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The Orphanage Blues
By By Beating Off Bob (beatingoffbob@yahoo.com)

***

A troubled orphan boy is punished by being sent to the 
Dante's Inferno of orphanages, but a glitch in the 
paperwork lands him in a place full of love and concern 
for his welfare. It changes his life completely, and 
that of the women who run the small orphanage in Mid 
America during WW II. (MFm-teen, ped, 1st, reluc, 
cheat, mast, oral, preg)

***

Author's comment: Some stories take a lot longer to set 
the plot up than others. This is one of those stories. 
To fully understand the characters, and what they do 
later in the story, it was necessary. So, too, was it 
necessary to delve into a little philosphy and 
psychology in the beginning. I believe it will make the 
rest of the story much more interesting in the long 
run. I can only hope you agree. So have patience, kind 
reader, and get to at least the third chapter before 
you decide whether or not it's worth finishing. I don't 
think you'll be disappointed.

Bob

***

Life is almost never easy or relaxed or even happy in a 
routine sort of way. 
 
That's a statement a lot of people would argue about. 
First of all it's a broad statement. The argument would 
probably start with the definition of "almost never" 
tied to "routine sort of way".

How many hours of the day is one relaxed or happy 
before the statement becomes false? Maybe you don't 
think it's fair to decide the truth or fiction of the 
statement based on the quantity of number of minutes or 
hours a person is happy during a day. Perhaps you think 
that if, at some time during the day, more days of the 
week than not, a person feels happiness, or relaxed, or 
that life is easy, then that statement is false.

Obviously, one can't feel gloriously happy all day, 
every day, but if a person isn't miserable for the 
majority of the day, wouldn't that suggest that life is 
happy? For the most part?

But people who want to argue about the amount of time a 
person is happy are missing the point. It isn't really 
about how often you are happy that really counts. What 
counts is if you can find a way to be happy at all.

Life is a struggle, almost all the time. Abraham 
Maslow's theory of needs illustrates that, whether you 
agree with his hypothesis or not. For those of you who 
are unfamiliar with that hypothesis, Mr. Maslow 
believed that all our energy goes into providing for 
ourselves in the following manner:

First we use our energy to obtain basic physiological 
needs - food, clothing, shelter etc.

Once we have that, we work towards safety and stability 
for ourselves and those we care about.

When that is taken care of we concentrate on obtaining 
friends, the feeling of belonging and love.

Once we feel we are loved by others, we try to rise to 
the top of the heap. We look for respect, and status, 
among other things.

After all that is done, we look toward self 
actualization, which involves truth, justice, and 
finding a meaning to our lives. 

It's a five level pyramid when it's presented in 
graphic form. So, at what level can we say that we're 
happy most of the time? It's fair to say that few 
people spend the majority of their time on self 
actualization, which means they're still struggling 
primarily to get to one of the other levels. And if you 
spend your time and energy struggling to climb to 
another level, can you really say that you're happy 
"most of the time"? 

It's complicated even more when you realize that, in 
reality, we try to work on all five levels of the 
pyramid at the same time.

Well, the fact is that this is supposed to be a story, 
not a philosophical argument. So let's get on with the 
story and maybe that will illuminate the argument in a 
way that will make you... happy.

The story is about a boy named Bobby Martin. Bobby 
would probably have been described as an unhappy boy. 
His parents were killed in an automobile accident in 
1935, when he was seven, and there was no other family 
to take him in. It was then a society that had little 
use for a seven year old orphan boy, and he was 
shuttled from one miserable institution to another over 
the years. The Great Depression in America had made it 
hard enough for people to feed and clothe their own 
children, and adoptions were not popular for the most 
part.

Conditions in America's orphanages might have been 
roughly compared to the top of level one of Maslow's 
pyramid. Bobby generally had enough to eat to stay 
alive, and clothes to wear, and a roof over his head. 
He was safe, for the most part, though he was beaten 
fairly regularly because of his attempts to climb 
higher on Mr. Maslow's pyramid. To be fair, it must be 
said that the social structures in those places were 
well developed, both among the children housed in them, 
and the staffs that took care of those children. So 
perhaps Bobby was familiar with the twists and turns of 
level two or three, once he'd been at some institution 
long enough, though each time he was moved, he had to 
start all over again.

But talk to any of the people who lived or worked in 
those places, and you'll be hard pressed to find even 
one who would characterize them as "happy places."

Bobby's story started in 1935, but we'll pick it up on 
New Years Day, 1945, which is when Bobby's life took a 
turn for the better. It wasn't intended to take a turn 
for the better. Quite the opposite. It was intended 
that his life descend a little further into Hell. But 
fate has a way of altering intentions, which is exactly 
what happened.

 He was then sixteen years old, only ten months shy of 
being old enough for the system to permit him to join 
the war effort and go off to die for the country that 
had no other use for him. He was, on that day, a 
resident of the Taylor School for Boys, a three story 
brick building that had, at one time, been a warehouse 
for bales of cotton, but had been taken over by the 
Government when the owner went bankrupt during the 
depression. Even renovation into a dormitory style 
warehouse for boys couldn't expunge the fine cotton 
lint that pervaded the place, coating everything, no 
matter how often things were swept or dusted. 

Bobby had lived at Taylor for just over a year, and had 
just been called on the carpet for perhaps the 
thirtieth time for fighting. Bobby wasn't a strapping 
strong boy. He was tall for his age, probably due to 
heredity, and painfully thin, probably due to a diet 
that provided only eighty percent of his daily needs. 
As such, even boys a few years younger than he was 
picked on him. He had spirit, though, and was quick to 
lash out at those who sought to keep him low on the 
social totem pole. He fought dirty and he fought for 
keeps. He couldn't understand how, even though the boys 
he fought usually ended up in the hospital, the others 
kept trying to beat him.

He faced Mr. Ridgemont, the so-called Principal of the 
so-called school.

"You're incorrigible, Bobby." the man said flatly. "I'm 
tired of you causing trouble. I'm transferring you. 
You'll wish you'd been more tractable when this is 
done. I promise you that!"

Bobby stayed silent. Ridgemont loved the sap he carried 
in his back pocket, and he loved using it on the boys 
he was angry with. Bobby had a lot of experience on the 
receiving end of that anger. He didn't care where they 
sent him. In less than a year he'd be inducted into the 
Army and he'd be free at last. He didn't even care that 
it meant he'd have to fight and probably die. The Army 
couldn't be any worse than what he'd lived in for 
almost as long as he could remember.

"I'm sending you to Millstone," said Ridgemont, his 
tight mouth smiling a little.

Millstone was well known in orphanages as the place 
where boys were "corrected". It was what passed, in 
those days, for a maximum security prison for 'wayward' 
boys. It was rumored that not a few boys died while 
they were at Millstone.

"Get him out of here," said Ridgemont gruffly to the 
two burly, and only marginally intelligent men in what 
had once been white uniforms, who stood by Bobby. They 
were too stupid to be inducted into the Army, and this 
was the only job they'd been able to find. It suited 
their temperaments too, because they got to beat the 
boys.

One of the men cranked Bobby's right arm so high up 
behind his back that he felt tendons stretching to the 
breaking point. Bobby stepped quickly forward and kept 
his whimper of pain in. It was better if you didn't 
vent your pain. They fed on that. He knew where they 
were taking him. There was a windowless room, with only 
a mattress on the floor. He had been in that room many 
times.

Back in the office Harry Ridgemont scrawled the order 
to transfer Bobby Martin. He was busy, and his 
handwriting, even at its best, was difficult to read. 
He was lazy too, and didn't cross the "T" in Millstone, 
in the destination block of the transfer order.

Bureaucracy being what it is, it took two weeks for 
that transfer order to reach an office two states away, 
where a woman peered at the scrawled word and read the 
"M-I-L-L" at the beginning, but then could recognize 
only an "o" and an "n" later in the word. She pulled 
out a book and began leafing through it, trying to 
match those letters to one of the many orphanages the 
system supported. Ah. There it was. "Milleson House", 
in Nebraska.

She processed the transfer and sent it on its way, for 
another two week journey to the location where someone 
would read it and actually do something about it.

Bobby sat in the punishment room the entire month. In 
some ways, he didn't mind. There was no one to talk to, 
but then talking to people always ended up making 
trouble. If you talked in school, you got the sap. If 
you said something behind someone's back... or even in 
front of him... he wanted to fight, and you got the 
sap. If you talked in the evenings, when the attendants 
were listening to the radio, you got the sap. It was 
just easier not to talk.

***

Randy Covington was what could be called a happy-go-
lucky fellow. He'd broken his leg in a farming accident 
when he was young, and the bones had been set poorly, 
leaving him with an obvious limp. His prospects hadn't 
been good as a young man, and the Army wouldn't take 
him when the war broke out, but then he was offered the 
job of accompanying orphans during transfers from one 
facility to another. Most of that was done seated, in 
this or that bus, car or train though, and it was a 
steady job. He lived with his mother when he wasn't 
traveling, and, together, they made do. All in all, 
Randy Covington knew when he was well off, and 
appreciated it.

He had seen his share of brutal situations and, when he 
arrived at the Taylor School for Boys, and saw the two 
men flanking the boy he was there to pick up, he 
recognized brutality in them immediately. He handed 
over the transfer order, put the boy in the passenger 
seat of his Government sedan, took the burlap bag that 
he knew contained the boy's worldly possessions, and 
left as quickly as possible.

They were possibly a mile from the Taylor School for 
Boys when he first spoke to the boy whose name he knew 
was Bobby.

"So, all excited about going to a new place?" he asked 
genially, just trying to make conversation.

Bobby didn't speak. It was easy, since he hadn't said a 
word to anyone in a month. Besides, he had found that 
speaking to adults was both profitless, as well as 
sometimes dangerous.

Randy had seen it before. These kids closed down to the 
outside world. He couldn't do anything about it, but 
tried anyway. By the time they got to the train station 
he had still been unable to get the boy to say a word. 
Once at the station he launched into his memorized 
litany of instructions.

"OK, your ticket is for Hamptstead, where someone will 
meet you. That's in Nebraska. You're sixteen, so you're 
old enough to travel by yourself. Your ticket includes 
a voucher for one meal. It's good at any station that 
has a placard in the window that looks like that." He 
pointed to a blue triangle in the upper left corner of 
the paper he was holding out to Bobby. "Don't get lost. 
They don't like it when they have to hunt you down. 
Your trip will be overnight, but you don't have to 
change trains, so just find a seat and get comfortable 
in it. You got any questions?"

Bobby peered at the paperwork the man was trying to 
give him. The transfer site clearly said "Milleson 
House" and not "Millstone". 

A lot went through Bobby's mind during those few 
seconds. He'd never heard of "Milleson House", but he 
had a pretty good idea that, if he was being sent to 
Millstone, they wouldn't put him on the train by 
himself. He also knew that Millstone was in New Jersey, 
and not Nebraska. He looked guardedly at Roger, but 
still said nothing.

Roger had other things to do. It wasn't that he was 
impatient. He just needed to be moving on. The boy's 
look suggested that something was wrong, but he 
couldn't tell what.

"You can talk... can't you?" he asked.

Bobby's mind moved faster now. He had a chance to 
escape. He shook his head in the negative.

Roger peered at the paperwork for the silent boy. There 
was a block for "special needs", but it was empty. He 
pulled out his fountain pen and neatly printed "Mute" 
in the block. Then he looked at the boy again.

"Can you understand what I've told you?" he said in 
that slightly loud, over-pronounced way that people use 
when they talk to people who are either deaf or mute. 
For some reason people assume that if one can't talk, 
one must be stupid as well, or that if you over-
enunciate and shout, they'll hear you better.

Bobby nodded his head this time. He pointed to the blue 
triangle and pantomimed putting something into his 
mouth.

"Yes, that's for you to eat. Good," said Roger, happy 
that a possible problem had been resolved. "I've noted 
your... problem... on your papers, so they'll know 
about that when you get there. Do you think you'll be 
all right? Maybe I need to get someone to ride with 
you."

Bobby shook his head violently from side to side. He 
reached for the papers and bent to pick up the burlap 
bag at Roger's feet.

When the boy stood, Roger slapped him on the back, and 
then was ashamed instantly when the boy flinched. 

"Er... sorry. I meant that as good luck." He stuck out 
his hand instead. Bobby took it gingerly, as if he'd 
never done that before. "Good luck, my boy," said 
Roger. "I hope you like it where you're going."

Bobby found it difficult to believe it when Roger 
turned and limped off, leaving him alone.

Being alone was something very different and new for 
Bobby. The only time in his life he'd been alone was 
when he was locked in a punishment room alone. That 
might seem odd to you, the reader, since most of us 
would have considered Bobby to be "alone" most of his 
life, in the sense of not having parents or siblings.

But wherever Bobby went he did have family, of a sort. 
True, it changed, as kids came and, less often went, or 
when Bobby was shuttled off to a new "home", but in 
every situation Bobby had found somebody to be pals 
with. He didn't know how to "love" in the sense that 
you and I think about it, but his capacity to care was 
still intact and functioned as well as it could have 
been expected to.

And, the fact that he was among throngs of people 
either boarding or leaving trains in the station around 
him didn't give him the feeling of "belonging". These 
were all strangers, who hurried by him without looking 
at him for the most part, as if he were invisible. He 
was used to being invisible. Many adults had come and 
looked at the children in the places where he had 
lived. All had let their eyes glide over him as if he 
weren't there. He was too old to look at as a possible 
adoptee.

So Bobby luxuriated in the feeling of being alone, 
there among the hundreds of other people around him. 
Tentatively, he walked a ways down the hallway, toward 
a big sign that said "Trains". That seemed like an odd 
sign to him, what with this being a train station and 
all. What else could be down that hallway? He looked 
over his shoulder, expecting someone to yell at him... 
to tell him to stop. But he was invisible.

Bobby Martin smiled for the first time in a month. He 
smiled even though he was only on the very first level 
of Mr. Maslow's pyramid. He had the clothes on his 
back, and a spare set in his gunny sack. He had a 
voucher that was good for one meal during the next 
twenty four hours. And, as soon as he was on the train, 
he had shelter from the winter cold.

He knew he had to board the train. He had to make his 
freedom last as long as possible. Sooner or later 
somebody would notice that a mistake had been made, and 
he would be snatched up and put in another bare room. 
He had no doubt that the mistake would be blamed on 
him, and that, someday, he'd pay for it. Until then 
he'd just enjoy the feeling, strange as it might be, 
that he was just another traveler, on his way from one 
place to another.

He walked past a lunch counter and eyed it longingly, 
reading the menu items and smelling the odors of food. 
Breakfast had been conveniently "forgotten" that 
morning. They hadn't come to let him out of the 
punishment room until that man had arrived to pick him 
up. 

There was a girl sitting at the lunch counter, beside a 
woman and man who were probably her parents. She was 
about his age, with long brown hair and a pretty face. 
She looked at him and smiled. He looked away quickly, 
afraid to keep eye contact with her. She might tell her 
parents he was bothering her. He'd have liked nothing 
more than sitting beside the girl. She looked like she 
might wear that stuff that women outside the orphanage 
put on themselves, and which smelled good, like 
flowers.

But he had no money, and getting caught trying to steal 
would end his freedom quickly and savagely, he was 
sure. So he walked on.

He found the platform that his ticket said would be 
where the train was that he was supposed to get on, but 
it was empty. Not knowing what else to do he found a 
corner and sat down on the floor, his burlap bag on his 
lap. That bag contained his other shirt and pants. He 
only owned one pair of shoes. They were a little tight, 
but he kept them anyway. He used a rope as a belt. The 
bag also contained two changes of underwear, one of 
which was originally meant for a woman to wear. When 
you were given something, you kept it. If not you were 
never given anything again. 

There was one other item in the bag. It was a lump of 
wood, one side of which had been carved into the 
representation of the head of a dog. The carving was 
exquisite, finely detailed, the tongue hanging out of 
jaws as if the dog were hot and panting. One ear was 
raised, and the head, if viewed from one angle, looked 
like it was tilted slightly. There wasn't enough of the 
body recognizable to tell for sure.

Bobby had carved that piece. He had found a pocket 
knife on the ground one day and hidden it. He had 
sharpened it by scraping the blade against a cement 
floor until it was sharp enough to cut the hunk of wood 
he'd also picked up off the ground. Bobby had "seen" 
the dog in that lump of wood, imagining it for over a 
year before he found the knife. Then, when he had a 
tool, he'd begun to make the wood look like what he saw 
in his mind.

He'd gotten the head almost done before being caught 
with the knife, which he was immediately accused of 
having stolen. A male worker had looked at it and taken 
it away, putting it in his own pocket. The same man had 
thrown the carving across the yard and put Bobby in a 
punishment room. It had taken Bobby a week to get to 
the part of the yard where his dog had been discarded. 
It was still there and he'd been able to recover it. 

He'd managed to keep it hidden until he was transferred 
to another orphanage. After that he just claimed it had 
been given to him by an old man. Had he been able to 
finish it, it probably would have been taken from him 
too. It was master carver quality... that part that was 
done, anyway. He felt the carving through his bag and 
it comforted him to know it was still there.

"And who might you be?" came a gruff voice above him.

Bobby looked up to see a man in a blue uniform, with a 
strange conical hat. It didn't look like the hats most 
men wore, and had a bill on it. Bobby didn't say 
anything.

"Come on, now, where are your parents? What are you 
doing here?" asked the man.

Bobby held up the papers in his hand and the man took 
them.

"Oh, a waif," said the man in a kinder voice. "Sorry 
about that. Most people sit on a bench instead of the 
floor." he added.

Bobby looked at the bench only a few feet away. It 
hadn't occurred to him to sit on that. Adults sat on 
benches and chairs. Children sat on the floor unless 
they were eating. Sometimes even then.

The man looked at the papers some more. 

"Mute eh?" he said. "Can you understand talk?" he 
asked.

Bobby nodded.

"Good," said the man, handing the papers back. 
"Shouldn't have left you alone if you couldn't 
understand talk," he said. "Your train will be here in 
about forty-five minutes. I'll be back to see you get 
on it. Meanwhile get up off the floor and sit on a 
bench like normal people."

Bobby scrambled up and sat, as instructed. This acting 
like you couldn't talk was not a bad angle. People 
didn't ask so many questions if all you could do was 
shake or nod your head.

The man did come back later too. He came over and sat 
down beside Bobby, taking his hat off. He pulled a 
handkerchief out of his pocket and blew his nose before 
stuffing the cloth back in his coat.

"Well" he said. "The San Francisco Challenger will be 
here on time. There'll be a bunch of our boys getting 
off and then we'll find you a good seat. We'll be 
picking up more soldiers going the other way. Ever been 
on a train before?" he asked.

Bobby shook his head.

"Greatest way to travel ever invented," said the man. 
"I'm going to be one of the porters on this ride, so 
I'll keep an eye on you, OK?"

Bobby didn't know quite how to take that. Usually 
having an eye kept on you meant you were in trouble. 
But the man didn't sound angry. He just sounded like he 
was giving Bobby information. Bobby tried for a nod and 
the man got up.

"OK, then. I'll see you in about fifteen minutes."

When the train arrived Bobby watched in amazement. He'd 
seen trains before, but always from a distance. This 
huffing, chuffing monster was loud, and smoky and... 
just big. Not wanting to take any chances, Bobby waited 
until the porter came back for him and led him on the 
train. He was taken to a seat where the man tried to 
take his bag and put it up above. Bobby didn't want to 
let go of it, though and eventually the porter gave up.

The ride itself would make a good story, but that's a 
story for another day. What Bobby saw out the window of 
the train was amazing to him. The people who sat on the 
train around him were amazing to him. He was afraid to 
get off the train when it stopped. Sometimes it stopped 
for a long time, and at others for only ten minutes or 
so, and he was afraid to use his voucher to get food 
because he didn't know how long that would take and he 
might miss the train when it left or, worse yet, have 
to leave the food behind while he ran to get back on.

Soon the train was packed with young men wearing 
uniforms of various kinds... military uniforms. They 
were loud and laughed a lot, talking about what they 
intended to do to the Hun, or the Japs. The porter told 
them to leave Bobby alone, and that he couldn't talk. 
They did leave him alone, for the most part. One boy 
offered him a cigarette, which he took, though he'd 
never smoked one before. You always took what was 
offered. Then the soldier was off to talk to the 
others, as if they were all friends who had known each 
other for years.

When it got dark the men slept, and Bobby tried to. The 
rocking of the car and the click clack of the tracks 
was soothing. His stomach growled and hurt, but he 
ignored it as best her could. Finally, his bag gripped 
firmly in his hands, he dozed off.

He woke again in the morning. The train stopped, and 
then went and stopped again, until Bobby, faint from 
hunger now, dozed off again.

A blast of cold air woke him and he realized it was 
late in the day, and the train had stopped yet again. 
He wanted to get off and get something to eat, but 
again, he was afraid to do so. He was very hungry now, 
and was tensing his muscles to stand up and go to the 
depot when a voice shouted "All Abooooooaaaard!" and 
the train blew its whistle. He sat back and watched 
still more snowy land glide by.

Bobby was wondering when the trip would ever end when 
the porter suddenly appeared beside his seat.

"Not much longer now, son," he said. "North Platte is 
coming up. The boys'll all be getting off, but I don't 
want you to. They only get ten minutes there and it's 
hectic. Your stop is only an hour farther down the 
line."

Bobby was amazed to see hundreds of people on the 
platform when the train stopped. They were all waving 
and calling out, as if they knew all the soldiers on 
the train. They had things in their hands that they 
gave the men. When the train stopped the servicemen 
stampeded out and into the depot, running. A girl, all 
bundled up due to the cold, came along the platform and 
saw Bobby through the window. She ran up to the window 
and thrust something at him. He lowered the window to 
feel a frigid blast of cold air and she thrust the 
bundle in through the open window. He took it, to find 
it was a cloth bundle. He had time to notice her face 
was pretty and smiling, and then she was off, going to 
other windows where men were sitting who had not gotten 
off the train.

Bobby opened the bundle carefully and found it 
contained a sandwich and a pastry. He tried to stuff 
the sandwich in his mouth all at once, both because he 
was ravenous, and because he didn't want anyone to take 
it away from him. It took him several bites and he 
almost choked. The pastry he crushed, unconsciously, in 
its cloth wrapping, and hid it between him and the side 
of the car. 

He was astonished at how good the sandwich was, and 
looked around guiltily. No one paid any attention to 
him. He was almost alone in the car. Quickly he 
unwrapped the pastry and took a tentative bite. It was 
fantastic... unbelievable... sweet and soft, round, 
with a hole in the middle. He felt like he could die 
happy after having eaten this delicious thing. This he 
ate a little more slowly, savoring the taste, knowing 
he'd never get to have this delightful thing ever again 
and making the most of this amazing mistake that had 
been made.

Then the girl was at his window again, peering in at 
him. He leaned away, afraid she had come to rectify her 
mistake. She held out another bundle and he lowered the 
window again.

"Want another?" she yelled through the window. Her hand 
came through holding the cloth-wrapped bundle. 

Bobby stared.

"Go on... take it." she smiled. He almost dropped the 
new bundle, she let go of it so quickly. Then with a 
shouted "God Bless you!" she dashed off down the 
platform.

Bobby had never been 'blessed' before, though he'd 
heard the word. He looked unbelievingly at the new 
bundle and opened it carefully. Inside was another 
sandwich and a flat package wrapped in paper. It was 
the first chocolate bar Bobby had ever held in his 
hand.

***

Mavis Milleson was forty, though this particular day 
she felt closer to what she imagined sixty would be 
like. She waited patiently on the platform for the 
train that would bring her her latest acquisition. She 
tried to think of the children as acquisitions rather 
than human beings, because her heart burst every time 
she thought of what it must be like to be an orphan, 
and that was too hard. You had to keep them at bay or 
they'd tear your heart out. 

She wasn't very good at it, and she grew attached to 
all of the children anyway. It was painful to her when 
they got adopted, though that was, to her view, the 
best possible outcome for a child. Still, it was rarer 
than it should be, and some of the children she cared 
for had never been anywhere else. She was proud to be 
doing her part to serve her country during the war. And 
if she could take care of ten or fifteen orphans then 
that meant the Government could concentrate more on 
winning the war. At least that was how she thought 
about it.

She wiggled unconsciously at the cold. February in 
Nebraska was always cold, but she never got used to it. 
Her high topped shoes protected her ankles from the 
snow, and her old fashioned long skirts helped too, but 
it was still cold.

She was surprised that she was getting another child, 
not to mention that it was a boy. She was full up at 
her boarding house-turned-orphanage. Business hadn't 
been good because of the Depression, and then the war 
came along and strained things even more. Then she 
found out about the program that was trying to make 
space in the nation's overcrowded orphanages, and found 
out that she could make more by housing waifs than she 
could by operating a boarding house. 

She hadn't had to do much renovation. With two children 
to each of the six rooms that were set aside for 
boarders, she could comfortably handle a dozen 
children. Right now she had thirteen, the oldest of 
which was ten. She had three of the smaller children in 
one room, but they didn't complain since two of them 
were a babies and the other felt like he was their big 
brother. 

When she got the official message that she'd be 
receiving another boy she was surprised. The war must 
be causing problems. Usually she reported that a child 
had been adopted before they sent her another one. Then 
again, she had a pretty good placement record. The 
children she had were young, and therefore easier to 
place. And Nebraska was a place where farmers sometimes 
adopted children, since that added hands to help with 
the work, even it it was only in the house.

She saw the smoke from the smokestack before she saw or 
heard the train itself. Even before that she heard the 
rails singing as they vibrated with the coming of the 
heavy engine. She saw it was another troop train 
coming, so it would be more difficult to spot the boy, 
since he would be able to get off at any number of 
places. But the soldiers would stay on the train at 
this stop. Other than an exchange of mail bags and 
whatever passengers got off, there would be no need for 
the train to stop longer. There was no one waiting to 
board, and troop trains didn't haul freight.

She was standing and waiting when the train groaned to 
a halt, the bell ringing its insistent tone that meant 
a short stop. Her eyes were drawn to a porter and a 
young man who got off together. The porter she 
expected, and a chaperone for the child. 

But she didn't see the child.

Still, she gravitated toward the porter, who would know 
about the child and chaperone.

As she approached, her stomach sank. The young man was 
dressed in rags, for all intents and purposes, his 
pants too short and his shirt patched many times over. 
He was holding a burlap bag too. Mavis had been in this 
business long enough to know an orphan when she saw 
one, but he was much too old to be sent to her!

Her worst fears were soon confirmed as the she 
identified herself to the porter and asked about Bobby 
Martin. The man shoved a fistful of papers at her and 
said "This is him. Had no trouble from him. Not sure 
whether he's eaten or not. Good kid for a dummy." Then 
he turned and remounted the steps of the coach as Mavis 
held her hand out in supplication.

"But... wait..." she said uselessly as the door closed. 
Almost immediately the train began to inch forward. In 
frustration she yelled the first thing that came to her 
mind. "WHERE'S HIS COAT?"

Mavis swallowed. It was too late to do anything about 
it now. She'd just have to take him home and then write 
letters until some other place was found for him. She 
couldn't take care of a grown boy! She didn't know 
anything about teenagers, and if she knew anything, she 
knew this boy was in his teens.

She turned to him, but didn't look at his face. Instead 
she opened the wrinkled papers in her hand and looked 
at them.

"You're Bobby?" she asked. She looked up to see the boy 
nod, his lips pressed together.

"There's been a mistake, Bobby. I'm sorry about this, 
but I don't take older children. I don't know what to 
do." she said, uncertainly. The boy stared at her. Her 
eyes strayed across the paper to the square she always 
hated to see anything in. The word "Mute" leapt off the 
page at her. THAT was what the porter had meant when he 
called the boy a dummy!

"Oh you poor baby!" she gushed, a tear forming in her 
eyes. "Can you hear me honey?" The thought that this 
young man was handicapped made her heart break. He 
wasn't a bad looking boy, under that layer of dirt and 
grime. His arms and legs, both of which stuck out of 
his clothing in the frigid air were slim and well 
formed. He looked thin in his ragged clothing. She saw 
him nod and shiver at the same time and burst into 
action.

"Well come along. You'll freeze out here. We've got to 
get you into the warmth or you'll catch your death of 
cold." She tugged at his shirt sleeve and herded him 
toward the depot.

Once inside the depot, standing by the pot-bellied coal 
stove, which was cherry red at the bottom, Mavis took 
stock. She had a car, one of the few luxuries she was 
entitled to as a custodian of the children. If a child 
got too sick for the local doctor to treat, she had to 
drive to the hospital over in Bridgeport, the nearest 
city of any size for miles. The car's heater worked 
well, and the house was only ten blocks away, so they 
should be fine. She gave him a chance to warm up and 
then hustled him out to the car.

Mavis didn't talk to the boy on the way home. She was 
trying to figure out where she was going to put him. 
She wasn't sure if putting him in a room with little 
ones was a good idea. There was so much she didn't know 
about older children. She was childless herself, and 
the only children she had any experience with were the 
babies and children under ten. Still, she couldn't just 
turn the boy out. Unable to speak. She choked up again 
and blinked her eyes rapidly. She darted a glance at 
him, but he was sitting stock still, staring straight 
ahead. What must the poor dear be thinking?

***

What Bobby was thinking was that this must be the 
strangest orphanage in the world if people acted like 
this woman. She wasn't mean, and actually cared that he 
was cold. She said a mistake had been made, and in any 
other place he'd been that was cause to blame him. 
Punishment soon followed in his experience. But this 
woman didn't seem angry at all. 

He looked out of the sides of his eyes at the houses 
they were driving by. This place was tiny by comparison 
to the cities he had always lived in. Just as he'd been 
able to see for what seemed like miles from the window 
of the train, across wide expanses of snow-covered flat 
land, he could see that, beyond the houses there were 
only a few bare trees and that same flat land that 
seemed to roll into low hills.

The woman turned into the yard of a house that looked 
like any other house on the street. It was tall, with 
three stories. It was white, like all the other houses 
on the street, and had the same kind of porch that went 
all the way around the house, from what he could see. 
He assumed the woman was stopping at her home before 
taking him to the orphanage. 

He sat quietly. It was clear he had to wait to see what 
would happen. He had thought about jumping off the 
train and making a run for it, but the cold weather had 
quashed that plan. It was the same here. He hoped she'd 
leave the car running so the heater would work while 
she went to do whatever she had stopped to do, but she 
turned the motor off and then opened the door. He was 
still sitting there, staring straight ahead when she 
spoke.

"Well? Come on. Let's get inside before we both freeze 
to death."

Surprised, Bobby opened the car door and stepped out 
into the snow. It was deeper than his shoes and his 
socks got covered immediately. He was sad about that. 
He only had one pair of socks. 

He let himself be hustled into the house and was hit 
suddenly by warmth, and the smell of food all at once. 
Even though he'd eaten the two sandwiches and that 
delicious round pastry only an hour or two before, he 
was still hungry. He couldn't bring himself to eat the 
chocolate bar. It was too special. He had put it in his 
bag. Now the smell of cooking meat made his mouth 
water. He shivered again as the heat wrapped all around 
his body.

The woman - he didn't know her name - stopped and took 
off her coat. She was younger than he'd thought. Under 
that coat she had a young woman's body, slim, though 
not tall. He noticed her breasts. Bobby had been 
noticing women's breasts a lot the last couple of 
years. He looked out the windows of the orphanage in 
the spring and summer to look at the women as they 
walked by. 

Once there had been a woman who worked in an orphanage 
he was in, but she was old and irritated all the time. 
Boys and girls weren't allowed to mix in the orphanage, 
eating at separate times and playing outside at 
different times too. So the only women he ever saw were 
the ones out the windows and the ones who he was 
invisible to. They hadn't put him on display for 
adoption for a long time now. He knew it was years, but 
not how many.

Bobby heard voices... lots of voices... the voices of 
children, and the clatter of plates and spoons. He was 
puzzled now, but at least it was warm inside. He sat 
down gingerly on a chair in the hallway, looking at the 
woman to see if she'd yell at him for sitting there to 
wait for her. He sat just on the edge, trying not to 
get the fabric on the chair dirty.

Mavis looked at him, her head cocking sideways like the 
partially done carving in his bag. "Don't sit there." 
she said, meaning he should sit at the table with the 
rest.

Bobby jumped up immediately and sat on the floor next 
to the chair. He made sure not to lean against the 
wall, which was covered with floral wallpaper.

Mavis' eyebrows rose. "Whatever are you doing?" she 
asked. "It's supper time. Don't you want supper? Did 
you eat already on the train?"

Bobby's eyes darted around. Something was wrong here. 
She couldn't be talking to him, but he was the only 
person in the hallway except for her. He looked up to 
see her hand stretched out toward him and flinched 
before he could control it.

Mavis knew uncertainty and... yes, fear when she saw 
it. Her knees went weak as she realized the poor boy 
was afraid she was angry at him. Her heart broke yet 
again and she sniffed, trying to control her feelings. 

"Don't be afraid." she said, her eyes filling again 
with tears. "I won't hurt you. You're safe now. Come 
on. Come with me. Let's get you something to eat."

Bobby reached tentatively for the hand that was offered 
to him. He marveled at how soft her skin felt. He had 
no way of knowing that she had thick calluses on her 
hands from laundry and dishes and hauling coal for the 
stove and all the other things there was no man around 
to do. They felt soft to him.

He followed, being led by his hand as she turned a 
corner into a large room with a huge table in it. There 
were children sitting all around the table, some on 
stacks of books that got them high enough so they could 
reach their plates. There were four adults around the 
table too, some standing, and some sitting. One was 
feeding a baby who sat in a high chair. 

Most of the eyes of the children turned and fixed on 
him. All but the eyes of the woman feeding the baby 
locked on him too.

"Children?" said the woman who had taken him from the 
train station. "This is Bobby. He has come to live with 
us for a while."

Bobby thought of himself as a tough kid. He had gone up 
against boys bigger than himself for most of his life. 
He knew how to steal, and how to lie and how to cheat. 
He knew where to hit a boy to take him out of the fight 
instantly. He could write quite well and read even 
better. He thought he could take anything anybody could 
throw at him.

But this... this was something he didn't know how to 
deal with.

By our standards the table was set modestly. There was 
a bowl of mashed potatoes, a bowl of green beans, a 
bowl of corn and a platter piled with gravy-covered 
brown meat. There were pitchers of some light brown 
liquid and that liquid was in some of the glasses set 
around the table. Other pitchers had milk in them and 
water. There was what had been a loaf of bread on a 
wooden board, with a knife lying beside it. And each 
child had his own plate, with food on it. Most of the 
children were chewing, or had food poised on a spoon 
between plate and mouth. 

One little boy had a piece of meat in the fingers of 
both hands, tearing at it with his teeth, his mouth 
circled with brown juices where the gravy had smeared 
his skin. He looked at Bobby curiously as he jerked his 
head to tear off a piece of meat, which he began to 
chew vigorously. 

To Bobby's eyes there was a feast spread on the huge 
table... more food than he'd seen in a long time. He 
jerked his eyes away from the food, assessing his 
surroundings. The adults were all women. There were no 
men present. No uniforms. No sap being slapped into a 
palm from time to time as an adult patrolled the eating 
area.

Bobby looked around, looking for the men who had to be 
there, ready to grab him and beat him if he made a 
wrong move. His eyes were a little wild as he looked 
for the danger he knew had to be there somewhere.

One of the women spoke.

"Mavis? He's almost a man! What's going on here?"

So that was the woman's name. Mavis. Bobby looked at 
her, to see what she'd do.

"Yes, there was some kind of mistake. They sent him 
here without even a coat! Lands sakes, I was afraid 
he'd freeze solid before I could get him here. I don't 
know what we're going to do with him. He can't talk. I 
don't think he's had anything to eat either."

At that she looked at Bobby, whose hand she still held, 
and who was still clutching his bag in his other hand. 
She dropped his hand and reached for the bag.

"Let me just take that Bobby, and we'll get you 
something to eat."

Bobby didn't know what to do. This all seemed too 
unreal to him. He knew he wasn't dreaming, but this was 
all wrong in his experience. He clutched his bag closer 
to him, acting on instinct.

Another woman stood up. "Mavis the poor thing's scared 
to death!" She moved toward Bobby. "He thinks you're 
going to take his things." 

Bobby looked at the woman, who was perhaps a little 
younger than Mavis. She had a more matronly look to 
her. She came up to him slowly, as if approaching a 
wild animal.

"Bobby?" she said, her voice soft and mellow. "I have a 
boy about your age. He's off in the war. Let me just 
put your things right over here." she patted an empty 
chair along the wall. "We'll just set them right here 
while you eat. Nobody will bother them. Aren't you 
hungry Bobby?" Her voice had taken on a high note, as 
if she were talking to a stray dog, trying to get the 
dog to come to her to be petted.

"He can't talk, Donna," said Mavis again, as if no one 
had heard her before.

"Well," said the woman named Donna. "You don't need to 
talk to get some food in you, now do you? Come along, 
Bobby, we'll make you a place. Please? Will you eat 
something for me?"

Stranger and stranger was how Bobby felt things were 
getting. The woman was actually asking him to eat, like 
it would be a favor to her. An old fairy tale Bobby had 
heard when he was little, and still had a mother, came 
to mind. It was about a boy and girl who were invited 
into a house made of Gingerbread. The woman who invited 
them in intended to cook them and eat them, but she 
tempted them with food.

Still, they were all eating the food... even the 
adults... and he was ravenous. The food smelled so 
good... looked so good.

One of the women got up and left, going to what Bobby 
supposed was the kitchen. She came back with another 
plate and glass and spoon. There was a general scooting 
of chairs, the adults helping move chairs with children 
still in them. One little girl, about seven, got down 
and pulled her own chair aside to make room for another 
one. She stared at Bobby with serious eyes and then 
climbed back up on her chair. Donna got another chair 
from against the wall and inserted it into the hole and 
Bobby sat down.

It was just natural that, when he sat down, Bobby sat 
and looked at his empty plate. In the places he'd lived 
somebody put food on your plate. If you reached for 
food you got the sap. Another of the women poured some 
of the brown liquid into his glass.

"It's just tea." she said, sounding apologetic for some 
reason. "We don't have sugar, of course." Nobody had 
sugar because of the war. Even Bobby knew that.

All the eating had slowed to a stop, with the exception 
of the little boy with the meat in his fingers, who was 
still chewing industriously on the bite he'd already 
torn off.

Donna spoke over Bobby's shoulder. "Patrick, how many 
times have I told you not to eat with your fingers? If 
you want your meat cut up all you have to do is ask.

The boy smiled and swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing 
as he forced the meat in his mouth down.

"Like it this way." he piped.

"Yes, dear, but it's not civilized," said Mavis. "You 
need to learn your manners if you want somebody to take 
you in."

The boy's jaw jutted slightly.

"Like it here." he said simply. Then he promptly put 
the piece of meat to his mouth and began worrying 
another hunk off.

Bobby couldn't believe the conversation he'd just 
heard. The boy had sassed and nobody had beaten him... 
not even a slap!

"Go on Bobby," said the mellow voice of Donna in his 
ear. "Eat something."

To his astonishment, the little girl who had moved her 
chair stood up on it, reached for the bowl of corn not 
far away, and handed it to him. Bobby didn't know what 
to do. He expected the girl to be disciplined for 
touching the food bowl, but it was obvious she expected 
him to take if from her. In HER defense he took the 
bowl, so that by the time an adult got there it 
wouldn't be in her hands.

At the same time he realized there WAS an adult 
standing right behind him, and she had made no move to 
slap the girl. There was a large spoon in the bowl. 
Tentatively Bobby took the spoon and scooped up ten or 
fifteen kernels of the gold food on the tip. He tensed 
as he transferred that to his plate, still expecting 
violence.

"Gracious sakes, boy, no wonder you're so thin," said 
Mavis. "You'll never grow strong eating like that!"

In an odd way, the censure in her voice, even though it 
wasn't angry, was something that Bobby expected and was 
comforted to hear. He was used to censure. And yet, it 
was clear from her statement that she expected him to 
take MORE!

It took another five minutes, and Bobby knew now that 
he was in some kind of supremely realistic dream. Hard 
as it was to believe, it became clear that, as long as 
there was food left, he could have as much as he 
wanted. He had arrived while supper was well in 
session, and the smaller children had already had most 
of what they'd eat, so the food in the bowls on the 
table was, for the most part, available to Bobby. 

Still wary, his eyes darted this way and that as he 
accepted the bowls that were passed to him. When the 
food on his plate was eaten and the bowls were passed 
to him again, he couldn't believe it, but took more 
anyway, now just trying to take advantage of his luck.

One of the women across the table was a pretty young 
woman with short straight bouncy blond hair, like the 
flappers had made popular in the twenties. She watched 
Bobby shoving food into his mouth and finally spoke.

"Mavis, this boy is going to eat us out of house and 
home."

Mavis swallowed some of her own food and chided the 
woman. "Meg, don't make the poor thing feel bad. I 
suspect he hasn't eaten in a while."

The little girl next to Bobby stood up on her chair 
again and strained to reach the bread, which hadn't 
been passed to Bobby yet.

"Emily!" said Donna, who, for some reason, was still 
standing behind Bobby. "You know better than to reach 
like that. Ask someone to pass it to you."

Emily, who had managed to get her thumb and finger on 
the platter, and had dragged it toward her, took it in 
both hands and presented it to Bobby. "You need a 
bath." she said seriously.

"Emily!" scolded the woman Mavis had called Meg. "Where 
are your manners tonight?"

Another little girl put her spoon down and spoke. "The 
Umpelty Oog got her manners."

Mavis took a drink of tea. "Constance, I've told you a 
hundred times... there is no such thing as an Umpelty 
Oog. He's all in your imagination dear."

Constance looked at Bobby with the same serious 
expression Emily had. "The Umpelty Oog lives in the 
closet. He comes out at night and scares us."

Bobby tried to chew and smile at the same time. He 
couldn't help smiling. She sounded so serious. He wiped 
the smile off his face quickly, though, before an adult 
could see it. Adults didn't like smiles.

"That's nonsense." pronounced Mavis, but she smiled.

Patrick had managed to swallow another glob of meat. He 
put the mangled piece of meat in his hands on his 
plate, almost daintily, and reached for his glass with 
both hands and the woman next to him put two fingers 
under it as it slipped in his greasy fingers. She kept 
her fingers there as he gulped milk. He set the glass 
back down as the woman deftly removed her supporting 
fingers as if it were the most normal thing in the 
world. Bobby stared at the smudges on the glass and 
then at the moustache of white that was on the boy's 
upper lip. Patrick wiped it away with his sleeve.

"I seen the Umpelty Oog one night. Wasn't skeered." He 
stuck out his chest, proud that he had faced the horror 
of the night like a man.

"Fairy tales!" snorted Mavis. 

One of the women who hadn't spoken yet wiped her lips 
with the corner of a napkin. She had been eating with 
one hand and spoon feeding a baby with the other. 
"Well, I wouldn't mind if the Umpelty Oog visited my 
house some night," she said.

Mavis almost choked on the food in her mouth. "Why 
Prudence Watson, you hussy!"

The woman named Prudence laughed. Her laughter made 
something deep inside Bobby want to twist and wriggle. 
She had auburn hair, and big thrusting breasts that 
strained the fabric of her dress where it covered them.

"Well if Harold can find some tart in France to leave 
me for, then at least I should get some kind of 
compensation, don't you think?"

Mavis looked sad, but then frowned. "That's no excuse 
to talk that way in front of the children," she said. 
"Your husband is fighting a war, and he's a long way 
from home. I know that's no excuse for being unfaithful 
to you, but that's no call for you to talk like a 
common whore."

Prudence got red in the face. "He's not being 
unfaithful to me Mavis. He told me in no uncertain 
terms that he's not coming back when the war's over. 
He's going to stay there with his French bitch and 
leave me all alone. As far as I'm concerned we're 
divorced and I can let any man in my bed I want to!"

Mavis's face had gone pale. She was visibly trying to 
control herself. "Mrs. Watson, I will NOT have that 
kind of talk at the dinner table, and ESPECIALLY not in 
front of the children. We all know how difficult this 
is for you, and our hearts go out to you, but I will 
not tolerate that kind of talk in polite company."

Prudence ducked her head.

"Of course, Mavis. I'm sorry. I have no idea what got 
into me," she said.

Donna suddenly laughed, and her laughter got harder and 
harder until she had to sit down. She did so right on 
top of Bobby's burlap bag, on the chair behind her. She 
bruised her buttocks on the carving in the bag and 
jumped back up, laughing harder still.

"What in the world's gotten into you?" said Mavis, 
starting to smile herself. When someone laughs that 
hard it's just natural to want to laugh with them. The 
other women around the table were smiling now too and 
even some of the children.

Donna laughed so hard she started coughing. Eventually 
she calmed and then giggled, holding her stomach until 
she could talk. "I'll get in trouble if I tell you." 
Then she started laughing again.

Meg giggled in sympathy. "Come on, tell us. We could 
all use a good laugh."

"It's horrible." she giggled. 

"What?" asked Prudence.

Donna took a deep breath, visibly trying to control her 
giggles. She looked at Prudence. "What you said... you 
said you didn't know what got into you. And I couldn't 
help but think what you HAVEN'T gotten in you lately." 
she giggled again. "and then Mavis wanted to know 
what's gotten into ME and I couldn't help but think 
about what hasn't gotten into ME lately either!"

She started cackling again, great heaving sobs of gut 
laughter as the women around the table came to the 
realization that she was talking about sex. It was too 
ludicrous not to be funny. Soon the room was filled 
with rueful laughter as the children looked on 
uncomprehending.


CHAPTER TWO


There were five women at Milleson House. They were the 
permanent staff members of the boarding-house-turned-
orphanage. Three of them had served guests when it was 
a boarding house. The other two had been hired on when 
the children arrived, and had been there now for three 
years.

Mavis Milleson, the owner, was forty years old and a 
widow. They had only been married for four years when 
her husband was killed in a mining accident. They had 
been unable to have children and, before he died, he 
had taken her to an orphanage back east to try to find 
a child for her to rear. That trip had been an eye 
opener for Mavis. She had been disgusted at the 
conditions the poor children had to endure, and had 
wanted to adopt them all. 

Her husband talked some sense into her, but the process 
wasn't even yet started to adopt a pair of children 
when he was killed and it all fell apart. She knew how 
those children were treated in the state-run 
institutions, and when she found out she might be able 
to rescue some of them she jumped at the chance. The 
fact that the Government subsidized her rescue mission 
was just frosting on the cake. Now Mavis couldn't even 
contemplate any other life.

Mavis, had she taken the time to pay attention, was 
still a handsome woman. Though there were a few gray 
hairs slipping into her thick hank of dark brown hair, 
she didn't notice them because she usually wore her 
hair up, in a bun. And at bedtime, she was too tired to 
stare into the mirror. The fact that she'd never had 
children, and was engaged in an active lifestyle, had 
ensured that her body was still firm and slim. Her 
breasts weren't overly large and she had no need to 
wear the stiff undergarments that were designed to 
support and control the sagging breasts of most women 
her age. Her waist was still thin and her hips swelled 
to make a perfect place for her skirts to hang from. 
There were men in town... before the war anyway... who 
had gazed longingly on those hips as she walked to and 
from the market. There were men who had stayed in her 
boarding house who were interested in her too. But 
she'd never taken the time to treat any of that 
interest seriously. She thought herself a sensible 
woman, and sensible women didn't dwell on dimly 
remembered pleasures. Just getting by was work enough 
that when she went to bed she was too tired to think of 
her unfulfilled physical needs.

Donna Pratt was one of the women who had worked at 
Milleson when it was a boarding house. She was now 
thirty-three. She married, at the tender age of 
sixteen, an older man, a farmer her father had done 
business with. Walter, her husband, had gotten her with 
child even though he was in his fifties at the time, 
and she had given birth to and raised a fine son. 

Life on the farm had been good, for the most part, even 
though her aging husband wasn't able to meet her sexual 
needs. She had only known one lover, and didn't really 
know what she was missing. She had found, long ago, 
that her fingers could bring her a very satisfying 
pleasure, though she'd never admit to anyone that she 
did that in the dark of night. She had also done 
something with her husband she couldn't bear to admit. 

When he was unable to achieve an erection any more, her 
love for him had led her to take him into her mouth. 
While he never got hard enough to service her starving 
pussy, she loved hearing his moans and gladly sucked 
the few drops of sexual nectar he could produce in 
those days. He had died peacefully in his sleep one 
night just before her son had decided to join the Army 
and go fight the Hun. She still lived on the farm, 
though she didn't work it. She rented out the land and 
took a share of the profit. Perhaps, when her son came 
back from the war he would work the land.

If he came back from the war.

Donna had grown into a lush figure, with large firm 
breasts and hips to match. She had never quite been 
able to get rid of the pad of flesh on her stomach that 
was left over after her son was born, but it didn't 
bother her any more. She, too, had been sought by men 
in the small community, but had rebuffed their 
attentions, choosing to enjoy her freedom to do what 
she wanted, when she wanted. Not that there was much to 
do. 

Still, it was nice to know she was under no man's 
thumb. The only real regret she had was that she had 
never had more children. When Mavis began taking waifs 
in, that urge abated somewhat. She was able to take 
care of babies, the thing she loved most, and even 
though they weren't hers, it was enough.

The other veteran of the boarding house phase of Mavis' 
life was Prudence Watson. Prudence was the only one of 
the women who had gone on to college after High School. 
She was ahead of her times in that society, being a 
confident woman who was willing to go up against a man 
to get what she wanted. The Depression had ruined that 
for her when her father, a successful merchant, lost 
everything and he could no longer afford her tuition. 
She had had to come back to Hamptstead, where she got a 
job working for Mavis. 

She accepted the attentions of George Watson, primarily 
because he spent money on her that her parents 
couldn't. Love grew grudgingly. He wasn't an 
imaginative man, but he had a job and there wasn't 
really anybody else in town she was attracted to. And, 
while he didn't make her heart flutter, he made her 
loins ache and she was tempted on many occasions to 
give in to his repeated attempts to claim her 
maidenhead. He was twenty-three to her twenty-two years 
in age and when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor and he 
decided to join up, she had, in a fit of emotion, 
married him before he left. 

After a thoroughly unsatisfying and somewhat brutal 
loss of her virginity, in succeeding sexual unions she 
had managed to get to the point where she had an orgasm 
while George lay on her gasping as he tried to get her 
pregnant before he left. But there had been just that 
one orgasm, at least with George. She too had figured 
out that her fingers were an acceptable replacement for 
what her husband was now using on some French slut who 
had stolen him away from her. She knew, at age 26, and 
with no children, she'd be a good catch for some man, 
but that was only if she somehow disencumbered herself 
from George. 

His letter saying he wasn't coming home might get her a 
divorce, but it would be horrifyingly embarrassing to 
go through that. All people would see was a young woman 
trying to divorce a GI, and would think her 
distastefully unpatriotic. More than once she'd wished 
he'd be killed in the war, which would make her 
situation quite secure. She also felt guilty about that 
on more than one occasion. Whenever that happened she 
just took his letter out and read it again. That solved 
that problem.

George's best attempts to impregnate her had failed. 
Prudence was torn between yearning to have her own 
babies, and being happy that he didn't leave her with 
child, considering what he'd now done.

Meg Johnson had come to work for Mavis after the war 
started, and after the boarding house had been 
transformed into an orphanage. She was eighteen on 
December the seventh, nineteen forty-one, and under 
extreme pressure from her wealthy parents to find a 
suitable man and settle down. Their idea of a suitable 
man and hers were widely diverse. Meg had a streak of 
wild woman in her, cultivated by stories her aunt 
Melvina told about the prohibition years, and the gin 
mills and dancing with men who pressed themselves 
against a girl in a way that made her want to do 
unseemly things with them.

Aunt Melvina had an old box of photographs that she 
kept in her closet and one day Meg got into them. At 
the very bottom was a picture of her aunt at about age 
nineteen. She was standing in a forest, by a huge rock, 
with a large body of water in the background, and she 
was completely naked. 

She was obviously completely unembarrassed about her 
nakedness, based on the smile on her face, and the fact 
that she was obviously posing for the photograph. Aunt 
Melvina had caught her looking at the picture and had, 
at first, scolded her, telling her that a thirteen year 
old girl had no business seeing photographs like that. 
But eventually aunt Melvina had told her the story of 
the handsome man who had taken that picture, and what 
they'd done after it was taken.

Meg had wanted to experience what she had seen in her 
aunt's face, and heard in her aunt's voice ever since 
that day. But she didn't want to experience it with the 
men her parents thought were "suitable". They were 
stuffy, self-important men who expected her to blush 
and flutter around them. All she did was think they 
were boring. She wanted a wild man, a western man, 
perhaps. Someone who would sweep her off her feet and 
make her life glorious. Then, perhaps, when she had 
tasted that sweet forbidden pleasure, she might be 
willing to settle down with a boring man.

The war gave her a reprieve, since most of the 
"suitable men" went off to be officers in the service. 
And working for Mavis not only convinced her parents 
that she was trying to be responsible and support the 
war effort by taking care of the unfortunate. 

Meg had learned something else from her aunt, and that 
was what the little bump at the top of the slit between 
her legs was for. It was for making her feel good until 
she found the man who would sweep her off her feet. She 
kept that little bump in good working order by using it 
every single night. Part of her employment contract was 
that she was supplied with a room in the house, and 
meals, which got her out of under the thumb of her 
parents, at least most of the time.

And, Meg found that she had something to offer the 
children. She loved to read to them, and became 
expressive when she did, making up voices for the 
characters in the stories she read. It wasn't at all 
unusual for all the children in Milleson House, except 
for the babies, anyway, to be in a pile around her 
feet, like a litter of puppies cuddling together, while 
she read stories until it was bedtime. More often than 
not the only reason she stopped was because Mavis made 
her stop. 

Last, among the women, not only in this story, but in 
real life as well, was Sally Winston, age twenty-three. 
Sally was, in a word, plain. She had always been plain, 
and would probably always be plain. Her nose looked a 
little off center, or maybe her eyes were too close 
set. Her hair was thin and a mousy brown color. She 
couldn't afford the special soaps that might have made 
it shine more, and it hung limp to her shoulder blades 
because she didn't know how to style it.

Her father was a mill worker who made enough to feed 
his eleven children, of which Sally was the youngest, 
but couldn't save anything for his retirement. Her 
mother was a walking talking baby machine who was thin 
and worn from taking care of so many children. Now, 
with only Sally left, they could relax, but that was 
about all they did. They too were singularly 
uninteresting and uninterested. Sally had lived at home 
because no men came calling to see her. She helped her 
mother around the house, and took the job Mavis offered 
her at church one day because she didn't have anything 
else to do. She also took it because it came with a 
room and board.

As the youngest, Sally had never had to take care of 
her brothers and sisters. She had always been on the 
low end of the totem pole and had learned, like Bobby, 
to be invisible as much as possible.

But working with the children had awakened something in 
her that had slowly bloomed over the years into a quiet 
pride that told her, if no one else did, that she was 
good with children. She also listened when Meg read 
stories, and put herself in those stories as deeply as 
the children did. She read the books on her own too. 
When she was in the fantasy world of a book her life 
had color and excitement.

Sally had a certain amount of scholarly knowledge about 
sex and how children were made but, to her own mind, 
she had never had a sexual feeling in her life. Her 
breasts were flat, mere swells on her bony chest. Her 
pubic hair was so sparse as to be almost invisible. She 
bled, more or less monthly, like other women, but her 
cycle was nowhere near regular or dependable. It was 
almost as if her body had suspended its glide toward 
maturity while she was right in the middle of puberty. 
And, with so many older brothers and sisters, who 
pursued their own agendas in the household, it was as 
if she were invisible as she grew up. 

Not that she was sad, or unhappy, particularly. It was 
more like she was a child who had been kept in a small 
room all her life, exposed to nothing much, and so she 
had no concept of what life could be like. True, she 
had been exposed to more than most with all her 
reading, but to her that was a dream, a fantasy... not 
real somehow.

***

The women watched in awe as Bobby kept eating. At some 
point it became a game, to urge him to eat more, just 
to see if he could. There were occasional surges of 
vocal emotion at seeing the boy eat like he had been 
starved for years.

"Lands sakes!"

"I can't believe it."

"The poor thing's starved half to death!"

"Take your time Bobby, nobody's going to take it away."

"Well, no leftovers tonight," said Mavis, standing up 
and picking up her plate.

"If you ask me there'll be no leftovers ever again." 
snorted Donna.

"That's fine," said Mavis evenly. "I always strain to 
think of ways to use leftovers anyway. But we'll have 
to go to town more often." Even though the merchant 
area of Hampstead was only a few blocks away, they all 
referred to that short trip as "going to town".

As for Bobby, he knew he would suffer for what he was 
doing. Once, when a truck had overturned near the 
orphanage he was staying in, he had picked up eight 
apples off the road while the driver screamed at him. 
He had run with the apples, eating one as he pounded 
away. Then he had hidden and eaten all the rest. He 
still remembered the sweet juicy taste of the fleshy 
fruit, and the agonizing pains in his suddenly 
overfilled stomach as he lay in the punishment room on 
a thin mattress that night.

But the food was so good he couldn't make himself stop 
eating it. That he was allowed to do so, and was even 
handed a knife to cut his meat with, caused a haze in 
his brain he couldn't quite see through and some part 
of him still expected to feel a blow as someone finally 
noticed that he was eating more than his share. He was 
almost glad when Meg tipped the bowl of green beans 
over his plate, scraping out the last eight or ten 
beans. There was no more food in sight, and he could 
sit back.

He was so stuffed that he didn't want to move, and gave 
a long sigh.

"Well" said Mavis. "You can't eat like that at every 
meal. You'll turn into a pig if you do. But we're glad 
to have you with us Bobby. I hope you'll feel at home 
here."

Bobby sat and wished he hadn't eaten so much. His 
stomach felt bloated and he was already uncomfortable. 
He watched as the children who were old enough all 
carried their plates into the kitchen, where the woman 
who hadn't spoken yet took them and stacked them in the 
sink. The cleanup was surprisingly quick and efficient.

"Bath night!" sang Prudence.

Bobby almost winced as the children erupted in shouts. 
"Bath time" in his memory consisted of being hosed down 
with cold water while you scrubbed with lye soap 
frantically, since the water wouldn't stop until the 
attendant thought you were clean.

But these children were jumping up and down, for the 
most part and he saw several of them dash into the 
parlor. They came back with books in their hands and 
clustered around Meg, holding the books up and crying 
"This one!" or "Read this!" among other things he 
couldn't quite make out.

Donna approached the group and began herding some of 
the children into a group as they complained. Bobby 
watched in amazement as he began to understand that one 
group would be taken to bathe while the other would be 
read to by Meg.

Since nobody seemed to be paying any attention to him, 
he just sat and watched.

But somebody WAS paying attention to him. One small 
pale girl stood between the group that was settling to 
the floor, or had climbed up to sit beside Meg on the 
settee where she sat, smoothing her skirts as books 
were piled on her lap. The girl looked uncertainly at 
the chattering children, and then at Bobby, who sat, 
leaning back in his chair, still at the table.

Slowly, almost like she was trying to sneak, she came 
to Bobby and took his hand, from where it lay in his 
lap. She pulled, looking somberly up at him with big 
brown eyes. He stood and she pulled him toward the 
group, which had now quieted as Meg sifted through the 
books on her lap. She looked up and saw Bobby standing, 
his hand in the little girl's.

