Synopsis:

Another BigCloset TopShelf story.

Joanie meets some magazine models and learns of the pros and cons of modeling, then bares her self to the cameras and an interviewer. More nonsense with the kittens, Pinkly and some of Joanie newest friends. She has an amusing time with a grumpy security officer and she teaches a class she's a student in. Boy these are hard to write when you're tired.

Andy Warhol said,"In the future, everyone will be famous for 15 minutes." What if your 15 minutes came late in life, and fame decided to never let you go? Could you survive the circus your life would become?

Story:

Timeout 3-Continuous play: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction

This is fan fiction for the Whateley Academy series. It may or may not match the timeline, characters, and continuity, but since it's fan fiction, who cares? To see the canon Whateley Stories, check out either Sapphire's Place,

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

Another chapter in part three of my TG/sci-fi/superhero/magic and the kitchen sink epic. I’m much better now than when I started this, honest, though comma useage still confuses me; ask Itinerant. Your constructive criticism and advice always helps. This is an exercise in the joys of creativity and in appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe. Any violations of copyright, trade mark or use of real people or incidents are purely for purposes of humor or parody and done solely for the free enjoyment of the reading public. All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005-2006. Joanie says she’s sure glad Playboy doesn’t use staples anymore; those things must hurt.

Adult content advisory: this chapter deals with sexual topics and may not be suitable for younger readers but if you’ve read my stuff you know it’s not graphic and is often silly but you were warned.

Timeout 3

By John from Wauwatosa
Text remodeling by Itinerant
Thanks to Janet Nolan for additional proofing

Chapter 7- I’m Ready for My Close-up, Mr. Hefner, The New New Avengers, The Kids from Wisconsin, Home Improvement, The Substitute

Whateley Academy Dunwich NH, April 10-16, 2007

Mr. Hefner was charming and, well, normal once you got past the carefully crafted public image. His eye candy companions were not your stereotypical silicone bimbos. We spent several hours walking around campus. I showed them the sights as Mr. Hefner and the Playmates described the interview and photo layout process to me. They adored my kitties. I never admitted to what they were, but he knew they were something rare and special. I agreed that, when the photographer arrived, George and Gracie would participate. I claimed they were a cross between a lion and lynx the genetics lab experimented with. The gals weren’t fooled for a moment. The 20-something blonde took to modeling to pay off her mounting medical school debt. She was in training as a neurologist. The surprisingly tall, jet-haired, Amerasian girl was completing her BA in business administration and wanted the money to buy a retail franchise.

“If possible, I’d like to see photos of you in your dorm room, both clothed and naked. It will make you all the more appealing to our readers,” Mr. Hefner said.

“It’s just a room, a converted linen closet at that. I admit George and Gracie are cute, and most cats like the warmth of a lamp so the photofloods won’t bother them. The, um, naked part is obvious, but why my room?” I asked then chuckled; okay, giggled.

“That’s it, Joanie, that's what we need to show our readers. It will show how normal a young woman you’ve become and how unspoiled by the fame. Rather than living in some mansion surrounded by armed guards where you party every night and abuse your servants, you’re here. Here studying with your fellow classmates, teaching, sharing your gift of music while struggling to make sense of your new life. It’s like one of those Horatio Alger boys stories of the late 1800’s, except you’re a girl rising to greatness by the honest sweat of her angelic brow.”

~~And the jiggling firmness of her breasts. Let’s be honest, Mister. ~~

“If you’re trying to get in my panties, Mr. Hefner, that’s a damn good approach. It won’t work, but keep it up; I’m getting all tingly,” I said, and then I spoiled the effect by giggling.

He laughed, got up, gave me hug and well practiced kiss, then excused himself. He and Ms. Carson had a private dinner planned for that evening — destination, “none of your business, Joanie.”

~~Hum?~~

~~Now that I’ve seen her up close, I owe the blonde an apology. Her breasts are natural. The pushup bra fooled me. Still, mine are nicer even without any augmentation… I’m doing it again!

~~Why am I so competitive about my looks? Could it be because I’m in the fertile part of my cycle? That might explain my compulsion to compete with other women. I certainly felt the need to prove to Tessa that I was the dominant female, even if just for fun. That must be the reason. I’m at the peak of my fertility. I’m only four days away from my period. No wonder I’m…. Good Lord, I’m competing for the available males! For a member of a so called ‘civilized’ species, I’m sure letting my hormones do the talking.

~~That also explains my intense arousal, and reaction, to Eric… Thank Ghod Pinky was there. We might have done it if she hadn’t interrupted our sub-conscious foreplay. I’d like to think I have control, but I’m not so confident now. I ‘burn’ for Eric; that’s the best description I can give. It’s a phrase I read some time ago. I can’t remember were, but it fits. At least the readers of Playboy will get their money's worth. I looked hot in the self-portraits I shot during the over-night time trip to the Ice Age, the trip that ended with my rescue of the smilodons. The buildup of my ‘side effect’ showed clearly in them, I was ’glowing’ with desire. I’ve got that look now, though it’s more manageable. ~~

* * * *

The Nordic babe, Candice, “please, don’t call me Candy, it makes me sound stupid”, and the Amerasian, May Lee, “I was born on May first and Dad loved Christopher Lee horror films”, told me what to expect and what not to tolerate from the photographer.

“Male or female, it doesn’t matter. They should never touch you without your express permission and never on or around your genitals. This publication is more a throwback to pinup artistry than sexually explicit erotica. You will be on display in every sense of the word, but if you’re not comfortable doing it, don’t. Remember, Joanie, they came to you. That gives you considerable leverage with your photographer, so use it. Oh, and Joanie, your cats are not what you claim they are. What are they? I almost went into veterinary science and I’ve never seen ones like those,” said the articulate blonde bombshell.

“Those are no lynxons or lionyx or whatever you said, fess up girl,” May demanded politely.

