-----BEGIN PGP SIGNED MESSAGE-----



               Tuck Season, Wabbit Season, Tuck Season!
                            Part 3
                              -*-
      Copyright 1999, 2004 by either Joel Lawrence or Ellen Hayes


Any resemblance between the writings in this work, and any actual
persons or places, living or dead, are purely coincidental, except when
used for satirical purposes.

This work contains adult situations, adult language, adult concepts, and
possibly sex.  If you are legally not allowed to read materials
containing such things, then you will be breaking the law by reading
this.  I am not responsible.
Continuing to read this document, or storing it or reproducing it
in any format means that you explicitly affirm that you are legally
allowed to possess and read such materials in your city, county/parish,
state, and country.

All rights reserved.  See the bottom for distribution rights.


***

     Marie had just finished laying the first of the outfits on the bed
when Eugene came scrambling into the room.  "Ah," he said in confusion.
     "You don't have much time," she warned him, and after a second, he
nodded.
     "What do you want to do first," he asked quickly, "clothes or
makeup?"
     Marie's eyebrows raised at the question, but she answered, "Hair."
He shrugged and sat down at the makeup table.  She picked up the second
hairpiece she had selected, and held it up to his hair.  This one was a
good match, as she had anticipated.
     "What is THAT?" Eugene asked, pointing in the mirror at the fall.
     "It's a hairpiece," she explained, "to give you a nicer hairdo,
since your own hair isn't long enough yet."
     He snorted.  "Not what my girlfriend says," he snapped back.
     "Well, I don't think she would recognize you after this," Marie
replied gently.  All she got was another snort, as he folded his arms
defiantly.

     Tucker had to admit to himself, Debbie probably WOULDN'T have
recognized him like this.
     When he'd dressed up as a girl before, he'd displayed some TASTE.
     And today's first example, like raw tofu, had no taste whatsoever.
     The curly hair that resulted from the curler torture last night had
only been exarcerbated by whatever Marie had done with the brush, and by
the hairpiece she'd pinned - it felt like she'd nailed it - to the back
of his head.  It was also improbably long, covering his nipples after
draping over his shoulder.
     That hadn't been enough; she'd concealed the nails and the blood
with a large fabric bow, actually tied around the joint.
     The makeup was subdued, but far too pink-related and pre-teen for
his tastes, and Marie had run the full routine on him, from foundation
through powder to eyeliner and several shades of shadow, blusher, and
just-barely-visible pink lipstick.
     The clothing was white where it wasn't pale yellow - *YELLOW!  UGH!
Even _I_ know that much!* - and drowning in frills and laces, and the
matching little-girl patent-leather shoes had floral-pattern piercings
as well.  His legs were bare, and the skirt - with too many of those
petticoat things, natch - just barely reached his knees, while standing
out sideways like he was a handbell.
     And as a final offense against good taste, it was all synthetics.
     As Tucker was staring at himself in the mirror and trying not to
scream, he remembered his supposition that there was a camera there, and
almost lost it; before he could really move, though, he realized that if
a still photo of this were ever shown to Debbie, she'd KILL whoever had
done this to him.

     "Well, don't you look just darling!" Jane smiled at Eugene.
     The boy just closed his eyes and sighed deeply, looking for all the
world like he was mortally wounded, as he shook his head.  Jane's smile
broadened.

     Tucker sat down at the vanity and looked for makeup remover.
There wasn't any.
     With a sigh, he got up and started towards the bathroom.
Apparently, he WAS supposed to take a shower or wash his face or
something between changes, and he knew that the makeup was going to
discolor the washcloth something fierce...  That was probably supposed
to get him in trouble too, he realized.
     He didn't bother shutting the bathroom door, so he wasn't very
surprised to look up from soaping the washcloth and see Marie in 'front'
of him.  "What are you doing?"
     "I have to get the makeup off, you said?" he reminded her.
     "Why are you in here?"
     "Because there isn't any makeup remover on the table," he stated
patiently, visualizing a large block falling on her head and crushing
her into tomato paste.
     She frowned and left, and just before Tucker started scrubbing
himself, she called, "Yes there is!"
     "Bullshit," Tucker said under his breath, but went to go look.  She
was holding up a large-for-makeup jar of something.
     "Right here," she said.
     "Huh?"  Tucker got closer to look at the label.  "That's cold
cream."
     "That is what women use to remove makeup from their faces."
     "No it is not," Tucker sighed.  The girly crap was hard enough; he
did NOT feel like putting up with a feminine version of a snipe hunt or
antenna oil.  "They use special wipes, or soap."
     "Then, what is this for?" she asked with a slight smile on her
face.
     "Um, uh, it's that stuff you put on before you sleep..."  Tucker
thought hard.  "Uh, keeps your skin oils in or replaces 'em, um-"
     "Moisturizer?"
     "Yeah, that's it," Tucker nodded.  "Something like that."

     "You're late," Jane mentioned.
     "What's cold cream?" Eugene demanded.
     "What?"
     "What do you use cold cream for?"
     "To remove one's makeup," she said, wondering why he was asking
this when Marie should have told him already.
     "You don't use those wipes?"
     "What?"
     He sighed, then stated, "Marie told m-"
     "You may call her 'Miss Marie'," Jane interrupted.
     "Ooookay," he replied insolently.  "An-"
     "And that is not an acceptable response, either."  He glared at
her.  "You have not the slightest bit of courtesy in you, and that is
also something you will correct before you leave here."
     The boy glared at her a second longer, then snapped his heels
together, slammed his arms by his sides while making fists of his hands,
and stood completely upright with chin up and staring straight ahead as
he barked, "Yes Miss Thompson!"
     "This is not boot camp, Eugene."
     "No Miss Thompson!"
     "Would you like to go to boot camp, then?  That can also be
arranged...  We can drop you off in a very short time, dressed just like
that, in fact," she smiled.
     "NO!  Miss Thompson," Eugene emphasized.
     "Then, if you wish to stay here in my house for young ladies," she
smiled, "you had best do your very best to act like a young lady.
Otherwise, I might think you wish to go elsewhere."
     The boy sighed, then deliberately relaxed somewhat, resuming a more
normal posture.

