This is a story. It never happened and never will. The General Disclaimer is incorporated herein by reference.

BR&T date: Wednesday, 19 April 1995

By mid-morning, when a non-descript grey van arrived, the parking lot in the arboretum already had the appearance of a small convention. Over a hundred cars, trucks, and vans filled the lot, and even one limo, thus showing over a hundred times as many visitors as a typical day at the arboretum. The surrounding forest of willow trees shuddered and wept at the loss of limbs, but they always had a month to grow back.

"Alright, this part is a little tricky," the driver turned to the van's occupants. "If any of you get out of the van and go around getting in trouble, they'll kick us all out, so I want you all to stay right here and wait, in the van, while I get us all invited in. Ever read The Hobbit, anyone? Oh, duh. Anyone ever read it to you, I mean? Well, it's like that time with the dwarves getting in to see Beorn. Stay here and be patient and this'll be a lot of fun. Don't anyone let anyone else mess it up for everyone."

A dozen high voices promised to stay, and told the others to stay.

"Good. This shouldn't take long. When escorts come to get you, do what they say and don't argue. They'll probably only take a few of you at a time, like the dwarves, but you'll all be in before you know what hit you. Don't spoil it. See you soon, sweeties!"

A dozen excited voices said they couldn't wait, but they would.

The man stepped out of the van, which he had parked at the far side of the lot just in case there would be any more arrivals making noise. He strode over to the gate and entered. As he passed through the hedge isolating the parking from the garden within, he immediately noticed faint sounds that he expected from the sort of party he wanted to attend: low and slow, loud and shrill, or sharp and snappy, and plenty of each. The final hedge blocked most of the sound, but if you knew what you were listening to, you could make out what was happening. "Good, I got here in time!" he called to a man sitting at a table who looked way past bored, and anxious to join the festivities. "I need an entire row!!"

That shook the man out of his boredom. "Yaaa.. What ya saying? Ya mean ya got a dozen for us!? Serious!?"

"Yep, sure do. I need an entire row, seriously. I want to keep them all together today. And there's something else-"

"What kinda cards ya want for 'em?" the man at the table interrupted. "Any of 'em been here before?"

"Nope, they're all new," the second man answered. "And what's more, they're all virgins, so far as I can tell. They had a very short discussion among them on the way here that they didn't think I heard, and not one even knows what the parts are or do. Now, something else, I need help getting them in here. They all think they're going to a party. They're all loose out there in my van."

"Whoa. Let me get the crew." The registrar ran off and soon returned with three other men.

One held out his hand. "I'm Robert Blackrock. Rod says you have a dozen to bring in. A dozen virgins. Is he joking? This isn't the first, and besides, April's first was before my time."

The driver took the hand and shook. "For real. And I need help bringing them in, since there's so many, and no restraints other than not wanting to get in trouble and get us all kicked out of your party. Like that would ever happen! I was thinking you could bring them in from the van two at a time, with 'escorts' to make sure they're away from the rest before they figure out what's going on. I'll stay here to register them all while you guys put them in their places... literally. Heh."

The registar interrupted. "Before we jump the gun, how old are they? We don't need any old hags here if they're virgins just because they're the sort no one would want ta touch. Beggin' yer pardon."

The driver smiled. "Understandable. I'm not bringing in grey-card crap for the last row, wasting your time. I'd guess the oldest could be eight, but all the rest are better. You'll get a lot of good years from all of them, and like what you get, believe me. Picked them out myself."

"That's a story I want to hear," Robert laughed. "Sounds like you have it worked out. Ken, you and Jeremy want to do the honors? Or should I auction it off to the highest bidder?"

"We'll do it!" Ken and Jeremy said at the same instant. It wasn't every month they got the chance to escort twelve virgins two at a time. Except for Bunnytail's youngest classes, they hardly ever saw that many virgins all together in one place, and certainly not for very long. "Where's the van?" Ken asked.

"Grey ford at the far corner. Here's my key if you need to move it."

"Remind them to wait, every time," Robert advised. "We don't want to have to chase them all down, or risk one getting away. See you inside," he finished, giving the driver another handshake, before hurrying off. Jeremy and Ken also hurried off, but toward the parking lot.

The registrar sat down at the table. "Any limitations?" he asked.

"None but the site's own," came the answer, "or any placed by the buyers afterward. Yes, I'm selling every last one of them, then retiring to a tropical island. Just kidding about the island. But I expect anyone will do whatever they want to any of them, barring injuries, which are already banned, naturally. Enjoy them to the fullest and deepest!"

"As a seller with a dozen virgins, wouldn't ya want 'em sold the way they were when ya brought 'em in? That's a limitation, regardless what happens after. Of course, as the seller, you or anyone else ya let can do anything ya wanta do to 'em."