“I can’t say how we got them, but they are the first pair of living smilodons the Earth has seen in nearly ten thousand years.”

“When Mr. Hefner said Whateley was something special he wasn’t joking!” exclaimed Candice.

May spoke next, “If you do continue in the modeling business, be careful, Joanie. I’ve heard horror stories from girls who went into nude modeling to earn cash for college, or to pay for a new car, or wardrobe, and got conned into doing degrading things. The sleazes are clever and say things like 'I’d like to help but you don’t have what we need. If only you had that look of arousal on you. Flushed, sweaty skin, wet, pouty lips and um, more explicit signs of arousal are what sell. I can help you if you’ll let me.'

"A first it’s a few drinks to relax you, and some oil to make your skin glow on camera. Maybe some judiciously applied makeup, spirit gum, or double-faced tape to enhance that wanton look. You feel a little guilty, but the money is good so you do it again. Pretty soon you’re half stoned on drugs, and doing DP’s, and other sex acts you’d never dream of if you were sober. It happens, not all the time, maybe not even most of the time, but even rarely is too often. There are many legitimate photographers and adult film makers, and then there are those who are not. We’ve been fortunate,” said May Lee, a sad expression on her face as she gestured at herself, and Candice.

“This happened to a friend, the bad experience?” She nodded. I could see she was crying.

“Did they force her to have sex or abuse her? How is she?” I had an uneasy feeling about this.

“My... the girl had major debt. She’d lost her student grant on a technicality and had to return it. I don’t know why they wouldn’t give her more time. They demanded she pay it back immediately,” said May.

~~There’s something odd here. Banks would rather spread out the payments than take you to court. What could they gain by suing a student: it’s their future income that’s valuable, and they have no assets to seize? I’d think they’d treat this like a student loan. ~~

“Her family offered to help, but she was too proud to take a handout. The creepy filmmakers she met kept telling her, ‘only one more job and you’ll have enough to be debt free, and a little set aside.’ But there were always, ‘unexpected delays’, ‘the video didn’t sell as expected and the creditors got their money first’, and worst ‘we thought you understood the surgeries were at your expense.’ It was a vicious spiral she couldn’t escape from.” May paused, and then continued. She looked distraught.

“I suspected they were slipping her drugs and brainwashing her. She admitted on the phone to having drinks on the sets and that her memory was giving her problems. This from a girl with a 3.9 average through all her school years. I saw her six months after it started and didn’t recognize her, what with all the tattoos, piercings, and the breast job. I convinced her to see a lawyer about her pay, and they skipped town on her.” May was near tears.

“Who is she, May, a close school friend, or a cousin?” I asked, hoping my worst suspicion wasn’t true.

“My younger sister, Anna. She was engaged to be married and he broke it off when he found out. She wanted a traditional Asian man, they want virgins.”

May was struggling to stay in control. I was right. It was the worst case possible.

“When he dumped her, she tried to commit suicide, but we got her to the hospital in time. Mr. Hefner’s people are paying for her drug rehab and counseling. He has his legal staff looking at her student grant troubles, but she has physical problems too. They ‘persuaded’ her to get breast implants, big ones, and tattoos. It will cost thousands to remove the tattoos, and to remove her unattractive breast implants. It will cost thousands -- maybe as much as ten thousand -- to repair the damage and restore my sweet Anna’s original appearance. She’ll likely have some scarring, and she was so pretty, prettier than me.” The young woman poured out her pain. Candice and I did what we could to comfort her.

~~Her sister was the prettier one, and May’s a Playboy centerfold? I feel sick. ~~

“Mr. Hefner must know her story if he’s helping her, so why tell me?” I asked. I was near tears and getting angry.

“That’s why he asked May to come. He wanted you to know of the bad side of his business as well as the good. We’re also mutants, like you, Joanie. No major powers. We’re both low level exemplars, and that’s about it. He felt you’d be more comfortable hearing all this from someone with a shared background. We’ll be in the all mutant issue with you. Mr. Hefner said it was time for the truth about mutants. I attended the mutant school near Chicago. May attended one on the west coast. Neither is the equal of Whateley, but not every mutant can afford it, or needs it,” Candice explained.

The reasons for their being here were certainly logical and explained their good looks. I suspected there was another reason why they’d been picked.

~~Ms. Carson, you devious woman. Ghod I love you. Hefner knew and told you, and you’re getting me involved on the sly. I do owe you and this Anna needs help. Time to break out the cat suit and boots, and buy a Pierre Cardin suit, bowler hat, and a brolly for Senator Joe. Now, where can we get some kewl theme music? Oh no! I’ve caught the kewl bug from Mel. ~~ Then I giggled quietly.

“What’s so funny, Joanie?”

“May, it’s, um… I have certain connections. Can you get me everything your sister knows about the people who exploited her? Also photos, locations of the facilities they used, any thing might be the key. I’d like to talk to her myself if it’s possible. This weekend after the photo shoot and interviews are over would be ideal. I know some people good at finding the truth. As to her medical problems, I have some friends who might help with several unconventional restorative therapies, and I can help with the financial issues,” I said.

I gave her a warm conspiratorial smile. She looked confused, but interested in what I was saying.

~~If Gin can turn a man into a little girl, the mages, and thaumatologists at Whateley should be able to help restore her looks and physical virginity. ~~

“No, I hear you’re already paying for three students to attend here and Mr. Hefner said how expensive it is,” May said.

“Don’t worry, I have tons of money. I also have connections with a charitable organization, Meridian. They have billions. If you won’t take my money, perhaps you’ll accept theirs. At least let the medical staff here examine her and see if they can restore her in mind and body. Please let me help?”

Candice had been staring at me while I spoke my piece, then her face lit up like she’d had the most wonderful surprise, or the Mother of All Orgasms. Sorry about that d/j/w.