     Tucker wasn't done cursing himself yet as he finished the latest
makeup job.  If he hadn't been so damn clever, or been so damned tired,
he would have stretched out the first one by playing stupid, instead of
jamming it into half an hour.  Now he had to do six by four, and he was
beginning to hurt.  And this wasn't like school, where he could put his
head down and at least close his eyes for a minute.  In fact, he had to
keep them open, because he was jabbing pencils at them every half hour.
     He glared at himself in the mirror, noticing how the red of his
eyes almost matched the lipstick he was wearing.  *Now that's sick,* he
told himself before he could force himself to focus on the image in the
mirror.  *Wait, shithead, you're not wearing lipstick yet.*  He grabbed
some, checked the color on it, and hastily applied it.  *At least it
still had a good edge on it,* he thought as he concentrated on painting.
Lipstick was much, much harder to keep within the lines if it was sort
of well-rounded.
     He smacked his lips, blotted it out with some tissue, and checked
again.  *Good enough for Deb,* he decided, and got up.
     "Miss Marie, is this good enough?" he asked.
     "Well, I hope so," she said, not helping him at all.
     He sighed and turned back to the mirror, and decided that except
for the pinked-out eyes - luckily, his actual lipstick WAS a darker
shade than the 'whites' of his eyes at the moment; it seemed like a
positive thing - he looked good enough.
     As he left, Charlene was standing in her doorway, and smirked at
him.  "Oh, you just look so darling like that!" she burbled, and
laughed.
     "Don't you have some flies to catch?" Tucker flipped back and
walked off.  Behind him, Charlene slammed her door in irritation.
     Tucker was congratulating himself perhaps a little too much when
his foot plunged through the plane of the floor, and he realized too
late that he was at the top of the stairs.
     "OhSH-" he reflexively yelled as he cranked his body around
frantically to avoid smashing his brain into oblivion on the oak steps.
It worked, sort of - he landed on his side instead, slamming his torso
with several painful blows at once.  He'd built up a lot of speed in the
short fall, though, especially when his stupid spine had tried 'flank
forward' instead of 'stop' and gotten a foothold too.  So, instead of
stopping, he slid down the rest of the way on his stomach, arms wrapped
around his head.
     That wouldn't have been so bad, if his swollen nipples hadn't been
exquisitely painful already.  With each step he scraped them firmly over
the edge, with the full weight of his body on them.  His burned leg got
the same treatment a half-step later.  It came too fast and furious for
him to even scream with the pain.
     When he finally reached the bottom and slid to a stop, all he could
do was curl up in a protective ball, much much too late.

     Jane was working on a proposal when she heard an inarticulate
shriek and a series of thuds that sounded like something falling down
the-
     Before she finished the observation, she was out of her chair and
striding quickly out of the parlor.
     When she reached the turn in the hallway that led to the stairs,
she hesitated, because Eugene was curled up on the floor, apparently
asleep.  "Eugene?" she queried.
     He gasped, and tried to turn himself over.  "Ow," he said, quite
clearly.

     Tucker wiped his eyes, which felt like some sadistic
ophthalmologist had sanded them with steel wool.  Jane had let him take
a few minutes off, which was awfully fucking decent of her considering
he couldn't even walk for several minutes after she found him.  *I
wonder if jail would be worse,* he thought.  *I'd have rights there,
they don't allow cruel and unusual punishment...*
     Tucker thought that scraping his nipples, accidentally or not,
counted as cruel and unusual.

     Marie sighed as she watched Eugene attempt to do his makeup for
the last time before tea.  Things were not going quite as planned.  For
one thing, he'd already had two accidents that day, both of them
potentially serious, and he didn't seem to be getting any better.  His
hands were shaking slightly, she'd noticed, and it was definitely
affecting his ability to put on makeup symmetrically and evenly.
     For another, he seemed far more intent on goading Charlene than
she'd imagined.  Usually the new boys were shattered enough emotionally
at this stage that they were not able to keep their wits enough to
torment their 'older' sisters.  Of course, Charlene made that easier
with her temper, which apparently was still not completely under
control.  *Well, if she hasn't learned that fully by now,* Marie mused,
*I think the combination of Eugene plus Jane will teach her to do so.*

     Tucker realized he was running late with the last one, since the
damn garters had turned into bungee cords that kept snapping as he tried
to secure them to the stockings.  *Now I know why women switched to
pantyhose,* he fumed, *no matter what Debbie says.  'Sexy' my ass.*
     He did a quick makeup job in the mirror, going lightly for time's
sake until Marie instructed him that he needed more.  He sighed in
desperation, because if he didn't really hustle, he was going to be
late, and there was going to be hell to pay.  So he scrambled through
the full routine, managing to make several mistakes along the way of
course, which cost him even more time.
     Finally, FINALLY he was finished, and, noting that he had
approximately sixty seconds - if the clock was right - before Things Got
Bad, he lept up from the table and scrambled out the door, grabbing the
frame for a ninety degree vector change which left him stumbling but
still moving fast down the hallway.  Speed was everything, right now...
     He found the stairs this time, aided by the fact that he wasn't
wearing enough petticoats to make his legs invisible, and pounded down
them, skidding a little bit as he made the turn towards the parlor.
     His idea was to hit the door while still moving, but as he tried to
slow down, he realized he didn't have enough traction with the
combination of shoes and floor to slow down in time.
     *Oh shit-*
     Then he belatedly remembered the door handles, but they came up too
fast and he couldn't grab them and turn them in time.

     Charlie, carrying a tray of tea goodies, watched in stunned
amazement as Eugene, dressed 'nicely' in another mess of lacy crap,
slammed full-tilt into the door, bounced off, and landed sitting on his
butt in the hallway.

     "What in heaven's..." Jane asked herself as she got up from her
desk to see what the thumping noise had been.  The shriek made her race
to the door and fling it open, heedless of her usual gentility and
deliberation.
     Eugene was writhing about on the floor in front of the parlor,
clutching his...  *Buttocks?* Jane wondered.

     "Tailbone," Eugene gasped, as Charlie helped him into the parlor.
     "Coccyx," Jane corrected.
     "What EVER!" Eugene hissed angrily.  "Ooooh it hurts it hurts it
hurts..."
     *Maybe I could name him 'Calamity',* Charlie thought.  *This is,
what, three accidents today?*
     As he was about to lower the other boy to a seat, Eugene forced his
hand off.  "I think," he breathed, "I think sitting would be a bad idea
at the moment..."
     "Very well," Jane stated, "you may stand.  And you have not yet
been inspected for your latest attempt..."
     Charlie managed to repress his groan; Eugene did not.

     Tucker watched carefully as the tea was brewed and poured, and made
sure that the other two sipped at theirs before he had any of his.
Likewise, he made sure that he didn't take the obvious 'biscuit' from
any of the plates.  *I hate being on poison watch,* he sighed mentally.
Still, it was best not to take any chances.  And he had to eat
SOMETHING.

     "Well, Eugene," Jane smiled deliberately at the petticoated youth,
who had gradually become more and more angry as she gently taunted and
chided him during the tea, alternating between corrections to his
behaviour and syrupy praise, all based on his effeminacy (or lack
thereof).  "You have made some small but perceptible progress this
afternoon; I think another round of the same would have similar salutary
effects, don't you agree?"
     "Huh?  What's 'salutary' mean?"
     Jane managed to repress a sigh.