She smiled. "Sit down, Bobby. I read to the children on 
bath night, and you're welcome to join us." She looked 
at the little girl. "Thank you June Bug. It was nice of 
you to invite Bobby." She pointed to a chair that was 
just far enough away from the crowd of children that 
none of them wanted to sit there.

Bobby sat down and was astonished to find that June Bug 
immediately crawled up on his lap. She sat, her legs 
straight out, and leaned back against his chest.

Meg was staring at Bobby and the girl with a strange 
look on her face. She saw the astonishment in Bobby's 
face and the placid look of something close to 
contentment on the little girl's face too.

"Bobby," she said quietly. "June Bug doesn't talk 
either. I think you've made a friend."

Bobby didn't know what to think. This place was so 
strange that he had no frame of reference on which to 
draw to decide how to act. He found it strange that a 
little girl would want to be his friend when they'd 
only just met. Always before he'd had to jump through 
all kinds of social hoops to establish his place in the 
hierarchy of whatever place he was living in. Sometimes 
that involved doing things for people. Sometimes that 
involved fighting. Sometimes it involved comparing 
stories and the intricate social dance that was casual 
conversation between people who are forced into close 
contact with each other.

But here, in this place where he had done nothing other 
than eat until his stomach ached, where he had said not 
one word, somebody had drawn near to him simply because 
he couldn't talk. It was an amazing social experiment 
that he'd never have thought of getting involved in, 
but which was suddenly fascinating. Not knowing what 
else to do, he decided to just sit. The little girl 
wasn't hurting anything. As long as she didn't pee on 
him or something he decided to just let her sit there.

While Donna and Prudence herded the unlucky children 
chosen to be hosed down first into another part of the 
house, Bobby sat and listened as Meg chose a book, 
opened it, and began to read.

He was entranced immediately. No one had ever read to 
Bobby in his life. Bobby knew what books were, of 
course. They had been used at one time or another in 
his education, which was based on the "Three Rs", 
Reading, Riting and Rythmatic. And, truth be known, 
Bobby was quite proficient at all three of the basics. 
That was primarily because, if one did well in school, 
one received less abuse, but the result was the same as 
if he had wanted to learn. 

He had once found most of a book in a trash heap. It 
turned out to be about four fifths of "Treasure 
Island". It had been involved in a fire, so both the 
front and back pages were missing. Still, Bobby had 
been able to figure out the basic idea of the book and 
he had been enthralled instantly, comparing himself to 
Jim Hawkins. There were a multitude of adults in his 
life who fit the personalities of Long John Silver and 
his crew of pirates, but the characters of people like 
Dr. Livesey and Captain Smollet remained a fantasy to 
him.

The tattered book was taken from him and thrown out as 
punishment for some forgotten misdeed. Bobby had always 
wondered how it ended.

Now, as Meg read a simple children's story, her lilting 
voice rising and falling, changing as the characters in 
the story changed, Bobby found himself transported in 
his mind, like reading Treasure Island had transported 
him to a hot, wet, dangerous, jungle island in some far 
away place when he read his book. 

It seemed like she had only been reading for a few 
minutes when six naked and screaming children, wrapped 
in towels, came running into the room. It was time to 
change over, and there were groans of dismay from the 
children who had been listening, eyes wide and mouths 
hanging open, as Meg read to them.

June bug hopped down off Bobby's lap and again took his 
hand, pulling at him.

Meg spoke to Prudence, who was herding the six unwashed 
children in the direction the naked ones had come from. 
"June Bug has adopted Bobby," she said. Then her mouth 
froze in a look of almost agony as she realized what 
she had said. "Adoption" was a very special word in 
this house, and not to be used flippantly.

Oddly, though, neither June Bug nor Bobby seemed to 
have taken what she said as she feared they might have. 

Prudence pulled at June Bug. "Well, Bobby can't take a 
bath with you little ones. You'll just have to leave 
him here for now. Don't worry, he's not going 
anywhere." 

The little girl reluctantly let go of Bobby's hand and 
he sat back, glad that he got to stay and listen to Meg 
read some more. 

Even though she started all over again, at the 
beginning of the story, Bobby didn't mind.

By now, Sally and Mavis had finished washing and drying 
the dishes, and emerged from the kitchen with armfuls 
of clothing, which they dropped in a heap on the floor. 
The five children who had just come from their bath 
unashamedly dropped their towels and dove into the 
pile, pulling out clothes to wear. They did so quietly, 
though, as Meg kept reading.

Astonishment was the mood of the day for Bobby. He 
watched as each child picked something to wear and, 
when that was done, Mavis and Sally picked up the rest 
and sat at the dining room table, folding those clothes 
into neat stacks and listening themselves as Meg read. 
Bobby estimated that there must be three or four sets 
of clothing for each child present. 

Only two children had tried to choose the same shirt to 
wear during the dressing process, but their struggle 
was silently cut short as Sally took the garment from 
them both, suggesting that if they fought over it, 
neither could wear it. Most of the clothing was too big 
for the children, and hung off their small frames, but 
none of them seemed to care. They were much more 
interested in settling in to listen.

Then, not long afterward, the whole hustle and bustle 
happened all over again as the remaining children, also 
naked, ran into the room, chose things to wear from the 
table and sat back down. The two babies were taken to 
the bath next, and it was then that Bobby realized he 
hadn't heard screams coming from the part of the house 
where bathing apparently took place. Most kids yelled 
at the cold water splashing on them. As Meg read on, 
part of his attention listened to hear the babies 
crying as they were bathed.

But they didn't.

When the babies were brought back, wrapped up in 
towels, carried by Prudence and Donna, Meg closed the 
book to moans of dismay and pleas for just one more 
page. Mavis and Sally went into action, though, saying 
"Bedtime" and "Early to bed... early to rise" and 
herding the children toward the big wooden staircase 
that led to the upper reaches of the big house.

Meg looked uncertainly at Bobby. "I suppose we should 
get you bathed too," she said. "I don't know how much 
you understand, but we'll manage. OK Bobby?"

Perhaps because he was so impressed with her reading, 
or for some other reason Bobby couldn't have 
articulated even if he had admitted being able to 
speak, he stood and followed the young woman as she 
went in the same direction as the other children had 
been led. He found himself taken to a large room, with 
a large white enameled bathtub that sat on clawed feet. 

It was hot in the room, and Bobby saw immediately that 
the heat came from a contraption that stood in one 
corner. It looked a little like a wood stove, also 
standing on clawed feet, with a fire box at the bottom 
and a tall round tank above that. There were pipes that 
went into the tank at the top and out of the tank at 
the bottom. The bottom pipe ran over above the tub and 
ended in a spigot there.

Meg opened the fire box and put in several pieces of 
coal from a bucket nearby and then turned to the tub. 
There was a small wet rag lying in the bottom of the 
tub near the drain and she stuffed that into the drain 
hole before turning on the tap. Steaming water began 
pouring into the tub from the tap.

Meg stood up and let the water run as she faced Bobby. 
"We have plenty of hot water, so that's no problem." 
She pointed to a cake of white looking soap on a 
windowsill above the tub. "That's the soap, and there 
are towels in the cupboard up here." she laid her hand 
on the cupboard. Will you be OK?" she asked.

Bobby just stood there. He had a very dim memory from 
long ago of his mother, and a tub like this, with warm 
water. He hadn't had a bath in a tub like this since 
that memory. He felt a clutching sensation in his 
stomach, but it wasn't from being overstuffed. That one 
little memory caused emotions to flow through him that 
were unwelcome. He didn't want to cry, certainly not in 
front of this woman, and he was perilously close to 
crying. That confused him and the safest thing to do 
was just stand still.

Meg looked concerned. "Bobby? Do you need help 
sweetheart?"

It was worse and worse, as far as Bobby was concerned. 
Nobody called him "sweetheart". The warmth of the 
house... the food... the acceptance of him by everyone 
without asking for anything from him... June Bug's hand 
in his... it all flushed through him like a tidal wave 
and he couldn't stop the tears that ran down his face. 
He rubbed at them furiously with his fists.

Meg reacted like she'd have wanted someone to react. 
She went to the young man and hugged him, murmuring 
that it would be OK, and that she understood, and that 
she knew this was all strange, but that everything 
would be all right." 

Then, thinking that this poor boy was much more simple 
of mind than he actually was, she began helping him 
disrobe for his bath.

The roil of emotions in Bobby was cut sharply by the 
feel if Meg's fingers undoing the buttons of his shirt. 
Already in unfamiliar and startling conditions, this 
added surprise was enough to keep him immobile as her 
soft hands slid the shirt off his shoulders and arms, 
where it dropped to the floor. 

Her hands went to the frayed hemp rope that held up his 
trousers and she worried the knot until it came loose, 
then he felt her fingers brushing the front off his 
loins as she undid the buttons of his fly. The pants, 
held up by nothing now, dropped, leaving him in his 
ragged drawers. Meg knelt and prodded him to lift one 
leg, talking soothingly to him, words he didn't even 
listen to in his state of shock. But her soothing tone 
did what it was intended to do and he stood docile as 
she pulled his drawers down and off, to leave him 
standing naked in the bathroom.

Meg felt her own measure of unusual and somewhat 
uncomfortable emotions as she made the mute boy naked 
in front of her. He was wiry, with a thin cover of skin 
over muscles that, while not large, felt firm to her 
fingers. He stank, as of stale sweat with a trace of 
dried urine. It was quite clear he had not bathed in a 
long while. This supported her conclusion that Bobby 
must have limited mental capabilities, something most 
people assumed about a person who could not speak. 

She was mildly curious about his penis, having seen 
only those of boys ten years old and younger. She 
stared curiously at the thatch of kinky brown hair that 
made a bed for his shriveled organ, and thought it 
looked a lot like her own pubic hair, except for the 
color. Meg was a natural blond and all her hair was the 
same color.

She stood to add cold water to the tub from another 
spigot that came from the wall and tested it repeatedly 
until the temperature of the water in the tub suited 
her. Bobby stood, uncertainly, watching. The hot water 
amazed him. There was no hose in sight, and that's what 
people used during baths, so even though he knew what a 
bathtub was, he still wasn't sure that this hot water 
and this tub were actually for him. That question was 
answered once and for all as Meg urged him to get into 
the tub. 

The warm water felt wonderful on his ankles, but that 
was nothing compared to the feeling he felt as she 
convinced him to sit and the water rose up above his 
legs, submerging them in welcome heat. He was enjoying 
that so much that he did nothing else but concentrate 
on the feeling. She pressed something into his hand and 
he saw it was the soap she'd pointed to earlier. It 
wasn't coarse and gray like the soap he was used to. He 
lifted it to look at it more closely and it felt 
slippery in his hand. It smelled good too, and he 
lifted it closer to his nose, breathing in. It was 
amazing.

Meg watched the boy - she no longer thought of him as a 
young man - smelled the soap like it was the first time 
he'd ever done that. She stood back up and hissed as 
she saw the old, healed stripes on his back, remnants 
of a whipping with a strap that he'd gotten when he was 
only ten and had stolen bread from the kitchen in the 
institution he was housed in at that time. She felt a 
rush of mingled sympathy and red-hot anger as the wide-
eyed boy looked up at her in response to her disgusted 
response to the scars.

"Here." she said, reaching for the soap. "Let me help."

Bobby was sixteen, though he looked closer to fourteen 
or fifteen. But his body was that of a boy well into 
puberty. While he had never had a girlfriend, and his 
exposure to females had been severely restricted, his 
body knew what to do when it felt a woman's soft hands 
sliding over it. Meg, while she thought of him as a 
poor simple minded boy, still realized on some level 
that the body she was stroking was not only male, but 
well grown. 

HER exposure to men had also been limited, and while 
she had seen the instinctive erections that all males 
have, they had always been on boys who were so young 
that those erections, for the most part, more nearly 
resembled one of her own fingers than what she would 
have thought of as "an erect male organ."

And so, when she had finished washing his smooth chest, 
and scarred back, and told him to stand so she could do 
his legs, she was completely unprepared for the change 
that had taken place in that shriveled penis she had 
seen only moments before.

Bobby had the sexual equipment of a full grown man.

Meg stared in awe at the dripping erection that bobbed 
in front of her eyes. It looked huge to her, even 
though it was quite normal by comparison to most men. 
The tip was sheathed in a thin covering that Meg knew 
was his foreskin. She had seen plenty of those on the 
babies whose diapers she changed. Most of those had 
been wrinkled pointy things on the end of the baby's 
penis that had to be skinned back and cleaned under 
during a diaper change.

But the one on Bobby's penis was stretched tightly over 
something that bulged under it. Meg's soapy hands 
reached for it before she thought about what she was 
doing, and she grasped the penis firmly, sliding her 
hand toward the base, to see what was under that 
tightly stretched skin.

Bobby saw Meg's hand move to his penis, which he knew 
was hard. It got that way sometimes, and it felt 
different when it did that, but he hadn't given it a 
lot of thought. Even though his penis had taken on 
adult features, living in orphanages, where there was 
no privacy at any time, prevented him from finding out 
what most boys found out about their stiff sexual 
organs. Bobby had never played with his penis while it 
was hard.

The feelings that resulted from Meg's soapy hand 
sliding along his penis shocked Bobby to his core. He 
had never felt anything that was like that. A small 
sound forced itself out of his throat as her hand slid 
back toward the tip.

Meg was surprised to find that what was under the thin 
skin looked pretty much like what was under a baby's 
foreskin. It was MUCH larger, of course, but the shape 
was about the same. And, of course if felt different in 
her hand. It filled her hand, for one thing, something 
no younger child's penis had ever done, and that made 
it feel completely new and unique. It was strangely 
hard and soft at the same time too, and that made it 
very different than anything else she had ever felt. 
She thought back to what Prudence and Donna had laughed 
about at supper. THIS was what neither of them had 
had... in them... for so long.

She realized suddenly what she was doing and opened her 
hand. Then her curiosity gripped her again and she slid 
her hand under the stiff organ to cup Bobby's 
testicles. While before she hadn't even noticed them, 
now she felt them full and round under his penis. They 
were much softer than they initially felt and she 
squeezed them gently, feeling the harder, smaller 
things inside. Bobby's hips jerked as she squeezed too 
tightly and he pulled away.

She looked up to see him staring down at her, his mouth 
open.

She felt her face get hot as she blushed. "Sorry." she 
murmured. "I'll be more gentle, OK?"

He made no response and Meg shook her head to clear it. 
She became more businesslike and washed his legs. Her 
soapy hand slid up the inside of his thigh in the back 
and she just naturally forced it between tightly 
clenched buttocks to clean him there too. He made 
another sound and bent forward slightly, then stood 
back up, his butt cheeks clenching even more tightly.

But she was done there and told him to sit back down. 
The water was grayish, so she turned on the hot water 
tap again and held a pitcher under it, moving it to the 
cold tap to finish filling it. She poured half of it 
over his head as he sputtered and wiped his eyes and 
giggled at that as she attacked his hair with the soap.

"Keep your eyes closed tight." she warned as she 
kneaded his scalp with her fingers. Then when she was 
satisfied she began to pour the rest of the water on 
his hair to rinse it, reminding him again to keep his 
eyes closed tight. He didn't sputter and spit this 
time. She told him to keep his eyes closed as she got 
another pitcher of rinse water and got all the suds out 
of his hair.

"OK, up and out." she ordered.

Bobby, by now, was immensely happy about this bath, and 
didn't want it to end at all. His belly was full, and 
he was warm and her hands felt wonderful sliding over 
his skin. He looked for the soap, which she had put 
back on the windowsill, and reached for it, trying to 
get her to wash him again.

Meg laughed. "You're clean enough. Now, out of there 
and let's get you dried off."

Reluctantly he stood and stepped out of the tub. Meg 
ran the rough towel all over his body, paying perhaps a 
little more attention to his still stiff penis than was 
needed, and then threw the towel on top of a pile of 
others in one corner of the room. It suddenly occurred 
to her that he had nothing to put on. She looked at the 
clothing on the floor and said "You can't wear that. It 
will have to be washed." 

She was startled as he darted to the pants and picked 
them up, his hand digging in the pocket. It came out 
with a grimy and mangled toothbrush that he held 
tightly in his hand as he dropped the pants back to the 
floor. Then he just stood there again. Simple though he 
may be, she couldn't let him run out into the house 
like the other children did, especially since there was 
nothing in the pile of clothes out there that would fit 
him. She remembered his burlap bag, and correctly 
assumed he had more clothing in that.

"You stay right here and I'll get you something to 
wear," she said. 

She left, closing the door at the feel of the much 
cooler air outside the bathroom and went into the 
dining room, where his bag had been left. Only Mavis 
was there, the others having taken the children to 
their beds.

"Where have you been?" asked Mavis.

"I was giving Bobby his bath," said Meg, her mind on 
the burlap bag.

"What!?" gasped Mavis. "He's a grown man!"

Meg stopped, her mind realizing what Mavis was 
thinking.

"He may be grown, but he's a poor simple-minded boy 
inside," she said. "He couldn't even undress himself. 
He acted like he'd never had a bath in his whole life! 
I had to do something," she said. "And now he's 
standing in there naked with nothing to put on. Where 
are the clothes he brought with him?"

Mavis found it easy to believe that Bobby was simple 
minded, and that put him in the same category as a 
child in her mind. She relaxed. 

"He didn't bring much. No coat even. That bag was all 
he had when he got off the train," she said.

Together they dumped the bag's contents on the table 
and then stared at it in horror. The shirt and pants 
were soiled, and the undergarments were tattered.

"What in the world is this?" asked Mavis, holding up 
what was obviously a pair of women's underwear.

"I have no idea," said Meg wonderingly. "Do you suppose 
he stole them?"

Mavis snorted. "Where in the world would a boy like him 
find a pair of those to steal?" she picked up his shirt 
and set it to one side. His pants followed. "Though to 
be honest, if this is all he has I could understand why 
he'd steal anything he could get his hands on."

Meg picked up a wrinkled and bent tube of white. "Why 
this is a cigarette of all things!" she said.

All that was left was the chocolate bar, bent now, and 
the lump of wood that lay on the table. Meg picked it 
up and turned it in her hands. She gasped as the dog's 
face was revealed.

"What?" asked Mavis, peering at the thing in Meg's 
hand.

"It's beautiful!" sighed Meg. "Look, it's been carved. 
It's exquisite!"

Mavis took it and admired the fine lines and realistic 
nature of the carving. "It IS beautiful" she agreed. 
"But only part done. Do you suppose HE did this?"

Together they pawed through the wretched pile of 
clothes on the table, but found no knife. It was a 
mystery they'd have to solve later.

"We can't put him in these," said Meg distastefully as 
she poked at the shirt and pants.

Mavis put her hand to one breast. "You know, I saved 
some of Randolph's nicest things. I couldn't bear to 
throw them out when he died. His Sunday shirts and 
such. Now where did I put them?" She suddenly moved 
toward the single bedroom that was on the ground floor. 
Mavis retained that one for herself. Meg followed and 
saw Mavis get to her hands and knees and peer under the 
bed. She reached under, stretching, and pulled out a 
bundle, wrapped in cloth. Picking it up she laid it on 
the bed and undid the strings tied around it.

"This is them. I kept them under my bed because it made 
me feel closer to him when..." She didn't finish. It 
was too personal and she felt foolish. But now she was 
glad she'd saved these few things. She lifted a white 
shirt, and another that was dark blue with a white 
collar. Under them were two pairs of trousers, one wool 
and the other finely woven cotton. Both were black. 
There was a pair of suspenders folded neatly between 
them.

"He's smaller than Randolph, of course," said Mavis, 
"but we can alter them to fit. They'll have to do for 
now."

Together they left the room, carrying the clothing with 
them. Mavis selected the white shirt and the cotton 
trousers to take to Bobby and, together they went to 
the bathroom. They opened the door to a cloud of steam. 
Bobby had re-filled the tub with hot water and was 
lying in it, his head back, and his eyes closed, a wide 
smile on his face.

It took them a while to coax him out of the tub. The 
impressive erection he had sported before had wilted 
again, from lack of continued stimulation and the heat 
of the water. When they got the shirt on him it hung 
low enough to cover his penis and, since it was bedtime 
anyway, they decided he didn't need the pants until 
morning.

While Meg had bathed Bobby, Mavis had made some changes 
in the sleeping arrangements. She didn't want Bobby 
sleeping in a room with smaller children. He was too 
big, and she still didn't know his temperament. So she 
had put a third child in two more rooms, to make an 
empty bed for Bobby. The children who were moved didn't 
mind. It was an adventure to them. And quite often all 
the children cuddled together in one bed anyway, like 
puppies, when they slept. So one more just added a 
little body heat.

Bobby, exposed to yet another astonishment as he was 
led to his own bed, which was soft and had three quilts 
on it, and even a real pillow. He was alone, which made 
it seem a little like a punishment room, but it wasn't 
anything like a punishment room in any other way. He 
let himself be put into bed. He was so relaxed from the 
hot soak and everything else that had happened that 
day, that his defenses were abated. 

When the two women kissed him on the forehead and 
wished him good night it was more than he could take. 
Tears leaked from his eyes as he rubbed them with his 
fists. He wanted to say something, but knew that would 
ruin everything good that had happened to him on this 
amazing day. Instead he lay in the bed as the women 
left the room and turned off the light.

Mavis had tears running down her face too. She had seen 
the scars on his back while they clothed him, and his 
tears when he was in bed.

"He breaks my heart." she said, her voice catching.

"I know," said Meg. "I know."


CHAPTER THREE


The next few days convinced Bobby that he was not in a 
dream. He didn't understand a lot of what went on, but 
he recognized that something wonderful had happened to 
him. He watched carefully, picking up information on 
rules and regulations, which were actually just a way 
of behaving that the women insisted on. None of the 
children were ever beaten, though the two youngest got 
swats on the butt occasionally. The way they cried made 
it sound like they'd been beaten, but Bobby knew what a 
real beating was.

That he had to help out around the house was a given, 
at least in his mind. One of his jobs was to replenish 
all the coal buckets for the various appliances in the 
house that used coal. That included the stove in the 
kitchen, and another of those amazing water heating 
things that hung on a wall above the kitchen sink. It 
was smaller than the one in the bathroom. 

Additionally there were small pot-bellied stoves set in 
various places around the house. Not every bedroom had 
one, though most did. Mavis had one in her bedroom and 
both of the women who lived in the house - Sally and 
Meg - had stoves in their rooms. There were ten coal 
buckets in all that had to be filled daily. The one in 
the bathroom only needed it once, because, as it turned 
out, baths were only given once a week. And the buckets 
in the kitchen needed to be filled several times a day, 
since those appliances were used more than the others, 
and laundry was done there.

He was also pressed into service outside, once they 
went to town and found him clothing and a coat to wear. 
The local church collected clothing for them, and when 
it was learned that a simple-minded young man had 
arrived the donations increased. Suddenly Bobby had 
more clothing than he had a place to put it all. His 
bag was soon full and it took Prudence half an hour to 
convince him that it was all right to put his clothes 
on the shelf in his room. He had tried to touch nothing 
in the room other than the bed, because he still 
assumed that this room belonged to someone else and he 
didn't want to be thrown out of this amazing place for 
stealing or doing something wrong.

He found that all meals were like the one he'd walked 
in on, and that he didn't have to gorge because they 
got fed three times a day. And in the evening, every 
other night, Meg usually, but sometimes Donna or 
Prudence, read to the children from books. Bobby had 
looked into the parlor, where those books came from, 
and was astonished to see two whole shelves of them, 
some thick, most thinner. He'd been afraid to touch 
them and left immediately, his fingers itching to 
caress them and read what was on their spines.

He found that pantomiming what he wanted was fairly 
easy, and his new-found habit of not talking got easier 
and easier as the need to talk waned. His needs thus 
far had been simple. He had far more now than at any 
time in his life he could remember.

He'd been at Milleson House for four days when Meg 
approached him.

"Bobby? That carving in your bag. Did you do that?"

Bobby wasn't surprised that they'd gone through his 
bag. When he'd reclaimed it on his second day and gone 
through it himself, only the cigarette was missing. He 
didn't blame someone for stealing it. He hadn't really 
wanted it anyway. You just never turned down anything 
someone offered you.

He nodded his head.

"It's beautiful Bobby. Why didn't you finish it?" asked 
Meg.

Bobby pantomimed a knife, opening and closing and then 
threw it away from him.

"You threw away your knife?" asked Meg, confused.

Bobby couldn't make her understand that it had been 
stolen from him. He saw a piece of paper on the table, 
with a pencil nearby, where Mavis had been making a 
shopping list. He went to the table, flipped the paper 
over and wrote on the back.

"They steal."

He held up the paper and Meg looked like she might 
faint dead away.

"You can WRITE?!" she gasped.

Bobby nodded. Everybody could write, couldn't they?"

Meg actually ran, yelling at the top of her lungs "HE 
CAN WRITE! BOBBY CAN WRITE!"

Within minutes all five women were in the room, 
clustered around Bobby, who thought now that he had 
made the fatal mistake that would get him thrown out. 
There was a general hubbub of noise as the women 
exclaimed about this "amazing" ability in a boy they 
thought had the mind of a seven or eight year old. Each 
one examined the words Meg swore he had written.

Finally Mavis held up her hands for quiet. She turned 
to Bobby. "Did you write this?" she asked. Meg snorted 
at being suspected of playing a trick... or worse.

Nobody looked angry and for once Bobby decided not to 
go with his natural instinct to deny everything. He 
took a chance and nodded.

Mavis put the paper down and picked up the pencil, 
handing it to him. "Write something else."

A lot of things went through Bobby's mind at that 
instant. He didn't know what they wanted, or what would 
be the "right" thing to write. He thought of the safest 
thing and, more slowly than he needed to, wrote:

"Bobby," and then, as an afterthought, beside that, 
"thank you".

To the women it looked like he had tried to write a 
sentence: "Bobby thank you."

If there had been hubbub before, there was a true 
celebration now. Even though the women still thought 
his mental age to be young, they had elevated it to 
maybe ten or twelve, based on his ability to ALMOST 
write a complete sentence.

After that the level of baby talk directed toward Bobby 
went down and the amount that he was expected to do 
around the house went up. Not that he was strained at 
all. In fact he enjoyed the work he was assigned. He 
helped with the children, even feeding one of the 
babies for Donna one time when there was a spill 
"disaster" at the table which involved changing the 
clothes of two children and cleaning up the table, 
floor and two chairs. 

That night it snowed. 

Bobby had seen snow before, but never like this. It was 
western Nebraska, and it snowed two and a half feet.

The next morning he awoke to stretch in his bed, warm 
and comfortable, something he was gradually getting 
used to. Sally, whose voice he had only heard perhaps 
ten times in the six days he'd been at Milleson House, 
stuck her head through the door and, in her soft lilt, 
said "Bobby, you're needed to clear the snow."

She was gone again almost immediately, expecting him to 
get up and do whatever was necessary. He rose and 
rubbed at the thick slick of frost on the window. His 
room was on the highest floor of the house, and through 
the small clear space he'd made he saw a blanket of 
white that covered everything for as far as he could 
see. He quickly got dressed and went downstairs.

Breakfast at Milleson House was a casual affair. Mavis 
got up early and cooked, leaving the food on the stove 
to stay warm. The children were fed by one or two of 
the staff as they were pulled from their beds and 
dressed by the others. So they trickled into the 
kitchen in ones or twos, sitting down and waiting until 
food appeared in front of them. Bobby had learned, to 
his further amazement, that it was all right for him to 
feed himself whenever he came into the kitchen, and he 
did so this day, eating quickly.

No adults were in the kitchen when he got there. He had 
just finished eating a strip of bacon when Mavis 
hustled in, already looking tired.

"Bobby dear, Donna and Prudence are probably snowed in, 
since they haven't arrived yet. I need you to make a 
path to the street so that IF they get here they'll be 
able to get to the house."

Bobby nodded and dressed in the warm coat that was now 
his pride and joy. It had belonged to Oscar 
Hammerschmidt, the banker in Hampstead, and it had a 
real fur collar attached to the thick gray wool that 
made the coat long enough that it went clear to Bobby's 
calves. 

Another gift from the people of Hampstead was a worn 
pair of cowboy boots, two sizes too large, but, when 
stuffed with newspapers or socks, stayed on his feet 
and kept them surprisingly warm as long as he didn't 
stay out in the cold too long. Though down in the heel, 
they had been frequently oiled over their previous life 
and were, for the most part, waterproof. An old 
coonskin hat that came from who knew where topped off 
his costume. He'd never have worn it back east, but it 
kept his head toasty warm... and this place was 
different. 

Armed with a grain scoop provided by Mavis, Bobby 
attacked the snow, which was thankfully light and 
fluffy. Clearing a path to the street took him only ten 
minutes, so he widened it and then expanded it along 
the edge of the street in both directions. Next he 
shoveled the snow from around Mavis' car, which looked 
almost buried. He knocked the snow off the car and then 
had to shovel that away as well. 

He went back inside and filled all the coal buckets 
from the big coal bin in the basement.

After that he sat down at the table with a cup of hot 
tea and waited for something else to do. He 
automatically got food for the last few children who 
straggled into the dining room. Finally Mavis, Sally 
and Meg arrived back in the kitchen and began to feed 
themselves and the two babies, who they had gotten up 
last.

Five minutes later Prudence stomped through the door, 
her skirt crusted with snow. She had put on an old pair 
of bloomers, which were also crusted with snow and her 
high topped shoes were white with the snow frozen to 
them.

"Sorry." she said tersely.

Mavis waved a hand. "I'm amazed you got here at all. 
Where in the world did you find those?" she laughed, 
pointing at the white bloomers under Prudence's skirt.

"They're my mother's" said Prudence, grinning. "I'm not 
quite ready to wear slacks yet. I thought they'd help. 
Besides, it's only six blocks" said Prudence, rubbing 
her calves. "I can't feel my legs, though."

It was Bobby who thought of the bathtub. He went and 
added coal to the fire they kept burning or banked at 
all times under the water heater and blew the embers to 
make the additional coal catch. Then he took the big 
ash bucket, which he had emptied that morning, and 
washed it out before filling it with hot water. It was 
a three gallon bucket, made of tarnished copper, but he 
was able to lug it out to the kitchen, where he set it 
on the floor beside Prudence, who was eating. 

He pointed at the water, and then at her feet.

"Why Bobby!" she squealed. "How thoughtful!"

She stood up and started pulling her bloomers off, 
reaching under her skirt to pull them past her hips. 
That required some rather significant wiggling, since 
the waistline of the bloomers was under the waistline 
of her skirt. Then she had to sit to remove her shoes 
and pull them off her feet. In the process Bobby was 
treated to a long expanse of naked legs, spread in a 
most immodest way that Prudence wasn't aware of because 
all her attention was on getting her legs and feet bare 
so she could put them in the hot water.

Meg, however, noticed Bobby's wide eyes as he saw 
glimpses of Prudence's bare thighs. Not wanting to 
embarrass Prudence, Meg went to stand in front of 
Bobby, her body blocking his vision.

"Thank you Bobby" she said sweetly, swaying sideways as 
he automatically tried to lean to one side to maintain 
his view of a real woman's naked legs. "Won't you get 
her a towel too?"

Bobby figured out what she was doing as he swayed back 
the other direction and she went with him. He grinned 
sheepishly and turned to go get the towels.

When he came back the women were discussing the fact 
that school had been supposed to start back up after 
the Christmas vacation in two more days, but now it was 
likely that would be delayed. Bobby hadn't though about 
school since arriving. He'd been to both public schools 
and in orphanages that had their own school. 

He didn't like the public schools, because everyone 
made fun of the orphans and he got into lots of fights. 
The orphanage schools were fraught with danger, but 
that was from adults, not other students. He wasn't 
excited about going back to school, especially if he 
maintained his mute status. He had no idea how that 
would go, but he didn't have any reason to think it 
would be any fun.

He spent the rest of the day taking the older children 
outside to play in the snow. It was deep enough, 
especially where he had piled it up with his grain 
scoop, that he could get on his hands and knees and dig 
tunnels in it for the younger children to crawl 
through. They loved it.

Ironically it was an adult who introduced the children 
to snowballs, and not Bobby. He had thrown a snowball 
one time that got him a week in the punishment room, so 
he didn't think about using snow that way any more. It 
was Meg who came outside, dressed in a coat and 
dungarees. She threw the first snowball, and she threw 
it at Bobby, hitting him on his left hip.

He turned to find her grinning at him and making 
another snowball, which she also threw at him, but 
missed.

"Betcha can't hit me." she taunted, trying to dart this 
way and that, but foundering in the deep snow. She 
laughed as she fell down, but scrambled back up and 
made two more snowballs which she lobbed toward Bobby, 
before he finally made one of his own. He threw that 
one and she turned her back, taking the snowball there.

Then the war was on as the other kids mimicked them, 
and laughter rang out all over the yard. Everything 
went fine until, at one moment, with her coat hanging 
open, Meg took one of Bobby's snowballs right in the 
gap between the first button of her blouse and her 
chin. The light snow splattered, driving downward into 
her blouse and filling the cleavage in her bra.

Her look of amazement as she automatically bent forward 
in a vain attempt to make the snow fall lower, and then 
her screech, sent bolts of concern to Bobby's brain. He 
had hurt an adult!

Meg turned and ran into the house, and Bobby, not 
knowing what else to do followed her. He arrived to see 
her coat on the floor of the dining room as she danced 
around.

"It's so COLD!" she squealed. 

Mavis looked up from some mending she was doing.

"Of course it's cold. It's winter." she said calmly.

"Noooo I got snow down my blouse!" squealed Meg. Her 
arms suddenly disappeared, like magic, as if they had 
been sucked into the blouse and then her blouse looked 
like there were two raccoons wrestling under it as she 
reached behind her to unclip her bra. The garment 
dropped to the floor, the empty cups upward and crusted 
with snow.

"That's better," said Meg, shuddering as she stuck her 
arms back out the arm holes of her blouse.

Bobby stared. In the heat of the room the melting snow 
had made the front of her blouse wet, and her spiked 
nipples poked through the pale cloth, dark enough to be 
seen through the fabric.

Meg looked at Bobby's shocked face, and then down at 
the two prominent bumps on the front of her blouse and 
blushed.

"Perhaps I should go put on another blouse," she said.

Mavis laughed. "Unless you want to put ideas in that 
boy's head I'd say you're right."

Meg bent over and picked up her bra and then dashed for 
the stairs, and her room on the second floor.

Bobby, astonished yet again that no one was mad at him 
for what had happened, turned and went back outside to 
keep an eye on the other children.

At supper that night Bobby felt like Meg looked at him 
somehow differently than she had before. She didn't 
look angry, but she looked at him more often. He was 
wary of looking back at her.

That night was bath night.

Bobby settled into a chair while half the kids were 
whisked off to the big tub and Meg selected a book to 
read to the others. June Bug immediately crawled up on 
his lap and leaned back.

Meg had decided to begin (probably for the fourth or 
fifth time since she'd worked at the home) Alice's 
Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass. 
A few of the older children had heard the story before, 
but that didn't matter. Bobby was hooked immediately as 
Meg's hypnotic voice began the tale of the little girl 
and the strange characters she interacted with.

He didn't notice as the bath shift changed, and June 
Bug crawled down off his lap, to be replaced by Emily, 
who settled in just as comfortably as June Bug had.

"You're not stinky tonight" she commented. Bobby wanted 
to laugh. Since the last bath night Emily had sat on 
his lap at least four or five times. Some nights it was 
while someone read to them on the cold evenings. On 
other nights the big Motorola radio was turned on. The 
adults huddled around it, listening to Walter Winchell 
or someone else report on the war. 

Some nights they listened to the Inner Sanctum, or The 
Shadow, which held both the children and adults in 
thrall as they listened to the drama play out. Bob Hope 
was another favorite, though again, mostly with the 
adults. Emily sat on his lap then too, if June Bug 
wasn't already there, huddling against him during tense 
moments in the dramas. She had never mentioned his... 
odor... during those nights. But, it being bath night 
again, she apparently felt compelled to comment.

Meg looked up from the book. "Emily, everybody has to 
take a bath, whether they need one or not."

Emily smiled "I know. I just like the way he smells." 
she said, snuggling against him and pulling his arms 
around her. She was still wrapped in her towel, her 
hair damp. 

Donna dropped a towel on her head. "You're not even dry 
yet, little missy. Dry off and get dressed or you'll 
catch your death of cold.

"I want Bobby to dry me." whined the little girl.

Meg's eyes widened a bit, then relaxed back to normal 
as Bobby picked up the towel and ruffled the girl's 
hair with it. Then he pushed her off his lap and 
pointed to the pile of clothing, looking back at Meg, 
and then the book in her hands, with a silent plea to 
keep reading.

Meg went on reading from where she'd left off, even 
though the kids listening now hadn't heard the 
beginning. It didn't matter to them. They just loved 
huddling together while Meg's melodious voice lifted 
and fell as she illustrated the characters with her 
voice.

All too soon, at least as far as Bobby was concerned, 
the other children were back, capering around naked as 
they picked out clothes from the pile on the floor to 
wear to bed. They dallied, knowing that, as soon as 
they were dressed for bed, they'd be hustled off to 
cold sheets in dark rooms. He wanted to groan as Meg's 
slim-fingered hands closed the book and she stood up.

"Your turn Bobby." she said, looking at him with a 
glint in her eye.

Bobby followed her, almost eagerly, this time, to the 
bathroom. His memory of the last time this had happened 
to him caused him to react before they even got there. 
He knew he should take his clothes off, but he also 
knew that, if he didn't, she would take them off for 
him. He had enjoyed that last time, so he stood and 
waited as she filled the tub with hot water.

The glint was still in her eye when she turned and 
began unbuttoning his rough shirt. They had found him a 
pair of suspenders somewhere, which had replaced the 
rope he used to keep his over-sized pants up, and when 
she pushed the straps off his shoulders his pants fell 
like they had lead weights in them. They caught on his 
stiff prong, which bent downwards until the pants were 
dragged off of them, and then sprang upward again to 
slap his abdomen with an audible sound. It settled 
then, bobbing in the air as Meg looked down at it.

She knelt, her eyes glued to his organ, as her hands 
reached to make him lift a foot out of the pants. It 
bobbed again as he did that, and kept moving as he 
lifted his other foot too, placing it to one side. Meg 
breathed in and found his odor to be much nicer than 
last time, like Emily had said. She found herself 
breathing deeply as she stood back up and pushed 
Bobby's shirt off his shoulders, to leave him standing 
naked in front of her. She had the strangest urge to 
hug him... to feel his body against hers, and blushed 
at her improper thought.

"In the tub" she said, having to clear her throat.

Bobby got in the tub and sat down, this time, without 
having to be told. He looked up at the window sill, 
where the soap was.

Meg felt her nipples tightening under her dress, 
something that usually only happened when she was in 
bed, alone with her thoughts. She felt the urge to 
squeeze them, as she sometimes did in the dark, but 
resisted. She reached for the soap and got her hands 
frothy before she began sliding them over the young 
man's shoulders and back. Her sensitive fingertips felt 
the welts and healed scars from his past beatings and 
her heart again melted at the thought of what this poor 
boy had been through.

"You're a handsome boy." she said, talking more to 
herself than to him... letting her thoughts flow. "A 
strong boy." she murmured.

Bobby looked at her and grinned. Her hands felt so good 
sliding across his skin that he felt an excitement that 
was both foreign and welcome at the same time. He 
thought about her hands on his penis last time and, 
when that excitement built even more he suddenly stood 
up and faced her, his hips jutting forward, his stiff 
penis pointing at her face where she knelt by the tub.

Meg was excited too. She too remembered washing his 
erection last time. His actions made it clear that, 
despite his simple-mindedness, he felt pleasure, like 
other men.

She looked up at him, his serious eyes looking down at 
her.

"You like it when I wash you there?" she said.

He nodded.

Her hand came up and grasped his rod. Both of them 
sighed as she squeezed and ran her hand up and down its 
rigid length. Her other hand came up and cupped his 
balls.

"This is handsome too." she said, staring at the head 
as it was uncovered and then covered up again by the 
action of her hand. She squeezed his balls gently. "And 
these... these are handsome." She watched as his eyes 
half-closed in pleasure. "Do you know what these are 
for?" she asked, half out of curiosity and half to try 
to establish his mental level.

Bobby had some vague images in his mind that were based 
on talk among boys who made what sounded to Bobby like 
fantastic claims about what could be done with the 
thing in her hand. He knew it was used to make a baby 
in a woman, but the how of it was something hazy in his 
mind. It had something to do with kissing, he knew. One 
boy had said "You kiss the girl and then you make a 
baby in her." Bobby had wondered about that. He had 
seen people kissing each other... had gotten a beating, 
in fact, when he walked into the kitchen one time while 
one of the attendants was kissing a cook, his hands 
rubbing the woman's chest like Meg had just rubbed his 
own. But the cook hadn't had a baby.

As a result of the vagueness of his understanding, 
Bobby felt the best thing to do was just shake his head 
"No."

Meg felt a naughty thrill shoot through her at the 
innocence of his response. She knew she should stop 
what she was doing, but his sexual organs felt so good 
in her hands that she didn't want to. He wasn't 
dangerous, like other men would be in this situation.

"These are very precious to a woman." she said, 
stroking him slowly, feeling the bumps and ridges and 
veins on his staff under her soapy hands. "They are 
used for her pleasure, and to give her children." She 
felt the organ jerk in her hand and looked up to see 
Bobby's mouth open, his eyes wide.

"Have you ever seen a woman naked?" she asked, again 
for more than one reason.

Bobby shook his head violently this time. He knew a boy 
who had peeked into a privy while a woman had been in 
there and had gotten caught. They had almost killed him 
with the "punishment" meted out for that incident.

Meg giggled. He had looked horrified at the thought. 
"It's not THAT bad" she said. "Women can be beautiful 
without clothing too, you know."

Bobby went from the fear of being caught doing 
something wrong, to the fear that he had hurt this 
woman's feelings. He wanted to tell her that he thought 
SHE was beautiful, but his charade had gone on for so 
long now that he knew, without a doubt that he'd be 
punished severely if they found out. A beating he could 
take... but the thought of being thrown out of this 
wonderful place struck his heart like a dagger.

Meg sucked in a breath as Bobby's hand reached out and 
he caressed her cheek with two fingers. His intent was 
clear. It was a gentle sweet touch, that communicated 
what he was thinking.

"You think I'm beautiful?" she asked, her voice 
quivering.

He nodded seriously and she felt her nipples reach full 
erection as butterflies danced in her belly.

"Thank you." she said softly. "I wasn't talking about 
me, though. I'm sure I'm quite ugly without my clothes 
on."

Bobby didn't know whether this would get him in trouble 
or not, but this woman was so nice to him that he took 
the chance. He shook his head and touched her cheek 
again.

Meg felt a shiver pass through her at his second touch. 
She was having the most inappropriate thoughts, and she 
shook her head to clear them out. In the meantime, her 
hand had unconsciously begun moving along Bobby's penis 
faster. The result was something neither of them either 
planned, or expected.

Bobby felt something painfully sweet rushing on him, 
centered right where her hands were holding him. He had 
never had an orgasm... had never been stimulated like 
this, at least not this long. Therefore he didn't know 
what was going to happen, and didn't know what to do 
about the feelings in his groin. All he knew was that 
he wanted her to keep doing what she was doing.

Meg's only warning was the feeling of his balls jumping 
in her left hand. The tip of his penis was only five or 
six inches away from her face, when the little slit 
suddenly got wider and milky white fluid shot out of 
it. That fluid splatted directly on Meg's nose, some 
going into her eyes, and some going into her open mouth 
as her hand jerked downward. She was so startled that 
she froze, and received another splashing shot in 
exactly the same place.

Their reactions were amazingly different. 

The feeling for Bobby was so powerful and startling and 
pleasant, that he wished it would go on forever. At the 
same time, he somehow knew that he had just done 
something bad... horrible in fact... and that the 
punishment would be more severe than anything he had 
experienced before. His reaction was to huddle and 
cover his head to protect it. He fell back down into 
the now cooling water and assumed a fetal position, 
waiting for the strap or club that he knew she'd fetch 
and beat him with.

For Meg, her initial astonishment gave way to fear as 
well... the fear that someone would find out what she'd 
just done. That gave way to the sensations of his semen 
- she knew it was his semen - on her face and in her 
mouth. Her more powerful instinct was to clear her eyes 
so she could see, and that took precedence over her 
instinct to spit out the fluid in her mouth. 

She brought her hands up to her eyes, sweeping the 
thick fluid away from them and feeling the heat of that 
fluid, something that surprised her for some reason. 
She could see better, but not as well as she wanted to. 
She dipped her hands into the bath water and rubbed her 
wet hands over her eyes again, clearing them more 
completely. When she opened them again, she saw Bobby 
cowering in the water, moaning in fear, his back, with 
its scars turned to her.

She had been unprepared for his penis to ejaculate. She 
had been unprepared for his semen to hit her face. She 
had been unprepared for it to get in her mouth too. All 
of those things were still in the process of being 
evaluated by her unconscious mind. But seeing him 
cowering like that hit a chord in her that she was well 
prepared to deal with.

"Bobby" she cooed. "No... baby... you didn't do 
anything wrong... honey don't be afraid... I'm not 
going to hurt you. Nobody's going to hurt you." She 
kept repeating those things in her soothing mellow 
voice, reaching for his arm. He flinched at her first 
contact, and it broke her heart.

"Come on baby," she pleaded. "Don't be afraid."

Bobby felt her hands on him and slowly realized that, 
once again, he had assumed something wrongly... that 
this place was so different that he didn't know how to 
act, or what to expect. He moved his hands from his 
face and saw care and concern in Meg's eyes. He let 
himself be pulled up, out of the water, and then out of 
the tub.

Meg hugged him, getting her dress wet. "Ohhh poor baby, 
you didn't do anything wrong." she repeated. She felt 
the water soak through her dress and pushed him away, 
turning to get a towel. He stood, his arms at his 
sides, as she dried him off, trying to reassure him 
that he wasn't in trouble.

"What happened was a normal thing." she told him, 
sliding the rough towel over his chest and arms. "It 
was MY fault, Bobby. All you did was what your body 
needed to do."

She knelt and dried his legs and last she ran the towel 
quickly over his now-limp penis. Something in her 
wanted to avoid making that thing hard again. She 
wasn't sure she'd be able to avoid doing again what 
she'd just done to him.

She stood up and saw amazement in his eyes. The fear 
was gone and she wanted to do something to make it stay 
away forever. Without thinking, she kissed him.

Bobby had seen people kissing, and had been kissed on 
the cheek a few times. He'd never been kissed like 
this, though. This kiss was warm, and her lips were 
soft. There was a strange taste on her lips and, when 
she pulled hers off of his, he licked his, 
concentrating on that taste.

Meg saw him... tasting... and suddenly concentrated on 
the taste in her own mouth... his taste... that she had 
just given back to him. She was astounded that, rather 
than being disgusted by his semen in her mouth, she was 
entranced by his flavor. She flushed red, thinking that 
she must be perverted to like having his sexual essence 
in her mouth, but she also knew that nothing in her 
life had thrilled her as much as what had just 
happened. If this was being perverted, she was going to 
re-think some things. It hadn't FELT perverted. All 
either of them had done was act as nature had intended 
them to act.

Still, she needed to know how he felt about things. 
"Are you mad at me Bobby?" she asked, holding his face 
in her hands.

He shook his head firmly back and forth.

She kissed him again, and this time, when she hugged 
him, she didn't pull away. No one had taught Meg about 
the French way of kissing. What she thought about was 
that she had put some of his seed on his lips the last 
time she kissed him, and her tongue flicked out to take 
that back. When his tongue flicked against hers in 
response, she felt a shock that made her want to be 
naked with this man/boy. That was what caused her to 
stop. She couldn't assimilate that desire... the desire 
to actually mate with this boy... into her thought 
process.

She was panting when she pushed him away.

"OK then." she breathed. "No harm done?"

Bobby nodded and smiled. If this was what bath time was 
all about he hoped they would decide he needed a lot 
more baths.

Meg, for reasons not clear to her, decided to lead 
Bobby out into the living room for him to get dressed. 
It could be presumed, by a psychiatrist, perhaps, that 
she secretly wanted to display his limp penis, to 
assure the other women that this was just a boy, an not 
a sexual being, as she had just discovered. That 
psychiatrist would nod his head sagely and suggest she 
wanted to retain the secret for herself, and that by 
showing him flaccid, she impressed on the others that 
he had nothing to offer those other women in the adult 
world.

Interestingly, (and perhaps no surprise to the reader) 
the psychiatrist would have been wrong. Mavis' gasp as 
the naked young man was revealed to her suggested she 
was quite aware of his manhood, shriveled though it 
might be. Her gasp caused the other women to look to 
see what had caught her attention, and there were more 
gasps.

For Mavis, Prudence and Donna, the gasps went along 
with feelings none of them had felt in their loins for 
a while. Mavis remembered what it felt like for one of 
those things to be inside her, long as it had been 
since that had happened.

Prudence, being younger, and less time having passed 
since she felt the joys of copulation, gazed at what 
her errant husband had presented her with on numerous 
occasions, demanding that she make it stiff so she 
could perform her wifely duties.

Donna, whose husband had looked like this for the last 
years of his life, unable to get a full erection as he 
aged, was aware of the youth and strength lying hidden 
in that limp thing that swung between Bobby's legs, 
knowing that, if full and hard, it would be marvelous 
indeed to behold.

The last gasp came, of course, from Sally, who had 
never seen one that big, limp or not. It was she who 
followed her gasp with words.

"Meg, what in the world are you doing?" she asked.

Meg, suddenly realizing what she had unconsciously 
done, blushed. "Oh my stars. I just forgot how big he 
is."

Prudence was next. "How on earth could you forget 
something like that?"

Mavis was next. "Meg! You're positively soaked!"

Meg looked down at her wet dress and thought furiously.

"He's somewhat... enthusiastic in the water." she said 
cautiously. "I don't think he's had many baths in his 
life. He... um... he splashes around."

Unknowingly, Meg had hit on exactly the right 
description. All of the women had bathed a young person 
who hit the water with his or her hands happily, 
splashing everyone within reach. All of the women 
succumbed to that image in their minds, of a young 
child playing in the water.

"Oh the poor sweet baby." cooed Mavis, going to the 
pile of clothing and digging through it. Of course 
Bobby's clothing wasn't in the pile. His clothes were 
folded after being washed, and placed in the bureau in 
his room.

"I guess I just forgot about his clothes," said Meg 
lamely.

Prudence stood up. "Well, he's no baby, I'll tell you 
THAT!" She giggled. Then she blushed as the other women 
stared at her. "Well he's not!" she insisted. "Not that 
I think we should neglect him." she added. "I 
understand that we need to help him. It might even be 
fun!" she said, recovering.

Mavis gasped again and fanned her face with her hand. 
"Prudence you are SUCH a hussy!" she said, her voice 
strangled. "Now get that boy some clothes before he 
upsets the whole house!"

"Too late for that." muttered Donna under her breath. 
She was going to have a hard time getting to sleep when 
she got home. The rememberance of what one of those 
things could do was heavy on her mind. Flitting 
fantasies of having more babies troubled her sleep 
occasionally. It might tonight too. While she couldn't 
get pregnant, like she wanted to, but she could at 
least experience an orgasm once in a while, with her 
fingers. 

Sally just stared at Bobby's penis, drinking in the 
sight of something so forbidden. At least it seemed 
forbidden to her. While other women, not counting Meg, 
of course, got to see them all the time, she hadn't 
expected to see one at all, and she wasn't about to 
miss the chance to examine it for as long as possible.

"I'll take him." she blurted suddenly. "To get him 
dressed." she added, blushing.

Meg, who admitted to herself that she would have 
enjoyed dressing the boy - even though he didn't need 
help - also knew that, the way she was feeling right 
now, that would be dangerous. And, she needed to change 
her dress. She waved her hand at Sally.

Sally took Bobby's hand and led him to his room. Bobby 
watched as she went to the bureau and went through it, 
looking for the butcher's old nightshirt, that had been 
donated to Bobby because it had a hole in it. That hole 
had been patched, and when the garment was on him, 
Bobby thought he looked like he was wearing a dress. 
But it was warm, and no one laughed at him, so he 
didn't mind.

Sally turned, with the nightshirt in her hands.

"Here Bobby." she said softly. "Do you need help?"

Bobby had come to the conclusion that, when these women 
helped him, nice things happened, so he nodded and held 
up his arms, like the little children did when they 
were being dressed. He was taller than Sally, though, 
and, stretch as she might, she couldn't reach the tips 
of his hands to get the garment over them. It did cause 
her to press her meager bosom against his chest, 
though, which felt nice to both of them. Bobby's 
emotions, already at a heightened state, remembered the 
hug Meg had given him. He lowered his arms and hugged 
Sally.

She went rigid in his arms, at first, as scenes of rape 
and ravishment shot through her brain. But it was just 
a hug, which became apparent quickly as he did nothing 
other than squeeze her in his arms. Her hands came 
tentatively to his back and she felt the welts and 
scars there, which shocked her.

Sally pushed him away and spun him, to stare at what 
none of the women had seen, because they were all 
staring at something else.

"Ohhhh you poor thing." she moaned, tracing her 
fingertips lightly over the stripes. "You've been 
abused," she said.

Sally might have been mousy, and not popular with the 
men, even before the war, so she had no experience with 
men as... men. But her maternal instincts were well 
developed by having worked with the children. Her 
heart, like Meg's before her, went out to the young man 
as she saw the evidence of repeated beatings on his 
back, buttocks and thighs. She spun him around again, 
to face her and, like Meg had, she took his face in her 
hands.

"No one will do that to you here, Bobby. Do you 
understand me? No one will hurt you here." she said 
softly. Her fingers slid down his throat to his chest, 
where they lingered. She wanted to hug him back, but 
was suddenly uncomfortable with the feeling in her 
stomach. She was disgusted by what had happened to this 
boy, but something else made her stomach feel fluttery 
at the same time.

"Now, let me get this on you." she said, working the 
arms of the nightshirt over his hands and then up and 
over his head and shoulders. He dropped his arms and 
the cloth slid down his body.

But Sally's fingers on his back, and face and chest, 
along with her soothing voice, had reawakened in Bobby 
the pleasurable thoughts of a woman's smooth hands on 
his body, and his penis, being young and virile, had 
once again stiffened. It had, in fact, stiffened so 
much that it angled upward, and the falling cloth 
caught on it, suspending that part of the nightshirt, 
while the rest fell past his hips.

Sally looked down and felt faint when she saw what had 
happened. She staggered backwards, staring at the first 
erection on a male older than ten that she had ever 
seen. The fluttery feelings in her stomach suddenly 
turned into a ball of warmth... lower in her body... 
just above the juncture of her legs.

"Oh my." she gasped.

Bobby stood there, afraid to move. He saw fear in 
Sally's eyes, and he didn't want her to be afraid. She 
was staring at his penis, like Meg had, but her 
reaction was different than Meg's. He didn't want her 
to be afraid of him... didn't want her to withdraw from 
him. Tentatively he reached and pulled on the cloth, so 
it fell, covering him. It still tented out, where his 
penis pushed against it, but he couldn't do anything 
about that.

His actions reassured Sally in ways that no speech ever 
could have and she relaxed.

"I'm being silly." she said, mostly to herself. She 
looked from the lump in his nightgown back up to his 
face. He smiled tentatively and she smiled back, just 
as tentatively, unused to using those muscles in her 
face.

"That was a surprise." she said, not knowing what else 
to say. "Are you all right?"

Bobby nodded.

"Well we can't take you out there looking like that. 
Mavis would have a stroke. Perhaps you should just go 
to bed now." she suggested.

Bobby turned and climbed into his bed. He felt soothed 
by what had happened in the bathroom, but felt his 
penis wanting to do that again. He hoped Sally would 
stroke him, like Meg had, but she didn't. She did come 
and kiss him on the forehead.

"Good night sweet prince." she whispered, letting the 
restraints on her imagination loosen. Her imagination 
had to make up for so many things she didn't have in 
her life. It was a good imagination because she used it 
a lot. She blushed as she left the room and stopped in 
the hallway to get control of herself. 

Then she went back downstairs like nothing had 
happened.




CHAPTER FOUR


Sally wasn't the only woman in the house who acted like 
nothing had happened.

Something HAD happened, though. 

It had happened to all five women, though none of them 
compared notes. All five women had seen Bobby's penis 
and, while only two of them had seen it hard, all of 
them knew it could get that way. That, encouraged by 
all of them far underestimating his intelligence, led 
all of them to think about that penis a little 
differently than they would had they seen, say Frank, 
the storekeeper in town, without his pants.

Of them all, two reacted more strongly than the others. 
Donna had wanted more children after Wally was born, 
but they waited until he was four or five to try again, 
and by then it was too late. By the time he tried 
making another baby, his fading ability had left him 
impotent for the most part. 

Donna had been able, for a year or two, to use her 
mouth on him and get him hard enough to penetrate her, 
but he never stayed hard enough to bring her to orgasm. 
So she was not only pining for more children, she was 
unsatisfied, and had to learn to use her fingers. That 
night, as she stroked her clit, lying in bed, she 
thought back on her life, and the life of the only man 
who'd claimed her sexually.

Walter, being from the old school, thought that sex was 
something you did to make babies, and it wasn't for 
fun, even though, of course, it was fun. He'd worked 
the farm he inherited from his father at the tender age 
of twenty, and he had to work hard to make it go... 
much too hard to waste time on girls. The life of a 
bachelor farmer came easily to him, because he had no 
time to dwell on it. 

It had been on a winter's night a lot like this one, 
when it was too cold to do anything outside, and all 
the inside work had been done, and all his books had 
been read for the tenth or eleventh time, that his 
thoughts had drifted to what it might be like to have a 
warm woman in bed with him. With a start of horror, as 
if awakening from a dream, he realized he was fifty 
years old and had nothing to show for his life. The 
farm supported him, but he had no one to pass it on to.

Walter Pratt had gone wife hunting the very next day, 
January the first, nineteen twenty-eight. It was almost 
ridiculously easy. He went to a church social, New 
Year's Day being on a Sunday that year, and talked to 
the only woman who wasn't accompanied by a man, and who 
was over the age of sixteen. Walter knew he had no 
business marrying a girl, even though that was 
perfectly honorable in those days. He wanted a woman 
who knew how to love a man, and who wouldn't kill him 
while he was between her legs.

Donna, at the time, was considered a spinster. She was 
twenty-three, and every time her parents tried to get 
her married off she did whatever it took to spoil the 
plan. The problem was that Donna had gone to finishing 
school, where she met interesting men, but had no urge 
to marry any of them. When she went back home she was 
one of the best educated women in town, but it didn't 
do her a bit of good. 

The only jobs available for women were cleaning, and 
laundry, or being the servants of the rich folk, none 
of which appealed to her. She was stubborn, and it cost 
her. Eventually she got work as a nanny, which was 
fine, as far as that went, until the man of the house 
wanted to make more babies for her to care for... and 
not necessarily with his wife. She had stalked out of 
the house after slapping the man, abandoning her job in 
the process.

That had been on December the thirty-first, the night 
before she met Walter Pratt.

She talked to Walter because she was bored, but soon 
found him to be a fascinating man. He was well read and 
intelligent, if a little shy, but she found his shyness 
engaging too. They had talked for two hours, sharing 
bits and pieces of their lives and dreams and 
disappointments and, at his leave-taking, when he 
abruptly suggested that he needed a wife, and she 
needed a husband, and a place to lay her weary head, 
she blinked twice at his effrontery and heard herself 
say that she would consider his proposal most closely.