“It was you! You’re the mysterious mutant who broke the Boston child pornography and rape case! Mr. Hefner said there was more to you than what was in the press, and you saved those two girls lives. There was... let me remember… Melissa, the daughter of Iowa’s Governor, and that new mutant girl -- the authorities won’t release her name -- the one who jumped off the ferry boat: I‘m honored to meet you, Joanie,” said Candice with respect, and was it awe?

“Don’t forget the obstruction of justice and ongoing criminal conspiracy charges. I’m especially fond of those,” I said, and laughed. I had to defuse the situation and soon.

“Do you want to meet her, the girl from the ferry? She’s here at Whateley. When you meet her, you’ll see why either of you would have done the same. She’s a precious child.”

Candice gave me a hug. She was a mistress of the art, wow! May stared at me for a moment and then she wrapped her arms around me and cried. Two gorgeous ‘babes’ fawning over me. The old me is having fits as ‘he’s’ not here to enjoy it. She calmed after several minutes, kissed me sweetly, and told me she’d consider my offer. May said she would let me know after the interviews and shoots were over. In the back of my mind I considered ways to get Anna justice.

* * * *

I introduced them to my friends during dinner in the Crystal Hall. This was a great way to get my mind off May’s horror story, and we were hungry. Pinky and Suzy charmed the panties of them, metaphorically speaking -- damn. When Tina and Tom showed up, Tom looked happy, and terrified. It was too much of a good thing for him, I guess. He went up in my estimation by showing proper attention to all present, not just the sexy models. He behaved respectfully, not like a junior Lothario on the make, and I was impressed. I wonder if I’d scared him earlier. Whatever it was, Suzy noticed, too. She whispered something to Tina, and then to Tom as they left. I think she gave his cheek a peck. Tina snickered, but Tom blushed.

~~Suzy seemed awfully pleased with her self afterward. If her mutation has triggered a surge in her puberty, oh girl! Who’s the aggressor now, I wonder? I’d better ask Suzy if she needs to go on birth control.!!

Teens and hormones, who can figure them? I can’t figure myself out half the time, and I’m one of them.

Meanwhile I had my own upcoming trial-by-fire, the photo shoots.

* * * *
April 11-14, 2007

We started the next day with an early morning shoot in my linen closet. This would get the bulk of the critical nude photographs over and done with first, and make me more comfortable for the casual and action shots. It turns out the poster that convinced them to contact me was the one of me running, my face in that expression of pleasure personified, ‘Runners High.’ They hoped to capture something like it, but with higher resolution and less clothing. I was considering it. My kittens got in a number of the shots. They did like the warmth of the flood lamps. I had to discourage their pouncing on the power cords. I think George and Gracie thought they were snakes, or toys. The entire ‘set’ consisted of a woman makeup artist/photographer's assistant, the photographer, the ‘cats’, and me, which was good, given the tight confines of my room.

I saw some of the digital test shots — the photographer shot in both digital and film — and the photos with the smilodons were so cute -- sex kitten cute. A couple of digital video/sound cameras captured everything we did. They intended to edit it down into a DVD of the making of my Centerfold and the interview. They sell quite briskly, I understand. The assistant next showed me some of the glamour/pinup style shots. I was stunning. I knew I looked good, but with these I’d joined the major leagues. I was as good as, or better looking than, the competition. I was speechless.

~~This is worse than when I woke up in the hospital. I’m a freakin’ babe! I look so hot, ‘I’ want me. ~~

“I look like that?”

The assistant nodded, as the photographer repositioned some equipment.

“That’s the real you hon, no illusion. Most girls I’ve worked with have some flaw that needs concealing, some weakness in their beauty that needs a boost. You have none of those. I never seen anyone with such flawless skin, and your hair color is remarkable. See how it seems to glow in these shots. You’re about to set the standard for what is considered beautiful in a woman. A Barbie Doll would be envious of your face and figure. I’ve seen a handful of mutants in my job -- Candice and May Lee are near perfect, as are many exemplars, I understand -- but you’re in your own league,” the assistant said.

“So Candice doesn’t dye her hair, and May Lee doesn’t wear colored contacts?” I said nervously.

“Candice does tint hers to bring out the blonde character of her hair. Her mutation enhanced her overall beauty, and toned her physique, but her light blond hair became darker than she likes -- more a dirty honey blond. May Lee wears tinted contacts, but it’s only to restore her pre-mutation eye color, not that the jet black irises she has now aren’t sexy. Her Dad's parents are from Japan and her Mom’s a former model from Sweden. May used to be a slightly shorter, less curvaceous, blue-eyed Amersian brunette. The mutation gave her the height and build of her Mom and her Dad’s jet black eyes and hair. Other than that, neither girl changed much.

I don’t need to do a lot to make them look great, but with you I did way less. Joanie, you’re the most naturally attractive woman I’ve ever seen, and I’ve worked with hundreds of top models. Don’t let the fact that I’m 23 fool you; I’ve been doing this job since I was a kid,” she added.

“Stop it, I feel like you’re worshiping me. I’m pretty but I’m no paragon of perfection, or whatever it is you’re saying. I’ll admit I’m cute, sexy maybe, but I was I guy less than a year ago; how can I be this benchmark of femininity? Give me a break.”

I tried to look upset, honest I did, but it came out as this wickedly erotic pout; I’ve seen the photos. I have got to be more careful with my facial gestures.

“Hold that pose, that’s dynamite, Joanie,” said the photographer. “My assistant’s right, Joanie, you may have been a man but you move, and sound, like what you are, a woman. There is nothing in how you move or act that reminds me of a man, and your body screams woman in it’s every detail.”

I tried to silence him, but he kept talking. I was half expecting them to erect an altar to me, and burn incense. Hey, I don’t mind people stroking my ego but this ‘cult’ was a threat to my sanity.

“When I got this assignment, I told my wife, and she immediately insisted on Wendy as my assistant. Wendy’s our oldest daughter.” He smiled, Wendy laughed and I giggled.

“Tell your mom I’m not dangerous, Wendy. Your dad’s good looking, but I’m no predatory female,” I said, and giggled again.