     "Well, you look quite nice," Marie said as she stood the newest boy
in front of the large three-way mirror.
     "Mmmm hmm," Eugene replied sardonically.
     "Really, this is quite beautiful, and I think the blue brings out
your eyes."  He had been given a pale blue dress with short puffed
sleeves, a sailor collar, and white lace trim, along with the required
petticoats, white knee socks, and black patent maryjanes.  A white lace
ribbon wrapped around the hairpiece's attachment point and Eugene's
self-applied light makeup completed the look of a tall but young girl,
perhaps ten years old, wanting to look nice for church.
     Eugene stated, "I'd prefer it if they stayed in their sockets."
     Marie didn't get it until after he had left.

     "'Fix tea, Charlene', 'Why don't you handle dinner tonight
Charlene', 'Oh you look so darling in that Charlene'.  God, I hate this
place..."  Charlie rubbed his forehead and tried to remember if there
was anything weird about fixing fresh green beans.

     Miss Marie had needed to go 'powder her own nose' and had left
Tucker sitting in front of the vanity, supposedly doing his makeup.  His
eyes, however, were aching so bad that he closed them, which made them
feel a little better, and then he accidentally blanked.
     "Eugene!"
     He woke up, seeing first himself in the mirror, and almost made a
dive for it as he connected the name he'd been called with the painted
face in the mirror and the shock that NO ONE should ever connect the
two.  "Oh god," he sighed, and put his head into his hands in an attempt
to collect his wits.
     The hand that grabbed his shoulder, he slapped off without thinking
and spun the other way on the bench before snapping upright, ending up
facing a surprised-looking Marie.
     "Uh, don't touch me without warning me," he said as he concentrated
on the words, just remembering to add a, "please ma'am," at the end.
     "Very well," she said, sounding a little skeptical.
     *Well, I warned her,* Tucker thought.  *If she doesn't believe
me...*  He mentally shrugged; he'd watch it as much as he could, but the
more tired he got, the less he was in control of his reactions.

     "You cooked?"  The new kid didn't seem to believe it.
     "Yes, I cooked dinner," Charlie almost snarled.
     "And they're making you dress for dinner too?" Eugene asked before
Charlie could think of something nasty to snap at him.
     "What?" Charlie asked, confused now.
     "You cooked, like a couple hours, and then you have to serve AND
dress up for dinner?"  He shook his head.  "Man, that's unbelievable.
My mom'd have a cow if someone told her to do that."
     Charlie shrugged.  "Yes, well, Aunt Jane wants me to become a
'proper young lady' in all ways," he said just in case she was sneaking
up on him, which she had a habit of doing.  He'd rather have said,
'She's a complete lunatic psycho bitch,' but that was exactly the sort
of thing that Jane discouraged, and Charlie had become very discouraged
over the months he'd been here.

     *I wonder if any of it has been poisoned,* Tucker wondered, looking
at the currently empty place setting.  He looked up at Charlene, and
asked in a low voice, "Uh, does she-"
     "Well, ladies," Jane announced as she came in silently, making
Tucker flinch in surprise.  She'd changed clothes too, he noted, and
possibly showered; she looked a lot cooler and more collected than he
felt.  Then again, so did Charlene, and Marie, and probably everyone
within a ten mile radius.  He FELT like he'd been run over a few times
by a large truck, but Marie had showed him how to use concealer under
his eyes, and had also conjured up some Visine which fixed the eyes
themselves, at least for now.  So he looked almost normal.
     If you consider the single-digit-aged party dress he was in to be
'normal', which he didn't.
     "You look very sweet and winsome this evening, Eugene," Jane smiled
directly at Tucker.
     He almost cursed at her, but blocked it in time to keep it from
getting out; however, the response lag was apparently enough to pop her
into lecture mode.
     He made the right noises, concentrating on her as much as he could,
and finally she shut up and sat down, which meant that he could also sit
down, finally.  *Too fast,* he realized as he hissed in pain and
reflexively popped back up, but before Jane could say anything he was
trying it again, slower this time.
     Marie came out bearing a large salad bowl, and Tucker had to think
long and hard about whether or not they could have drugged that, but she
ended up tossing it enough times to randomize it, and he decided that
unless it was something like arsenic or iocaine powder, anything in the
bowl would end up getting all of them, and he didn't think they'd take
that risk.

     "Eugene, you may eat now," Jane prompted.  Marie had brought out
the main course and served them all, but Eugene had not yet begun.
     "Excuse me, Miss Thompson," Eugene said as he looked at his plate.
"I don't feel very hungry."
     "You had enough of the salad," she pointed out.  He'd had two bowls
as fast as he could manage to wield his utensils, with Jane's
admonitions just barely hindering him from stuffing it into his cheeks.
He'd still eaten quite quickly, but now he was looking...  *Well,
certainly he doesn't seem to want any more,* she mused, watching him
intently.
     He finally looked up, but at Charlene instead of her, and said, "No
offense, Charlene, but I just don't feel like eating any more."
     "That's quite alright," she said softly in response, as Jane
wondered why he had apologized to Charlene.
     "May I be excused?" Eugene asked as he turned towards Jane.
     "No, you will stay here at the table until the rest of us are
done," Jane stated.  "To leave during the main course of a meal is quite
rude."
     "Yes ma'am," he agreed with a sigh.
     And, true to his statement, he didn't eat another bite for the rest
of the meal, even when tempted with another piece of peach pie a la
mode.  Jane knew that Marie was trying to tempt the boy into eating
more, because the ice cream certainly hadn't been on the menu, but he
just shook his head when Marie offered it to him, and when corrected
merely declined it in a tired voice.

     *This is the first ice cream I've had since I've been here,*
Charlie realized as he dug in.  *Little dumbass doesn't realize what
he's missing, I guess.  He shouldn't have had all that salad.*

     After dismissing the two teens, Eugene to prepare for bed and a
last inspection and Charlene to do the dishes and cleanup, Jane beckoned
Marie into the parlor.
     "Well, and how did your business go?" Marie asked first.
     "Well enough," Jane said with a nod.  "I wish the phones would
start working again, though.  Being without them is crippling."
     "Perhaps you should get a cellular?"
     "I'm not sure they cover this far out," Jane admitted.  "Right now,
I do wish I had one.  In any case," she changed the subject, "how is
Eugene doing?"
     "He's... shy," Marie said as she collected her thoughts.  "He
insists that I turn around whenever he is uncovered, and he's even
struggling to put on his own pettis at this point, just to avoid me
seeing him.  He also...  I had to visit the ladies' room while he was
doing his makeup, and when I came out he had just stopped, his eyes
closed.  When I called to him, he opened his eyes, but he didn't seem
very alert, and when I touched his shoulder he slapped it off and stood
up before I could do more than take a step back."
     "He-"
     "No, wait," Marie insisted.  "He said, mmm, 'Um please don't touch
me without warning me, please ma'am,' immediately.  So I do not think it
was a deliberate move to hurt me.  But...  I do not think we should
touch him without warning him in the future, Jane.  He seems to react
badly to it, and without thinking."
     Jane sighed.  "Well, I'll try and keep that in mind.  Anything
else?"
     "He's not fighting very much, but he does seem to be very
displeased with what he's been wearing," Marie smiled.  "He won't
complain with words, but the looks and sighs and muffled groans tell me
he is unhappy with them."
     "Good," Jane nodded.  "That is just what we want, of course."
     "And he didn't know what cold cream was for!" Marie chuckled.  "He
thought it was moisturizer or some other before-bed lotion."

