room.

Angela noticed a large rectangular box on the bed with hers and her sister's names written on it. Approaching the bed, she opened the box and read the enclosed note; the same note that the occupants of the other cabins had gotten with their own packages. Underneath the note and occupying all of the available space in the box was a long, unbelievably soft body pillow.

“Is that for us?”, Bethany asked.

“Gaahh!”, Angela yelped. She hadn't realized her sister was so close to her.

“According to this box it is. I don't know why, though.”

Bethany reached out and touched the pillow. She gasped. Fearing a trap, Angela slapped her sister's hand away from the pillow.

“What was that for?”, Bethany demanded.

“I thought it was messing with you or something”, Angela mumbled. Belatedly, she recalled that if anything had been happening to her sister, she'd know about it too. “So what gives? Why did you gasp or whatever?”

“Touch it and see for yourself”, replied Bethany. “I don't think you'd believe me if I told you. I don't even know how to explain it anyways.”

Angela reached out and placed her hand flat on the pillow like she had seen her sister do. As soon as her hand lay flat upon the pillow, a semi-transparent text box popped up from the pillow and hovered in front of her. “Holy shit! What is this?”, Angela asked.

“See?” Bethany replied. “How could I have explained that?”

Angela looked back to the pillow.

Enchanted Body Pillow of the Midnight Snuggler - This pillow has been made with the goal of sisterly love and harmony in mind. Upon using this pillow, spatial magic will cause the sisters Angela and Bethany to feel as if they are alone in bed, with plenty of room to move around, instead of jammed in like sardines. Additionally, anyone else in the bed with them will find that they have plenty of room to themselves, unless they wish to snuggle with one or both of the twins.

Hidden effects - After one use, the following effects are permanent, whether or not the pillow is used again: Angela and Bethany WILL have a sex dream involving each other. Other individuals such as the Master, or anyone that has caused a lustful thought in either of the twins during the previous 24 hours may also appear.

“We'll that's nice!”, Bethany gushed. “Maybe that Sage lady is trying to make up for doing this stuff to us!”

“Yeah… maybe.” Angela was less certain. One thing she was certain of though was that she needed a shower. Finding the dresser with her clothes in it, Angela walked to the bathroom where she discovered the absence of any door. “Figures”, she muttered. Stripping off, she turned on the shower and got in.

“Whoa! Mmmmh! Wha?” Bethany was very confused. Suddenly, she felt hands rubbing up and down her chest, causing her nipples and their newly acquired jewelry to blast sensation to her brain. She looked down. She could feel hands on her torso, sliding down. Now those hands were on her inner thighs. She couldn't help it. She was getting wet. Having never experienced another person's hand touching her anywhere near her intimate areas, Bethany was stunned by the sensations. This feels good! But no! It's not supposed to be happening! But I think I like it... Looking around, she saw that Suzanne was still outside. Slowly, guiltily, Bethany reached her hand up to her breast and tugged on the ring she found there. She had to bite her tongue to keep from crying out. Too hard!

“Oooh fuck!” she heard from the bathroom.

“Are you alright?”, she called to Angela.

After a brief pause, “I'm fine”, came back the response. “I guess my arm caught one of my barbells? Felt like something pinched my tit.”

