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Zephyr

By: JimBob44



*Author's Note: Any persons engaging in consensual sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

Chapter 1

Bobby Boudreaux smirked at the 'Nerds, Dorks, and Losers' that gathered in the living room of his apartment. The group of them was all students at the university, except for Derek, his roommate. Derek was a graduate student, studying for his doctorate in Mathematics and Sciences, even though he was the same age as nearly everyone else in the living room. Except for Greg. Greg was a twenty nine year old veteran, having served in Afghanistan. Bobby thought he was weird, wanting to hang out with twenty and twenty one year olds. Actually he thought all of them were weird.

"Boudreaux, rent," Derek called out, reminding Bobby that he was already three months behind on rent.

Bobby gave Derek the finger and continued on to his room.

When Derek had posted the notice on the dormitory's bulletin board that he was looking for a roommate to share the expenses of a two bedroom, one bathroom apartment, Bobby had torn the notice from the board before anyone else could see it. The twenty year old had been looking for a way out of the depressing, gloomy, overcrowded dormitory and, thanks to a very vocal cheerleader; he'd been blacklisted from every fraternity on campus. 

He had known that Cherri was the girlfriend of the president of the local chapter of Omega Sigma Mu, but that had mattered little to him.

Cherri was standing in the hallway, looking completely fuckable in her cheerleader uniform. Her blonde hair was tied up into two ponytails, 'handlebars' for a blowjob and he wanted her. He came up behind her, let her feel his nine inches of man meat pressing into her back, and whispered that his tongue was just as skilled as his cock.

Fortunately for him, Cherri had drunk enough of the party mix to be suggestible. Unfortunately for him, Cherri was a screamer, alerting everyone in the frat house that Bobby's tongue was indeed a very talented tongue.

Derek looked over Bobby's application, let him know he'd be in touch, and waited for more applicants. None ever came, so Derek was forced to give the arrogant, conceited, condescending Bobby the green light. As a teacher's aide and part-time tutor, Derek did not make enough money to afford an apartment on his own.

Bobby gave Derek the first month's rent, then decided that Derek could go fuck himself if he expected to see any more money out of him. They were also supposed to share the utilities, but Derek had yet to see a penny of money from Bobby for that either. Food expenses were supposed to be their own responsibility, but Bobby ate whatever he pleased and saw no reason to ever repay Derek or replace it.

Bobby flopped down on his bed and turned on his stereo. Morbid Angel ought to drive the Geek Group out of the apartment.

Derek got to his feet, walked to the panel in the hallway and through the breaker for Bobby's room.

"Hey, mother fucker!" Bobby yelled as his stereo died and his room was plunged into darkness. 

"Uh, listen, Derek, it's getting kind of late," Terri said and gathered up her books.

"Yeah, uh, late," Sam echoed and helped the overweight Terri to her feet.

The two girls, roommates, walked to the door and left the apartment.

"Yeah, hey, we're going down to Hunter's, what about you?" Warren asked.

"Love to, totally broke," Derek groused.

"Oh yeah?" Tamara asked and elbowed him, hard in his ribs. "What you going down to Hunter's for?"

Hunter's was a strip club that hired a good number of its dancers from the college and from the college dropouts. Full nudity was displayed inside the dark building; touching was off-limits. Of course, what went on in the 'Champagne Room,' the exclusive room that three hundred dollar bought the patrons that was another story. If the dancer was okay with being touched, then touching was okay. Those that could afford the half-hour room did not balk at the opportunity to spend a half-hour with a nubile eighteen, nineteen or twenty year old girl.

"Hey, you see a ring on this finger?" Derek asked, showing Tamara his left hand. "No ring? I can look."

"Come on, Warren; they want to be alone," Greg snickered.

"What the fuck happened?" Bobby demanded as the door closed behind Greg and Warren.

"Gee, I don't know," Derek feigned ignorance. "You forget to pay the electric bill?"

"Funny, cock sucker," Bobby groused and flipped the switch on the circuit panel, flooding the apartment with the loud cacophony of the heavy metal group.

"Turn that shit down," Derek yelled.

"Kiss my ass, loser," Bobby sneered.

"Get rid of him," Tamara demanded.

"Uh huh," Derek agreed.

"I mean it; your problem is, you're too nice. When's the last time he's paid anything?" Tamara went on.

"Um, let's see, never," Derek, admitted.

"So why you put up wit him?" she asked.

"Don't know," Derek admitted. "Greg's all hot to move in, but I can't have him move in until Bobby's out."

They cuddled up on the ratty old couch, kissing and whispering to each other. She froze when his hand strayed too close to her small breast, and then quickly got to her feet.

Derek respected the fact that Tamara had some very deep scars; any sort of sexual conduct brought on feelings of shame and revulsion in her. 

She'd been molested by a next door neighbor, and when her father found out, instead of coming to his daughter's aid, started molesting her himself. Even after extensive therapy, Tamara believed that she had somehow brought it on herself, that she was to blame. She had not shared any of this with Derek, but it was obvious to the sensitive young man that Tamara had issues.

She was very short, only four feet, ten inches, with long brown hair and big brown eyes and a shy smile. Her breasts, what Derek could surmise; she always wore very baggy tops, were very nice, just about a handful. Her backside was nicely rounded as well. If she ever broke out of her shell of shame and dolled up, Tamara would be a very sexy little woman.

Derek hoped that engagement, or marriage would break the twenty year old out of her shell; he had the engagement ring in his dresser drawer.

****

"Hey Witchie-poo," Bobby taunted. "Where's the rest of the coven? Out flying on their booms?"

When he'd first moved in, Derek had tried to explain to Bobby the teachings of Pygathoras and the discussion group comprised of Greg, Warren, Samantha, Terri, Scott, and Tamara. All Bobby had retained from that, however, was the mythological beliefs that surrounded the philosopher and scientist. To Bobby, Mythology and witchcraft went hand in hand, so he labeled Derek as a witch.

"No witchcraft to it," Derek smiled sympathetically. "All things are related to numbers and equations; any alterations of those numbers alters the relationship and may or may not affect the equation as well, but not exclusively so. Some alterations do not alter the equation, just the integers"

"Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble," Bobby laughed.

"Hey, bitch, that's mine," Derek said as Bobby helped himself to a big bowl of cereal.

"Yeah?" Bobby sneered. "What'm I supposed to do? Already poured the milk, but if you want..."

Bobby moved to pour the bowl back into the box. Derek pulled the box out of Bobby's hand.

"Fine, fucker, you got one week, seven days to come up with the fucking rent or your ass is out of here," Derek said.

"Uh huh," Bobby smirked, eating the cereal.

"I'm serious, dude," Derek threatened. "One week, seven days, next Monday, or your shit's going out in the parking lot and I'm changing the fucking lock."

"Touch my fucking shit and I'll fucking kill you," Bobby threatened, not smiling.

"Whatever," Derek said.

"Hey, there anything to eat?" Brandee asked, scratching her rear end as she staggered into the kitchen. 

She was unmindful that this maneuver raised the hem of her tee shirt, exposing her blonde curls to Derek and Bobby. Bobby shoved the box of cereal toward the girl.

"Hi," she said brightly to Derek. "I'm Brandee. That's with two 'E's."

"Uh huh," Derek said.

This one was typical of the girls Bobby seemed to pick up with ease. Very large breasts, very slender waist, and almost no thought pattern.

He was jealous; he had to admit it. Bobby was extremely good looking, with his curly brown hair, dimpled smile and hazel eyes. At six feet and three inches, Bobby commanded attention almost everywhere he went.

Derek, on the other hand, was average. Average in nearly every way, except for his high intelligence. He was five foot nine, one hundred and fifty two pounds. His hair was a drab brown, his eyes were a drab brown, and his skin was sometimes prone to acne. Some would call him cute; others would term him as plain, ordinary.

If it hadn't been for a silly drinking game in his freshmen year at the university, Derek would still be a virgin.

Chapter 2

It was Friday night; Derek had earned a little extra money tutoring a high school student that was hoping to pull his grades up so the university would accept him. To celebrate, and to get away from Bobby and Bobby's unbearable music, he'd decided to tag along with Warren and Greg as they went to Hunter's.

"Aw, yeah, holy fucking shit!" he enthused as a very large breasted girl wiggled and jiggled in front of the trio.

He fished out another dollar bill and the girl smiled vacantly at him.

"Hey, Derek here?" Tamara asked.

"Bobby smiled; Tamara was obviously drunk, or stoned. Her speech was slurred and even as she tried to stand still, was wobbling back and forth.

"No, no, but he should be back soon, come on in," Bobby said.

Tamara staggered in and went to the couch. Bobby closed the door and smiled widely.

He'd been unable to come up with much money. Eighty dollars was all he'd been able to scrounge up. Brandee, or Bambee, or whatever the fuck her name was had complained when she caught him digging through her purse. Theresa likewise had refused to give him any money, so he had to take it. But he knew Derek was serious about kicking him out; Derek had showed him the application he'd filled out and showed him his own initials signifying that he understood he was responsible for his half of the rent, or he would be evicted. Fucking his roommate's girlfriend would be sweet; he might not have a place to live in a few days, but he'd always be able to hold that over Derek's head.

Bobby made Tamara nervous; he was a sociopath, he was a lot like her father. She had to admit, Bobby was very good looking; she often found herself thinking of him when she was kissing Derek. 

But she did not like the way he was looking at her and smiling right now. The alcohol that she'd drank, drank to relieve her of the inhibitions, to let Derek touch her began to sour in her stomach.

"Uh, hey, maybe I better go," she said and hoisted herself, with great effort, to her feet.

"What?" Bobby smiled. "Why? You just got here!"

"Yeah, well, I kind have expected Derek to be..." she mumbled and tried to get to the door.

"Aw, fuck that little fucking geek!" Bobby said, losing his smile.

"Um, let me go," Tamara begged as he blocked her exit.

"Too sweet!" Derek commented to the African American girl, pointing to her curls that had been shaved into a heart.

"You like that?" she smiled. "I believe in love, everything's all about love, you know?"

"Uh huh, well, I love that," Derek said and gave her a dollar bill.

"No, Bobby, please!" Tamara begged as Bobby dragged her into Derek's bedroom and shoved her onto the bed.

He hadn't intended to be so rough with her, but when she shoved him, she made him mad. He knew she was smart; Derek had said that her IQ had tested out at one hundred and sixty one points, but she'd mumbled something about him being stupid, and then shoved him.

She sobbed 'no' repeatedly as Bobby pulled her jeans off. When he finished, she lay, almost catatonic as he laughed at her.

Bobby looked around Derek's room; he'd never come in here before. He then went to the dresser and yanked a drawer open. That yielded a few hundred-dollar bills and a nice looking diamond ring, still in the jeweler's box. A search through the other drawers found nothing of interest to him.

Tamara's purse also netted him seventy-two dollars. He resisted the urge to spit on her as she quietly sobbed, curled up in a fetal position on Derek's unmade bed.

"Thanks, bitch, been great," Bobby laughed and left the room.

He grabbed his shoes and then left the apartment.

Derek finished the flat beer; he really wasn't much of a drinker, then left the bar. Greg and Warren stayed behind; they still had plenty of dollar bills to spread among the very attractive wares that Hunter's had to offer.