When she thought about it, it made more sense to her 
than she wished it did. It provided for her. He was a 
decent man. He'd die first, of course, but that left 
the farm in her name. And if they could have children, 
like both of them wanted to, she and her children could 
work the land. She didn't think she'd be able to love 
him, but then one didn't always marry for love. The 
only reason she could think of not to do it was because 
there would then be no hope for excitement in her life.

She had accepted his proposal and they were married by 
Valentines Day.

To her surprise she HAD learned to love him. He was a 
good man, and sweet and sensitive. She worked hard - 
what she was able to do - but it was good work and it 
kept her from getting fat on her own cooking. His was 
horrible. And she had loved being pregnant. Knowing 
that life stirred in her womb had made her feel 
complete. 

Raising Tommy had made her happy, even when Walter 
began to be unable to please her in bed. Now Tommy was 
off in the war, and might be killed, and she had felt 
empty ever since he left. She knew she shouldn't feel 
that way. She had done good things in her life, and it 
hadn't been for nothing. Still, she yearned in her 
heart of hearts for more babies to raise and love... to 
keep her company in her old age.

When Mavis had changed from a boarding house to an 
orphanage, it was as though she had been given a chance 
to do what she loved most... care for children. 

Now, as she rubbed her tortured clit, reaching for an 
orgasm, she felt pangs of guilt. She wasn't thinking of 
her dead husband's penis. What she envisioned in her 
mind could only be that of a much younger, more virile 
man. 

A man like Bobby.

***

Prudence had been exposed to a lot of sex by her 
husband before he left for the war, but his skill had 
been non existent. He climbed on her, shot his wad, and 
climbed off, not caring whether she had reached her 
peak or not. She, too, had wanted a child. She, too, 
had had to learn to satisfy herself with her fingers.

Prudence lay in her own bed, in her own house, her 
fingers stuck firmly in her empty pussy as she writhed 
under the covers. Her orgasm came quickly. She was a 
hot blooded woman and, if she had the right fantasy in 
her mind she could cum quickly and often, for as long 
as she chose to keep making herself do it.

That was a hollow victory, though, because there was 
nothing like the real thing, as far as Prudence was 
concerned. She was miserable, even though she had cum 
twice, thinking about Bobby. Her husband had left her, 
or was going to leave her... she didn't actually know 
what her status was. She assumed that there would have 
to be some papers to sign or something legal that she'd 
either have to do, or that would be delivered to her 
after it had been done, or something. She did know that 
Private Watson was still paying the rent, or having it 
paid, because the landlord hadn't kicked her out yet. 

Mavis had offered to let her live in the Milleson 
House, but she resisted that. It wasn't because of the 
women - she liked them all - and it wasn't because of 
the children - she loved them. Rather it was because if 
she moved in with them she'd have to admit that it was 
over... that another woman had taken her man... that 
she wasn't even desirable enough to come home to.

Now she thought about her marriage, and the possibility 
that she'd have to move, and the possibility that she'd 
never have children. Men didn't want to marry a 
divorced woman. There were a lot of things men DID want 
to do with a divorced woman... but marriage wasn't one 
of them. She had gotten married to be able to have 
children. Working with the poor things at Mavis' house 
was fine - she loved that - but she wanted her own 
children so much it hurt. 

She had assumed, when she came to work for Mavis, that 
all the children were orphaned by disease, or accident, 
or perhaps, in the odd circumstance, crime. She was 
horrified to find out that a lot of women didn't want 
their children in the first place, and simply abandoned 
them to die. She didn't understand any woman who would 
give up a precious baby, much less let it die for lack 
of caring. She was quite sure she could commit murder 
on such a woman. All the children that they cared for 
at Milleson House deserved loving parents. Even poor 
Bobby.

Thinking of Bobby made her remember why she'd needed to 
stroke herself when she got home. He was really quite a 
handsome boy, now that he had a little meat on his 
bones. His smile was gorgeous, rare as it was, and his 
tenderness with June Bug and Emily had brought tears to 
her eyes. She remembered that dangling penis he was so 
unconcerned about as he stood, naked, in front of five 
grown women.

She began rubbing again. This time she was going to cum 
until she was too tired to stay awake.

***

Back in Milleson House Mavis lay with her eyes tightly 
closed, the vision of Bobby's penis clear in her mind's 
eye. She'd almost forgotten what an adult phallus 
looked like. Her hand stole to the joining of her legs. 
It had done that three times before, and she'd always 
jerked it back, ashamed that she wanted to pervert 
herself. At last, though, she couldn't stand it any 
more. With a groan of mingled frustration, satisfaction 
and shame, she pulled her night dress up and splayed 
her legs open. She was already slippery and wet.

***

The other two women in Milleson house lay in their beds 
too, their eyes wide open and staring at the unseen 
ceiling. Meg pinched her nipples, but couldn't bring 
herself to masturbate. She knew some women did that, 
but she couldn't picture herself as one of them. She 
had pride. She was stronger than those other women.

In reality, though she didn't know it, she was only 
more frustrated than those other women. That 
frustration, and the image of Bobby's erect penis, 
shooting long streams of semen... kept her awake most 
of the night, tossing and turning.

As for Sally, it was all so new to her that she just 
lay there thinking about what she had seen, and how 
things had felt, and all the new things she'd 
experienced. She was excited in the same way a 
scientist is excited when he's on the verge of a 
discovery. She didn't know what to expect, or what 
would happen, but she knew it would be interesting. 
Sally's dull, gray life had been boring for as long as 
she could remember. Interesting was so much more... 
interesting.

***

Bobby had lain in his warm bed, in this amazing house, 
with its fantastic practices, and had just relaxed. 
Relaxing was not something Bobby had much experience 
at, and it felt almost decadent. He felt twinges of 
conscience at fooling the women, all of whom were so 
nice that he was sure now that some kind of mistake had 
been made. 

No one he knew would have intentionally sent him to 
this wonderful place. It was too late to just yell 
"Surprise!" and laugh at the big joke. He knew, beyond 
any doubt, that their feelings would be hurt. They'd 
find out he wasn't simple-minded... that he could read 
just as well as Meg and Donna did... that he was 
perfectly capable of taking his own bath.

He thought about the baths. He hadn't counted on that 
happening, but he was glad it had. The feel of Meg's 
hands on his skin - everywhere, not just on his cock - 
was almost indescribably wonderful. He'd cut out his 
own tongue if it ensured that Meg would bathe him for 
the next year or two.

Then he thought about the feeling in is cock when it 
had squirted. He'd thought something was wrong with him 
at first. The pain had come on him like a rushing 
freight train and had stabbed directly through his 
penis and into his aching balls. Her hand moving had 
caused that pain. He knew that now. And then the pain 
in his balls had reversed and come back out his dick as 
the most intense pleasure he had ever felt. 

Ecstasy is something a lot of people feel rarely. It 
has a lot of definitions, but ecstacy, in this case, 
was the sudden experience of unanticipated joy. That's 
rare, in the sense that we have expectations of joy 
usually. We plan for it, and reach for it, and when it 
arrives it is expected. That's fine, but when it's UN-
expected, the feeling can be overpowering. Not only 
Bobby, but Meg too had experienced ecstasy that night.

Somehow, he knew that if he rubbed his own cock, he 
could make that feeling come back.

But he didn't.

That was saved for Meg to do. If she refused to do it 
again, then he'd do it for himself. But only if she 
refused.

His relaxation ended abruptly and violently as a 
piercing scream cut the air in the dark, quiet house. 
Patrick screamed again, a wailing, horrified, blood 
curdling scream and Bobby bolted up out of bed. He 
dashed out into the hall and down to the second floor, 
where he threw the door open, expecting to find someone 
beating the daylights out of poor Patrick. 

Bobby's eyes had become accustomed to the dark. What he 
found was Patrick, eyes wide open, tears running down 
his face, leaning against the iron bedstead with the 
covers pulled up to his chin. His roommate, Terrence 
sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes. Patrick was babbling 
and, when he saw Bobby, his hand jerked forward and he 
pointed to the closet door in the corner of the room. 

In the darkness Bobby saw something move on the face of 
the door. He realized instantly that what he was seeing 
was moonlight, bouncing off the snow, and being broken 
up by tree branches moving in the wind outside. He 
moved to the window and closed the curtains, just as 
Sally and Meg came running into the room, panting from 
their dash up the stairs. Meg had a kerosene lamp in 
her hand.

"What's WRONG?" she shouted, elevating tensions in the 
room just by her own tense reaction.

"The Umpelty Oog!" squealed Patrick. "The Umpelty Oog!" 
he screamed.

Meg stared and looked upward, slumping. Sally sighed at 
the same time. Mavis came puffing up the hallway, 
asking what was wrong.

Meg moaned. "Patrick says he saw the Umpelty Oog." She 
turned, angry now that she'd been pulled out of bed for 
this. "Patrick, how many times have I TOLD you there IS 
NO SUCH THING as the Umpelty Oog!"

Patrick cried now. "But I SAW him" he pleaded. "I saw 
him!"

Jenny, Emily and June Bug appeared in the open door, 
huddling together. Their room was right next door to 
this one. They looked terrified too.

Bobby recognized the women doing what all adults did... 
ignore children's fears and concerns. He'd always 
thought adults just didn't care, but he couldn't think 
that about these women. They had shown him too many 
times that they were different. He'd seen what had 
convinced Patrick that something was moving in the 
corner, so he understood that Patrick could believe in 
the imaginary beast. And he knew that if they all just 
left, Patrick would still believe that he was in 
danger.

Bobby slapped the closet door with the flat of his 
hand. The boom startled even him.

"What?!" cried Mavis and Sally. 

Bobby put one finger up to his lips, in the universal 
signal to be quiet. Then he tiptoed over to Meg and 
took her hand, pulling her toward the closet. She 
resisted at first, but then curiosity overcame her 
unhappiness at being jerked from her warm bed - even 
though she couldn't sleep - for this nonsense.

When he got her to the closet door, Bobby began a 
series of pantomimes that included taking a deep breath 
and then opening his mouth widely. He took her hand and 
traced the letters "S-C-R-E-A-M" into them and then 
pointed at her.

"You want me to yell?" she asked.

Bobby nodded and then went through the whole plan one 
last time. He would jerk the door open and she would 
scream.

Her eyes got wide.

She whispered "You want me to scare the Umpelty Oog 
away?"

Bobby nodded again.

Meg smiled widely. She stood up and turned around. 
Everyone in the room was watching them like they were 
monkeys in the zoo.

Bobby and I are going to scare the Umpelty Oog away. 
Cover your ears please." she said smoothly.

Of course nobody covered their ears. But they should 
have. When Bobby jerked the door open Meg let out all 
her pent up passion and frustration in a blood curdling 
scream that, had it been summer, with the windows open, 
would have brought men running from four houses over. 
Bobby slapped the closet door three or four times and 
then slammed it closed. Then they turned to see what 
their audience thought.

Mavis had one hand over her heart, and the other over 
her mouth. Sally had both hands over her mouth. Patrick 
and Terrence both sat, their eyes round as saucers, 
their mouths wide open, and their hands gripping their 
covers.

Mavis snorted and then bit her tongue to keep from 
laughing. She went to the bed and urged Patrick to lie 
back down. Then she tucked him in securely. 

"Well, if I were the Umpelty Oog I surely wouldn't want 
to stick around here... not with Meg screaming at me 
like that. And I bet he's afraid of Bobby too. He's 
used to little boys and Bobby just plain scared him 
away, don't you think so?"

Patrick's saucer eyes blinked and he nodded hopefully.

"Of course he did. Now you just go to sleep. I don't 
think the Umpelty Oog will be back to bother you again 
tonight."

Everyone filed out. In the hallway, Meg had an excuse 
to hug Bobby again, this time with only a thin night 
dress... well, two of them, his and hers... but both 
thin... between them. She kissed his cheek warmly as 
her unfettered breasts pressed against his chest. 
"Thank you Bobby," she said. "That was just brilliant."

Bobby held on, feeling the heat of her breasts coming 
through the cloth between them. She let go of him 
before his prick could become fully erect and push into 
her.

Then everybody went back to bed.

For Bobby and Meg, things were very much like they had 
been before the excitement.

***

The next day Bobby made some preparations for future 
events. With all the snow on the ground, it was 
difficult, but he finally found a suitable stick, of 
suitable thickness, that made a satisfying and loud 
snapping sound as he broke it across his knee. Based on 
what he'd heard, he smuggled two lengths of the stick 
into the house, hiding one in Patrick and Terrence's 
closet and the other in the room that held Jenny, Emily 
and June Bug.

Then he went about his normal chores, filling coal 
buckets, clearing the walk of blown snow and playing 
with the children. Donna called to him to come with her 
for the marketing and he put on his coat, boots and the 
ridiculous but warm hat he now owned. He followed Donna 
to the Dry Goods store and she loaded him up.

"Bobby, you wait outside," she said. "I want to talk to 
Mister Robinson privately."

It was while Bobby was outside that he overheard two 
women talking about how school would be starting up 
again the next day. His spirits sank.

Donna came out and hustled back home, clutching her 
purse, which consisted of an ornate cloth bag with a 
drawstring that kept it closed, and which she could 
loop around her wrist. Bobby trudged along behind her 
and, when they got back home, into the dining room, 
dumped all the parcels he had carried onto the table. 
He automatically started putting things away, while 
Donna called all the women together and they huddled. 
He heard exclamations and clapping and then Mavis 
called to him.

"Bobby, would you come in here please?"

He went and found all five women standing in a semi-
circle, smiling at him. Mavis had something in her 
hand.

"Bobby, what you did last night was a fine thing... a 
caring thing... and we all felt like you should be 
rewarded. This is for you."

She held out her hand and opened it. In it was a brand 
new pocket knife. Bobby couldn't believe his eyes. It 
was beautiful, with a dark wooden handle. He'd never 
seen anything so beautiful.

"Go on... take it." urged Mavis, moving her hand closer 
to him. "Now you can finish your carving."

Bobby picked up the knife reverently. In etched letters 
on a brass plate were the words "Old Timer". It had two 
blades. One blade was short, with a blunt tip, while 
the other was longer and very sharp at the tip. He 
dragged the edge of the blade across one fingertip 
crosswise, and felt the keen edge dig into his skin. It 
was fabulously sharp. Tears welled up in his eyes. No 
one had ever given him a present before this. He was 
suddenly ashamed of his tears, and wiped at his eyes 
with the hand that wasn't holding the knife.

Quite suddenly he was surrounded by women, who were 
also crying and smiling at the same time. That morphed 
into a big hug, with all of them trying to hug him and 
each other at the same time. He put his arms around as 
many of them as he could.

"What are you doing?" piped a young voice.

The women either turned, or looked over their shoulders 
to see Terrence standing alone, looking curiously at 
the group of crying people.

It just so happened that Meg was on Bobby's right in 
the group, where his arms had gone around them. And, it 
so happened that, when she heard Terrence, she turned 
to face him. It was coincidence that she both turned 
outward from the group, rather than inward. And it was 
a further coincidence that Bobby's right hand, the one 
that wasn't holding the knife, was at the same level as 
Meg's breasts. 

The result of so many coincidences was that Bobby's 
hand ended up filled with soft breasts. His hand slid 
across one mound and then landed on the other before 
the woman realized what was happening. She 
inadvertently froze at just the time that her right 
breast filled his hand. That hand just naturally flexed 
to cup what was in it.

Meg's face flamed and she made herself move, astonished 
to find that she didn't want to. That hand cupping her 
breast felt nice in a way that she was completely 
unprepared for. 

Mavis had turned in the same direction and, though she 
hadn't seen what happened, she saw Meg's pink flush.

"Whatever is wrong with you?" she asked, reaching up to 
cup Meg's chin in her hands and looking at both sides 
of her face. Bobby's hand had dropped to his side by 
now.

"Is it hot in here?" Meg asked nervously.

The group broke up to tend to children in various 
places around the house, leaving Bobby to examine his 
new knife. He went immediately to his gunny sack, which 
he still kept under the bed in his room, and removed 
the lump of wood that was only partly finished. Then he 
took it to a chair beside the coal stove, sat, and 
began working on it. His new knife was much sharper 
than the one that had been taken from him, and the 
carving proceeded quickly. 

No one bothered him, and by suppertime the dog was 
almost complete. It sat, on its haunches, head tilted, 
one ear up, tongue lolling. It was beautiful. All the 
women examined it closely, praising Bobby's uncanny 
skill at giving life to the dead wood.

Because school was to start up again the next day, an 
extra bath night was thrown into the schedule.

This particular night, both June Bug and Emily were in 
the group that remained to listen to the story while 
the others were taken for baths. There was immediately 
competition between the two as both tried to climb up 
on his lap at the same time. He solved that problem by 
putting one on each thigh and wrapping his arms around 
them. His eyes met Meg's and, again, he saw that glint 
in her eye that went with a look on her face that he 
usually didn't see.

They got through another fifteen pages of Alice's 
adventures. When June Bug and Emily were taken off to 
bathe, and Bobby's lap was unencumbered, he got down on 
the floor and helped dry and clothe the naked children 
from the first shift. It was eerily silent, as it 
always was when Meg was reading. The children stood, 
rapt, their attention concentrated on Meg's voice as 
their arms were lifted and night clothes were placed on 
their unresisting bodies.

That silence vanished, of course, when Meg closed the 
book. There were cries of "More... read some more" and 
"Not yet"

June bug and Emily, who were roommates, came to Bobby 
and each took a hand, dragging him to their room on the 
second floor.

"We want you to tuck us in." piped Emily. Jenny stood 
nearby nodding.

Prudence looked at Donna. They usually took the second 
floor girls at bedtime. Donna shrugged her shoulders 
and grinned. "Looks like somebody has some new 
girlfriends." she said softly.

Meg called out. "Hurry back Bobby, you have to take a 
bath too."

"You need any help with him tonight?" asked Prudence, 
giggling.

Mavis snorted. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Pru!"

Prudence laughed. "Why Mavis, whatever do you mean? 
Surely you don't think that just because the man I used 
to have has been gone for two years, and probably isn't 
coming back, that I'm on the prowl for a replacement."

Mavis smiled. "You can't fool me Pru. I know exactly 
what you were thinking."

"Mavis!" laughed Prudence. "I'm shocked!" She got a sly 
look on her face. "And, based on what you just said, 
YOU are thinking exactly the same thing!"

Meg, who had indeed been re-evaluating her stand on a 
few things, didn't like the way the conversation was 
going, put a frown on her face. "I certainly do NOT 
need any help with the poor boy. Especially from two 
hussies who can't control their thoughts!"

Donna laughed out loud. "Make that THREE hussies, Meg. 
Don't forget poor little me."

Meg felt guilty, because if she did what she wanted to 
do tonight, she'd be a much worse hussy than any of 
them. But she relaxed as they went on with their normal 
routine.

Bobby bounced back down the stairs and stood beside 
Meg, docile while she finished diapering the baby and 
then handed him to Sally, who had the toddler on her 
other hip. Mavis came and took the baby so that Sally 
could hold four year old Johnny's hand as they went up 
to the room those three were in.

Meg turned to Bobby. "Are you ready?" she asked. 

He nodded, with just the hint of a smile on his face. 
He could feel his penis getting stiff already.

This time Bobby undressed himself, while Meg set about 
filling the tub. She was already nervous when she 
turned around to look at him. Her eyes widened as she 
saw him standing placidly, his erect phallus pointing 
at her. Her eyes darted to the door, and the skeleton 
key that hung on a nail high up on the door jamb. She 
looked back at Bobby's rampant prick and the tingle 
that went through her made her move. She went to the 
door, got the key and carefully inserted it in the 
lock, turning it until it clicked. Then she replaced 
the key on the nail and turned around. Her hands 
unconsciously went to cover her abdomen.

"Bobby?" she said.

He looked at her.

"I thought that... um what with my dress getting all 
wet last time that... if I um... took it off, it 
wouldn't get wet and I wouldn't have to go change when 
we're done." she finished in a rush. 

He stared at her. Had she been closer to him she might 
have seen his pupils dilate. She also didn't notice his 
prick angle up slightly more than level.

"Is that all right?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Bobby didn't know what to do. Just the thought of her 
without her dress on made his balls and penis feel 
almost like it had when it squirted. He had the urge to 
grab his cock and squeeze it, but controlled himself. 
He didn't think that would be the right thing to do 
right now. For lack of anything else to do he nodded.

Meg fiddled nervously with the buttons on the front of 
her dress. "Have you ever seen a woman... naked?" she 
asked.

Bobby had no trouble shaking his head. It just came 
naturally. His cock moved upward even more, beginning 
to point at her face now.

"This is only so I don't ruin my dress." she said, 
trying to convince herself.

When Bobby just kept standing there Meg took a breath 
and began unbuttoning the bodice of her dress. She 
wasn't wearing a bra tonight. The stiff fabric parted 
to expose creamy white skin. She couldn't tear her eyes 
away from his as she pushed one shoulder, and then the 
other off, and the dress slid down, catching on the 
swell of her hips. She had to fight her arms to keep 
them from covering her breasts. Bobby's mouth dropped 
open, his eyes riveted to her naked chest. 

Taking another breath Meg pushed the dress down and it 
fell in a pool around her ankles. She suddenly knew 
that, when she took her panties off, they'd be damp. 
Bobby's docile attitude actually fed her confidence and 
she stepped out of her dress, hung it up on another 
nail, and then bent quickly to pulled her panties down 
and off. When she stood, she was naked for the first 
time in her life in front of a man. Her hands fluttered 
at her waist, wanting to cover her groin and her 
breasts. She fought that urge too.

"Let's g-g-get you in the tub." she croaked.

Ecstasy, that unexpected intense joy, can change the 
way you look at the world. It had changed Meg. She had 
already done something that, a month ago she'd have 
slapped a man for suggesting she do. Now she was naked, 
something else that was unchacteristic for her.

Meg had decided that she had to feel his skin against 
hers. She had dreamed of it and fantasized about it and 
the need to feel him against her had grown until she 
felt like she might burst. The tub was easily large 
enough for two - they put four children in it at the 
same time with no problem. She helped him step into the 
tub and then stepped in with him, the warm water rising 
to her calves.

"N-n-now you sit down and I'll wash your back." she 
said, breathlessly.

When he sat she did too, extending her legs beside him 
so that he sat between them, with his back only inches 
away. She reached up and grabbed the soap and began to 
wash his back with her hands. Now, besides feeling the 
ridges left by repeated assaults on him, she could see 
them too. Her emotions, already stretched to the 
breaking point, flooded out and she sobbed twice before 
being able to control her voice. The last thing she 
needed was for someone to come knocking at that door 
wanting to know who was crying and why. And then 
wanting to know why the door was locked.

Her arms went around him and she pulled him back 
against her, her hands smoothing along his chest.

For Bobby, the feel of her hands, replaced by her soft 
breasts pressing into his back, almost made him cum. He 
concentrated on the feel of her fingers as they swept 
across his nipples, stopping momentarily to explore 
them. He heard her sob and didn't understand how 
anybody could be unhappy in this situation. He turned, 
his eyebrows raised and caught himself just as he was 
about to ask what was wrong. 

Her face was right there, by his cheek as he turned his 
upper body. He remembered how good her kiss had felt. 
If he kissed her would it make her feel good too? Her 
wide eyes stared into his as she panted. He twisted a 
little more, leaning back against the side of the tub 
and her arm raised to go around his neck.

Bobby leaned forward to touch his lips to hers.

Meg had only thought about the feel of his skin on 
hers. There was a cloud of misty thoughts beyond that, 
but they were formless and drifting. Now, with his face 
so close to hers... his lips just inches away... she 
didn't know what to do. When he kissed her, her mind 
exploded into stars and she needed to touch herself, 
like she wouldn't let herself do in the dark of night 
in her bed. She couldn't reach her pussy, though, 
because his hip was digging into it. 

Instead she reached for his prick.

The kiss electrified both of them and they ground their 
lips together, their tongues clashing as their mouths 
opened. His hand came up to reach for her face, but he 
couldn't quite reach it. It settled on her breast 
again, his fingers naturally gravitating to her nipple. 
His fingers, just as naturally, explored that turgid 
bump, as hers had his own, and that one little squeeze 
brought Meg off like a bomb. 

She had not thought to have an orgasm... only to feel 
his skin... and her loins exploded where his hip 
pressed against her clit, ecstasy blowing her mind 
clear of all thought for a few seconds. Her hand 
gripped his shaft so hard that he grunted and she 
immediately let go, unable to concentrate on what was 
happening in her body and tend to his at the same time. 
Her own groan of release she managed to keep in, except 
for the sound that she let loose into his open mouth.

Meg slumped back against the back of the tub, eyes 
closed, weak from her experience. Bobby twisted more, 
nervous that something had happened to her, and gave a 
sigh of relief as she opened her eyes.

Her head lolled and she looked at the door. Suddenly 
realizing it was locked, and had been locked for quite 
a while, she surged upward, pushing Bobby to the front 
of the tub.

"You stay right there until I get things back to 
normal." she whispered. She stepped out of the tub, 
running a towel over her body and stepping back into 
her dress. She hurriedly buttoned the front, checked 
her hair in the mirror - she had put it into a bun so 
it wouldn't get wet - and smoothed the dress over her 
hips. Then she turned back to Bobby, who had watched 
her interestedly.

"Now you." she said huskily.

He stood up in anticipation.

She got to her knees as he bent backwards slightly, 
presenting his dripping rod to her. This was something 
else Meg had thought about. His taste had fascinated 
her the last time, and she had thought of a way to make 
sure that he didn't make a mess when he squirted this 
time. 

She reached out and grasped his firm rod lightly in her 
hand. Then she leaned forward and slid her lips over 
the head of his prick.

Bobby had been excited ever since he saw her naked body 
revealed. Like her, the feel of skin on skin had 
brought him close to release. If she'd have left her 
hand on him a moment longer he would have spurted in 
the water. Now, as he felt his cock head engulfed in 
her hot mouth, he exploded, ecstacy once again flooding 
his mind until he couldn't think. Her other hand came 
up to cup his balls, and while her fingers missed the 
first jerk, they felt the next three as he leaned even 
further backward and groaned. 

Her mouth filled with thick fluid and Meg gulped 
instinctively to keep it from filling her mouth too 
much. After she felt the third jet she sucked, sliding 
her lips further up his spurting pole and then back 
again. She pulled off of him and swirled his cum around 
in her mouth, running her tongue along her teeth... 
tasting him again.

He was, she decided, delicious. His prick began to 
flag, to settle and grow smaller. A bubble of that 
delicious fluid seeped out of the little hole and she 
sucked at the tip, letting her fingers milk him for the 
last drops.

Her knees ached, and that woke her to the task at hand. 
She got him out of the tub and, out of habit, dried him 
off. She couldn't resist bending over and sucking at 
his limp penis one last time, to make sure, she told 
herself, that nothing dripped out of it that would 
alert the others. She planned again to take him out 
into the dining room naked... to re-enforce in the 
minds of the women that he was just a boy... whose 
penis probably didn't get stiff at all.

Last, before they left, she embraced him and kissed him 
deeply.

"Thank you Bobby." she whispered in his ear. "You made 
me very happy."

Bobby felt the urge to kiss her neck, and he did so, 
tasting her skin. She shuddered and pushed him away.

"You must never do that when the others can see," she 
said. "They'd make us stop if they knew. I don't want 
to stop, Bobby. You won't... will you?"

Bobby, again, had no trouble shaking his head.

In one frame of reference, though he didn't know it, 
Bobby had just arrived at level three of Mr. Maslow's 
pyramid. Someone had honest feelings of love for him.


CHAPTER FIVE


Meg should have noticed, when they left the bathroom, 
that all four of the other women seemed to have 
something to do in the dining room, but she was too 
busy trying to act completely normal.

"I see you fared a little better tonight," said Mavis, 
looking at Meg's dress, an odd look on her face.

"Yes, Bobby is a good boy, and learns very quickly," 
said Meg. She saw Sally looking oddly at her too, one 
eyebrow raised, but ignored her rather than ask what 
was troubling her. Instead she went about finding 
Bobby's night shirt, which she'd purposely put in the 
wash so it would be in the pile. She got it on him and 
took his hand.

"I'll go with you," said Sally suddenly.

"Oh" said Meg. "All right."

Bobby led the way, climbing the steps, turning the 
corner and climbing another flight as the two women 
followed him. Sally followed Meg as they entered his 
room with the lantern she had picked up. They didn't 
use electricity unless they had to, due to the war.

They tucked Bobby in and Sally watched as Meg leaned 
down to kiss him on his forehead. Then, to Meg's 
surprise, Sally leaned over and kissed him on the 
cheek. Sally wasn't one to exhibit feelings like that.

When they left the room Sally went first and was 
waiting for Meg.

"What happened in the bathroom?" asked Sally, her voice 
low.

"Whatever do you mean?" asked Meg. She was glad it was 
dark, because she was blushing.

Sally's finger came up and pointed at Meg's chest. 
"Your dress was properly buttoned when you went in 
there." she said simply.

Meg looked down and was horrified to see that she had 
missed a button, and the top three were in the wrong 
holes.

"Surely... you're mistaken," said Meg weakly.

Sally folded her arms under her meager breasts. "I'm 
not mistaken Meg. Your dress was not buttoned like that 
when you went into that room."

Meg felt her stomach knot. She was in trouble and she 
knew it. She threw herself on Sally's mercy. 

"It's just that he splashes so much." she started, 
wringing her hands. "And I just thought that... if I 
took my dress off then it wouldn't get ruined, and I 
wouldn't have to change into a new one..." She stared 
at Sally, for some sign that her story was being 
accepted... or at least understood.

"You let him see you naked?" Sally's voice rose above a 
whisper.

"He's such a good boy Sally, so sweet and helpless. And 
he's been so abused. It didn't hurt anything. Why he 
barely even responded." She bit off that last part. She 
hadn't meant to say anything about his response to her 
nudity. But her tongue had run away with itself. It 
always had, and it had always gotten her into trouble.

"But he DID respond... didn't he Meg?" probed Sally. 
She knew what that response was too.

"Well... yes... a little." admitted Meg.

"What did you do?" asked Sally.

Meg was confused. Sally never talked about anything for 
long... never probed like this... asked so many 
questions. This was a different Sally than the one Meg 
knew.

"Please, Sally, I didn't hurt anything. He's just a 
poor boy. Don't tell Mavis. She'll throw me out Sally."

"What did you do, Meg?" asked Sally again. "You touched 
him, didn't you?"

"Sally..." Meg pleaded.

"Did you touch him?" asked Sally, her voice low.

Meg dropped her head and shook it, not wanting to have 
to admit this to this strange woman.

"Don't lie to me Meg. I may be quiet, but I'm not 
stupid, and neither is Mavis. If you don't think she 
saw your dress buttoned wrong then you're a silly 
goose! That boy's... penis... was limp as a noodle when 
you brought him out of there. If you didn't do 
something then it shouldn't have been limp like that."

Meg knew it was over. And that made her mad. She knew 
that what she and Bobby had done was wrong, at least by 
the standards of this house, but she hadn't hurt him, 
and it had been something wonderful and warm and lovely 
for them both. She believed that.

"What I did in there is my business." she said, raising 
her head and standing tall. "I did not hurt him or 
coerce him in any way. If you feel compelled to take 
this to Mavis then I suppose you will. But I'll not let 
you make me feel like I did something wrong. Everything 
that happened in there was good, and sweet and full of 
love."

She started to push around Sally, who lifted her hands 
and placed them firmly on Meg's chest, above her 
breasts.

"Stop" she said.

This CERTAINLY wasn't the Sally Meg knew. Sally didn't 
have an assertive bone in her body.

"I want to know," said Sally softly. "I just want to 
know what it was like. That's all."

"I don't understand," said Meg.

"Meg, look at me. I know I'm not attractive, like you. 
No man has ever even kissed me, much less anything 
else. I know I'll die a spinster, never knowing a man's 
touch or... what you did in there. At least let me hear 
what it's like to be fully a woman." Sally dropped her 
hands.

Meg's eyes grew round and white in the dark. "We didn't 
do THAT!" she whispered loudly. "Please believe that I 
wouldn't do THAT with him. He's just a boy!"

"But you did do SOMETHING!" Sally probed again.

Meg took a breath and nodded.

"Will you tell me about it?" pleaded Sally, leaning 
forward.

Her attitude was so yearning that Meg believed her. 
"Yes, but not now. They're probably already wondering 
what's taking us so long. I'll tell you, but later. I 
promise."

"Done!" said Sally. She grinned, also something that 
came strangely to her face.

When they got downstairs Donna and Prudence had already 
gone home. Mavis was sitting and darning socks by the 
stove. She looked up at the two women.

"Well, took you long enough. How much tucking in does 
one skinny boy need?" She arched an eyebrow.

"Oh!" said Meg. "He's been in bed a while now. Sally 
and I were just talking."

"That's nice," said Mavis, looking back down at her 
mending. "I thought you'd have fixed that dress by now 
Meg."

Meg's hand went to the buttons immediately and her 
shoulders slumped. She'd completely forgotten about 
that during Sally's interrogation. She waited for the 
questions she knew Mavis was now going to ask.

But when Mavis looked up all she said was "Off to bed 
with you. We've an early morning tomorrow getting them 
all off to school."

That night, the Umpelty Oog struck again. This time it 
was in Jenny, Emily and June Bug's room, and it was 
Emily who screamed out her horror in the night. Meg got 
there first, since she stayed in the room next door. 
Patrick and Terrence were next, and then Bobby arrived 
from upstairs as Sally ghosted down the hallway, 
belting a robe around her.

Emily cried that, when they'd scared it out of 
Patrick's room, it came to hers and was hiding in HER 
closet now. June Bug huddled under her blankets, her 
head firmly covered. Jenny was in the same bed as June 
Bug, but peeked out, the covers up to her chin.

Meg was cross. With all that had happened, she didn't 
need this foolishness, and she didn't feel like 
screaming again at the top of her lungs.

Bobby held up a finger though, and everybody looked at 
him. He squared his shoulders and then began dancing 
around, throwing boxer's punches at nothing. Then he 
straightened up again, and pointed to himself, and then 
at the closet. He took Meg by her arms and moved her 
close to Emily's bed. He shooed the two boys out into 
the hallway.

Then he marched to the closet door, opened it, stepped 
inside, and slammed the door closed. He felt 
immediately for the stick he had hidden there earlier. 
Once he had it in his hand he began banging the walls 
with it, and throwing his body around inside the 
closet. He laid the stick on the floor, opened the door 
and thrust himself out into the room, falling to the 
floor and rolling. There were screams from Emily and 
the boys. Bobby hauled himself up and went back in the 
closet, leaving the door halfway open this time. He 
retrieved the stick, bounced himself off the walls a 
few more times and then broke the stick over his knee 
with a sharp crack.

Bobby stuffed the broken pieces of the branch up under 
some clothes on the top shelf. Then he walked out of 
the closet, dusting off his hands, slapping his palms 
together and smiling widely. He stopped, and put his 
hands on his hips, like he'd seen in a picture of Peter 
Pan in one of the books downstairs. He looked at the 
women first. Meg was covering a smile with her hand. 
Sally looked on, her mouth open. Mavis had arrived 
during the incident, and Meg had one hand on her arm, 
restraining her.

"What happened?" asked Patrick in a squeaky voice.

Bobby pantomimed boxing again, and then made the same 
motions he would as if breaking something in half with 
his hands. He let his head flop sideways and made his 
tongue hang out, slumping.

"You KILLED HIM?!" squealed Emily. "You KILLED the 
Umpelty Oog?!"

Bobby straightened up and dusted his hands again, 
smiling. Then he went to the closet door and swung it 
wide, as if to show them it was now empty.

Patrick edged into the room, craning his neck to see. 
"Where is he?" he asked, holding on to Mavis' night 
dress in a grip that threatened to pull it off her 
shoulders.

Bobby had thought of that too. He stuffed imaginary 
things in his mouth, chewed and swallowed, and then 
rubbed his stomach.

"You ATE the Umpelty Oog?!" squealed Emily. She bounded 
out of bed and threw herself at Bobby, hugging his legs 
fiercely.

"Wow," said Patrick in a hushed voice. He looked up at 
Mavis, who was holding her nightdress on. "He killed 
the Umpelty Oog." he said, his voice hushed.

"He most certainly did," said Mavis, her voice loud in 
the room. "And I, for one, am glad the ugly beast will 
trouble us no more. At last we can get a good night's 
sleep. Off to bed children. School starts again 
tomorrow."

Mavis took charge of the two boys and herded them 
toward their room.

Emily looked up at Bobby.

"I could kiss you Bobby." she said, mimicking something 
she'd heard an adult say one time.

"Well" said Sally, coming across the room. "I'll kiss 
him for you, and you get to BED!" She reached down to 
swat Emily's backside.

Emily squealed and laughed and ran, jumping up on the 
bed and burrowing under her covers.

Sally looked calmly in Bobby's eyes and pulled his face 
down for a kiss.

Sally had never kissed a man. She'd kissed her pillow, 
and a few dogs as she was growing up, before she 
realized that men weren't interested in her. And she'd 
kissed the babies and cooed at them. So she knew, in 
theory, how to kiss. She pressed her soft lips to 
Bobby's in an attempt to tell him how powerfully 
thankful she was for what he'd just done.

Bobby, having already decided that he liked this 
kissing business, kissed her back. He kissed her the 
only way he knew how to kiss... the way he kissed Meg.

Sally's world changed forever in that kiss. It left her 
weak-kneed and gasping for breath. She was suddenly 
quite sure she'd have been a lot happier if she hadn't 
done it, because now she knew she'd never be happy 
unless she had a man to kiss her like that whenever she 
wanted to. But she took what was offered, as she did in 
the rest of her life, and enjoyed it to the maximum. 
When she finally sank back down on her heels and turned 
around, her glazed eyes took in the three other females 
in the room, all watching her intently.

Meg stepped forward. "And I will kiss him for June Bug 
and Jenny," she said. 

She reacted to that kiss much as Sally had. She hoped, 
more than she had hoped for many things in her life, 
that she'd get the chance to kiss him again.

The girls, however, were having none of it. 

"I can hug him myself," said Emily, sitting up in bed 
and holding out her arms.

Bobby went over between the beds and hugged the little 
girl, planting a quick kiss on her lips. Then he turned 
to find Jenny and June Bug standing up in their bed, 
holding out their arms too. June Bug hugged him 
fiercely and planted five or six kisses on his cheeks 
and lips before dropping like a stone and getting back 
under the covers. Jenny, being older, gave him a quick 
hug and a peck on the lips, and joined her bedmate.

Then, walking very normally, Bobby went past the two 
women, turned and went toward the stairs.

"You HAVE to tell me!" whispered Sally, her hand 
gripping Meg's arm.

"I will," said Meg. "I will."

***

Miss Rachael Templeton slogged through the door of her 
two room schoolhouse, stomping the snow off her feet 
and going to the stove to get it going. Once she had a 
blaze of wood burning, she fed it some coal and closed 
the pot bellied stove up, adjusting the draft so it 
wouldn't smoke too badly. 

Next she went to the sink and looked inside. Sure 
enough, there was a glaze of ice in the bottom. She 
tried the pump handle, and sighed with relief when she 
heard the gurgle that meant it wasn't frozen up.

There wasn't anything else to do until the children 
arrived... if they arrived. She normally had fourteen 
students, the vast majority of them from Mrs. 
Milleson's orphanage. Other than them there were the 
twelve-year-old Halsted twins, Patsy Brown, who was 
fourteen and too old to still be going to a combined 
school, but did anyway because it was the only school 
available within twenty miles, and Mike Simpson, who 
only came to school when his father didn't need him on 
the farm. That occurrence was rare, even in the dead of 
winter for some reason.

She left her coat and gloves on, as the room wouldn't 
warm up for an hour or two. She had stuffed rags in the 
chinks around windows, and had managed to get the town 
fathers to supply heavy curtains that helped a little. 
But all there was between them and the cold, cruel 
world outside were clapboards nailed to studs. The 
whole place shook in the wind if it was strong enough.

She wandered over to the rope that hung down in the 
center of the room and grasped it, putting her whole 
weight on it as she pulled downward. She heard the 
doleful tolling of the big brass bell up above and knew 
that it was being heard all over town.

Then she pulled up a chair next to the stove and sat, 
huddling, wondering yet again how she had ended up in 
Hampstead Nebraska in the middle of the coldest winter 
she'd ever seen in her life. It wasn't supposed to 
happen like this. Rachel came from a good family back 
east, in Philadelphia, where things were civilized, 
even during the war. Her role models had been the 
beautiful and talented teachers who taught there, women 
who were respected and revered. She had looked at her 
teachers, dreaming about being one of them who, with 
the wave of a hand, could have a boy taken out and 
paddled.

Rachel had gone to college to be a teacher. She did 
that mostly because that's really what she wanted to 
do... to make a difference in young people's lives. But 
she also did it because she saw what other choices 
women had. She happened to have entered college a year 
before Pearl Harbor was attacked, which gave her 
precedence when things started to get tight. She 
shuddered at the thought of what she'd be doing if she 
hadn't been in teacher's college. She'd heard of women 
welding, for pity's sake, carrying heavy things, 
building airplanes and getting filthy. So she applied 
herself to make sure she got that sheepskin, and one of 
those cushy jobs back east.

Except that it hadn't worked out that way. What no one 
told her was that there were very few cushy jobs any 
more, for teachers or anyone else. And for the cushy 
jobs that DID exist, there were twenty... fifty... a 
hundred women lined up who would do anything to get 
them.

Rachel could have gotten one. All she'd have had to do 
was sleep with Horace Vandermeister. But his knowing 
sneer and his fat belly when he told her "the facts of 
life" left her so nauseated that she actually cursed at 
him. He had promptly, somehow, arranged for her to be 
assigned to the Hampstead Nebraska Consolidated School.

She had appealed to her father to get her out of her 
assignment, but she couldn't tell him the real reason 
why. He had harrumphed and told her that adversity 
built character, and that pressure made diamonds and 
probably six or seven more worn out cliché's before she 
quit listening and resigned herself to go to Nebraska. 
Besides, wasn't middle America just full of strong, 
tall men who worked the earth and were windblown and 
sun-creased and handsome?

That stereotype had bitten the bullet as soon as she 
stepped off the train and had to carry her own bags. No 
one met her. She was expected to find her way around, 
arrange for her lodgings herself and introduce herself 
to the superintendent of schools, Hiram Hochstedder 
who, when he wasn't conducting extremely important 
school business, ran Duffy's Tavern over on "B" street. 
"These hicks," she had muttered to herself, "can't even 
name a street, much less treat me with the respect a 
school teacher deserves." She conveniently failed to 
remember that she had absolutely no experience at all 
in actually teaching.

That first day had been tough on Rachel. When she asked 
around for the superintendent of schools, she was 
referred to a saloon, which no lady of any standing 
would think of entering. But she had to, because she 
had no money, and needed a place to stay. Her "room" 
was out back of that very same saloon in a tidy little 
building with three actual rooms, including a tiny 
kitchen. The whole place smelled faintly of manure, but 
it was somewhere to hang her hat, so she settled in. It 
was six months before someone told her she was living 
in what used to be the stables.

But by then, she had learned a large number of 
important life lessons, chief among them that, if you 
aren't nice to people, then they very well may shit on 
you if they have the chance. And there was a LOT of 
shit in this town. She had adjusted slowly and 
painfully though, and even though she wouldn't have 
thought it, she was a better person for what she'd gone 
through. It was soon clear that she had no hopes for 
bagging a rich man in this town, or even a young one. 

And so, her cherished virginity was perfectly safe and 
intact... and in Hampstead Nebraska she didn't see much 
of an opportunity for that to change.

Well, actually, she could probably lose it at the drop 
of a hat, but it would be with a man over forty-five, 
probably a farmer and quite likely someone who had a 
window in his mouth when he smiled.

That Rachel's virginity was intact was a thing of 
sadness to most of the men in town, including the 
married ones. Rachel came from fine Swedish stock, with 
that clear skin, blue eyes and golden hair that makes 
men's scrotums tighten. She was a healthy girl too, 
with bulging breasts and wide hips. Her lips were full 
and dark, even without the makeup women had to give up 
during the war. Rachel was a walking, talking baby 
machine, from the men's point of view. That the machine 
was still brand new and had never been taken out on the 
road seemed a horrible waste. There was pretty much a 
consensus among the men too, that it was just too bad 
that she set such damn high standards for herself.

So, since Rachel didn't have to spend much time on 
managing men, she turned all her energies to her 
students.

To her everlasting amazement, Rachel found out she 
loved teaching, and was actually pretty good at it. She 
loved "her" children and, during the autumn, actually 
gave serious consideration to staying here. The war 
couldn't last forever, and she knew that some thirty 
young men from Hampstead would be returning when it was 
over.

Then winter set in and Rachel decided that she had to 
do a good enough job to get transferred to somewhere 
civilized.

***

By the time it was warm enough to take her gloves off, 
her first student had arrived. Patsy stomped into the 
room like Rachel had, trying to get enough snow off her 
footwear to make sure they didn't get too wet when the 
rest melted. Patsy was an unimaginative girl who, fifty 
or sixty years ago would have been married already, 
with one baby on her hip, and another in her belly. She 
didn't see the need to learn anything, but was so lazy 
that she went to school so she didn't have to stay 
home, where she'd be expected to work.

Then there was general pandemonium as Mrs. Milleson's 
brood flooded in through the door, accompanied by two 
of the women who worked there. There was a man with 
them too, which was surprising. She looked more closely 
as the man took off a ridiculous coonskin cap. No, he 
was a boy, maybe Patsy's age. Two of the Milleson girls 
were hanging off of him like Christmas ornaments, and 
he bent over to help them out of their coats. 

She started to tell him to stop, because it was too 
cold in the school house yet, but the women were also 
removing the coats of the other children. They didn't 
look like they were cold and she shivered. If she ever 
lived here long enough to get used to this kind of cold 
she was going to find a pistol and blow her brains out.

One of the women stood up. What was her name? Hortence? 
Paula? Oh yes... Prudence. Her husband was off at the 
war. Rachel smiled at her.

"This is our latest acquisition." Prudence said, 
indicating the boy. "His name is Bobby, and he's mute."

Rachel sighed. Another one that didn't talk. She 
already had that odd little girl with that odd little 
name. Who in the world named a child June Bug? If she'd 
been named June Bug she wouldn't talk either. On the 
other hand, June Bug had a knack with numbers, and with 
a pencil and paper, she could do things that a lot of 
much older children couldn't do.

"Do we have any idea of his capabilities?" asked 
Rachel.

"Only that he can write... at least a little," said the 
woman. "We're not sure. We thought he was simple-
minded, but he's a little too quick at picking up some 
things for that to hold water in my opinion."

"Well, then, perhaps we have something to work with," 
said Rachel. The boy was staring at her. All males 
stared at her. She corrected her estimation of his age 
upward. But his gaze wasn't lustful, like those of most 
men. He was just looking at her... with a look that was 
more like "just interested" than "wishing you were 
naked".

She walked over to him, smiling the smile she used with 
men when she wanted them to pant and beg to please her.

"Well, Bobby is it? How nice. I'm happy to meet you 
Bobby. My name is Miss Templeton, and I'll be your 
teacher. Prudence tells me you can write. Is this 
correct?"

He nodded.

"And can you read?" she asked.

Another nod.

"How about numbers. Do you know anything of math?"

Yet another nod.

"Well, we'll see," said Rachel "Let me get the little 
ones to practicing their letters and I'll give you some 
tests." 

She ignored him then, getting out paper and pencils and 
the ragged forty year old texts she used to teach 
writing. Most of the children were so young that all 
she did with them was teach them the alphabet, and work 
with them on writing the letters out. With the older 
students she worked on arithmetic and reading, as well 
as cursive writing.

Once she had set tasks for all the others, including 
the Halsted twins who finally tromped in through the 
door after all the others were already at work, she 
turned to Bobby. She sat him down at a desk and gave 
him pencil and paper. She started out asking him if he 
could write his name, and if he knew how old he was. 
Then, for lack of anything else she could think of she 
asked him if he knew how to spell the colors of the 
rainbow. He had performed everything perfectly and she 
realized he was no halfwit at all. She changed to math 
and set him some verbal challenges. He scribbled on the 
paper and she saw that he had division and 
multiplication down pat. She tried a bit of algebra, 
which bothered him not at all.

Rachel looked at the boy anew. "How long have you been 
going to school?" she asked him. He scribbled for a 
minute and handed her the paper. It said, in succinct 
and grammatically correct English that the had been in 
the orphanage system for as long as he could remember 
and, choosing to learn rather than be beaten, he had 
soaked up a little knowledge.

Rachel looked at him surprised. "And you read too?"

Bobby listed his favorite books and authors, and 
Rachel's opinion of him went up another notch. She 
paused, thinking like she usually thought.

"Why didn't you just pretend that you didn't know how 
to read or write?" she asked. "You had to know that if 
I thought you were a halfwit that I'd put you in a 
corner and leave you alone."

Bobby scribbled. "I'd have been bored to tears. 
Besides, you sound like home. Your accent sounds like 
Boston."

She smiled. "Well, at least you don't know everything. 
I'm from Philadelphia, and we don't sound anything like 
those pretentious snobs in Massachusetts."

Rachel went over to a shelf and pulled down a book. She 
came back and showed it to him. It was called A 
Connecticut Yankee In King Arthur's Court, by Mark 
Twain. "Have you read this yet?" she asked. Bobby shook 
his head and she handed him the book. "You can read 
that until the rest of us are done. I'll have to test 
you some more to figure out if there's anything I can 
teach you or not."

Rachel spent the rest of the morning with her usual 
students, every so often glancing over at Bobby, who 
was reading at a rapid pace, his attention solely on 
the book. He looked up when she took her coat off and 
she exposed her thrusting, well-filled bodice, but then 
went right back to the book. She was both surprised 
and, to be honest, a little disappointed that Mark 
Twain seemed more important than her ability to 
mesmerize the males of the species.

School only went until noon, since most children were 
expected to work at home, as well as go to school. And, 
truth to tell, Rachel was going over the same things 
over and over again anyway. She was going to start 
reading to them soon, and teaching them to read too, 
but that hadn't started and couldn't really until they 
had a good grasp of their letters. 

Normally she was bored in the afternoons, and she saw 
Bobby as a chance to do something besides be bored. 
When the women came back to collect the children, 
Rachel asked if Bobby could stay for further testing. 
The woman, whose name she didn't know, looked at her 
intently, and then nodded her head fractionally. Then 
she turned to Bobby and spoke to him, "Bobby, do you 
remember how to get back to the house?"

Bobby nodded and a voice came from outside. "Come ON, 
Meg, they're beginning to scatter."

Meg looked at Bobby as he nodded. "All right. You come 
straight home after the teacher is done with you. All 
right?"

Bobby nodded again and smiled.

Rachel had watched the whole exchange and, with a 
woman's radar, had seen something there that most women 
and almost no men would have seen.

"You like her don't you?" asked Rachel.

Bobby stared at her, his eyes going flat.

"Now, now, Bobby, it's perfectly normal for a boy to 
have crushes on a pretty woman. And she's quite pretty 
in her own way, don't you think?"

Bobby nodded fractionally and she smiled.

They sat, Rachel asking questions, and Bobby writing 
his responses. She found out he'd come from New York. 
She was hungry for news, but Bobby couldn't tell her 
much of that. She asked him about foods he missed, and 
learned that he had never eaten outside an orphanage, 
and didn't even know about regional foods that were 
world famous. He knew he had been a lot of places, but 
didn't know the names of them. 

Finally she asked him about the children at Mrs. 
Milleson's house. On that he was brilliant. He wrote 
about what made them tick, and how he got them to do 
what he wanted them to do, even without talking. He 
told her the story of the Umpelty Oog, and what he had 
done to kill it. She laughed and clapped. 

Suddenly she put her hand over her stomach, which 
growled audibly. She looked at a locket watch that was 
pinned to her dress. 

"Oh my goodness, it's almost three. You'd better get 
home. And I need to go home and get something to eat 
too. This was fun Bobby. I'll arrange for us to spend 
several afternoons a week together if you like. I can 
get the books you need to read. You have no idea what 
kind of literature there is out there Bobby, but I'll 
teach you about it. I'll speak to Mrs. Milleson. Now, 
off with you."

Bobby got up and shrugged into his coat before putting 
his ridiculous hat on. Then he turned and his eyes 
swept from her face to her feet and back up again. His 
eyes lingered on her breasts and she felt herself 
flushing beet red. He smiled, waved and darted out the 
door, running pell mell toward the Milleson House.

Rachel realized her heart was beating firmly in her 
chest. His gaze had been so personal, so intimate, as 
if he could see clear through her clothes. And yet, it 
had been friendly too, as if to say "You are naked and 
beautiful and a vision of loveliness - for which I 
thank you kindly ma'am." It jarred her somehow to be 
appreciated so obviously, but so... safely... too.

She shrugged into her own coat, banked the fire, and 
left, closing the door firmly behind her.

***

Herding the children back home after school was the 
first time, Sally and Meg had had to talk privately. 
The children wanted to make and throw snowballs, like 
they had seen Bobby do, and the women strolled slowly 
in the frigid air.

"So now, tell me." ordered Sally excitedly.

"There's not all that much to tell," said Meg, sounding 
grumpy.

"Come on Meg, don't back down. You promised." wheedled 
Sally.

Meg looked over at her friend, who had changed so much 
in just hours. She'd watched Sally kiss Bobby last 
night and experienced a rush of emotions, not the least 
of them, to her chagrin, jealousy. And she was feeling 
that again, but for different reasons.

"I'll tell you. I'm just upset about HER." She nodded 
over her shoulder.

"The teacher? What did she do to you?" asked Sally.

"Nothing, but she's back there trying to get her hooks 
in Bobby. I just know she is. And Bobby, poor thing, 
probably doesn't have any defenses against a woman like 
her."

"She is pretty." sighed Sally, who thought all other 
women were pretty. "but she's just a teacher. Surely 
she wouldn't see anything in Bobby.

"I did," said Meg softly. "I can't control myself when 
I'm around him." she admitted. "Sally I've done things 
with him I never even THOUGHT about doing with any 
other man."

"So... TELL ME!" shouted Sally, scooping up a handful 
of snow and flinging it at Meg. 

So, while the children played, and they moved slowly 
toward the house, Meg confessed how it had started, and 
then how she felt, and what Bobby's penis felt like in 
her hand. She hadn't meant to admit or talk about 
getting his semen in her mouth, but she was so excited 
remembering it that it just spilled out.

"In your MOUTH!?" squealed Sally. "Oh how HORRID!"

"NO!" said Meg, while wishing she hadn't said anything 
about that. "It wasn't like that at ALL! It was 
wonderful! It was delicious! Sally I know it sounds 
strange, but I LOVED it!"

"Really?" Sally was intrigued. She knew so little of 
sex that anything she heard was interesting and, since 
her parents' basic rule was that anything at all that 
had to do with sex was dirty and disgusting, getting 
semen in your mouth wasn't actually any more disgusting 
to Sally than anything else. She'd just never thought 
about that.

Meg could tell that Sally was neither disgusted or 
horrified, and that calmed her. This new Sally was 
someone she WANTED to talk to.

"Really." she confirmed. "In fact, it was so delicious 
that I... well... last night... I put my mouth on him 
and drank it all."

She stopped and tensed, waiting for Sally to explode, 
and call her a slut, or a whore, or, at the minimum, a 
tramp.

But Sally didn't explode. She did stare, as she thought 
about what boys did with their penises, and that wasn't 
too attractive to think about in terms of putting one 
in your mouth. But, Bobby had just had a bath, so it 
was nice and clean, and that didn't seem so bad to 
Sally. All Sally had ever thought about was the usual 
thing a man did with a woman... where his penis went in 
a different... orifice.

"But you didn't let him...?" she couldn't say the 
actual words, but her meaning was clear.

"No," said Meg, suddenly wondering why she'd never 
thought of doing that with him. Then she realized she'd 
never thought of doing that with any man. She'd thought 
about it in hazy fantasies, but, other than the feel of 
her fingers on her pudendum, she had no idea what it 
would feel like, so it was impossible to really think 
about. "He only touched my nipple."

"Really?" That got Sally excited again. Her own nipples 
were so sensitive that sometimes it drove her to 
distraction as they were scraped by her clothing.

So then Meg had to describe how Bobby's naked hip had 
pressed between her leg, while his fingers pinched her 
nipple, and he kissed her. Meg wasn't quite sure 
whether she'd had an actual orgasm or not. She'd heard 
of such things, but never talked about that with any 
human being, so she didn't know quite what an orgasm 
was supposed to feel like.

They both realized that they had stopped, facing each 
other, and that the children had drifted down the 
street. They hurried to catch up.

"Ohhh" sighed Sally. "If only something like that could 
happen to me." 

Meg walked, thoughtfully. The green eyed monster still 
played in the back of her mind, but it was more 
associated with that blond school teacher than it was 
with Sally. Sally truly was very plain and, until 
recently, so shy and retiring that no one thought she'd 
meet a man. Meg liked this new, excited and talkative 
Sally.

"What if you gave Bobby his bath next time?" she asked 
quietly.

Sally stopped, her mouth open. "Oh I COULDN'T!" she 
moaned. Her pale face pinked up a bit in the cold air.

"And why not?" asked Meg, suddenly wanting someone else 
to do the terrible things she had done and that she 
didn't want to be terrible any more. If someone else 
did them too then it couldn't be terrible, could it? 
Sally was one of the nicest women she knew, and maybe 
this would help her find some happiness too. "I don't 
think Bobby will care one way or the other. Didn't he 
kiss you back last night?"

Sally's eyes glazed over. "He sure did. I thought I was 
going to fall down!"

"See?" pronounced Meg. "He already likes you. And I 
don't mind sharing him." She thought about that for a 
second. "Well, actually I do mind, but I SHOULDN'T 
mind. He's not mine or anything. I just know how I feel 
when I think about going in there with him again."

Sally's eyes came back into focus. "Do you think you'd 
ever let him...?" She still couldn't say it.

Now it was Meg's face that warmed up in the frosty air. 
"How could you ask me something like that?!" she said, 
trying to keep herself from thinking about it.

"The last time you tried to put me off you were hiding 
something," said Sally, her eyes narrowing shrewdly. 
"Are you trying to hide something now Meg? Have you 
thought about letting him... letting him make... love 
to you?" She almost couldn't finish that sentence.

"I don't know," said Meg, slumping a little. "Until 
yesterday I'd have chased you down the street for 
asking me a thing like that. But I can't do that now. I 
get all... itchy when I think about him and playing 
with... it."

"Maybe we should BOTH give him his next bath." 
suggested Sally.

Meg shook her head. "Mavis would never buy that. You 
all are already busy putting the children to bed when I 
take him in there. She'd know something strange was 
going on."

"Have you forgotten what she said last night?" Sally 
asked incredulously.

"OH!" yipped Meg. "I actually HAD! Oh Sally, what are 
we going to do? You HAVE to do it next time. Then maybe 
Mavis will decide it was just something simple that 
happened to my dress. I mean she'd think I wasn't in a 
hurry to go back in there with him. Wouldn't she?"

"I don't know if I could do it," said Sally.

"Just wash him and leave it at that. He's just a boy. 
Surely it doesn't get hard every single time he takes a 
bath," said Meg.

"Well, I think I'm crazy for this, but all right," said 
Sally. She felt an unexpected and unfamiliar 
excitedness that made her warm all over.

That decided, they gathered up the children and hurried 
home.