“No, I’m sure you’re a respectable girl, and I know the ethical lines in my business, but the wife felt much happier with Wendy here.”

“Daddy, stop lying. Joanie, Mom wanted me here because I usually work with him, like she did before us kids came on the scene. She still works with Dad on occasion, but someone had to take care of my younger brother and sister. They’re in middle school, and high school.”

We got along great after that. I stopped whining about how I’m not that pretty, and they stopped pretending I was Aphrodite’s twin sister. I got some great makeup tips and found I could look like I was anywhere from 15 to 21. Prepping for the photos wasn’t much more work than I did in getting ready for the prom, though it held its own surprises. I knew they’d be meticulous, but some things were a shock. I understood the careful brushing and combing of my hair, it’s, well, I’ve never brushed ‘that’ hair before. They wanted things perfect, and took no prisoners. I felt silly afterwards, and the makeup she applied to reduce the shine off parts of my body tickled delightfully as she brushed it on. They didn’t brush anything down ‘there’, though they did apply powder to the tops of my breasts a few times. I liked that -- ooh! Everything was done with the utmost professionalism. They never did anything without explaining its purpose and asking my permission to continue with it.

After spending all morning in my room, they took pictures in the shower room and of me running in that skimpy outfit I wore to bait Peeper’s contestants. With my long hair, I’m sure they got some artistic shots. I certainly had fun doing it. After a break to eat and rest, they followed me around campus the remainder of the day and the next two days as well. We got some strange looks as I walked around campus in a variety of outfits for the “casual” photos. I wore everything from my signature leathers to my school uniform and my ‘Indiana Joanie’ costume. They shot me diving into, and climbing out, of one of Whateley’s pools wearing that fluorescent pink thong bikini, and dancing in my prom dress at one of Mr. Lodgeman’s ballroom dance classes.

We attracted a fair gallery of onlookers, but Security and their class schedules kept them at bay. Sam Everheart made a show of patrolling wearing her twin Glocks -- a thing she rarely did. I half expected her to be marching about with her monster sniper rifle slung over her shoulder. Lex was more subtle in her “no, I am not interested in posing” look, but the photographer got the message in both cases. I got a glorious smile of encouragement from a passing student, Nikki Reilly. She’s a part-time model at Whateley. In a campus full of beautiful young women, her elfin looks stand out. For some reason, I felt like I should rush over and protect her. I thought that odd, until I remembered hearing she projects a powerful glamour.

I knew that model photographers shot lots of photos, I’ve seen the Austin Power’s films -- you’re permitted to laugh now, dear d/j/w reader -- but it was amazing. They followed me everywhere, from the King Annex where I sang for them, to the Crystal Hall with its remarkable array of foods and my table of friends. They spent a whole day just following me around as I carried on in my normal routine, interrupting only to touch up my hair, or makeup. They shot me running with Pinky. Ms. Carson and I will look at the photos and video carefully. We need to be sure none of the students or adults are identifiable. They shot me at breakfast with my ‘gang’, teaching vocal music, teaching history, attending class, and on evening patrol with Lex. She made certain they didn’t take any photos she thought inappropriate, so they mostly shot me.

~~Hey, for two million dollars, they can shoot me naked … Gees, I’m such an airhead today, like whatever. ‘I’m a blonde, yeah yeah yeah.’ Eat your heart out Julie Brown. ~~

* * * *

The informal interview I did with Mr. Hefner that first evening was a warm-up for the big one set for the last day of the shoot, Saturday the 14th -- my fourth full day with them. We set up in a soundproof practice room in the King Annex. This provided privacy and was large enough accommodate the accompanying photo/video shoot. I was glad we would be finished soon, as I was due for my period, and it can be uncomfortable for me. I answered most of the questions. I even confirmed my actual day and year of birth, but not the hospital. I was careful to give them nothing regarding my past and origins that a data miner could use to trace my family. We discussed my mutation and my recovery, and I described what I liked most and least about being a young woman.

“It’s true, then, that you’re a 49 year old former man?” said the writer.

“I’m 49 going on 17, or so it seems. But I’m grateful for this second chance at life. I miss being a man, but the benefits of my new life outweigh the drawbacks, and the powers are fun too.”

“Your powers, can you describe them, how you learned of them, and when you realized you were a mutant?”

“Three questions in one, you don’t waste words, do you? I can’t give you a detailed description of all of them. It‘s rather technical and dull. I will talk about the powers that are public.”

You have more powers than are reported?”

“I have the power to turn grown men into babbling idiots.”

I gave the writer my most sultry look. His face went blank for a moment. His pants soon were tighter fitting, painfully tighter.

“How did you like my demonstration?” I joked, then I giggled.

“That was devastating. Please, don’t tell my wife.”

“I knew something was odd soon after my mutation triggered. When I woke up in the hospital four days later looking like a teenage boy’s wet dream, there was no denying it. I’m a warper class mutant and it gives me some unusual abilities. I didn’t know about my time stop when I saw Melissa run into traffic. It was pure instinct and terror that drove me to make that mad dash into the road. I realized something strange and wondrous was happening, but I was too concerned for the girl’s safety to stop and analyze it. Although it meant the end of any hopes I had to remain anonymous, I’m glad I did it. I’ve received a great gift through my mutation, and saving this wonderful young woman was, and is, the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

I paused, and wiped my tears.

“Sorry, I’m such a girl these days.”

“I see you’re very attached to Ms. Johnson, and her family. Are the rumors true about her brother, Eric, and you?”

“And what are those rumors?” I smiled.

“He’s your boyfriend?” the writer asked.

“Right for the jugular, eh? I’m fond of him and the whole Williams-Johnson clan. They treat me as if I’m a long lost child. How can I not love them? I wouldn’t be as comfortable with myself if it wasn’t for their unquestioning love. Mel, that’s Melissa, is my sister in every sense of the word. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for her. The thought of her lying dead or crippled in the road haunts me and drives me to excel in my new life.