He saw Tamara leaving his apartment just as he came up the flight of stairs. Her eyes met his and she screamed, then pushed past him and ran down the stairs.

"Tamara! Wait," he called out after her. "What's wrong?"

No!" she screamed and kept running.

He entered the apartment, and then went into his bedroom.

His dresser drawer was open. A quick look inside showed him that his rent money and more importantly, his engagement ring had been taken. Tamara may be guilty of taking the ring, but not the money, even though he did owe her a few hundred dollars from when he was short the needed funds.

He walked over to the computer and jiggled the mouse to get the screensaver off of it. Typing rapidly, he pulled up the spy-cam's image and scrolled back thirty minutes.

His anger boiled over as he watched his roommate rape his girlfriend. A cold hatred descended on him as he watched Bobby help himself to the rent money and the engagement ring. The ball of bile in his stomach as he watched Bobby help himself to Tamara's wallet; after raping her, after stealing from him, he had the gall to also steal from her.

"Mother fucker, you crossed the wrong guy for the last fucking time," Derek said. "Let's see how you like being helpless, defenseless."

****

The pawnshop owner was sympathetic as the good-looking guy told him a tale of woe; bought the ring to give to the woman he loved, and then caught her in bed with his roommate. The ring was a very nice one, worth at least two thousand dollars.

"Four hundred," he offered.

"Aw, come on man!" Bobby said. "I paid nineteen hundred for it!"

"Then take it back to where you bought it," the guy shrugged his shoulders.

"Fine, fine, just take the fucking thing," Bobby grumbled.

The Sahara was, in Bobby's opinion, a lot nicer than Hunter's. Same college girls, but The Sahara was almost exclusively blondes. There were also a few Asian Americans, but Pat only hired them if they were blessed with large breasts. 

Tiffany was a typical dancer at The Sahara. Even though her breasts were fake, you could hardly tell. Her waist was a mere twenty-four inches around and her hips were twenty-eight inches. Her blonde hair fell down in ringlets to the middle of her back and her long eyelashes fluttered as she wiggled and swayed. She almost looked innocent, child-like, as she approached the tall, good looking young man's table.

"Hi, I'm Tiffany," she cooed. "Like a table dance?"

"Nah, I'd like to fuck you," Bobby said and she giggled and slapped his arm playfully.

"Oh, you're a bad boy, aren't you?" she giggled and shook her breasts enticingly.

"How much?" Bobby asked, never taking his eyes off of her pneumatic breasts.

"Thirty for a table dance," Tiffany said and prepared to get onto the table.

"Yeah, what the fuck," Bobby agreed and fished out his money clip, making sure she saw the hundred dollar bills on top.

****

Tamara thought very seriously about slitting her wrists, of just bleeding to death, of just ending all her torment and turmoil. Her cell phone buzzed again and she wanted to scream. Derek had been calling non-stop, trying to reach her. 

She couldn't tell him. If she told him, he'd want to go to the police. If they went to the police, she'd have to admit she had been drunk. All Bobby would have to say was that she wanted it but had been too drunk to remember asking for it. She was trapped, all over again. 

When she'd went to her daddy to tell him about what Mr. Hebert had done, her daddy wanted her to show him specifically. She did and then Daddy started to do it too. She had been trapped, unable to go to anyone for help.

****

Tiffany giggled and cooed and simpered as Bobby drove her car to his apartment. She leaned against him as he unlocked the apartment door, and then blinked when the lights suddenly came on.

"Dude, where's the ring?" Derek demanded.

"Ring?" Bobby smirked. "What ring?" 

"Dude, don't make me call the fucking cops," Derek said.

"Aw, go ahead, call the fucking cops," Bobby sneered.

"Dude, I am warning you for the last fucking time," Derek warned. "All things are related to numbers and you ain't going to like the way yours stack up."

"Witchie-poo is like this a Pygathorian Wizard," Bobby explained to Tiffany. "Thinks he can add up two plus x and y and control the world."

"Pygathorium, like Pygathoras?" Tiffany asked Derek. "The philosopher?"

"Yeah," Derek smirked at Bobby, and then slammed his bedroom door shut.

"Your roommate's cute," Tiffany said to bobby as he hustled her down the hall to his bedroom.

She was a vocal lover; Bobby couldn't help but wonder if some of it was for Derek's benefit. Bobby laughed out loud when she looked up at him in awe as Bobby shoved all nine inches into her pussy, and then held it there.

"Oh my fucking God!" she screamed out and came violently.

"Yeah, baby," he laughed and began thrusting in and out of her.

He didn't care if they came or not. It but his ego did like it when they did. He also liked it because it meant they would tell their friends and their friends would want a little of Bobby's dick too. Sometimes he'd get them and their friends in bed; that was always sweet.

But if they didn't come, that was fine with him too. Just as long as he came.

Chapter 3

The need to empty his bladder woke him up and he staggered out of bed. Tiffany stirred slightly, and then rolled over, away from him. He padded, still nude, to the bathroom.

He also needed to empty his bowels, so he flopped down on the commode, not bothering to shut the bathroom door. If it bothered Derek, that was Derek's problem. While he did so, he absently scratched his breast and shivered pleasantly as his long fingernail raked over his nipple, which was getting hard in the chill of the air-conditioning.

He did not bother to flush the toilet; knowing this was yet another one of Derek's pet peeves. 

He staggered, still half asleep, back to his bedroom and slid back into the bed. It bothered him slightly that Tiffany had not left already; she would probably be the clingy type, the type that thought they had something special just because he had given her a good time.

She stirred, rolled over and smiled at him. The smile froze.

"Oh shit!" Tiffany squeaked. "Aw fuck, I can't believe this shit! I fucking did it again?"

"Yeah, looks that way," Bobby said in a high-pitched voice, relieved.

Okay, so she wasn't the clingy type. She was the type that had a few drinks, fell into a guy's bed, and then regretted it the next day. He'd say all the right things to reassure her that he didn't think she was a total slut and he'd be rid of her.

"Look, sister, it's not like I'm this big fucking dyke," Tiffany babbled as she slithered out of the bed and frantically began dressing. "God damn it! I fucking hate when this shit happens!"

She hopped, trying to put on her jeans and her sandals at the same time.

"Fuck!" Tiffany complained. "Look, there's nothing wrong with being gay, or bi, or whatever the fuck you are, but I'm not, all right? It's just that, every now and then, I get soooo fucking trashed and then one of you rug munchers comes along and next thing I know... Uh hey, where's the bathroom?"


Zephyr



"Right there on the right," Bobby said, pointing.

"Look, no offense, all right?" Tiffany said and bustled out of the bedroom.

"Yeah, whatever," Bobby said and shrugged his shoulders. 

He pushed his long blonde hair out of his face and watched Tiffany's cute rear end wiggle out of his bedroom. She was a really cute girl, but those breasts were ridiculous; and she dressed like a tramp, and wore far too much makeup.

Long blonde hair. Long fingernails. High pitched voice.

He stared at his slim hands, then at his slender forearms. His breasts war ridiculously large, as large as Tiffany's, if not larger. His stomach was knotted up and the bile was in his throat as he eased the bed sheets down to see if the changes had affected his pride and joy.

Tiffany heard that really cute girl scream and hurriedly wiped her pussy. She hated the tearful rants these emotional lesbians went on once it sank in that she wasn't gay, wasn't going to be their lover. Once, she'd actually had one pull a knife on her and threaten to kill her. Tiffany carried a can of pepper spray in her purse, but would rather not have to use it if she could avoid it.

She flushed the toilet and scurried out of the bathroom, running directly into Bobbi's cute roommate, Derek.

"Gross!" he chided her. "Didn't wash your hands or nothing!"

"Ew!" she exclaimed. "You're right!"

She returned and hurriedly scrubbed her hands, then dried them and then left the bathroom. She looked to see Derek standing in the doorway of Bobbi's bedroom.

"Aw, what's the matter, Bobby?" Derek taunted.

"You!" Bobby screamed. "You did this to me!" 

"What?" Derek asked. "Did what to you?"

"Turned me into this, this," Bobby stammered, and then broke into angry sobs.

Tiffany searched through her purse, then cursed and stomped back up the steps.

"Turn me back!" Bobby was screaming at Derek, trying to slap him with his small hands.

He was easily blocking Bobby's attempts and laughing at him.

"I mean it, Derek!" Bobby sobbed in rage. "I can't go around like this!"

"Um, hate to barge in, but I can't find my keys," Tiffany said.

Bobby stared at her for a moment, then stomped off to his bedroom. He returned a moment later.

"Here, take them, bitch," Bobby sobbed and threw the keys at her.

"Hey, fuck you, dyke," Tiffany shrilled. "Just 'cause I'm not gay don't make me no fucking bitch, butch."

"I'm not gay either!" Bobby screamed and stomped his foot in indignation. "He made me into this!"

"Sure eat pussy like a dyke," Tiffany sneered and left the apartment.

"Stop laughing at me!" Bobby demanded and burst into fresh sobs.

There was a very loud, insistent knocking at the door.

"Better put on some clothes; that's the cops," Derek laughed and went to the door.

"Good!" Bobby shrilled. "Take your ass to prison for life for this!"

"Uh huh," Derek laughed. "Try proving it to them!"

Bobby saw the truth in what Derek was saying; how would he explain it to the cops; he used to be a man, but was now an overly developed blonde bimbo?

He ran to his room to find something to cover his huge breasts and blonde tuft and round ass. Even as he slipped the football jersey on over his head, he did have to admit, he had very nice legs, nice small feet, and very shapely rear end and hips.

"Mm mm mm," one of the police officers shook his head as Derek showed them the spy-cam's image of Bobby Boudreaux raping his girlfriend, and then ransacking his room.

"And you can hear her; she's telling him 'No,' the whole time," Derek pointed out as Bobby entered the living room, tugging on the hem of the jersey, trying to make it go further down.

None of his jeans, or shorts would fit over his ass. It wasn't that his ass was too big, well, maybe it was a little big, but Bobby the man had very slim hips and very long legs. Even his sweat pants were snug and once he'd gotten them up, the legs trailed the floor behind him, nearly tripping him.

"Hey Bobby, the police are here," Derek said cheerfully. "Seems like our buddy Bobby's in a lot of trouble."

"You recorded it?" Bobby asked, incredulous as he watched the whole scenario play out on Derek's laptop computer.

"Yeah," Derek said. "Now, Tamara ain't going to want to testify; she's been through that once before and said it was worse than the actual rape."

"That might be a bit of a problem," one of the cops said in a disgusted tone. "Mother fucker's right there, in living color? We probably don't need her to testify; just need her to file the complaint. He's looking at about five, ten years, fifteen when you tack on the theft. You said that ring was worth twenty two hundred?"

"How about that, Bobby?" Derek said. "Ten, fifteen years in prison? Bet Bobby would be a big hit in the showers, what you think?"

"I think I'm going to be sick," Bobby said and bolted for the bathroom.

When he had emptied his stomach into the commode, he weakly staggered back into the living room. The police officers were still there, writing out the report.

"You," the tall African American cop nodded toward him. "What's your name?"

"Um, Bobby," Bobby said.

"Got any ID?" the cop asked. "And, uh, mind putting on some clothes?"

"Um, kind of found her like that," Derek interjected. "No purse, no ID, drunk as a skank, I mean, skunk, naked as the day she was born."