And that's when it clicked for Bethany. That Shared Sin-Sations thing or whatever it was called. That meant… oh no. That meant she was getting turned on by her sister's touch! And if a shower felt like that, what was Bethany going to do if Angela did it with that man? What if she had to do something with that man and Angela had to experience it? At 26, Bethany was still a virgin. She had seen her sister's rebellion and had gone in the opposite direction. College, accounting major, respectable job as a CPA. She had focused all her life on school and doing what her parents had wanted. She had dated a few boys early in her college career, but it seemed like they only wanted one thing from her. Sure, her sister seemed to take pleasure in rubbing Bethany’s face in all of her dalliances. But Bethany was convinced that her path was the correct one. She’d focus on school and once she was out of college and working a respectable job, she’d find a respectable man and after a respectable courtship, he would propose and they would be married and settle down in a nice neighborhood and watch their kids play baseball and so on. She was one of only two females in her department. She had noticed a cute boy from Legal a few weeks ago at the Starbucks across the street. She had made eye contact and he had taken that as an invitation to come over and talk with her. His name was Brandon, and he was from Alabama. He was soft spoken, and she found his southern accent adorable. They had talked for nearly twenty minutes before Bethany realized that she needed to get back to work. She had hastily (recklessly, she had thought at the time) scribbled her number on a napkin and rushed back to her desk. Some hours later, an unknown number had texted her. Reading the message, she saw that it was Brandon. He told her how much he had enjoyed talking with her and asked her if she would do him the favor of meeting him for coffee again the next day. And so it had gone for the next three weeks. It had taken Bethany some time to feel less insecure about her appearance. She knew that she didn’t have much going on in the breast department. Some of the mean girls in high school had gone to great lengths to make sure she knew that she was in the "Itty Bitty Titty Club" She still felt naughty just thinking about that name. She had watched Brandon as they talked, waiting to see him turn his head and stare when a more well-endowed woman walked by. But he hadn’t. He had only had eyes for her. He had finally worked up to asking her out on a real date after two and a half weeks of daily coffee “dates”. Bethany sighed. Tonight was supposed to have been their first dinner date. Maybe he would have held her and kissed her good night. She knew she was getting ahead of herself, but she imagined taking Brandon home to meet her parents. He was everything they could ever want in a son in law. Bethany sighed. But that was never going to happen. She looked at herself. Even if she somehow escaped this evil place, how could she face him now? Covered in tattoos. All these.. piercings. Why had her sister gotten pierced there? With a shock, Bethany wondered if it was a lady or a man who had pierced Angela down there. The doctor's office was one thing. But Bethany was sure that outside of that one specific context, she wasn't comfortable with the idea of another woman touching her there. Brandon wouldn’t like that either, she thought. He'd take one look at me and turn away. It's not proper. Angela should have had more respect for her body.

Standing up, Bethany walked towards the bathroom. She could still feel hands on her body. Currently they felt like they were massaging her scalp. Now that's not too bad, she thought.

“Hey Ang?”, Bethany called out.

“What?”, her sister replied. “I’m kinda busy. I’m ..”

“Washing your hair. I know”, Bethany replied.

“What? Have you been watching me or something?”

“No, Ang. I haven’t. I’ve been sitting on the bed. I nearly peed myself when I felt hands on my …. My breasts” On this last word she lowered her voice. Bethany continued, “Sorry I pulled on your.. uh… piercing just now.”

The situation clicked for Angela. “Oh man. Just fucking great. You’re not going to try and wait for everyone to go to sleep before jilling off, are you?”

“Am I WHAT?!?” Bethany was scandalized. She knew that people masturbated. She wasn’t such a prude that she hadn’t done it on occasion. But every time, as soon as the afterglow faded, she had felt so guilty, so dirty, so… trashy,

“You know, pet the kitty, flick the bean, finding Nemo, double clicking the button, auditioning the finger puppets, a night in with the girls..”

“I KNOW what you’re talking about!” Bethany shouted, mortified at the conversation she was having with her sister. Her SISTER!

“Then why play dumb?”, asked Angela.

“That’s not what I was doing! I just can’t believe you’d think I’d do THAT in a room with other people, in the same bed as my sister!” Bethany was scandalized.

“Oh. I get it. Are you more of a shower girl? I go back and forth, personally. Sometimes what I want is that detachable shower head, and sometimes I just want to lay back and –“

“STOP IT!”, yelled Bethany. “I don’t want to know about what you do to yourself! I respect myself and my future husband!”

Angela, who had finished her shower, turned off the water and reached for a towel. “So you’ve never done this?” And reached down and gave her clit a gentle rub.

“Unnn! Stop that!”, Bethany screeched. “That’s not funny!”