"I hate having to say this, but should anyone get the bright idea of holding my friends for ransom or threatening them with harm to force me to do something -- don’t. I may not look tough, but don’t let that deceive you. I am fierce when it comes to protecting my friends or anyone I see being taken advantage of. Never provoke me. You won’t like what happens. I’m sorry to come off all bitchy, but I value my friends and family, and will do anything to protect them. I want those who might harm them to know I will not stop pursuing them until justice is served. This potential for harm to my friends and family is the only serious downside to my mutation. I can’t visit my birth family often or openly because of the risk, and it hurts. I so wish I could share my new life with them, but I can’t.

"My gratitude to those who helped me during my mutation and those first awkward days and weeks after is why I’m so eager to help other new mutants. My friends in Madison, the doctors and staff at the hospital, and the members of MSG, the Madison Supers Group, the Williams-Johnson clan, and the amazing people at the school I’m at, all made me what I am, and I’m grateful. My teaching and other efforts are a way of repaying their kindness. It was my trust in their abilities that made it possible to jump in after the poor girl at the Merrimac ferry. I knew I could count on their help as much as I knew I had to try and save her. She’s doing very well, as is another friend I’ve made since all this mutant craziness happened.”

~~Time to change the subject; I’m getting aroused thinking of Eric. ~~

“Want to see a demonstration of my time stop?” I asked.

I did the soda can trick, but with an open can. It looked like one of those high-speed photographs the late Dr. Edgerton of MIT was famous for. You’ve seen them, the splashing drops of milk, and a rifle bullet passing through an apple. As an added bonus, I carefully collapsed the field surrounding it and scooped the soda out of the air using a cup. Then I drank it after grabbing the can.

“This is great soda, I’ll not waste it. It also stains the wood floor. Want some?”

~~A certain Atlanta based beverage company will pee in their pants when they see their red cola can in the magazine. I wonder if I can persuade them to give Whateley a discount? ~~

I was vague about my powers, not giving out much more than was public knowledge. My safety was at stake here, so the regen, time travel, and possible mental talents remained secret. I gave them enough to satisfy their curiosity, but no more.

“Your remarkable appearance... can you say what the cause is?”

“I’m an exemplar. My body is a near perfect representation of what my genetics and body image template say I should be as a woman. I’m by no means super human, but it does give me resistance to fatigue and illness greater than most normal people. My doctors say I have the mind and body of a 15 to 18 year old, depending on what they’re measuring. My brain structure and hormone levels are of a healthy 17 year old girl.”

~~That last sentence is an understatement; it’s more like a healthy 17 year old nymphomaniac. ~~

"My skeletal development is more like a 15 or 16 year-old. If it wasn’t for these” — I hefted my generous breasts; it felt wonderful — “I could pass for 15 easy. I am cursed with a skinny-girls butt and tiny waist, oh well,” I said and giggled.

“You look perfectly proportioned to me, Joanie,” the interviewer said.

“Thanks. Overall, the doctors say I’m a 17 year old girl and will remain so indefinitely,” ~Oops! ~

“Indefinitely? How long will you live?” the writer asked.

“Let me put that better. I don’t age the same as the average person.”

I didn’t lie. I simply don’t age.

“You’ll look as you do for a long time then?”

“Remarkable, isn’t it?”

“You said your brain and hormones are that of a 17 year old girl. That implies you’re sexually active.”

“I’m a virgin in that I’ve never had intercourse, that is, sex with a man. It’s not that I haven’t enjoyed the blessings of this body. I’m attracted to both men and women, but I’m cautious in that area. My body is fertile, and I’m surprisingly old-fashioned. As corny as it sounds, I think I’ll wait for Mr. Right. That may change, but I doubt it.”

“Is Eric Johnson Mr. Right? You do spend a lot of time with his family, and him.”

“How could I not? I saved their daughter and in a way they’ve saved me. They’re decent, honest folks and I’m proud to call them my friends. It’s through my experience with them I decided to enter teaching. My hospital and MSG friends taught me the value of helping others, but I wasn’t sure how. Mel’s energy and enthusiasm started me down this path; the success of my accidental singing career moved me along further. The reaction of Mel’s family and friends last November cinched my decision. The intelligence and eagerness to learn, combined with the girls’ love of life made choosing teaching a snap,” I said.

“Last November, that was the girls’ sleepover at the Iowa Governor’s Mansion?”

“Yeah, it was a blast. You should attend one. Oh, right, you’re a guy. Sorry, sometimes I’m so blond,” I giggled.

~~Blond like a shark. Let them think you’re an airhead. ~~

“Your ‘accidental singing career’, as you put it, has done phenomenally well. You do know you’re currently the best selling recording artist on the charts. Getting back on the subject, what’s your relationship to Eric Johnson?”

“As to Mr. Johnson, Eric’s a fine young man I’m privileged to call a dear friend. I have to remind myself he’s fourteen. He acts so mature most of the time. When he’s eighteen, ask me again. I can say this much, when I do get around to dating men, if he’s still available, he’s on the list. “

None of this was a lie, Eric was on the list. He was the list.

* * * *

April 15, 2007

I spent much of Sunday morning catching up on my laundry and cleaning after the hectic week. Whateley, being Whateley, accommodated the diverse religious needs of its students. Tom, Tina, and Suzy, were able to attend a church service on campus. Happily, it was not conducted by the Rev. Englund. He makes Ms. Hartford look sweet and sympathetic. He’s the kind of man that gives ultra conservative, right-wing religious fanaticism a bad name -- at least that’s my opinion of him. Charlie Lodgeman, the nicest man on campus with the possible exceptions of Chief Delarose, Stan and Morrie, hates the man with a passion. He’s polite and quiet about it, but I’ve learned the Right Righteous Pain in the Posterior was partially responsible for Sherry’s death, and Lodgeman can’t forget, or forgive. So far I’ve avoided Englund’s attention. I suspect he thinks I’m a flake, which is fine with me. I’ve enough complication in my life without a religious nut case on my case. If he should learn of my flirtation with lesbianism, my life here could get complicated. That one of the students, Nikki Reilly, looks like Sherry must complicate things for Charlie.