Bobby glared at him for calling him a 'skank.'

"Oh yeah?" the younger cop smiled. "Had a little too much last night, sugar?"

"Uh, yeah, yeah, you know how it is," Bobby stammered, cheeks ablaze.

Tiffany pulled up in front of her apartment complex and frowned. She'd only had three drinks the whole night; how had she been intoxicated enough to fall into bed with that blonde hottie?

She remembered dancing on the table of a really cute guy, Bobby. Bobby Boudreaux, and going home with him. He definitely had not been a girl; he'd filled her pussy twice with his semen. She hadn't drunk anything at his apartment; after they'd fucked twice, they'd cuddled up and went to sleep.

"Fucking lezzie bitch must have snuck in when I fell asleep," Tiffany decided. "But what the fuck happened to Bobby?"

****

"Derek, I mean it, I can't go around like this!" Bobby protested.

"Gee, kind of sucks not having a fucking choice, huh?" Derek sneered. "But you got, what, two days? Two days to come up with the rent, or your ass and all your shit's out of here, bitch."

"You can't be serious!" Bobby protested. "Derek! I can't go out like this! I don't even have any clothes to wear! How long I'm going to be like this anyway?"

"Until you pay me back all the money you owe me," Derek shrugged and put his bowl into the dishwasher. "I've kept a tally of everything, right there on the table. And until Tamara's over what you did to her, which knowing her, will probably be never."

"But, but, how am I supposed to, where am I going to get, my car, dude, I'll give you my car," Bobby offered.

"Your, you mean that thing out there with the burned up transmission?" Derek scoffed. "Mechanic told you it was twelve hundred to pull it and drop in a rebuilt. That's just more of the same, just more of the same, yet another bill I got to pay because of your selfish fat ass."

"My ass is not fat," Bobby protested, looking over his shoulder at it.

The transmission had seized up because Bobby had neglected to do anything when the 'check engine' light came on. The car had been a high school graduation gift, one his mother and stepfather could ill afford. He was enraged with they refused to pay for the repair bills.

His father likewise refused to help him with the repair bill, too busy with wife number four, or was it five?

"Typical blonde bimbo," Bobby thought as she thought about Dad's latest wife, Claire, or was it Clarissa?

He grabbed the sheet of paper and skimmed over the dollar amounts Derek had scrawled out.

Three fifty a month for three months, four months on Tuesday. Derek had also included the electric and water bills for the past four months and that totaled two forty three and some change.

"Uh uh, I never ate no steak," Bobby argued.

"I bought two filet mignons; I was going to grill for Tamara and me, and when I went to get them out, one was gone, wasn't me, had to be you," Derek shrugged his shoulders and sat down on the couch.

"That bitch, it was Desiree," Bobby said.

"Well, Desiree was in this apartment because of you, not me," Derek said. "Since she was your guest, you're responsible for her eating that steak."

"Fine, fine, what the fuck ever," Bobby huffed and went back to reading the tally.

Twenty two hundred for the engagement ring. That he could take care of; he still had the pawn ticket.

But didn't have the four hundred. Table dances, at thirty dollars apiece, had eaten up nearly three hundred dollars. He'd paid for four of them from Lynette, an Asian babe, just to make Tiffany jealous. Obviously it had worked; he'd woken up with Tiffany this morning.

"How, how did you do this anyway?" Bobby asked him.

"Do what?" Derek smirked.

"Dude, last night, I was a due, this morning I'm a, I'm a..." Bobby said.

"A slut, an empty headed big titted slut," Derek said, smiling at the humiliation evident in Bobby's eyes. "Just like the endless parade of big titted blonde haired skanks you dragged in here. The lowest common denominator; that's what you've become; kind of poetic, ain't it?"

"How'd you do it?" Bobby demanded.

Maybe if he could figure that out, he could reverse it. Then he'd beat the shit out of the smug little bastard and this time, this time he'd make Derek watch while he fucked that shrimp Tamara.

"Easy, really," Derek shrugged. "Everything is related to numbers. Bobby, in your life there was only one number, and that was the numeral one. You. That's all you ever thought about was you. Any and all other numbers were in your personal formula to support the numerator of one. Which is, of course, a prime number. That did make it a little difficult, until I realized, I could divide it by a negative integer."

"Stop, stop, you're hurting my head," Bobby complained.

Derek sipped his coffee and smiled at Bobby.

"A zephyr, that's all you has ever been Bobby. Just a big gust of wind, almost a tornado, blowing through the lives of others with no thought whatsoever of how your actions and attitudes affect others. Welcome to the real world, bitch, welcome to the real fucking world," Derek said.

"Please, Derek," Bobby begged, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Please change me back; I'll do anything."

"And Tamara begged you," Derek screamed at him, then was overcome with rage and slapped Bobby across the face, knocking him to the floor. "She fucking begged you to stop! But did you? Huh?"

"I'm sorry," Bobby sobbed. "I'm so sorry! Please! Please change me back!"

"I should," Derek hissed with pure animosity. "I should fucking change you back and let the cops arrest your selfish ass."

Bobby's blood ran cold. If he was Bobby Boudreaux, male, he was looking at some very serious charges. Both his mom and dad and his stepfather had told him, if he ever got into legal trouble, he could count on them turning their backs on him. He'd be at the mercy of whatever overworked lawyer the court decided to appoint to him.

****

"I'm sorry," Derek said, standing in the doorway of Bobby's bedroom. "I've never hit a girl before; I don't know what came over me."

"Dude, I'm not a girl," Bobby denied.

"Look in a mirror lately?" Derek smirked.

"I uh, I, apology accepted," Bobby stammered.

He'd been sitting in the middle of his bed, trying to figure out some way to get out of this whole mess, but coming up empty.

He'd turned on his stereo, normally a source of diversion, but the grinding; wailing noise he normally listened to was a dissonant distraction. Finally, he found a soft rock station and turned the volume down to a bearable level.

"My stereo," he said brightly.

"What?" Derek asked.

"Dude, I'll give you my stereo; it's worth about seven hundred bucks, it's got the subwoofer and the front and rear channel speakers. You can even hook it up to your television and it'll play in surround sound for those geek movies you and your buddies like," Bobby said happily.

"Fine, that's what, one month's rent," Derek said.

"One month!" Bobby protested. "But it's worth seven hundred, that should be two months!"

"The value of the item for barter is determined by the buyer, not the seller," Derek intoned. "If the buyer is unwilling to pay the price set by the seller, then the item is overpriced. I, the buyer, have deemed the item to be worth one month. If you, the seller, want to value it at two months, then I, the buyer, am unwilling to buy it."

"Fine, fine," Bobby huffed. "I'll go set it up. You want it in the living room or your room?"

"I don't ever, EVER want you in my room, ever again," Derek hissed through clenched teeth. "Tamara's till not answering her phone, dude."

"Oh God," Bobby wailed, feeling sick to his stomach. "I am so, so, dude, I didn't know it would fuck her up that bad, dude, I am so fucking sorry about that."

He knelt on the floor and fished the wires to the rear of the television. He looked over his shoulder at a smirking Derek and frowned.

"What?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing, nothing," Derek laughed.

Bobby looked at him, then down at himself and realized that the hem of the football jersey was bunched up around his narrow waist, fully exposing his rounded ass and blonde pussy to Derek's gaze. Derek had an unobstructed view of his pink anus and splayed pussy lips and had probably been staring at them for a good while now.

Bobby shrieked and yanked the hem of the jersey down as much as possible.

"Aw, spoil sport," Derek laughed.

"Fuck you, fucking pervert," Bobby grumbled, then bend back to complete the task. "Like looking at guy's?"

Finally, all the connections were made and he sat back on his heels.

"Go ahead, turn it on," he nodded to the remote control sitting on the end table.

Derek shrugged his shoulders and turned on the television. The four speakers and large subwoofer came on a moment later, blaring the commercial for a local car sales lot.

"How you turn it down?" Derek yelled.

"Volume button, dumb ass," Bobby laughed.

"Oh, there we go," Derek said and reduced the volume.

"Okay, that's one month, right?" Bobby asked, getting to his feet.

"Uh huh, one down, two more to go, three if your ass is still here on Tuesday," Derek agreed and changed the channel to the pre-game show for their university's football team.

"Oh, come on, can't you find something else to watch?" Bobby complained.

"Dude, thought you liked football," Derek said. Slightly surprised.

Bobby looked at him for a long moment. He did like football; loved football. He'd been devastated that he'd not made the squad when he tried out three years ago.

"I'm going to take a bath," Bobby said and stomped out of the living room.

"Oh, yeah, thanks for reminding me; need to add all the soap and shampoo and shaving cream and toothpaste you've been using," Derek said.

"Not toothpaste, you get that yucky stuff," Bobby protested.

"Then tell your girlfriends to quit using it," Derek demanded.

Chapter 4

Tamara swallowed the pills, hoping it would be enough. Chasing it down with the vodka she'd not drank the night before would help.

The dorm monitor found her on the floor of the room and called 911. 

Tamara came to in the rocking, swaying ambulance and vomited heartily.

****

His cell phone rang and he winced; it was Brandee. Again. He did not remember giving the girl his cell phone number; he rarely ever did that.

Brandee. He could borrow some clothes of hers, get out of this apartment, and maybe figure out a way to get the rest of the money for the damned rent.

"Hello?" he asked, wincing at the sound of his own voice.

"Oops, sorry!" Brandee gasped. "Wrong number!"

"No, no, Brandee, wait!" Bobby said, frantic. "Wait, it's me! Bobby! I um, I got a cold, that's all!"

"Oh!" Brandee giggled, then lost the giggle. "You sure? You kind of sound like a girl!"

"Yeah, I know," Bobby, said, forcing his voice deeper. "Hey, listen, I was wondering if you could do me a big favor."

"What?" Brandee giggled.

"I um, this is going to sound weird, but I need to borrow some clothes, see it's for this school project..." Bobby thought rapidly.

School. He was enrolled at the university as Bobby Boudreaux, male. He'd never be able to convince anyone he was Bobby Boudreaux. Even someone as brainless as Brandee with two 'E's wouldn't buy that story.

"Like what?" Brandee asked.

"Some jeans, or maybe a skirt or something oh, and some panties, probably and I need a bra and a top, you know, Brandee, anything, anything you're like getting ready to throw out, shoes!" Bobby said. "I need shoes!"

"Um, okay," Brandee said, a little confused. "I'll go through my closet, okay?"

"Oh thank you," Bobby gushed.

"You sure you're Bobby?" Brandee asked. "You sure don't sound like him."

"Then I used someone else's toothbrush this morning," Bobby joked and Brandee giggled.

"Thirty seven to six," Derek crowed as Bobby walked to the bathroom.

"Yay!" Bobby cheered and closed the door to the bathroom.

****

"You fucking bitch," Derek hissed, the anger very evident on his face.

"What?" Bobby asked, a little frightened.

As a male, he could very easily overpower Derek. As a female, Derek was much stronger than him. His cheek still stung from his slap.

"Tamara tried to kill herself," Derek spat.

"Oh God!" Bobby said, clutching at her stomach, feeling sick.