“I beg to differ, but OK. I’ll stop. But you better not pull any funny business when it’s your turn in the shower, or so help me...” But Angela wasn’t sure what she would actually do. In truth, while it had always entertained her to make her twin sister uncomfortable with her antics, Angela was only just realizing what their situation now implied. I can’t touch myself without touching her. What’s that gonna do for my sex life? Is she constantly going to try to clamjam me? Will I ever be able to forget that she’s there, no matter how far apart we are? Fuck! I just basically rubbed my sister’s pussy!

Angela viewed herself as straight. Mostly. She had fooled around with women from time to time, but almost always in the context of a threesome. She had only been with a woman by herself twice. And one of those she just wanted to go down on me. I could close my eyes and imagine it was an guy who was exceptionally good at eating pussy. And I was drunk. It doesn't really count if you're drunk. But the idea of a threesome with her sister, was a completely different animal altogether. Like she’d hook up by herself, much less in a three-way, Angela thought. Looking back at Bethany, Angela saw real concern in her twin’s expression.

“Look. I’m sorry. It’s been a really crappy day and it’s only gotten worse. And then somehow you get pulled into this and I’m so angry about that because you were doing good and Mom and Dad were so happy that at lease one of their kids was worth a shit and –“

Angela’s increasingly emotional rant was smothered as her sister rushed her and wrapped her in a crushing hug. This is new, Angela thought. To feel both her sister in her arms and to feel those same arms wrapped around herself, which she experienced from an entirely different perspective simultaneously was a novel sensation. And then she felt it. She could feel her (her sister’s) nipples poking her own. The hard nubs and the harder metal. Involuntarily, she felt her own (her sisters?) nipples harden in return. Gasping, the twins let go of each other and took a step back. Belatedly, Angela realized that she was still naked. Still wet from her shower. And maybe a little wet because of something else… a voice in her mind whispered to her. Her nipples with their barbells looked like dark red pencil erasers, pointing straight out from her modest breasts. Because Beth had rushed and hugged her straight from the shower, the already thin white shirt she was wearing courtesy of Sage was practically transparent. Angela could easily see Beth’s angry little nubs and the gold rings adorning them.

“Sorry!” Both twins blurted it out simultaneously. Feeling like she needed to take the lead, Angela tried to brush it off.

“Look. It’s no biggie. It’s not like we don’t see the exact same thing in the mirror every day. This will just take a little getting used to. That’s all. We’ll figure this out.” Angela hoped that she sounded more confident than she felt.

Nodding, Bethany looked down and wouldn’t meet her sister’s eyes.

“Look. Why don’t you shower? Strangely enough, I actually DO feel a little better after mine. And you can’t tell me that you’ve ever experienced a shower as nice as that one.” Belatedly, Angela thought that Bethany might misinterpret what part of a “nice shower” Angela was referring to, but she needn’t have worried.

“OK. I’ll do that.” Bethany turned and went to get some clean clothes. Angela finished drying off and got dressed. Of course. This shirt is so thin I might as well not wear one. Fucking figures.

Suzanne heard the shower turn off. Both of the sisters should be done with the bathroom by now. She had walked to the front porch of her cabin and sat on the steps, looking at the trees. How could somewhere so beautiful be the setting for something this awful? she thought. At nineteen, Suzanne knew she was the youngest person there. Dave was in his mid-30’s. 35? 36? She had heard him mention it before but she couldn’t recall. Louise was in her 30’s. Hillary and Grace were as well. She was pretty sure that Jane was a little younger than Dave, but still significantly older than Suzanne. They’re all grown women. And I’m just a kid. Well, maybe not a kid. But definitely younger. Even those twin sisters, they were older than her. Maybe not as old as the other women, but definitely in their mid 20’s. Suzanne sighed. Sage had told the truth as far as her brief biography of Suzanne had gone. Except that “crush” wasn’t the right word. Suzanne was pretty sure she loved Dave. She knew that the older women would just laugh her off if she tried to explain her feelings. She knew that they would see a young girl experiencing puppy love and would pity her for her naivete. But Suzanne knew better. She knew what a crush was. She had had a crush on Billy Jenkins for most of ninth grade. Until she saw him making out with Vanessa Carter after the spring semiformal dance. Suzanne knew what a crush was and what she felt for Dave was so much more.