"Sounds good. We'll do it your way."

The registrar nodded, pulled a new packet out of a box, unwrapped it, and counted a dozen untouched cards, each as white as the virgin snow.

"Twelve virgins!" he marveled. "And all of 'em up for grabs. If he was serious about the twins if there was no competition today, Harris oughta have an easy decision now. Ah wonder if the little Roberts fucktoys will even realise what they just missed, or if they'll be too busy getting what they're good for ta think about anything else."

A couple of minutes later, Ken and Jeremy returned with two girls. One with short curly brownish-blond hair wore very loose purple bikini panties held together by large brass rings at the sides, and a matching top with rings at the center and sides. Her skin showed from foot to neck, except for minor interruptions. The other girl had long light blond hair in a ponytail and wore a yellow bikini with a short white frill around the waist. The two 'escorts' had their arms wrapped around the girls from the moment they passed the outermost hedge. Four strong hands held four frail wrists as the girls noticed the eerie sounds and looked around nervously.

"There you are, spice! And you, sugar!," the driver called. "Do I remember that you're Kelly and you're Tessy? Good. Come on up here, Kelly, and tell this man what he wants."

"At her age, Ah doubt she has any idea what Ah want!" Rod laughed. "Yet!" he smirked.

Ken brought her forward, keeping close contact with her, and not out of necessity yet. He picked her up by her waist, keeping his hands around her wrists. Her bikini panties slid down a bit, the rings on the sides hanging loose. One had to wonder what held them up, if anything. It certainly wasn't willpower, since all the willpower of everyone who cared urged them to fall.

"What's yer full name, Kelly?" Rod asked. "How old are ya? When's yer birthday?"

"Kelly Shudders," she answered, evoking several grins. "I'm this many-" she tried to raise her hand and couldn't. Ken lifted her higher and stood her on top of the table, at which the registrar mouthed a silent 'thank you!' as he looked up at her loose bikini panties within his reach. "I'm this many," Kelly said, holding up four slender fingers, then opened her hand out and added, "I'll be this many in June." She added, on being prompted, "Kelly Isabelle Shudders. June seventh, I think." After another prompt, she asked "What's that? I don't know." She turned to the other girl and asked her, "What's 'fucked' mean?"

Tessy shrugged.

Ken laughed. "It means you're fucked, Kelly, but you haven't been yet."

"Ah'll put down a 'V' for ya, Kelly," the registrar winked, redundantly making the mark in the upper right corner of the card. "Ah'll clear out row six for ya," he said to the van driver, "only having ta move two who probably didn't deserve ta be that far back in the first place. Kelly would be front row, but Ah'll keep 'em together like ya asked. Take her ta 6 A," he told Ken, "then tell Bob ta move the ones in 6 G and J ta 5 D and L first chance. Make sure they're out of the way before Ah need the spaces." He handed them badges marked 5D and 5L. "Trade these badges with the other owners when ya find 'em."

"Got it. Come along," Ken said, taking the little doll in his arms again, face to face with him. She wrapped her legs around him. He carried her away from the table and out of sight into the rows of arching trellises. He'd picked up a handful of cords from a box when his hands were free, but Kelly didn't see them until too late.

"Ya're a lively one, Tessy, and oh so pretty!" the registrar complimented the next girl. Jeremy placed her sitting on top of the table and scooted her backward so her bikini panties slid down an inch. "What's yer full name, and yer age and birthday, Tessy? Is Tessy a nickname?"

"I'm Theresa Janice Crawford," Tessy answered proudly while looking over her shoulder. "Tessy is just what everyone calls me. I'm four, too," she smiled. A long shrill sound distracted her before she gave her birthday. She turned back to him without the smile.

"Wow, four two? Ya don't look that old, or that tall either!"

"No, silly, I'm four, same as Kelly," she said, her smile returning, then disappearing again just as suddenly. "Someone's calling for Mark," she said.

"That's Mark's problem. Ever been fucked before today, Tessy? Wait, first, what's yer birthday?" he asked.

"January eleventh. I don't know what that is," Tessy answered.

"We'll see that you find out," Jeremy assured her, smiling as he picked her up from the table. "Lots and lots of times. To 6 B, right?" A nod sent him away with her.

The van driver chatted amiably with the registrar while pinning ten badges to himself, leaving room for the missing two, in three rows of four. He looked like a decorated war hero, but he was sure he'd get more appreciation that day than they ever did. They waited for Ken and Jeremy to bring the next pair of girls. "I hope 'lots and lots' means at least thirty apiece," the driver joked.

"That could take hours," Rod winked. "Good thing we have plenty of time! By the way, not for a card, but what's yer name? And tell me, how did ya manage ta bring in twelve virgins?? We oughta make ya part of the team!"