While I cleaned and washed and generally acted the grumbling bitch — my “friend” was back with extreme prejudice -- Pinky entertained and began training George and Gracie. I “love” my periods, they make me feel so feminine. There are few things more graceful and womanly that shoving a tampon up your… I’m being sarcastic here, dear d/j/w. I do admit it’s a small price to pay for possible motherhood, but it is a nuisance.

I got some advice from one of our Security officers who works with police dogs, and Pinky was helping me implement it. We would start simple, a solid sit/stay command, and build on that foundation. We intended to use a minimum of negative correction, like that would work when they were 450 pounds and had teeth like commando knives, railway spikes, or bayonets -- take your choice of analogy. Pinky was patient and started the many repetitions of the commands and intermittent food rewards given for displaying the desired behavior -- classic Pavlov/Skinner style conditioning.

I’m getting better, dear d/j/w; I didn’t say, “Pavlov, ring a bell?” at least not right away. Cats are trainable if you start early enough. They’ve long been used in magic and entertainment acts. The big cats are a circus staple. Pinky had the added advantage of being able to empathically sense the smilodon’s emotional state and to project back an appropriate emotion. The two of us would train them in the basics and experts would assist us as needed. They were responding well to a harness and leash. We always made it pleasant. They get food treats, playtime, a brushing, and walks in the edge of the woods, anything the cats enjoy. They do eye the squirrels suspiciously, and, given what good climbers George and Gracie are proving to be, the leashes are necessary. The sit/stay should solve that problem. Heel comes next and I think it will go easily as they will walk on the leash for a hundred yards at a time before protesting.

* * * *

Between my loads of laundry, I reviewed the information Tessa sent me about the farm I wanted to buy. The well was fairly recent and deep with good water quality. The tested rate of flow was sufficient for two homes. The septic system was older but in good order and would do for the farmhouse, though I’d probably go for one of those newer mound systems for the barn conversion. Whateley did extend its sewers to Dr. Bellows so an extension to the farm might be possible. I’ll have to see what the zoning laws permit. The telephone and electric lines were modern, though the farmhouse wiring was from the late forties and needed upgrading. The machinery shed was only 20 years old with a concrete floor and would make a great garage or possibly a practice hall for my music. It needed insulation and heat, but that was easy. When the septic was dug I could see about adding a ground to air heat pump system. They’re supposed to be environmentally friendly.

My mind was busy trying out various ideas and possibilities for the place. I shocked my self with a couple of them.

~~That 15 acres of woods could be a great place for a tree house for our children, and they could have ponies, and that old concrete silo would make a great playhouse and lookout tower, or astronomical observatory… I’m not even engaged and I’m thing of my, that’s our, children. Eric, hurry up, I need you beside me. I’m achy, bloated, have a tampon in me, a pantie liner in place, and I’m thinking of children and a husband. Mom, if you could see me now, are you laughing at me or smiling? Ghod, I miss you! I wish you could have met him. ~ ~

I* * * *

In the afternoon I practiced with Pinky and the smilodons. They were fast learners. The sit/stay was shaky, but they grasped the general concept. With luck they’d have it down pat in a matter of days rather that of weeks.

“How did you get so far with them in a few hours? You’re a natural at this.” I gave her an older sister’s hug.

“I had a dog when I was little and I helped train him. He got sick, and died, two years ago last March.” Pinky said. I could see tears on her face.

“I’m sorry, but you have George and Gracie now. I don’t mind sharing. They like you.”

The cats were spending almost equal amounts of time with each of us as we talked. Possibly they’d decided Pinky was my sister, and thus their Aunt. Related female domestic cats and lions sometimes share in feeding and carrying for their young. Pinky had taken care of George and Gracie while I was busy being photographed and interviewed and had formed a strong bond with them. I was happy Pinky had another activity to take her mind off the horrors of the last year and to remind her of the joys of childhood.

“You mean it, Joanie? They’re mine, too?”

“Absolutely, I think they’ve adopted you as their Aunt. I bet they’ll love their Uncle, too. Speaking of that, have you ever had ‘the talk’, the talk about human sexuality, and reproduction? You are an attractive girl and the other Pinky is handsome and exotic. You’re going to turn boys and girls heads. I want you to be prepared,” I told her.

“I had a little in school. The last was female hygiene class when I was 12, but after I mutated, Mom didn’t want much to do with me, at least nothing that reminded her of my change. The doctors here were the first to explain how my male organs work and that there is a chance, a good one, I can impregnate myself if any of my semen gets in my vagina. I turns out I’m just as fertile a female when a hermaphrodite as I am as a normal girl. I’m also a highly potent male, which surprised them at first. They say it’s something to do with my hormones and receptor sites. My male parts and my female parts don’t interfere with each other when I’m both. They think I might even continue changing forms during a pregnancy, at least until the last few months. When my breasts get ready to produce milk, they think I’ll stay a girl, though I might still switch, but keep the breasts. They don’t know for certain. I’m kinda special they said,” Pinky said without any shyness.

“Pinky, you’re special, period. I could talk to your Aunt and get you on birth control, if you want. I can’t take the pill or any of the contraceptive drugs, my physiology is too robust being a regen, but it could be a good precaution for you. Take it slow and easy, please. You’re doing so much better now, I don’t want to see you get hurt by some boy or girl taking advantage of you.”

Pinky looked me in the eyes so intensely I thought she was looking into my soul. I saw tears start to form.

“I promise, Mom,” Was all that Pinky said, and then she hugged and held me tight. I’d never head such beautiful words in my life. We didn’t speak after that, we simply held each other and cried.