     "This has not been the best Monday of my life," Tucker told himself
in the mirror.  His bruises hurt, his burn REALLY hurt, his entire body
ached with the need for rest, and he was hungry enough to start
wondering what sort of wildlife was in the woods.
     And he still wasn't sure what these crazy bitches were up to, with
the girly-girl stuff.  Obviously, she'd had this 'petticoat discipline'
in mind for a long time, since this stuff fit too well to be improvised,
and was too out of fashion to be easily bought.  *On the other hand,
Charlene had to wear some of it too; maybe that's part of the usual or
something.*  Tucker shrugged; he wasn't quite as concerned about
Charlene as he was about himself, at this point.  *What the hell is
'Jane Thompson' doing?*
     He'd done what she'd ordered, except for shaving his legs again -
they didn't need it and he wasn't going to take the risk of slicing
himself up - and wearing a bra, because no one wore a bra to sleep.  And
so he was standing and waiting, or pacing and waiting when he got too
tired to stand safely.

     "You're not wearing a bra," Jane mentioned, "and I told you-"
     "No one wears a bra to sleep in!" he protested.
     "Do NOT interrupt me!"
     "Excuse me, Miz Thompson, but women, and girls, don't wear bras
when they sleep in my experience, unless they have to.  Like camping or
something," he added.
     "And how many girls and women are in your experience?" Jane asked
sarcastically.
     He began counting silently on his fingers, and when he'd used up
both hands' worth, Jane snorted in disbelief.  "And you expect me to
believe that?"
     He looked at her, and sighed.  "No, ma'am, you wouldn't."
     "Eugene," Jane said sharply, "you will not be insolent with me, is
that understood?"
     "I wasn't being insolent!" he whined.
     "I am the judge of that, and you were indeed," she retorted.
     He closed his eyes and sighed deeply, his entire body heaving.
Jane stepped forward and reached out a hand to grasp his shoulder, and
his eyes snapped open as he took a quick step backwards.  "D-" he
started, then swallowed and stated, "Please don't touch me without
warning, Miz Thompson.  I don't react well to it."
     "Well, and aren't you just the macho warrior type tonight," Jane
taunted.
     "As you can see," Eugene said in a good imitation of a girl, and
dipped his knees a bit as he pinched the skirt of his nightgown with
both hands and spread it in a mock curtsey.
     "I see, my dear, a very fetching young girl," Jane smiled.

     Tucker had a sudden image of Charlene in a similar fluffy nightgown
running and barking as Jane threw a stick.  *Fetch, Charlene, fetch!*

     The smile on Eugene's face disappeared as quickly as it had arisen,
and he shook his head sharply, as if to dispel an errant thought.
     "And we shall deal with your insolent attitude tomorrow, my young
dear," Jane stated as she handed him the bra he had refused, "but for
now, you need to put this on so you can get your beauty rest.  And don't
think about being late downstairs a second time in a row."
     "No ma'am," the boy replied stolidly, with just a glint of
resentment in his face.
     "Now go put that bra on," she commanded, and pointed him towards
the bathroom.  He sighed, and trudged into the room and shut the door.
Jane waited until he reappeared, and made sure to check that he was
indeed wearing it.
     "Very well, young lady.  Sweet dreams," Jane smiled, and turned off
the overhead light and exited the room before turning to lock him in for
the night.

     Tucker closed his eyes momentarily, and almost fell over again.
"Yeah, well, first things first," he said quietly to himself, and turned
out the lamp on the bedside table and waited for his eyes to adjust as
he stood there.
     After several minutes, and three almost-falls as he started to go
to sleep while standing up, he could see enough to go to the bathroom to
get towels to spread over the mirrors and their presumed cameras.  "Next
thing is the cable lock," he agreed, and dug that out, then decided to
go to the bathroom first.
     Coming back, he locked the cable around his ankle, and sent off a
generalized prayer that the nightmares would miss him tonight.

     Charlie yawned, and finally decided that he didn't care what Jane
said to him tomorrow, he was going to go to sleep rather than work on
this stupid book report any more.  He scratched himself through the
nightgown as he stood up, then moved over to the bed.
     "God I hate this place," he sighed.
     As he lay back, trying to relax enough to sleep, a short scream
from another room made him sit up and wonder what the hell was going on.
When the sound wasn't repeated, he finally gave up listening and lay
back down.  "Maybe it was just a nightmare," he decided finally.  And
this place was certainly enough to give them to you.

     "Oh, god," Tucker moaned when he could finally convince himself he
was back in the 'real' world.  "Aliens are bad enough, but quislings?"
He wrapped himself in as many of the sheets as he could pull loose, and
waited for the shaking to stop and his body to warm up again.

     "Idiots," Jane cursed, and put the dead phone back on its cradle.
She wanted to talk to Art, if she couldn't have him in bed, but yet
again she was going to get neither.  "At least Eugene seems to be coming
along well enough," she sighed to herself.

     Tuck had ditched the nightgown, taken two Vivarin, and rearranged
his gear as well as he could, and since it was midnight and he hadn't
heard any water-piping noises or footstep-creaks for quite some time, he
decided that it would be good to go find a NIC and check in.
     It took him a very nervous half hour, by watch time - personal time
had felt like two hours - to make it downstairs to the parlor room, but
he'd finally made it, confirmed that the phone was connected via RJ-11,
and plugged in his homemade lineman's phone to test the line.
     Which was dead; not a volt on any of the wires, said the meter.
     *Whattafuck?  How can she not have a PHONE?  And I KNOW I saw a fax
machine in her office...  Shit!  Maybe it's locked mechanically or
something?  Damnit...*  Since her office was presumably located next to
her bedroom, checking there was out for the moment.  *Wonder how well
the place is alarmed?*
     Well enough, he had to agree three hours later.  He'd stealthily
checked every room on the first floor, then the basement, and every
phone and jack he'd found was dead, even the old four-prong ones, and
every window and door seemed to have been altered in just the places a
semi-competent alarm service would run sensors, as well as the
glaringly-obvious silver tape on the glass itself.
     "Damn that stinking bitch," Tucker whispered to himself, "she shut
off all the easy stuff."  The central alarm control box itself was
'hidden' in the kitchen, and would be easy enough to suborn, if he had
more tools, which he did not.  And he didn't have time tonight to make a
sling ladder he could climb, and get back in.  Assuming the upper floor
windows weren't alarmed either...
     *Hmm, didn't check yet,* he realized, and headed upstairs.
     And the amount and variety of the women's clothing he'd found
stored in the basement had not been reassuring.
     Luckily, he found when he'd made his silent way back to his room,
they hadn't considered thief-acrobats in their site planning; the window
in his room was both non-alarmed and had no breakage sensor attached,
and the 'lock' was so worthless Tucker almost laughed out loud.  *Oh my
god, this wouldn't even keep out a raccoon!*
     He spent some more time carefully removing the screws that held the
lock to the window, sawing the shafts off with the hacksaw blade, gluing
the heads back onto the baseplate, and gently and quietly making sure
that the window would now open and shut freely while appearing to be
locked.  When that was finished, the fatigue hit him like a baseball
bat, so he carefully re-hid his gear, urinated and flushed the metallic
dust once again, and went back to bed, locking himself in.  Four
o'clock, he noted before his eyes shut.
     *Tomorrow I ask Charlene about the phones, and see about getting
that alarm code, and then make a rope ladder,* he decided before he
passed out.