CHAPTER SIX


When Bobby came in the back door and stomped his boots 
clean, Mavis noted that Meg and Sally took an 
inordinate interest in how school had been for him. He 
had written several notes to Mavis in the last week, in 
response to questions from her about one thing or 
another, and she knew he was much smarter than the rest 
of them thought. She also knew that, in his heart, he 
was a good boy... or man, as it were. She too had seen 
the marks on his back, and knew that that could have 
made him mean, but hadn't. And he was almost a man, she 
thought. 

She looked at him speculatively. She hadn't taken the 
time to think about him all that much. He'd fitted in 
well, and hadn't caused a single problem. Well, not yet 
anyway. She'd also seen what swung between his legs. 
She'd reacted to that lovely penis herself, and she 
certainly couldn't blame two young, single women for 
noticing it too. 

Could that be a problem? she wondered. There would 
certainly be a sensation in town if either of them 
turned up with a swelled belly. She pondered that for a 
minute and snorted. There was no way in the world Sally 
had the gumption to take up with the boy. And Meg... 
well Meg might bear some watching. It WAS possible that 
she had just loosened a few buttons because it was hot 
in the bathroom, and then re-buttoned them wrong.

She looked at Bobby. He was smiling. He had a beautiful 
smile. He was a handsome man, or would be if he got a 
little more meat on his bones. And that would happen 
too, at the rate he ate. He had asked for paper and 
pencil and was writing a note to Meg. She got up from 
peeling potatoes and went over to see what was going 
on.

Meg had just finished reading the note. "His teacher 
wants to spend some extra time with him," said Meg. She 
didn't sound happy about that, though there was no real 
reason why it wasn't a good idea.

"Well, he needs an education," said Mavis neutrally.

"Yes... but..." Meg's voice dropped off.

"But what, Meg?" asked Mavis calmly.

"Oh nothing," said Meg, handing her the note, her jaws 
clenched."

The little danger flag in Mavis' mind inched higher on 
the flag pole.

***

Over the next week Rachel kept Bobby behind at school 
three more times. That he was intelligent she could 
tell immediately upon testing him some more. But when 
she asked him why he couldn't talk, he got a guarded 
look in his eye and couldn't provide any information. 

At one point she made him open his mouth, to see if he 
had a tongue or not, and he looked at her strangely. In 
the process she got close enough to him to smell his 
scent. He didn't smell like most of the men she met on 
a casual basis. They smelled of stale sweat, and most 
had poor oral hygiene too. Bobby, on the other hand, 
smelled good, like a man should in her mind. And his 
breath was clean too.

She asked him about that, and learned through his 
writing that he had been taken to a dentist once, and 
after that he had done everything possible to make sure 
he never had to go again. She looked again and saw 
where the tooth had been pulled. He showed her the new 
toothbrush Mavis had gotten him, that he still carried 
in his pocket, and used each time he ate.

He read everything she gave him, and only rarely 
pointed to a word to have her explain its meaning. 
While she didn't have the classics in the school house, 
she owned a few herself, and knew people who would loan 
her things... Chaucer, Shakespere, more of Twain's work 
and many others. During regular school he sat in a 
corner and read, unless she needed him to help, which 
he did willingly. 

He was a wizard at teaching the younger children their 
numbers, and how to add and subtract. And he sat with 
them and helped them draw out their letters too, 
showing them his own and then watching closely as they 
tried to copy that. She smiled at the two girls who had 
a crush on him. If June Bug and Emily had been ten 
years older they'd have lost their virginity to him by 
now. She wondered what it would be like lying with 
Bobby.

Her head jerked. Where in the world had THAT thought 
come from? She looked at him, as if he might be working 
some magic spell on her, but he was simply reading at 
the time. Reading with those deep brown eyes of his, 
under those too long lashes of his. Her head jerked 
again and a child asked a question. She was only too 
happy to focus on that.

***

It was Friday night when the accident happened. Jerry 
and Terrence were playing catch in the parlor. They 
were throwing a rolled up sock back and forth. When 
Jerry's throw went wrong, Terrence dove to catch it and 
hit the clothes tree that several coats were hung on. 
It tipped, and the weight of the coats sent it into the 
window nearby. 

There was only one hook on the clothes tree that wasn't 
occupied, and that was the one that hit the window. The 
glass broke with a crack and tinkling sound as the 
pieces fell, mostly outside in the snow. Terrence was 
still off balance, though, and he instinctively tried 
to grab onto something to stop his fall. His nine-year-
old hand landed on the broken edge of the glass still 
in the window frame and nearly took two of his fingers 
off.

The breaking glass got everyone's attention. Terrence's 
screams as he saw his bloody hand got them all running.

Mavis knew it was bad when she saw the amount of blood 
that had already spilled and welled out of the boy's 
tightly closed hand, which he was holding to his chest 
as he sat and rocked and screamed.

She had towels brought to her and had Meg hold Terrence 
tightly while she pried his hand open to try to stop 
the bleeding. Her blood ran cold when she saw the 
damage. He had to be seen by a doctor, and he had to be 
seen soon. She stuffed the end of the towel against the 
wound and let him close his hand again. Then she 
instructed Meg to help him hold the hand tightly 
closed. Prudence and Donna were already gone, since it 
was so close to bedtime. That only left her and Sally 
to take care of the kids, since Meg was tied up with 
Terrence.

She went to the desk and, with bloody hands, wrote a 
note. She called to Bobby, who had been standing and 
watching.

"Take this down to Doctor Johanson's office. He lives 
upstairs from his office. If you can't find him there, 
go to the saloon. He has to get this note, Bobby, and 
he has to come soon. Terrence could bleed to death if 
not.

Bobby took time to get his coat, which was good, 
because it was bitterly cold in the night air. He ran, 
but when he got to the Doctor's office on C street all 
the windows were dark. He headed for the saloon. The 
back door was closer, so that's where he went. He burst 
into that door, into the kitchen, where an amazingly 
fat woman was standing at a big wooden table rolling 
out pie crusts. She looked at him and frowned.

"Don't need no snot nosed boys hanging around here!" 
she barked. "Now GIT!" She brandished the rolling pin 
in her hand.

Normally, Bobby would have done exactly what she said. 
But he couldn't. 

"Doctor" he said explosively. He was so unused to 
speaking that only one word came out. He held up the 
bloody note and the woman paled.

"In there." she pointed to a set of double glass doors 
with lace curtains making it impossible to see through 
them. 

Bobby darted to the doors and pushed one open. Inside 
there was a table, set for dinner. Through another set 
of doors Bobby could see the saloon proper. He was in 
the dining room. There were six men sitting around the 
table, smoking cigars, the remains of dinner cluttering 
the table. A bottle of whiskey stood unstoppered beside 
a man wearing a vest. The doctor was sitting in another 
chair. Bobby had been with Mavis one time on a shopping 
trip when she stopped Doctor Johansen to ask him a 
question about a rash on one of the children. She had 
introduced Bobby, who, of course, had said nothing.

Bobby went to the man and thrust out the bloody note. 
The man read it quickly and jumped up.

"Gotta go boys." he said, grabbing his coat. "House 
call." he added. He went out the doors to the saloon 
immediately. Bobby started to follow but was grabbed by 
the collar of his coat.

"No you don't, boy!" said the fat woman, who had 
followed him into the dining room. "You go out there 
and the constable will make my life miserable for a 
month. Out the way you came in!" she said. Bobby 
wondered if she knew the constable himself was one of 
the men sitting at the table. She manhandled him with 
surprising strength and dragged him back to the kitchen 
and to the back door. She opened the door, shoved him 
through it and slammed it again without another word.

He pulled up the collar of his coat and started down 
the line of buildings that abutted the saloon. He had 
to pass a smaller building, set back from the alleyway, 
and noticed that there were lights in its windows. He 
didn't think anything of that until he was right beside 
it and heard a muffled scream. It obviously came from 
that little building. He heard a woman scream "GET OUT" 
and then a sound he knew only too well, that of a hand 
hitting flesh. He moved closer, and heard the woman 
crying and pleading "Don't do this."

Bobby stood there, unsure of what to do. Whatever was 
going on in there wasn't any of his business. He 
thought to go on and the woman screamed again, a 
terrified sound. There was another slap and a gruff 
male voice shouted "SHUT UP BITCH, OR I'LL KILL YOU!" 

There was a pile of discarded trash and crates against 
the wall and Bobby saw a board lying loose. It was 
about three feet long, and narrow enough that he could 
grip it. He picked it up and stole closer to the 
nearest window. There were curtains inside, but there 
was a slim gap in them that let him see part of the 
room.

He could see half of the back of the man, and beyond 
him a bed with a woman on it. The woman lay crossways 
on the bed, her knees at the edge, her feet hanging 
down. The man raised his right arm and slapped the 
woman again, making Bobby wince. He had put all of his 
strength into that blow. He couldn't see the woman's 
upper body, but he could see that she was naked, though 
her clothing lay on the bed under her. He realized her 
dress had been torn open and she was lying on top of 
it. He could see that the woman had golden blond hair 
between her legs that puffed out and looked strange to 
Bobby. 

He could also hear her terrified screams as the man 
pushed his suspenders off his shoulders and let his 
pants fall.

Bobby didn't have a clear understanding of rape, or the 
ins and outs of sexual behavior between adults. But he 
knew that nobody deserved to be treated like this. 

Then the man moved, and Bobby saw that the woman was 
Miss Templeton.

After it was all over he couldn't remember running to 
the door, or pushing it open. What he did remember was 
the knife in the man's left hand as he stood over Miss 
Templeton and the stiff penis that jutted from the 
man's groin. He remembered the man turning his head 
toward Bobby, and the snarl on the man's face as he 
raised the knife.

And Bobby remembered swinging the board, aiming for the 
side of the man's head.

The man went down instantly, and the board was jerked 
from Bobby's hand, driving splinters deep into his 
fingers.

***

Level two of Mr. Maslow's pyramid is where events like 
this take place. Bobby, according to Mr. Maslow, had 
just defended someone he cared about. It was an animal 
reaction, which is quite normal on the lower levels of 
the pyramid, but it was based on a very human thought 
process.

***

Bobby stared at the blood where the board, for some 
reason, seemed stuck to the man's head. He noticed that 
the knife was lying on the floor, and that the tip had 
a reddish glint to it.

Then he looked at Miss Templeton, who lay splayed on 
the bed, naked and sobbing. There was blood on her too. 
It was coming from a wound under her chin, and had 
trickled down her chest to cross one pale breast.

He couldn't help but notice her breasts, even though 
that wasn't uppermost in his mind. They were probably 
twice as big as Meg's, and rounder. Meg's nipples were 
brownish, but Miss Templeton's were pink.

Then she saw him and struggled to sit up. Once her 
motion got going she flew up off the bed and she 
tripped over the man's body at her feet. Bobby stepped 
forward and caught her, his hands sliding up her sides 
to her armpits. Her forward motion made her take a step 
and she stepped on the man's body, then up and over it 
into Bobby's arms. She was crying hysterically and her 
grip on Bobby was so strong he couldn't have broken it 
if he'd have tried. He would have spoken then, but he 
had no idea what to say. The man wasn't moving, and 
Bobby didn't know if he was in trouble or not.

So he just stood there and held her. Her torn dress 
covered her back, as it was still whole across her 
shoulders, but her naked front was pressed against him. 
He knew that, yet he didn't think of her in the same 
way he thought of doing this with Meg. He did not get 
erect.

Bobby began to suspect more and more that he was in 
trouble. He'd spoken to the fat woman, but not to 
anyone else. Maybe he could still get away with playing 
mute. He knew he had to go get someone. He couldn't 
stay here, and he couldn't just leave. He remembered 
that the constable was in the saloon, or had been when 
he left the dining room.

She finally began to calm, her shuddering breaths 
coming more easily, and words beginning to tumble out 
of her mouth. She must have said "Thank you" ten or 
fifteen times in between her recounting of how the man 
had forced his way in, and ripped her dress said he 
would kill her if she screamed.

He pried Miss Templeton back away from him, his eyes 
going automatically to those big, round pale breasts. 
He pulled at the tatters of her dress where the buttons 
had been ripped off, and pulled the cloth to partially 
cover her. Her hands gripped him, but he pushed her to 
a chair and made her sit in it. He saw pencil and paper 
on a table nearby and wrote "I'll get help." on it.

She looked at the paper without reading it, still 
sobbing. Bobby shook her and pointed at the note. She 
brought it close to her face.

"Noooo, don't leave meeee!!" she wailed.

Bobby looked at the man. He had the look of the dead. 
Bobby had seen death before, on more than one occasion. 
Back where he had come from men ended up in alleys 
looking like this man looked. He went to the man as 
Miss Templeton's eyes followed and he kicked the body, 
which rocked and settled again. His intent was to show 
Miss Templeton that the man was no threat to her. Then 
he went back to her and pointed at the note again.

The door was still open when he turned to it, and her 
cries for him not to leave her were still calling out 
to him as he closed it behind him. He ran back to the 
saloon, and through the kitchen door. The fat woman was 
still there, but she only had time to take a breath to 
yell at him and he was already through the double doors 
into the dining room. The Constable had just stood up 
and was putting on his coat, his cigar clamped in his 
jaws.

Bobby went to the man and grabbed his arm, pulling.

"What?!" the man growled, jerking his arm. "What are 
you up to now, boy?"

Another man at the table spoke up.

"He cain't talk Homer. He's one of Mavis' brood."

Bobby jerked again, harder, making it obvious that he 
wanted the constable to come with him.

"Well let's just go see what kind of trouble you found 
boy," said the man.

Four men followed the constable out into the back of 
the saloon as Bobby pulled him. They moved as a gaggle 
toward Miss Templeton's house, one of them announcing 
that that's who lived there. When they got to the front 
door Bobby reached for the knob and a hand closed over 
his wrist.

"Is she in trouble boy?" asked the constable, his voice 
low.

Bobby nodded and the man reached beneath his coat and 
pulled out a huge revolver. He pushed Bobby to one side 
and opened the door. He only had to take one step to be 
able to see the whole house, for all intents and 
purposes. His eyes swept first to the body on the 
floor, and then to the source of sobs in the chair. Her 
condition, and the knife on the floor made it obvious 
what had happened.

"Jules, check that man." he ordered tersely, as he 
stepped toward the young woman in the chair.

"It's all right miss." he said in a surprisingly soft 
voice. "It's all over now. What happened here?" Her 
dress was hanging open in the front, and he couldn't 
keep himself from noticing her lush body either.

Rachel, between sobs, told of the man coming into the 
house and threatening her with the knife. She told how 
he'd ripped her dress, and told her that she'd be glad 
when he was finished. She'd fought and he'd threatened 
to kill her. Then Bobby was there. She looked around at 
the men, who were all staring at her. 

"Bobby was here," she said. "Where's Bobby?" She lunged 
up out of the chair and gripped the constable's coat 
lapels. "WHERE'S BOBBY?" she screamed. She couldn't 
remember what he'd done, or if the man had stabbed him 
or not. "He saved meeee." she cried.

"There, there, he's fine. He's outside," said the 
constable. "You're bleeding missy. We need to get the 
doctor to take a look at you." He patted her head like 
she was a dog. "Missy, I have to ask this. I know it's 
hard, but I have to ask. Did he have his way with you?"

Rachel's head came up and her eyes cleared. "NO!" she 
said. "Bobby saved me. Where's Bobbeeeeeee!" she 
started crying again.

"He's dead, Homer," said the man who was kneeling 
beside the rapist. "Kid must have hit him with the 
board. Had a nail sticking out the end. Punched clean 
through his skull. Fell where he stood, more'n likely."

"Well SHIT!" snarled Homer.

Rachel flinched and leaned away from him.

"Sorry ma'am," he muttered. "Him bein' dead kind of 
complicates things." 

He stood up and looked at one of the other men. 
"Jasper, get on over to Mavis' house and fetch doc. 
Since this boy is the one that come and got him, I 
s'pect that's where he is. Tell 'im I got a dead body 
and a mostly raped woman, and I need 'im over here. Get 
there Pronto, Jasper." 

The man took off running and bumped into Bobby, who was 
shifting from foot to foot in the doorway. Homer leaned 
out and grabbed him.

"Don't you go nowhere, son. We got us a mess here, and 
you're neck deep in it." He pulled him into the room.

As soon as Rachel saw Bobby she leapt up out of the 
chair, her dress flopping open and she rushed to hug 
Bobby, again gripping him so hard he couldn't get away. 
The men looked at Bobby with a mixture of emotions on 
their faces. They'd seen what she was pressing against 
him too. Some of them felt ashamed at feeling lust for 
a raped, or almost raped woman, but later on they'd 
shake their heads and talk about what a fine figure of 
a woman she was. Most of them had wished they could see 
that body... even if it wasn't like this. And there it 
was, pressed up against a dumb orphan kid.

The constable gave up trying to separate Rachel from 
Bobby and spoke to the man nearest him. "Kenny, your 
place isn't far. Why don't you go see if Eunice will 
come over here and sit with Miss Templeton." He spoke 
next to Jules again. "See if she's got some more 
dresses or something she can put on." He turned to the 
last man. "Tom, I guess that leaves it up to you to go 
get Blaine Coggs." Blaine was the town undertaker.

Homer went over to the dead man and rolled him over to 
check for himself. He made a sound. "Know this feller. 
Throwed him out of the saloon earlier tonight for 
causing trouble. He was drinkin' hard and had no money 
to pay. Should'a throw'd him in jail."

Kenny got back first, and came in to announce that 
Eunice was on her way. Eunice got there right on his 
heels, and had two more women in tow. They shooed the 
men out into the snow and gathered around Rachel to do 
what only women could do for her just then. They had to 
pry Rachel's arms from around Bobby. When they told him 
to leave too, Rachel's sobs and pleas for him not to go 
were so pitiful that finally Eunice relented.

"You stand over there, and turn your back." she 
ordered. Bobby did so, wondering where all this would 
end up. 

The women had just gotten Rachel into another dress 
when there was a thump on the door and Doctor Johansen 
called out. He was let in, and Mavis charged in right 
behind him. She saw Bobby and rushed over to him.

"Are you all right baby?" she asked anxiously. "They 
said there'd been a killing and that you were involved! 
Bobby what's going on?" 

Bobby was tempted to just tell her and be done with it. 
Life was getting way too complicated for the teenager. 
But just then Homer called in, asking if he could come 
in. Since none of the women in the room knew what 
actually happened, he was welcome, as long as he 
answered questions. The doctor did a cursory 
examination of Rachel and pronounced that the throat 
wound was minor and would take care of itself. He was 
more concerned about Rachel's mental state. 

The women conferred and announced that Rachel would be 
going with them, and that they'd take care of her at 
Eunice's house until she recovered. Kenny looked 
pleased, until his wife caught him looking pleased. She 
knew he'd been in this room before she got there, 
because he'd described the scene to her. And she knew 
how poor Rachel Templeton had been dressed, so she knew 
what her husband had seen that he HADN'T described. 

She faced her smirking husband. "Kenny Holland, don't 
you be thinking you're sleeping in our bed tonight. You 
just go on over to the hotel and get yourself a room. 
I'll send word when you can come back home."

He tried to resist. "Now Eunice, don't be that way. Why 
can't SHE get a hotel room?" There were groans from two 
of the other men, who were looking in through the open 
doorway, and Homer shook his head sadly. He grabbed 
Kenny's arm and pulled him to the door before Eunice 
could go looking for something to hit him with. As he 
was led out Kenny kept complaining. "What in tarnation 
did I do? I HELPED for pity's sake! And it's ME that 
has to find someplace to sleep?"

The doctor went to the man on the floor and leaned 
down. He pronounced the man dead and then stood up. 
"Nothing more I can do here. I still got an injured boy 
to finish tending to, if this town can settle down for 
an hour. Homer? I got to stitch the boy up. Try to keep 
a lid on things for a while, all right?"

Mavis faced Homer. "I'm taking Bobby home." she said 
firmly. "And don't you argue with me Homer. You and I 
both know that man needed killing, and Bobby didn't 
mean to do that anyway. He was just trying to protect 
his teacher."

Homer raised a hand. "Mavis, you know I'll have to ask 
some questions. Just don't let him wander off somewhere 
hard to find."

She sniffed and tugged on Bobby's coat sleeve. "Come 
along Bobby. It's past your bedtime."

Homer shook his head, watching them go and turned to 
Jules, the only one left in the room. "Boy just killed 
a man, and probably saved a woman's life... and he's 
got a bedtime. If that don't beat all."

Back home, Bobby was sent to bed on his own, while 
attention turned back to Terrence. Mavis had had to 
dose Terrence with whisky to sedate him enough so that 
the doctor could sew up his hand. Terrence fought the 
drink, spitting it out, until Doctor Johansen had taken 
one stitch without any anesthetic. 

Then he had drunk what he was told to drink. For a 
child that small, it had only taken three ounces and he 
was out like a light. It had taken over forty stitches 
to put the hand back together, and the Doctor still 
wasn't sure he'd have the full use of his fingers when 
it healed. It was the wee hours of the morning before 
any of the adults got to bed.

School was cancelled the next day, of course. Mavis 
didn't want people to think that either she or Bobby 
were hiding or embarrassed so, despite her late night, 
she got up and took Bobby to do the grocery shopping. 
Word had indeed spread all over town. No one had been 
killed by violence in Hampstead for thirty years or 
more, and it was all anyone could talk about. Most 
people, once the dead felon was identified as a 
stranger, who had probably ridden the rails into town 
and likely would have made his escape the same way, 
decided that justice had been done. 

People weren't quite sure whether or not Rachel still 
had her virtue or not, and that caused some arguments. 
One group of five women banded together and held out 
that, if she were truly soiled by the man, even though 
it wasn't her fault, the town couldn't very well retain 
her as the school teacher. That group also concluded 
that the town needed no vigilantes running around 
loose, and that Bobby would have to go too. 

Various people suggested that if, in the future, any 
daughters of these five women were heard to be 
screaming, or seen to be suffering rape, it would just 
be assumed they were trollops who needed no interfering 
do-gooders bothering them. 

Several fistfights almost broke out. 

Once Rachel came out into public, though, all that 
changed. The left side of her face was swollen 
grotesquely and was the color of mixed hues of black, 
blue, purple and yellow. She had difficulty speaking 
clearly. She had obviously been beaten severely, and it 
made people ill to look at her. She had recovered her 
equilibrium, though, after spending 48 hours in the 
care of good and nurturing women. 

She had also heard about the five women who wanted to 
run Bobby out of town, and it was for that reason that 
she appeared in public, disfigured as she was. She 
sought out each of the five women. She faced each one 
of them down and offered to let the woman examine her 
maidenhood herself to determine its status. When each 
one of the women refused, Rachel suggested that they 
close their mouths and keep their opinions to 
themselves, turned and walked out.

In the end, Rachel was considered a heroine by most, 
though she'd be hated by those five women for the rest 
of her life. Three of them left town after the war, 
tired of the grief they got over that incident. 
Rachel's telling of the story, and how, had it not been 
for Bobby, she'd have been both raped and killed, also 
turned him into a local celebrity.

Rachel wanted to start school up again after three 
days, but several people convinced her to let her face 
heal more before the children saw her. She looked in a 
mirror and had to agree that the smaller children would 
be shocked and frightened.

During the three days school was out, Bobby was a 
celebrity, not only in town, but at home too. Donations 
of clothing came in, the result of Homer's description 
of what the boy was wearing when he was interviewed 
about the incident. Mavis had been there with him, 
while he wrote out his description of events The only 
detriment to Bobby was that everyone's estimation of 
his intelligence rose significantly. 

He was no longer considered to be simple minded. Homer 
also saw several of the carvings Bobby had been doing 
on the long winter evenings as he sat, listening to the 
radio. June Bug and Emily didn't much care for the 
radio shows, and played on the floor then. When Meg 
read, though, Bobby couldn't carve, because his lap was 
full of little girls.

Only Mavis had said anything to him about how everybody 
had underestimated him. She had seen and read what he 
wrote for the constable. On the way back to the house 
she looked at him out of the side of her eye.

"You're a lot smarter than you let on, aren't you?" she 
asked casually.

Bobby looked over at her, but couldn't hold her eyes. 
He wasn't ashamed of what he had done... not in the way 
you or I might feel shame at doing something sneaky. 
He'd had a hard life, and getting what he could out of 
a given situation was just something he had always 
done. But these women had been good to him, and he knew 
that. He also knew that Mavis still didn't know just 
how much of a trick he had been playing. Acting simple-
minded was only the tip of the iceberg, as it were.

He looked back in her eyes, which were still staring at 
him, and nodded.

Mavis smiled and put her arm over his shoulder, pulling 
him against her. "I suppose somebody who's gone through 
what you've gone through can't be blamed for taking 
what advantage can be found. You're a good boy Bobby. I 
know you've got a good heart."

They walked on a bit further and Mavis spoke again. 
"About Meg..." She looked over at the boy who acted so 
much like a man and stopped. When he looked at her 
there was something almost like fear in his eyes. It 
troubled her, but she couldn't put her finger on why.

"Never mind," she said. "Homer thinks you could sell 
your carvings." she said, changing the subject 
radically.

 Bobby, glad the subject had changed from Meg, raised 
an eyebrow.

"Indeed" she said nodding. "He thinks you could sell 
them at the Dry Goods store. They're really beautiful 
Bobby. I'd like to have one myself."

Bobby had completed three more carvings, all of dogs. 
He was working on a horse, but wasn't happy with it. He 
hadn't seen many horses up close, and was using a 
picture in a book as his model. Wood had been a problem 
at first. When Mavis had seen him trying to carve on 
one of the pieces of wood he'd sneaked back out of 
Patrick's closet after "killing the Umpelty Oog" she 
recognized that it was poor quality wood. She took 
Bobby to the attic, where some old furniture had been 
stored. One table had a broken leg and she had picked 
up that leg and handed it to Bobby, telling him it was 
walnut. It was hard to carve, but the results were, 
indeed, beautiful. He'd used about a third of the table 
leg to make the carvings Homer had seen.

Having nothing else to say, Mavis finished the walk 
home without talking further.

Two days later Parson Jenkins visited Milleson House, 
his arms full of donations for Bobby. At the bottom of 
the pile were two sheets of sandpaper. "The constable 
asked me to give you these." he said simply, handing 
them to Bobby. Bobby had looked at the paper dubiously, 
and the Parson then explained what it was for. Bobby 
had lit up and ran to get one of his finished pieces. 
He'd smoothed it as best he could with the edge of the 
knife. The sandpaper made what was already beautiful a 
work of art.

Being intelligent, he just assumed that, after the 
incident, bath time would change. He was sure he'd 
milked it for everything it was capable of providing. 
Now that the women all thought of him as just quiet, he 
assumed they'd also assume he could bathe himself.

It did change, but not in the way he had thought it 
might.

The next bath night things went as usual, with Meg 
reading while the smaller children got their baths in 
shifts. On this particular night June Bug went first, 
and Emily second. When the last shift was out and 
dressed and Meg had closed the book, she stood up and 
stretched backwards, her hands on her slim waist.

"Sally?" she called out. "My back is sore tonight. I 
don't know if I could do all that bending over in the 
bathroom. I'll put the little ones to bed if you'll 
take care of Bobby. Would that be all right?"

Bobby sensed something disingenuous in her comment. His 
finely honed sense of survival recognized falsehoods 
many more times than not. But he didn't know why Meg 
would want to avoid their play. She had obviously liked 
what had happened between them. He didn't understand 
women at all most of the time, with a few exceptions. 
So he just sat and waited for something to happen.

"Surely Meg" said Sally. "I guess that would be fine."

Mavis looked like she was about to speak, but then went 
back to dressing Terrence, who had trouble due to the 
big wad of bandages on his injured hand.

"Come on Bobby," said Sally, and held out her hand.

Bobby got up and, as he followed her into the bathroom, 
remembered her kiss, his reward for killing the Umpelty 
Oog. He began to suspect that this was no accident, and 
for some reason that made him feel good.

When Sally closed the door, however, she looked pale 
and nervous. She didn't fill the tub, as Meg always 
did. Bobby, by habit, just stood there.

"I don't know what to do." she said, as if she were 
talking to someone else, or perhaps herself. She wasn't 
talking about the bath part of why she was in this 
room, but, of course, Bobby didn't know that.

Bobby took her hand and led her to the hot water tap. 
She tittered nervously and relaxed a little bit, 
turning her head to look at Bobby.

"I know what you and Meg do in here," she said. Bobby 
tensed up. "She told me about it." she went on. Bobby 
relaxed again.

She didn't seem upset to Bobby, and he decided to just 
simply act normal. That had worked for him in the past. 
Sally finally started filling the tub with hot water. 
He started unbuttoning his shirt. Sally turned to watch 
him, her eyes going wider, but she didn't move away 
from him. He wasn't hard, and when he dropped his pants 
and stepped out of them, and then removed his drawers, 
Sally looked almost unhappy as she stared at his 
manhood. She had forgotten the water, and Bobby reached 
past her to shut it off before there was no room to add 
cold to it. Sally blushed and moved.

"Whatever is wrong with me?" she said, again to 
herself. "I'm a grown woman." she said firmly. She 
turned to Bobby. "Just how much help do you really 
need?" she asked. When he made no sign she asked "Do 
you need any help at all?"

Bobby knew he couldn't lie to this woman. She was too 
intelligent for one thing - she read as well as Meg 
did, though not with the emotion of voice. And she 
claimed to know what he and Meg had done, yet came with 
him anyway.

He shook his head.

"But you want me to help... don't you?" she asked. Her 
natural fear of rejection had bubbled up to the surface 
of her thoughts. She didn't know what she'd do of Bobby 
rejected her too.

Bobby smiled and nodded.

Sally felt a rush of relief that made it suddenly hard 
to breathe. She felt her nipples tingle at that smile. 
She too thought he had the most beautiful dark eyes and 
welcoming smile she'd ever seen.

Bobby stepped into the tub and sat down slowly, because 
the water was hotter than usual. He made a sighing 
sound and leaned back, closing his eyes. Then he opened 
them, sat forward, reached for the sweet smelling soap, 
handed it to Sally, and then leaned back to close his 
eyes again.

She knelt by the tub, rubbing the soap all over his 
chest. He had a little more muscle there now and she 
liked the feel of the swells and dips of his chest. 
Knowing how sensitive her own nipples were, she washed 
over his several times. She was about to nervously take 
the plunge of rubbing lower when he sat forward, 
leaning over to expose his back. Her eyes took in his 
scars, and her reaction was much the same as Meg's. She 
touched him tenderly there, at first, but it was clear 
he had no residual pain.

Then he stood up, and turned to face her. He was still 
soft. Since he and Sally had never done anything he 
didn't know what to expect, and his emotions were still 
fairly sedate.

"Should I wash you... there?" asked Sally, her hand 
rising toward his penis.

He nodded.

"I've never done this Bobby," she said.

Bobby leaned over and kissed her, his lips soft. She 
rose into that kiss as his tongue tip wormed its way 
between her lips. Her own tongue responded and again 
she was breathless at the pleasure that streaked 
through her. She could feel that he really WANTED to 
kiss her... that she was attractive to him in some way. 

Part of her couldn't believe that, but his lips on hers 
made it clear, beyond doubt, that he wanted her to kiss 
him back. She did, pressing herself against him as much 
as possible with the edge of the tub in the way. She 
knew she was getting her dress damp, from the drops of 
water still on his body, and remembered seeing Meg, 
with water spots on the front of her dress. Meg had 
taken her dress off for this boy... had let him touch 
her body.

Sally pushed away, as the emotion of contemplating 
being naked with him overcame her. It was too foreign. 
She thought of the other things Meg had done. She could 
do that, she thought. Her hand reached for his penis 
and she was shocked to find it longer and much more 
firm. She looked down and saw that her hand had felt 
truly. Her hand gripped him, but didn't move until he 
reached and moved it for her.

She learned the rhythm quickly, and could tell by his 
face when she was doing it the way he liked. Her 
nipples tingled again and she thought back to a time, 
over a year gone now when they had gotten a baby whose 
mother had died in childbirth. The father was off at 
war. They had to bottle feed the baby, which was going 
to be collected by relatives from California, but it 
would take a week for them to arrive. Sally had the 
first night feeding, and the baby was hungry, but 
didn't want the rubber nipple it was offered. 

Its piteous cries In the night had stabbed deep into 
Sally's heart and, in desperation, she had offered it 
one of her own nipples. It quieted immediately as its 
first sucks made her nipple extend. She had so little 
breast flesh that she could pass for a man if she 
tried. Her hips could give her away, or her nipples, if 
they got erect. 

The baby had sucked and, when the sensations were so 
strong that they almost made her faint, Sally had 
pulled that baby off that nipple, which had extended to 
almost an inch. It looked deformed to her in the dim 
light of the bedroom. She had been able to get the baby 
to take the bottle eventually, but had to offer it a 
real nipple three more times before it went back to 
sleep.

Sally let go of Bobby's penis and stepped back. "I 
can't get wet with you." she whispered. Her fingers 
flew to the buttons of her dress and she pulled it 
apart with no sense of shame at all, baring her flat 
chest and letting the dress drop to the floor around 
her feet. Her passion had overcome her self image. Her 
pubic hair was so sparse that it was hard to see, but 
Bobby easily saw thick, plump lips between her legs 
that he suddenly thought might be nice to kiss, like 
the lips on her face. Then she stepped forward, out of 
her dress and took his prick in her hand again.

She pinched a nipple, which had already begun to swell 
and elongate as she stroked Bobby. 

"Could you suck me?" she whispered. "Right here?" she 
pulled at the nipple.

Bobby leaned over and sucked the growing nubbin into 
his mouth. Sally moaned, her hand clasping his prick 
tighter and jerking spasmodically, rather than in time. 
Bobby felt the flesh in his mouth get bigger and more 
firm, until it was almost like sucking the tip of his 
little finger.

Sally wavered, her head spinning at the streaks of joy 
that shot through her due to his suckling action. Her 
hand came and cradled the back of his head, her fingers 
sliding through his long hair as she told him how much 
she loved what he was doing.

Her orgasm frightened her, because she'd never had one 
and didn't have any idea how strong those feelings 
could be. First she couldn't breathe. Then her knees 
sagged and she had to grab the edge of the tub to 
support herself. Her whole body froze. She couldn't 
breathe, her hand stopped moving on Bobby, and her 
knees bent and then locked. She felt the pleasure 
streak to the area between her legs and she suddenly 
wanted to touch herself there, but couldn't without 
falling down.

"Uhhhhhhh!" she groaned in a long sigh as the feeling 
receded enough that she could move again. Her knees 
failed and she sank to rest on them, her face right in 
front of her hand, and the tip of Bobby's penis. When 
Meg had described putting her mouth on him Sally had 
shuddered, thinking that was crazy. Now she looked at 
the organ and knew it had to be as good as Meg had 
said.

She leaned forward to let it slide between her lips.

She had to move her hand to get as much in her mouth as 
she wanted, and Bobby groaned. Her whole body felt hot, 
like it was next to a huge red-hot stove, as she knew 
from the sound that she was pleasing the man who had 
pleased her so much. He cheeks caved in as she sucked 
hungrily. She tasted something, and, as her mouth 
evaluated that taste, she knew it was the taste that 
Meg had talked about. It was a mixture of a hint of 
bitter, with a stronger hint of sweet, and another 
sensation she couldn't identify. 

She knew he liked to be stroked, and since she couldn't 
move her hand, she moved her mouth instead, sliding 
almost off, to suck just the round knob and then back 
down. Bobby groaned again and she got more of that 
taste. His hands slid through her hair and he helped 
her move, not grabbing tightly, but with a feather 
light pressure.

Then he groaned again and suddenly her mouth was 
overflowing with the taste... his taste. She wanted to 
laugh as she thought of a time she had taken as big a 
bite of pudding into her mouth as she could get on the 
spoon. The pudding had flowed all over her mouth in an 
explosion of flavor, and now his juice did the same 
thing. She swallowed gratefully, liking the taste now, 
like Meg did, and wanting it to go on. 

She sucked harder and moved her mouth on him again, 
milking the thick fluid out of him until there was no 
more. His penis wilted quickly, and she felt sad 
somehow that it was over so quickly as she pulled her 
mouth off of him and swallowed the last dregs that 
still coated her mouth.

Bobby wanted to hug her... to feel her naked skin 
against his, and he started to step out of the tub.

Still on her knees, Sally giggled. "No, silly," she 
said. "You're still all soapy." 

To Bobby's disappointment, she pushed him back down 
into the water and then stepped back into her dress and 
pulled it up to cover her. Then she washed him 
properly, doing his hair and talking to him, telling 
him how much she had liked tasting him, and how 
wonderful his mouth had felt on her. 

When she was done, and he stood back up he was stiff 
again. 

Sally laughed a high tinkling laugh of delight. He 
wasn't quite as hard as he had been before, but Sally 
didn't care. She got to her knees again and happily 
sucked until she got another mouthful of pudding. 

When he was dried off she hugged him then, and kissed 
his lips, wanting another of those delicious kisses. 
Then she checked her hair in the mirror and, taking his 
hand, led him out into the dining room.

Mavis was doing more of her endless needlework, mending 
a pair of pants that had somehow gotten the knee torn. 
Meg had put the children to bed with Donna and 
Prudence's help. Normally the latter two would have 
buttoned up their coats and gone home by now, but for 
some reason they all found cause to sit around the 
table. 

Their conversation would have sounded normal to an 
outsider, but to Mavis it was obviously forced, as they 
found things to say that didn't need saying, and talked 
about things they could have talked about on the 
morrow. Meg had gotten Bobby's night shirt from his 
room while she was upstairs, and had draped it over a 
chair back. Mavis's keen eyes saw Meg's glance dart to 
the bathroom door more than once as she talked about a 
new recipe she had gotten from the storekeeper's wife.

Again, Mavis was about to speak of her suspicions, but 
as she drew breath, the bathroom door opened and all 
conversation stopped. Mavis almost laughed out loud. 
She looked at Sally, whose face had a luster that was 
usually lacking. She wasn't smiling, exactly, but she 
looked lighthearted in a way that was alien to her 
usual demeanor.

"You look like you just got some mighty good news." 
Mavis remarked, her eyes going back to her work.

Had she been watching, she'd have seen Sally blush. She 
took the time to dart a glance at Bobby's penis. It 
looked darker than the last time she'd seen it. HE was 
smiling. It wasn't a grin, but it spoke volumes to 
Mavis. Meg stood up and picked up his night shirt. He 
raised his arms as she slid it up them and over his 
head. It all looked so normal... almost. But Meg's 
fingers lingered on his shoulders, and slid to his 
chest to grab the material and pull it down. She was 
smiling too... at Bobby.

Mavis almost laughed again as all four women hugged the 
boy good night. They were so transparent. She'd have to 
do something soon, before things got completely out of 
hand... if they hadn't already. She was surprised when 
he came to her and bent to kiss her on the cheek. She 
was also surprised at how that made her feel. It was 
just a simple kiss, but it was so loving that it made 
her want to wiggle in her chair.

"Good night Bobby," she said. He smiled. She realized 
she could get lost in those eyes.

Both Meg and Sally took him upstairs to his room, while 
Donna and Prudence decided suddenly it was time to go.

Yes, she was going to have to do something... and do it 
soon.



CHAPTER SEVEN


The swelling in Rachel's face went down considerably, 
but the color was slow to fade. She decided that school 
had to go on, despite the condition of her face. It had 
been four days since the attack, and she was going 
crazy trying to find some way to be useful to the 
people who had helped her. 

When Meg and Sally got the children to school, and they 
saw Rachel's face, they were aghast. They'd heard all 
about the incident, of course, but had not seen the 
woman. Her face was still a sickly yellow and purple 
color on the left side, while the right side of her 
face looked almost normal. Her lips were still split 
and swollen where her intended rapist had struck her, 
and the wound from the knife on her throat was clearly 
visible.

"Would you like us to stay for a while?" asked Meg 
impulsively. "To help?"

Rachel looked at her, assessing her as a woman, and as 
a person from town, and, for the first time, as a 
potential friend. Rachel didn't have many friends... 
hadn't tried to make any really. Now, though, with the 
outpouring of care from women whose names she hadn't 
even known before the incident, her attitude about 
other women had changed. Her brush with death had made 
both subtle and not-so-subtle changes in her outlook on 
life. She had done some serious thinking once she could 
martial thoughts at all. 

The four women who had taken her from her house had 
mothered her like hens, even trying to spoon feed her. 
Their obvious concern pulled her mind back to sanity 
and then overrode what would have been her normal 
irritation at having to rely on others. She had felt 
safe with them as they drew her life story from her, 
sometimes against her will, but in a way that made her 
glad that now, at least, somebody in this town knew 
something about her and accepted her as... as what? She 
had thought about that too, and the realization that 
those four women would be content calling her their 
friend had cut through her tough exterior like the 
knife that she had known would take her life.

Their chatter had soothed her in ways that nothing else 
would have. Eventually she had been able to appreciate 
their outlook on life, here in this harsh place. One 
woman, when she had been giving Rachel a sponge bath 
had sighed and said "I'd just kill to have a body like 
yours. Then maybe Herb would look at me like he looks 
at you."

That had led to a very frank discussion of men, and 
their faults, and Rachel found out just how valuable a 
good reputation was. The women didn't blame her at all 
for being beautiful, or for the fact that every man in 
town - at least according to them - had been seen 
raking their eyes over her body while she walked, or 
shopped. They blamed the men for having wandering eyes 
and talked about other beautiful women who did NOT have 
the sterling reputation that Rachel had.

And now, here was another woman who seemed to care 
about her for some reason. And she knew this woman to 
be single. She was good looking too, in a frontier sort 
of way. Rachel chided herself for that 
characterization. That was what the old Rachel would 
have thought. Now she looked at the young woman and 
admitted that, anywhere in the world men would 
notice... she didn't even know her name!

"I'm sorry," said Rachel thickly. "I know I should 
remember your name."

"Meg" said the woman. 

"And I'm Sally," said the other one.

"Could you read to some while I work on math with the 
others?" she asked, worried that she might embarrass 
them. It was still possible these days that people were 
illiterate.

"I love to read," said Meg, smiling.

"And I can do whatever," added Sally.

There was a mild rebellion involving some of the older 
Milleson children when they found out Meg was going to 
read, while they were expected to work on their 
numbers. 

"I read to them at home," said Meg, shrugging her 
shoulders.

Then all the children wanted to know what had happened 
to their teacher. They stared at her face with the 
unbridled curiosity of children.

Rachel raised her hands for quiet.

"A bad man wanted to hurt me. He DID hurt my face," she 
said. "But Bobby saved me and made the man stop hurting 
me."

All the children's eyes went to Bobby, who had been 
standing silently in the background, watching the women 
talk.

"Really!?" asked Patrick, his voice awed. "He killed 
the Umpelty Oog when it was in the closet!" he said 
excitedly. "And then he ATE it!" Patrick stuck out his 
chest like he was the one who had done everything.

Rachel looked at Meg and mouthed "Umpelty Oog?"

Meg mouthed back, "Imaginary monster."

Rachel smiled and then winced as her lip cracked open 
again. "Well, Bobby is my hero." she said firmly. "I'm 
not surprised he does nice things for other people too. 
Now, we have learning to do!"

She hustled around, separating the groups and waving at 
the book shelf, which had only a dozen worn volumes on 
it. Meg looked at them and picked one to read from.

By the time any of them noticed it, the morning had 
passed and it was time to adjourn school.

"Oh my" said Sally. "Mavis will be having fits over us 
being gone so long."

Meg nodded and then looked at Rachel. "Will you be 
keeping Bobby late today?"

Rachel shook her head. "I'm tired, and the doctor has 
ordered me in no uncertain terms to rest in the 
afternoons. It will be a week or so before I can spend 
extra time with him."

When the children were all bundled up and ready to 
leave, Rachel touched Meg's arm.

"Thank you. I mean that. It was nice of you to stay. I 
know you can't do that often, but I'm really glad I got 
to meet you. You too Sally. I'm sorry we never got to 
spend any time together before this."

Meg smiled. "Well, it was just the neighborly thing to 
do, that's all. But you're welcome."

Mavis wasn't actually having fits at the absence of her 
employees. She rarely got any time to herself. There 
were always children or other women around, for the 
most part. She didn't worry about her employees. She 
did wonder where they'd gotten to, but spent the time 
writing a letter to her sister that she'd put off for a 
month. It needed to be a long letter to tell all the 
news, and she was, in the end, grateful that she'd been 
able to get it done.

Sally tried to take the brunt of the blame when the 
children all piled into the parlor and began taking 
their coats off.

"We stayed to help Rachel," she said. Taking Meg's 
line, she added "It seemed like the neighborly thing to 
do."

"Well, considering what happened, I suppose it was." 
admitted Mavis. "Don't make it a habit, though. There's 
things around here that need doing."

"She's nice," said Meg. "Nicer than I thought."

"Is she now?" said Mavis. "Actually it was kind of nice 
around here... quiet for once. I just wish I'd have 
known. I'd have had a nice long soak in that tub you 
all love so much."

Neither woman took the bait, though, and Mavis, once 
again, let it drop.

About an hour later though, Meg stopped beside Mavis, 
on her way to do laundry. "You know, if we helped out 
at school say, one day a week? You could have that nice 
long soak."

Mavis snorted. But then she said "I guess I could at 
that."

That night, as they listened to the radio, Bobby pulled 
out the table leg and began carving on the end of it. 
It was shorter than it had been in the beginning, but 
still looked a little awkward, and Mavis decided to go 
visit the cabinetmaker's shop down on Broadway.

The next day, while the children were in school, she 
did just that, taking Bobby's table leg with her, with 
its half finished carving on the end. Sher also took 
two of his finished carvings, which were set high on a 
shelf to keep them away from the children. 

"Good work," said the man, examining the face of a 
German Shepherd, its ears stiff and raised, as if it 
heard something. "No need to ruin good furniture. I got 
lots of scraps laying around. I'd be glad to be rid of 
them. You say it's that boy who done this? The one what 
saved that girl from the rapist?"

Mavis went home with a gunny sack filled with chunks of 
cherry, walnut, pecan and mahogany. When she dumped out 
the sack for Bobby that afternoon she found more 
sandpaper too and a roll of oilpaper that had various 
chisels inside it. A small wooden mallet was rolled up 
with them. There was also a disk shaped carving, that 
looked a little like a sunburst with a face in the 
center. 

The cabinetmaker had said it was designed to go on a 
tall chest of drawers, with fancy woodwork framing a 
mirror on top. The disk, he said, would be attached 
above the mirror. He had suggested that Bobby attempt 
to reproduce it. The tools, he said, could be returned 
at some unspecified time in the future.

Bobby, when he came in from school, picked up the tools 
and examined them. Then he looked at the sunburst 
carving which, he noticed, had a crack running through 
it that had ruined it. He found a board end that was 
about the right size, put it on his lap, and started 
removing slivers of wood with the tools. As Mavis 
watched him, she realized that with the board on his 
lap, it was more difficult than if were on a more solid 
base. 

She motioned to Prudence and they went up to the attic 
and brought down an old stained and scratched Queen 
Anne end table that a chair could be drawn up to and 
one's legs put under. Once a couple of thin strips of 
wood had been fastened to two sides of the top, it 
provided a place where Bobby's scrap of wood could be 
laid and stabilized as he pushed or tapped a chisel. 
The work went faster and was cleaner after that.

It only took Bobby four hours to make the reproduction. 
It was rougher than the original, the lines not as 
straight, and the face not as crisp, but the women 
thought it was gorgeous.

***

On Wednesday, Bobby somehow got coal dust all over his 
face and hands when he did his chores. He'd never had 
that problem before. His shirt was black as well. He 
didn't seem to notice, and sat at his table to try 
smoothing the sunburst face he had carved. Mavis walked 
by and saw the condition he was in.

"What in the world happened to you?" she asked. "I hope 
you don't think you're coming to my table for supper 
looking like that. We're having a guest tonight. Meg 
invited your teacher to come for supper."

Bobby looked at his hands innocently. There was paper 
and pencil beside him. Paper and pencils lay all over 
the house now. He wrote the word "Bath?" on it.

Mavis looked at him shrewdly. "One of these days I'm 
going to have to find out just what goes on in there," 
she said. Bobby looked at her as innocently as he'd 
looked at his hands. She thought briefly about just 
taking him into the bathroom herself. But she had to 
get ready for supper.

"Prudence!" she called. Prudence looked up from the 
beef hindquarter she was butchering on the cutting 
table in the kitchen. 

"I'll finish that up. Bobby's gotten himself filthy and 
says he needs a bath. Since both Meg and Sally are in 
town, why don't you take care of it this time." 

Mavis almost laughed as Prudence lit up with a smile 
and immediately abandoned the meat that would be their 
supper for days to come.

Bobby had been thinking about Meg. He had dirtied 
himself with coal dust on purpose, knowing that Mavis 
would demand he clean up. His ploy to get a bath in the 
middle of the week had worked, but not quite as he had 
planned. On the other hand, Prudence's lush body was 
interesting too. The only two women Bobby had ever seen 
naked were Meg and Sally, and they were as different as 
night and day. He wondered if he might get to widen his 
available store of information with Prudence.

Prudence, as it turned out, had been thinking about her 
unfaithful soon-to-be ex-husband, over in Europe. She 
was tortured by visions of him and his no-doubt young 
tart, clasped together, making the beast with two 
backs... making a baby in her... instead of in 
Prudence, where it belonged. She had seen Bobby naked 
before, and it only made things worse. Or better. It 
depended on how she looked at it. Right now, she wanted 
to see him naked again.

Taking him in the bathroom she started the bath water 
while Bobby added coal to the heater. She turned to see 
him standing, his hands at his sides.

"Well, go on. You can't take a bath in your clothes. 
I've seen you unclothed before." She watched as he took 
his shirt off. He now had pants that fit him better, 
and removing his suspenders no longer made them drop as 
if they had stones in them. When he pushed them down 
and stepped out of his drawers, his penis was half hard 
and stuck out. It was much larger than when she'd seen 
it limp and satisfied before.

"Oh my." she said, her breathing increasing. "Has it 
ever done that when Meg or Sally was in here?" she 
asked.

Bobby nodded and stepped into the tub. He stepped back 
out quickly. The water was too hot.

"Oh dear me." she said, turning to mix some cold water 
in. "I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking." What 
she had been thinking was that if it looked like that 
half hard, she was going to do her best to see what it 
looked like fully erect. Prudence had her own 
suspicions about what went on at bath time. She too had 
seen Sally's glow when she finished bathing Bobby.

Bobby stepped back in, took the soap from the window 
sill and handed it to Prudence before sitting down.

"So they wash you?" she asked.

He nodded and splashed water all over himself, trying 
surreptitiously to get some on Prudence too. She was 
too far away though. She came closer and bent over to 
dip the soap in the water, and then placed it on his 
chest and moved it around. She worked on his arms, 
then, feeling his muscles moving under the skin. 
Whenever she looked at his face, he was staring back at 
her with his big, brown eyes. The water turned dark 
with washed off coal dust and she told him to close his 
eyes so she could do his face. Then she put the soap in 
his hand and cupped water in both of hers to pour over 
his face, rubbing it clean. Now was the part she had 
been waiting for.

"Stand up now Bobby," she said.

When he did she wasted no time soaping her hands and 
going straight for his penis. It lengthened in her 
hands and became rigid.

"On dear me," she said softly, feeling her gut clench. 
"Do the others wash you like this?"

Bobby smiled and nodded.

"And do you like this?" she asked.

He smiled wider and nodded with more enthusiasm.

She moaned, and her pace increased.

"Does anything ever... come out... of it?" she asked, 
blushing.

Bobby's smile got even wider as he nodded.

"Ohhhhhhhh!" she moaned.

Prudence was on fire. Her husband had been gone for two 
years, before which she was, unknown to her, a highly 
sexed woman. She had reveled in the things they did in 
the bedroom, feeling like she had been set free from 
the strictures of society's denial that she should have 
sexual feelings. And the sudden withdrawl of those 
pleasures had hit her hard. 

Then, after struggling through all that time of going 
without pleasure she loved, he told her he wasn't going 
without, but that she'd have to go without forever. In 
all the time he'd been gone, even after getting the 
letter in which he said he'd found another woman and 
wasn't coming back to her, she'd never considered 
cheating on him.

Until now.

But Prudence was older than Meg and Sally, if only by a 
few years. Her level of control, while strained, was 
based on the fact that Mavis was out on the other side 
of that door. Her mind whirled as, with a strong, young 
penis in her soapy hands, Prudence thought wildly about 
what she wanted to do with it. Perhaps, depending on 
how you, the reader, will evaluate things in the end, 
it was fortunate that while she thought, her hand 
assumed what, for her, was a natural stroking motion. 
Her mental state was intruded upon when Bobby's penis 
suddenly swelled in her hand.

Prudence, knowing what to expect, aimed it down, into 
the water.

They both let out a long sigh as thick streams of milky 
white spunk splashed into the water and Bobby bent his 
knees a little. Prudence watched in fascination as 
three and then four healthy spurts followed the first 
two. Her own knees sagged a little and the heat between 
her legs flared.

She let go of him and looked at her hand, as if it were 
someone else's and she couldn't believe it was somehow 
attached to her arm. she was just as surprised when 
that hand went back to the wilting phallus of her 
charge and milked the shrinking organ to ensure that 
all his sperm was out of it. 

Then she, in a very businesslike voice, said "All 
right. Now that that's taken care of, out of the tub 
and let's get you dried off."

Bobby, partly disappointed that things hadn't been as 
intense as they were with Meg and Sally, was non-the-
less happy that she had made him feel good, and he 
obeyed, standing quietly as she ran the towel all over 
him. Then, as the other two had, Prudence led him out 
of the bathroom naked. Since his clean clothes weren't 
lying in a pile of washing on the floor, she simply 
told him to go up to his room and get dressed.

Mavis had watched as the door to the bathroom opened 
and the two came out. Her eyes went immediately to 
Bobby's penis, which was flaccid and completely normal 
looking, though dark again. Then she examined Prudence, 
who looked normal as well.

"Everything go all right?" she asked innocently.

"Yes," said Prudence, distracted by what was going on 
under her calm outward appearance. "He does splash a 
lot, though." she said, just for something else to say. 
She looked around, like she wasn't quite sure where she 
was. "How long until supper?" she asked.

Mavis, who detected Prudence's scatterbrained 
undercurrent, and was intrigued by that, said "Oh, I 
don't know. Several hours I suppose. Why?"

Prudence, her speech just a little too fast to be 
normal, said "Oh, I was just thinking that I forgot all 
about the fact that the coal truck is coming to my 
house today. I guess all that coal dust I just washed 
off of him reminded me. I've let the bin get in a 
terrible state and need to clean it up."

All that was true. There was, in fact, a layer of coal 
dust in the basement of Prudence's little three room 
house. She noticed it whenever she tracked the dust 
upstairs as she refilled her own coal bucket, but 
normally just wiped her feet on a rag rug at the top of 
the stairs. Now, though, her lust-fogged mind thought 
about things a little differently.

She turned to Mavis. "Do you think it would be all 
right if Bobby came over and helped me get that cleaned 
up?

Mavis' sharp eyes examined her employee. The woman was 
tense. Bathing Bobby did... something... to all the 
women. "You just gave him a bath!"

Prudence's mind came back to the here and now. "Well... 
yes... of course. It's just that I forgot. I mean 
that's what reminded me." She looked disappointed 
somehow. "I suppose it will wait."

Mavis couldn't really tell what was going on in the 
auburn-haired woman's mind. But coal dust was something 
that was dangerous if left untended, and her maternal 
instincts took over. 

"No, you're right. That needs to be taken care of. 
We've been busy lately, what with extra mouths and all. 
And baths don't kill the boy. Go ahead and take him. 
Just make sure his hair is dry before you take him out 
in the cold. I don't want him getting sick.

The change in Pru's demeanor was startling. She smiled 
as if she had just gotten a new dress. Without another 
word she turned and went toward the stairs.

Prudence and Bobby came down shortly after that, Bobby 
dressed in clean clothes, and then Prudence got him 
dressed in his coat and hat. As they were leaving Sally 
came into the room.

"Where are they going?" she asked.

Pru has a chore at her house that Bobby's going to help 
her with," said Mavis.

"Oh, that's nice," said Sally.

Sally had no idea how "nice" that was... for both 
Prudence and Bobby. The trek through the snow was 
relatively easy, except that warmer temperatures, 
followed by more cold, had frozen the crust of the 
snow, and a pedestrian was momentarily supported by the 
stiff crust, only to fall through to the powdery snow 
underneath. When they got to the house Prudence, to her 
credit, did take Bobby down to the cellar and did, in 
fact, sweep up the coal dust that had settled from the 
last two deliveries of coal, that billowed the fine 
black particles into the air as it slid down the chute 
and into the bin. She had him do that job while an 
argument raged within her.

But that cleanup only took ten minutes. They filled a 
bucket and Bobby lugged it up the stairs to the main 
room, where the stove was. Prudence stood and looked at 
him.

"Bobby?" she said, looking at his buttocks through the 
tight cotton pants he was wearing, as he bent over to 
set the bucket down. He swiveled his head and looked up 
at her.

"Did you like what happened in the bathroom?" she asked 
nervously.

He smiled and nodded his head.

"And the others... they do that for you too?"

Bobby nodded again.

Prudence felt the heat, which had only dimmed a little 
since she saw his streams of semen splashing into the 
bath water, well up in her loins again.

"Bobby I need you to do something else for me." she 
said, feeling her control slipping. "Would you do that 
for me Bobby?"

A boy who talked would have simply said "Sure, what is 
it?" But, of course, Bobby didn't talk. He nodded the 
"Sure" but didn't ask the "What is it?"

Prudence took his hand and pulled him to her bedroom.

"Take off your clothes Bobby." she said, amazed that 
her voice didn't crack. She began to unbutton her own 
clothing.

Prudence, like many women of that era, wore panties, 
but nothing on her breasts under her dress. As a young 
woman she had worn corsets, but those were going out of 
vogue. The new brassieres that were available were too 
expensive, so she just went without. Her breasts were 
heavy and sagged to some degree, but they were firm and 
full too, with large, flat, brown nipples. 

She had never thought much about her nipples. They were 
there, for babies when they came. Her husband had 
mauled her breasts with his hands, which felt 
wonderful, but he had never used his mouth on her other 
than to kiss her with his tobacco and beer tinted 
breath. And he resisted touching her between her legs 
because he thought that was dirty. Still, the feel of 
his penis rutting in her lustily had been something she 
couldn't get enough of. She didn't always reach orgasm 
with him, but loved the feel of him in her anyway. 

She felt the cold as she took her dress off, and turned 
to fold back the covers on the bed. For what she wanted 
to do they'd want those covers over them for comfort.

Bobby, being an intelligent boy, recognized that 
something nice was going to happen. It wasn't a bath, 
but then, if he got to feel her skin against his, he 
didn't really care. He liked to look at the women when 
they were naked, and noticed all the differences 
between them. But he noticed the similarities too, and 
they all felt and tasted good. He saw Prudence's flat 
nipples and wondered it they'd get long and stiff like 
Sally's had when he sucked at them. Getting naked with 
a woman meant you got to do that, and he wanted to try 
that with Prudence.

So, when Prudence turned back around, she wasn't quite 
prepared for what Bobby did. In all truth, she didn't 
have a "plan". With her husband, things had always gone 
as he wanted them to go, and she just responded. Bobby 
suddenly leaned over to suck in her left nipple. It had 
begun to tighten in the cool air, but was still loose 
enough that he was able to suck in enough to swirl his 
tongue around.

Prudence experienced something new. It was not only 
new, it was devastating. She actually bent double, 
jerking the nipple out of his mouth and hitting his 
head with her own. Then she sat down on the edge of the 
bed, holding her head as Bobby knelt beside her, 
touching her hair with concern.