The nightmare just wasn't ending. He'd known that Tamara was fragile; she was always so skittish around people. Her manner of dress also told him that she didn't want anyone looking at her body, didn't want to draw unwanted attention to herself. But he'd never imagined that the cute girl was this fragile, this easily broken.

"Derek, I am so sorry," Bobby pleaded with him.

"Save it; your words don't mean shit," Derek spat and left the room.

There was a knock at the door and Derek flung it open.

"Hi!" Brandee said cheerfully. "Remember me? Brandee? Bobby here?"

"In his room," Derek snarled and Brandee lost her smile.

"Jeez, what crawled up your ass?" Brandee muttered as she brushed past him.

Her blood turned to ice water when she saw the beautiful blonde sitting in the middle of Bobby's bed.

"Where is he?" Brandee hissed venomously.

"Brandee, thank God you're here," Bobby bubbled and bounced out of the bed. "Did you bring the clothes?"

"Yeah, where the fuck is Bobby, who the fuck are you, what is going on here?" Brandee shrilled as Bobby reached for the bag.

"Get out of that, bitch," Brandee yelled and shoved Bobby away.

"Brandee, it's me," Bobby implored. "I don't know how to explain, but really, it's me and I need your help."

"Hah ha, very funny, where is Bobby?" Brandee demanded.

"Look, how can I prove it to you?" Bobby asked.

"Fuck you, I'm out of here, and tell Bobby he can kiss my fucking ass," Brandee spat and turned on her heel.

"Brandee waits, please!" Bobby begged, racing after her. "At least leave the clothes!"

"Still can't think of no one but yourself, huh?" Derek sneered as Bobby followed Brandee, demanding the clothes.

Bobby gasped and looked at him. He turned back around and ran back to his bedroom, beginning to sob.

"I don't have time for these fucking head games," Brandee spat at Derek. "You see that ass hole roommate of yours, tell him he can eat shit and die for all I fucking care."

"Uh huh,what's in the bag?" Derek asked.

"Fucking clothes he asked for," Brandee snarled and threw the bag at Derek. "Tell him 'enjoy.'"

"Will do; he such a pretty a girl anyway," Derek giggled.




Zephyr



Brandee was still grumbling and muttering as she stomped down the flight of stairs to her car.

"You're ho left these for you," Derek said and tossed the bag to Bobby.

"Thanks," Bobby said listlessly.

"Uh huh," Derek said and left the room again.

Bobby finally opened the bag and looked through the clothes Brandee had brought for him.

He struggled out of the football jersey and slipped the panties on. They were a thong, pale pink and he wiggled a couple of times, trying to get used to the strap between his cheeks. They were very snug on him and he realized that Brandee's hips were narrow; Brandee was very narrow, except for her surgically enhanced breasts. And collagen injected lips.

"Great," he muttered, but pulled out the short skirt anyway.

It had an elastic waistband and he sighed in relief as it fit him. His hips were wider than Brandee's, so the skirt flared out and was extremely short on him.

"Is my ass too big?" he asked himself aloud and tried to look over his shoulder at it. "Oh God, my ass IS too big!"

The bra was a complete mystery to him. He'd taken many bras off in his lifetime, but had never ever tried putting one on.

"Thirty-six DD, damn, girl," he muttered as he squinted at the label. "That's a lot of boob."

Finally, he remembered watching Tiffany put hers on that morning and did the same thing. He hooked it in front, and then worked the clasps to his back, then pulled it up, squashing his breasts into it, then worked his arms through the straps.

"Uh!" he gasped. "Mother fucker!"

He could barely breathe and his breasts hurt from the almost unbearable pressure. It was obvious that even a thirty-six double D bra was too small for him.

The top was a cute pink top with little black stripes, low cut in the front to show off Bobby's cleavage. Bobby shimmied into it, and admired it in the mirror of his closet.

Oh, that is a pretty color, huh?" he asked the reflection.

"Oh my God, I'm turning into a fucking fag," he groaned.

The black sandals had definitely seen better days, but fit him surprisingly well. He flipped one over and squinted at the size, size seven.

"I'm a size seven now, used to be a thirteen, but that would look horrible, huh?" he said to himself. "Oh, man, my toes need painting bad!"

The last thing in the bag was a small black purse; Bobby realized that it had been bought to match the sandals; they both had small rhinestones adorning them.

"Well, wasn't that sweet of her?" Bobby said and opened the purse.

"Oh!" he crowed happily. 

Brandee had put pink lip-gloss and a bottle of pink nail polish in the purse.

****

"What?" Brandee hissed, ice on full blast when she answered her cell phone.

"Thank you very much," Bobby said. "That was very thought full of you and I do appreciate it."

"Look, cunt," Brandee spat. "I don't know who this is, or what kind of game you're playing but..."

"Honestly?" Bobby said. "I don't know who I am right now either. But I just wanted to call and tell you 'thank you, especially for the nail polish. You were very sweet to think of that."

"Um, yeah, well, um, you're welcome," Brandee said, the fight taken out of her by this stranger's honest and sincere response. "Shit, half the time, I don't know what's going on either."

"Well, um, okay, thanks again; if ever I can help you, give me a call, okay?" Bobby said.

"Yeah, oh, hey, how'd the top fit?"

"It's nice," Bobby laughed. The skirt? My ass is soooo big! But it covers what needs to be covered, you know?"

"Oh, well, um, I got another skirt, it's red, but I didn't pack it 'cause the only top I got that goes with it is this white spaghetti top; it's got these red stripes and the skirt's got these white stripes it it's a little bit longer, you want it?" Brandee asked.

"Please?" Bobby begged. "I mean, bring it when you can, no rush, I'm so glad to finally have some real clothes, you know?"

"Yeah, when I got my boob job, I had to run out and buy all new clothes," Brandee agreed.

After she and Bobby chatted for a few minutes, Brandee hung up and grabbed the skirt and top out of the 'discard' pile she'd created when she'd talked with Bobby earlier that day. After a moment's thought, she grabbed all the clothes; she was getting rid of them anyway and bundled them in her arms.

Her roommate shook his head as she happily trotted to the door.

"Wow, what a difference a hot shower makes, huh?" Jerry asked.

"Oh fuck you," Brandee said cheerfully.

"Please?" Jerry playfully begged, pushing his wheelchair toward her.

Brandee squealed and ran for the door. Jerry managed to grab her ass and she laughed. He patted her ass, and then let her go.

****

"Well don't you look cute," Derek mocked as Bobby came out of his bedroom.

"Thank you," Bobby said brightly, completely missing Derek's sarcasm.

She twirled around, smiling as she stopped, facing him and waited for more approval.

"Nice purse too," Derek smirked.

"I know!" Bobby said. "It matches the shoes, I'm not all that crazy about the thing in between my toes like that, but what are you going to do?"

Derek stared at him, stunned.

"Oh, that's got to be Brandee," Bobby said, skipping to the door.

"Hey girlfriend," Bobby cheerfully said and ushered Brandee into the living room. "Derek, you remember Brandee, right?"

"Uh, yeah, with two 'E's, right?" Derek said, still stunned at the personality transformation.

"That's right!" Brandee squealed.

The two girls walked to Bobby's bedroom, chattering about the pink nail polish.

"Oh, I've got about half a bottle of red, bet it'd match the skirt perfectly," Brandee offered.

Derek switched the channel to another football game and took a deep sip of his beer.

"Hey, what you think of this?" Bobby asked and modeled a slinky top and slightly longer, but still very short skirt.

"Uh, nice, very nice," Derek agreed as Bobby twirled around for him.

"You're not just saying that, huh?" Bobby asked, suspicious.

"No, no, it looks hot, you look hot," Derek stammered.

"Can't wear a bra with it," Bobby mused aloud, unwittingly exposing a breast to Derek, as he began to pull the top off.

Derek shook his head and turned the football game up louder.

"Can Brandee and I have a beer?" Bobby asked after modeling some shorts and a tank top for Derek's approval. "Please?"

"Uh yeah, sure," Derek stammered.

"Thank you," Bobby said and lightly kissed a stunned Derek's cheek.

"Um, I know you're like really watching that stupid football game," Brandee said to Derek. "But you mind if we put on some music? Bobby said you traded her the stereo for a month's rent so we can't listen to it in the bedroom and..."

"Um, no, no, that's cool," Derek said and turned the television off.

"How you work this thing?" Brandee asked, staring at the receiver.

"Here, oh, he only had three beers left so I split it into two cups, okay?" Bobby said and hit the selection for the FM Radio.

Derek was again stunned. Bobby the male would have just grabbed two beers, not worrying how many beers Derek had left, if any.

"Ooh, I love this song!" Brandee said excitedly and began swiveling and gyrating to the song. 

Bobby put the two plastic cups onto coasters on the end table and began dancing with Brandee.

The football game had been between USC and Michigan State, two teams not even in the same conference as their University, so He'd not really been all that interested in it. The show he was watching right now was a lot more interesting than any USC—Michigan State game. 

The two girls rubbed and swayed with each other, their braless breasts jiggling and bobbing around. Both girls' nipples were hard as rocks, poking the thin material of their tops. Bobby whipped her long blonde hair around, and then put her rear end against Brandee's crotch, bobbing and swaying. Brandee put her hand on Bobby's hip and matched her, bob for bob, sway for sway. Her other hand cupped one of Bobby's large breasts.

"Hey," Bobby protested weakly.

"Oops?" Brandee giggled, but did not move her hands.

Bobby turned back around and looked into Brandee's brown eyes. Hesitantly, she leaned in and gave Brandee a soft, open-mouthed kiss.

"Oh yeah, that's what I'm talking about!" Derek said, ruing the moment for the two girls.

"Sorry," Brandee murmured and stopped dancing.

"Yeah, yeah," Bobby said and got the two plastic cups of beer.

"Thanks again for all the clothes, you have no idea what this means to me," Bobby enthused as Brandee prepared to leave.

"Oh, yeah, yeah, hey look, I was going to throw them out anyway," Brandee said and stared pointedly at Derek.

Derek shook his head but left the living room, walking into the kitchen.

"Hey, maybe some night, some night you could come over to my place," Brandee suggested, lightly touching Bobby's breast again.

"Yeah," Bobby agreed and lightly trailed a pink fingernail up Brandee's arm.

"See you," Brandee said and gave Bobby a soft, lingering kiss.

"Hey, how's um, how's Tamara doing?" Bobby asked Derek as he was putting two burger patties into a frying pan.

"Don't know, hospital won't talk to anyone not a family member," Derek mumbled.

"Derek, I am so sorry," Bobby said and hugged him tightly. "I really had no idea, I didn't mean to hurt her that much. I know just saying it don't mean nothing but I really really am sorry."

"Uh huh," Derek said, uncomfortable.

He wondered if Bobby was aware that his large breasts and hard nipples were mashing against Derek's arm and chest. He was sure Bobby had no idea that his crotch was pressing against Derek's thigh.

Bobby kissed Derek's lips softly, and then used his thumb to wipe the pink lip-gloss off of Derek's lips.

"Pink isn't your color," he said, and then released Derek.

"Uh, you, you um hungry?" Derek asked.

"God yes!" Bobby said. "I'm starving!"

"Got two burgers, want one?" Derek asked.

"Please?" Bobby hugged onto Derek's arm and looked at the frying meat. "I kind of like mining a little rare, okay?"

"Since when?" Derek asked. "You always burn it."