Growing up the daughter of a widower cop, Suzanne had had a unique experience to say the least. Some kids were fortunate to have a handful of aunts and uncles that came by from time to time and on the holidays to visit. Suzanne had grown up with several hundred aunts and uncles. And they all knew each other. While some kids went to after-school daycare, Suzanne had gone to the police station. She had spent untold hours in her father’s office doing homework and listening to the radio traffic. She had heard her father chewing people out. She had heard all KINDS of gossip. And she had heard about him. For as long as she could remember, Ofc. Brewer had been the standard for what a police officer should be, as far as Suzanne was concerned. As she had gotten older, her father had let her look through some of the various reports that the officers generated every day. Mostly they were boring. A domestic disturbance. No neighbors saw or heard anything. Yeah right, she thought. Then why did you call the damn police? A car was broken into. If they’d have locked their stupid car, this wouldn’t have happened. A traffic stop where the driver had a warrant. But occasionally, there was something out of the ordinary. And maybe it was true, and maybe it was just what she wanted to be true, but Ofc. Brewer tended to be involved in those extraordinary reports more often than not. Reports where the police (Ofc. Brewer) had helped in a way that was unconventional. That report where he had gone the extra mile and uncovered child ****. And then he got partnered up with Ofc. Simmons. Jane. At first, Suzanne had hated Jane. Had been so jealous of the time Jane got to spend with Ofc. Brewer. Of those shared inside jokes. The casual companionship. Then one day, Jane had called her out on it. Suzanne had been so embarrassed. But Jane had been so cool about it. She had talked to Suzanne like a grown-up and not some stupid kid. She had explained that Brewer was like a brother to her and that even if that wasn’t the case, she was no homewrecker. And then, to seal the deal and cement Jane as Suzanne’s second-favorite cop, Jane had looked her dead in the eye and sworn that she would tell nobody about Suzanne's feelings for Ofc. Brewer. And as far as Suzanne could tell, Jane had kept her word. Not even Brewer (Dave, her mind said) seemed aware, if his expression earlier hadn’t been an act.

Maybe he’ll finally see me as a woman and not as just a kid, or even worse, the CHIEF’S kid. Suzanne hadn’t heard any specifics, but she had picked up enough from her father’s comments to know that something had happened, causing her father's opinion of Ofc. Brewer to go down. Where her father had previously used Ofc. Brewer as an example to other officers, lately, any comparisons to Brewer were less than favorable. It wasn’t until that Sage lady started talking about her “Auntie Hillary” that Suzanne put two and two together and understood what had happened. She still felt conflicted. On the one hand, Hillary was her father’s goddaughter. As a child, Suzanne hadn’t understood exactly what that meant and had called her “Auntie Hillary”. The name had stuck, and as Suzanne got older, Hillary had filled that role as the cool aunt, becoming something more like a big sister to Suzanne. But to hear how Hillary had worked to sabotage such a good man was devastating. There had to be more to the story, right? Surely Hillary was an innocent pawn in Brewer’s ex-wife’s evil plan. That had to be it, didn’t it? But Suzanne knew better. If nothing else, she had learned from her father that if all the available evidence said something looked like a duck, quacked like a duck, and swam like a duck, eventually you had to start considering that you had a duck on your hands.