"I'm fine," she said. "I was just surprised." She 
reached up and touched the nipple he'd sucked. It still 
tingled. Then, making a decision that would change her 
life, she lay back the bed, shoving the covers over so 
she could make room for Bobby too.

"Do that some more." she whispered.

Two or three minutes later, Prudence was beside 
herself. When he suckled at her breasts, the exquisite 
pain/pleasure sensations she felt shot straight between 
her legs. Her hand slid inside her panties and she 
rubbed, spreading her legs. She was gasping for air 
when he stopped. He was sitting on the side of the bed, 
and had been pleasuring her for what seemed like hours, 
but was only a few minutes. 

She opened her eyes and they went to his groin, where 
his erection stuck up out of the brown hair there. His 
hand stroked her belly as he looked at her nearly nude 
body. What was in his eyes made Prudence want to scream 
with joy and she lifted her hips, shoving her panties 
down and off of one leg. They hung up at her other 
ankle, but she didn't care as she spread her legs.

"Touch me there Bobby!" she gasped, gripping his hand 
and pushing it between her legs.

He rubbed her with the flat of his hand, finding her 
slippery lips and liking the feel of the smooth skin 
below all that brown hair. Her hips jerked up off the 
bed and then fell back with a soft thump as her 
buttocks landed and she groaned. He experimented a 
little, rubbing this way, and that, and watching how 
she reacted. That was how he found the little bump 
between those slippery lips. When he touched that her 
hips bounded up off the bed again and she put her hand 
in her mouth to stifle a cry.

"Bobby... ohhh Bobby." she whispered, between filling 
her mouth with her hand. "Ohhh love me Bobby... 
pleeease love me."

The only way Bobby knew how to show love was to kiss 
her, and he crawled up to do that, pressing his lips to 
her and sliding his tongue into her mouth.

But Prudence knew how she wanted him to love her and 
she pulled on his stiff penis, until he crawled between 
her legs as she lay spread under him. His kisses were 
so sweet, and his breath so much nicer than what she 
remembered about her husband, that she didn't hesitate 
in the slightest, pulling his stiff prick to the 
opening of her sex. When it got there she pulled until 
she could feel the head part her pussy lips. Then, with 
both hands, she reached for his buttocks and in a 
surreal moment, as her fingers felt the scars on his 
cheeks, she pulled and thrust toward him with her hips.

He slid into her completely in one long lunge.

Now it was Bobby who felt something new. Meg, and then 
Sally, had used their mouths on him, and that felt hot, 
and wet and wonderful.

But this... this was beyond wonderful. "Hot" didn't 
quite describe what he felt. "Soft" wasn't a good 
enough word. She hadn't had a prick in her for two 
years and, though Bobby didn't know it, she was almost 
as tight as a virgin. The sensations that surrounded 
his penis... the firm pressure on every square inch of 
that sensitive organ... the way her cervical lips 
kissed and then surrounded the tip of his prick when 
his hairs meshed with hers... and the groan of sexual 
satisfaction as she was penetrated fully and 
completely... all those things were new to Bobby.

His mind, surprised at the rush of overwhelming sensory 
inputs, shut down momentarily. His body took over. It 
knew where his penis was, and why it was there. It did 
what it knew it was supposed to do. It transferred the 
contents of Bobby's scrotum to the small dark cave 
inside of Prudence's body, filling it to overflowing 
with happy, active sperm cells.

Prudence's mind, in a dusty corner that hadn't been 
used in two years, felt the rush of wet heat in her 
womb, and cried out that it was to be over so soon. Her 
reaction was like that of a person who has fallen deep 
in water, has held her breath, struggling to reach the 
surface, lungs straining, face finally breaking the 
surface... only to find unbreatheable air there. Yet, 
at the same time, that rush of heat deep inside her was 
so welcome that another part of her mind breathed 
deeply of it, lungs filling to the very bottom, almost 
bursting with clean, fresh, life-giving oxygen.

Bobby, completely unprepared for his ejaculation, felt 
the natural urge to move his penis in Prudence... to 
keep his ejaculation going. That urge caused him to 
press deeper, pull out a little, and slam deep again. 
That felt fabulous, so he did it again... and again... 
and again.

Prudence's mind stuttered. When Harold did what Bobby 
had just done, which he did quite often almost as 
quickly as Bobby had, he rolled off of her and sighed 
contentedly. But Bobby didn't do that. Bobby, when he 
flushed her full of that heat, began doing THEN what 
Harold only did occasionally. She realized that the 
penis that had made her feel so complete only seconds 
before, had NOT wilted, like it had in the bathroom, 
but was still firm. And Bobby was poking and prodding 
her in the MOST delightful way with that still-firm 
thing. That air-starved part of her mind opened its 
mouth again and breathed deeply.

Bobby couldn't believe how wonderful it felt to slide 
in and out of Prudence. His mind, cleared by that mind-
blowing orgasm, began to notice the woman under him. He 
felt her large, soft breasts, crushed under his chest. 
He felt her loins, bucking up at him, and her legs, 
which had entwined with his. He heard her agonized 
moans of joy as his stiff cock plumbed her depths. 

He heard the joy in her voice, and it spurred him to 
keep doing what he was doing to make those sounds 
happen. He didn't know that his natural desire to go 
deep satisfied her desire to feel her clit being mashed 
and abused. He didn't know that his desire to please 
her touched something deep inside her that no other man 
had taken the time to touch.

All he knew was that he liked doing this new thing, and 
if he could do it for a long time, then he would make 
it last as long as he could.

When she had an orgasm, he thought he'd hurt her, and 
stopped moving.

"Ohhh Bobby don't stop baby." she moaned, her hands 
pulling at his buttocks where they had been ever since 
he'd first slid into her.

Reassured, he moved again. Bobby was, by virtue of the 
need to survive, an expert at watching people. He was 
quite good, on an unconscious level, at recognizing 
what made people happy. And, if people were happy, they 
were less likely to hurt you, and more likely to do 
things you wanted them to do.

Thus it was that Bobby, during his first complete 
sexual encounter, got the chance to see what made a 
woman happy during sex. His own genetic need had been 
assuaged, and now he studied the woman under him, 
learning what made her squirm and cry out with joy. He 
watched her through two more of those gut-wrenching 
episodes that he now realized were the woman's 
equivalent of what he had felt as he spurted inside 
her. He loved it when she did that. It made him feel 
good to be able to help her feel that way. 

Then, suddenly she flopped back, limp, her eyes closed, 
like she was dead. But her chest still heaved as she 
dragged in panting breaths. He somehow knew that it was 
time to stop. He had been on the edge of spurting again 
for several minutes, but had pushed it back, wanting to 
be able to go on. Now he let the urge to spurt loose. 
He whined and pushed hard, letting his balls pump their 
seed into her again before relaxing on top of her, 
gasping himself.

Prudence couldn't believe what had happened. She was 
quite sure now that Harold was somehow crippled 
sexually and that she just hadn't known it. She had 
never had more than one orgasm at a time, and it had to 
be this man on top of her who was responsible for that. 
And he had even given her that deep heat TWICE!

"Ohhh Bobby," she sighed, playing with the hair on his 
head as he panted on top of her. "Thank you so much." 

He lifted his head, looking tired, but smiled and 
reached to kiss her briefly.

She didn't want to move, but had a panicky feeling that 
this had to have taken hours, and that supper had 
probably already been served.

"We have to go!" she said, pushing at him, and wishing 
they could just stay in bed forever.

Bobby, used to going where people told him to go, and 
doing what people told him to do, got up. He wished 
they could stay there too, warm under the covers. But 
he jumped up and dressed quickly to minimize the time 
his body was exposed to the cold.

Prudence did much the same thing. Her mind whirled 
still over what had just happened. She darted quick 
glances at Bobby, suddenly glad he couldn't talk... 
couldn't betray what they had just done... what she was 
quite sure they would do again, if she had anything to 
say about it.

"Bobby?" she said. When he looked at her she had to ask 
the next question. "Have you done that before?" She was 
afraid of what his answer would be.

When he shook his head her jaw dropped. "Really? Not 
even with... the others?"

He shook his head again.

"Oh." she said, feeling unaccountably happy that he 
hadn't done this with anyone else. Then she suddenly 
felt guilty for taking him so much farther than the 
others. "I don't suppose we should tell anyone we did 
this," she said. "I don't think they'd understand. 
Usually only married people do that." 

Bobby pointed at her and then lifted her hand to finger 
her wedding band. Prudence realized for the first time 
that she had just cheated on her husband. A stab of 
guilt was immediately replaced by a feeling that she 
had vindicated her status as a discarded wife.

"Well, yes, I'm married, but my husband doesn't want me 
any more," she said. The pain she would have felt at 
saying that was strangely absent. Her brain was still 
flooded with dopamine, that blunted the guilt. "But 
most women don't do this with a man who isn't their 
husband. People wouldn't understand why this happened."

He nodded, but looked confused too.

"What I mean, Bobby, is that people wouldn't approve. 
They wouldn't let me be around you any more if they 
found out we did this. But I want you to know I loved 
it. I'm glad it happened. But it probably shouldn't 
have happened... Oh I don't know WHAT to say." she 
ended up, beginning to feel guilty again.

Bobby, seeing the ambivalence in her face, took her 
hand. He smiled. He brought one finger to his lips and 
she recognized that as his pledge not to say anything. 
She hugged him and he tried to kiss her, but she pushed 
him away.

"Not now. If you kiss me we'll end up back in bed, and 
we have to get back. We've probably missed supper and 
Mavis will be up in arms." 

Then, in direct violation of her own statement, she 
kissed him firmly.

"Thank you so much Bobby." she said, when she was done. 
"I can't tell you how much this means to me."

***

They hurried through the snow and into the back door. 
The food smells as they entered Milleson House smote 
them like steam hits a bather in a spa. But supper 
wasn't over. It hadn't been served yet. As it turned 
out, they had been gone only an hour and a half.

Mavis looked up from stirring a pot. The cold air had 
robbed Prudence of the well-fucked look she had had 
when they left her house. Now she just looked happy.

"Get everything taken care of?" she asked.

"Yes" said Prudence. "Everything's fine now."

"Didn't get too dirty." commented Mavis, eyeing the 
relatively clean appearance of both.

"We tried to be careful," said Prudence.

"Good," said Mavis. "Remember we have a visitor 
tonight." she said, turning back to the stove.

"Yes," said Prudence, squeezing Bobby's hand. "I'll 
pitch in and help get things ready. Thanks again Bobby. 
I couldn't have done that without you."

Bobby just grinned.


CHAPTER EIGHT


The children were excited when they found out Rachel 
was going to be there for dinner that night. The air of 
excitement transferred to the women. Meg and Sally, of 
course, were glad their new friend would be coming. For 
the others, there was the anticipation of having 
someone new in the house, and they were interested to 
make their own judgment of this woman who had been the 
topic of so much talk in town.

Now, two weeks after school had started again, Rachel's 
face had healed to the point where she merely looked 
jaundiced. The dark black and purple bruises had faded 
to a sickly yellow, and her lips had healed to the 
point where she could speak plainly and they caused her 
no pain. She wasn't quite as self conscious about her 
appearance, and was happy that she was going to break 
up the tedium of her normal existence by eating supper 
at Milleson House.

Plus, she'd get to see Bobby again. She hadn't started 
tutoring him in the afternoons again, yet. She was 
still very tired after half a day of dealing with 
children. While she got to see him in school every day, 
she missed getting to concentrate on just looking at 
him.

As she hurried through the crusty snow she reflected on 
that thought. At school she acted completely normal 
toward him, and had been since school had started back 
up. He did the same things in the classroom he had 
always done, helping the children, or reading. Her 
attitude toward her hero, as she had called him, was no 
different on the outside than it had ever been. 

But on the inside Rachel's attitude toward Bobby had 
undergone a vast change. Thankfully, a lot of what had 
happened to her during the attempted rape was not 
available to her conscious memory. She remembered the 
incident, but there were large gaps in that memory. 
Much of it had been suppressed. She remembered knowing 
that she was going to be raped. That had made her 
angry, because she had always treated her virginity as 
a precious gift that she would one day offer to a man 
of her own choosing. She hadn't met a man who deserved 
it, in her opinion.

It wasn't fair to say that she hadn't had sexual urges. 
She had felt them many times as she danced with some 
young man, or flirted at a party. She had experimented 
between her legs, and knew what that thrill felt like. 
And, at school, she was busy enough that she didn't let 
her mind dwell on those infrequent sexual urges even 
more infrequent since she had moved to Nebraska.

But at night, when she lay in the bed where her 
cherished virginity had almost been ripped from her by 
that savage man, and she thought about how Bobby had 
looked that day in school, or remembered his eyes 
looking into hers, she felt things that she wasn't 
prepared to feel. Her mind remembered how she had been 
naked in front of him, and that he hadn't tried to hurt 
her, like the other man... how he had held her... how 
the horror had been held at bay, as if it had some 
special power to keep her safe.

He HAD kept her safe. He had saved her. She had never 
been in love before. She didn't know what 'being in 
love' felt like. But she had never felt for a male like 
she felt for Bobby... in the night. She tried not to 
think about it, because it was frightening. No, that 
wasn't the right word.

It was exciting.

It made her want to be naked in front of him again.

She didn't understand that urge... thought it was 
insane for her to feel sexual toward someone who was so 
closely involved in the horror of that incident. She 
had examined that for hours, lying there, trying not to 
slide her hand between her legs to press against that 
place that felt so good to press.

Over the long nights, though, she had come to realize 
that what her attacker had been doing wasn't really 
about sex. It was about dominating her... taking from 
her... terrorizing her. And Bobby wasn't like that. He 
didn't take. He gave. As miserable as his life had 
been, he somehow came down on the giving side of things 
and offered himself whenever he saw a need.

And, she had decided, she had a need. She wanted Bobby 
to meet that need. She had no idea, however, how to go 
about that.

That was why she was ambivalent about going to supper 
too. Excited... and ambivalent at the same time. She 
shook her head and laughed out loud. How could a young 
man affect her like this?

Then the door was in front of her, and her hand was 
knocking. June Bug opened it, smiling widely, pulling 
at her sleeve, welcoming her into the warmth of the 
house. A feeling of ecstasy welled up in her. She was 
loved and wanted here. At least by this precious girl.

That feeling was confirmed as she took off her coat, 
exposing the best dress she owned, and had worn because 
being invited to supper seemed like such an honor. The 
children gathered around her, their voices mingling 
into a cacophony of sound that, rather than grating on 
her ears, caressed them. She wiped at her eyes, ashamed 
that a mere greeting could make her feel so powerfully 
wanted.

Mrs. Milleson pushed through the throng.

"Here now! Children! Give the poor woman a chance to 
breathe." she said, clearing a place around Rachel. 
Rachel felt the woman's eyes on her like she was under 
a magnifying glass, being scrutinized. But the woman 
had a smile on her face.

"Welcome" she said. "Come in. Stand by the stove and 
warm yourself." She pointed the way. "You must be a 
wonderful teacher for these terrible children to be so 
excited."

"They're NOT terrible" said Rachel before she could 
stop herself. She blushed. "I mean they're really 
wonderful Mrs. Milleson. You're doing a wonderful job 
raising them."

"Lands sakes, girl, call me Mavis," said Mavis. "No 
need to be formal around here." She continued looking 
at the young woman. "I suppose they are good children 
at that."

The smells were wonderful, and the atmosphere was 
wonderful, and by the time Rachel was seated at the 
table she wished it would go on forever. She recognized 
meager fare when she saw it, but the happiness on the 
faces of the children was so real that the plain meal 
seemed right somehow. She watched as the women did what 
mothers everywhere do with children at meal time and 
felt a sudden urge to have a roomful of children of her 
own. 

Her eyes darted to where Bobby sat, down the table. He 
was helping Emily spoon corn onto her plate. She 
blushed at the thought that went through her mind, and 
took a bite of roast quickly. She wasn't used to 
thinking such things, particularly not in public.

Mavis had seated her at the head of the table, and had 
placed children on both sides of her, in an unspoken 
invitation to join in the matronly duties around the 
table. She did so, feeling that she was lucky to be 
able to do something so simple as helping a child eat.

When all had been served, and the chatter had muted due 
to full mouths, Mavis established some adult 
conversation.

"Well, your color seems to be much improved," she said.

Rachel was usually uncomfortable when someone talked 
about her face. Somehow, in this setting, it didn't 
bother her.

"Yes, the doctor says I was very lucky, and that when 
everything heals completely there will be almost no 
sign of what happened," she said. She still had to chew 
gently though. Her jaw hadn't been broken, but whatever 
held one's jaws together had been strained.

"That's good," said Mavis. "Beauty such as yours should 
not be spoiled."

Rachel blushed again, unaccountably pleased that this 
woman thought she was beautiful. She had always taken 
her beauty for granted. Not any more.

"Thank you." she mumbled. Her eyes went again to Bobby 
as she wondered if he thought she was beautiful too. 
Always before she'd have assumed all men found her 
beautiful. Not any more. "He said there will be some 
small scars."

Mavis looked closely at the woman's face. Again she 
felt like she was under a magnifying glass. She nodded. 
"Yes, I can see them now. I don't think they'll detract 
too much. Lines on a face give it character."

Mavis looked surprised that she'd said that and then 
laughed to cover her own blush. "Of course I'd say 
that. Old women want to believe lines make for 
character." 

Rachel was surprised. Mavis Milleson might be in her 
mid thirties, but she was certainly no old woman. "How 
would you know?" she asked, meaning it to be a 
compliment. "Have old women told you so?"

There were titters from several of the other women, Meg 
among them, but smiles went with them.

Mavis sat back in her chair. She felt old sometimes. 
That feeling had come from a lot of things. She had 
married well when she was nineteen, to a merchant who 
provided her with a big house and announced that he 
wanted her to fill it with his offspring. What he did 
to advance that plan had thrilled her to her very core. 
But before he could put a baby in her womb he had 
developed a cough that became worse and worse and then, 
tearing her new and wonderful life apart, had taken him 
from her. 

She was left with a big, empty house, and the thought 
of trying to fill it with another man had been 
unthinkable. Turning that empty place into a boarding 
house had been a thing of necessity, and running it had 
taken all her time and energy to the point that she had 
settled into that role - the role of a widow woman who 
ran a boarding house - and didn't think about that 
wonderful thing her dead husband had done with her in 
their bedroom. 

Slowly, her boarders became her 'children', and she 
cared for them instead of for her own offspring. Then 
the depression came, and the war, and suddenly real 
children filled her house. That was both good and bad. 
Good because her old yearning to have a houseful of 
children was realized. Bad because she fell in love 
with them all, and some of them got taken away from 
her. 

They weren't taken like her husband had been taken, but 
the pain felt almost the same. And she was still too 
busy to think about that other thing that was still 
missing from her life. Because of that, and the 
unending work she so willingly submerged herself in, 
she didn't feel young any more.

Rachel's blatant compliment made Mavis feel better than 
if a man had whistled at her.

"You're welcome at supper any time you want to come 
back." Mavis grinned.

Rachel was invited to stay after supper, to listen to 
the radio. She watched as Bobby sat nearby, working on 
a carving. She saw others on a shelf on the wall and 
went to examine them. One was of a dog standing, one 
front leg lifted, his back straight, his tail stiff and 
nose straining forward. It was gorgeous. Another was of 
a bitch, lying on her side, with puppies gorging at her 
teats. That carving made it appear as if the dog and 
her puppies were rising from the depths of the wood, 
appearing as they drifted upwards. 

It had an unfinished look, and at the same time made 
the viewer realize the relationship between the 
unfinished original tree underneath, and the living, 
breathing creatures the tree had yielded up. A third 
piece was a medallion of intricately carved interwoven 
lines that formed a Gordian Knot. It was small enough 
to be placed on a jewelry box or some such thing and 
would make a plain box precious because of its 
intricacy.

She realized Mavis was standing beside her and looked 
over. 

"They're so beautiful." she said, her voice almost a 
whisper. "They grip my heart," she said. Without 
realizing she was saying it she added "Just like 
Bobby."

Mavis arched an eyebrow. "Not you too."

Rachel realized what she'd said and blushed. "Not me 
too... what?"

"That boy's got three of us wrapped around his finger 
like a teenaged girl at her first dance." She didn't 
realize that her use of the word "us" made it 
impossible to tell if she was one of the three she 
mentioned or not. Rachel, hearing that, felt 
comradeship with the older woman.

She turned to Mavis. "Yes, me too. It's terrible! All I 
can think about is what he did for me. What I wish..." 
She stopped. "He's just a boy." she said helplessly.

"I'm not so sure of that," said Mavis, thinking her own 
thoughts. "I've got a feeling he's much more of a man 
than he looks."

"Why would you say that?" asked Rachel, curious about 
anything that involved Bobby.

"When he first came here we thought he was simple 
minded. We gave him baths... like we do the other 
children."

Rachel stared at Mavis. The idea of Bobby, being 
bathed... his skin bare and slick with soap... Her 
nipples tightened and tingled. "You've seen him... 
naked?" she asked.

Mavis looked at Rachel's wide eyes and chuckled. "We 
all have. By the time we figured out he wasn't anywhere 
near stupid, it had sort of become a habit, I guess. I 
should do something about it. Something's going to 
happen. I can feel it in my bones. If it hasn't 
already." she said, staring at Bobby.

"You can't mean that any of these women have..." Rachel 
couldn't finish. Somehow the thought of any woman lying 
with Bobby made her want to scream. Well, any OTHER 
woman. "You haven't... have you?" she said 
automatically. Then Rachel flushed bright red. "Oh 
Mavis, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I have no 
business prying into your affairs."

Mavis turned her shrewd glance on the young teacher. 
"No, only three of them have bathed him. And I don't 
think any of them have done anything completely insane. 
That's not to say I haven't thought about it myself. He 
just has this... something. I can't put my finger on 
it. I should put my foot down, but I can't." She turned 
to her guest. "And now you're smitten with him too. 
Lands sakes. I need to get that boy out of here and 
into a proper place for a boy his age before something 
happens for sure."

Rachel felt panic at the idea of Bobby going away. 
"Mavis, I'd just die if he went away," she said. Then 
she promptly slapped her hand over her mouth, horrified 
that she'd said it aloud.

Mavis laughed though. "Don't feel that way. I know how 
you feel. I can't believe some of the things I've 
thought about here lately myself!"

Rachel felt better, and her jealousy fled as if it had 
never been. She had someone to confide in who 
understood, at least a little, of what she was feeling.

"Do you think we're terrible?" she asked.

Mavis actually thought about that a little bit before 
answering. "Rachel, I don't rightly know if we're 
terrible or not, but I do know this. He's a good boy, 
and he deserves whatever happiness he can find. And I 
think that goes for the rest of us too. Life's been 
pretty hard for the last few years. One part of me 
thinks it's like robbing the cradle. But another part 
of me thinks that's one big baby over there." She 
grinned to ease the seriousness of her voice.

"Well" said Rachel, keeping her face as calm as she 
could. "If you ever need any help at bath time, you let 
me know."

Both women burst into gales of laughter, and Bobby 
looked over at them from his carving. Their laughter 
caused a natural smile on his face and that just made 
the women laugh harder.

Then Meg cornered Rachel and took her off to read to 
the children who weren't listening to the radio 
program. Mavis walked over to where Bobby was carving 
and admired the horse he was working on. The large, 
ungainly chunk of wood he'd started with was becoming a 
rearing stallion before her very eyes, as, sliver by 
sliver, he removed the wood that wasn't part of the 
horse. She remembered the large medallion he had carved 
for the cabinet maker. 

It was still sitting in her room, where she'd put it 
for safe keeping until she could take it back to the 
man. She should have taken it days ago, but somehow 
kept forgetting. She liked staring at it when she was 
getting ready for bed. She decided to take it to the 
cabinet maker the next day.

"You're collecting quite a harem young man." she said 
casually to Bobby. He looked up and smiled that 
beautiful loins-wrenching smile. "You just be careful," 
she said. "You're biting off more than you could ever 
chew. If any of those women fall in love with you it 
could cause an uproar."

Bobby was astonished at her words. He knew that what he 
was doing with some of the women was fun - for all of 
them - but the concept of a woman falling in love with 
him, especially older women like that, was like 
thinking he could suddenly fly. He snorted and raised 
an eyebrow at his guardian.

"You laugh now," said Mavis, reaching out to stroke his 
hair. "I think next time you take a bath it had better 
be me who tends you."

His smile disarmed her completely. He looked almost 
eager and it made her feel like a school girl who's 
been asked to a dance for the first time. She had a 
fleeting sensation of caution that shot through her. 
"Then again, maybe that's not such a good idea," she 
said.

His look of obvious unhappiness made butterflies dance 
in her stomach and suddenly she didn't feel nearly so 
old and wrinkled.

***

The next day Rachel asked Bobby to walk her home after 
school. Her visit to Milleson House had been an eye 
opener for her in several ways. First she was astounded 
by the love that the five women poured out onto their 
helpless charges. She had known them all as students, 
but seeing them at home made her realize they were 
children who, though they had no parents or kin, were 
loved none the less. 

Her own upbringing had been short of that kind of love, 
though there was some. Her amazingly frank talk with 
Mavis had somehow set her free to think about things 
without feeling like she was perverted, or strange. 
And, seeing Bobby carve... seeing him do things that 
men did for a living... made her look at him more as a 
man. Her conscious mind knew he was a boy, but when the 
radio had given the war news, and talk had turned to 
Prudence's husband, away at war, Donna had offhandedly 
said, "At least we don't have to worry about Bobby. He 
can't talk, so they won't take him and send him off to 
die." 

She had turned to look at the boy, and realized that in 
a very short time indeed he would be the same age as 
men who were fighting for freedom. He would be a man. 
The thought of him dying pierced her so painfully that 
she'd had to sit down for a few minutes.

That night she thought about how close she had come to 
death. She thought about all those children, in that 
big house, and how wonderful it would be if they were 
all her own. She dreamed impossible dreams of Bobby as 
her husband... of Bobby helping her to fill a house 
like that.

She didn't actually plan anything. It was all just 
cotton in her head. But at school she asked him to walk 
her home. And when they got there she offered to feed 
him, little as she had, and poor cook that she was. She 
watched him eat the cold ham she cut for him... watched 
him lick his fingers and wolf down half a loaf of bread 
with butter. She gave him one of her hoarded apples, 
and watched as the juice ran down from the corners of 
his mouth as he crushed the sweet pulp between his 
teeth.

And words began coming out of her mouth, unbidden, 
horrifying to the "good girl" in her, but unstoppable.

"You saved me," she said. 

He waved his hand, as if he had only split some wood 
for her, and smiled.

"You saw me naked."

The smile disappeared from his face, and he became 
serious.

"No man has seen me like that. Not before that day," 
she said. Her hands gripped her skirt and twisted it, 
an unconscious nervous outlet.

"You saw me naked and all you did was hold me, and 
comfort me," she said.

He shrugged. He didn't know what else to do.

"I never thanked you," she said.

Bobby pulled paper from his pocket. He always carried 
that now, along with a stub of pencil. "Yes you have. 
Many times." he wrote.

"I didn't thank you like I should have," she said. "You 
are my hero Bobby. And the heros in all the books get 
the fair maiden's love in return. They get other things 
too, Bobby."

Bobby wrote "Those are just fairy tales."

"I want you to kiss me Bobby." she said, her face 
serious. "Like in the fairy tales. I know I'm still 
ugly, but would you kiss me? Please?"

Bobby wrote "Not ugly. Beautiful." in the corner of the 
paper. The pencil slipped in his greasy fingers, and 
smudged the paper.

"Let me wash your hands," she said. He stood up and she 
realized he was taller than she was. She'd never 
noticed that before. She took him to the sink. She had 
the gray rough soap he had always seen before he came 
to Milleson House and he reached for it. But she 
snatched the soap first. 

"Let me," she said. 

The water was cold, and she got the pot she had put on 
the stove for tea, adding some to a small pot and 
mixing in cold. Then she washed his hands, rubbing each 
finger.

"Mavis told me they give you baths," she said.

Bobby's eyes widened. What came through her voice 
astounded him. He looked at her like an authority 
figure... a teacher... someone to please... and who 
could make life either good or bad for him. No 
authority figure had ever said anything to him in that 
tone of voice. He felt his penis stir at that tone, but 
couldn't believe she meant what it sounded like. He 
couldn't help but look around the room for a tub.

She smiled. "No, I don't have a tub like they do over 
there. I have to take my baths in this pot," she said. 
His look of confusion made her smile.

"Like this," she said. Her fingers went to the buttons 
of her dress and undid them. She wore the only 
brassiere she'd been able to afford. It was old now, 
and thin... stretched by the weight of her breasts, but 
she didn't care that he saw it. The look in his eyes as 
her near-nude body appeared actually settled her. He 
looked at her like a man looks at a woman. That just 
solidified in her mind that he was, in fact, a man.

She took a rag and dipped it in the water. Then she 
rubbed it on the bar of lye soap and rubbed it up an 
down one arm, changing to do the other. Then she rubbed 
the rag over her chest, above her bra.

"Like this." she said again. "Is this how they bathe 
you?" she asked, her voice husky now.

Bobby shook his head.

"Show me." she said, breathing faster. "Show me how 
they bathe you."

Bobby took the rag from her and dropped it in the sink. 
He got the soap and dipped it in the water and managed 
to make thin lather on his hands. He slid his hands 
down her arm, one on each side.

"I washed there already." she said, her eyes staring 
into his. Her hands went to where the bra came together 
in the front. There were laces there and she pulled at 
a loose end, undoing them. The bra sagged and pulled 
apart. Breathing faster still she pulled it apart. 
Bobby started to look away and she spoke.

"No, you've seen me before. It's all right. Wash me 
here." she said, cupping her breasts.

She moaned as Bobby's hands cupped her heavy mams and 
slid around the sides, and then down, his hands 
scraping across her nipples.

"Oh yesss!" she hissed, her eyes closing.

Bobby stopped. He thought he knew what she wanted now, 
but still had a hard time believing it. He dipped his 
hands in the water and then rinsed her breasts, 
watching as the water dribbled down across her abdomen 
and turned her panties dark where they became wet. Her 
hands came to his wrists and he thought it was to stop 
him, but they pushed his hands back to her breasts.

Now he knew for sure. It was something he'd never have 
believed, but her actions made it clear. He leaned over 
and sucked at her nipple, pulling it in, like he had 
the others.

"AAAAHHHHHH!" she groaned, her hands moving to his 
head. She suddenly pushed him away, her hands going to 
his shirt buttons, pulling at them, trying to get them 
open. Her eyes were wild and her teeth were bared as in 
her frustration she pulled and a button went sailing 
across the room to bounce on the floor and hit the 
wall. 

Now it was Bobby's hands that stopped hers, he kissed 
her once, quickly on the lips, and shrugged out of his 
suspenders, his fingers finishing what she'd started. 
She stood, frozen, watching his skin appear and 
beginning to pant. She stared at the bulge in his 
drawers when it was uncovered and held her breath.

When he pushed his drawers down, and his bouncing penis 
appeared, her voice took on a high pitched keening 
noise as she let that breath out between tightly closed 
teeth. She sounded terrified.

Bobby took one of her hands, suspended in front of her 
like some statue, and brought it to his lips, kissing 
the back of it, like he had read about in books. Her 
eyes came back up to his and she smiled a tremulous 
tiny smile at his offer of chivalry. That little act 
penetrated her terrified brain. He didn't move... 
didn't attack her... didn't threaten her... just stood 
there looking at her with his serious brown eyes.

"I've never done this." she said, her voice tiny and 
shrill. "I don't know what to do." she whined.

Bobby had learned a lot in the last few months. Some of 
it had been taught to him, but he was a shrewd judge of 
character and of people in general. He could hear the 
fear in her voice, and he didn't like that sound. He 
wanted nothing to do with hurting this woman. He knew 
she had been hurt by the last man... knew she had not 
been herself for days afterward. When he'd next seen 
her she seemed her old self, though horribly bruised. 
He knew what that was like - being beaten - and knew 
what that did to a person. Very gently, almost 
painfully slowly, he pulled at her, getting her close 
enough to him that he could hug her.

Rachel hadn't realized how cold it was in her house 
until she felt her breasts touch Bobby's chest. She 
hadn't been able to think about much of anything once 
she'd felt his hands on her breasts. She couldn't 
believe this was happening to her... couldn't believe 
how she was acting. But the dream she was having, while 
astonishingly frightening, also felt somehow right and 
proper in a way she couldn't begin to understand. And 
right now she didn't want to think. She just wanted to 
be warm and held in this man's arms. 

A sob lurched from her lungs, shaking her shoulders, 
and her arms went around Bobby like a vice. She was 
unbelievably strong in that moment, crushing her chest 
and loins to his. She felt that stiff prong against her 
belly, and it cause a heat there that was deep inside 
her. All her late night cottony yearnings rushed into 
her head and burst into parts of her body. Her nipples, 
despite being against his warm chest spiked painfully, 
and she felt a gurgle in her belly as she became wet 
between her legs with a rush of fluid.

"I'm cooold," she murmured into his chest.

She felt his head turn... toward the bed. Something 
burst inside her and she pushed him away.

"Yes!" she barked. "The bed!"

She all but ran the few short steps, pulling him behind 
her by his hand. She threw back the covers and then 
pushed at her panties, ripping them in her haste to get 
them off her body. She fell, tripping and he caught her 
by her hips, pushing her toward the bed. She rolled and 
with his assistance, ended up on the bed, scooting to 
get under the covers. She looked up to see him standing 
beside the bed, staring down at her. His penis looked 
immense to her untrained eyes, like a club. But she 
wanted to be beaten with that particular club.

"Get in bed with me," she moaned. "You have to get in 
bed with me."

Her invitation galvanized him and he slid in beside her 
- not on top of her as she expected - but beside her, 
moving up against her. She writhed against him, trying 
to get every square inch of her skin to touch his. His 
lips found hers and she thought she'd drown on dry land 
as his tongue swept into her mouth and she suddenly 
couldn't breathe. Now she wanted to push him back out, 
suddenly afraid again... afraid of her own reactions to 
him.

But that kiss went on and he didn't force her to do 
anything. Her mind calmed just enough to pull back from 
panic, and began to recognize other sensations. Again 
she felt his heat, and squirmed at the pleasure of 
that. One of his hands was on her back, sliding up and 
down. It slid onto her buttock and she clenched it, 
shoving her mons toward his, loving the rough feel of 
his hand scraping her skin. Her kiss became demanding 
and now it was her tongue that forced its way into his 
mouth, searching for whatever it was she needed so 
desperately.

Her whole body felt like a balloon, filling with 
something that was going to make it burst into a 
thousand floppy pieces. Her hand went to his shaft and 
she was astounded at the velvety feel over the hardness 
that she knew was made to thrust inside her body. 

She hadn't planned anything. She had wanted something, 
but she hadn't known exactly what that was. Now she 
wanted this velvety hard thing to go where she suddenly 
felt so empty. She pulled at him, knowing that the man 
was supposed to be on top, but not knowing what else to 
do.

He rolled on top of her, remembering the feeling of 
Prudence's flesh, wrapped tightly around him and 
knowing that was what this woman wanted too. He felt 
the tip of his cock nudge into that unbelievable heat.

"Slowly" she groaned, ending in an "eeeeee" sound. 
Prudence had wanted him to push hard, and go deep, and 
that was the only way he knew to do this thing he'd 
done only once. But her cry that held fear in it made 
him hesitate and he pushed only a little. He felt the 
resistance immediately and she groaned again, in pain. 
He didn't want to hurt her, and pulled away from her.

"Nooooo" she cried. "It's supposed to hurt the first 
time." she moaned. "I need you Bobby. Pleeease."

This was something he didn't understand. If it hurt 
her, why would she want to do it? He wanted to be 
inside her. That was a feeling he wanted badly. But not 
if she cried out. She was pulling him toward her again, 
pulling him into that heat again.

"Push!" she demanded.

He pushed and the resistance bent his prick... and then 
vanished as if it had never been there. He had 
increased the weight of his push, and when her hymen 
tore he sank into her as deeply as he had with 
Prudence.

Her agonized cry of pain made him freeze and her 
fingers dug into his sides. When he tried to pull out 
of her those fingers gripped his flesh painfully.

"Don't move." she groaned. He felt her sobbing and 
didn't know what to do. He ducked his head and kissed 
her eyes, and then below them. Her cheeks were as far 
as he could get without going lower and she arched her 
neck so her lips came to his.

Her eyes opened and she saw the concern in his deep 
brown ones.

"I want this," she groaned. "Don't take it out." She 
kissed him, and then again, and he felt her hips wiggle 
under him. Then her tongue flicked out and she licked 
his lips.

"It's not so bad now," she moaned. "Just let me get 
used to it."

Bobby was beginning to think there was something wrong 
with her. She felt wonderful, wrapped firmly around him 
down there. Her heat was just as hot as Prudence's had 
been, though she was tighter. He remembered that 
Prudence liked it when he pressed his hair against 
hers. He dug in his toes and rocked forward a little.

"OHHHHHHH!" Rachel groaned. The pain had been 
unbelievable as she felt... actually felt her flesh 
tear. Her first thoughts had been that women must be 
insane to want this. But she DID want this... right 
now... with THIS man. The pain dulled almost instantly, 
to a feeling a little like being bloated from eating 
too much. Then he rocked forward, and she thought the 
top of her head was going to pop right off..

"OHHHH YES!" she croaked, her voice cracking with 
emotion. Her interior muscles rebelled against the 
invading monster, squeezing. But she couldn't resist, 
and those muscles relaxed again. He felt that and 
rocked forward again.

"Ohhhh Mama!" moaned Rachel, and this time there was 
only a trace of pain in her voice.

Bobby felt her muscles loosen around him, then they 
fluttered, like they couldn't make up their mind 
whether to grip or loosen. He heard something other 
than pain in her voice and rocked into her again, 
mashing his hairs against hers hard.

He pulled his penis halfway out, and then slid it 
gently into her.

"Ohhh I love you," groaned Rachel. At that moment the 
pain fled, overcome by something else. Her hips began 
to try to get that movement inside her again, jerking. 
Her hands pushed on his hips. He backed, just as she 
did too, and slid completely out of her.

"NOOOOOOO!" she cried, hunching her hips up at him 
wildly. "Put it back IN!" He raised up and her hand 
darted between them. When she gripped him this time he 
was wet and sticky. She nosed the tip back into her 
emptiness and let out another long groan as he slid all 
the way back in, pressing hard. She felt something deep 
inside her that was pushed by the tip of his hardness. 
That hurt, but in a different way that she instantly 
loved.

Slowly, as if blind and feeling their way, they 
established the age old rhythm as he began to move in 
and out of her, pausing every third stroke or so to 
push deep and press hard. Rachel couldn't speak now. 
She made little sounds, mewls of pleasure. The rational 
part of her mind whispered "THIS is why women want to 
do this." 

The animal part of her mind just demanded more. The 
full feeling was back, and she felt like her skin would 
burst as he sped up. That place that felt so good when 
he pressed in was scraped by his shaft as he moved it, 
and again she felt like the top of her head must surely 
explode as the tension in her built to an unbearable 
level.

Then it did burst. It burst as he pressed deep and 
stayed there, the tip of his prick nudging what she 
didn't know were her inner lips. Those lips kissed the 
tip of his prick as she saw stars and her world 
collapsed on her like an avalanche. She felt unbearable 
pleasure in her loins that streaked outwards to all 
parts of her body like fireworks. And through it all, 
somehow, she felt, issuing from the tip of that hard 
thing inside her, that was nosing into her virgin womb, 
the rush of his seed as it erupted and filled her 
innermost secret place.

She wasn't sure when she became aware of anything 
outside her body. The first thing she felt was his 
weight, bearing down on her, and then his chest moving 
against hers as he gasped for breath. Immediately after 
that she felt her own breath being dragged into her 
lungs in cool, clean rushes that cleared her head. 

Next she felt the heat generated by their union as 
sweat trickled down her shoulder and into her arm pit. 
She wanted to laugh at all those times she had been 
disgusted by a runnel of sweat as it betrayed her 
sensibilities. She felt more of it between her breasts 
and pushed on him to get air between them. Her finger 
went to the little pool of sweat as they both looked 
down between her breasts.

He had stopped filling her somehow, even though his 
groin was planted firmly against hers, little trickles 
of joy still sparking in her as his hair rubbed against 
her there. Then she felt the real emptiness as he 
lifted his hips and his softened member pulled free.

"Ohhhhh" she complained, as she felt that emptiness. 
Then he shocked her by dipping his head and licking at 
the tiny puddle of sweat between her breasts. She 
gasped, and kept gasping as his lips and tongue tickled 
their way up one mound and he suckled the nipple he 
found there.

"Ahhhhhhhh," she sighed. Ecstasy. This was the 
definition of ecstasy. THIS was why women wanted to do 
this thing.

He continued to lap and suck at her nipples gently, 
changing from one to the other at precisely the right 
intervals, before his suction caused pain. As he kissed 
her shoulders and then her neck she tilted her head, 
loving the feel of his lips as they sent tiny thrills 
through her tired body.

Tired.

She was exhausted. She wanted to sleep for a month.

The feel of something wet dribbling between her 
buttocks made her think of what that was.

His seed.

He had flushed her full of his seed. 

She was a woman... of childbearing age. She could be 
pregnant as she thought about this feeling. She 
examined that possibility with a remarkably clear inner 
vision, watching herself thinking about that... 
watching her hand slid between them to seal off the 
leak of that precious fluid. 

She wanted this man's baby. She wanted ten of this 
man's babies. She wanted to start all over again and do 
what they had done for a month straight. THEN she would 
think about sleeping. Her fingers pressed his seed into 
her and she hit that special spot that he had made feel 
so good... that spot that had made the horrible pain go 
away.

Horrible pain? Part of her mind knew there had been 
horrible pain, but it was a dim and dusty memory now, 
something like a healed cut that only felt a twinge now 
and again, but was almost whole.

Whole.

She felt whole.

She marveled at what she had done, and how completely 
whole she felt with all that seed inside her body.

Bobby got up to his hands and knees, preparing to get 
off the bed. 

Rachel moaned softly. It was cold! How could she be 
sweating and be cold at the same time? It was crazy! As 
he stood up she pulled the blankets over her with her 
free hand and made a humming noise as the warmth from 
his back, that had been infused into the blanket, 
settled down over her. She peeked out from the covers, 
looking at him. His penis was soft and shriveled now, 
hanging forlornly between his legs, like a dog that has 
been scolded. She wanted to make it long and hard 
again, as it should be.

He was bending over the table now, naked, and he was 
beautiful in her eyes. He didn't seem to mind the cold 
at all. He handed her a note.

"I should leave now?" it said.

"I don't want you to leave." she whined, like a little 
girl.

He went back to the table and wrote again.

"They'll wonder where I am," said the note this time.

"Will you walk me home tomorrow?" she asked, her voice 
still young and petulant.

He nodded, smiling widely.

"Then you can go," she said. She watched him as he 
dressed, watching the muscles in his arms and back as 
he bent and stood. She wanted him to come back to bed, 
to stay in her bed the rest of the day... all night. 
She didn't know how often a man could do that, but she 
wanted it to be many times per day.

He kissed her lips before he left, a soft, gentle kiss 
that made her itch between her legs. She wanted to make 
him kiss her neck and breasts again, all over her body, 
but she knew he was right, that he had to go home.

She wondered, as the door closed behind him, if she 
would hate herself when she fully thought about what 
had happened. She was asleep before she could find out.

***

Meg sat and fed the baby at supper that night. She had 
placed herself so she could see Bobby without it being 
obvious. There was something... different... about him 
tonight. She watched closely to see what he did at 
supper, but she saw nothing odd. He passed bowls, and 
helped a child if that child needed help. He ate his 
usual prodigious amount of food, and smiled and chewed. 
She was almost frustrated because she KNEW that 
something about him was different. Was he a little 
straighter? Were his shoulders a little more squared? 
Did he somehow look more confident?

His eyes drifted and caught hers. He smiled. He needed 
a haircut. But he was so handsome it made her stomach 
hurt.

***

Mavis sat at the table, queen of all she surveyed. She 
saw Meg watching Bobby. Sally was looking at him quite 
often as well. She watched Donna for a while, and 
didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. Prudence, 
for the last day or two, had been on cloud nine. She 
laughed at everything. Her play with the children was 
intense and purposeful, as if she were trying to 
squeeze every bit of joy out of life that it was 
possible to get. Mavis wondered if her husband had seen 
the light and written her another letter, begging her 
to forgive him and take him back. She acted like 
that... like she had a good man in her life again. 

She was watching Pru when she saw her make eye contact 
with Bobby. He grinned and she blushed.

Mavis felt like she was watching one of those radio 
dramas play out before her very eyes. What was she 
going to do? She had to do something... but what was it 
going to be?


CHAPTER NINE


In school the next day, Meg and Sally stayed to help 
with the children. It was fairly clear by now that they 
weren't really needed, but their friendship with Rachel 
was an excuse to do that, and they found they liked 
being in an academic setting with the children.

Meg's confusion about what was different about Bobby 
was added to when Rachel started acting odd too. She 
seemed completely normal at first, but when she talked 
to Bobby she stuttered and couldn't think of the word 
she was looking for. She handed Bobby a book to read 
and her hands were shaking.

"Are you all right?" Meg asked, concern in her voice.

"What?" asked a distracted Rachel. "Me? Yes, of course. 
I'm fine."

"Your hands are trembling." pointed out Meg.

Rachel stared at her hands as if they actually belonged 
to someone else. She blinked, and then looked at Meg. 
"Cold. I'm still chilled from warming up the room." She 
moved off to work with a child, but she seemed 
distracted all day. When noon came she seemed to relax, 
and was her old self. She turned to Meg and said "I'm 
working with Bobby this afternoon." She was flushed as 
she said it.

"Are you sure you're all right?" asked Meg, worried now 
that Rachel had something and wasn't paying attention 
to it. "Maybe you should have the doctor look at you. 
You look flushed to me."

"Meg!" said Rachel. "I'm fine! Now, get those children 
home so they can eat."

Rachel watched them leave and looked at her hands. They 
were still shaking. And she knew she looked flushed 
because she felt flushed. Bobby was still reading as 
she straightened up the room.

"Are you ready to go?" she asked.

He looked up and grinned. He nodded and stood up. 
Rachel's knees felt weak.

They walked at what seemed like a snail's pace to 
Rachel, but actually arrived at her door in ten 
minutes. It usually took her fifteen to make that walk. 
She opened the door and let him in, following him. Then 
she closed and bolted the door. The bolt had magically 
been there when she'd returned from being recuperated 
by Eunice and her other friends. Bobby was already 
fiddling with the stove, blowing on the embers left 
from her last stoking of the fire that morning before 
she left.

Rachel, after she gave up her virginity at two in the 
afternoon the day before, had slept peacefully until 
two in the morning. When she woke in the middle of the 
night, she was warm and cozy in bed. She'd had to get 
up to use the toilet, and had winced at the ache 
between her legs. Her muscles were sore, like she'd 
walked too much, or lifted too much. Except that these 
muscles were in places she hadn't even been aware she 
had muscles. Once back in bed she had tried to regain 
that warm cozy feeling. She wished that Bobby was there 
with her. She'd be warm then. 

She eventually regained that warm feeling, but she 
wasn't sleepy any more, and her mind began to reflect 
on... things. She realized she was being silly. She 
realized she had done something she shouldn't have. She 
realized that her fantasies could never come true. In 
the dark of night she realized a lot of things. By 
morning she had left her drunken hallucinations of 
happiness with Bobby behind. She'd felt exhausted, even 
though she'd slept for twelve hours. 

She'd had to make herself go to school.

And, when she got there, and Bobby sauntered in, every 
trace of her resolve not to repeat her mistake vanished 
like dandelion fluff in a tornado. As soon as he looked 
at her she wanted to strip naked and thrust herself 
against him. She was actually glad to see Meg and Sally 
were going to stay simply because that meant she 
wouldn't do something incredibly stupid in front of the 
children.

She couldn't remember a single thing she'd taught in 
school, she realized, as she looked at Bobby's buttocks 
in his too-tight pants. And now, here she was, with the 
man of her dreams, including a few nightmares. One of 
those nightmares was of her, waddling down the street 
in town, her bulging belly sticking out in front of 
her, pulling her forward, as the townspeople pointed 
and snickered behind the hand in front of each mouth.

He stood up and turned around. He smiled at her.

She realized that her dress was already half 
unbuttoned, and there was an unfamiliar slickness 
between her legs.

There was no pain this time, other than a faint 
residual ache in those newly discovered muscles. Those 
muscles rose to the occasion, though, and that 
incredible body filling explosion came so quickly that 
Rachel moaned that it should be there and fade so 
quickly. 

Her uncomprehending mind saw something in the distance 
that rushed toward her as he continued to slide in and 
out of her and she sobbed with joy as she realized that 
it could happen again so quickly. Her hips thrust up so 
violently with her second orgasm that she lifted Bobby, 
her back straining to make her buttocks clear the 
mattress by two or three inches.

During her third orgasm, as she felt him tense and 
freeze, she felt his prick move and jump inside her and 
that fabulous heat flooded into her. Her sobs were gone 
now. Her joy was accepted unconditionally, along with 
the seed she knew would make part of her dreams come 
true. But now she laughed, because in her dream she was 
proud, and strong, her swollen belly on display for the 
people she passed as she carried her lover's baby down 
the street.

It occurred to her that, if she could reach a pinnacle 
more than once in a short while... he might be able to 
as well. She didn't let him get up this time, holding 
him close, side by side, trading kisses and touches. 
And to her delight her logic was proved as he rolled on 
top of her again and took her to the mountain top with 
him again.

***

It was bath night. Mavis sat, mending a shirt, 
listening to Meg's description of people who had the 
bodies of playing cards, and a bloodthirsty queen who 
would probably give the children bad dreams. She 
glanced up at Bobby, with his lap full of girls, who 
might as well have been sitting on toad stools, for as 
much attention as they actually paid him. Their mouths 
were open, their eyes staring as Meg fed their 
imaginations with images that took all their 
concentration to deal with.

Naked children came running into the room, digging 
silently into the pile of clean clothes, already 
listening to Meg's hypnotic voice. Others were dragged 
to the bathroom, dragging their feet, wanting to hear 
one more line, to see one more fantastic image before 
their literary drug was withdrawn. Meg seemed not to 
notice, as if she too was caught up in the story.

When the second batch of naked children appeared, Mavis 
put her sewing aside and stood up, leaning over 
backward to ease her back.

"I filled the tub already for you Meg," said Donna, 
herding children toward the pile of clothes.

"I'm taking care of Bobby tonight." Mavis announced.

Meg looked up and Mavis would have sworn there was a 
touch of panic in her face, or disappointment... or 
something.

"It doesn't seem fair to put it all on one or two 
people," she said. She didn't even believe her own 
statement, and knew it sounded flat.

She had decided to get to the bottom of the "Bobby 
phenomenon" as she thought of it. Every woman who went 
in there came out looking different, even though Bobby 
always looked like... Bobby. She saw Meg and Sally 
trade looks, and her determination firmed.

Yes, she was going to find out what went on in there, 
and whether she was going to have to do something 
radical or not.

***

Bobby's world had undergone a lot of changes since he 
had come to Milleson House. His wary attitude - his 
will to survive - had abated to some degree as survival 
became much easier. The attitudes of the people he'd 
encountered, primarily the women who were suddenly 
thrust into his life, had exposed him to something that 
no other place he'd ever live had. He'd been exposed to 
love, and caring, and unselfishness. 

He was keenly aware of all this, though he knew nothing 
of the theory that Mr. Maslow would put forth, and that 
he was firmly ensconced on level three of Mr. Maslow's 
pyramid of needs. He was also keenly aware that he had 
the capacity to make the women feel just as wonderful 
as they made him feel. There were things he still 
didn't understand. Perhaps those would come in time.

His grasp of morality was tenuous, at best, though he 
knew that stealing was wrong, and killing, though only 
under certain circumstances. He was, however, beginning 
to understand the concept of love. It was still a 
strange thing... this love thing... but he had received 
it from a number of women, and had found inside 
himself, the ability to return that love to those 
women.

It never occurred to him that in the society in which 
he lived, a man was expected to return the love of only 
one woman. Had someone sat him down and told him that, 
he would have laughed. Why in the world would someone 
want to limit that incredibly wonderful feeling? He had 
reflected on the fact that each of the women he had 
come to know was different in some ways, and alike in 
others. 

It seemed logical to him that they would show their 
love in ways that were also different, and the same. He 
didn't think it was odd that Meg and Sally loved him 
with their mouths, while Prudence and Rachel loved him 
between their legs. If he'd been asked, he would have 
said that he imagined he'd love all those women in all 
those ways sooner or later.

Now, he was being taken to bathe by Mavis. He knew she 
was "in charge" of his world. He knew that whatever she 
said was law. But he knew she was a woman also, and 
that she loved him. Her status as an authority figure 
didn't make him wary, since his teacher was also an 
authority figure who had loved him and loved him well. 
He knew what all the other women who loved him had done 
when they took him to bathe. It didn't occur to him 
that she would do anything different in the bathroom. 

He liked to look at her. Her body was different than 
that of the others, with a little more flesh on it. Her 
face was a little more lined. She stood up a little 
more slowly than the others, and stretched a little 
more often. But she was soft and warm when she hugged 
him. He looked forward to what he assumed would happen 
in the bathroom.

It was for all those reasons that, when he dropped his 
pants in front of Mavis Milleson, that he was fully 
erect, and ready to please, and be pleased by the 
woman.

To give Mavis credit, her intentions were more those of 
a detective, trying to gather evidence to support a 
hypothesis, than those of a woman trying to get a 
glimpse of something she knew, on some level, had to 
exist. 

But knowing something exists, or would exist under 
certain circumstances, is different than being 
confronted with that object.

Mavis was a strong woman... a resolute woman in most 
situations. She cannot be blamed for having been, not 
so many years earlier, a hot-blooded woman who desired 
to fill a whole house with children from her loins. Her 
husband had been a caring man, who made sure that his 
wife experienced the same bliss he did as he rode her 
to earth-shattering orgasms. She cannot be blamed for 
storing memories of those earth-shattering orgasms in a 
tiny corner of her mind. 

Like a safety deposit box in a bank some distance away, 
those memories were not often visited, but were 
treasured, none-the-less. And while Mavis controlled 
her conscious mind, there was an unconscious Mavis who 
knew from the look on Meg's face, that time her dress 
was buttoned wrongly, and from the change in Sally's 
attitude, and from the bounciness in Prudence's step, 
that being in that bathroom with Bobby was something 
that could make a woman's life better than it had been.

Mavis had clamped down on her own emotions when her 
husband had died. She had forged on ahead, and done 
what needed to be done. She had pushed her own emotions 
and passions into a tiny box, like a traveler sits on a 
too-full suitcase to get it closed. She tried to be 
proud of how she had survived. But the unconscious 
Mavis... the passionate Mavis... the hot-blooded Mavis 
inside her... that Mavis was tired of being cramped and 
unused and hidden away.

Had the conscious Mavis known what her unhappy inner 
self wanted, she might have been able to beat it back 
into submission. But when she saw that strong, young, 
virile penis pointing at her like an accusing finger, 
the latch on her over-full emotional suitcase stretched 
to the snapping point like it was made of cheap 
plastic. She wouldn't have been more surprised if an 
alligator had stuck its head up out of the tub and said 
"Hello, I'm Chuck, your new boarder."

She was, in fact, speechless.

Bobby knew that Mavis used the tub on bath nights, 
after all the others were done and all the children 
were in bed. He'd heard her complain before that it 
caused her to go to bed too late sometimes. In Bobby's 
simple world, it seemed that the rational thing to do 
was for him and Mavis to bathe at the same time, like 
he and Meg had done, since they were both in the 
bathroom. 

To that end, he began helping Mavis prepare for their 
bath by helping her undress.

Mavis watched as Bobby's nimble fingers made short work 
of the buttons of her dress. Mavis, having had no 
children, still had youthful breasts. She thought of 
them as not too large, and not too small, but a bother, 
because they weren't good for anything, particularly 
with those long sensitive nipples perched on top of 
them that kept trying to remind her that she was a 
woman and that they needed attention. 

As Bobby pushed the dress off her shoulders and it 
began to slide down her arms, the conscious Mavis took 
a breath to demand to know just what in tarnation Bobby 
thought he was doing. About then Bobby saw a fat, 
distended nipple and leaned in to see what it tasted 
like.

Mavis' unconscious mind, loose now inside her body, was 
doing an inventory of all the unused sexual parts of 
her body. It was alerted to the fact that a nipple was 
being stimulated and shouted "YES! IT'S ABOUT DAMN 
TIME!" It then hurriedly went about making sure that 
all the other unused sexual parts of her were oiled, 
primed or otherwise ready to experience the same 
fabulous stimulation.

"Bobbeeeeeee!!" squealed Mavis. Her conscious mind got 
a word in edgewise. "What are you doooooooing!?"

Bobby kissed up her chest to her lips and suddenly 
Mavis couldn't breathe any more.

Before she could catch her breath, she was standing 
naked in the bathroom with a Bobby who was equally and 
gloriously naked. He pulled her to the tub and, she 
reacted instinctively by stepping into it. He joined 
her, behind her, and sat down in the warm water, 
spreading his legs in an obvious invitation for her to 
sit between them. 

She stood, eyes wide, ankles and calves warm and stared 
at what would press against her lower back if she 
accepted that invitation. It looked larger through the 
clear water and the slickness between her legs began to 
run down her inner thighs. He reached up with one hand 
to get the soap, and the other to take her hand and 
pull.

"T-t-this is how you take a bath?" she whispered.

He smiled and nodded, looking at her with eyes she 
could just drown in and she felt her knees bend as her 
unconscious mind told her to sit.

Then his soapy hands were all over her shoulders and 
back and sliding around to cup and massage her breasts 
and, again, she couldn't breath. He pulled her back 
against his chest as his hands slid over her distended 
nipples and dipped down to rub her belly. She fully 
expected those slippery hands to dip lower and, while 
her conscious mind screamed at her to stop this 
immediately, her knees smacked into the sides of the 
tub loud enough to make a dull thunking noise. 

She registered the pain of her knees hitting the 
porcelain-covered metal, and that pain might have 
supported her conscious mind, had not his hands come 
back up to twiddle and play with her straining nipples 
again. She groaned and her hands, which had been 
gripping the edge of the tub at the insistence of her 
conscious mind, which was telling her to stand up this 
very minute and get OUT of that tub, fell away as they 
betrayed her. Those hands went to cover his, HELPING 
him rub and squeeze her breasts. To her conscious 
mind's horror, her hands pushed his lower until they 
went where she had earlier thought they were going to 
go.

She leaned hard against him as one of his fingers split 
her labia and now no longer soapy, slid across her clit 
like a knife on a sharpening stone. Her buttocks came 
up off the bottom of the tub as his finger dipped into 
her. As she rose, his finger helped, pulling at her and 
she squealed an inarticulate whine of pleasure.

Her self control... that tenuous stretched plastic 
latch on her emotional suitcase shattered, and her 
passionate nature surged out like a starving wolf that 
has been caged and sees fresh meat lying on the ground.

Her body surged, her hands gripping the edges of the 
tub again and pulling her up. But her conscious mind 
was no longer telling her to do this. Her unconscious 
mind had screamed "SHUT UP!" and she got out of the 
tub, pulling Bobby up with her and then down onto the 
slim pile of padding that was her crumpled dress. 