"Mitch," he offered a hand. "It was easier than you'd think. You just-" he began, but had to stop.

Jeremy and Ken arrived, 'escorting' (trying to keep up with) two beautiful brown-haired girls wearing Hawaiian-style grass skirts (made of plastic strands, of course), white panties that showed through constantly, and narrow tops that didn't stay in their intended places for one second.

"Say hello to Anya and Tanya, guys," the driver introduced them. "Hey, girls, want to show them how well you can do handstands?"

"Yes!" they both squealed. "Hold us upside-down!" Tanya ordered, and before you could say 'get those damned panties off' the girls had their hands on the real grass, their feet in the air, and the plastic grass of their skirts hanging down over their faces. Ken and Jeremy held a pair of ankles each - wide apart.

"Ah keep telling ya, Ken, ta put more cameras out here," Rod pointed out. "Ya ready ta listen, now?" Picking up two more cards, he urged, "Let's get down ta work, or this will take all day, and time's wasting. Names, ages, birthdays, status- Ah think Ah'll just assume V for these two, after that display. Check later, of course. Alright with everyone?"

"Tell him your names, sweeties," the van driver said, "and age and birthday, so we can get to the party. Middle names, too."

"I'm Anya Whitham," one with a green skirt said. "Oh, Anya Kaishana Whitham," she corrected. "I'm seven. Um, March thirtieth."

"Tanya Beth Von Sky, I'm five," said the one with a golden skirt. "My birthday is- Hey, is someone crying? I think someone's crying," she said, looking toward the hedge, trying to decide whether she'd heard an anguished wail that no one else seemed to have noticed. "Ninth of June."

"Ya're not sisters?" Rod asked, erasing the last name he'd already written on the second card, trying to save time. After getting each name spelled out, especially Kaishana and verifying it was Tanya Elisabeth, he handed the cards to Ken. "Four down, eight ta go. Get going before the rest get antsy," he warned.

Once the escorts and the two girls disappeared around the end of the hedge, Rod turned back to the van driver. "Ya were gonna explain what was so easy about getting twelve virgins. Ah'm listening!!"

"Here's a hint, Rod: what do you call a virgin girl in Virginia?"

"Fast. Or ugly. Or an only child. Ah've heard each version, with more than a few states in the limelight, including this'n. Besides, even though Ah'm not from Arkansas, my little sister really resented that joke after my friends explained the Arkansas version of it to 'er while they fucked 'er. Ya shoulda heard 'er wail." Clearly amused by the memory, Rod did his best imitation of an outraged helpless naked four-year-old girl in the middle of getting raped by nearly a dozen teenage boys. "Ah am fast, but ya tricked me!!" He shrugged. "Anyway, Ah don't see how that helps, Mitch. Ah suppose the answer could be Virginia, but that's no help either."

"Think about the third answer a bit more," he winked. And that was all Rod could get out of him about it the rest of the day.

Ken soon returned with a blond pig-tailed Kathie Alicia Turner, six, whose face was beautiful but whose handstand she insisted on showing off wasn't nearly as impressive due to a stupid one-piece swimsuit designed by an ugly old prude who hated girls who weren't. Rod scratched out 'Cathy' and wrote in 'Katherine' and handed Ken the card, confident the suit wouldn't be in one piece much longer.

Jeremy brought in Tammy Yvonne Gibson, an absolutely gorgeous girl with wavy brown hair and brown eyes, wearing tiger-striped shoes, socks, dress, and even a matching headband. She bashfully answered all the questions except she wasn't sure when her birthday was, having only had three so far. More questioning narrowed it down to summer, at least. After seeing, unprompted, that her panties also matched, the men skipped the last question and Jeremy took her hand and hurried away with her.

The next two treats gave their names as Debby (Deborah) Rebecca Johnson, seven, May 10th, and Lisa Lianna Market, six, August 15th. The registrar wrote furiously, assigning each to the next available space on row six and sending them away with their 'escorts' (who made the most of their jobs). Despite his suspicions, he didn't ask if they were virgins, but he was sure other guys would soon let him know if either had been misrepresented.

Beth McColly arrived in a nearly non-existent brown and white two-piece bikini, impatiently pulling Ken by the hand, eager to get to the party. She jumped up and sat on the table at Rod's invitation, and helped him fill out the card by writing 'Bethany Diana McColly' on the card herself before telling him she was definitely a vegan, so she wasn't going to have any meat at the party. At five years old, she could write her name legibly, but not much else. Rod forced himself to tell her to get off the table and go with Ken. It saved him the trouble of explaining that those 'whacking' sounds she heard were whacking. She'd find out in person before the day was over, he figured, gazing wistfully at her as she departed, and hoping to be the one who taught her.