~~If her parents don’t want Pinky, could I get custody or possibly adopt her? I’m not a relative, but someone needs to care for her. ~~

We must have been quite a sight when we walked puffy eyed and still sniffling to Sunday dinner with my friends. The Kids from Wisconsin — I know it’s the name of a student singing group at the State Fair, but it fits — Tom, Tina, and Suzy were there, waiting at my favorite table. Pinky and I were getting our food when the Anderson twins, Tina and Chris, came in dressed to the nines, and then some. We checked out then sat at the table. it was crowded, but a good kind of crowded.

“You okay, Au … ah gees, I forgot my, um, ketchup. Be right back,” said Suzy with embarrassment and ashamed.

“It’s fine, dear. No one heard. You wanted to ask if I was okay. I’m fine. I was crying because I’m happy. Girls are allowed to do that, aren’t they?” I asked.

“Joanie, do Tina ‘A’ and Chris know about Suzy?” Tom was learning to keep the secret.

“Tina and Chris know. I had to tell them, Tom. They’re my backups for when I’m not here to help you kids, and Tina’s in Administration, so she knew from the paperwork.”

“Suzy, you need something, or have a question, or problem, call us, or stop by Administration,” said Tina.

“Or stop by fleet maintenance,” said Chris.

“You got the full-time position, Chris? Way to go girl!” I said in congratulation; then I gave her a hug.

“Tina was always bugging me to apply for a full-time position at Whateley. I still work Saturday mornings for the law office in Dunwich and a couple half-shift evenings a week. It’s a lot of hours, but I’m making good money. I plan to have a family someday with or without a partner, and I want to be ready for it. We’re dressed up because Tina’s taking me out to a late night supper club to celebrate. Don’t worry, we’re not drinking. We have a small bottle of champagne chilling at home when we get back. You’re welcome to come over after if you want, Joanie.”

* * * *

That got us talking for hours. They had to kick us out so they could close up for the night and the Anderson gals could leave for their supper club date. It was nearly nine PM before I was back to Poe and my furry friends were fed and cared for. They do like their new scratching post, odd how it looks exactly like a couch. Lex is very happy with her new living room set. I threw in a floor lamp in exchange for her old couch. George and Gracie love it.

~~That was a long week. I forgot something, but what was it? Our Friday night phone call! Damn, where’s my cell? ~~

“Terrace Hill, who may I say is calling?” I’d gotten a Security officer.

“Is Eric Johnson available? I normally call him on Friday nights, but I was busy. It’s Joanie. He’ll want to talk, honest.” I felt so bad.

“Joanie who, miss?” said the officer.

“Sorry, Joanie Brown, I’m a family friend. It’s possible you’ve heard of me, I sing professionally.”

“Yeah kid. I don’t know who you are, but impersonating famous people to harass the Governor’s family is sick. We have caller ID and we will prosecute if you don’t hang up now,” said the man.

~~In a most condescending tone too, ~~ I thought.

“You just do that. I dare you to give the caller ID number to the Governor. Tell him the caller insisted, Officer Dickhead.”

~~That should fix you, jerk. ~~

I was steaming. He was costing me time, time that could be better spent talking with my Eric.

~~Damn the man for wasting our time. Damn me for forgetting. The magazine people would have left early Friday evening if I’d asked, and damn me for falling for a fourteen year old.~~

“You’ve got it, Missy,” he practically spat into the phone.

He was so mad he put it on speakerphone instead of hold. This was going to be such fun. I could hardly keep from laughing. I could hear a distant, but clear conversation.

“Governor, there’s some silly girl on the phone asking to speak to your son. She ‘claims’ to be, Joanie, that singer, but come on.”

“How do you know she’s not? Never assume; it’s dangerous, and foolish to do so in politics,” said Governor Bob.

“I have her caller ID here, the name is blocked, but the area code, and number list as Dunwich, New Hampshire, I mean…” said the officer laughing.

“Officer Miller, did the other officers tell you about an incident that happened here last November?” Bob said in a lecturing tone.

“Oh, that’s the one were a security officer at the gate got sent back to the state police academy because he pulled his gun out, and tried to arrest …”

There was a period of total silence.

“You will be there tomorrow at eight AM sharp to repeat the entire rookie course or you are fired. You will apologize to our dear friend and then you will turn in your gun and badge to your night watch commander, and explain to him why I am requesting your retraining. Got it, rookie?”

I had never heard a word in anger from Bob before, that was impressive in more than one way.

~~Ghod he’s loves me. Uh, why are my legs apart and ... Bob’s done it to me again. Even the voices of the men in this family arouse me. ~~

The officer gave me an enthusiastic apology, which I accepted. Bob was terribly sweet on the phone, but said he was serious about the officer retaking the whole officer boot camp. I made him promise me the officer would be restored to his former rank and pay if he did well. Bob told me he intended to do that all along -- the softie.

“It will do him good to be retrained. Everyone needs a good refresher course once in awhile. I’ll let him know before he leaves. I’m not a vindictive man. You want my son, I’ll get him. And Joanie, can I have one of those magazines when they come out, but autographed on the cover? I’d like to frame it and put it in my official office where everyone can see it. I’d display the centerfold, but Babs might get jealous,” he said, then laughed.

* * * *

If you want to know what Eric and I said, dear d/j/w reader, tough luck, that’s for our ears only. I will say I told him I was sorry for having forgotten to call, and that he was sweet about it. It quickly got sickeningly cute and romantic. Shirley Temple would have died from a sugar overdose on hearing it. Ghod help me, I loved it. I fell asleep that night a tired, but happy woman.