     Mike checked his email one last time before going to bed, and
Tucker still hadn't sent anything since the train station.  "Shit."
*Tuck should at least have been able to get to a pay phone...  Of
course, maybe the phone is out; that happens...*  "Yeah, right," he
sighed.

     "Okay, guys, this isn't funny!" Tucker called, but there was no
answer from anyone.  He'd lost them in the department store a while ago,
or they'd lost him, and he was getting tired of wandering around looking
for them.  And he was hungry.
     A noise from behind him made him turn, and he froze as one of the
display mannequins moved a bit.  Then it looked right at him.
     Then it swelled up into a black carapaced giant and hissed.
     Tucker ran like hell, but the warrior - still wearing the remains
of a pink fluffy dress - was just behind him, and too close, and then he
tripped on a cord and the thing grabbed his ankle as he fell-

     The shrieked, high-pitched, "MotherFUCKER!" from the room across
the hall woke Charlie up, but then he didn't hear anything else.  He was
about to go back to sleep when his alarm went off.
     "Another day in paradise," he sighed.

     "Goddamnit goddamnit goddamnit I am not watching those fucking
movies again right before I go ANYwhere!" Tucker hissed, more in
panicked reaction than rage at that point.

     Charlie thought he heard something weird, so instead of drying his
hair, he threw on a gown and a robe and opened his bedroom door.
Hunting a bit, he found himself outside the walls of Eugene's bathroom,
where it became clear enough to make out.
     "Bow down before the one you serve.
      You're going to get what you deserve.
      Head like a hole!  Black as your soul!
      I'd rather die, than give you control!"
     "Nine Inch Nails," Charlie identified.  "Nice sentiments, but I
don't think it's going to be that easy."

     Jane sighed once again at the lack of her husband, and picked up
her hairbrush.  *I much prefer it when he does this,* she thought at
her mirrored self.

     Tucker was glad that Mar-  *MISS Marie thankyouverymuchsir,* Tucker
reminded himself - had shown him how to use concealer under his eyes the
day before.  He didn't feel the need to give any of them any more levers
on him than they already had, like a visual cue that he was dead tired.
     *And she left the Visine, too.  Great!*  He might end up looking
almost normal.
     Then he remembered the nightgown.  "Aw, shit," he mumbled.

     "Oh, God," Sandy moaned when she looked at herself in the mirror.

     Tucker was still hungry, and wishing he could eat something, when
he realized, *Shit!  I could have had something while I was sneaking
around last night!  DAMNIT!*
     As it was, though, most of breakfast was on communal serving
plates, and so he just had to make sure he didn't eat the first bit of
anything.  And, he had to avoid protein in general, because it would
make him sleepier, which was too dangerous; he was already sleep-
deprived, not having slept well since Friday night, and this was
definitely not a healthy place to take a nap.  So, it was toast and
toppings, and fruit.

     *Well, at least his appetite seems to be back,* Jane mused,
watching as the gown-clad boy began shoveling food into his mouth.
"Eugene, you must take smaller bites and chew more, because otherwise
you won't be able to respond politely to a question.  Do you
understand?"
     His frantic chewing and glaring told her that he did indeed
understand.

     After ten or fifteen minutes of the abuse, which Tucker was
beginning to think was specifically planned to eventually drive him into
anorexia, his appetite wilted.  He didn't even bother asking to be
excused this time, he just sat - straight up with hands folded politely
in his lap - and tried to respond correctly to Jane's constant prodding.
*Well, at least I'll lose some weight,* Tucker sighed to himself.

     *That boy has a stomach the size of a tennis ball,* Jane grumbled.
She herself wasn't nearly full, but Eugene had obviously stopped eating
like he had at dinner the night before, and was waiting to be released
rather than eating enough to sustain himself.  *But he ate well at
Sunday luncheon... and Sunday dinner, and Monday at lunch, too.  Maybe
he's having a bit of stomach trouble.*  "Eugene, are you feeling all
right?" she asked.

     *Like I'd tell you!* Tucker shrieked in his mind.  "Yes ma'am," he
lied with a smile, trying to imitate Charlene's empty-headed
cheerfulness.  "I'm fine."  The gentle tone Jane had used on him was
unexpected, but he wasn't going to be fooled.

     *Probably off his feed from that nightmare,* Charlie decided,
remembering the morning's scream.

     "Well, Eugene," Jane addressed the silent sullen youth after she'd
patted her lips, "how do you feel about some more trying on of your
delightful new clothing?"
     "Do I have a choice?" he snapped back.
     As Charlene sucked in a surprised breath, Jane carefully sneered,
"No, in fact, you do not.  You will return upstairs, change into what
Miss Marie provides for you, and then come downstairs - within half an
hour - and then we will discuss your attitude at length."
     "Yes ma'am," he practically spat.
     Jane debated calling the boy on his insolent tone, and decided to
let it wait until later in her program.  Mere obedience was all she
could reasonably expect at this point, though if he didn't start
knuckling under a bit more as the day progressed, she'd have to step up
the pressure upon him.  "Then you are excused."
     He pushed his chair back and stood still for just a moment, before
wheeling and exiting.

     Tucker was tensing and relaxing his legs as much as he could, as he
stood before Jane and endured another of her endless lectures, this one
on the submissive happy carpet-like attitude he was supposed to have.
He was far less concerned with what she was blathering than he was with
staying on his feet and not fainting, but he still had to pay attention
and respond correctly.
     *Obviously a graduate of the 'talk them to death' school of
discipline.  I can't figure out which is worse, pushups or this.*
     "Do you understand me?"
     "Yes ma'am," Tucker agreed.  *Bend like willow.  Mind like water.
Spine like jelly-  No, don't think that, stupid.  Stay awake!*
     "Then," Jane ordered, "you will return upstairs and Miss Marie will
show you your next outfit.  You are to be back down here in thirty
minutes, fully made up again, but this time..."
     *This is worse,* he decided.