"Cooks out all the flavor when you do that," Bobby said. "I'll fix the buns, okay? Ketchup and mayonnaise on yours, right?"

"Uh, yeah, ketchup and mayonnaise," Derek said and flipped the sizzling meat. "Um, didn't think you even noticed."

"Yeah, I do, I know you think I'm like this totally selfish bitch, but I'm not," Bobby happily prattled as he spread the mayonnaise on the two sets of buns. "Well, I used to be, but I'm trying real hard not to be, you know?"

"Um, yeah, okay. Want another beer?" Derek asked.

"No, just water for me," Bobby said and put the two plates on the table, buns ready for the meat. "What else?"

"Chips in the pantry," Derek said.

"Ooh and here's some cookies," Bobby sing songed.

"Want some?" Derek asked, actually smiling at Bobby's antics.

"No," Bobby said, shaking his head. "I want them ALL!"

"Can't have them all," Derek said. "But you can have SOME."

Chapter 5

Tamara sobbed out loud when she saw her father's wolfish face leering at her.

"Mm mm mm, don't know what you were thinking, little girl," he said. "Just don't know what you were thinking at all. Don't worry, take you home, take care of you, take care of you real good."

"No," she sobbed, curling up into the fetal position. "No, please God, no."

****

"Good night," Bobby said and got off the Couch.

"Good night," Derek said, finally able to breathe again.

"They'd watched a movie and Bobby had put his head on Derek's shoulder, clutching his arm tightly. His large breasts pressed against Derek's arm, hard nipples quite evident. Derek had tried to put his hand anywhere but on Bobby, but finally had to put his hand on Bobby's smooth thigh. So, for an entire movie, Derek had hardly been able to breathe, had certainly not seen or heard the movie; but thankfully, it was one he'd seen hundreds of times.

"Been a looong day for me," Bobby said and giggled slightly.

"Yeah, I'll bet," Derek, said.

"I hope and pray Tamara's all right," Bobby said and closed the door to his bedroom.

****

The nurse checked Tamara's pulse and temperature, chattering cheerfully even though she personally despised suicide attempts. Her religion frowned upon it and she saw it as an act of extreme selfishness, arrogance and cowardice.

"Can I, can I tell you something?" Tamara whispered, needing to take a chance, needing to trust someone, anyone.

The nurse felt like vomiting as she listened to Tamara but kept her composure. Finally she shook her head.

"You're an adult," she reminded Tamara. "You don't want him in your room, we can ban him from your room; we can ban him from the hospital grounds altogether."

"You can do that?" Tamara asked, scarcely daring to believe it.

She was an adult. She did have some power.

"No, WE can't, YOU can," the nurse said.

Suicide was still wrong, was still a sin in her eyes, but now she did understand that some people did not know there were other options sometimes.

****

He was unable to sleep.

He'd raped a defenseless girl, had hurt her terribly and the girl had tried to kill herself because of him. And her boyfriend was hurting terribly because of him, too.

And he'd stolen beautiful ring a ring obviously intended for Tamara, and callously hocked it.

He searched through the pants' pockets and found the ticket, and the money clip. 

"Oh, look, There's still three hundred and twenty dollars," he said. He put the ticket and the money into his purse, and then looked at his driver's license.

His arrogant, smirking face looked haughtily at him and he jammed the card back into his pocket and put the crumpled pants back into the closet, along with all the other dirty clothes.

He walked quietly into the living room and saw Derek's laptop computer. He turned it on, then logged onto the Outlook server. Tamara's e-mail address was easy enough to find; Derek e-mailed her several times a day and she responded to them all along with sending along several of her own. The last one from her had been Friday afternoon. That was the last time she'd sent him e-mail; the last time before she drank some vodka for courage, and came over to the apartment. The last time before she'd been brutally raped.

Tears filled Bobby's eyes. Obviously the two of them were very much in love with each other, were right for each other. Thinking back, the few times he had seen Tamara and Derek together, without the interruptions of Sam and Terri and Greg and Warren, the two of them had joked and laughed and kidded each other, and kissed each other a lot.

He pulled up his own e-mail account, and then thought carefully about what to say. Finally, he typed out a sincere apology, confessing his crime and telling her it would be all right with him if she went to the police and pressed charges. He would spare her the agony of a trial; he would plead guilty to the charges and do his time.

****

Derek snapped awake when he felt the small hand lightly touch his shoulder.

"Derek?" Bobby's soft voice whispered. "Derek, I'm ready."

"Huh? Ready for what, what time is it?" Derek mumbled and sat up.

"I'm ready to go to jail," Bobby said, hanging his head. "Change me back and call the police."

"What?" Derek said, looking at him.

"I said..." Bobby started.

"I heard you, but it's not as easy as all of that," Derek said. "Believe it or not, Bobby, I didn't wave a magic wand. I changed the number, which in turn changed the formula. Now we have to wait for all the other integers to fall into their hierarchy before this new equation can be solved to its conclusion."

"Oh," Bobby said and sat down on the edge of Derek's bed. "Well, how long will THAT take?"

"I don't know; you haven't paid off all your debt yet, have you?" Derek asked. "And get off my bed, bitch, and get out of my room; I'm still mad at you."

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry, I forgot," Bobby gasped and bustled out of Derek's room, shutting the door behind himself.

"Besides, I like you a shit load better as a bitch," Derek said and lay back down.

Bobby searched the pantry and fixed himself a chamomile tea. According to the box, that was supposed to help him sleep. He picked up a pencil and added the tea to the list of things he had to pay Derek back, then sipped the hot, soothing liquid.

He realized that the cool vinyl was resting firmly against his pussy and got up and tucked the jersey underneath himself, then sat back down.

"Better," he said then hummed to himself as he sipped the tea.

****

Sunlight streamed into the living room and Bobby slowly came to. Obviously, he'd fallen asleep on the couch after drinking the tea. 

He could hear Derek puttering around in the kitchen and decided to forego the ten or fifteen minutes of extra sleep and see if he could help Derek with breakfast, or with cleaning up the apartment.

"Good morning," he said, still mindful that Derek was still mad ad him.

"Good morning, heard from Tamara," Derek said.

"Oh?" Bobby asked, clutching onto Derek's arm. "She's all aright?"

"Yeah, yeah, doesn't want to see me right now, says she's got a bunch of stuff to work through, but says she's all right, says she's fine," Derek said.

"Oh, thank God!" Bobby enthused and squeezed Derek's hand tightly.

"Uh yeah, yeah, right," Derek said and worked his arm out of Bobby's clutches.

"Want me to fix that?" Bobby asked as Derek prepared to scramble the eggs. "You need to go shave or something, whew!"

Derek looked at him for a long moment, and then rubbed his hand over his chin.

"Uh huh, okay," Derek said and shuffled out of the kitchen.

He returned, freshly shaved and showered, just as Bobby was finishing the toast.

"Thanks," Derek said and Bobby smiled happily.

He sat down, then stood up again and tucked the jersey underneath and sat back down again.

"Listen," Bobby said. "I went through my pants pockets last night and I found three hundred and twenty bucks; I know that doesn't even BEGIN to pay back what I owe, but I was hoping you'd um, you'd let me stay, at least a few more days, until I figure out a way to get all the money, and to get that ring back, it obviously meant a lot and I'm real sorry, I don't know why I thought it'd be all right to just take it like that, well, yeah I do, I wasn't thinking, that's all. A few more days, that's all I'm asking, but I guess I'll understand if you say no; seems like I've made a lot of promises in the past and never had any intention of living up to them, but what can a girl do, huh? I just got to move forward, right?"

"What did you say?" Derek asked.

"I found three hundred..." Bobby said.

"No, no, I heard all that," Derek said, waving his hand to silence Bobby. "I meant, that stuff at the end. That stuff about a girl moving forward."

"Well, yeah," Bobby said and munched on the whole-wheat toast. "I've done a whole lot of mean, selfish things in the past, but I'm going to try to move forward."

"But you said you were a girl," Derek said.

"Look at me," Bobby laughed. "Ain't a whole lot of guys running around with tits like these!"

"Hell, ain't a whole lot of GIRLS running around with tits like those," Derek agreed.

"Please?" Bobby begged. "Just a couple more days?"

"Okay Bobby," Derek sighed. "I really don't see what two or three more days are going to do, but..."

"Oh, thank you!" Bobby said and kissed him squarely on his lips. "Thank you!"

"Uh huh," Derek sullenly said.

Greg was packed, ready to vacate his efficiency apartment. It had been Derek's plan to alter Bobby's numeric sequence, then evict him, leave him to fend for himself. He figured the blonde hottie would be an easy victim and would most probably be kidnapped and raped, possibly killed.

But the sweet, caring girl that Bobby had turned into didn't deserve such brutality. This Bobby was willing to pitch in and do his fair share; this Bobby had even written down that he'd taken a tea bag. Derek erased it; the tea was Tamara's anyway.




Zephyr



This Bobby had sent Tamara e-mail, apologizing for his actions. This Bobby had come into his room and said he was ready to go to jail, to take his just desserts.

He watched as Bobby jumped up and cleared the dishes off the table, then bends over and stacked them in the dishwasher. The position made the hem of the jersey ride up and ex [sped his round ass and blonde pussy. The lips were plump and pink, protruding slightly from the mound.

"Oops!" Bobby giggled and pulled the hem back down. "Going to have to get something a little more appropriate to sleep in."

"Uh huh," Derek said and left the kitchen.

****

"Dude, what can I say?" Derek said. "He finally coughed up some bucks, all right?"

Derek listened as Greg complained bitterly about already being packed, already having cut the utilities, effective Wednesday.

"Look, Bobby came up with some money, asked for just a few more days," Derek said. "I know you were supposed to move in, but..."

Bobby knocked softly on the doorjamb. Derek looked at her; she was dressed in her slinky white and red striped top and red and white striped skirt. She looked very unhappy.

"Greg, got to go; talk at you later," Derek said and hung up.

"Um, listen, I, um, I can sleep out here, on the couch," Bobby offered. "You and Greg are friends and he was supposed to be moving in and it's not right; I been sponging off you long enough."

"You sure?" Derek asked.

Bobby nodded his head and left the doorway. 

****

"Come on," Derek said.

"Where're we going?" Bobby asked, excited to be leaving the apartment, his prison for the past twenty-four hours.

"Don't know," Derek admitted. "But last night, you said you need a bra; Brandee's didn't fit you."

"Yeah, but that's a lot of money," Bobby argued as Derek guided them to the bus stop.

"I didn't say we were going to get you a Rolls-Royce," Derek joked. "Just a bra, oh and something to sleep in, especially if you're going to be sleeping on the couch."

The bus grumbled and groaned to a stop and the two got on. The driver's admiration of Bobby was direct, as was the looks many of the other males on the bus gave him and he edged closer to Derek for protection.

They got off in front of the discount Department Store and arrived just as the doors were being unlocked.

"Oh goody!" Bobby giggled. "We're the first ones here!"

"Yay!" Derek said unenthusiastically.

He steered them to the lingerie department; not an easy task as Bobby had to stop and look at nearly every rack of clothes.

The sales girl was very nice, very helpful and deduced that Bobby needed a 39 Double D bra.