Winnie looked nervous from the instant she stepped inside the gate. The faint wails and sobbing sounds didn't reassure her. "I'm not dressed for a party," she told Jeremy. "I don't want to go anymore. I want to go home."

"Too bad. You're here, and you're not going anywhere," Jeremy told her firmly, pulling her to the table by force. He twisted her arms behind her and held her pinned as she squirmed. "Besides, we'll get you dressed for this party real soon!"

"Help!" she called to the van driver. "I want to go home!" she pleaded. When she refused to answer any questions and kept struggling, Jeremy and Mitch held her down in the grass, face down, while Rod tugged her yellow daisy pyjama bottoms down to her ankles. He applied his favorite form of interrogation and got her age. He pulled her pyjama bottoms the rest of the way off as Jeremy switched his grip, then had them flip the shrieking girl over to check her status. Satisfied, and sure that they'd learn the rest in time, the men stood her up and yanked her pyjama tops past her face, making her whimper. He sent the naked girl away in Jeremy's grasp, wailing and sobbing all the way in. Not that she stopped once she stood tied in 6 J, beside Beth. Far from it.

"That was refreshing," Rod chuckled to the van driver when Ken and Jeremy left to get the last two. "Admittedly, it's a change of pace ta have 'em walk in here willingly, but it's a lot more fun the other way, Ah think. Then sometimes Ah get ta persuade 'em ta behave, if ya know what Ah mean. Eight-year-olds generally resist longer than that, but still, that was fun. Good thing the cards don't apply until they're on display." Rod picked up and hid Winnie's pyjamas in the box with the few remaining implements. Getting an occasional souvenir was one privilege that often came with the job.

"These are the last of them," Ken confirmed, when they returned with two more girls. "We checked the van to be sure and moved it to the VIP parking space. Hope you don't mind," he said, as he returned the key with a smile.

Jeremy winked. "We'll have to introduce you to the Governor, whose limo we had to move. I don't think he'll be too put out."

"Let's get 'em checked in fast," Rod insisted. "Ah've missed too much of the party already and- My lord of wonders ya're a sight! What's yer name, beautiful? Come around this way and sit up here."

"Rachael." The girl moved around the table and climbed up where he said, sitting on the table facing him, with her legs wide apart.

He put his arms around her and pulled her closer, then changed his mind and slid her back. Her red bikini panties with little white polka dots first pulled very tight, then loosened considerably. "Ah'm gonna need yer whole name, Rachael, and yer age and birthday, for this party invitation for ya. Here, you fill this out," he said to Ken while handing the last card out to him, not taking his eyes - or his other hand - off of Rachael.

Six conversations mixed. "Full name?" "I'm five." "Dawn Miranda Neuhausen." "Age?" "July third." "Six." "Born?" "Still need yer name, beautiful. Give me all ya've got." "Um. April twenty... twenty-four. Yes, twenty-four." "Rachael Savannah Augustine." "You ever been fucked before today?" "Ya're just awesome. Ah'm gonna have a lot of fun with ya today!" Heee hee. "Ever been fucked?" "Hey, no tickling there!" "What?" "Well?" "Fucked, Dawn. As in 'I'm going to fuck you, Dawn' or maybe 'Waaah! He raped me!' or like that." "Huh? I don't know." "How about rape? Ever been raped before today?" "No, nothing like that." "I don't think so." "Ah'm surprised. Hey Ken, Rachael says she's never been raped before today. Can ya believe it?" "Can you tell me what's rape?" "Neither has Dawn. That makes twelve out of twelve, just like you said." "I told you I picked them myself." "Let's get 'em over there and change that. Ah've waited long enough. Ah claim Rachael." "Fair enough." "I'll flip you for Dawn." "Wahht do you meean?" "Don't ya think the guy who brought 'er oughta have a say in who gets Dawn first?" "What do you mean you 'claim' me?" "What's raaaape??" "Take her wrists." "Yeah, what's ra-Heyy!"

Red bikini panties with white polka dots landed on the grass beside the table, quickly followed by the matching top, a red skirt and flowery blouse, a pair of shoes and socks, and some cutesy butterfly panties on the top of the pile.

Together, the four men carried the struggling girls into the garden. Ken placed the cards, then had to get back to other work, and the van driver decided to check out the other entertainment at the party, leaving Rod and Jeremy to finish up.

A few minutes later, Dawn and Rachael stood side by side in a double-wide arched trellis covered in lilacs, with only a sturdy wooden post between them, but without even a hair ribbon between them. Unable to lower their arms or move their feet, or even try without hurting their wrists and ankles worse, the sobbing pleading girls learned what they and the other ten girls from the van, along with all the other girls they saw and heard all around them, were good for. Their first lesson answered all of their questions, plus some they hadn't even imagined asking.