Suzanne had spent most of her time on the cabin’s front steps trying to parse what she had learned from Sage’s statements to and about the other women. Shifting her feet, she was again reminded of her own transformation. With a start, she remembered that she was in a skirt, sitting with her knees to her chest with a fairly short skirt on. There’d be no secrets if someone was trying to take a peek she thought. But a quick glance confirmed that she was the only person in sight. So I’m a goth now? Do I have to be all sad and stop liking popular things? Suzanne wasn’t some sheltered shy violet. Her high school (and now college) had its share of emo and goth kids. They had been mostly quiet, keeping to their own group. She had never seen the point of making fun of them. The only thing she could say for sure about the goths she had known in high school was that they definitely seemed to prefer black. But as far as fashion went, they covered the spectrum. From long dresses to scandalously short miniskirts, to jeans and leather, there was no one set look. She straightened her legs and looked at herself. More than one guy (or girl) had assumed that she was some kind of goth wannabe. She was tall, slim, pale, and had (natural) jet black hair. It would be a reasonable assumption. Until you took into account that she was more of a jock than anything. She enjoyed a spot in many different social circles. Her status as a standout athlete helped to offset the stigma that came from being the police chief’s daughter. I guess it could be a lot worse, she thought. So I have to wear black clothes. I can probably live with that. At least she didn’t mess with my mind or my body. Shuddering, Suzanne wasn’t sure which was worse between those two options. And she had heard what Dave, she grinned at the use of his first name, had said about her new look. He said I was hot! And that I have a nice ass. Suzanne wasn’t a vain person, but she took pride in her appearance. As far back as she could remember, she had loved to play soccer. And soccer does a lower body good, she thought. She had never been one to count calories or stress over what she ate. Between practices and working out, sometimes she had to work to gain weight. It’s amazing I have any boobs at all. Thanks, Mom. Being taller than most of the boys had been frustrating at times, but lately it had bothered her less and less. It didn’t matter so much anymore that so many of the good looking guys were intimidated because she was taller than them. Ofc. Brewer wasn’t bothered by her height. Of course, until today, Suzanne wasn’t sure he had ever looked at her that way before. And, he was still a couple of inches taller than her, anyways.

Suzanne’s smile faltered a bit as she thought about her mother. Her mom had died when Suzanne was eight. Breast cancer. By the time it was caught, it had progressed to stage four and spread to her brain, lungs, and kidneys. Her mother had opted for hospice care and the end came with a minimum of suffering. For Suzanne’s mom, anyways. Suzanne wasn’t sure her dad would ever fully recover. Occasionally, Suzanne would idly wonder how her life would be different if her mom was still alive. Or if her dad had ever remarried. She could remember only a handful of dates her dad had gone on, and he had never wanted to talk about them afterwards. Shaking her head, Suzanne stood up and entered the cabin. One of the twins, I’ve got to figure out which one is which if I’m going to be living with them she thought, was sprawled across the couch. The other one was emerging from what Suzanne assumed was the bathroom, wearing some kind of skimpy outfit consisting of a crop top and some booty shorts and toweling her hair off. She gave a start when she saw Suzanne and moved to cover herself with her hands before seeming to catch herself and returning to drying her hair.

“Bethany”, the twin with the towel said, indicating herself. I’ve got the left arm covered with this… stuff”, she said, indicating the tattoos.

“Hey! Nobody asked your opinion of MY art!”, the twin on the couch, Angela, she told herself, shouted.

“But it’s on ME now! I should get to have SOME kind of opinion, don’t you think?”, Bethany retorted.

“Ladies, please”, Suzanne tried to interject. “Nobody is judging anyone. I think your tattoos are cool.” This was directed towards Angels. “And I am sorry that you had all this”, she gestured in Bethany’s general direction, “done to you without your consent. But we’ve got to live together for who knows how long. Can we save our anger for Sage or whoever she works for?”

Looking slightly ashamed, both twins gave their assent. “Yeah”, said Angela. “You’re right. Sorry Beth. I know you didn’t ask for this. I’m sorry I got you mixed up in all this bullshit.”

“We’ve gone over this already, Ang.”, Beth stated. “It’s not your fault any more than it is hers”, she said pointing towards Suzanne. “But she’s right. We need to work together. Fighting with each other is probably just what she wants.” Everybody knew who Bethany was referring to.

Satisfied that the tentative peace would last at least a little longer, Suzanne turned back to Bethany. “So what’s with the change of clothes?”