She landed hard, bruising her buttocks, but she didn't 
care as she pulled Bobby down on top of her between her 
spread thighs. He knew what to do, and before she could 
grasp his manhood he had it in his fist, poking it 
where his finger had just been. Her hands made claws 
and she leaned upward, her belly muscles straining so 
she could reach his buttocks. 

As she felt the nose of his prick enter her she dug her 
fingers in and pulled hard. Bobby let go and, reacting 
to her nails in his flesh, slammed forward, skewering 
her to her core.

***

It was fortunate that Donna was still upstairs, putting 
children to bed. She was by herself, which meant she 
had more children to get tucked in than usual. That was 
because the other three women were huddled, not exactly 
outside the bathroom door, but not far from it. Meg and 
Sally knew, of course, why each other were there. They 
were in a panic as to what Mavis would find out about 
what they had done with Bobby. 

No one had told them that Prudence had given Bobby an 
'extra' bath, and they didn't know that she too was 
concerned about what Mavis was going to find out in 
that room. That was why all three of them were there, 
instead of doing what they normally would have done.

It was fortunate that Donna was still upstairs, because 
Mavis' shriek as her pussy was filled with hard cock 
would have caused Donna to break down the door. These 
three, however, heard in that shriek, echoes of their 
own shrieks, though, of course, theirs had been silent 
ones, more or less. Meg and Sally stared at each other, 
their mouths open. Then, as one, they turned to 
Prudence, whose hands were cupping her breasts, her 
fingers pinching her nipples through the cloth that 
covered them. She jerked her hands away instantly, and 
her face flamed red.

Meg was astounded.

"You know?" she asked, unbelieving.

Prudence's suspicions about the others gelled. She 
assumed they had done with Bobby what she had done with 
Bobby. And what MAVIS was now doing with Bobby!

"I gave him a bath the other day when he got coal dust 
all over him." she said, her voice meek.

Sally spoke, her voice tight. "You mean you..."

"He showed me how you give him a bath," said Prudence. 
"I couldn't help myself." she whined.

Sally's world had changed radically when she had 
experienced new things with Bobby. Even though she 
hadn't been able to repeat the experience, just the 
fact that it had happened made her feel like a real 
woman. She wasn't sorry at all that she had done 
something most people would shun her for. Her primary 
concern was that the only man she'd ever 'known' would 
be sent away if anyone besides Meg ever found out about 
it. That came out now.

"Well, I feel better." she stated flatly.

"What?" asked Meg and Prudence in concert.

"I don't think Mavis will be sending Bobby anywhere 
after this." she explained.

Another joyous wail came through the door, along with a 
slapping sound that Prudence recognized, and Meg and 
Sally did not. That was the sound of Bobby's abdomen 
smacking Mavis' abdomen repeatedly.

"What's THAT?" asked Meg, suddenly looking unsure.

"That's the sound of a woman who likes it hard and 
fast," said Prudence. She covered her mouth with her 
hand and blushed at her randy statement.

Meg's eyes got rounder. "You mean they're....?"

Prudence was confused. "Of course they're.... Oh my 
goodness. You mean you didn't...?"

"Didn't what?" asked Sally, also confused.

"Didn't you two make love with him?" asked Prudence, 
her face going ashen as she thought she might have made 
a horrible mistake in admitting what she'd done.

Meg's mouth dropped open. "No! I mean I played with 
him" she looked over at Sally "We played with him and 
he played with us and it was wonderful... but we didn't 
do THAT!" She turned to Sally "Did you?"

Now Sally had finally gotten to where everyone else 
was. Her reaction wasn't quite as virginal as Meg's, 
and her eyes had a far away look in them. "No, but from 
the sounds Mavis is making I wish I had."

Her eyes cleared as she realized what she'd said and 
she blushed too.

"Oh my word," said Prudence.

"What about Donna?" asked Meg suddenly.

All three women looked at each other.

"She's never been alone with him," said Prudence.

"No" said Sally. "I mean I know that, but what if she 
comes back down and hears that?" pointed out Sally.

Prudence blanched. "Oh my." 

"Maybe she's done something with him too," said Meg.

"I don't think Donna's had a chance to do anything," 
said Prudence.

"We didn't think you'd done anything." pointed out 
Sally maddeningly.

"Well, if she comes down here and hears Mavis... and 
she HASN'T done anything... she'll call for the 
constable!" said Meg.

Sally, the calmest of the three at the moment, said 
"I'll go up and stall her. You two see if you can do 
anything to quiet things down in there."

"What, exactly are we supposed to do?" asked Prudence, 
frowning.

"I don't know," said Sally. "Bang on the door or 
something." She ran for the stairs, as if she were 
afraid that Donna might be on her way down at that very 
moment.

The two remaining co-conspirators, who were distinctly 
uncomfortable BEING co-conspirators, looked at each 
other helplessly.

There was another wail of ecstacy through the door, and 
more smacking sounds.

"You bang on the door." suggested Prudence.

"I'm not banging on any doors. I've never done what 
they're doing in there!" stated Meg, backing away as 
she said it.

Prudence looked haunted for a few seconds, then 
straightened her shoulders and turned to face the door. 
Unformed thoughts flitted around in her head as she 
raised her hand daintily, as if to knock politely to 
report for an engagement somewhere.

Mavis let loose with another wail of unabashed pleasure 
inside and it wavered through the door and hit Prudence 
like a wave of force. She looked toward the stairs and 
felt unaccountably relieved that Sally and Donna 
weren't standing there, horrified. 

Then, too rattled to think clearly, she opened the door 
instead of knocking on it.

She blinked as Mavis' was exposed, lying on the floor 
of the bathroom, her legs thrown wide, while Bobby 
repeatedly slammed what Prudence knew was a fabulously 
long and hard penis into the woman violently.

"Stop making so much noise!" ordered Prudence in a loud 
hissing voice. "The children will think the house is 
HAUNTED!" Then she pulled the door closed firmly and 
turned around to face an astonished Meg.

"You... you... you" stuttered Meg, who had also seen 
what was going on inside the room, and whose knees were 
so weak that she knew she was going to have to sit down 
on the floor any second.

"Oh be quiet," said Prudence, her own knees not all 
that sturdy at the moment. "Go do something that will 
make some noise." She looked around and, for lack of 
any other idea, began moving chairs away from the 
dining table.

***

Mavis was experiencing many of the same feelings that 
Rachel had felt that very afternoon. She had, indeed, 
liked hard pounding sex in those short months that she 
was able to have it, and her husband had been a lusty 
lover too. Truth be told, hard pounding sex was the 
only kind of lovemaking that Mavis had any experience 
with. 

It is quite possible that that was why, when she 
suspected some kind of hanky panky was going on in the 
bathroom, that she did not suspect that full marital 
sex was taking place. It had always been quiet in the 
bathroom when one of the women was in there with Bobby, 
and in Mavis' experience, a woman just wasn't quiet 
when she was stuffed full with a hard penis.

She was also multi-orgasmic, something else she assumed 
all women were like. She was on her third mind-blowing 
orgasm when the bathroom door opened and Prudence's 
pale visage appeared, looking upside down to Mavis, as 
she had said what she had said. The words had 
registered with Mavis, along with something in her mind 
that suggested she should be horribly embarrassed, but 
she was at the very breaking point of that third 
orgasm, and when the door closed, it was as if she had 
permission to finish it, so she did.

She fell limply back to the floor just in time to feel 
Bobby tense, and to hear his soft sigh, as she was 
suddenly filled with his warm essence.

As that feeling of hot sperm filled her belly, Mavis' 
conscious mind came back, hat in hand, begging to be 
let back into control. It was slightly battered... a 
little disheveled... and nowhere near as cocky as it 
had been half an hour before.

Mavis, like Rachel, felt whole again. Her conscious 
mind began whispering that she knew better, and that 
she shouldn't have done this... shouldn't have let this 
happen. It told her that this would ruin everything she 
had built up. She looked up at Bobby's face, his eyes 
tightly closed, a grimace of ecstasy stretching his 
lips tight across his teeth as his prick gave a final 
spurt of lovely hot sperm. 

His eyes opened and his head dipped, his big, liquid 
eyes locking with hers as his prick gave that final 
spurt. He let his head droop to give her a kiss that, 
after the violent pounding he had given her, was so 
tender that it brought tears to her eyes.

In that split second, she knew that she had to find a 
way to prevent this from ruining everything. Again, her 
conscious mind was told to "Be quiet, and let me 
think." Instead of thinking, though, she kissed him 
back.

Of two minds now, Mavis had a silent conversation with 
herself as they finally separated. She groaned as she 
sat up. The floor had been hard and unyielding, and she 
felt like her bones had been required, as they met 
Bobby's ardent thrusts, to take a lot of the force of 
his magnificent thrusts. As he got to his knees, her 
eyes went to his penis, which now looked much more like 
it did when the women led him out of this room. Her 
eyes went to her own sex, which was drooling his spend 
out onto her dress.

"You're in a real pickle now." whispered her conscious 
mind, knowing what that dress would look like if she 
put it back on. Another part of her mind was replaying 
what had happened when the door opened... what Prudence 
had said when she saw... what she saw. That part of her 
mind suggested that Prudence's reaction wasn't quite 
what the conscious part of her mind would have expected 
it to be. She shook her head, unused to arguing with 
herself like this. She wondered fleetingly if she was 
going mad.

Bobby stood and reached down to pull her up. When she 
stood she just came naturally into his arms. Half her 
mind said to push him away, and the other half laughed 
and suggested that hugging him back was the most 
sensible thing to do, considering what had just 
happened.

Then there were a few kisses. Finally she pushed him 
away.

"Is this how every bath you've taken has gone?" she 
asked.

Bobby smiled, but shook his head.

"But they went something like this?" she insisted.

He nodded, still smiling.

Mavis stood there, naked and wet. For lack of anything 
better to do she got a towel. Bobby took it away from 
her and dried her. Half her mind told her to make him 
stop, while the other half loved being pampered. When 
he was done she took the towel and dried him in return.

She picked up her dress, which was, indeed sodden where 
she had lain on it. Her ears registered scraping sounds 
outside in the dining room, but she ignored them. She 
couldn't think. There was something warm running down 
her thighs and, without thinking, she wiped at it with 
her dress, making it even worse.

"I don't know what to do." she said to herself.

As if by magic, the door opened again, only a few 
inches this time, and a slim arm appeared holding a 
fresh dress. Nothing was said, and the arm just stayed 
where it was until Bobby reacted and took it from the 
hand on the end of the disembodied arm. The door was 
pulled closed quietly.

Mavis was aware that what had just happened was very 
important somehow, but she couldn't think very clearly 
just yet. She took the dress when Bobby handed it to 
her and mechanically pulled it on. She suddenly saw her 
shoes lying a few feet away, and wondered when in the 
world they'd come off her feet, and who had taken them 
off. She shook her head again and then realized that 
Bobby was standing patiently, still naked.

"Aren't you going to get dressed?" she asked.

He shook his head and pointed at the door.

"Oh yes, they always bring you out naked, don't they?" 
She shook her head again. This was crazy. She couldn't 
just walk out the door with him and act like nothing 
had happened.

"On the other hand," said the other half of her mind, 
"what else are you going to do?" 

She opened the door and stepped through it.

Prudence was sitting where Mavis usually sat, and was 
mending the same shirt that Mavis had abandoned to take 
Bobby to the bathroom. She didn't look up. Meg was, 
mopping the floor where the dining room table had been, 
but no longer was, for some reason. It, along with the 
chairs, had been pushed away to clear the floor she was 
now mopping.

Meg looked at Mavis, and then Bobby, who was walking 
behind her. Her eyes went to the open door of the 
bathroom and she dropped the mop to hurry to the door. 
Mavis turned around and watched as Meg scooped up the 
sodden dress she had abandoned, and came out with it, 
pushing it into the basket, under the children's dirty 
clothes. Then she reclaimed her mop and began mopping 
the same spot she had been mopping when Mavis and Bobby 
exited the bathroom.

"Get something to wear Bobby," said Prudence, like it 
was any normal bath night. "And then off to bed with 
you."

Mavis stared around her as if she were in a foreign 
place, where nothing she saw made any sense at all. 
Footfalls came from the staircase, and Sally and Donna 
came into view.

"What took you so long?" asked Prudence, looking up 
from her mending.

"Oh, June Bug wanted to be told a bedtime story," said 
Sally, smiling. "So Donna and I made one up."

Donna looked confused. "I still don't understand how 
you knew she wanted to be told a story."

Sally waved a hand. "I checked on her and she looked 
unsettled. I asked her if a story would help and she 
nodded, like Bobby. You know, she's getting almost good 
enough at her letters that she'll be writing notes like 
Bobby too pretty soon. Won't that be nice?"

Mavis realized her mouth was open and closed it.

Donna looked at Mavis strangely. "That isn't the same 
dress you had on earlier... is it?"

Prudence laughed. "Mavis found out how exuberant he is 
about his baths. She had to change. Now she knows how 
Meg felt when she got all wet."

"Oh," said Donna. "Well, surely somebody could teach 
him not to splash so much." 

Mavis had the urge to blurt out that Donna could give 
it a try next time, but she couldn't get it out because 
Donna went on.

"And what in the world happened down here?" she asked 
gesturing at the furniture and Meg with the mop.

"The floor under the table hasn't had a good cleaning 
in a while," said Meg sensibly. "I hope the noise 
didn't disturb the children. I just had a hankering to 
do it once I thought about it."

Mavis' mind had been going ninety miles an hour as she 
took in what was going on. Prudence, obviously, and 
Meg, probably, knew exactly what had happened in the 
bathroom. Now that she looked at Meg, she knew it was 
Meg's arm that had supplied the new dress. And the 
uncharateristic story telling episode suggested that 
Sally had kept Donna... the only woman in the house who 
hadn't yet given Bobby a bath... upstairs while Mavis 
did what she had always done when she was being 
loved... made noise. And these two had made noise to 
cover her own.

She looked at Meg, her eyes wide. "Thank you Meg," she 
said. "That was very thoughtful of you."

Meg smiled. "You're welcome. It was needed." She 
smiled, a little nervously.

Mavis tried to keep the flush she felt building from 
showing, and turned to face away from the rest. "Well, 
the whole place needs a good cleaning, but perhaps we 
could wait on the rest until tomorrow."

"Yes, it would be much too noisy to do anything more 
tonight," said Prudence, her eyes firmly on the shirt. 
She giggled.

"I don't know about you all," said Donna, getting her 
coat off the hook, "but I'm going home. It's been a 
long, hard day. I can't wait to get into bed."

She looked up, startled as three women started 
laughing. Mavis, feeling something loosen inside her, 
joined them. If Donna had been listening closer she 
might have detected a note of hysteria in that 
laughter.

"What in the world is WRONG with you all?" asked a very 
puzzled Donna. "What did I say?"

Meg waved her hand. "Nothing. We're just tired. You 
know how you get giddy sometimes when you get tired? 
That's all it is, I'm sure."

Donna shook her head, unable to help but smile as the 
women kept giggling. 

"Let me get my coat and I'll walk with you," said 
Prudence, wiping her eyes. She bustled around and then 
the two women left, closing the door on sudden silence.

Whether it was by unspoken agreement, or just because 
the women were too embarrassed to talk about it, 
nothing more was said that night. At least not among 
the women. Meg took Bobby upstairs to his room and, 
when he was tucked in she stood and looked at him.

"Where did you learn to do that, young man?" she asked. 
Bobby reached for the paper that was on the table 
beside his bed, but Meg stopped him. "I didn't actually 
mean to find out." she said, sitting on the edge of the 
bed. "Was it fun? What you did with Mavis?"

He nodded energetically and she sighed. "I've never 
done that." she said, as if confiding to a girlfriend. 
"I'd be scared."

Bobby took his arm out from under the blanket and 
reached to stroke Meg's cheek. It was obvious he was 
saying he'd be gentle with her. She giggled.

"I just bet you WOULD like to teach me how to do that. 
You're horrible."

Bobby shook his head.

"No, I know you're not horrible. But I don't know if I 
want to give you another bath or not now." she teased. 
"If you did to me what I saw you doing to Mavis I'd be 
black and blue for a month."

Again he stroked her cheek gently.

"Don't count on it buster." she said sternly. But she 
kissed him long and hard before she left the room.


CHAPTER TEN


The next day was Saturday, one of the two days Donna 
and Prudence were off. In theory Sally and Meg had two 
days off during the week, but in reality they took time 
off only if they had something else to do. Most weeks 
they worked the same seven days as Mavis did. Families 
didn't take days off. That was the way they looked at 
it.

Mavis got up early, as usual. Saturdays were like any 
other day to her. She expected her hips to ache, like 
they usually did, but she felt fine. In fact, as she 
thought about it, she felt wonderful. The memory of 
what had happened in the bathroom rushed back upon her 
and she felt heat in her chest. She'd forgotten how 
good that could feel. As she dressed she wondered how 
anyone could forget that feeling.

Meg was at the stove, and already had bacon frying.

"Morning," she said. "Sleep good?"

It was an innocent greeting... one they had shared 
hundreds of times. Mavis was suddenly suspicious there 
was a deeper meaning to the question though.

"Fine. Just fine." she said in her usual semi-gruff 
voice.

"That's good," said Meg, who appeared to be thinking of 
something else. It was obvious that the only added 
meaning to her greeting had been added by Mavis 
herself, and she felt bad about that.

"Actually, I slept like a log," she said. "I haven't 
slept that good in twenty years." There. She had called 
attention to it herself. Now if Meg had anything to say 
she could just say it.

Meg's greeting had been automatic and unthinking. She 
had been thinking about the few seconds she had seen 
Bobby, hunched over Mavis, his hips driving forward 
hard enough to shake Mavis' whole body. Mavis' arms had 
been spread wide, lying limply on the floor, her legs 
also spread wide, but up, pointing at the corners of 
the ceiling. Her body had jiggled as Bobby pounded into 
her. Mavis' veiled reference to that broke through her 
concentration and she looked at Mavis, actually seeing 
her for the first time that morning. She looked 
remarkably fresh... almost younger somehow.

Meg didn't actually want to talk about it. If things 
just went on the way they were she'd be happy enough. 
Talking about it would lead to decisions, and she was 
afraid about those decisions.

"What do you want me to say?" she asked.

Mavis didn't want to talk about it either, to be 
truthful. She had NOT meant for any of that to happen. 
The fact that it had still puzzled her. If she'd been 
born and raised in Louisiana she'd have believed 
someone had used Voodoo, or a magic potion on her or 
something. And Meg, young though she was, was a good 
woman, and a good friend. Something else she didn't 
want was for this to tear them all apart.

"I don't know, Meg. I don't understand any of this." 
she finally said. "That wasn't me in there last night."

"Well pardon me," said Meg, looking straight at her. 
"It sure looked like it was you."

"You saw?" something shriveled up inside of Mavis and 
she felt shame.

"Only a little," said Meg. She wanted to say "I never 
saw anything like that before!", but instead she said 
"It was... interesting." She turned back to the bacon.

Well, that wasn't exactly an indictment, thought Mavis. 
"What I meant was that I didn't mean for that to 
happen. I don't even understand HOW it happened."

Meg sighed. "I know. It was the same with me. One 
minute I was just washing him, and the next thing I 
knew my dress was on the floor." She darted a look at 
Mavis to see what her reaction was to that. Mavis was 
staring, but she didn't look angry.

Mavis had to admire the woman for being so forthright 
in a tense situation. Rather than go any deeper she 
tried to re-enforce the bond between them.

"Well thank you again for getting me a dress. I'd have 
looked like a drowned rat wearing the old one out." 

"What are you going to do?" asked Meg, more interested 
in the bacon than any bacon deserved.

Mavis didn't want to think about that either. 

"I don't know." She sat at the table, suddenly tired. 
"I just don't know."

Meg turned full on to her boss. "Please don't make him 
leave Mavis. I promise I'll never touch him again, but 
please don't make him leave." There were tears in her 
eyes.

Mavis realized the depth of feeling Meg had for the 
boy. Then she thought briefly about the depth of 
feeling SHE had for the boy. Then she thought about the 
fact that, after what he'd done to her... with her... 
last night, it was simply ludicrous to think of him as 
a boy.

"I wasn't thinking about you," she said. "I was 
thinking about me. If last night was anything to gauge 
by, if I let him stay around here there will be 
pregnant women to deal with."

Meg's eyes got big. "But Sally and I haven't done THAT 
with him. We only touch him... and he touches us, of 
course, but that's all. Only Prudence let him..." She 
trailed off as she realized she had spilled every bean 
she had in her bucket.

Mavis was shocked. She had just assumed that all the 
women had done the same thing she had done. She didn't 
know if having the facts changed anything or not. She 
remembered quite clearly when her own husband had taken 
her WAY past the line she'd set for them when they were 
courting. Then she concentrated on what Bobby had done 
with her. 

She couldn't think of a single thing he'd done that she 
hadn't asked him to do, or helped him do. Well, there 
was the fact that he'd undressed her. And, of course 
there was that first feel of his mouth on her. That had 
been a surprise. But then all he'd done was wash her. 
It had been Mavis Milleson who had pulled him out of 
the tub, and onto the floor, and between her legs. All 
he had done was give her what she so desperately 
needed.

Mavis looked up at Meg, who was still standing and 
staring at her. Her carefully tended bacon was smoking 
now, and would be burning within a minute.

"Tend your bacon, dear. I don't think I could live 
without him now either."

The two of them managed to keep all the rest of the 
talk about normal things during breakfast. Sally was on 
pins and needles during breakfast, and kept darting 
glances at Meg and Mavis. As usual, though, she didn't 
say much. 

After breakfast Mavis got the carvings and took them to 
the cabinet maker. He turned them over and over in his 
hands, peering closely at the one Bobby had done, and 
then at the other one.

"You saw him do this?" he asked.

Mavis nodded. "Took him several hours. I know the lines 
aren't perfectly straight, but it's nice, isn't it?"

The man looked up. "I had to work for ten years as an 
apprentice before I could do work this good. Does he go 
to that school?"

Mavis nodded.

"He's free in the afternoons, isn't he?"

When Mavis nodded again he went on. "I can teach him. 
Don't need to be able to talk to learn, right? And I'll 
pay him too. If he does work like this he could make 
ten, twelve dollars a week."

Mavis' jaw dropped. "That much for just half a day?" 
she gasped.

The man nodded. "They's people what have money Mrs. 
Milleson, and they want good work. And when they get it 
they'll part with some of that money. I'm backed up on 
good carving work. I could keep that boy busy for a 
year if I had him full time."

Mavis took another bag of wood chunks home with her, 
thinking about the fact that, in the catalog, a 
lawnmower cost twenty dollars these days. And that was 
for one with a grass catcher that attached behind the 
reel!

***

Quite often Prudence came to the house on both weekend 
days. With her husband gone, she had little else to do. 
Donna spent her days off rattling around on the farm, 
doing who knew what.

So it wasn't odd for Prudence to show up after 
breakfast that day, and to pitch in. Saturdays were 
lazy days and the children weren't required to get 
dressed until lunch if they didn't feel like it. 

She sashayed into the room, swinging her hips. Meg and 
Sally were sitting in the parlor, with some of the 
children who were listening to a morning radio program. 
The other children were scattered in the kitchen or 
dining room, playing with each other.

"Where's Mavis?" she asked.

"Gone to the cabinet maker's with Bobby's carving," 
said Meg, still thinking about her conversation with 
Mavis that morning. She hadn't talked to Sally about 
it. Things were still up in the air.

"Oh," said Prudence. "How about Bobby?"

"He's carving at the kitchen table. Why?" asked Sally.

"I need his help over at my house. I'm moving furniture 
around," said Prudence with a completely straight face.

"Oh," said Sally. "Well go ask him. I'm sure he'll do 
it."

Both Meg and Sally were engrossed in the radio program 
when Prudence and Bobby put on their coats and left. 
They were perfectly capable of hearing a problem with 
one of the children, and a wrong sound would break 
right through their concentration, but the normal 
sounds of two people leaving the house didn't register 
a bit.

Neither did Mavis' return.

"I'm back" said Mavis, setting down the heavy bag of 
wood chunks. "And I have good news. Where's Bobby?"

Meg waved a hand toward the kitchen and, as soon as her 
coat was off, Mavis went in. She found his carving 
table, the tools lying on it, and examined the horse. 
The upper part was done and now the horse looked like 
it was leaping up out of the wood. It was exquisite. 
But she couldn't find Bobby anywhere. She went back to 
the parlor.

"Meg, I can't find Bobby. Where did you say he was?"

Meg looked up and blinked. "Oh, I'm sorry. Pru came 
over and needed him to help her move some furniture."

Mavis put her hands on her hips. "And you believed 
that?" she demanded.

Meg frowned. "Of course. Why wouldn't I?"

Mavis frowned back. "You've been to her house. She has 
a bed that will only fit into the bedroom one way. She 
has a settee and chair that are both so light that one 
of the children could move them. Just what furniture do 
you think she needs help with?"

Mavis' tone of voice made Meg felt guilty for some 
reason. "I don't know. She just said she needed help. 
Why are you yelling at ME?"

"Because," Mavis said patiently, "the only furniture 
he's helping her move is her bed."

"But I thought you said it would only fit in the 
bedroom one way," said Meg, confused.

"Up and down," said Mavis, clenching her teeth.

"Oh," said Meg, frowning. Her eyes went wide. "OH!" she 
yipped. "But that's not FAIR! It's MY turn!" she said. 
Then she clapped her hand over her mouth and closed her 
eyes.

"Oh, we're taking turns now, are we?" asked Mavis 
sweetly.

"It's not what you think," said Meg. "It just seems 
like it would only be fair to take turns."

"In that case it's probably MY turn," said Sally, who 
both women had forgotten all about. "I've only had one 
turn and since then you two AND Pru have... well... had 
a turn."

"This is insane," said Mavis, sitting down. "We're 
talking about the boy like we own him or something. And 
to make it worse we shouldn't even be doing anything 
with him in the first place."

"Are we hussies?" asked Sally meekly.

"No" said Meg resolutely.

"Yes" said Mavis. "Of the worst kind."

"But I love him Mavis." whined Meg. "How can it be bad 
if I love him so much."

"You have lust for him Meg," said Mavis calmly. "That's 
all it is. Your biological clock is ticking and your 
body wants to have babies, and that makes you lustful."

"Is that what happened to you last night?" asked Meg, 
sticking her chin out.

"Probably," said Mavis, even though she knew she was at 
the upper edge of her child bearing years.

"He makes me feel all warm and mushy inside," said 
Sally, staring off into space.

"So, if you don't love him" said Meg, "then you 
wouldn't miss him if you sent him somewhere else, 
right?"

"I probably should send him away," said Mavis.

Meg stood up. "You send him away and I'm going WITH 
HIM!" she shouted.

"DON'T SEND HIM AWAY" cried Sally.

"You should know better too Sally Winston!" yelled 
Mavis. "You're even older than Meg!"

"Well, I'm not as old as YOU, and all I do is TOUCH him 
a little. YOU probably MADE A BABY WITH HIM!" yelled 
Sally.

"WHAT ARE WE FIGHTING ABOUT?" screamed Meg, her face 
red.

There was a moment of silence and Mavis grunted. "We're 
fighting about a man." She sat back down. "Look at 
us... fighting about a man like school girls."

"Can't we just share?" asked Sally. "I wouldn't mind 
sharing."

Mavis looked at her like she was crazy. "Women don't 
share men, Sally. It just isn't done."

"Well why not?" asked Sally. "He's the first man to 
notice me, or be nice to me, or make me feel good. I'll 
probably never get married. I'm not pretty like you and 
Meg. Why can't I have a baby of my own?"

Mavis leaned back in her chair. "When did we start 
talking about having babies? When did you decided you 
wanted to be a mother?"

Sally looked confused. "I don't know. I never thought 
about it until I realized he might be making babies in 
other women. All I know is that he makes me feel 
special, and I want to make him feel special too. And 
if I have to share him... then fine. At least I'll have 
a man in my life part of the time."

Meg sat up straight. "She's got a point Mavis. Think 
about it. Bobby's an orphan. He can't get married until 
he's seventeen. But when he DOES turn seventeen, don't 
you think some woman is going to snap him up? Can't we 
just let things go on as they have until then?"

Mavis shook her head. "He's mute, Meg. No woman is 
going to want to marry him."

Meg stuck out her chin again. "Well I would."

"Me too!" chimed in Sally.

Mavis' mouth opened and closed several times. She 
thought about what it would be like having Bobby around 
as a husband, instead of as one of her charges. That 
wouldn't be a bad thing in any sense of the word.

"Well I'll be damned," she said.

"Mavis!" chided Sally.

"You'd do it too, wouldn't you?" said Meg. "Admit it... 
you'd marry him too!"

Mavis shook her head. "I guess I would at that," she 
said. "Listen to me! An old woman like me, saying she'd 
marry a boy like that. I must be crazy."

"Did you feel like an old woman last night?" asked Meg 
slyly. "Or this morning either?"

Mavis didn't answer. She threw up her hands. Then she 
laughed. "I almost forgot the news I have." She laughed 
again. "And that news is that Bobby will actually be 
able to support a wife!"

She told Meg and Sally about the cabinet maker's offer 
of employment. 

***

Social relationships have always been a murky subject. 
Society sets up various rules of behavior, some 
unwritten, and some codified by laws and statutes. Then 
the members of that social group play the game of 
seeing how many of those rules, statutes and laws they 
can stretch, bend, or even ignore. There are various 
reasons people do this, and discussing that that would 
take up too much room in an already long story. 

Just think of it like when you're at a stop light at 
two in the morning, and there's no traffic in sight. 
You ask yourself why in the world you should obey that 
light. It's there to regulate traffic, but you're the 
only traffic around, so you feel justified in ignoring 
it. You look around, and weigh the risks of violating 
the rule. Then you make a decision on what to do. For a 
whole lot of reasons you may decide to blow the light, 
and feel completely justified in doing so.

With the unwritten social relationships the rules 
aren't as clear to begin with, and the urge to break 
them is even stronger when personal gratification is 
involved. As far as they were concerned, none of these 
women had prospects for satisfying their natural 
urges... other than with Bobby. All had had a taste of 
what he could provide them. In some part of their 
minds, they looked around, weighed the risks of 
violating the rules about something that could be 
called "monogamy", but wasn't quite that, and of 
engaging in a sexual relationship with an almost-man, 
and out of wedlock to boot. 

The pull to keep tasting that glorious pleasure with a 
man they loved caused them to ignore the rules and do 
something they would never have done in other 
circumstances.

They huddled, making decisions about how things would 
be arranged so that each of the women got a chance to 
be alone with Bobby. Prudence would have to just live 
with what they decided, since she had pulled a fast one 
and spirited him off. There was no doubt in any of 
their minds that the only furniture Bobby was, in fact, 
currently moving, was Prudence's bed. They didn't know 
what they'd do about Donna, and decided to cross that 
bridge if and when they ever came to it.

***

About the time that Prudence was being discussed in the 
Milleson House, the subject of discussion was having 
her sixth orgasm of the day. Bobby had fucked her 
almost senseless, and had, indeed, given the bed 
springs a good workout. He had spurted in her twice 
already, and was about to unload again. Good food, and 
exercise had built his stamina up. The attention paid 
to him by all those women had built up his libido. He 
was highly successful in the role he was currently 
playing, and Mr. Maslow would have discussed putting 
him firmly on level four of his pyramid. At least 
insofar as he rated in the little community that was 
Milleson House.

When they got to her little house and Prudence got him 
naked, he experimented with her. He remembered seeing 
Sally's almost hairless pussy, with her pouting pussy 
lips that had looked so tasty looking. Two of the women 
apparently liked his taste, and he was curious to find 
out if he'd like a woman's taste. So, when Prudence had 
lain back in her bed, with her legs spread, urging him 
to hurry, he had crawled on the bed at her feet and 
kissed his way up her legs. She had giggled at first, 
then told him he was tickling her. When he got to her 
thighs, her comments went something like this:

"Oooo Bobby that tickles."

"Bobby!"

"What are you doing Bobby?"

"BOBBY!"

"BOBBY YOU CAN'T DO THAT!"

"BOBBEEEEE!!"

After that she had mostly gurgled, instead of talking, 
because Bobby had found out that he liked the taste of 
"woman" just fine. And having his lips and tongue right 
there, sliding all over her sex, it was no time at all 
before he found the little nubbin that made her writhe 
and scream like she was going crazy, except he could 
tell that it was good-crazy, and not bad-crazy. 

He paid particular attention to that little bump from 
then on, and she had two of her four orgasms before she 
ever got his prick in her. He noticed, after the first 
one, that the little bud was extra sensitive, and that 
if he used the flat of his tongue on it while she 
caught her breath, her fingers were soft in his hair. 
Then, as her fingers got more demanding, he went back 
to suckling and rode her to another jerking, babbling 
response.

He also experimented with her in other ways. When he 
got his prick in her, he tried sliding in and out of 
her the way that Mavis liked it... hard and fast. But 
Prudence made him slow down, saying he was being too 
rough. He found out that she liked it like Rachel liked 
it, slow and deep, and while he was deep she liked him 
to move his hips around. He was a smart boy, and 
realized that when he did that, that little lump of 
flesh that had driven her so crazy when he sucked it 
would be flattened and rubbed. Knowing that led him to 
experiment with the best possible way to flatten and 
rub it with the base of his cock.

That resulted in two more orgasms for Pru, and one for 
him.

They lay there for a while as Prudence talked about her 
childhood, and about meeting the man she thought would 
make her happy, and how he had betrayed her. Bobby 
listened, and bestowed little kisses on her chin, and 
neck, and chest as she talked. Then she had to get up 
to use the bathroom. She was proud of her body, and 
wasn't embarrassed to display it to Bobby, who watched 
her hips rise and fall as she walked away from him, and 
the bounce of her breasts as she walked back toward 
him. She was delighted to find him hard again when she 
got back in bed.

Prudence, being loved like she had never been loved by 
her cheating husband, told Bobby about her desire to 
have children and informed him that what they were 
doing made babies. Bobby had never quite connected 
those particular dots before, and the realization that 
he might be making a baby resulted in his second 
orgasm. His seed flushing into Pru's womb got her off 
again.

There had been some more cuddling, but then Pru decided 
that she'd kept him longer than she should have, and 
that the others would be suspicious. So she got him out 
of bed and decided to clean him up before he got 
dressed. 

That resulted in another erection and Pru couldn't 
resist him when he pushed her back to the bed and 
covered her body with his one more time. This time he 
fucked her hard, but not fast, and she responded to 
that combination quite well. She squealed her way 
through her sixth cum and, thinking of babies, Bobby 
drove deep one last time and fountained into her 
already sperm-packed womb.

He left her lying there, spread eagled and limp. He 
dragged a blanket over her nude body and kissed her on 
the forehead. She had fallen asleep while he dressed.

***

When Bobby got back home, everything looked the same. 
The women were performing various tasks, and the 
children were engaged in various forms of play or 
relaxation. But the mood in the house was different. He 
could almost smell that difference. 

Mavis smiled at him and asked him if he'd done his 
chores for the day. He set about getting them done. 
Then he went to Mavis and pantomimed that he was going 
to take a nap. His life at Milleson House had made him 
healthy, but he had worked hard to make Prudence 
squeal, and three orgasms in the space of a couple of 
hours took its toll on him.

Mavis watched him trudge toward the stairs.

"She's a greedy little thing." she said, under her 
breath.

Mavis, Meg and Sally had decided that the days at 
Milleson House should go on as they always had. The 
routine was set, and the welfare of the children was 
more important than satisfying their lust. But nights 
were something else again. What did it matter if Bobby 
slept in his own bed, or one of theirs? And, that 
solved the problem of Donna finding out what was going 
on. 

Since Prudence was off on Saturdays, Bobby could just 
continue to visit her at her house. She lived on the 
outskirts of town, and it was unlikely that anyone 
would notice him going there. Even if they did, they'd 
just assume he was carrying some message from Mavis or 
whatever.

The only other problem was that Mavis knew quite well 
that she was a noisy lover, and that, in the still of 
night, her moans, cries and shrieks of pleasure might 
carry upstairs. She didn't know what she was going to 
do about that, but was firm in her resolve to control 
that problem.

All three of the women were sure that, knowing they 
would have an outlet for their passions, they could now 
just let Bobby take his own bath. 

It wasn't a bad plan, as far as having been made by 
women who had let their emotions control their 
thinking. They only made a few mistakes, which they 
cannot really be blamed for. 

The first was that they didn't sit Bobby down and 
explain things to him. While they might have been able 
to ignore certain moral rules, none of them could quite 
bring themselves to sit and calmly discuss with Bobby 
that he was now their private gigolo. That he was a 
willing partner suggested that he would adapt to the 
new plan. 

The second problem was Rachel, about whom they did not 
know. Rachel, as it turned out, was a very fertile 
woman. She too had let her emotions rule her behavior, 
and the point at which she decided to bestow her 
virginity upon her shining knight may have been 
advanced by the fact that she was ovulating at that 
time of the month. Her hormone levels helped her make 
her decision. 

Her exuberance in rewarding the man who saved her life, 
resulted in her womb being awash with his sperm, and 
the two eggs her body had produced as a result of the 
stress of the attack on her found that sperm perfectly 
acceptable. Rachel was going to bear Bobby's twins, and 
that fact was going to become obvious in about three or 
four months... painfully obvious in five or six.

The third problem was Donna. It was actually problem 
number three that reared its head first. But before you 
learn the details of that, you must be provided with a 
few more details. They will help illuminate what later 
happened with Donna. 

Meg and Sally had offered Mavis the first night with 
Bobby. She chose wait until Monday night, and truth be 
told, she waited a whole two nights because she wanted 
to anticipate it. She also spent odd moments making 
preparations for her tryst. She hadn't told Bobby about 
the cabinet maker's offer. She wanted to do that as a 
reward for what she knew he was going to reward her 
with, later in bed.

When Monday night came she was almost beside herself, 
waiting for Donna and Prudence to leave. Prudence had 
not been told what was going on either. Mavis had 
decided that Prudence should be punished for being 
greedy. Then, when the two women went home for the 
night, the children had to be put to bed. She decided 
to let Meg and Sally do that. When June Bug and Emily 
both took one of Bobby's hands, so that he could put 
them to bed, she gritted her teeth and simply said 
"Bobby, when you're done with them I'd like to talk to 
you." She felt a blush creeping up her chest. "In my 
room, please."
 
Mavis went to her room and then couldn't decide whether 
to undress and put on her nightgown, which she didn't 
plan on sleeping in this night, or to just wait. She 
fiddled with the thing she had made out of strips of 
cloth from the bundle of clothing that was used as 
spare fabric to make things with, or use in repairs. 
She tried it out for possibly the fifth time and felt 
silly. She hoped it would work.

Then she felt, more than heard, her door open, and he 
was there.

She self consciously hid the thing in her hands behind 
her back by putting both hands there. As a result her 
breasts thrust out at Bobby. She could already feel her 
nipples tightening and extending. Even though she was 
much better prepared for this event than she had been 
the first time, she felt her resolve to keep control 
slipping.

"Bobby," she started, somewhat breathlessly. She spoke 
to him as a man, and not the boy she was charged with 
housing. "Sometimes it gets lonely in here at night. I 
was wondering if maybe you'd sleep here tonight... 
instead of your own bed."

Bobby felt his prick thicken immediately. He liked 
making love with Mavis. He liked making love with all 
of them. Each was slightly different, in her own way, 
but all were easy to please and it was so much fun 
pleasing them. She sounded nervous, and the way she had 
phrased her invitation made it clear that she felt like 
there was the possibility that he'd reject her. That 
would be unthinkable. He smiled and nodded.

There was a moment of awkwardness while they both just 
stood, waiting for the other to do something. Bobby, 
used to responding to instructions, generally waited to 
do anything until he knew what was expected. Here, 
though, he felt a little more secure. He stepped 
forward and reached his fingers to the buttons of her 
dress. He didn't need to look at them to undo them. 
Instead he looked into her eyes. They seemed wet, like 
she was getting ready to cry and she bounced on the 
balls of her feet, her hands still behind her back. 

When he was able to push the sides of the dress apart 
and bare her breasts, he let his fingertips drift 
across them with a feather light touch, ending up under 
them and lifting them a little. Mavis closed her eyes 
tightly. Her breathing was ragged. She jerked as his 
fingers left her breasts and went to the bun she 
usually wore her hair in. He pulled the pins, picking 
at the hair until it fell to her shoulders.

She kept her eyes closed, savoring each new feeling as 
his fingers brushed the dress off her shoulders. She 
had to let go of what was in her hands to get it off, 
but then clasped it tightly again. She was glad she'd 
made it. She knew she would need it. She felt her 
panties being dragged down and felt his breath on her 
hairs. She couldn't suppress a sound that forced its 
way through her throat as he kissed her abdomen. Then 
she felt his lips drift upwards, and her nipples grew 
almost painful as his mouth got closer and closer to 
them.

Her groan, as he sucked the first one in, filled the 
room.

"Get... undressed now... Bobby." she panted. "I need... 
to be... in bed."

As soon as his lips left her she turned and leapt for 
the bed, which she'd turned down already. She wiggled 
into the middle of it, on her back, her legs already 
spread. She'd had enough foreplay and she wanted him in 
her. The thing she'd made was in her left hand. She 
still felt silly about that, and she shoved that hand 
under her pillow. Then she turned her head to watch, as 
his beautiful strong young body was exposed.

"Oh please" she moaned, seeing his stiff member, ready 
to fill her. "Oh please, oh please, oh please" she 
begged. She wasn't begging him, exactly, she was 
begging that this happen before she had a stroke or 
something. Her body was taut as a fiddle string, her 
hips rising to meet him and he wasn't even there yet.

Bobby knew what that pleading meant, though. He wasted 
no time once he was naked and went to the bed, climbing 
straight on top of her. Holding himself up he let the 
tip of his prick descend until it bumped her hair. She 
was moving so much it would be impossible to find the 
spot. Both her hands were up by her head, one under the 
pillow, the other gripping the pillow, so he held 
himself up with one arm and fisted his cock with the 
other hand. Watching for the right moment, he let his 
hips drop and, at the instant he felt heat kiss the tip 
of his penis, he let go and lunged forward.

Mavis felt the shock of her emptiness being so suddenly 
filled that it was like magic. He went deep and his 
skin slapped hers. The orgasm she'd been so close to, 
just from the anticipation, flared brightly as her 
whole body seemed to vibrate. She snatched her left 
hand out from under the pillow and stuffed the inch-
and-a-half thick woven rope of cloth she'd braided 
between her teeth, biting down hard as her shriek of 
completion burst out of her lungs.

It came out as a muffled "EEEEE" sort of sound, high 
pitched, with a little "Mfph" sort of sound thrown in 
several times as she fought to keep her mouth closed on 
her gag.

Bobby, able to recognize by now a woman in the throes 
of ecstasy, grinned and pushed harder, wiggling his 
hips back and forth. As soon as that long drawn out 
"EEEEEE" softened, he began pounding Mavis like he knew 
she liked to be pounded.

He was rewarded with three more "EEEEEE's before he 
shot her full of his spunk.

Mavis woke up twice that night, her gag still clutched 
convulsively in her left hand. She woke him both times, 
pulling him between her welcoming legs. By morning her 
gag was wet with her saliva. 

It wasn't until then that she remembered to tell him 
that he had a job.


CHAPTER ELEVEN


The four colluding women had planned for Bobby to have 
Tuesdays and Thursdays off, to give him a chance to 
rest, since each of them was quite sure he'd get little 
sleep on the nights he was with them. Of course they 
didn't know about Rachel, and what she did with him on 
the afternoons she kept him after school. 

The depth of her passion for Bobby had frightened 
Rachel a little. When she was under him she felt 
helpless, but safe at the same time. He was her Hero, 
and he'd let nothing happen to her. But being helpless 
was also a little scary for an independent woman. To 
prove to herself that she was still in control of her 
destiny, she decided that twice a week... Tuesdays and 
Thursdays, oddly enough... should be enough for any 
woman. 

It's quite likely, according to some doctors, that as a 
result of keeping five women full of his teenaged 
spend, Bobby's sperm count was a little low for maximum 
fertility. Perhaps that's why nobody else got pregnant 
until April. Of course it's also possible that their 
planning was responsible for that too. While Rachel 
didn't think about her ovaries, all the others did.

But we're getting ahead of the story. You still need 
more information.

Wednesday night now belonged to Sally. She got that 
first Wednesday by simple virtue of complaining that it 
was her turn. While she deferred to Mavis, she wanted a 
chance to explore this new thing in the comfort of her 
bedroom, and she wanted to be next. Wednesday night, 
when they were putting the children to bed, Sally 
sidled up to Bobby and whispered in his ear.

"When you're ready for bed, come to my room." She 
blushed at, what to her, was her brazen invitation. 
What followed could safely be called... tumultuous.

She was horrified at herself for waiting for him stark 
naked.

She was amazed that both her mouth and her pussy were 
soaking wet.

She had no idea what she was going to say to Bobby when 
he showed up.

She didn't need to say anything. Bobby had been hoping 
to be with Sally again. He couldn't get those fat, 
juicy pussy lips out of his mind. Prudence had tasted 
wonderful. He was sure Sally would too. When he got to 
the room he simply started undressing, looking at her 
naked body as she stood beside the bed. Like Mavis, she 
looked nervous. 

Like he did with Mavis, he held her and kissed her 
before they got into the bed. Like Mavis, she wanted to 
be in bed with him, lying down comfortably. Once there, 
her hand found his hardness as she kissed him again, 
squirming at the warm pleasure of his skin against 
hers. She had been too nervous to properly appreciate 
the feel of his skin before, in the bathroom. 

This was MUCH nicer.

She felt his fingers sliding down her side, to her hip, 
and then between her legs. No man had ever touched her 
there. She held her breath, pressing her lips against 
his with a hunger that astonished her. When his finger 
split her pussy lips and probed to find the little bump 
he knew would be there somewhere, she groaned, her 
breath gushing into his mouth.

Bobby pushed himself up, rolling Sally to her back. She 
had a sudden attack of panic. He wasn't going to.... 
No, she wasn't ready for that!

"Bobby" she panted. "You can't." She pushed at him. 
"I'm a virgin Bobby."

Bobby didn't know that word, or what it meant. What he 
was thinking about was those full lips that he wanted 
to kiss and taste. She was upset about something. That 
he could hear in her voice, but surely she wouldn't 
mind if he licked her down there. Prudence had loved 
it. And she had told him he couldn't do that too. 

He paused, looking into Sally's eyes calmly... more 
calmly than he felt inside. He kissed her chin, and 
then her chest between her flat breasts, and then he 
teased her nipples with his tongue until they stuck out 
enough to suck into his mouth. When he did that he 
could actually feel them get larger in his mouth. Sally 
moaned and squirmed under him. She had stopped saying 
he couldn't do what he wanted to do.

He kissed her abdomen, not knowing that the nervous 
receptors between her skin and her ovaries were 
hypersensitive. He didn't know what an erogenous zone 
was, and neither did Sally, really. Her stomach sucked 
in at the shock of the tingles. You could have poured 
water into that concave area and it wouldn't have gone 
anywhere.

Then he couldn't wait any more and he climbed between 
her legs. Her few wisps of hair were no barrier as his 
hands found her thighs and pushed them apart. He felt 
resistance, and Sally lifted her head off the pillow, 
looking down at him.

"Bobby, what are you doing Bobby?

He showed her what he was doing as she sucked in air 
and her belly went concave again. First he sucked at 
those plump lips, sucking them into his mouth. They 
were fleshy and firm. Her hips thrust up off the bed, 
but he remembered how Prudence had done the same thing 
and was ready for that. His mouth rode her and he 
dropped to his elbows, cupping her bony buttocks. She 
was delicious.

Then he feasted.

For Sally, the world suddenly jerked, and seemed to 
turn ninety degrees to one side. Not only had no man 
touched her between her legs, but she had never really 
touched herself there either. She had all the normal 
hormones in her body to create the state of being 
aroused, and she had been aroused before. But she 
hadn't know what to do about it. She suffered through 
those bouts of frustrated horniness and eventually they 
went away. 

When she had offered her nipple to a cranky baby, she 
had received the first sexual stimulation in her life 
that involved the touch of another human. Bobby had 
been the first boy or man to kiss her. His lips on her 
nipples had brought her, her first orgasm. When she 
realized that he had gotten up to suck them again, 
rather than just ravish her, her panic abated. She was 
ready for an orgasm now from those sweet sucking lips.

And then he had stopped sucking. True, his lips on her 
stomach were wonderful, but she wanted them to go back 
to those aching nipples. 

Instead, they had gone between her legs. If she'd have 
had time to think about it, she might have rationalized 
that, if a woman could put her mouth on a man's sex 
organ, it didn't seem like much of a stretch for him to 
put his mouth on the woman's sex organ. 

Of course she didn't have time to reflect. She forgot 
all about where her mouth had been, and she stared 
unbelieving as he leaned in and made the world jerk. 
She took in a breath, and it froze, deep in her lungs 
as he sucked at her pussy lips. Her head hit the pillow 
and her back arched automatically and she felt his 
hands on her naked buttocks. Then he let her nether 
lips go and gave his face a funny little side to side 
wiggle and his lips found that same little spot that 
his finger had teased not so long before.

When he sucked on that, Sally thought she might 
actually die from the pleasure of it. Her overworked 
intercostal muscles relaxed and her breath gushed out 
in a babbling moan, a series of nonsensical sounds. The 
sounds stopped as she dragged in a fresh breath, and 
began again immediately as it was expelled. Panic 
flicked at her like tiny whips striking her body as she 
realized that surely no mere human being was allowed to 
feel this kind of ecstasy. 

Then, what she now realized was an orgasm, washed over 
her and she flopped, her arms bouncing off the bed, and 
her head twisting from side to side. She felt her legs 
come up off the bed, her knees bent, as they spread 
apart of their own volition and the orgasm shook her 
bones. Her heels thumped into the center of his back as 
her thighs crushed his head between them, but still he 
sucked and licked and teased her clit.

To preserve her sanity, Sally willed her legs to open 
again, and pushed at his head.

"No more!" she gasped. "No more." Great wracking 
breaths whistled in and out of her lungs as Bobby 
lifted his shiny face, grinning like he'd been told the 
funniest joke he'd ever heard. Then he dropped his head 
and kissed those lips, getting another spastic jerk out 
of her loins as she begged him to stop.

He pushed up and sat back on his heels. Sally looked at 
him and her eyes were drawn to his erection, which had 
a string of silver hanging from the tip. She licked her 
parched lips and wanted to taste that drip of silver 
more than anything in the world. 

Finding reserves of strength she didn't think she had, 
she sat and rolled, lifting her right leg to get it 
past him. She fell to the floor and scrambled up, not 
feeling the bruises that would show in the morning. She 
suddenly felt stronger than the mythical giants Meg 
read about to the children and she reached out to push 
Bobby to his back, where she had just been lying. Then, 
with an almost feral growl, she leapt on the bed and 
her mouth captured that stiff column of flesh.

For a few seconds Bobby was afraid she was going to 
bite him. Her teeth raked down his shaft and he winced, 
but then her lips sealed on him and she pulled up, 
sucking. His prick left her mouth with a sound as she 
slurped and then swallowed.

"I want your juice." she said, her voice sounding 
deeper. "Give me your juice."

Then she went back to sucking him. Her hands slid down 
his hips and under them, to pull him up against her 
face and his prick slid past the point where her gag 
reflex was located. She was so surprised that the 
instantaneous gagging feeling was gone before her body 
could react to it. She could feel him in her throat and 
she loved that feeling. She pulled up and gagged again 
as the tip of his penis slid past that point again. But 
she was so excited that she thrust her face down on him 
again, fighting the gag reflex by pure will until she 
felt his soft brown hairs tickling her nose. 

She felt the urge to sneeze, and pulled off of him to 
cough until the urge was gone. Her hand gripped him and 
stroked while she rested and watched as the head of his 
prick was uncovered and then covered again. She sucked 
the head, still stroking and heard his groans with an 
elation that thrilled her. When the first rush of 
warmth entered her mouth she swallowed it, and then 
dove down on him again, pushing her nose into his 
pubes.

That didn't work so well. Bobby kept spurting, but she 
couldn't swallow because her throat was full of prick. 
She had another brush with panic as she choked and 
pulled up off him to cough again. His white spend 
splattered all over his abdomen as she coughed, but the 
choking sensation was gone and she was able to swallow 
again. His penis was running with milky white and she 
closed her mouth over it to suck it clean, reveling in 
his taste. Then she licked up all the splatter as he 
panted.

Afterward, lying quietly with him was so wonderful, his 
warm body under hers, his fingers tracing small circles 
in the middle of her lower back, that Sally's eyes 
filled with tears that ran happily down over her nose 
and dripped on his chest. She wished this night would 
go on forever.

Like Mavis, Sally woke in the night. Her waking was 
different, though. She had been dreaming, but couldn't 
remember the dream. Then she became aware of Bobby's 
warm body under her. When he was clean, she had crawled 
up on top of him, to lie on him. for hugs and kisses, 
and they had fallen asleep that way. She wondered at 
how good it could feel to lie on top of something so 
hard as a body, but she loved it. 

She listened to his breath as he slept. Her face was 
down in his neck, and that was a little uncomfortable. 
She wiggled down toward his feet so she could lay her 
face on his chest, which was a good idea. That put her 
pussy lips right on his soft penis, and that felt 
wonderful too. She couldn't resist the urge to rub 
against it, trying to make it touch that wonderful 
special spot he'd made her feel so good with. 

The kerosene lantern had gone out, but there was a full 
moon that night, and its white light flowed in through 
the window. As she rubbed her pussy back and forth on 
that lump she could see his face. His eyes opened.

"Hi" she said, feeling foolish.

His loins tensed and pushed up against her.

"You like that?" she whispered. He nodded and she said 
"Me too."

She felt him getting hard, and that was even better. 
She wiggled until her fat pussy lips split apart and 
rode along his lengthening rod. She felt electric 
tingles shoot through her as her clit came into direct 
contact with his cock.

"Ohhhh yes I like this." she murmured. 

On the upstroke she leaned down to kiss his lips 
softly, before she rode that long hard thing back down 
towards their feet. She set up a rhythm of doing that, 
sliding forward for a kiss, and then back away from his 
face. Her nipples scraped along his chest, and that 
felt good too. She suddenly realized she could have an 
orgasm this way too, and her speed increased. Her pussy 
got slick and wet, and that just made it all feel even 
better. Her movements got faster and it was inevitable 
that she slid forward enough to slip down off the head 
of his prick and onto his abdomen. When she rocked 
back, his prick nosed into her pussy mouth and stuck 
there.

"MMMM!" she said as she felt pain. But it was a sweet 
pain. She lifted up and slid back down his shaft, and 
this time slid forward off of him on purpose. She 
pushed back, feeling his penis prod her open pussy and 
she felt the pain again. She knew enough about sex to 
know that his penis was supposed to fit inside her. 

She honestly hadn't thought about actually doing that. 
She was completely satisfied with what they did 
together. But this strange pain was addictive somehow. 
She knew that if she pushed hard enough, it might go in 
her a little more. She doubted that her small body 
could take that thing fully into it. Surely she was 
smaller down there than her throat was.

But it felt so nice to push against that blunt slippery 
head the produced such delicious pudding. So she 
rocked, and she pushed, and she rocked, and she pushed, 
and then, unexpectedly, the head popped through that 
pain, causing the pain to increase to a sharpness that 
wasn't pleasurable.

"Ohh owwww!" she complained. It wasn't fair that 
something so nice should hurt so much. 

She rocked back forward and the pain vanished, to be 
replaced by a dull ache. She lifted up and slid her 
clit down his shaft, pleased that the tingling feeling 
was back. Again she rocked too far forward, and pushed, 
and the head slid into her again. The pain wasn't so 
sharp this time, though still uncomfortable. 

Then his prick spat, and her pussy tunnel was filled 
with warm spend. She knew instantly what it was. She 
knew instantly that his pudding was going inside her. 
He grunted and his hips lifted, and she felt more warm 
fluid inside her. She wiggled, loving the feel of the 
heat inside her. She realized that it had gone deeper 
and now the pain was more of a stretching sensation 
that, while it wasn't pleasurable, was not so bad. 

She wiggled some more as he grunted again. He went in 
further, but then stopped. She felt a sudden desire for 
more and pushed against his chest with her hands to sit 
up, drawing her knees up beside his hips. Carefully, 
she let her weight down and was shocked to feel that 
sack under his penis touching her buttocks.

She sat and just concentrated on the feelings. What he 
had done to her before had driven her mad. But this was 
a different kind of feeling. She could feel that spot 
tingling, but his penis rubbed the tender inner flesh 
of her body in a way that was just as good, but 
eminently more bearable. She rocked and his penis moved 
inside her, stroking her inner walls and she sighed. 

This she could do all night long.

She knew if she tried hard enough, she could have an 
orgasm doing this. But it was just as nice to just feel 
him inside of her. She wasn't aware that his prick had 
gone half soft after it filled her belly with sperm. It 
was cold, sitting up like this. The covers had fallen 
down her back when she sat up. She lay down on him 
again, reaching behind her for the covers. He gripped 
them himself and pulled them up.

With her face on his chest, and his young penis in her 
pussy, Sally Winston fell asleep on top of the man who 
had just destroyed the maidenhead she had always 
assumed would be firmly intact until the day she died.

***

Thursday afternoon, Bobby introduced Rachel to the joys 
of having a man's mouth on her sex.

She tasted wonderful too. She was awfully loud, and 
Bobby wondered if he should ask Mavis to make another 
of those cloth ropes for her, but she tasted wonderful.

***

Sally didn't tell anyone that she was no longer a 
virgin. It wasn't a topic of conversation that was easy 
to insert into their usual idle chatter. It never even 
entered her mind to confide in Meg or Mavis that Bobby 
had made her crazy with his mouth glued to her sex.

And it just so happened that Meg never saw Bobby 
leaving either woman's room in the morning, so she was 
not aware that he had spent the whole night in their 
beds.

Meg simply had no idea that the boy she'd experimented 
with, such a relatively short time ago, and who, before 
she gave him that bath, was completely uninitiated in 
the ways of sex, was now an accomplished and 
experienced lover.

Like Sally, she was thrilled with the little they'd 
done together, though to her it wasn't little at all. 
It was earth shaking to her to have been naked, in a 
bathtub, while a man's hands had roamed across her 
body, and to have taken his manhood into her mouth. 
Like Sally, she was looking forward to the comfort of 
being able to play with him in bed, her body pressed 
against his as she got hot kisses prior to sucking him. 

Like Sally, she just hadn't thought seriously about the 
mysteries full sexual intercourse. It was something 
that happened when you got married, and the man knew 
what to do. That was the extent of the sexual education 
her mother had given her. She had caught only a glimpse 
of Bobby on top of Mavis in the bathroom, and she had 
thought about that glimpse a lot. But she hadn't been 
able to see the penetration, and that was still 
something that she had no imagination for.

So Meg didn't think about inviting Bobby to stay the 
night in her bed. What she planned to do was go to his 
room, play with him and swallow his delicious warm 
sperm, and then go to her own bed.

She took Constance and Felicity to their room, 
following June Bug and Emily, who were dragging Bobby 
to theirs. Emily was complaining that it wasn't fair 
that Bobby couldn't tell them a good night story like 
Sally did, but she didn't sound all that upset. When 
she had Constance and Felicity tucked in she waited in 
the doorway to the next room while Emily hugged Bobby's 
neck fiercely and she said she loved him. Then he gave 
June Bug a kiss on her forehead while she wiggled with 
joy under her covers, before turning him over to Jenny, 
who kissed him too. 