* * * *

April 16, 2007

Taking classes as a student is fun, plain and simple. I’ve made a several friends among the teens, and my girl skills have improved with their help. I usually remember when my period is due and have the tools-of-the-trade at hand, amazing! My growing network of friends and acquaintances provides me with a level of insider information of unauthorized activities on campus that few are privy to. It’s my own informal Distant Early Warning system, or DEW line. Supplemented with information gleaned from Security and my friend Tina in Administration, I’m rarely caught off guard by developments at Whateley. Combining this information with tip-offs from MSG, Dr. Sara, Babs, and the Senator may protect me from future attacks, at least the planned variety. Oh, and now I know which singers are the ‘hot’ items these days. Not as vital to my survival, but if I can get autographed photos and memorabilia — through Mr. Karaoke -- that no-one else can get, I have the spoils to leverage my position in the student hierarchy. At a minimum it improves my safety. Who wants to lose the goose that lays the golden eggs?

Teaching has been both hard work and a hoot. At a small to medium sized school like Whateley — less than a thousand total staff and students — you get to know or at least recognize everyone else in time. Most of the student body and nearly all the staff knew I was staff and something of a celebrity. Many knew me as a student as well. As months passed, the teens I had classes with thought of me more as one of the kids than as staff. This made the first few times I taught classes I was in a treat. It was easier for them to act as if I was one of them. I certainly look the part of a high school girl. I encouraged it so I could get the full flavor of student life.

I was on my way to History 103, Introduction to Mutant History, a required course. It was warm for the 16th of April and the early spring flowers were showing in the woods, lawns, and gardens of Whateley. I had ample time to waste. I had no first period class on Mondays, so I took my time, scouting out new trees the smilodons might wish to place their mark upon. Elms and oaks with their corky bark were favorites and with care, no harm would come to forest or felines.

“Timeout to the Office of the History Department Chairperson, ASAP, acknowledge.”

I occasionally got non-security related messages via the encrypted voice and messaging phone I carried. Mr. Hefner’s visit was a recent example. This was nothing unusual, so I acknowledged and rushed to her office.

“Joanie, I need you to teach History 103 second period today as the regular instructor is ill,” the new Chairperson, Dr. Bakers stated.

“Hir’s time of the month?” I replied.

Our instructor was a true hermaphrodite, fertile both ways. And I thought my sexuality was confusing. Hir worked as well as anything else as a form of address, it was definitely better than herm, or they. I’m simply her, Ms. or miss. Occasionally, I’m 'hey you!'

“Kelly is having a hard time today and asked off. It’s a introductory level class, you’ll do fine.” Said the history Chairpers… said the Head, ah, said Dr. Bakers.

‘I’m a student in that specific class; won’t it confuse them?” I asked.

“Exactly. Have fun, girl.” The head, um, Bakers grinned at me. Sorry, but he only took over from Dr. Alden last week.

I didn't have time to change. Okay, I could have time traveled back twenty minutes, run to my dorm room, changed, run back, and returned to the present but that was a poor use of my gifts and exhausting. To be honest it would be something else more debilitating, but satisfying. However, I simply forgot I could do it. I was dressed like any of the other girls in class, clothes guaranteed to give boys or girls erections, and parents heart attacks. It was subtly slutty. Too outrageous was frowned on as we did get visitors. The color coded lights in the dorms and flags outdoors reminded us constantly. Today was a green flag day, so all bets were off, along with a lot of fabric. I do need to fit in, so I was baring lots of skin. It’s not like I’m a show-off. Well, maybe a little, but it’s for fun.

We chose our favorite seats. Many kids clowned around while waiting for the teacher. At the appointed time I got out of my seat, placed my backpack and laptop on the teacher’s desk, sat in hir’s chair, and put my feet up on the desk.

“Joanie, are you crazy? Dr. Kelly will have you in detention for that. You signed a binding pledge to be treated as a regular student, girl. I remember hir making a big deal out of it. Faculty or not, hir’ll have your ass. You know what a prig hir is,” said one of the girls.

“I don’t care. I hear we have a substitute today, and I‘ll bet you she’ll be eating out of my hand.”

I started eating a bag of corn chips, and opened a soda.

“Hir’ll suspend you from class, please.”

“Nah, I told you I’d be eating out of my hands. I’m the substitute.”

The class quickly got noisy, and rowdy. I fired a toy cap pistol to get their attention. I carried it to get the smilodons used to gunfire. That’s similar to how hunting dogs are trained.

“Word of warning, I can be a right bitch when I need to. Give us all a break, and let’s have a calm, productive class. I promise it won’t be boring, ‘k’?” I said.

I loosened the next to last button on my blouse, just shy of the point where things would get interesting. It got their attention. They calmed down after a few grumbles. I stood up to hold their attention and to show off my outfit.

~~I paid good money for this. It’s cute and almost decent. It’s a proper school uniform blouse. It’s not see-through, not completely. ~~

“See, class, that was a minor example of abuse of power. I had knowledge that you didn’t, and I took advantage of it. Think back to the assigned readings and give me examples of abuse of power that have had an impact on mutant/normal relations. Feel free to speak your mind. There is no wrong or right answer here. The worst that will happen is you’ll make a fool of yourself and I’ll have to comfort you, ooh,” I said that last bit seductively, and the class laughed.

They’re a bright bunch of teens and came up with every example I did, and a few I’d missed. They behaved well, and I was proud of them. For Dr. Kelly’s benefit I took note of who contributed in addition to recording everything on a camera and microphone attached to my laptop. I typed up my notes and e-mailed the works, video included, to Dr. Kelly that night. Hir was pleased and told us so at the next class on the 18th. We’d covered everything hir’d intended and several topics from the next assignment.

“I thank you for showing maturity and discipline, and making the substitute’s job that much easier. As for her, the less said the better, or her head will explode.”

I giggled, and blushed.

“Great effort, each and every one of you, now from our last class, the first record showing knowledge of mutants in the American colonies was where, and when, anyone?”

* * * *

I’ve got an interesting assignment after lunch today. I’m substituting for one of the magic teachers... should be interesting as I know nothing about magic.

* * * *

To be continued
Thanks again to assistance generously provided by Itinerant and Janet Nolan

Notes:

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