“Apparently it’s our uniform. There’s a box over there on the bed with your name on it. We got a magic body pillow or something. Says it’s gonna make it feel like we are in a bed by ourselves and not crammed all together in one bed. There was also a note from Sage. Said that we had to wear this camp uniform and that you’d find clothes for you in your dresser. I’m assuming the dresser by itself is yours”, she said, pointing to the lone dresser.

“Huh. Yep. Looks like it”, Suzanne said as she opened the various drawers. Looking at her watch, Suzanne realized that it was 6:15 already. “We have to be there at 7 PM and she said it’s a ten minute walk. We probably should leave here at quarter til just to be safe, don’t you think?”

“Yeah”

“Nah”

Suzanne looked between the twins. “Come on Ang. Let’s not intentionally get her mad at us on the very first day. Please?”, Bethany begged.

“Fine. Quarter til.”, Angela relented.

“OK. So that gives me thirty minutes to shower and change. Should be plenty of time.” And so saying, Suzanne gathered up a change of clothes (all black, she noticed) and deciding to open the box on the bed with her name on it later, Suzanne set it on her dresser and stepped into the bathroom. “There’s no door?”, she called. “Wait. Scratch that. Of course there isn’t. Look, I don’t care if you gotta pee, but if you gotta do the other, can we maybe agree to do that when nobody’s in the shower?”

“Yeah. That seems fair”, Angela said from the couch.

Bethany had gone extremely red in the face. Apparently, bodily functions hadn’t been on the list of things she had considered when she had analyzed their new living condition. “Um… yeah. That’s fine”, she squeaked. She made up her mind then and there that she would NEVER use the bathroom for that while the other girls were around. I’ll just get up in the middle of the night and go to the dining hall or whatever. Even if they don’t have doors there, at least I’ll be alone!

Suzanne managed to shower and get ready in plenty of time. She had made the decision to completely shave her vagina while she was in the shower. She had never done so before, preferring to maintain a neat triangle, but in a spur of the moment decision, she had lathered up and swiped a swathe of hair before she could change her mind. She had seen some of her teammates in the showers after practice and games. Some had elected to go completely bald. Some apparently never wore bikinis, and the rest were somewhere in between. Walking around, Suzanne was aware of the feeling of her underwear rubbing against her bare skin. She had taken a minute to look at herself in the bathroom mirror. She had never seen her naked sex before. Not like this, anyways. She admitted to herself that the thought of what she had just done turned her on a little bit. She could see her outer lips had swollen just a little. Her clitoris, while not huge, was visible. And was that sheen on her labia her own wetness or water from the shower? Not wanting to be caught by one of the twins, she hurriedly got dressed. Whether it was in her head or not, she couldn’t help but feel a bit naughty. She felt her nipples harden and her vagina was tingly and slightly moist. Suzanne smiled to herself. “Are you guys ready to head to dinner?”, she asked. Getting affirmative responses, the trio set out for the dining hall.

********

“And this is you.” Sage pointed to a large, two-story log cabin. On a sign in front of the house was carved “Camp Director”. “Go in, and make yourself at home. Freshen up if you want. The dining hall is that building on the other side of this field.” Pointing, Sage indicated a large, square clearing about a hundred yards to a side. On the far side of the field stood a long, low rectangular building with a wraparound porch with what Dave thought were rocking chairs, sitting in the shade that the roof provided.

“Apparently they called this area”, Sage gestured to the field in front of them, “the Quad. How very original. I believe it was used for camp assemblies and for various games and such. I’m sure we’ll come up with a use for it. I’ve been thinking about where to put the Jell-O wrestling pit.” Grinning at the expression on Dave’s face, Sage took pity on him. “But seriously. Go inside. Freshen up. If there is anything, and I mean anything,” holding up her hand to the side of her mouth, Sage lowered her voice, “or anyone that you want, you just pick up the phone and dial 0. I’ll make it happen. Run along. Off you go!” Sage chivvied Dave up the front porch stairs and up to the front door. “This door will only open for you. Or me.” Sage smirked. “Now off you go! The Master must look presentable at our first meal as a harem!”