Meg's heart almost burst, and she felt her pussy 
getting wet.

When Bobby stood up to leave and saw Meg waiting for 
him, he smiled. It wasn't a particularly special 
smile... just a smile for Meg. When he got to the door 
though, she put her arms around him and kissed him on 
the lips, a long, hot kiss.

When she had to stop to breathe she leaned back and 
looked into his eyes.

"You're a sweet man," she said.

He smiled again and his hands slid to her hips.

"I'm going to tuck you in," she said. "Would you like 
that?"

What Bobby would like to do was lie on top of this 
beautiful woman and slide his prick into her until he 
spurted. But he made no assumptions. Bobby's experience 
with women to that point in his life was completely 
atypical for most boys, and unheard of for a virgin 
orphan. In an odd sort of way his reaction to each of 
the women was to accept their sexual attention as 
simply their expression of friendship and love for him. 

Nobody had taught him that he shouldn't express 
friendship like that with more than one woman. At that 
point in his life he would happily have fucked any 
woman someone else would have classified as a "friend". 
On the other hand, he got many more opportunities to 
spurt in a woman than any other man in town, so he 
wasn't driven, particularly, to seek that with a woman 
either.

So, while he was a little disappointed that all Meg was 
going to do was tuck him in, he wasn't unhappy. Maybe 
she'd kiss him again. He liked kissing her.

He was therefore surprised when she took him to his 
room and, while he undressed, she did too.

"I'm going to stay here for a little while." she said, 
her voice husky. "I want to do what we did in the 
bathroom."

Bobby's cock sprang to full hardness instantly.

Meg's plan for the night was a very simple and basic 
one. She would rub up against him... dry this time... 
and she would suck him until he spurted, and maybe 
she'd get that tingly wonderful feeling in her belly. 
Then, happy and warm, she would go to her own bed and 
sleep peacefully. To us it sounds like a silly kind of 
plan, but Meg had no frame of reference to compare her 
plan against.

She had no idea that, when her naked body touched 
Bobby's under the covers, that the warm smooth feel of 
his skin against hers would make her want never to get 
out of the bed again. She had felt his fingers on her 
nipple in the bathtub, and just that touch had brought 
her to a climax, and now, feeling his skin against her 
legs and chest and arms she was primed to pop again. It 
was so intense that she didn't know what to do next. 
Her mouth watered for the taste of his prick, but that 
meant she'd have to get to her knees, and his warm body 
wouldn't be pressed against her any more. 

Then he started kissing her, and she suddenly forgot 
all about anything else.

Bobby's formula for getting his penis in a nice hot 
pussy was fairly basic and simple. He knew women liked 
to be kissed, and he knew what kind of kisses made them 
wiggle. He had never seen Meg's pussy lips, and it was 
too dark in his room for that, especially under the 
covers. But he wanted to taste her. So he started 
kissing his way in that direction.

Meg couldn't believe what she was feeling. Bobby's 
kisses on her lips were wonderful. She loved them, and 
could happily kiss him like that for hours. But then he 
started kissing her cheeks, and jaw and throat and she 
shivered because those kisses were so different. She 
was completely unprepared for him to close his mouth 
over her nipples and suck them. The intensity of the 
feeling all but paralyzed her and she whined, staring 
into the dark with her eyes wide open. Suddenly, the 
loss of the feel of his skin against hers wasn't so 
bad.

Meg was an intelligent woman. There were gaps in her 
education, sex being one of them, but given a set of 
facts, she could use her brain to make deductions and 
could, in most cases, anticipate an outcome. So, when 
Bobby started kissing his way down her body, stopping 
at her breasts for long enough to make her brain boil, 
and then KEPT kissing lower, across her belly, Meg had 
a pretty good idea where he was going. 

What came into her mind at that moment, was the memory 
of her favorite dog, a Beagle, named Sunshine. She had 
been ten at the time, and Sunshine followed her 
everywhere. Except one day, when she stepped out of the 
house, Sunshine wasn't there. She went looking for the 
dog and found her in the back yard, playing with Howard 
Thurston's dog, which was named Blue for some strange 
reason. Meg had seen dogs sniff each other, so that was 
nothing new. But Blue was doing a lot more than 
sniffing Sunshine. Blue was LICKING sunshine! 

As Meg walked closer she could see that Sunshine was 
LETTING Blue lick her, standing with her tail up, and 
her back legs spread. Meg looked, curiously, and saw 
that the vertical black split, under Sunshine's poop 
hole, was all swollen up. Then Blue had jumped up on 
Sunshine's back with his front paws and his rear end 
had started smacking into Sunshine's rear end and Meg 
screamed and ran to get help. When she told her mother 
to come quick because Blue was hurting Sunshine... 
well, that was when she got her lecture about what 
happened when a woman got married. Such as it was.

While Meg was remembering that incident, Bobby reached 
his target, crawled between her legs under the covers, 
and stuck his tongue in her pussy.

Meg quit thinking about Sunshine. Except insofar as she 
thought about how strange it was for Bobby to be doing 
this. People didn't do this. Dogs did this.

Then she couldn't think about anything any more. She 
wasn't sure she could remember to breathe any more. 
There was a huge sunburst of joy that was consuming her 
body... turning it to ash... except that it didn't. She 
took in a shuddering breath as the feeling began to 
fade and she could sense things about her body again. 
She could feel Bobby's cheeks between her thighs, and 
his slippery tongue against where she sometimes rubbed. 

She was delighted that he had thought to do this 
wonderful thing for her. She wasn't sure what had just 
happened. It had been so much stronger than anything 
she'd ever felt before that she wasn't sure it was even 
real. At any rate, she wanted to thank him for giving 
it to her. She wanted to kiss him again. That was how 
she would thank him. She pulled at his hair to get him 
to come up to her face for a kiss. He could always go 
back down there later.

Bobby felt her body signal that it was going through an 
orgasm. She had a big clit, that was easy to suck and 
chew on. Then he felt her pulling him up. When the 
other women had done this they were ready to be 
penetrated. His prick ached with need now. As he moved 
up he fisted it, getting it ready. He rubbed the tip 
along her inner thigh until he felt the juncture of her 
legs. Then he felt the tip slip into that familiar 
heat. 

As he kissed her lips, he pushed.

He still didn't understand virginity. When he pushed he 
felt resistance and pushed harder. With a sudden 
release he was able to power forward and sink into Meg 
clear to her cervix. Her groan of pain was muffled by 
his lips sealing hers. Her fingers scrabbling at his 
hips, trying to push that hurtful thing out of her body 
were ineffectual. Bobby, knowing how the others liked 
to have him deep inside them and moving so that it 
rubbed that special place, began to rub his embedded 
prick in circles, mashing Meg's clitty by rubbing it in 
circles too.

Meg was still coming down from her blinding orgasm when 
her body felt the invader at her sexual gates. Those 
gates still hummed with the pleasure his tongue and 
teeth had given her. When the first stretching came, 
she barely had time to recognize it when it was 
replaced by a sharp stinging pain that made her cry out 
into Bobby's mouth. 

That was instantly followed by the feeling that her 
insides were being moved around by what was forcing its 
way into her pussy. Her thighs automatically flexed 
apart, trying to ease the pressure, but now that 
pressure was deep inside her. She felt panic as her 
mind grappled with the feelings... and what they meant. 
She had no doubt what they meant, but the concept was 
something she was not prepared to think about.

She tried to push his hips away, but her hands slipped 
off his skin and she groaned again as his pubic bone 
hit her own. Tears leaked from her tightly closed eyes 
from the residual burning at the bottom of her pussy 
lips where her maidenhead lay shredded.

Then he began his circular rotation, and Meg sucked in 
another lungful of air to replace what had just been 
used in that groan. She held this in her lungs though, 
because what was happening down there now had wiped out 
all pain... wiped out her ability to think clearly. His 
lips were still on hers, and what he was doing made her 
use her tongue to find his. 

Her legs flopped, her knees hitting the mattress and 
then coming back up to bounce off of his hips. She 
couldn't hold her breath any more and her combination 
groan and whine whistled into his mouth so hard that 
some of it came out his nose. He pulled back from her 
lips in surprise and her eyes popped open. She could 
see that he was in the same position over her that he 
had been over Mavis.

This was what he had been doing to Mavis.

She didn't understand how this had happened, but right 
then she didn't care. All she cared about was that he 
kept doing what he was doing.

"Yes" she panted, her hands going to his hips now to 
help them complete their little circles.

"Ohhh yes!" she groaned. 

She began to realize there had been numbness, that was 
fading away, and she could feel his prick moving around 
inside her. She could feel her vaginal walls being 
massaged, and the tip of his cock was digging into 
something that was deliciously painful deep inside her. 
Her hips gave a convulsive lurch as he pressed, trying 
to get him even deeper and she felt the tingling 
warning that she was going to have an orgasm. She had 
been unprepared for his entry... unprepared for the 
pain... and her whirling mind reached for that orgasm 
as something she thought she knew what to expect from.

But when she reached for it, and welcomed it, its 
intensity was so much more than anything she'd ever 
felt before that it overwhelmed her and she burst into 
tears, sobbing uncontrollably as the pleasure washed 
through her body like fire. Her mind screamed that, if 
this wasn't a real orgasm, she never wanted to have 
one, because a real one would kill her.

Bobby heard her sobs and even though he couldn't see 
her face his lips felt the wet of her tears. He 
realized that her tightness meant he had hurt her and 
that fact lanced into his heart. He stopped moving, 
difficult though that was, and held himself still.

Meg's sobs continued as her hips jerked repeatedly up 
against him. When she felt him stop moving and the 
delicious sensations he was causing began to wane, her 
fingers grabbed at his hips again, trying to make him 
move.

"Oh don't stop... Mooooore!" she moaned between gasps 
for air.

Bobby was confused by her tears, and her body's 
response that signaled she liked what was happening. 
Very slowly he dragged his still rod almost out of her 
pussy and then eased back in to see what her response 
would be. Her hands pulled at his hips and her pussy 
jumped up to gobble his prick.

"Ohhhhh yessssss!" she gasped.

He set up a slow rhythm of repeating those moves and he 
heard her get better control of her breath as her 
orgasm faded slowly. Her head lifted, her lips trying 
to kiss him. She missed in the dark and got his cheek 
and he moved his lips to find hers. Hers were hungry 
and she bit his lower lip, sucking on it before mashing 
her lips against his hard and licking his tongue 
frantically. Then her head flopped back down on the 
pillow.

"Ohhh more Bobby, please more!" she moaned through her 
teeth.

His speed increased until he was slicking in and out of 
her slippery channel and his pubic bone started to 
impact her clit again. She gave a little yip each time 
that happened, which turned to an explosive "Uh!" each 
time, her grunts coming faster and faster as he sped 
up.

Then the moment was upon him and he pressed in deep to 
deliver his thick sperm into the mouth of her womb as 
she strained up against him, rubbing her clit hard 
against him.

That extended contact with her clit, and the warm bath 
he was spurting into her brought another orgasm within 
reach and she snatched for it again, almost frantic to 
see if this one would be as sweet and hot as the last. 
Her welcome turned into a long, drawn out 
"UHHHHHHhhhhhnnnnnnng!" as the fire swept through her 
again, her body jerking spasmodically under Bobby's 
weight.

Bobby sagged, letting his chest down on her breasts, 
and Meg welcomed that weight as her mind felt like she 
was floating off somewhere. There were long minutes 
during which they both just breathed. When he started 
to roll sideways, she stopped him, not wanting the feel 
of his skin to go away. She wanted more kisses and she 
found herself squeezing his softening cock with muscles 
she hadn't been aware of before this happened.

"Ooooooo, it's getting soft," she complained in his 
ear.

Meg's reaction to having sex was different than that of 
the others. Being prodded like that energized her, 
instead of making her lazy. She felt full of energy, no 
longer interested in sleep. Part of her mind was still 
anticipating tasting him, and now she pushed him off of 
her, getting to her knees under the covers and kissing 
her way down to his groin. She knew her own smell, and 
it was strong under the confining covers, but she had 
no room in her brain to think about that as she found 
his limp cock and sucked it into her mouth. 

Now she tasted the difference... her taste mixed with 
his as she suckled him happily. It felt so different in 
her mouth when it was soft, and she could play with it 
with her tongue. She liked being able to get all of it 
in her mouth at one time. His moan electrified her and 
she sucked harder, delighted that it became more firm. 
She worked and played until it was hard again, amazed 
that something so soft could get so firm.

She kissed her way back up his body, stopping to suck 
at his nipples, so different from her own. When she got 
to his lips she kissed him hungrily.

"More," she said, pulling him over on top of her.

The second time she felt him gush inside her, and that 
raging fire swept through her body again, she was 
content to lie with him, alternating between nibbling 
his ear and pressing her hot lips to his.

Finally they slept.

She awoke early, with the dawn, and now she could see 
his face. She demanded that he mount her again, wincing 
at first at the pain of his initial entry and the 
scrape of his hard prick against abused and tender 
flesh. But that pain faded quickly as she reached for 
another of those fantastic orgasms.

As he grunted for the third time that night, and his 
penis spurted its life-giving fluid deep in her belly, 
Meg knew she was addicted to this... that she would 
have to have this often, for as long as she lived.

She gave no thought at all to the fact that she was 
dead in the middle of her cycle, or that, with all the 
sperm her womb now held, it was almost impossible that 
one of them wouldn't ferlize the egg that was 
descending through her fallopian tube, and almost to 
her womb.


CHAPTER TWELVE


That morning, when Bobby appeared at breakfast, Mavis 
took him aside.

"Bobby, what you do with us in bed... do you like 
that?"

Bobby looked at her like she was crazy, and nodded, 
smiling.

"You do that with Prudence too, don't you... at her 
house?" she asked.

Months earlier Bobby would probably have tried to avoid 
answering. But his relationships with all the women had 
convinced him that what they... and he did was 
acceptable, so he nodded again.

"I'm going to send you over to Prudence's house this 
morning," said Mavis. "She doesn't know about the rest 
of us. But if we're all going to share you then she 
needs to have a place in the schedule too. Are you sure 
this is all all right with you?" Mavis couldn't believe 
she was having this conversation.

Bobby nodded again, smiling, and Mavis snorted. 

"Why I thought a man might balk is beyond me." she 
said, half to herself.

Prudence was home, wondering if she could finagle a way 
to get with Bobby again when he appeared at her door 
suddenly, with a note from Mavis that said "Saturday is 
your day with Bobby." She didn't understand at first, 
but when she looked up from the note to see Bobby 
undressing, she blushed bright red. 

"They know about us?" she asked, aghast.

He smiled and nodded.

"And she SENT you here?!" asked Prudence again, 
unbelieving.

Bobby was naked now, his prick straining toward her. He 
held out his arms for a hug.

Prudence decided not to ask any more questions. 
Dropping her housedress was simple. Getting to the bed 
without stopping to kiss him took more self control.

***


Life in Milleson House went on, much as it had in the 
past, but vastly different too. Though times were hard, 
and the war pulled at everyone's spirits, for Mavis, 
Meg, Sally and Prudence, life now had hope, and joy and 
love that made each day something to look forward to. 
While all of the women wanted to make love with Bobby 
much more frequently than once a week, all four women 
treated that experience like chocolate, or sugar, or 
any of the other treats that were rationed at that time 
in American life. 

They accepted the ache of anticipation they endured 
each time they looked at Bobby, or worked beside him, 
letting the anticipation build until it was their turn 
to lie with him and submerge themselves in his hot 
embrace and spurting penis.

That one planning session notwithstanding, the women 
were too inhibited by the rules of polite discourse to 
discuss their relationships with Bobby in the open. 
While all of the participants knew the schedule, and 
made accommodations for that schedule, there was no 
public discussion about what went on behind the doors 
that the women pulled Bobby through.

Only Donna had no idea of the underlying relationships 
that were going on. Meg or Sally continued to give him 
his bath, when it became apparent that changing the 
routine would alert Donna that something had happened. 
But now, other than perhaps a quick blow job, they 
controlled what happened in the bathroom, saving their 
lust for a time when they could welcome it with open 
arms.

The women took what they could get... gratefully and 
with vigor.

Bobby ate more, took more naps, and looked forward to 
the nights. His body strengthened as his testosterone 
levels were raised by his amorous activities. He was 
eminently qualified for the role he was asked to play.

The cabinet maker was elated with the quality of work 
that Bobby did for him in the afternoons. The fact that 
the teacher still wanted to work with him two days a 
week bothered him only because that meant Bobby 
couldn't produce quite as much of his detailed and 
gorgeous carvings. Bobby grasped the importance of 
riffle files immediately, and his carvings soon took on 
the professional appearance of a master craftsman. His 
work began to be requested, and a bank account was 
opened in his name. It took three weeks for Bobby to 
understand (and accept, really) what a bank was, and 
that he actually had money in that facility that was 
his, and which he could access for his own wants.

In short, all was well in Bobby's little microcosm of 
human relationships for the first time in his life. If 
he hadn't reached level five of Mister Maslow's 
pyramid, he wasn't far from it.

As was stated at the beginning of this tale, however, 
life is a struggle. The good fortune that had descended 
on Milleson house couldn't last forever.

And it did not.

On the seventh of May, 1945, which just happened to be 
Sally's scheduled day for hot sex with Bobby, Germany 
surrendered unconditionally to the Allied forces. The 
next day was declared Victory in Europe day and the 
whole country celebrated.

America, including those few Americans in Hampstead 
Nebraska, went nuts. 

What Americans in general did, that day, is well 
documented. What happened in Hampstead Nebraska, a mere 
footnote compared to larger events, was that Sally 
Winston, an unmarried woman of age twenty-three, lay 
with her lover, Bobby Martin, a supposedly mute orphan 
boy, and got thoroughly pregnant. The euphoria of 
Germany's surrender could be argued to have, in some 
part, been responsible. For one thing, she was joyous 
to her very core when she let Bobby spurt her belly 
full of his virile sperm. 

Some doctors claim that a woman who is relaxed and 
happy is more fertile than one who is not. For another, 
she did not think about where she was in her monthly 
cycle, which had never been regular, but which she 
still tried to guess at before she took Bobby's sperm 
into her womb. On those days when she thought it might 
be dangerous, she simply sucked down his delicious 
treat in her throat. But on this day, she was so happy 
that she just wanted to celebrate... and celebrate she 
did, getting pregnant in the process.

Germany's surrender had other consequences as well. 
Fresh troops being sent there to fight, ended up 
relieving weary combat troops, who were pulled out for 
badly needed rest and relaxation before being shifted 
to the Pacific Theater, where the war was decidedly NOT 
over. The fresh troops, and those who managed to stay 
in Germany and France, took up occupation duties. 

That created two situations that would, in time, change 
everything in Milleson House.

The first was that Prudence received official 
notification that her husband was seeking a divorce. 
She had known this would happen, and had not sought it 
herself only because she still depended on his income, 
at least to some extent. Still she was both hurt and 
angry. She assuaged her anger and hurt in Bobby's 
arms... extensively. She missed her very next period, 
which was supposed to have arrived the middle of June.

The second was that, in early June, Donna got a letter 
from her son, Wally, that said he was being given leave 
to come home. He knew he would only be able to stay for 
thirty days, and that he would have to go somewhere 
after that, but didn't know where that was. He made 
oblique mention that his two best friends, one of whom 
had saved his life, were coming with him because they 
had nowhere else, really, to go.

The celebrations carried into bed with Bobby. For 
Rachel, who know knew she was pregnant, and Prudence, 
who suspected she was in the same situation, Their 
angst about that was more easily subdued as they joined 
in the national feeling that things were looking up. 
For the rest, the euphoria about the war's end, at 
least in europe, made their time with Bobby just that 
much sweeter. Of them all, only Donna had no outlet for 
her intense joy - that her son was coming home.

It was on a Saturday, mid morning, when the excitement 
and strain got to Donna as she paced in her lonely farm 
house. She thought of things that needed to be done 
around the house, but couldn't get motivated to do any 
of them. Instead, on impulse, she decided to go visit 
Pru.

That, in itself, wasn't so strange. She had a close 
bond to Pru because she knew what it was like to lose a 
husband, even though Pru had lost hers in a totally 
different way than Donna had. She had visited Prudence 
many times in the past, but it had slacked off during 
the cold winter months. She hurried toward's Pru's 
house, anticipating taking her mind off the anguish of 
waiting for her son's homecoming by filling the morning 
with idle chat.

It also wasn't unusual for her to just open the door 
and walk into Pru's tiny house. She simply called out 
merrily as she did so.

She was completely and utterly unprepared to find Pru, 
naked, flat on her back, legs spread, with a man 
lunging between those legs as Pru moaned her pleasure. 
And as her numb mind recognized who that man was with 
his cock obviously buried deep in Pru's belly, her mind 
struggled to make sense of it all.

Two faces turned to look at her as she stood in the 
open doorway. Pru's expression flashed to one of 
horror. Bobby simply smiled his usual welcoming smile.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Donna screeched.

Prudence's face unfroze and she pushed Bobby off of 
her. She looked at her friend, who stood frozen, 
gasping for air like she had run as fast as she could, 
for as long as she could.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Donna croaked, this time, her 
voice taking on a whine.

Prudence had no idea what to say, so she said nothing. 
She put her dressing gown on and belted it to cover her 
nakedness. Then she went to Donna and pulled her gently 
into the house and closed the door.

"YOU'RE MARRIED!" yipped Donna.

This was something Prudence could talk about. "You know 
good and well that I'm not married any longer, or won't 
be soon. Don't try to make me feel bad." she said, 
defensive now.

"But... but... that's BOBBY!" squeaked Donna, staring 
at Bobby, who sat, still naked, Indian style on the 
bed, watching the two women with interest. He was 
unashamed of his nakedness, and the ease with which he 
sat there made the situation seem all the more odd to 
Donna.

"Yes, that's Bobby." agreed Pru. "Now come in and sit 
down."

"What?" asked Donna, looking at Pru for the first time 
since she'd put on her dressing gown.

"Come in and sit down," said Pru, like she was talking 
to a child. 

Donna's mind was beginning to adapt. What her eyes had 
told her was going on was so bizarre that she had tried 
to deny them. But, as she looked at Bobby her mind 
began to realize that what she had seen was real.

"You can't do that." she said, her voice a whisper.

"I already have, so you may as well not take that 
attitude," said Prudence. Her attitude about this was 
beginning to change too. Instead of shame, which she 
knew she SHOULD feel, the only thing she WAS feeling 
was fear and anger that it might be taken away from 
her.

"You could get pregnant," said Donna, reaching with her 
mind for something pragmatic to talk about.

"I already am... I think," said Prudence.

"WHAT?!" gasped Donna.

"We've been... doing this... for some time now," said 
Prudence. "And you know my husband has abandoned me. 
I'll be divorced soon. If I get nothing else out of 
this damned war, I'll at least get the baby that that 
bastard couldn't give me before he went away and found 
another woman." She felt hot with anger now. "And it 
serves him right that I'm going to have Bobby's baby 
instead of his!" she said firmly.

"But what will Mavis say?" asked Donna. This was too 
strange, and her mind flitted about, going from one 
concept to another.

Prudence thought it might be too much for Donna to 
grasp if she admitted that all the rest of the women 
were doing the same thing with Bobby. "I don't know," 
said Pru quietly. "I haven't told her yet." That was, 
technically true. Pru had not confided in anyone that 
she thought she might be pregnant.

"I don't understand any of this." moaned Donna, sitting 
down in a chair.

For lack of anything else to say, Prudence spilled her 
guts about that first time with Bobby had come about, 
and how she had gotten so excited in the bathroom, and 
was so upset about her husband's abandonment, that she 
had brought Bobby home and their relationship had 
started.

"Why didn't you tell ME?" she asked wounded.

"I didn't know how you'd react." admitted Prudence. 
"You might have complained, or forbidden us, or even 
told others."

"How SHOULD I react?" asked Donna heatedly. "Sneaking 
around behind my back like that! Having SEX with a boy! 
What were you THINKING?!" she shouted.

Prudence expected this from her friend. But her desire 
to maintain the pleasure she shared with Bobby made her 
fight to keep that.

"He makes me HAPPY, Donna!" she said back forcefully. 
"He makes me feel loved! Is that such a terrible 
thing?" she asked earnestly. 

"But... you can't just... have sex with him!" said 
Donna, her voice lower.

"Why not?" asked Pru, yearning in her voice. "Bobby 
certainly doesn't mind." She swiveled her head to him. 
"Do you Bobby?"

Bobby shook his head and smiled.

Donna looked at him in disbelief. "But he's just a 
BOY!" she said.

Prudence straightened her shoulders. "No he's not," she 
said. "He's as much a man as your son is. He'll be 
seventeen in just months. He's all man when he's with 
me."

Prudence's response made Donna think again about what 
she'd seen when she opened the door. She remembered 
something now that she hadn't realized or thought 
about. When Prudence had pushed Bobby off of her and 
he'd gotten to his knees, his penis had been long and 
straight and hard, shiny with the moisture they had 
created. He HAD looked like a man right then! She felt 
something twist in her loins as she remembered how long 
and hard he had looked. Her husband had been short, and 
never that... hard looking. That was the kind of penis 
that could easily make babies... had made one in 
Prudence, in fact.

Donna blinked, and her eyes went to Prudence. "You're 
going to have his baby?!" she said, as if she hadn't 
quite understood before, but did now.

Prudence actually smiled. "Yes," she said.

"But that's not fair!" said Donna. Her mouth snapped 
shut. She couldn't imagine where that came from.

"Why not?" asked Pru again. "I'm a woman. I wanted 
children. My husband didn't give me one. Now he never 
will. Maybe I'll just marry Bobby when he turns 
seventeen!"

"I wanted more children too!" said Donna heatedly. "But 
I didn't get them either. That doesn't mean you can 
have them with Bobby!"

"Didn't you ever look at him when he came out of the 
bathroom on bath night?" asked Pru. "Didn't you ever 
look at him as a man and wonder what it would be like?" 
It was obvious what she meant.

"Of course I did," said Donna, exasperated. Then she 
blinked again. Why had she said that? 

"I did too," said Pru patiently. "I just did something 
about it."

"What if I wanted to too?" asked Donna, suddenly angry 
that she had been left out. Her eyes got wide and she 
clapped her hands over her mouth.

Prudence felt hope for the first time since Donna had 
come into the room. "If we'd have known you wanted to, 
you'd have been included," she said. On impulse she 
turned to Bobby again. "Bobby? If Donna wanted you to 
make love to her, would you be willing to do that for 
her?"

Bobby's smile bloomed and he nodded firmly. He tried 
not to look too eager. It was obvious that Donna had 
some problem with what had been going on. This was a 
new concept to Bobby, and he wondered about her 
responses.

Donna's life had been pale and colorless after Walter 
had died. Except for her son, who then went off to war, 
she had felt like she had nothing left. She didn't know 
the ways of men, having married so young, and her life 
had been isolated on the farm until she started working 
at Milleson House. 

Coming to town every day had been something that 
brought a little color to her life, and she depended on 
that to keep her interested in life. Like many widows, 
the thought of trying to start another relationship 
seemed like it would be more trouble and pain than it 
would be worth. And she HAD looked at Bobby's naked 
body as that of a man, with tittilating unformed 
fantasies shooting thrills through her body.

That, combined with the excitement she felt about the 
war being over in Europe and her son coming home, but 
couldn't find an outlet for, is probably responsible 
for her completely uncharacteristic response to all 
that Prudence had said. That, and seeing Bobby's 
smile... the eagerness on his face at the idea of doing 
something so intimate with her.

"This is crazy." she said, her voice dull, as her mind 
tried to convince her that what she was now thinking of 
was, indeed crazy.

"I don't know about that," said Pru. "All I know is 
that Bobby makes me gloriously happy."

Again Donna thought about that long hard prick she had 
seen, and she felt her nipples tighten.

"I'd like to be happy again." she sighed.

"Bobby can make you happy, Donna." Prudence urged.

"Can he?" asked Donna, her voice young.

"Oh yes." assured Prudence. "Do you want him to make 
you happy right now, Donna?"

"Now?" asked Donna. "Here?"

"I don't mind," said Prudence, now trying to seal the 
suggestion. If Donna lay with Bobby than everything 
would just go on as usual, and she wanted that badly.

"In front of you?" whined Donna, suddenly wanting more 
than anything else to be... happy.

"I can go to the kitchen and fix us all some lunch," 
said Prudence. "You want to feel happy again... don't 
you Donna?" she urged.

"Yes." whispered Donna, looking down.

Prudence turned to Bobby. "Be nice to Donna Bobby. She 
needs to feel happy. Will you help her feel happy 
Bobby?" she asked. He nodded soberly, and not knowing 
what else to do, Prudence turned and went into the 
kitchen. There was no doorway, so she started banging 
around pots and pans, to make it sound like she was 
busy.

Bobby had admired Donna's lush figure often. At his 
age, and considering the frequency with which he saw 
naked women and got to love them, it was almost 
impossible for him not to wonder about what Donna's 
body looked like under her clothing. She had never 
approached him for sex, and he accepted that. Lots of 
other women in town spoke to him but didn't approach 
him for sex too, so he had not attempted to initiate 
anything with Donna. His lack of understanding of the 
mores of society, as they concerned a young male and 
numerous older females though, didn't stop him from 
wondering what it would be like with her.

Bobby assumed that Donna had, at last, made the 
overture he was quite willing to respond to.

Donna looked at him, suddenly unable to meet and keep 
his gaze. Her eyes darted away. Part of her couldn't 
believe she had said she wanted to enter this kind of 
relationship with him, but part of her thought it just 
might have found an outlet for her nervous energy. 
Still, she didn't know what to do. Walter had always 
come to her and flirted with her, and wooed her, 
suggesting that they have some fun. She had rarely 
initiated any sexual activity with him, and didn't know 
how to begin.

Once again, the routine Bobby had gotten into came into 
play. He was used to getting things going by disrobing 
the women. He stood, and stepped toward her. His penis, 
which had softened while the two women talked, had 
begun to refill with blood, in anticipation of being 
with Donna. It hung, not quite straight out, but rising 
by the moment. Her eyes went to that organ and watched 
it bob as he stepped toward her. She was frozen, like a 
rabbit that cowers behind a bush, hoping the wolf will 
stalk on by.

The heat in her chest grew, making her whole body feel 
hot. Her clothes felt heavy and itchy. She was 
astonished at herself as feelings of lust attacked her 
with unrelenting insistence that she deserved to 
experience that strong young penis, just as much as 
Prudence did. Part of her emotional upheaval as she 
stood there, was based on anger that her friend had 
kept this for herself, instead of sharing it with her. 
She somehow forgot completely that she was shocked by 
her friend's actions of doing something with Bobby in 
the first place.

When Bobby stood before her, and ducked his head to 
make her eyes meet his, she took a shuddering breath.

"I can't." she said weakly.

Bobby had heard this too, and in his experience, all 
that meant was that he was supposed to do things that 
would make her say "OK, now I can!" He took her hands, 
and pulled her up. He clasped her cheeks between his 
hands, and leaned in for an exploratory kiss. Her lips 
didn't return that kiss at first, but the moan that she 
exhaled told him to do it again, this time more 
forcefully, mashing his lips to hers. His tongut 
slipped out and she felt shock at that. No one had ever 
kissed her this way. It was so much more... intimate... 
than she'd ever been kissed before.

She felt his arms around her and that strong embrace, 
more than anything else, broke her frozen posture. That 
embrace brought back the feel of Walter's embrace, 
which she had liked so much. Her own hands fluttered to 
his back, and she felt his wimpled skin. She had seen 
those scars as he was dressed for bed, and her touch 
was light.

He pulled her toward the bed... Prudence's bed... where 
only moments before Prudence had lain... naked... with 
this man. He felt like a man now, and thoughts of him 
as a boy vanished in his strong embrace. Still... that 
bed was frightening. She resisted, her mind telling her 
this couldn't be happening, but his insistent pull made 
her take another step and then another. His hands 
cupped her breasts through her dress and she shuddered. 
No one had touched them in years. The tingles she felt 
made her gasp. 

He kissed her neck and she shivered again. Then he 
backed up and his fingers went to the closings of her 
dress. She stood limply, letting him make her naked as 
her mind still railed that this was crazy. But his 
hands on her naked skin blew those thoughts out of her 
mind. She could no longer think about Prudence in the 
next room, or whether this was right or wrong as the 
passion exploded in her loins and he lay her back on 
the bed.

Her last shred of resistance blew away on the winds of 
her passion as he put his mouth on her aching nipples 
and insistently pushed at her so long-unused sexual 
opening, and slowly penetrated her. It felt like he 
went in forever and, as his hairs mingled with hers, he 
kissed her again.

Her knees jerked up reflexively and he ground against 
her. Donna's initial response was to just go limp as 
she was overwhelmed by memories and physical feelings. 
Her muscles turned to jelly, and she lay there 
luxuriating in the feel of a hard bone in her pussy 
after so long without one. She lay limp, just 
concentrating on the feel of what she was experiencing 
deep inside her. It was when she realized just HOW deep 
inside her she felt those things that she realized how 
different Bobby's prick was than that of her aged 
husband before he died. 

Bobby touched in places she'd never been touched 
before... ever. When his prick tried to push its way 
through her cervix she didn't feel pain, like the other 
women did. Her cervix had passed a baby through it, and 
something inside her was ready to do that again. Her 
cervix welcomed that intruder and opened for it as the 
tip slid into the small hole.

She gasped as he withdrew almost all the way out of her 
and then, every so slowly, slid back in.

Then her muscles awoke, first among them her lungs, as 
she grunted as her cervix was penetrated again. Her 
arms came up and wrapped around her lover now, and her 
head strained to lift so she could see with her own 
eyes where they were joined. She pushed his chest away 
from her breasts and he straightened his arms, looking 
at her curiously.

"I want to see," she panted, looking.

He drew out for her, that long hard thing that she 
quite suddenly realized she was going to want to feel 
in her again. Her legs came up then, wrapping around 
his as she pulled him back into her. She couldn't tell 
when it happened, but somehow he was suddenly slicking 
in and out of her rapidly and smoothly. She was so wet 
that she made horrible noises where they were joined, 
but she didn't care. That was because she felt the 
orgasm approaching that she thought she might never 
have again. 

It hit her and she welcomed it, relishing in the feel 
of something so long gone in her life. He kept going 
and she realized he wasn't going to stop as quickly as 
Walter had. That thought made her think that, 
impossibly, she might be able to feel that gorgeous 
feeling one more time before it was all over and she 
had to stop doing this.

"Uhhhhhhh," she moaned as she reached for it and found 
it, tugging it along and pulling at his hips. Somehow 
he knew to push in and stay there, where it felt soooo 
good. Her pussy clenched and released during her cum. 
With shock she heard his grunt and felt heat deep 
inside her. She knew that feeling, but not in the 
amounts he was supplying and again she was shocked at 
how different he was from her departed husband.

Bobby held still as his prick continued to spurt into 
her, and he leaned down to taste her lips, his favorite 
thing to do as his penis delivered its cargo. Now she 
gave him her tongue back as, frozen together, their 
muscles began to relax, more and more, until he lay 
fully upon her, their lips still crushed together. hr 
hands went to his hair and she pulled his face even 
harder to her.

"I told you he'd make you happy." came Prudence's quiet 
voice, only a foot away.

Donna's eyes flew open and she broke the kiss, turning 
her head.

"You said you'd stay in the kitchen!" she gasped.

"I know, but I couldn't help it. I had to see what it 
looked like when he makes me feel that way," said 
Prudence. "I'm sorry."

Donna exhaled, not feeling the shame she expected to 
feel. "I saw you," she said. "I guess I can't 
complain."

"Thank you," said Prudence, turning away, going back to 
the kitchen. "It was beautiful." As she went into the 
doorway her head turned, and over her shoulder she said 
"He isn't finished yet. Not unless you want him to be."

Donna looked up at Bobby, who was smiling down at her, 
his liquid brown eyes staring deep inside her.

He began to move again, and she felt an unaccountable 
joy welling up in her as she realized that, indeed, he 
wasn't finished.

She experienced that unaccountable joy for the next 
three Saturdays, as she visited Prudence's house, and 
they shared Bobby's love together.


CHAPTER THIRTEEN


On the seventh of June, there was a field trip for 
everyone in Milleson House. The women made up a picnic 
lunch and took it to the train station to support Donna 
as she anxiously waited for the train that was bringing 
her only son back home to her. 

Mavis had a moment of deja vu as she saw the smoke from 
the locomotive on the horizon, though she couldn't hear 
the zinging of the tracks this time due to the large 
crowd on hand. Most of the town was there, because this 
train would have a lot of soldiers on it. There were no 
less than thirty-two men who fought in the war, and 
came from Hampstead, Nebraska.

Rachel was even there, embarrassed as she was about the 
now noticeable swell of her belly, that had announced 
to the town that she had been indiscrete. Some people 
thought that perhaps her rapist got much farther with 
her than she had admitted. Others thought not, and that 
one of the married men had dallied with her, though 
there was no evidence of that. 

While there were no known suspects, an awful lot of 
women kept an eye on their husbands that day, watching 
to see if there was anything that looked like guilty 
communication between the harlot and their man. Her 
welcome, and the warm thoughts of most of the 
townspeople toward her after the attack, suffered 
greatly when it became known she was with child.

But Meg and Sally had insisted that she come, and they 
protected her from the snorts of the women by simply 
proclaiming that they were jealous. Rachel hadn't 
admitted anything to anyone at all, but knowing that 
Bobby went to her house twice a week, and knowing 
Bobby, they had their suspicions.

Finally the train came into view, far down the tracks. 
The five piece band, made up of a battered tuba, a 
bugle, a drummer, a clarinet and a fiddle, struck up a 
cacophony that was energetic, if not in tune, playing 
"Over There" to the best of their ability. They were 
playing it for the fifth time when the train groaned to 
a hissing halt and the doors opened.

There was a hush of the crowd, and men, blinking in the 
bright sunlight, began stepping out of the coaches.

Bedlam ensued.

Two hundred and thirteen mothers, fathers, brothers, 
sisters and other relatives, as well as neighbors, 
roared their approval, drowning out the poor band, 
which finally gave up because they couldn't hear 
themselves playing. There was a surge and the men were 
surrounded, beaten half to death by well meaning slaps 
on the back and hugs that crushed them. Men were hugged 
and kissed by women they didn't know, or weren't 
related to. All the hoarded excitement of VE day was 
brought back and burst from those people and saturated 
the soldiers.

Donna, who had seen a man she thought might be Wally, 
struggled through the crowd, using her elbows like they 
were weapons, until she stood facing a tall, thin man, 
now almost twenty-two years old, who looked enough like 
her seventeen year old little boy that she was sure it 
was him, but who was a stranger as well.

"Wally?" she said, her voice high and strained.

"Hi Mama." he said with a toothy grin.

Then he couldn't move because he had his mother wrapped 
around him like a boa constrictor. When she was finally 
pried off of him there was a stain where her tears had 
wet his shoulder. Then he got hugs from women he had 
known existed, but had never actually paid any 
attention to, as Meg, Prudence, Sally and Mavis all 
took their turns with more gentle and polite hugs, but 
smiles just as big as his. Donna babbled, trying to 
introduce them all. Rachel stayed back with the 
children, who, at the uproar, had huddled around her 
instinctively, looking around in wonder and not a 
little fear.

Things calmed down a little bit and Wally looked 
around, spotting the two men he loved more than any 
other in the world, possibly more than even his own 
father's memory. They were both standing awkwardly, 
talking to complete strangers nearby. He waved at them 
and they shuffled toward him, nodding and thanking the 
people who had welcomed them, even though they'd never 
been in this town in their lives.

"Ma" said Wally, as the two men arrived in the little 
group. "This is Ralph Carter" he gripped the arm of the 
taller man, who had very dark hair and a scar across 
one cheek, "And this poor excuse for a human being is 
Jimmy Franklin." Jimmy was shorter than both Ralph and 
Wally, appeared older and had blond hair. "Ralph here 
saved my life when we went ashore on Omaha beach in 
France. All three of us have been together ever since."

Donna looked at Ralph, who was obviously embarrassed to 
be the center of attention. She moved to him, took his 
face in her hands and, oblivious of the fact that he 
was almost the same age as her son, kissed him firmly 
on the lips. When she pulled back, he had a dazed look 
on his face, and licked his lips.

"Thank you," said Donna with great dignity.

Ralph swallowed visibly. "Ma'am," he drawled with a 
southern accent. "You are most certainly welcome."

Then it was off to the picnic. When Donna apologized 
for all the children being dragged along both Ralph and 
the soft spoken Jimmy said that it was one of the 
nicest things that had happened to them since they got 
back.

The women of Milleson House had no designs on the 
soldiers. They were there just as a show of support for 
the returning heroes and for Donna's sake. They tended 
the children, feeding them and tried to keep them out 
of Donna's hair so she could talk to her son and his 
friends.

The men, however, were quite interested in those women. 
They had been gone for almost four years and the women 
they had seen, as Jimmy would later describe them, were 
"beaten down, starved, and would do anything in the 
world for a bar of chocolate." The men had felt sorry 
for them, but in most cases the women didn't speak 
English either, and just didn't appeal to them in a 
blatantly sexual way. Besides that, the unit they were 
in was on the move constantly as the battles progressed 
and Germany was penetrated.

Now, though, on a warm June afternoon, back in America, 
the vibrancy of these women electrified all three 
lonesome soldiers. It was easy for Donna to see as she 
plied them with questions.

The first thing she learned was that after their 30 day 
leave, which everyone in the whole company had been 
compelled to take, they would ship out to the Pacific 
Theater of Operations. They boasted that they would do 
in Japan what they had done in Germany. Donna was 
shocked by the seriousness they showed when they talked 
about that. During those moments they were grim men, 
despite their youthful appearance.

Ralph was only a year older than Wally and from Texas. 
He had been notified that his parents had died of 
tuberculosis while he was overseas. His sister and her 
husband were holding down the fort in Brownsville and 
he wanted to get home for a few days before they got 
shipped out again if he could figure out a way to get 
there.

Jimmy was twenty three and an orphan. When Donna heard 
that her eyes got round and she excitedly explained 
about Milleson House. She pointed out Bobby as their 
oldest and newest charge and described how he had 
showed up. Without another word Jimmy got up and went 
to talk to Bobby, even before Donna could explain that 
Bobby couldn't talk.

***

Meg and Bobby were feeding children sandwiches and cole 
slaw when Meg saw the shortest of the three men who had 
gotten off the train together walking towards her. His 
eyes were on Bobby, and she wondered what was 
happening. When he arrived he stood, casting his shadow 
on Bobby, who looked up, his head turned.

"Miz Pratt says you ain't got parents," he said 
abruptly. Then he smiled, his teeth white against his 
face. "Me neither. Joined the Army when I turned 
seventeen just to get out of the place they had me in." 
He stuck out his hand.

Bobby almost spoke. He took in the breath, and his 
unused vocal chords vibrated as he tried to introduce 
himself. He clamped it off in a panic, and all that 
came out was a guttural rasp. His hand, which had been 
rising to meet Jimmy's faltered and fell back in his 
lap as he darted a glance at Meg to see what she would 
do at the sound he had made.

Meg looked up. "Bobby can't talk. There's something 
wrong, and we don't know what it is," she said.

Jimmy looked startled, and sat down. "'S Okay" he said, 
holding out his hand again. "We're still brothers, you 
'n me, far's I'm concerned."

Bobby grinned and shook the offered hand vigorously.

"Bobby's doing fine," said Meg, smiling at him. "He's 
even employed. He carves wood. He's doing very well 
indeed. We try to take good care of him." She pinked up 
just a little at that last statement as she thought 
about just HOW they took such good care of him.

Jimmy scratched his head. "I imagine I'd be doing just 
fine too if I had a bunch of beautiful women taking 
care of me." He grinned to show he had no salacious 
thoughts. He was pretty good at covering for the fact 
that his thoughts were all salacious at that point in 
the conversation. Meg was a good looking woman, with 
fine thrusting breasts, and no ring on her hand to show 
she was taken. She was, perhaps, an inch taller than 
Jimmy, but that didn't matter to him in the least. "I 
never would have tried to run away if there had been 
ladies like you around." he added.

Meg responded the way any other woman would have 
responded in that situation. She was pleased. But, like 
any other woman, she didn't want to APPEAR pleased. Not 
blatantly anyway.

"Why mister... why I don't even know your name!" she 
said, with a little giggle.

"Jimmy Franklin, ma'am, at your service." he said, 
extending his hand to her too. He looked over at Bobby. 
"You ain't claimed her yet have you?" he joked. 
"Wouldn't want to horn in on a brother."

Bobby blinked. While he was adept at some adult 
actions, at least in the bedroom and with tools in his 
hands, he had no social basis on which to draw in this 
situation. Had he had time to think about things, he 
might have figured it out, but Meg's outburst shattered 
his concentration.

"Why Mister Franklin, you are embarrassing me! I don't 
believe I've met such a forward man in my entire life!" 
Her response was based on mixed emotions. Her first 
thought was to protect Bobby. She was quite sure that 
no one outside Milleson House would understand or 
appreciate her relationship with him. By now she knew 
she was pregnant as well... had lost the flat plane 
that used to be her abdomen in fact. 

When she was dressed that slight bulge wasn't 
noticeable yet, and she'd let out her dresses to 
camouflage that rounded belly, trying to delay the 
inevitable scorn that would be sent her way as soon as 
the townspeople knew her condition. At the same time 
she was flattered at attention from a grown man, and 
she wasn't prepared to deal with that eventuality. 

She hadn't spent much time thinking about normal 
relationships, because they had seemed so far away. She 
can't be blamed for the fact that the men, like Jimmy, 
who would normally have pursued her, were all off at 
war. What complicated things was her urge to dismiss 
him forthwith, avoiding the inevitable disgust he'd 
reveal when he found out she was with child... while at 
the same time craving his attention.

Jimmy looked back at her with a very frank... and very 
adult appraisal. "Ma'am, it would hurt me to my very 
bones to cause you pain. I shall withdraw if that would 
ease your concern."

His sudden change to dignified... and surprisingly 
educated speech, threw Meg another curve ball. It so 
startled her that, instead of accepting his offer to 
withdraw, she blurted: "You needn't withdraw, sir... 
merely behave." It came out as a mild admonishment, 
rather than the dismissal she knew was for the best.

Jimmy, unable to behave on the instant, grinned and 
said "I'll behave if it will let me stay near to you, 
that's for sure." Then he blinked. "I don't imagine it 
would be too forward to ask your name... would it?"

Now Meg blushed again. "I'm sorry. Where are my 
manners? Meg. Meg Johnson. Happy to meet you mister 
Franklin," she said.

"I'd be tickled if you'd just call me Jimmy," he said. 
Then, throwing her yet another loop, he turned back to 
Bobby. "So, iff'n you can't talk, how the heck do you 
get by?"

Bobby whipped out a sheet of paper from his pocket, 
along with his pencil stub, and scribbled quickly. Meg 
heard squabbling and saw that Patrick and Jerry were 
arguing over the last sandwich. She went to resolve the 
matter. When she looked back, Jimmy and Bobby had their 
heads together, and Bobby was writing more.

***

When Donna saw where Jimmy had gone, even though she 
couldn't hear the conversation, she saw him stick out 
his hand and eventually get it shaken. She turned back 
to her son and his remaining friend.

"Well, with Meg right there I doubt we'll be seeing 
much of him for a while." she said, half joking.

Wally laughed. "I remember her, but not like that."

Donna turned to Ralph. "And what about you? A handsome 
man like yourself must have a girl somewhere, right?"

Ralph looked morose. "There was a girl back home, but 
she got married while I was gone." His eyes drifted to 
Prudence, who was playing catch with Terrence. 

Donna saw where he was looking and her lips thinned. "I 
don't think she's the one for you," she said. "Her 
husband was over there with you boys and he dumped her 
for some French tart. He even sent her divorce papers. 
I don't imagine she's got much patience with soldiers 
right now."

"Man must be off his feed to abandon a woman like 
that," said Ralph, half under his breath. Like other 
men, he let his eyes drift across Sally, but not light 
on her.

Donna nodded. She wanted to talk to Wally some more, so 
she tossed off something to get off the subject. "Well, 
I'm sure there will be a dance in honor of your return. 
You could ask her to it, but don't be surprised if she 
throws something at you." Then she turned back to her 
son and began peppering him with questions about where 
he'd been, and what he'd seen, and how he was and so 
on. 
 
Unnoticed by either his best friend, or his best 
friend's mother, Ralph stood up to take a walk. His 
walk took him vaguely in the direction of one Mrs. 
Prudence Watson, soon to be divorced.

***

The object of Ralph's interest missed a wild throw of 
the balled up sock that the children often played catch 
with. It had been made heavier by rolling three more 
socks up inside and then folding the outside sock down, 
twisting it and folding it over the lump again. What 
resulted was between the size of a hardball and 
softball, and if it hit you it didn't hurt. She 
twisted, reaching as the "ball" sailed over her head 
and to the left, and saw the sock caught by one of the 
soldiers who was with Donna's son. She saw it was the 
tall one, with the scar on his cheek. He held the sock 
out to her.

"Thank you." she said, somewhat stiffly. What she saw 
most was his uniform... the same uniform her husband 
had been wearing when he left her.

"Ma'am?" came the man's deep voice... much deeper than 
George's voice. She looked up again. "I just wanted to 
say how sorry I am about how things turned out for 
you."

"What?" asked Prudence, astonished.

"Wally's mom explained what happened with your husband 
and all, and I just wanted you to know that not all of 
us behaved like that over there."

Prudence was horrified that this strange man knew about 
her... situation. The first thing she thought of was 
the fistfuls of hair she was going to pull out of 
Donna's head the first chance she got. She was so mad 
she sputtered, unable to say anything.

Ralph held up his hands. "Now don't get all riled up, 
Ma'am. I'll leave you in peace. I just wanted you to 
know that hard as things was over there, a man would 
have to be plumb loco to abandon a woman like you. 
That's all. I just wanted to say that."

Ralph Carter was not a sophisticated man. He was from a 
culture where a man said what he meant, and meant what 
he said. Most times, whatever it was that was said 
wasn't held against a man either, as far as that went, 
whether people agreed with him or not. He, too, had 
left home when he was young, being eighteen on the 
seventh of December, 1941, and since then his world had 
been that of men. He didn't put on airs, and what he 
had done to save Wally's life he would have done for 
any other man. He didn't know how to talk to a woman, 
especially a woman as beautiful as he thought Prudence 
Watson was. So, having said his piece, he turned around 
and walked back towards his friend.

Prudence sat, dumbstruck. The man had paid her a 
compliment, strange as it might have been. And then he 
had just walked away from her. As mad as she was at 
Donna, something in her wished that the man had stayed 
a little longer. Then she decided that she would just 
have yelled at him, and something in her was glad he 
HADN'T stayed, and that she HADN'T had the opportunity 
to heap all her scorn on him.

"PRU!"

Her concentration was fragmented by Terrence's 
insistent call for her to throw him the sock again. 

This time she was the one who threw wildly.

**

Wally answered all his mother's questions as his eyes 
roved over the scene, drinking in the normality of it. 
Battle had been terrifying, and he had almost broken 
under the strain, like many other men. Seeing his 
friends die had hardened him in some ways, and had made 
him reflect often on the meaning of life. As his mother 
peppered him with questions, his eyes lit on the blond 
woman who was reading a book to a group of smaller 
children. She sat awkwardly, her legs folded under her 
and to one side. She was obviously pregnant and, like 
many pregnant women, she was beautiful in a way that 
tugged at a man's heart. 

Unknown to his mother, Wally was not a virgin. While he 
had been in temporary billets, waiting for his 
troopship, certain that he was going off to die, he had 
taken a walk in the biggest city he'd ever seen in his 
life. He'd been approached by a whore, offering him 
something he'd never had before. She too had been 
pregnant, though not so much as the woman he was 
looking at now. His first impulse had been to scorn the 
whore, but as he looked through the dirt on her 
unwashed face, he saw a girl, about his own age, down 
on her luck. 

He had wanted to just give her some money, but she 
insisted that the man watching them would beat her if 
she didn't perform for her "fee", and he had allowed 
her to take him to a dingy room, where she initiated 
him into the ways of being a man. He couldn't look at 
her as anything other than the poor girl she was as, 
bit by bit he pulled her story from her. Then she had 
sat atop him, riding him to a release that he could 
still remember if he closed his eyes, and it was quiet. 
He could still see the swell of the child some other 
man had put into her, that soft white curve of her 
belly, riding right on top of what felt so amazing to 
him.

Now, as he stared at the blond woman, her image was 
superimposed on the thin face, with the dank, oily 
hair, of the girl who had taken his virginity. He 
flushed and felt guilty.

Donna saw consternation in her son's face and looked to 
see what was troubling him. He was looking at Rachel. 
She frowned.

"She's the school teacher. A man tried to rape her. 
She's not married. Things are... difficult for her 
now," she said.

Wally looked at his mother. "Tried... to rape her?" he 
asked.

Donna signed. "Bobby, the boy your friend Jimmy is 
talking to, stopped it. Or at least we thought he 
stopped it. He hit the rapist on the head and killed 
him. She's always claimed that the man didn't finish 
the rape. Events suggest otherwise, though." she 
finished. Donna, like many others in Milleson House, 
was fairly sure that Bobby had something to do with 
that swollen belly, but she wasn't going to pursue 
that. Especially not, considering what role Bobby 
played in her own life.

"She's beautiful," said Wally.

"She's a sweet girl," said his mother.

"Really?" asked Wally.

"She's a sweet... pregnant girl." cautioned his mother.

"I can see that mother," said the young man.

"There are a lot of sweet un-pregnant girls out there 
to dear," said Donna.

"True," said her son, who was suddenly much more 
independent than his mother remembered... or 
appreciated right now. "But I bet there aren't a whole 
lot of them un-pregnant who are that good looking."

"Wally," asked Donna, curious now, "Why would you even 
be interested in a woman who is already pregnant with 
another man's child?"

Wally blinked, like he hadn't been actually paying 
attention to their conversation.

"I don't know." he said truthfully. "I guess it just 
doesn't matter if she's not married and interested in 
me. I just like the way she is sitting there with the 
kids. She looks like a mother and I think mothers are 
kind of sexy."

Donna arched an eyebrow. "Really?" she asked.

Wally looked at his mother calmly. "Look at you. You're 
a mother and you're sexy."

"Wally!" said Donna, blushing. "That's a completely 
inappropriate thing to say to your mother!"

"Hey, the truth is the truth." he said, looking back at 
Rachel. "I think I'm going to go introduce myself."

Donna stared at him, unbelieving as he rose and 
sauntered toward the group of children, being read to 
by their teacher.

***

Rachel saw the soldier coming, but didn't pay much 
attention to him. She was concentrating on trying to 
read like Meg read, using different voices, and 
inflection that made the story come alive. The children 
ignored the soldier too, their full attention on the 
story.

"...and they lived happily ever after." pronounced 
Rachel at the end. The children called for more 
stories, but Rachel told them to run and play in the 
warm air. "You'll get all fat like me if you sit around 
all the time," she said. She put the book down on the 
blanket and leaned back to stretch her back, putting 
her legs out in front of her. It was then that she 
realized the soldier was still standing a few feet 
away. He had obviously been listening to her read.

"You're a fine story teller Ma'am," he said.

"Thank you." she said, aware of her bulging belly. "You 
should hear Meg read to them though. She's fabulous."

"I haven't heard that story since I was their age," 
said Wally. "Who would have thought that a grown man 
would enjoy listening to a children's tale? I'm Wally," 
he said. "Mind if I sit down?"

Rachel wasn't exactly afraid of strangers. She knew 
that when that man had attacked her, it was an 
aberration. Still, she was startled, and a little 
nervous. Why would this man want to talk to her? No one 
else in town did, with the exception of the women at 
Milleson House.

"It's a free country," she said. It suddenly occurred 
to her how banal that sounded. "Of course, we have you 
to thank for that." she added, feeling foolish.

Wally settled in beside her on the blanket. "Somebody 
had to do it." he said casually. "So you're the 
teacher. I went to school here, and the teacher didn't 
look anything like you."

Rachel looked at the young man strangely. If she didn't 
know better she'd have thought he was flirting with 
her. Maybe he was making fun of her. She knew men had 
the capacity to be unbelievably cruel. She didn't want 
to think that Donna's son was that way, but she decided 
to find out.

"I'm sure your teacher was married and probably not... 
with child." she said evenly.

Wally looked up at the clouds. "True, but I was 
thinking more of how gray her hair was, and how bony 
she was, and how she frowned all the time. She was 
pretty free with that ruler of hers too. I imagine I'd 
be a lot smarter today if she'd have been a beautiful 
young woman such as yourself." He pointed at a grouping 
of clouds, changing the subject suddenly. "Hey, there's 
one that looks like a Sherman tank!"

Rachel didn't know what to think. The young man had 
paid her an obvious compliment, almost a forward one. 
It was as if he were blind to the evidence that she was 
a slut. Rachel was not unhappy that she carried Bobby's 
baby in her womb. What he had done for her deserved 
recognition of the highest order, and as far as she was 
concerned, having his child was that kind of highest 
recognition. What she was unhappy about was the way she 
was treated. She couldn't tell people why she'd done 
what she'd done. If she did that they'd treat Bobby the 
same way, maybe even worse. As a result, they all just 
assumed she was a slut. But this man didn't seem to see 
the negative.

"Thank you." she said belatedly. Then "I'm not sure I 
know what a Patton tank looks like."

So Wally pointed out the cloud mass he was referring 
to, and then to another that looked like a dog. That 
caused Rachel to want to talk about Bobby's carvings of 
dogs. On impulse she called to Bobby, who was not far 
away, being ridden like a horse by Patrick, next to one 
of the other soldiers, who was providing the same 
service to June Bug. there was a line of children 
chasing both "horses", waiting for their turn to ride. 
Bobby trundled over towards her, crawling quickly and 
jostling Patrick, who screamed and yelled like a 
cowboy.

"Bobby, do you have one of your carvings with you 
today?" asked Rachel.

Bobby reared, trying to buck off Patrick, who clung to 
his throat and laughed. Reaching into his pocket Bobby 
took out a small carving he had been working on with 
his knife. He still liked to whittle and carve that 
way, though he spent most of his free time working on 
larger projects. He handed it to Rachel, who handed it 
to Wally.

It was a cat, curled up and sleeping, its tail wrapped 
around it. It was almost finished. It was made out of 
cherry wood, and was so finely carved you felt like you 
could see the individual hairs on its back.

"Wow!" said Wally with appreciation. He looked at 
Rachel, who was still looking at Bobby. He saw love in 
her face for the boy. His mother had said this boy 
saved her from the rape, or that people had thought he 
had saved her. "Is this for sale?" he asked, looking up 
at Bobby.

Bobby shook his head. Carvings like this were being 
saved to be given away as gifts. He wanted to make sure 
he had enough for all the women in the house, and 
Rachel, before he gave one to anybody.

"It should be." suggested Wally, handing it back to 
Bobby. "It's the kind of thing that would make a 
perfect gift for somebody like this pretty lady here."

Rachel suddenly realized she'd never introduced 
herself. She bit her lip, though, ambivalent about 
encouraging this strange young man. 

"Thank you Bobby," she said. He turned, and was set 
upon by Jenny who, at ten years of age, had long enough 
legs that they dragged the ground when she mounted her 
steed. She didn't care, though, and slapped his butt 
with her hand, yelling "giddy up horsy". Bobby bucked a 
little and then plodded off as she slapped at his butt 
again, yelling for him to go faster.