"Last girl I measured for one of these was this dancer, over at, I think she said it was Hunter's, but her's were fake," the girl said. "I've never seen real ones this big before."

"Oh my God, Derek, that's it!" Bobby gasped and hugged him tightly. "I can be a dancer! They make a bunch of money and I can pay you back!"

"No shit," Derek said. "Yeah, that would definitely work, huh?"

"And in high school I took gymnastics so I could definitely do a lot of those moves that they do,' Bobby prattled on excitedly and swiveled and shimmied about in the middle of the lingerie department, much to the amusement of the sales girl and the much to the delight of the old man that was waiting for his wife to make her selection.

"Oh, I also need some panties, please Derek?" Bobby asked.

"We've got these three packs on sale," the girl offered.

"You're so sweet," he said, clutching the girl's arm. "Oh, and I need a sleep shirt; I've been wearing this ratty old football jersey, Derek doesn't mind, 'cause every time I bend over, I flash my pussy at him, but I can't even sit down in the damned thing."

"Something like this?" the girl asked, showing him a baby doll wit matching g-string panties.

"Oh!" Bobby gasped. "That is so pretty, can I have it Derek?"

"Yeah, sure, Derek agreed and had to shift his growing erection.

"Or something like this?" the girl asked, delighting in the discomfort evident on Derek's face.

"No," Derek said firmly. "A fish net camisole top and fish net panties? Definitely not."

"Aw, why not?" Bobby pouted.

"Because we have Greg moving in and I'm not having you running around the apartment dressed like that," Derek hissed at Bobby.

"You're right, he's right," Bobby pouted. "Just get me a couple of 'old lady' flannel nighties."

"I didn't say they had to be 'old lady,' but you have to remember, other people have to look at you," Derek said.

"No, you're right," Bobby said, lightening up slightly. "Maybe I ought to put that baby doll up."

"Well, Greg does go visit his mom from time to time; you can wear it when he's out of the apartment," Derek offered.

"Yeah, how's his mom doing? She had gall bladder surgery, right?" Bobby asked and looked longing at the camisole set.

"Uh yeah, yeah, that's right," Derek said, surprised. "She's recovering all right; Greg's sister lives with her."

Derek motioned to the sales girl to include the camisole set in the other charges while Bobby wandered off to look at the geans that were on sale.

"You're one lucky son of a bitch," the old man congratulated Derek as he walked past.

"And how much money do you have?" Derek asked Bobby as yet another bag of clothing as added to the several he already clutched.

"None," Bobby admitted and hung his head. "All right, we can go."

"Uh, uh," Derek said. "You need to get at least one pair of decent shoes; those look horrible."

"But I already owe you too much," Bobby argued as they walked to the shoe section.

"Exactly, so what's another thirty or forty bucks?" Derek asked and looked at some four-inch heels.

Bobby found a pair in his size and tried them on.

"Oh God, these are hard to walk in," he complained to Derek, but seemed to have the knack after a few moments.

"How do they look?" he asked and Derek shrugged his shoulders.

"They look great, but are they comfortable? Are you going to be able to wear them for a long time?" Derek asked.

"Hmm," Bobby thought, then shook his long blonde hair. "Probably not; but they are cute."

"Dude, we're not buying you shoes 'cause they're cute, we're buying you shoes to wear," Derek reminded him. "Here, try these."

"Ew, those are ugly," Bobby said.

"Fine, fine, pick out your own shoes," Derek said and sat down.

Chapter 6

Her father was outraged when the burly guard at the entrance refused to let him go up to see his daughter.

"Sir, I'm asking you to leave," the guard said, menacingly. "Don't make me TELL you to leave."

****

"I'm hungry," Bobby announced when they left the store. 

The smell of a nearby chain restaurant wafted over and Derek's own stomach growled.

"I'm not the only one," Bobby teased, nudging Derek in his belly.

"Fine, fine, come on," Derek smiled and Bobby skipped toward the restaurant.

"Even though I'm hungry, I probably ought to just get a salad; my butt is already big enough," Bobby declared as he pulled the door open for Derek.

The waiter was nearly blatant in his attention to Bobby and in his attempts to peer down Bobby's top. Finally, Bobby glared at the waiter, letting him know that the attention was unwelcome.

"Goddamn, can't a girl get something to eat without all that shit?" he asked Derek.

"Don't know, never had to put up with it before," Derek admitted.

Because of all the bags, Derek sprung for a cab home and shifted several times; Bobby sat right next to him, head on his shoulder, arm clutched possessively in his small hands.

Derek had always been extremely shy, extremely uncomfortable around females. That was part of the reason Tamara appealed to him; as damaged as she was, as skittish as she was, she was unthreatening to Derek's own fragile ego.

Bobby's affectionate nature, sexiness, and beauty made him very threatening to Derek. Just as the male counterpart had made Derek feel insignificant and powerless, so too did the female Bobby.

Bobby attempted to carry the bulk of the bags himself, but finally Derek took them all, except for the four boxes of shoes and told Bobby to go open the door for them.

"Thank you," Bobby said sincerely when the apartment door was closed behind them.

"Huh, for what?" Derek asked.

"For the clothes, and for taking me out to eat," Bobby said and pressed himself against Derek. "I don't know why I never noticed before, but you're very sweet."

"Uh, you're welcome, but remember, you're paying me back for all that stuff," Derek stammered.

"I know, but can't I just say 'thank you?'" he pouted.

"And I said 'you're welcome,'" Derek said, wishing Bobby would back up, give him some room.

The telephone rang, giving Derek the excuse to go to his room.

"Hey, that's great," Bobby heard Derek say.

"Must be Tamara," Bobby said, and felt a pang of jealousy.

He looked through the several bags that were scattered on the couch a squealed when he saw the fishnet camisole set.

"I'm wearing that tonight!" he decided. "Greg's not here yet, I'm wearing that tonight."

"Well, let's see, I got classes until, Monday? My last class is at four and visiting hours are until six? Okay, I'll see you tomorrow! I love you!" Derek said happily and hung up the phone.

He came out of his room and saw Bobby reorganizing the hall closet.

"What're you doing?" he asked.

"Well, if Greg's moving in, he's probably going to want the closet in that room, right?" Bobby said and hung up the clothes that Brandee had given him.

He looked over his shoulder at Derek.

"And I'm not going to go into that room every time I need something; I know he's your friend, but he's kind of creepy, you know? And you don't want me in your room, so..." Bobby went on and started hanging up the new clothes.

Every time he reached up, the hem on his skirt lifted, very nearly exposing his backside. Derek sat down on the couch, enjoying the show.

"Real question is, what do I do with all my old clothes?" he mused aloud and bent over to get some more clothes out of the bags scattered around his feet.

Derek smiled; the thong panties were very nice, a very pretty pink satin. They were tight, giving Bobby's crotch a 'camel toe'

"I mean, when all of this is over, now why did I buy this? Did it look cute in the store? 'Cause I hate that color, but when all of this is over, I'm not going to be able to wear any of this stuff, oh this is cute, I don't remember getting this, and do you remember getting this? When did we buy this?" Bobby prattled on.

"We could box up your old clothes," Derek suggested.

"Yeah, but there's no room in here," Bobby stomped his foot.

"We'll keep the boxes in my closet until that time, okay?" Derek offered.

"Thank you, I don't know why you're being so sweet to me, I really don't deserve it, are you going to see Tamara tomorrow?" Bobby babbled.

"Uh yeah, yeah, that was her on the phone; sounded pretty good," Derek said, again looking at Bobby's very cute rear end as he started stacking the boxes of shoes in the closet.

"Oh, damn it, we forgot all about purses!" Bobby cursed. "This purse doesn't go with ANYTHING!"

"Guess you'll just have to make do with your backpack for a couple of days," Derek suggested.

"Yeah, THAT'LL look cute," Bobby, pouted.

"You're turning into a selfish, self-centered bitch," Derek warned.

Bobby gasped and stared at him for a long moment, tears beginning to pool in his eyes.

"You're right," he whispered, bottom lip quivering "Instead of being grateful for what I do have, I'm just looking at what I don't."

****

Greg happily taped the last box shut; he'd just wear the jeans and tee shirt for two days, no need to drag dirty clothes to the new apartment. 

He hoped Tamara would get better soon and be a frequent visitor at the apartment; he had a big crush on the girl. As soon as she saw that Derek was nothing but an arrogant egghead, she'd be able to see that Greg was a man, a real man.

He also hoped that Bobby would be leaving his bed behind. He'd been sleeping on an air mattress for the past three years and could make do with it for a few more years, but sleeping on a bed would be welcome.

And if Tamara didn't come to her senses, some girls never did, Terri was doable. She had quite a bit of meat on them bones that gave her some nice tits. She had a sweet face, she was definitely doable.

****

"What you think?" Bobby asked, posing in the camisole top and panties.

"I uh, um, that's nice, very nice," Derek mumbled

"Yeah?" Bobby giggled and turned around, giving Derek a good long look at his rear end in the translucent panties.

Derek quickly shifted his painfully erect cock.

"Yeah, yeah, that's real nice," Derek, said.

"Thanks again, I really appreciate it," Bobby said and disappeared from the doorway.

Derek did his lesson plans for the week ahead, and then had to get up and go to the bathroom. Two pulls of his cock and he was spurting a long stream of semen into the toilet bowl.

"What you think?" Bobby asked him as he stepped out of the bathroom.

Bobby had pestered Derek to buy a container of the body glitter that the dancers often wore and Derek had given in.

Bobby stepped back and gyrated and shook and swayed, still dressed in the camisole set.

"Nice, that really is nice," Derek stammered, voice squeaking.

"Sexy, right?" Bobby demanded.

"Sexy, very sexy," Derek agreed.

"Okay, I think I'll wear the pink shorts and black tee shirt to apply at The Sahara, what you think?" Bobby as he walked to his room. "You got room for them boxes?"

Derek couldn't help but look as Bobby, still in the camisole set, squatted and put the four cardboard boxes on the floor of Derek's closet. Then he stacked all of Derek's shoes neatly on top of the boxes.

"Good night," he said, then kissed Derek's lips.

He looked at Derek for a long moment, and then kissed him again.

"Tamara's such a lucky girl," he whispered, rubbing Derek's arm.

Derek had to go into the bathroom again after Bobby left his bedroom.

Chapter 7

Bobby was nervous as he entered The Sahara. Washington, the bouncer, he never did find out what the burly African American's full name was, made him uncomfortable with his long deliberate appraisal.

"Have to get used to it," he reminded himself. "If you're going to be running around naked, men are going to look at you."

Pat was very friendly, very encouraging as Bobby asked about becoming a dancer.

"All right, let's see some ID," Pat asked.

"Wait, what?" Bobby asked. "ID? Why? We get paid in cash, right? What you need ID for?"

"Honey, Cash or not, I still got to prove that all my dancers are at least eighteen years old," Pat explained.

"Oh, damn it, I lost my ID," Bobby said. "Can't you just let me work until I can find it?"

"Honey, you are a real hottie; they'd go crazy over you, but I ain't about to lose my license over one fucking kid can't prove she's old enough to dance," Pat said, cutting the interview short.

He waved to Tiffany and felt tears begin to form when the dancer scowled and gave him the finger.

Donna, the manager of Hunter's, also wanted to see some ID. The harsh looking red head had definitely been rode hard and put up wet and Bobby was secretly glad to be rejected by the unfriendly woman.