Dave shook his head resignedly. Go with the flow until I can figure out how to get us out of here he thought. Opening the door, Dave stepped inside. He turned to Sage. “Where are you staying? You’re not staying here, are you?”

“Oh honey! Thanks for the invite!”, Sage gushed.

Dave scowled. “That’s not what I meant and you know it!”

“Oh my dear. I know. But maybe you’ll change your mind one of these days. Now, for the last time, go get cleaned up and into some fresh clothes. You’ll find a closet and dresser filled with clothes in just your size. I’ve got a little behind the scenes business to take care of. But if you absolutely NEED to find me, I will be staying next door in what used to be the Medical Building. Think of my as your naughty nurse!” And with a wink and a smile, Sage shut the door in Dave’s face and hurried to her residence at the camp.

As she walked across the lawn, she suddenly stiffened and her eyes glazed over. A look of dread covered her face and what color there was began to fade.

“Yes, sir. I can hear you.”

“Yes, ma’am. I can hear all of you.”

“Sir?”

“Sir?”

Sage gulped.

“Sir, I assure you that I know how to set up a poll for viewers to vote on.”

“No, Sir. I haven’t looked at “that soup sandwich of a clusterfuck” as you call it yet. We were –“

“Yes, Sir. I apologize. I know that you have been watching my every move.”

“Sir? I don’t understand. What do you mean my poll was fucked up like a hillbilly’s family tree? My people assured me that they triple-checked their numbers.”

“They did WHAT?”

“No, Sir. I apologize for raising my voice. I am just surprised.”

“No, Sir. I wouldn’t dream of calling any of you a liar.”

Sage was trembling. She fought with every fiber of her being to keep her voice steady.

“Would you like me to re-distribute the BP?”

“Yes, Ma’am. I understand. The results will stand since we broadcast them. I’ll be meeting with my team directly to get to the bottom of this.”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir. I won’t let you down.”

“Yes, Sir. I mean I won’t let you down again.”

Like a puppet whose strings had been cut, Sage collapsed to the grass. Holy shit that was close! Pull yourself together! If you were getting canceled, you’d know it. Fucking Terry better be able to explain this.

Standing on wobbly legs, Sage closed the distance to the camp’s former medical center and stepped inside. Holding a finger to her ear, she started speaking.

“Everybody better stop what they’re doing and fucking pay attention right fucking now!”

“Yes! I mean everybody, Steve, you fucking doorknob!”

“Anyone wanna guess who I just got done talking to?”

“No! Not –“

“No! Not them-?

“Stop! That was a fucking rhetorical question! We just came within a gnat’s ass of being canceled on the spot. New season or no. Does anyone know why? And before any of you brain trusts opens your mouth to deprive thinking people of oxygen, I want you to know that that was ALSO a rhetorical question!”

“The Producers have informed me that our poll experienced an anomaly, is how I believe they described it. Who was in charge of setting up the poll?”

“Anyone? They just don’t magically appear, you know. If I have to go find out myself, I will not only do horrible things to you, but I will personally turn you and everyone you love into sex toys to be used by people who think Dakota is too tame!”

“So it was you? Anyone else?”

“Seriously? You actually let the dog fucking help you? How on earth is Sgt. Barkles in any way qualified to collect and count votes? Actually, why did you interfere with Sgt. Barkles? He almost certainly would have done a better job without your interference!”

“No, not really! That was an example of hyperbole. But fuck me, Terry, I’m starting to think that maybe he really could have!”

“Stop crying! It’s distracting.”

“Of course your feelings were hurt! That was the point! Now please explain to me what the fuck you did with my poll?”

“You what? You took a system that has been in place for the Producers know how long and you CHANGED it? Please, by all means continue.”

“Wait. Let me get this straight. In EVERY OTHER poll, whoever was ranked with a 1 was a first place vote, but in our poll, you said 6 was for first place?”