"Nice kid," said Wally, on a hunch.

"He's wonderful," said Rachel with more feeling than 
she realized.

Wally could understand how being saved from rape would 
endear a woman to a boy... no, man, like that. Bobby 
appeared to be of an age where he was eligible for 
service.

"My mom said he can't talk," said Wally.

"Yes" said Rachel, still watching Bobby frolic with the 
children. "It's very sad. He's very smart. He can read 
as well as I can almost."

"How would you know?" asked Wally.

She said "I spend a lot of extra time with him, and he 
writes me notes." She turned back to Wally, feeling 
like she was being interrogated. "He's not eligible for 
service."

"Oh, I know," said Wally, looking back up at the sky. 
"My mom told me what happened. I'm sorry you had to go 
through that."

"You don't even know me," said Rachel. "Why would you 
care?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe you look like somebody I'd 
like to get to know. Then would it be all right if I 
cared?"

Rachel was embarrassed. This man had been nothing but 
civil to her, and she was treating him badly.

"It's just that most people don't... approve... they 
don't want to get to know me," she said.

"I'm not like most people," he said, looking over at 
her. "Would it be all right if I called on you?"

Rachel felt flustered. This was so outside her 
expectations she was at a loss. The girl in her said 
"Yes, that would be all right." Then she added. "I 
don't imagine your mother would be impressed, though."

"My mother is a nice woman, almost as beautiful as you 
are," he said. "I'm going to spend some time with her 
too." He grinned. "But I can't hope for holding her 
hand, or maybe stealing a kiss from her. People would 
REALLY be in an uproar if I did that. Being seen with 
you won't be nearly so controversial."

Rachel felt a flush of warmth in her chest. "You, 
mister Pratt, are a very forward man."

Wally smiled, and looked at her pregnant abdomen. "I 
think we have more in common than you might realize," 
he said. "I'm not concerned with your past, other than 
to wish that it had been happier. And I'm not concerned 
about what people think who haven't been where I've 
been, or seen what I've seen. I'd just like to spend 
some time with you and see how things go. Maybe I'll 
get that kiss, and maybe not. But spending time with 
you will be fun even if all I get is a slap in the 
face."

It was the kind of speech a woman in Rachel's situation 
would dream to hear, and her heart fluttered in her 
chest. Wally gave her a relaxed salute and got up. 

"Now I'd better go spend some time with that other 
beautiful woman I mentioned, or I might not get any 
supper. He grinned and trod off towards Donna, who had 
joined Mavis in cleaning up the ruin left by hungry, 
but distracted children.

***

The rest of the afternoon passed pleasantly, and the 
men helped herd the children back to Milleson House. 
Wally spent most of his time with his mother. Both 
Jimmy and Ralph had been lassoed into being horses, and 
had become favorites of the children. Still, Jimmy 
seemed to be near Meg frequently, and Ralph spent 
plenty of time in the vicinity of Prudence. When it was 
time to go the knees of their uniform pants were 
stained green. Mavis ordered them to bring the pants to 
her and she would clean them.

"Least I can do for you," she said firmly.

"Sure thing ma'am" said Jimmy, looking at Meg. "I'd 
like to see this orphanage of yours anyhow. From what 
I've seen it can't be anything like the ones I was ever 
in."

Mavis snorted. "You might see the orphanage," she 
commented, "but I doubt that's what you'll be looking 
at."

Both Meg and Jimmy flushed. But both smiled too.

"I'll ride herd on him ma'am." drawled Ralph.

Mavis arched her eyebrow at him. "If you can tear 
yourself away from other interests." she said, glancing 
at Prudence. Prudence was suddenly very busy looking 
elsewhere. Ralph just smiled.

On the way back to the orphanage, the children traded 
off riding on the shoulders of Bobby and the three 
soldiers, who were already loaded down with their kits. 

None of them complained.


CHAPTER FOURTEEN


That night at supper the mood was euphoric, with the 
possible exception of Sally. She had seen the same 
thing happen that day that always happened. Men just 
weren't interested in her. She tried hard to be happy 
for Meg and Prudence, and she was pleasantly amazed at 
Wally's interest in Rachel. But her face was back to 
its normal unsmiling visage as she dealt with supper. 
She was distracted during the evening radio mystery, 
and was still feeling sorry for herself when she opened 
the door to her room and went in, wondering if she'd be 
able to get to sleep.

Bobby was in her bed, and he was naked. She'd forgotten 
completely that it was Wednesday.

He smiled at her and her heart melted. She was blinded 
by tears of mixed happiness and disgust with herself 
for feeling so alone.

"Ohhh Bobby!" she moaned, and she ran to the bed, 
flinging herself on top of him and kissing him 
urgently. They fumbled with her clothing, and she was 
almost mad with desire by the time he got her dress off 
of her. She let him remove her panties and threw her 
legs wide in welcome. Her groan of satisfaction was 
loud as she sheathed his stiff prick deep in her belly.

On this night Sally was, again, insatiable, as she 
drank in everything Bobby had to offer her. Finally she 
slept, entwined in his arms.

Her smile was back.

***

In another house, on a farm nearby, three weary 
fighting men bedded down together in Wally's room. 
Donna had offered them individual rooms, but they 
declined. They had slept together for years, in 
conditions much worse than this, and neither Jimmy nor 
Ralph complained that his bed was on the floor. Donna 
provided blankets enough that one could be rolled up 
for a pillow. For the men it was, if not heaven, close 
enough for now.

They talked in the dark, as men do on a campout, or 
hunting trip, and the women were discussed in intimate 
detail that would have embarrassed them had they known. 
Breasts and hips were compared and judged better than 
the other man's pick. Wally got guff for being 
interested in a woman who had obviously spread her legs 
for another man. They didn't know about the girl who'd 
taken his virginity.

"She's beautiful, and intelligent," said Wally, who 
claimed his own bed that first night, but offered to 
trade out in nights to come. "And she was raped, or 
almost raped. Either way, she can have more babies in 
the future. I'd sure like to see what one of mine would 
look like coming from her."

"That's just plain nuts," said Ralph. "She's been 
ridden already, pardner."

"Well, maybe she's broke for riding, but the way I see 
it, that just means she'll be more gentle." quipped 
Wally. "At least I'll be able to stay in the saddle." 
He grinned in the dark.

"There is that." admitted Ralph. "And I have to admit 
that Prudence has been broke to ride too."

"Right now I don't care if they're ALL pregnant," said 
Jimmy, completely unaware of his prophetic comment. "I 
ain't seen a woman like Meg in longer than I can 
remember. I'm hard as nails right now just thinking 
'bout her."

"Don't mess up my mamma's blankets" warned Wally, 
laughing. "She'd have my head."

"Never you mind 'bout that, buddy," said Jimmy. "I'm 
saving it up for later."

There was the usual joking banter about dreams they had 
about what might happen, and of getting slapped for 
pursuing those dreams, and ending up with blue balls as 
each man claimed that HE would be successful, but the 
others would fail in their pursuit of their chosen 
women.

All of them went to sleep with hard-ons before it was 
finished.

***

Over the next three weeks the soldiers, perhaps because 
they were used to pursuing their mission to the end, 
bitter or sweet, were relentless in their pursuit of 
the women who had caught their eye.

Wally visited the school first, and convinced Rachel to 
have dinner with him at the restaurant in the saloon. 
That caused a sensation, which they both ignored. She 
was nervous about letting him come to her house, 
primarily because she was sure that tongues would wag. 
When it occurred to her that tongues were already 
wagging, and had been for months, she put her attention 
on this amazing man and stopped caring. He'd be gone in 
less than a month, and she wanted to enjoy the facade 
of normality he brought to her.

By the time they'd known each other for a week, and he 
began wanting to spend the afternoons with her, she 
felt compelled to talk to Bobby about it. She explained 
that this man wanted to be with her during the times 
they usually spent in bed, and asked him how he felt 
about that.

"Do you like him?" he wrote.

She nodded, a strange reversal of their usual roles.

"Then you should spend time with him." wrote Bobby.

Wally spent the first two weeks just talking, or 
listening to her read, or walking with her, hand in 
hand. He talked little about the war, but talked much 
about the places he'd seen, and the people he'd met.
 
Rachel was smitten.

When, two weeks before he was to ship out, he calmly 
said, "I'd sure like to try for that kiss now Rachel."

Still unbelieving, she let him kiss her. His kiss was 
different than Bobby's. The stubble on his face was 
rough, and he tasted different. But his kisses were 
just as hot, and Rachel was just as horny as she was 
with Bobby.

A week before he left, he relived his one sexual 
escapade, as the skinny girl's image was replaced 
forever by Rachel. Blond, pale and round, she rode his 
stiff prick until it bulged and spat her full of Pratt 
seed, his hands caressing the bulge made by the life 
inside her. He loved her, and didn't care where the 
baby had come from. He would love it too.

Every day until he left, he tried to impress on her how 
much it meant to him that she would grace him with her 
love. And every day she fell more and more under his 
spell as he held out to her more than she ever thought 
she'd be offered.

***

For Jimmy and Meg it was a much more easy-going 
relationship. His light heartedness, and the interest 
he showed in her were both welcome to a girl who hadn't 
been on a date since before the war started. They found 
it easy to talk and Meg was giddy, except for the fact 
that she was pregnant, and nobody knew it yet. That 
bothered her a lot. It bothered her so much she asked 
Jimmy what he thought about Wally's interest in Rachel.

"I don't know," he said, as they walked along the 
street. She had actually taken her days off for two 
weeks in a row, and had spent most of each day with 
Jimmy. They walked, her fingers loosely held in two of 
his. "I mean if he likes her, and it doesn't bother 
him, then who am I to say anything about it?"

"But you wouldn't want to be seen with a pregnant 
woman." she said, her hopes fading.

"I never thought about it. Why, are you pregnant too?" 
He grinned, thinking he had made a joke. 

But her reaction to that wasn't to slap him, or laugh, 
or call him a name. She just walked on, and pulled her 
fingers from his.

"Uh oh," said Jimmy, stopping. "I said something bad, 
didn't I?"

Meg held back her tears. "You won't want to be seeing 
me any more, I suppose."

Jimmy's reaction to that was not what she expected.

"What the heck is in the water 'round here?" he said. 
"That Rachel girl and now you too? How the heck did 
this happen?"

Meg, who knew exactly how it had happened, and who, up 
to now had decided that she would raise Bobby's baby 
proudly, despite what she knew would happen when people 
found out, got a little surly.

"You know how it happened," she said. "It happened the 
way every baby gets made. 

"But I thought you didn't have a man friend," said 
Jimmy helplessly.

"I don't," she said. "And I'm not telling anyone who 
made this baby in me either!" she said hotly. "This was 
a special situation, and I can't talk about it... won't 
talk about it."

"Hey," he said, holding up his hands. "Don't be all mad 
at me. I didn't do it."

"No, but you COULD have!" she cried. She rubbed her 
fists into her eyes, forcing herself to stop crying by 
will alone. She was not going to break down in front of 
this man. "If only I'd have met you before. It could 
have been you! But you were off in that stupid war, 
instead of here, making me happy. So somebody ELSE had 
to make me happy!" She was on a roll now, but Jimmy let 
it all roll off of him. Her comments suggested she was 
more interested in him than she had let on. He let her 
finish, and she stood there, quivering.

"OK" he said calmly. "You got that off your chest? I 
thought we were on a walk here." He reached for her 
hand and started walking. He had to pull to get her 
moving.

"Some day I have to hear the story of how this 
happened. You're no tramp. Believe me, I know a tramp 
when I see one. So I'll take it on your word that 
something important happened, and the guy can't take 
credit for it. Maybe that's what happened to Miss 
Rachel too."

"But you don't hate me?" whined Meg.

"Meg, I got to confess that I been tryin' to get under 
your skirts ever since I saw you. Now that don't make 
me any better or worse than the man that got there 
first. Least that's the way I see it. Hell, I never had 
a girlfriend who was pretty and smart. I kind of 
thought I'd like to try that for a while."

They walked on for a while, quietly.

"How can you be interested in a fallen woman?" she 
asked finally.

He looked at her. "One way of lookin' at things is 
that, if I should happen to get lucky enough to get 
under your skirts... I shore won't be able to knock you 
up all accidental like."

"That's a bit crude," said Meg, pulling at her hand. He 
held on tightly.

"Another way of lookin' at things is that anybody can 
make a mistake, but that don't mean they have to be 
punished more than yore labor pains are goin' to punish 
you later on."

He stopped and faced her, taking her other hand too.

"I like you Meg. I like you a lot. It was strange 
circumstances that brought us together here, and I 
suppose it's strange circumstances that happened before 
I got here. But if you don't plan on taking up with the 
father of what's inside you, then I'd kind of like to 
have somebody to come back to when this war is over."

"You'd come back to me?" she squeaked.

"Wally's offered both Ralph and me room and board for 
helping him work the farm after the war. When things 
get goin' we'll even get some pay. Maybe some day I'll 
have a place of my own. Here's as good a place as any 
to start a family. If you think about it, I even got a 
head start on that!" He grinned. Then his face got 
serious. "And no little baby should be without a mamma 
AND a pappa. I know what that's like, and it shouldn't 
happen to anybody."

Meg looked at his face. He wasn't the handsomest man 
she'd ever seen, and he wasn't as educated as some men 
she'd met. She had noticed that his speech got much 
better sometimes, like he was putting on a hick face, 
and sometimes forgot to keep that up. He was like 
Bobby, an orphan who made his way in the world as best 
he could. He intrigued her, and she liked him too.

"Have you ever been skinny dipping?" she asked him, 
turning to lead him to the creek, where a wide turn 
held fairly deep water.

As Jimmy would tell it later, to his two best friends, 
he found out what had attracted Wally to a good looking 
pregnant woman. When Meg dropped her clothing on the 
bank of the creek, she stood proudly. There was only a 
gentle swell to her belly, making it round enough that 
what her clothes hid, was plain to see when her soft 
abdomen was revealed. He stopped his description there, 
though, because what else he saw he wanted to keep just 
to himself. 

He was only down to his pants when she stood naked 
before him, and it stopped him cold. He, like Bobby, 
had been housed in places where he never got to see 
what a woman's body looked like. He had told lies about 
being with women, while he was in the Army, but Meg was 
the first woman he'd seen like this. Being older, and 
hearing the other men talk, he had a much better grasp 
of the sex act than Bobby had. But he was still a 
virgin, and this woman was not. He suddenly got cold 
feet. What if he didn't do it right? What if he 
couldn't do it at all? His prick, which had firmed up 
nicely, began to wilt. He didn't want to take his pants 
off.

Meg stood and watched him, saying nothing. Similar 
fears were going through her mind. What if he found her 
ugly, with her swollen belly? What if, after she had 
made herself naked in front of him, he didn't want her 
any more? Her proud shoulders drooped. When he didn't 
move, she bent to pick up her dress.

"I understand," she said miserably. "They were nice 
words, but..."

"NO!" he blurted. "Wait... please. It's just that... 
well, I'm kind of ashamed to say this, but... well, I 
never done this before."

"But... you said you wanted to..," said Meg, confused 
now.

"Oh hell, men lie about all kinds of stuff," he said. 
When she winced he held up his hands. "NO! I don't mean 
I was lying about that. Not about you. Oh this isn't 
going good at all!" he said. "What I mean is I want to, 
but I don't know how. I don't want to..." He trailed 
off.

Meg's hopes were rekindled. "Fail?" she said.

He hung his head. "Yeah... fail."

What she'd done with Bobby raced through her mind. 
Bobby had made her feel beautiful and desirable and 
loved. She would always love Bobby for who he was, and 
what they'd shared. Now, here was another orphan who 
she could experience things with... teach things.

"You won't fail." she said, dropping her dress again, 
and stepping toward him. "I won't let you fail."

She went to him and said, "Let me." She knelt in front 
of him, working at his pants until they gaped open. She 
worked them down, pulling his drawers down with them 
and baring his limp penis. She was amazed at how 
similar it looked to Bobby's, but how different it was 
too. She looked up at him, through her lashes.

"It's quite handsome." she felt foolish. "I've only 
seen one other, but yours compares nicely." Then she 
felt even sillier, and blushed.

Now Meg's inexperience came into play. She wasn't aware 
that oral sex wasn't widely known of or practiced in 
the 1940s. She just did what she'd done with Bobby. 
Grasping his penis, she leaned forward and sucked it 
into her mouth. She'd brought Bobby's from this state 
to full rigidity, and she knew how to do that.

Jimmy had heard of this, but hadn't believed the men 
who claimed it was the best thing since sliced bread. 
He decided he owed them an apology. Within half a 
minute, he was, as he had characterized it, "hard as 
nails."

Meg pulled of his now rampant prick. "I like it better 
this way," she said. "Do you want to go swimming now?"

"No ma'am, I do not," croaked the soldier.

"Good," said Meg. She sat him down on the grass and 
pulled the pants off his feet, after unlacing his 
boots. He lay back, staring at her as she worked.

"Meg, honey," he said. "You have got the most beautiful 
breasts in the whole world."

"Thank you," she said, her confidence soaring. "Would 
you like to taste them?"

"More than anything I can think of." he panted.

Meg had learned from Bobby about being on top of him. 
Sometimes he liked her to be that way, and he played 
with her breasts when she rode him like that. She 
straddled Jimmy and, putting one hand on his chest, 
squatted slowly, bringing her pussy down to meet the 
stiff prick she held in her other hand. She notched it, 
and sank gratefully down on it with a sigh.

Jimmy gasped as his prick was covered by heat. Then she 
leaned forward and dangled one of those fabulous 
breasts in his face. He sucked at the nipple, lifting 
his head, as she began to rock on him.

Meg, used to being able to bring her orgasms almost on 
command now, decided to have a quick one, just in case 
he got overexcited. When it happened, she told him it 
was happening, and she told him how happy he was making 
her. When her pussy rippled along his prick, he groaned 
and gave Meg the only other seed she'd ever had in her 
body besides Bobby's.

They lay together, catching their breath, and Meg 
kissed him for the first time. He laughed when the kiss 
was over.

"I never figured to do what we just did before I ever 
kissed the girl," he said.

"I really am a hussy." she said, but she didn't feel 
all that guilty any more.

He had to pee, and jumped up to go do that into a bush. 
When he came back she was looking at him with tears in 
her eyes.

"You have scars too," she said. "On your back."

"That's over and done with." he said gruffly. Then he 
was curious. "Scars like who?"

"Bobby." she said shortly. "He's got them all down his 
back, even on his legs and rear. It breaks my heart." 
she moaned.

Jimmy thought about the fact that Meg knew what Bobby's 
naked backside looked like. That thought buzzed in his 
mind. When would she have seen that? He knew the boy 
had been sent to Milleson House by mistake. Mavis had 
asked him about that. And he'd only been at the 
orphanage a short time. So, he was as fully grown when 
she saw him as he was now, for the most part.

He looked at Meg.

"It was Bobby, wasn't it?"

Meg covered her face with her hands and cried.

Jimmy felt heat build in his chest, that threatened to 
burst out. "Did he force you?" he asked heavily.

Meg's hands flew away from her face, shock showing 
there. "Oh no!" she said. "I was just giving him a 
bath. We didn't know how smart he was then, and we 
thought he was simple minded. And while I washed him... 
things got kind of complicated." she ended.

"But he didn't force you?" he asked again, the heat 
fading slowly.

"No" she said. "I'm a trollop... a hussy. I seduced 
him." she moaned. "He was so scarred up, and seemed so 
sweet. He's never forced me to do anything." Her memory 
of losing her maidenhead had altered over the months. 
Until recently - very recently - it was one of the high 
points of her life.

Jimmy reached over and smoothed his hand over Meg's 
humped abdomen.

"So this is my little brother's baby in there?" he 
asked.

She nodded, her eyes red. "He's not really your 
brother." she sniffled.

With very serious eyes, Jimmy said "We're all brothers 
and sisters, who come from those places. He's my 
brother all right. We're family as far as I'm 
concerned." He stroked her belly again, sliding his 
hand to her breast.

"My brother's baby." he mused. "I think I can live with 
that." he said, leaning in for another kiss.

This time Jimmy got on top of her, and, as he 
experienced sliding his stiff cock in and out of a 
welcoming, loving woman for the first time in his life, 
he asked her to be his bride.

***

Prudence also had a lot on her mind as Ralph pursued 
her. Like the others, her cherished time with Bobby had 
become so important that she hadn't paid as much 
attention to her cycle as she should have. The result 
was that, as of June the fifteenth, she was exactly two 
weeks overdue for her "monthly trial" as she thought of 
it. She had never been late in her life. Her 
suspicions, voiced to Donna three weeks earlier, had 
born out true. She was quite sure that she was 
pregnant. She had always wanted to be pregnant, but not 
quite this way.

Now, she had been notified that her husband was seeking 
a divorce, and she would probably have to find some 
other place to live. 

Ralph's attentions were unwelcome, since he was a 
soldier, but welcome, since he was a nice man, who 
treated her with respect. She actually liked him a lot, 
even though she tried not to show it. She didn't know 
what to do, and she couldn't talk to anyone about it 
except Donna, who was busy with her son. Had she known 
that Meg was showing, and that Sally too had missed two 
periods, she might have done things differently.

But the truth of it was that she saw Ralph as a 
possible way out of her predicament. She would later 
confess to him what had happened, based on true and 
deep love she felt for him then. And, he would forgive 
her, but she didn't know that now, of course. 

But for now, her motives were less than sterling. She 
didn't feel good about it, but she did what she thought 
she needed to do. She accepted his attention, and 
encouraged it. She knew Donna would give her fits 
later, but... that would be later.

Within three weeks she felt terrible. He really WAS a 
nice man, with a quick wit who made her laugh. He was a 
strong and dependable man too, from what she could see. 
He told her about Wally's offer of employment, and how 
he dreamed of having a family. He had saved almost all 
his Army pay, and had a nest egg that would allow him 
to buy land, or perhaps start a business when the war 
was over.

As he showed her what a decent man he was, she felt 
worse and worse about what she was hiding from him. But 
she kept her mouth closed, and continued with her plan.

At the 4th of July picnic, she had no trouble at all 
succumbing to his advances and she led him to her 
house, where they made wild, sweet love in her bed. She 
cried tears of shame, mixed with tears of joy. Had she 
been a less desperate woman, she might have broken 
under the strain.

Three days later she kissed Ralph goodbye at the train 
station. He asked her to wait for him, and she said she 
would.

To punish herself, she told Bobby that they could not 
make love any longer... that she belonged to Ralph now. 
She did not tell him that he had made her pregnant. She 
only felt worse when Bobby wrote her a note, telling 
her how glad he was for her new found happiness. 

She had to tell Donna then what she was doing. She 
couldn't bear to have Bobby making love to Donna in her 
house any more. Donna was disgusted with her, and tried 
to talk her out of her deceit, but Prudence begged her 
to leave it alone. After that Bobby went to Donna's 
house on Saturdays.

***

Mavis could feel the change in the mood of the house 
when the men shipped off to war. She understood the 
fear that the girls felt. Meg had announced her 
engagement to Jimmy, and Prudence made a happy face 
when she said she was promised to Ralph, saying nothing 
about the baby inside her. Donna stopped talking to her 
unless it was absolutely necessary.

In another few weeks Meg was showing through her 
clothes, and Sally as well. Prudence, later in August 
started showing too. Mavis, along with Sally, had seen 
no need to deprive herself of Bobby's affections, and 
had missed the first period she had ever wanted badly 
to arrive.

All in all, things were glum indeed. The reaction of 
the townsfolk wasn't quite as negative as Mavis would 
have expected. She kept Sally and Meg in the house as 
long as she could, and their first exposure to the 
public view as obviously pregnant ladies didn't come 
until September. Prudence had already been seen to be 
heavy around the middle as she shopped for food. 

As luck would have it, there were two or three other 
women in town who needed bigger dresses. Two of those 
women were married to soldiers on that train. One was 
the sister of a soldier. People in town counted back, 
and remembered that trainload of lonely GIs, and made 
assumptions that were not as negative as if those 
soldiers had not been around. Somehow, the idea that 
lonely soldiers might have strayed with the women 
didn't seem so bad as it might otherwise have.

Though the people of Hampstead Nebraska weren't aware 
of it, what would come to be known as the Baby Boom of 
the late forties had begun.

War news was now avidly sought by more than just Donna, 
and Bobby and Mavis played with the children while the 
adults huddled around the radio set. Rachel became a 
constant visitor, and listened with them.

The attitude of the women toward Bobby was something a 
good doctoral thesis on psychology could have been 
based on. 

Donna might have been the best study. Only Prudence 
knew that she too was involved with Bobby sexually. The 
others thought their secrets were secrets. But Donna 
wasn't stupid, and when bellies began to swell all 
around her it didn't take long for her to make 
assumptions about who was "responsible". 

Rather than making her slack off her relationship, she 
used both Prudence's time and her own, keeping Bobby at 
her house all morning, or all afternoon, urging him to 
do the same thing to her that he'd done to all of them. 
She, alone, tried her best to get pregnant with Bobby. 
And when, in August, she knew she WAS pregnant, she 
exulted in that knowledge. What she felt with him was 
so precious that she wanted his baby, to take the place 
of her grown son, and the babies her dead husband 
hadn't been able to give her. And when that baby was 
old enough, she'd have another one, if Bobby was still 
available to father one on her.

None of the rest of the women had intended to, or 
wanted to get pregnant with Bobby's baby. All of them 
knew it was their own fault that they had conceived. 
Even though, in today's world, Bobby's part in the 
process would have resulted in him taking half of the 
responsibility, the women didn't look at it that way. 
They still viewed Bobby as the hapless youth who had 
made them so happy with his loving touches, and 
kisses... and more, as they manipulated him. 

Even so, like Donna, they all still loved him, and they 
loved the feel of his babies growing in their wombs. At 
the same time, they wished they weren't with child, 
because of the problems those swelling bellies caused. 

Some people love to drive fast, even though it scares 
them to death. It's the same with being in high places, 
or handling dangerous creatures. There is a thrill that 
can't be experienced any other way, but that thrill 
also carries with it dangers. These women felt that 
way. None of them would have though of ending the 
pregnancy Bobby had caused in them. But most would have 
rather it hadn't happened.

And yet, all of them were, in one way or another, glad 
beyond reason that it HAD happened. 

For Sally, as she rubbed her hands over her bulging 
abdomen, she felt only her love for Bobby. No one had 
cared about her before she was pregnant, and she was 
fast coming to an acceptance that what people outside 
the house thought about her now just didn't matter. Now 
that some of the other women had given up their access 
to Bobby, she expanded it, sleeping with him two nights 
a week. She wished she could sleep with him every 
night.

For Mavis, she would have the chance now to have her 
own baby, something she had given up on long ago. She, 
like Sally, was fast approaching the point where she 
didn't care what others in town thought about her 
indiscretion. She felt no compulsion to stop what she 
did with Bobby. She felt lavishly wonderful and 
complete when he pounded her and she clamped her teeth 
on her gag.

Everyone in the house assumed that Prudence's baby was 
Bobby's too. It was impossible not to for them, even 
though she had told them how, in a moment of weakness, 
she had let Ralph have her. But none of them would say 
anything to Ralph about that, and he would think it was 
his baby. She felt miserable about that, but at the 
same time she firmed her resolve to get another man, 
however she could. She had nightmares about him coming 
back and deciding that he didn't want her after all. Or 
that he wouldn't come back at all.

Meg had experienced a roller coaster of emotions, first 
with Bobby himself, and then, against all odds, with 
Jimmy, who decided to love her despite the fact that 
she was a fallen woman. She still had trouble believing 
that this was all going to work out as well as Jimmy 
had described it to her as they lay in the sun on the 
grass. His dreams were infectious, and she had only 
hope for a bright and happy future - as long as Jimmy 
came back from the war. Since he had left she had 
forced herself to be true to him. She still ached for 
Bobby's touch, though, and Jimmy's acceptance of his 
little brother's baby in his fiancé's belly only made 
it harder to keep from stealing away in the night to 
Bobby's bed.

Of them all, Rachel's attitude about life had changed 
the most. Her inflated view of her own importance had 
died a horrible death when her pregnancy became common 
knowledge. That she loved Bobby so much made her accept 
the ridicule and shame as something she deserved for 
some unstated reason, and she refused to name him as 
the father. And then when Wally accepted her as she 
was, with another man's baby in her womb, her world had 
expanded to include a new kind of joy and love. She 
still loved Bobby. 

She would always love Bobby. But now she had 
experienced something that went beyond meeting just her 
physical needs, on an emotional level that Bobby 
couldn't approach. It could be argued that, had Bobby 
been completely truthful with her, and the other women, 
he could have met that need too. But he limited his own 
world by the role he played. 

The dichotomy was that he had expanded his world even 
more, in one sense, with his prevarication. He had 
worked to climb up the levels of Mr. Maslow's pyramid. 
It had worked for him in some ways, and not in others.

And all the women were conflicted in some ways, and 
happy in others. It is the natural state of humanity 
when they struggle to climb from one level of Mister 
Maslow's pyramid to another, or get knocked from one 
level to the one below. Life is just that way.

Bobby's life, however, was about to take a turn for the 
worse. At least initially.

It happened one day in July, when harvest was in full 
swing, and carefully hoarded and rationed gasoline was 
being used to transport grain from the fields to the 
grain elevator in town. There was dust everywhere, in 
choking clouds, and it was hot and sticky.

Mavis decided that a picnic was in order, down at the 
creek, at the bend where Meg had skinny-dipped with 
Jimmy, and where he had proposed to her. There had been 
four days of heavy rain north of them, to the anguish 
of the farmers, who couldn't harvest if the moisture 
content in the grain was too high. The weather had been 
fine around Hampstead, but the watershed came toward 
them. As a result, the little placid creek was a 
rushing maelstrom of turbulent water. Since swimming 
wasn't part of the plan, however, the lush grassy spot 
was the perfect place to get away from the dust and 
noise, and enjoy nature.

They were playing a game of keep-away with the rolled 
up sock ball. That ball had caused a boy to almost lose 
the use of his hand when the broken window almost 
ruined it. Now that ball almost caused more tragedy.

Bobby was watching, lying on his side in the grass, 
while the children ran and played. He saw the ball arch 
up into the sky, and saw June Bug reaching for it, 
running full speed... toward the creek. As in slow 
motion he saw her trip, and fall headlong over the 
embankment. Below that, he knew, ran raging water.

His scream of "JUNE BUG" was out of his throat before 
he had any rational thought. The women were in two 
groups, one with Mavis, Meg and Donna, who were 
preparing the food, spreading it out on a blanket. 
Prudence, Sally and Rachel were sitting on another 
blanket, just chatting while they kept one eye on the 
children. 

None of them had seen June Bug's tumble. At Bobby's 
strange yelling voice, though, all six women looked up.

Bobby's mind put first priority on the little girl who 
loved him and sat on his lap listening to stories. He 
jumped up and yelled again. "JUNE BUG JUST FELL IN THE 
RIVER!"

Then he ran, cutting at an angle away from where she 
had disappeared, heading downstream, hoping he could 
run faster than the water was carrying the little girl. 
He fell once, rolled and was up and running again as if 
he had done it on purpose, as some fancy stunt. He 
reached the shore, tearing through the brush growing on 
the bank and raking long bloody scratches on his arms 
and face. As he broke through, he saw her bobbing body 
about to sweep past him. One arm was up in the air as 
she struggled to stay afloat.

He dove as he saw her little body disappear under the 
water.

Bobby couldn't swim. Only providence managed to put 
both him and June Bug at a part of the creek where the 
water was shallow enough that, once he felt her 
clothing in his grasp, allowed him to push off the 
bottom so that his head broke the surface. The water 
swept him and his charge along and toward the shore 
where the creek made a wide curve, where it was 
shallower still. He managed to get his feet in front of 
him and, when they dug into the bottom of the creek, 
the water stood him up and almost knocked him over 
again. 

His instinctive movement to lean back as June Bug's 
weight came onto his arm saved him. Teetering in water 
up to his thighs, he kept leaning and pulled the little 
girl's body to his. He couldn't know that, when he 
hugged her fiercely to his body that he squeezed her 
hard enough to force the water out of her lungs, almost 
as if he had done what would some day be called CPR to 
her. 

As he staggered toward the shore, toward a branch that 
was hanging out, she began to cough, and her limp body 
took on some tone. He adjusted her in his arms, getting 
his arm under her buttocks, as if he was just carrying 
her from one place to another. She coughed more, and 
began crying, her body shaking in his arms. He picked 
his way through the brush, onto dry land, and stood, 
looking around. He was disoriented now, and looked back 
at the creek, knowing he needed to go upstream.

He started slogging in that direction, cooing in June 
Bug's ear that everything was going to be all right, 
and that she was safe now, and patting her on the back. 
She hugged him tightly.

He heard the women before he saw them through the dense 
brush that lined the side of the creek. They were 
yelling to each other as they picked their way through 
the vegetation, telling each other they didn't see 
anything. The, through a break in the branches, Bobby 
saw a splash of color that was Sally's blouse. She had 
pulled ahead of the others because she wore slacks this 
day. 

Knowing that he had already alerted them to the fact 
that he could speak, and knowing he couldn't carry June 
Bug much further, he called out. "Sally... over here."

She screamed, and the other voices slowly converged on 
them as she took June Bug from his arms and he sat 
weakly on the ground. Within minutes he was surrounded 
by women, all of whom ignored him completely, and 
tended to the crying little girl. She still coughed, 
but less often now, and her gasping breaths reassured 
the women. She was handed to Donna, who turned and 
began retracing her steps toward the swale where the 
other children huddled nervously, abandoned by their 
adult supervisors. Lou Anne and Jenny, as the oldest, 
had taken charge and kept the children in a group.

Mavis looked down at Bobby, a strange look on her face, 
and she held out her hand to him, pulling him to his 
feet. Her fingers went to the bleeding scratches on his 
face, which looked much worse than they were because 
the blood had mixed with the water running down from 
his hair. It wasn't until they were into the clearing 
that she spoke.

"So you can speak after all." She looked at him 
sideways. "Unless this is a miracle of some sort."

Bobby couldn't look at her. "No miracle." he mumbled.

"Well, well, well." was all she said.

It was immediately decided that the picnic was over... 
that June Bug needed to be looked at by the doctor. 
Prudence said she would stay and recover the blankets.

"Bobby will stay and help you." Mavis said tersely.

The women herded the children out toward the road, and 
the short walk back to town. bobby began folding up 
blankets, and putting food back in the baskets that had 
carried it to the site. Prudence glanced at him 
repeatedly. He felt her looks.

"Are you mad at me?" he asked.

Prudence jumped at the sound of his voice, still not 
used to the idea that he could make that kind of noise.

"Why?" she asked. She had lots more questions, but that 
one was the most important, to her mind. Why had the 
man she loved so much lied to her.

"I was afraid you'd send me away," he said. "It was 
kind of an accident that it happened. But this was so 
much better than anywhere else I'd been I just wanted 
to stay."

"You're much more intelligent than we thought." she 
said, amazed at his cultured voice and his diction.

"I guess so." he responded.

Prudence couldn't help but think about all the times 
they'd lain in bed, as she talked to him, and urged him 
to love her again. She felt naked somehow, but realized 
that was silly.

"So it was all a game," she said. There was sadness in 
her voice.

Bobby looked up, hearing that sadness. "No. It was no 
game. Everything was very real."

"When we were alone together..." she started. She 
couldn't, somehow, say the words out loud. "The look in 
your eyes... it made me feel... special. Was that real 
too?"

"Yes," he said. He wasn't used to talking, and it was 
easier to mimic with his voice what his motions had 
communicated so efficiently. 

Then he asked again. "Are you mad at me?"

"I don't know." she answered truthfully. "I have to 
think about that."

They walked in silence back to Milleson House.

***

The doctor was there when they arrived, having been 
gone for by Sally. He had just pronounced June Bug 
fine, but put her on some of his carefully hoarded 
penicillin to handle any infection that might pop up 
from having inhaled any water. He had been told about 
what happened, including Bobby's sudden ability to 
speak. When Bobby and Prudence came in, weighed down by 
their burdens, he turned to the boy.

"Well, you are just full of surprises, aren't you?"

Bobby just hung his head.

The doctor cleared his throat. "Well, be that as it 
may, it's turned out to be a good thing you came to 
Hampstead. It's saved the lives of two people." He 
packed up his black bag and closed it. "You ladies... 
all you ladies," he said looking at Mavis, "You need to 
get in to see me about prenatal care. I'll expect to 
see you all." he said with authority in his voice.

The women nodded as one, looking startled.

"I wonder if I could have a word with you privately?" 
he said, looking at Bobby.

Bobby looked at Mavis, who waved her hand toward the 
parlor. She turned back to June Bug, who had calmed 
down and was enjoying all the attention.

The Doctor took Bobby into the parlor and faced him. He 
reached into his bag for mercurochrome and began to 
treat the scratches on Bobby's face and arms.

"Have you always been able to talk?" he asked.

"Yes sir." was Bobby's reply.

"Tell me what happened when you... stopped that man." 
Bobby knew he was talking about Rachel's attempted 
rape.

"He was attacking her and I hit him," said Bobby. "She 
was screaming." he added.

"Did you see him actually... uh... was he actually 
in... I need to know if he had sex with her." he 
finally finished.

"Why?" asked Bobby.

"Because, when we buried that man, I got a look at him, 
and he was wasting away with a disease that that 
teacher will have if he actually raped her. If he did, 
then I need to start her treatment as soon as possible. 
She keeps telling me that he didn't, but she can't 
remember everything and she is, after all... well, with 
child."

"He didn't rape her," said Bobby. "He was ready to, but 
I hit him and made him stop."

"You did at that," said the doctor. "All right. That's 
what I needed to know. He looked shrewdly at Bobby. 
"You visit her house frequently, don't you?"
Bobby got cautious. "She lets me read books... teaches 
me things."

The doctor nodded. "As I suspected, of course. Well, 
education is very important, especially if you can 
talk. All this is confidential, of course. Teaches you 
things. Humph. Lot of pregnant women around here." He 
looked at Bobby.

"Yes sir," said Bobby.

The doctor smiled. "Well, since from what I can see 
there are no other men around, I suppose it's handy for 
them that you're here." He winked. "And it's a good 
thing you were there at the creek, and saw what 
happened. That little girl owes you her life." He 
seemed to be thinking about something. Then he 
straightened up. "Yes... I'm thinking it's a good thing 
you came here."

With that he shook Bobby's hand, and headed for the 
door. "Teaches him things!" he chuckled as he opened it 
and left. 

With lunch missed, and supper being prepared, the women 
were too busy to deal with Bobby. June Bug wanted to 
sit on his lap anyway, and she stared at him with 
adoring eyes. Not only did he dispel monsters from the 
closet, he had saved her life too. She felt compelled 
to give him a hug about every two or three minutes, and 
had to be pried off of him for supper.

After supper, it being bath night, the women were still 
busy, and both June Bug and Emily were in their 
rightful places on his lap as Meg read. When the second 
shift of kids came out of the bathroom, and had been 
dressed for bed, Mavis looked at Bobby.

"I reckon you'll take your own bath tonight, young 
man," she said.

"Yes ma'am," he answered. He headed for the bathroom. 
He was in the bathtub when Sally came in with his night 
shirt.

"Here." she said, putting it on the floor by the wall.

"Are you mad at me?" he asked her, sitting in the warm 
water.

"Yes!" she said. "NO!... oh I don't know!" she 
finished. She turned and left before he could say 
anything else.

When he came out, all five women were waiting for him. 
They were seated at the dining table, and there was an 
empty chair waiting for him. 

***

Author's comment: Sometimes readers respond to an 
ongoing story with ideas and suggestions that make a 
lot of sense. My thanks to DirtyH for just that kind of 
thing, which affected the ending of this story.


CHAPTER FIFTEEN


Bobby looked at the circle of women... at the five 
pairs of eyes staring at him. He noticed how quiet it 
was in the house, almost as if he had gone deaf. Mavis 
shifted in her seat, and the rustle of her skirts and 
creak of the chair came as a remarkably welcome sound.

There wasn't anything to do but sit in that empty 
chair, waiting for him. Bobby didn't want to do that. 
But he knew he had to. He owed that to them, at a 
minimum. And he knew he'd tell the truth. He owed them 
that too.

Feeling tense, like when he knew he'd get a beating, he 
sat. No one noticed the irony of the fact that he 
didn't speak until spoken to.

That... conversation, to put it gently, would make a 
story all by itself. There developed, during the hour 
that they bombarded him with questions, the full range 
of emotions that women are capable of. There was anger, 
and disappointment, and curiosity. Remembered incidents 
were discussed, sometimes as if he weren't even there 
any more. Donna's participation with Bobby at 
Prudence's house came out in the process and, red 
faced, she defended her actions by pointing out the 
actions of the rest. 

The women wanted to be angry. In their minds they had 
the right to be angry... SHOULD be angry. And being 
duped was the least of what Bobby had done to them. 
There were, in a sense, eleven people in the room. Five 
of them were nestled deep inside five of the others, 
floating, unconcerned, warm and safe. The women 
carrying them, though, were not so serene, and they 
wanted to blame their condition on Bobby.

But try as they could to be angry with him for his 
deception, all of those women had loved him on some 
level, and been loved back, and his answers about why 
he had done what he had done did nothing to suggest 
that he had preyed upon them. They questioned him 
closely about his life before Milleson House, and his 
experience with women before he came there, half 
expecting that he was some Lothario who had taken 
advantage of them. It became clear, however, as all 
their sexual exploits were finally aired publicly, that 
the opposite was true. 

They had exploited him. Not that he had cared. Quite 
the opposite in fact, but it was clear that the only 
reason they were all pregnant with his babies was 
because of THEIR emotional needs, and his willingness 
to meet them.

Finally Mavis told him to go on to bed.

"Are you going to send me away?" he asked, standing. At 
this point he expected that... feared that... but also 
felt like he deserved it.

Mavis snorted. "You'll be seventeen in what, two 
months? I couldn't get the paperwork through in that 
time."

Her comment did not suggest that he was still welcome.

"I could just go on the road," he said. "If that would 
make things better."

"No!" said Sally firmly. "You'll not go off and leave 
us all here alone." It wasn't clear exactly what she 
meant by that. There was some muttering, but Bobby 
couldn't understand the words.

"Off to bed," ordered Mavis. "We have more talking to 
do."

Bobby went to bed, but he couldn't get to sleep right 
away, even though he felt very lucky to still have a 
soft, warm place to sleep. He could still hear the 
occasional muttering voices of the women down below. 
More than once those voices rose to a scale where he 
could hear a word or two clearly. 

He stared at the ceiling in the dark, trying not to 
listen.

***

He had finally nodded off when the door to his room 
opened. Someone came in. She smelled like Sally. There 
was the rustle of clothing, and a naked body climbed 
into bed with him. He was right. It was Sally.

He was, to put it mildly, astonished.

He was still wearing his night shirt, and her hand 
snaked down, and under it, to slid up to his chest, 
passing by his flaccid penis. She felt warm against 
him.

"You can't go off and leave me alone." she said to his 
cheek. "No one has ever made me feel like you do." she 
snuggled more, and her hand played with his skin. "I'd 
curl up and die if you left," she said.

"I don't want to leave," he said into her hair.

"It's still so strange to hear your voice," she said. 
"Will you make love to me?"

"Yes," he said.

She tugged and pulled at his shirt, getting it off of 
him, and melted against him. Their lovemaking was slow 
and gentle, with her starting on top and then pulling 
him over on top of her.

"We won't be able to do this much longer," she said 
from under him. "I'm going to get too big for you to be 
on top."

"I wish I could marry you," murmured Bobby. "Then we 
could do this forever."

Sally's hands, which had been on his chest, holding him 
up off of her swelling belly clenched his skin, almost 
painfully as she froze and she gasped.

"What's wrong?" he asked, glad that he could voice his 
question.

"You'd marry me?" she said in a tiny reedy voice.

"They'd never let me marry you." he sighed.

It was a frozen tableau in the dark as silence 
stretched. Her fingers still gripped his skin 
painfully, but he didn't care.

"Why not Bobby?" she asked.

He thought about that. "I guess I just thought I'd 
always be an orphan," he said. "I'm not used to 
thinking about making my own decisions." Her knees came 
up and hugged his sides as her pussy squeezed at his 
prick. "If I could... would you marry me?" he asked, 
his heart in his throat.

There was another agonizing moment of frozen silence 
and then he felt her body go limp as she drew in a 
lungful of air.

"YES!" she screamed. "OH YES BOBBY, YES!"

There was the thump of feet hitting the floor next door 
in Meg's room, then the sound of the door opening, the 
hinges squeaking lightly. Bobby's door opened again and 
Meg was standing there.

"Bobby?" she asked. "Sally? What's going on?"

Sally clutched Bobby to her.

"Bobby just asked me to marry him." she said in a 
completely normal voice. "And I said YES!" She yelled 
the last word.

"SSHHHHH!" scolded Meg. Then "What?! Did you say MARRY 
you?"

"YES!" yelled Sally again, joyously.

Meg felt a rush of emotions run through her body. It 
seemed as if the baby jumped in her womb, even though 
it was too early for that to be happening. She felt 
jealousy, then joy, then worry, all in a rush. She 
wanted to be elated for her friend, but she wasn't sure 
she should be.

"Quiet down!" she scolded. "You're going to wake up 
everybody in the house!"

"I'll be good," said Sally in a quiet voice that 
sounded more like one of her small female charges than 
an adult. Then she started giggling, and then laughing 
until she covered her mouth with both hands.

Meg closed the door and stood, listening, not so much 
to Bobby and Sally, but to see if any of the children 
had gotten up, or if Mavis had heard Sally's shouts and 
was coming up to investigate. When she heard nothing 
she shook her head. The bedsprings in Bobby's room were 
making a racket now. As she went back to her room she 
found her hands molded to the swell of her own belly, 
holding her baby... Bobby's baby. She wished more than 
anything that Jimmy was here, so he could make her 
bedsprings sing too.

***

In the morning Sally took the first opportunity to face 
Mavis and announce that she couldn't make Bobby leave, 
because she was going to marry him.

Mavis passed through the shock of the announcement 
almost instantly as the sense of that hit her. Why 
hadn't she thought about that? Oh, there had been that 
one time, when she and Meg had talked of marriage, but 
that was in the abstract. Why hadn't any of the women 
seriously thought about that? 

She thought about herself, being wed to a seventeen 
year old, and wanted to giggle. That wouldn't work. Not 
for her anyway. But it was perfect for Sally. And Bobby 
WOULD get to stay. No one could gainsay him if he were 
a married man, with a job. She slumped as she realized 
that, of them all, she was the only one likely to end 
up as an unwed mother. In her own self pity she forgot 
about Donna.

Sally had watched Mavis' face closely as all that 
flitted through her mind. She knew her employer well, 
and she saw that slump for what it was.

"You can still see him," she said, clutching Mavis' 
sleeve. "I'll still share."

"You must be joking," said Mavis, shocked.

"Not at all," said Sally, as if it were the most normal 
thing in the world to say in 1945. "If it weren't for 
you, Bobby would never have come here. You let him 
stay. You and I both know I'd have ended up as an old 
maid. Now I have a baby on the way, and I'm going to 
have a husband, and my life is going to be full of joy. 
All because of you. I couldn't do anything else but 
share him with you."

"That's crazy," said Mavis. But at the same time her 
heart leapt. When she was with Bobby in bed she was 
happier than at almost any other time.

"And if you want to have more babies you can," said 
Sally. "I know I'm going to. I'm going to have as many 
as I can!"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves here," cautioned 
Mavis. "Bobby may have something to say about this."

"Bobby loves us all," said Sally firmly. "We talked 
last night, in bed." She didn't blush at her admission, 
which she would have before. Her self confidence was as 
high as it had ever been in her life. "He's worried 
because he loves all of us, and he's afraid we all hate 
him now." 

Sally's eyes looked startled for an instant as she 
reflected on what she'd just said.

"Well, not me. He knows I love him. I made that clear." 
Now she did blush.

"I don't think any of us hate him," said Mavis. "We 
might be perturbed with him, but nobody hates him."

"Well, nobody told him that last night," said Sally. 
"We talked for hours. He was still afraid you'd send 
him away. But you can't. He's my fiancé now."

"I wasn't going to send him anywhere," snorted Mavis. 
"He's almost a man. He's got a job, and he made a whole 
lot of babies around here. He needs to be here. This is 
where he belongs."

Then her eyes got round as the full impact of 
everything that had been said hit her. He COULD stay... 
WOULD stay... and she'd STILL get to be with him 
sometimes. She hugged Sally tightly. "I'm so HAPPY for 
you," she said.

The mood in the house improved markedly that day. To 
those of us in this modern day it seems inconcievable 
that Sally would do what she did, but remember that 
these women had been through years and years of self 
denial, and sacrifice, and times so hard we have no 
concept of what that was like. Sally went to each 
woman, explaining that, while she was going to marry 
Bobby when he turned seventeen, on the 5th of August, 
1945, until then, and quite possibly after then, the 
women would have access to Bobby if they so desired. 
She didn't exactly encourage that. 

She simply stated it, and told the women that Bobby 
loved them all. After lunch she went to see Rachel, 
who, when she was finally able to unburden herself to 
somebody about whose baby she was carrying, cried with 
relief. Sally hugged her, suggesting that now they were 
sisters... all of them.

***

The wedding caused a sensation in town. Many people had 
tried to figure out how all those women at the Milleson 
House could turn up pregnant, more or less within the 
same time frame. Many just believed that the soldiers 
had caused it when they spread their wild oats before 
being shipped out again. But when people found out that 
one of the women was going to marry the orphan boy - 
the one who couldn't talk, but then who experienced 
some kind of miraculous cure and COULD talk - minds 
began looking at things another way. Suspicion 
abounded, and that was probably one reason why Sally's 
wedding was the best attended wedding in Hampstead 
history. 

One of the most prominent attendees was Doctor 
Johansen, who gathered a crowd as he expounded on what 
many people had been wondering about. He described, in 
pompous tones, how many mute people were that way 
because of things in their past, usually terrible 
things, but that the ability to speak still resided in 
their brain. Then, in extreme emotional situations, 
that ability could be broken loose. 

He described how Bobby's love for the poor little girl 
he'd saved must have broken his silence. He 
characterized Bobby as "recovering" from his muteness, 
though not completely over it yet. When Maud, the fat 
cook from the saloon argued that SHE had heard him talk 
before, the doctor just smiled and reminded everyone 
that THAT had been a horrific and emotional situation 
then too.

No one noticed the glint in the Doctor's eye or the 
hint of a smile on his lips as he voiced his 
hypothesis. People's eyes began to soften when they 
went Bobby's way as he stood... silently, interestingly 
enough, waiting for events to proceed.

The fact that Homer acted as Bobby's best man, wearing 
his badge and pistol prominently, didn't hurt things 
either for that matter. Still, it was a festive and 
rumor-filled assemblage, generating more excitement 
than had been unleashed in the town in some years.

Sally herself, having few means, just got married in 
her best dress, which had been altered to fit snugly 
over the evidence that Bobby was, after all, simple 
minded, since otherwise he would not marry a pregnant 
woman otherwise. At least that's what some thought. 
Others assumed he was marrying the woman he'd knocked 
up, but then he'd have to be simple minded to want such 
a plain woman too, wouldn't he? 

Since all the other pregnant women from Milleson house 
were not only present at the wedding, but were 
bridesmaids, and since they displayed only love toward 
the bride, the rumors that Bobby had been responsible 
for all of them were discounted. What woman, pregnant 
with a man's baby, would stand idly by while he married 
some other woman?

After a simple wedding, during which the whole 
congregation leaned forward as one to hear Bobby say "I 
Do", the happy couple just walked back to Milleson 
House, where they were going to keep living until other 
accommodations could be found. It was five-fifteen in 
the evening when things broke up.

The uproar in town would have gone on much longer than 
it did, but for one thing. As Bobby and Sally left the 
wedding, to begin their new life together, and bring 
new life into the world, thousands of miles away, 
hundreds of thousands of people were dying in the same 
amount of time that it took Bobby to utter the first 
two words most people in town had ever heard him speak.

The American public didn't find out what happened at 
5:15 PM, on the 5th of August, 1945, in a place a lot 
of people couldn't even pronounce - Hiroshima, Japan - 
until sixteen hours later. 

The news that an atomic bomb had been dropped on Japan 
swept all other news, both national, regional and 
local, out of people's minds. The descriptions released 
were horrible, unimaginable, and people couldn't grasp 
the immensity of what had happened.

Three days later another bomb was dropped, and not 
quite a month later, as leaves on trees in America 
began to emulate the populations of two cities far away 
by dropping lifeless to the ground, Japan surrendered.

It was all over. 

The boys were coming home. 

And many more boys were coming home than had been 
thought would be. Estimates of how many American 
soldiers would have to die in the invasion of Japan 
varied, but all of them were in the hundreds of 
thousands. Now, instead of those hundreds of thousands 
of American GIs dying, an equal number of Japanese 
people had died instead. 

Among the thousands who would live, and would be coming 
home, there were three, named Wally, Ralph and Jimmy. 
So few, among so many. 

But they were very important to four women back in 
Nebraska.

***

As Bobby and Sally's wedding had taken place on a 
momentous day in history, so it was decided that 
another momentous day would be used for the weddings of 
Meg, Prudence and Rachel. All three weddings would take 
place on the seventh of December.

Rachel was the only one who looked normal, as far as 
brides go. Except for the two week old twins, one held 
by her and the other by her groom as they said their 
nuptials.

It was a study in contrasts, as Meg looked like she 
might go into labor during the wedding. Jimmy had to 
lean past her eight month swollen belly to kiss her 
when it was time, and instead of hugging her when he 
gave her that first kiss between husband and wife, his 
hands rested softly on the thin fabric and skin that 
separated him from the baby that wasn't his. As he 
stood, holding her hand, when it was Prudence and 
Ralph's turn, he looked at the babies in Rachel's and 
Wally's arms. If "his" baby looked anything like that, 
he was going to be a proud father.

Prudence, at seven months, wasn't far behind Meg, 
though she wasn't as extravagantly pregnant. Some 
people though Meg was going to have twins too. Prudence 
looked radiant, though, as many pregnant women do. Part 
of that radiance was the result of a clear conscience. 
Prudence's conscience had bothered her so much, and 
Ralph's attitude toward her was so loving when he got 
"home", that in a huddle with Meg and Rachel, she told 
them she was going to confess to him whose baby she was 
carrying. 

She couldn't lie to him any longer. When Meg admitted 
that she had already told Jimmy, and that he loved her 
anyway, it was decided that all would come clean to the 
men. At that time, the men had only been back home a 
week. A dinner engagement was set up at Milleson House 
and, before dinner, Rachel took Wally into Mavis' room, 
while Prudence took Ralph into Meg's room.

The rest waited in the dining room anxiously. Jimmy, 
who who had been through so much with his two friends, 
was let in on what was happening.

"And you let them go in a bedroom alone?" he asked, 
scratching his head. "I thought we wuz here for 
dinner."

"You don't think they'll stay?" asked Mavis worriedly.

"Ma'am, I lived with those men the last few months, and 
all they could talk about was those women. I don't 
think there's any arguing going on in there at all. But 
that's the first time either of them has been alone 
with their woman. I don't s'pect there's any talking 
going on in those rooms at all!"

In fact, when, almost forty-five minutes later the two 
couples came back into the dining room, their clothes 
were rumpled and there were big smiles on the faces of 
both men. The women just blushed, and announced that 
the weddings would proceed as planned.

As if a triple wedding with all the women either 
pregnant or recently delivered wasn't enough to cause a 
sensation in town, the attendance of Mavis and Donna, 
now both five months pregnant would have caused a riot, 
except for the fact that there were almost fifty other 
women in town who were with child. Everybody knew a 
pregnant woman, many of whom were planning hurried 
weddings, and it was difficult to chastise one woman 
and not another. 

***

Prudence's divorce was adjudged final in October, and 
the landlord let her stay. After the wedding Ralph 
moved in, but they didn't stay long. It was too small, 
and Ralph wanted to be closer to the farm. Wally and 
Rachel were already living there, of course, and with 
the twins and Rachel's stated goal to raise at least 
six children, it was clear that the house would be full 
of their own family. 

So two houses were built side by side, with a common 
wall, in a style that was catching on around the 
country, called a duplex house. Ralph and Prudence 
lived in one, while Jimmy and Meg moved into the other. 
They all thought that having three bedrooms in a house 
was extravagant, but they'd be glad for all that room 
in a short two or three years. Prudence, Meg and Rachel 
entered into a friendly competition that the men didn't 
know about, to see who could get pregnant first after 
all Bobby's children were born.

Sally and Bobby stayed at Milleson House. After the 
war, the desire to adopt children gained in popularity, 
and the Government, in its infinite wisdom, decided 
that small orphanages like Milleson House were not 
efficient enough. Financial support was withdrawn. By 
the time the letter was received notifying Mavis that 
the last government payment to her would be made in 
three months, and suggesting that she complete all 
remaining transfer orders, most of the children had 
already been adopted. Only June Bug, who could not 
speak and Patrick, who did not have complete use of his 
injured hand, were left. 

One night, as decisions were being made by Mavis in the 
next room about what she would do with her house now, 
Bobby was reading to June Bug and Patrick. When he got 
to the end of the story, and said the magical words 
"and they all lived happily ever after", June Bug 
looked up at Bobby's face and said the first words 
anyone had ever heard cross her lips.

"Will you be my daddy?"

Sally and Bobby adopted both children, adding to their 
growing family. Together with Mavis, they had two 
babies, and now two older children. Both Mavis and 
Sally were already pregnant again.

Bobby, now working full time for the cabinet maker, 
ordered a house to be built that would hold three more 
children than they already had. Sally thought she might 
be satisfied with six, but wasn't promising Bobby 
anything.

***

One other thing needs mentioning as this tale winds to 
a close. One of the things associated with weddings is 
wedding gifts. In those hard times, when people did 
without so that their sons and husbands would have what 
was needed to end the bloodshed, wedding gifts were 
fairly mundane things. You might get some towels. If 
you were lucky, and people worked together, maybe there 
would be a set of dishes. Many gifts were hand-me-
downs, from relatives. An heirloom clock, or the family 
silver might be transferred to those who were going to 
carry on the family line.

In Hampstead Nebraska, sitting prominently where each 
of six women can see them, are six exquisite wood 
carvings, gifts at their weddings, from the orphan boy 
they took in and learned to love. They are small 
things, when compared to the other gift he gave each of 
those women, but you may rest assured that, if the 
house in which any of those women live ever catches 
fire, after grabbing the children she bore, each of 
those women will snatch up that carving and rescue it 
too.

***

A new sign sits out in front of Milleson House. Donna 
and Mavis run it now, and Sally is the cook until the 
new house being built for her and her husband is ready 
to move into. There's really no need of any other help. 
And the new tenants feel right at home with those two 
women... women who fully understand the situation those 
tenants are in.

The townspeople still chuckle about what Mavis decided 
to do. The town now accepted all the children running 
around, who looked amazingly alike whenever they got in 
a group. But they had not forgotten all those 
pregnancies in that house. That was why they laughed at 
what Milleson House had become.

The Milleson Home for Unwed Mothers...

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The author does not condone child abuse, this story is
meant as an erotic fantasy not real life. Anyone acting
out such scenarios in "real life" can look forward to
many unproductive years getting it up the butt by a 
fellow convict in their local prison.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 47