     "I think the tour of the grounds and an introduction to Tom, just
before lunch," Jane said to Charlene.  "You'll need to change into
something appropriate."
     "Yes ma'am," the older student said in a good facsimile of
cheerfulness.
     "Now, to your book report."

     "Where do you GET all this stuff?" Eugene complained when Marie
held up his next garment, a brilliant yellow flowered dress with plenty
of lace edging, and a hemline that wouldn't conceal his panties even if
he stood straight.  Jane had decreed that he needed to be 'taken back'
even further in the apparent age of his clothing.
     "Our young ladies have sometimes not had the appropriate childhood
experiences," Marie dodged.
     He just sighed and rubbed his forehead with both hands, before
taking the garment into the closet to change into it.

     Tucker sat silently as Marie fluffed his hair and tied the matching
ribbon/windmill in his hair, but when she handed him a doll, one of the
hard plastic infant types, he protested, "What is THIS?"
     "A little girl such as you appear to be, should have a dolly," she
smiled.
     "A dolly?" Tucker wondered out loud.  *Am I dreaming?*
     "Little girls love to imitate their mothers, and one of the most
important parts is that of caring for a baby," Marie instructed.
     *I'm having another nightmare.*
     "This," Tucker said as he tapped on the thing's forehead, "bears as
much resemblance to a baby, as a Link trainer does to an airplane!"
     "What?"
     He'd obviously confused her.  "Look," he said, trying to be
patient, and held the thing up by one leg.  "Babies can't be treated
like this, they weigh too much, way more than this, and their limbs
aren't strong enough to be held like this.  They don't always close
their eyes when horizontal, they don't conveniently piss right after
feeding, and their diapers DEFINITELY don't smell as nice as whatever
you put down the pipes of this one.  And this thing makes NO noise at
all," he finished.  "This isn't a baby, this is a lawn gnome."
     Her mouth opened, but nothing came out immediately.
     "Plus, for a three year old," he added, "this thing's like a
baseball bat.  Kids use 'em to whack each other with."
     "How do you know so much about children?" Marie challenged.
     "I've been around a few."  *Like, nine at once.*  "Even a Cabbage
Patch doll is better than this!"

     "Now, try it again," Jane instructed.  Charlene grabbed Jane's arm
from behind and applied pressure from her fingertips, this time in the
right place, making Jane's arm tingle.  "Yes, that's it.  Be sure to
grab Eugene in exactly that way when he balks."
     "Yes ma'am," Charlene said as she let go and rubbed her own arm,
apparently remembering her own introduction to the groundskeeper.

     *Ask and ye shall receive.  Idiot.*
     Tucker was now holding a Cabbage Patch doll, which was only vaguely
an improvement over the plastic thing.  The insipid expression on its
face was vaguely disquieting, and he had to fight an urge to yell at it
to stop looking at him like that.
     *I am not holding up too well.*
     "And don't forget to unbundle your pettis," Charlene said from out
of nowhere.
     "Gahhh!" Tucker commented as he inadvertantly clutched the doll to
his chest.  Which hurt, enough to make him freeze.
     Charlene laughed as she shut a door.
     Tucker waited until his heart had settled back into a normal rhythm
before continuing to the parlor, swishing his butt this time.  "Standin'
in the front just-a shakin' yo' ass," he smiled to himself.  The rhythm
held him up as he walked.

     "And what a cute dolly!" Jane enthused.  "What's her name?"
     "Boudicca," Eugene replied in a rather high-pitched nasal voice.
     "Pardon me?" Jane blurted, astonished.
     "Boudicca," he repeated, "she was a great Celtic warrior queen who
beat up the Roman Empire."
     After a few moment's recovery, Jane said, "I think your dolly
should have a more gentle name, my darling."
     "I LIKE my dolly's name," he smiled.
     "How about Mary-Anne?  I think Mary-Anne is a fine name for a
little girl's dolly," Jane said without waiting for an answer.  "Now,
come here and let me see the rest of you, you sweet thing."  He stopped
smiling and grudgingly walked towards her.

     "I dun tink I cadd cub in today, Caro," Sandy groaned.  "I feel
like absolude hell."
     "You sound it," Carolyn agreed sympathetically.  "Stay home and
rest, I'll cancel your appointments for the next two- no, three days,
and you let me know how you are doing every day, okay?"
     "Okay," Sandy moaned.
     "And go to the doctor."
     "Id's just a code, Caro-"
     "Don't argue, or I'll tell Marie you're sick."
     "Oh Gawd.  Okay, I'll go."

     "Sweeeeeeeeeeeet emooooooootion," Tucker sang to himself as he
trudged up the stairs, one hand for the doll and one hand for the
railing.
     "Talkin 'bout things that nobody cares,
      Wearin' out things that nobody wears..."
     It was a sign of how tired he was that he could almost hear the
guitars growling in time.  On the other hand, it was just the right
tempo for climbing stairs.  And he needed the help.

     Charlie had been surprised to see just how far down Jane could go,
clothing-wise.  But, he was also a little relieved, that he hadn't been
forced into anything like that.  *Yet,* he reminded himself.
     A few moments before Eugene came out of his room for yet another
inspection, Charlie made sure he was waiting in the hallway.
     This time, Eugene was in blue satin that barely covered his crotch,
and beribboned pigtails, of all things.  Charlie could just see hints of
white lace ruffles on his legs, too.  He let out an involuntary whistle.

     Tucker took a deep breath and closed his eyes, and part of him
dropped a Phoenix off to the left which ignited, tracked, and slammed
into Charlene in a big fireball.  He wished the heat on his face was
afterburners...
     "I think you've, uh, annoyed Aunt Jane," Charlene said in a neutral
voice.
     *HARM launch,* Tucker thought, and another missile flared and
rushed away.  *Chaff flare chaff flare-*
     "Eugene?"
     "Yeah?" he sighed, opening his eyes.  Charlene was not flaming
wreckage tumbling down slowly from a bright sky, unfortunately; she was
still standing there in an outfit that looked quite upscale.  And
mature.
     "What did you do?"
     "Ask her," he replied.  "I gotta go."  He walked past her, and she
did get out of his way enough for him to pass, which was good.  And she
hadn't laughed at him, which made no sense whatsoever.
     He slipped on the stairs, but this time fell backwards and merely
bruised his rear again.  *Forgot to hold onto the railing,* he sighed as
his teeth clenched around the scream.  When he could move again, he
hauled himself upwards.  *Maybe I should just slide down on my butt like
a baby, too.  That'd be safer...  Nah, she'd bitch at me for wrinkles or
something.  As if any kid before age five can even understand things
like that.*
     God, he wanted to sleep.  And eat.