“Yes. Yes it does sound kinda backwards when I say it like that. If only YOU had said it out loud before metaphorically shitting the bed that we all have to sleep in, we might have one less issue to deal with. Going forward, a rank of ONE will mean FIRST PLACE, while a rank of SIX will mean SIXTH PLACE. I don’t want to belabor the point, but there was considerable confusion with the Producers and only the fact that somebody apparently has a soft spot for idiots and fools has kept us from getting canceled.”

“No. I asked about that as well. We won’t be redoing any of the BP. The Producers said to let it ride. They seem to think that maybe something interesting will happen with this, as they call it, “unjust enrichment”. Also, Sgt. Barkles is now our Chief Statistician, And before anyone asks, yes. I'm fucking serious."

“Yes, that’s all.”

“Seriously! That’s it!”

“NO! I’m not forgetting anything!”

“What?’”

“Janice, are you fucking with me? Now is NOT the time, girlfriend.”

“Fine. “

Sage sighed and massaged the bridge of her nose. Putting her finger back up to her ear, she began speaking again. “And lets all wish a happy birthday to Patty in Accounting. Now please get back to work and try not to fuck anything else up.”

Sage stood in the semi-darkness of what used to be the waiting room. She tilted her head back, closed her eyes, and screamed.

Several minutes later, she collected herself and made her way to the bar she had had installed by the bay window. Pouring herself a drink, she noticed that there was a box addressed to her sitting on the coffee table. Was that there when I came in? Setting her drink down, she approached the box.

It was about the size of a shoebox, but made out of some kind of dark wood. Picking it up, Sage was surprised at how lightweight it felt. Fumbling with the lid, Sage realized that it slid off instead of lifting off. Looking inside were a stack of heavy cardstock cards with fancy writing as well as a sealed envelope with her name on it. Lifting the letter out, Sage saw a glossy photograph of a crazily tall woman blowing her a kiss. Picking up the photo, she tossed it to the side and examined the letter. Letting her curiosity get the better of her, Sage popped the wax seal with a stylized giant S with a smaller H to either side and began to read.

"They actually gave you another season after what happened last time? Well miracles all around I guess. I hear you're having budget problems. Well never say I didn't do anything for you, here's some prepared TF's even your crew can't screw up so you don't have to buy any of those bargain bin 'permanent' transformatives.

Shar”

Huh. On the one hand, she can kiss my ass. I'm no charity case! But on the other hand…beggars can't be choosers. Sage rifled through the cards. Interesting… Yes. This could work. THAT one is definitely gonna happen. Yikes! She is fucking devious! Looking up at the ceiling, Sage smiled. “Thank you Shar. I appreciate the gift. I’ll make sure these find a happy home!” And blowing a kiss to the air, Sage set the cards down on her kitchen table.

“Terry! Don’t talk, just listen. I just got a batch of transformations and surprises. Don’t ask where I got them…”

“I said don’t ask!”

“Fine! Shar.”

“Yes, her!”

“Yes. I know she’s tall and scary! Can I get to the point?”

“So. Here’s the deal. They’re sitting on my kitchen table. While I’m at dinner, I want you to send someone over to get them and load them up so we can use them.”

“Yes, I’m serious about using them!”

“You wanna go give them back to her and tell her you don’t want them?”

“That’s what I thought.”

“And Terry? Don’t fuck this up.”

A/N : So a couple of things… First, big thanks to Wrynn. I’ve bounced a lot of ideas around with them and it’s been a lot of fun. A couple of things here (and in future chapters) are a direct result of these chats. Please check out their branch. It’s fun and I’ve really liked it.

Secondly, apparently my poll was ummm… in a different format than what has become standard. This came to my attention after the chapter was posted, so I decided that my irl fuckup would just be all the more on-point with this particular branch. Going forward, I’ll model my polls after the more traditional ones found on other branches. I’ll try not to screw it up. Thanks for the likes and comments. This has been a lot of fun!