"Hey!" Brandee called out as she saw Bobby leaving Donna's office.

"Hey!" Bobby smiled, happy to see a friend. "I didn't know you worked here!"

"Yeah, just started actually," Brandee said. "Was working at The Sahara, but got so damned tired of Washington always coming in, grabbing ass. The customers can't do it, but ain't no law says the bouncer can't. Mother fucker don't take no for an answer either, just laughs and tells you 'white girl needs a little black dick, know what I'm saying?' So had enough of that shit, came over here. Pay's the same, so why not? You going to be working here too?"

"No, no, Donna wants ID and I don't got it," Bobby said dejectedly. "And yes, Brandee, yes there is a law that says Washington can't just grab ass. A girl's got the right to say no, even if she is a dancer, she still has the right to say no."

"Yeah well, try telling THAT to the cops," Brandee said. "Oops, got to go, customer just walked in."

"Bye," Bobby said and stepped out of the dark interior into the bright sunlight.

Cadillac's was the same; no ID, no job. Bobby had a sneaking suspicion that Centerfold's would not require ID, but he had no desire to work there. It was a thinly veiled secret that most of the dancers at Centerfold's were prostitutes. He'd gone there one time, when he first moved to the university and the women had struck him as haggard, unfriendly.

He walked back to the apartment and paused by the mailboxes. Steve, their downstairs neighbor came out. 

Bobby smiled; he and Steve had a lot in common. They were both huge fans of death metal, thought that Derek and his friends were losers, and thought that women were stupid, pretty much good for only one thing. Steve was also an arrogant, haughty self-centered egotist. He and Bobby were buddies, pals, but both Steve and Bobby constantly tried to find chinks in the other's armor. At the first sign of any such chinks, the other would gladly take full advantage of the other.

"Hey," Steve greeted the hot looking blonde.

"Hi Steve," Bobby said.

"Hey, hey, um, hey, how you know my name?" Steve asked, puzzled.

Bobby realized his faux pas; Steve was his friend as Bobby, the male. As Bobby, the female, Steve didn't know him. And Steve probably wasn't the best choice of people to hang out with as long as he was female.

"Oh, um, you came out of the apartment right under Derek's and he said his downstairs neighbor was Steve, that's right, Huh?" Bobby thought quickly.

"Uh yeah, that's right; you uh, you Bobby's girlfriend, huh?" Steve asked, getting very close to Bobby, infringing on Bobby's personal space.

"No, I'm Derek's girlfriend," Bobby said. "Please step back; you are entirely too close."

"Hey, hey, just talking," Steve said but did not move back.

"Steve, I asked you to step back," Bobby said. "Don't make me MAKE you step back."

Assertive females were not something Bobby or Steve were accustomed to.

"God, I see Derek likes himself some stuck up bitches," Steve hissed and went back to his apartment.

"And that was my friend?" Bobby asked himself, shaking his head.

****

Derek came home and found a despondent Bobby sitting n the couch.

"I drank a beer, wrote it down on your sheet," Bobby said flatly.

"What's wrong?" Derek asked.

"Nothing," Bobby sulked.

"God damn it, why do women do that shit?" Derek yelled. "I asked you what's wrong? I don't want to sit here and guess; just tell me what the fuck is wrong."

"Don't yell at me!" Bobby burst into tears. "It's been a horrible day!"

"Okay, okay, we'll deal with it when I get back," Derek said, after Bobby quit crying long enough to tell him about the problem with identification.

He wiped Bobby's pink lip-gloss off of his lips and waited for the bus. Steve, the downstairs neighbor, pulled out of the parking lot. At first, Steve did his normal pretense of not even seeing Derek there; Derek was unimportant to him. Then he slammed on the brakes and back Ed up and rolled down the passenger window.

"Hey," he yelled over the intolerable clang of Judas Priest.

"Yeah?" Derek sneered.

"I um, I saw your girlfriend this afternoon, dude, what are YOU doing with such a hot piece of ass like that?" Steve asked.

"At first Derek was outraged; how dare this pompous ass talk about Tamara like that? Then he realized, Steve probably meant Bobby, not Tamara. He couldn't help at snicker at Steve lusting after his own friend.

"Same thing you'd be doing," Derek said.

Steve decided, as hot as the girl living with Derek was, any more conversation with the dork was pointless so he jammed on the gas and drove away from Derek.




Zephyr



****

Tamara was distant, withdrawn, and nervous. She did pique up when Derek confided in her about Bobby's amazing transformation.

"It worked?" she whispered.

"Yeah, it did," Derek, laughed. "Actually worked a little too well. He is this big weepy, emotional girl, cries at anything at the drop of a hat, can't make any decisions for himself, needs help with every thing."

"The equation actually worked? You're not just saying that?" Tamara asked again.

"Yeah, he went to sleep, and when he woke up, it was a done deal," Derek said.

"Write it out," Tamara demanded. "Give me the equation, step by step."

Derek did and Tamara pored over it. She did not even acknowledge when they announced that the visiting hours were over and Derek left.

****

"God, you're so smart," Bobby enthused as Derek rapidly typed out the search.

"And here we go; Sonja Marie Trimblinski, born March third, nineteen ninety," Derek said. "Zurich, Switzerland. Died July twenty first, nineteen ninety. Mother deceased, died June twenty fifth, two thousand one, father unknown. Perfect."

"Why I got to be from another country?" Bobby asked.

"Because, Sonja, as big a country as the United States is, there's still a chance you might run into someone that knows the parents, knows that you're supposed to be dead. This way, especially with her mother dead, there's a very small possibility that you'd ever run into any of Sonja's family here."

"Like I said, you are so smart," Bobby praised.

"And Olga applied for Citizenship papers for Sonja just before her death, so we're golden," Derek said and typed his request out. "And...papers will be here by Friday, Monday at the latest."

"But you only gave me a couple of days!" Bobby said, bottom lip beginning to quiver.

"Sit down, Sonja," Derek ordered and Bobby looked around and finally sat down on the edge of Derek's bed.

"Listen, as long as you're trying as long as you are doing your part and not trying to take advantage of me, or of Greg when he gets here, you can crash on the couch," Derek told him. "But Sonja, and I'm real serious about this, the minute, I mean the fucking minute I think you're trying to screw us over, your ass is out of here, you hear?"

"Okay," Bobby agreed, relieved. "Why you keep calling me Sonja? My name is..."

"Going to be Sonja Marie Trimblinski," Derek reminded him. "Better get used to it."

"God, Derek, you are just so smart!" Bobby praised.

"Uh huh, now get out of my room, Sonja; some of us actually have homework to do," Derek said.

It was a distraction' Bobby sitting there in that ridiculously skimpy baby doll. And the top was held on by one bow. Every time Bobby shifted, his breasts were completely exposed.

****

He smiled. The girl finally came to her senses and saw that a girl needs her daddy, needs to listen to her daddy, and needs to do what she can to make her daddy happy.

He loved the little bitch; at first it didn't seem that she understood that. Letting the hospital talk her into having them send him away like that. Then she called him and begged him to please come see her tomorrow.

He unzipped his slacks and found a handkerchief; wouldn't do to get his semen on his trousers. They were worsted wool, after all. Dry cleaning was a hassle enough without pecker track all over the place.

"He imagined her small mouth stretching over his cock; she used to cry when ever he made her suck him off. But she had the perfect mouth for it; had such a hot little tongue, such small hands. 

He wondered if anyone had ever opened up her ass; she had such a cute little ass, perfect for pounding his cock into. That sniveling little sissy of a boyfriend of hers probably hadn't done it. Derek struck him as the type that would get sick at the sight of a little blood and shit on his dick.

****

Tamara giggled as she carefully wrote out the problem. Derek had shown her where he had divided Bobby's numerator. She multiplied her father's numerator and the lowest common denominator by two and nodded her head in satisfaction. Then she very carefully and thoroughly tore the paper into tiny pieces, each piece as small as he could possibly get them, then she swallowed most of the paper scraps.

She knelt by the side of her bed and prayed, something she rarely ever did.

Giggling made it hard to fall asleep.

Chapter 8

He ached. Ached all over. With a groan, he came to the realization that he'd defecated on himself and if the smell of urine was any indication, had urinated on himself as well.

He hobbled out of the bed to the bathroom and peeled the boxer shorts off and dropped them into the hamper. Let George, his personal valet attends to that. His bones creaked and popped as he sat on the commode and waited. And waited, but after twenty minutes, it was obvious that nothing was going to come out. He sighed, wiped himself clean of his earlier accident and, groaning, made his way to the sink to shave.

He looked up into the mirror and screamed at the wrinkled, toothless, bald old man that looked back at him.

****

"Rise and shine, sweetie," the nurse said cheerfully as she entered the room, and then froze. The chilling smile on the patient's face made her extremely uncomfortable.

"Good morning," Tamara said in a distant voice. "It's going to be a beautiful day."

****

Derek pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and saw the hospital's number on his phone.

"Hello?" he asked.

"Hi Derek, it's me," Tamara said.

"Um, okay," Derek said, puzzled.

The voice sounded flat, unemotional.

"You got a cold or something?" Derek asked.

Tamara found that very funny, but finally quit giggling long enough to respond.

"It worked, Derek, it worked. I just know it did," she said into the phone, that flat, unemotional voice making him very uncomfortable.

"What worked?" Derek asked, and then remembered giving her the equation. "Tamara, what did you do?"

"I made him twice as old; he's like ninety two years old, can't hurt nobody now," Tamara whispered. 

"What?" Derek asked, incredulous.

"Anyway, my seventy two hours are almost up; they'll probably be releasing me soon," Tamara said.

"Want me to come get you?" Derek asked.

"No, I'll just take a cab, I want to see my daddy," Tamara said then giggled, sending a shiver down Derek's spine.

****

Greg couldn't hide his erection, nor did he make any attempt to. Sonja finally cornered Derek in the kitchen.

"Listen; I know you don't like me being in your bedroom, but I am about to scream; he keeps waving his package in my face, like it's some big deal," Sonja hissed at him.

"Fine, fine, go," Derek, agreed.

"Thank you," Sonja said and walked to the bedroom and waited until Greg was within sight and made a point of slamming the door shut.

"Dude, she is like a total fucking hottie," Greg crowed.

"Uh huh, look man, your staring at her is making her extremely uncomfortable; give it a rest, all right?" Derek said as they traipsed down the stairs to Greg's battered old pick up truck.

"How the fuck you'd get her, huh?" Greg begged.

"One of Bobby's old girlfriends, just showed up," Derek said as they lugged the extremely heavy footlocker up the stairs.

"And you're making her sleep on the couch?" Greg said.

"Dude, could make YOU sleep on the couch," Derek said as they entered the living room.

"I'll tell her she can sleep with me; I won't bite," Greg laughed.

"Look," Derek said and dropped his end of the footlocker on the floor. "Look, she's a guest here, all right? She's not a 'fuck buddy' or a piece of ass; she's a person, she's got feelings, she's got a right to be treated with respect and decency. All right?"

"Dude, all right," Greg said petulantly.

"What a fucking pussy," Greg sneered when he was in his own room.

"I heard you out there," Sonja said quietly.

"Yeah, well, I really couldn't take any more of it," Derek groused.