     "And do you think you have learned your lesson, Miss Wallace?" Jane
asked.
     "Yes ma'am," Eugene said in a carefully neutral voice.
     "Very well, then.  You have been doing better this morning, so I
think perhaps you could use a short break before lunch.  Charlene will
show you the grounds.  Would you like to change first?"
     He sighed, his eyes closing momentarily.  "Yes ma'am."
     "Then go upstairs and tell Marie that you are going for a stroll
outside.  She will find you something beautiful to wear for your
constitutional."
     "Yes ma'am."
     "Eugene?"
     "Yes ma'am?" he asked.
     "Doesn't the thought of something beautiful make you want to say
something other than a plain 'yes ma'am'?  Like 'thank you'?"
     He looked her straight in the eye for several seconds, blinking
slowly.  "Thank you, Miz Thompson," he finally uttered.  "I'm sure I'll
be delighted."
     "Now," Jane instructed, "try saying it as if you actually had
emotions, rather than reading - and badly - lines in a play."
     Eugene took two breaths and let them out, then smiled and repeated
his earlier comment, sounding much more authentically happy.  Jane knew
he wasn't, but that wasn't the point.  "Very good," she nodded.  "Now
run along, sweetheart, and remember to be careful of your dolly."

     "Shhhhh," Tucker sighed as he made his way out of the parlor area.
The fear was beginning to wear him down, and fast.  *That, and the lack
of food, and the lack of just a time to rest and feel safe,* he
remembered.  *The only thing's she's missing are the beatings and the
sensory-deprivation parts.*  He shook his head.  *Not gonna break me,
though.  At least,* he amended, *until and unless she starts beating me.
Or worse.*

     "I godda waid how log?" Sandy anguished.
     "She's full until four this afternoon, ma'am," the receptionist
repeated.
     "Augh!"  And Caro WOULD call Marie if she didn't go to the doctor
today.  "Ogay, four o'glock."

     *Looks like Laura Ashley,* Tucker sighed as Marie pulled a very
floral dress out of the closet.  *At least it's got a hemline past my
navel.*  The print was also far less 'busy' than the stuff he'd been
wearing, at least the dresses that had been prints and not pastels.
     He took it from her, and she went back into the closet.  "I'm not
wearing heels with this," he warned.
     "And why not?"
     "This is outside, right?  Dirt or gravel?" Tuck confirmed.
     She came out and looked at him before agreeing, "Some parts, yes?"
     "Those sorts of terrain ruin heels," Tucker said.  *You'd think
with all this girly stuff around, that they'd know what fucks up what.*
"So, I don't want to get in trouble, so I need some matching sandals or
flats or something, and nothing with a heel on it, or it's going to work
like one big cleat and catch all the mud and grass I step in."
     "Alright, I think we have some lovely sandals for you," she nodded
before diving back into the closet.
     "Shew," Tucker sighed in relief before sliding the dress over the
slip he'd already put on.  "Hey, how hot is it outside, anyway?"

     Charlie had been waiting downstairs for at least five minutes, and
trying to think of a name.  Unfortunately, all he could come up with
was weird ones like 'Eunice'.  Jane had already told him he couldn't use
'Jean' in case the brat was called 'Gene' at home, which seemed like a
stupid thing to Charlie but he'd wised up enough not to argue.
     That didn't help him think of a name, though.  *Gene, Jean...
Jennifer...  Jane?  That would be funny, but she'd never allow THAT one;
someone might laugh or something.  Jenny, Janey, Jolene, Jo...  God,
these all suck,* he worried.  *Eugena?  Is that even a name?*
     Footsteps distracted him, and he turned to look as Eugene made his
entrance.  He looked a whole lot better in the more mature clothing he
had on now, Charlie decided.  And the blue in the print brought out his
blue eyes.  And had Marie gotten a matching floral hair ribbon?  "You
look quite nice," Charlie smiled.
     "I like the hat," Eugene smiled back.
     Charlie hated the hat he had on, but Jane had insisted.  He smiled
anyway and replied, "Thank you."
     "Eugene," Jane said from the side, and Charlie saw his expression
stiffen.  "You did not thank Charlene for her compliment."
     "Thank you Charlene, you're too kind," he recited at Charlie,
rolling his eyes just slightly.  Charlie successfully repressed a smirk.
     "Very well, then," Jane said as she apparently let this one pass
for now.  "Girls, be back by noon for lunch."
     "Yes ma'am," Charlie said, a little before Eugene could, and
curtsied.  Eugene watched her and just shook his head a little, slowly.
"Come on," he said brightly to Eugene, and motioned towards the door,
gracefully like Jane had trained him to do.
     They walked out onto the pool deck, and Charlie shut the doors
behind them.  They walked past the pool in silence, as Charlie tried to
think of a good name.  *Jackie?  Jean Gray?  No...  Juliet?  Oh, god,
that's stupid.  Eust-  I think I can skip anything like Jane's been
calling him.  Uhhh...*
     "Are we out of sight?" Eugene asked.
     "What?"
     "Is she watching us from upstairs, you think?"
     *Probably.*  "I don't think so," he lied.
     "Better to assume she is, come on," he sighed, and trudged towards
a copse of trees.
     "Where're you going?"
     "Someplace I can get out of sight of that woman," he said.  "She
might be able to lip-read."
     "What?"
     "Nothinggggg..."  He looked back several times as they entered the
trees, and then stopped.  Charlie stopped too and looked back, and he
couldn't really see any of the house at all from where they were.
     "Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckshitgoddamngoddamngoddamn," Eugene intoned,
startling Charlie, and when he turned back around, the kid was
stretching his arms out in what looked like a very painful fashion and
cursing continuously.  Then he twisted his torso from side to side, then
straighted out and squatted for a long moment before flinging his hands
out behind him and 'crab-walking' a couple of feet.  Then, he wriggled
his hands closer to his body again, and flipped himself into a standing
position.
     And from the tone of his voice, he hadn't stopped cursing yet,
though it sounded as though he'd switched into another language or
something, because Charlie didn't even recognize the words any more.
"Shy-suh!" he finished as he dusted off his hands, then bent over and
touched his toes silently and held it for several seconds.
     "Feeling better?" Charlie asked when he stood back upright.
     "Oh, yeah, tons," Eugene grinned.  "That house has too much
recession, man!"
     Charlie couldn't see any signs of an economic downturn in Jane's
mansion, but he didn't feel like saying anything.  *Maybe Eugene's mom
is really rich or something.*
     As they began walking again, Charlie subtly turned them towards the
stables, where Jane had said that Tom and his assistant would be working
today.

     "An' a little more magic dust for Santa Claus," Tucker said under
his breath.  "An' a little MORE magic dust for Santa Claus..."
     "Where we going?" he asked out loud.
     "I thought I could show you the stables," Charlene replied.  "Do
you like horses?"
     "No.  Thousand pound herbivores with a brain smaller than my fist
are not my idea of a good time."
     "What?"
     *You are dumb,* Tucker decided.  "I do not like horses," he
condensed.
     "Well, she said to show them to you, and she'll probably ask about
it when we get back, so come on," Charlene said, sounding just slightly
more enthusiastic than he felt about the entire matter, which was not at
all.  Except for being away from that crazy bitch and her Igor, of
course.  *Maybe we could take the long way back...  Like, around the
coastline of the continents?  Take the long way home...  If you're the
joke of the neighborhood, why should you care if you're feelin' good,
you take the long way home...*
     The music was rich in his head as they turned a corner and
encountered two workers, doing the inevitable and endless job of mucking
out the stables, it looked like.
     As Tucker stopped in mild surprise and started to say hello,
Charlene grabbed his arm and pinched the nerve in it hard enough to make
the entire arm go sparkly with pain.
     "Ahhh!" Tucker yelped as he twisted and slammed Charlene in the
forehead with the palm of his hand.  "WhaddaFUCK?" he complained as he
rubbed his half-numbed arm furiously and Charlene fell backwards onto
the ground.
     "You SHIT," she hissed as she levered herself upright.
     Tucker warned her, "Don't fucking DO-" but she did it anyway,
rushing up to him and trying to slap or punch him.  He blocked that,
whatever it was; it was pretty lame anyway, even though he was tired.
     She kicked him hard in his left shin, which HURT, almost connected
with a fist to the head that ended up scraping through his hair, and
then rushed him for an apparent body block; Tucker stepped sideways,
grabbed her and stuck his right leg between hers, and threw her over his
knee.  She stumbled forward a few more feet, just missing the workman
that tried to catch her, and finally fell face down-
     Right into the manure pile, with a very mushy sounding Splut.
     Pause.
     "Oh no," Tucker sighed into his hands.

     "Maybe we can hose her off here first," Eugene said as Charlie got
helped out of the pile of horseshit.
     "Hose?" Charlie gasped.
     "Yeah, look, Shar, you go back in the house like THAT, dripping,
uh, they're gonna do worse to you than they are to me.  So you hose off
first, so you're just wet instead of, uh..."
     "I can't believe you did this to me!" Charlie shrieked as his
emotions caught back up, finally.  Being thrown into a pile of horse
shit was apparently enough to distract him.
     "Hey I'm SORRY!" Eugene shrieked back as he backed up and raised
his hands defensively.  "I told you not to come after me!  And you'd
better not do it again," he warned.
     "Like h-" Charlie started, but Tom put a hand - gloved in leather -
on his shoulder and grabbed.  Painfully.
     "Young'un's right," he said, "Miss Jane and Miss Marie'd fall all
over you if you tracked that in their house.  You just stay here, Miss
Charlene, Harold's gettin' the hose."  And he began wiping off the
thickest clumps with his hands.
     Charlie stood there gasping and with a deep desire to hit someone,
but there wasn't anyone to hit that wouldn't hit him back worse.
     *Damnit, it's just so UNFAIR!* he thought, and with that he started
to sob.

     Tucker thought, *Well, I feel like-  Oh god don't let me laugh!* he
begged as he bit his lip.  "Charlene," he said out loud when he'd gotten
his control back, "I'm sorry."
     "What?" she yelled at him.
     *Guess the water noise is making it hard to hear.  She got a lot in
her hair, too...*  "I'M SORRY!" he yelled, trying to sound loud and not
angry.
     "Just SHUT up!" she shrieked back, but when she didn't chase after
him again, he was satisfied he'd made as much apology as he could at the
moment.

     Charlie was as cleaned up as he was going to get without a change
of clothes and a bath, and the nearest source of either was past Jane.
     "An' what did you say your name was, miss?" Tom asked Eugene.
     *Oh SHIT!  I forgot-*
     Before he could come up with anything at all, even one of the bad
names, Eugene smiled and said, "Valerie, hey," and stuck out his hand
for a handshake.
     Tom stuck his out as well, and they all realized just in time that
Tom still had his gloves - still covered in manure - on his hands.
     "Aheh," Eugene chuckled, and pointed a finger at Tom.  "Nice try."
     Charlie almost laughed too.

     Tucker sighed as he felt the crushing weight of fear settle back on
him as they approached the house.  He considered asking Charlene if they
could stay out until she dried, but he knew she was still pissed at him,
and Jane had ordered them to be back before lunch.  *And there's no way
Jane'd believe we got too busy looking at the scenery and talking to
remember what time it was,* he realized, glancing at Charlene, who was
visibly still enraged.  *Oh, man,* he sighed mentally.  *I hate this
place.  Could jail be worse?*
     Of course, it could; the closest thing he had to a cellmate here
was Charlene, and it was about as likely she'd rape him as it was that
he'd suddenly sprout wings so he could fly home.
     Still, that didn't make things any easier.

     "Charlene?" Eugene - now 'Valerie' - said as they walked next to
the pool.  "I'm really sorry about what happened."
     "Fuck you!" Charlie snapped back, and Valerie didn't say anything
else, which suited him just fine.
     Valerie opened the door for them both, and managed to get inside
and shut the doors before Jane became aware of how wet Charlie was.
"What happened?" she demanded in a terrifying voice.
     Before Charlie's mouth could unfreeze, much less come up with
anything to say, Valerie sighed, "I pushed Charlene into a manure pile
at the stables."
     "You did WHAT?" Jane almost shrieked.
     "I pushed Charlene into a manure pile at the stables," he repeated.
"The groundskeepers washed her off so she wouldn't track it inside the
house."
     "And just why did you do this?" Jane asked, very calmly.
     Eugene brought his shoulders back and his head up, and spoke, "No
excuse ma'am."
     "Is this what happened?" Jane asked Charlie as she turned to face
him, and he froze again.
     Before he could say anything, he glanced at Eugene, who caught his
eye and shrugged hopelessly.  "Uh, well, sort of-" Charlie stammered.
     And Jane turned back to Eugene.


***


Distribution:
No part of this work may be distributed as an original work by another
person or group.
Permission is given to redistribute this by electronic means, as long as
the entirety of the work (from the BEGIN PGP SIGNED MESSAGE header to
the END PGP SIGNATURE footer) is distributed, and credit is given to the
original author, me.  And no fee may be charged.
Archiving is permitted provided no fee is charged for access.

All rights reserved.


+ @>--,--'-----   Ellen Hayes   o===[--------      __      vicki .sig  +
                  -=[1990]=-                       \/      virus 12.2
+      http://www.barkingduck.net/ehayes     PGP key: EFC9 5D55 (1996) +



-----BEGIN PGP SIGNATURE-----
Version: 2.6.2

iQCVAwUBQG7xQHYDebnvyV1VAQGsQgP9HhsOvpZCaSEIMZzsahFIHOGQyY+ewSOa
eVRPErGFSUl68r4/+RWdwDudrCmR/53xyhUBwwrhVDwYmZyqemZL55phjbdm+3ol
VCf0zUsc19GapckdPpEPMxPGnv0biR8H89D+aprcC2pZUyJRTPDrNyFOb9Z5UgbT
twO4qJrdpYU=
=sKJZ
-----END PGP SIGNATURE-----