"Thank you," Sonja said and kissed him softly. "You're very sweet."

"Look, Bob...Sonja," Derek stammered.

"I make you nervous, don't I?" Sonja asked.

"Yeah, yeah you do," Derek stammered.

"Don't be," Sonja whispered and kissed him again. "Did Tamara make you nervous?"

"No, not really, well, yeah, a little," Derek admitted.

"Then just close your eyes and pretend it's Tamara; you're talking with Tamara," Sonja suggested. "I've seen you two; you talk and you laugh and you kid around, you have fun. Just pretend I'm her."

"But you're not her," Derek interrupted.

"No, no I'm not, am I?" Sonja said sadly, resting her hand on Derek's arm

****

"Hi Daddy," Tamara giggled as she let herself into the large house. "Hi George! It's me!"

"What, what did you do?" her father hissed at her.

"Oh, Daddy, you look all old and stuff!" Tamara laughed maliciously. "Gee, be a real shame if you fell down the stairs, wouldn't it?"

George looked stricken. Tamara lost the smile and looked at her father.

"I'd be real fucking careful, old man; one move, one look like you're going to try fucking with me, and your ass is dead, hear me?" she said.

"But I, but you liked it," her father protested.

"Liked it?" Tamara screamed. "Liked it? I cried and cried and begged you to stop!"

"But, but," her father whispered, clutching at his chest. "Oh, my heart!"

"Sir, sit down," George said and guided the man to a chair.

"Oh, no, old man, don't you dare die on me like that; I've got so many fun things I'm going to do to you," Tamara hissed hatefully.

"Miss Tamara, please!" George begged as he held the old man's hand.

****

Sonja served the dinner she'd made and Greg tried to get her to drink a few shots of whiskey with him.

When Derek glared at him, Greg stopped.

"Want some more, Baby?" Sonja asked Derek.

"No, no, but thanks," Derek said, letting the 'Baby' comment slide.

"Hey, hey, how about...?" Greg asked and pulled out two joints.

"No thanks," Derek said.

"Sonja?" Greg asked, holding out the two joints.

"Not for me," she smiled. "I smoke that, then I get the munchies and next thing I know I've killed a whole half gallon of ice cream and it all goes straight to my big old butt and once it's there, it never wants to leave."

"Hey, hey, if I was on that butt, I'd never want to leave either," Greg said and leered.

"Uh huh," Sonja said and gathered her plate and Derek's plate.

"Greg and Derek both watched as she bent over to put the dishes in the dishwasher.

"I'm going to run this thing; can't take a shower until it's finished 'cause it takes all the hot water, even with the energy button pushed in," she said and began to wipe down the counters.

"Hey, let me do that," Derek said, taking the rag from her small hand.

"Thank you," she smiled up at him and gave him an affectionate squeeze.

"Old girlfriend of Bobby's my fucking ass," Greg said when Sonja left the kitchen. "Dude, you're hitting that."

"Dude, no I'm not," Derek said. "She's a sweet girl, she needed a friend and I was there, all right?"

""Where the fuck is Bobby anyway?" Greg asked. "Thought you said he'd slipped you a couple of bucks and..."

"Yeah, but still decided to leave anyway," Derek said, shrugging. "Can't say I miss him."

"Me neither," Sonja said from the doorway.

She looked at Derek.

"Jeopardy's on; you like that show, right?" she asked.

"Yeah, thanks," Derek smiled.

"And it'll sound even better in surround sound," Sonja smiled and hit the button on the remote, cranking up the show just as the contestants were being introduced.

Alex read the clue for the Final Jeopardy and Derek answered it out loud.

"You ought to go on this show; you're so smart," Sonja said, hugging Derek's arm tightly.

"Uh huh," Derek laughed. "I tried out for the College Tournament, bombed it like you wouldn't believe."

"Really?" Sonja asked, surprised. "When was that? I known you for, what, at least two years now, right?"

"Last year," Derek admitted.

"Sorry," Sonja whispered and snuggled closer to him.

"So you've known Derek for two years?" Greg asked, trying to put a lie to Derek's assertion that they were just roommates.

"Well, yeah, he was the teacher's aide for my Algebra 121 class," Sonja said. "Bet he doesn't even remember that."

"Yeah I do, you failed it miserably," Derek teased.

"I did not!" Sonja gasped and playfully slapped his arm. "Now, yeah, it was by the skin of my teeth, but..."

"Maybe if you'd bent over a lot," Greg suggested.

"Yeah, well, that was Professor Houston's class," Sonja said.

"Aw man, that old queen?" Greg wrinkled up his face in disgust.

"Actually that was the only way I passed that class," Sonja whispered in Derek's ear. "I let that queen suck my cock while he spanked his."

Derek groaned as Sonja playfully nipped his earlobe. She giggled and pressed her breasts into his arm.

"Okay, how are we going to work this?" Sonja asked out loud.

"Work what?" Greg asked.

"Showers. I like taking mine in the morning, but every now and then, if it's been a really sticky day, I like taking one at night too," Sonja said.

""Need someone to scrub your back?" Greg asked.

"Got a scrub brush for that, thank you very little," Sonja snapped. "Get your mind out of my pants for just one minute, okay? Jeez, dude, just how fucking old are you?"

"Okay, okay, just kidding, jeez, don't get PMS over it, damn," Greg grumbled.

"It's not 'joking,' it's 'fishing,' you're hoping I'll nibble the bait, but if I get all bent out of shape, you can just sit there and say 'I was just joking,'" Sonja said. "Believe me, dude, I perfected that shit."

She leaned close to Derek's ear again.

"God, I can't believe what an ass hole I was! What a piece of shit!" she whispered.

"So, what time you take your shower? Derek normally takes one in the morning, but since he wakes up at the ungodly hour of six, it really doesn't matter," Sonja asked.

"I wake up at the ungodly hour of five," Greg declared.

"Oh my God, why?" Sonja asked. "Well, whatever, just try to be quiet until I've had at least one cup of coffee."

****

"George, you remembered my favorite supper in the whole wide world," Tamara smiled as the still quite shaken man put the tuna fish sandwich and tomato soup down in from of the girl.

"Uh yes, yes ma'am," George said. 

"My daddy still feeling sick?" Tamara asked.

"He'll get better, don't you worry," George patted the girl's arm.

"He better," she said. "I told him we're going to have so much fun."

George shudders at the chilling smile the girl wore.

Chapter 9

It had actually been a lot easier than she, or even Derek had imagined. Once she had all the documents from Switzerland, the post office had been very helpful in replacing her 'stolen' passport and the consulate's office issued her a green card with almost no questions at all.

She put all the papers into her purse; Derek was so sweet. He'd bought her the purse and it was a real pretty cream color, went with nearly everything. Greg, she made a face, Greg tried to horn in and tell her he'd been the one to pick it out, but she knew better than that.

Now, now she could go and get a job. 

She smiled sweetly at Washington and he smiled back, opening the door for her.

"Hey, uh, aw, shit, I forgot your name, but I never forget a smile like that," Pat greeted her.

"Okay, got all my Ids this time," Sonja said and put the passport, birth certificate, and citizenship papers in front of him.

"You're from Switzerland?" Pat asked, confused. "I don't remember you saying anything about that."

"Oh!" Sonja said. "Almost forgot! Here's my green card, says I'm legal to work in this country."

"Well, damn, see?" Pat said as he looked over all the documents. "You could have gotten me into real trouble if I had hired you without this stuff."

"Yeah, I know," Sonja, agreed. "But it's okay for me to work now, right?"

"Right," Pat agreed. "Damn, are those tits real?"

"Yeah," Sonja giggled. "I'll let you touch them just this once, but nothing else, okay?"

He groaned as he hefted one massive breast and jiggled it.

"Fuck, they're real; your boyfriend must be one happy mother fucker," Pat said. "God damn! You actually gave me a boner! You know how long that's been?"

"Uh huh," Sonja said. "So, when I start?"

"Tonight if you want," Pat agreed.

Tiffany glared at Sonja when she saw her. Sonja set her face and walked over to the girl.

"Look, I know you and I didn't exactly hit it off the first time we met," she said to the surly, scowling girl. "But I'm hoping we can be friends, all right? No, not like that, just friends, that's all."

"Fine, whatever," Tiffany sneered.

"I mean it, I really don't have a whole lot of friends and I'd really like it if, hey, you know who Pygathoras is, right? My roommates and their friends, they get together on Wednesday nights and Sunday nights and do all kinds of equations and word problems, I bet you'd get into that, huh?" Sonja offered.

"Well, yeah, 'cause of these," Tiffany said, pointing to her large breasts. "It's hard for anyone to take a girl seriously, you know?"

"Well, there's these two girls, they're part of the Pygathorian Consortium, that's what they call themselves, and they're just as smart as the boys," Sonja said.

"They got big tits?" Tiffany asked.

"Well, Terri does, but she's got big everything," Sonja shook her head. "She's a really sweet girl, just likes hitting the sweets too much, you know? Want me to tell Derek..."

"Derek, that was the cute guy's name," Tiffany said.

"Yeah," Sonja said, eyes narrowing slightly. "Derek. Want me to tell Derek you're coming over on Sunday? They like to start at about six, after the football games are over."

"Okay," Tiffany agreed happily.

"Hey, it's me," Sonja said into her cell phone. "Yeah, I got the job; I'm working at The Sahara, no, don't you dare bring Greg and Warren here! Oh Derek! I'd be so embarrassed! Please?"

She told him about Tiffany's wanting to sit in on the next get-together, told him what time she expected to be home, and hung up.

"You're on, Honey," the DJ alerted her. "What's your name, anyway?"

"Sonja," she said.

"That's how you want to be announced?" he asked. "I mean, that's cool, nothing wrong with that name, but most of the girls here use a stage name; don't want any of the jerk-offs finding out where they live or anything."

"Um, how about Bobby?" Sonja giggled.

"Okay, Bobbi it is," he smiled and turned on his microphone.

"Oh baby, baby, baby, ladies and gentlemen, you're in for a treat; tonight, for the first time, The Sahara is proud to introduce Bobbi!"

She smiled sweetly as he cranked up 'Pour Some Sugar On Me,' by Def Leppard and went through the curtain onto the small stage.

"Holy fucking shit, I am in love!" Steve screamed as his hot upstairs neighbor bounced and swayed in front of him.

****

"Hi Daddy," Tamara smiled as she approached the bed.

"Get away from me, you little monster," he weakly cried out.

"Gee, that's funny, Daddy," Tamara giggled. "That's the same thing I used to say when you'd sneak into my room."

"Please, please, haven't you done enough?" he begged.

"Oh, Daddy, don't be so melodramatic," she chided him as she crawled up onto the bed.

She smiled down at him, a chilling smile and his heart nearly stopped.

"Do you have trouble sleeping at night?" she whispered. "Do you have horrible nightmares that never end? Do you wake up screaming, begging for it to stop? Are you afraid to ever let anyone know about the filthy, disgusting, horrible things your Daddy does to you?"

"I didn't, I didn't know it hurt you so bad," he sobbed, soiling his pajamas.

"Like a zephyr, blowing down the house of straw, and the house of sticks, Daddy," she spat. "You blew down all my dreams, Daddy."

"I thought, Tamara, I loved you," he whimpered.