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

This story introduces some new characters (including Kimberly, of course), and advances the plot, but has very little 'action' of its own. It implies action based on many references that won't be understood without the aid of several preceding stories listed at the end. Consider reading those first.

BR&T date: Tuesday, 9 April 1996

"Hi Ken," the Bunnytail principal greeted. He muted the screams from the third-grade class he'd been monitoring and gave his full- well, most of his attention to his friend while watching Cassie Michaels squirm wildly but uselessly in the classroom stocks. From the way the girl strained her arms and legs, and the contortions of her bare back, shoulders, and hips, and how she tossed her head, he knew the third-grade boys were having fun, even if he couldn't hear what they heard, or see everything they saw. He'd be sure to watch the rest later.

"Hi Curt." Ken put his toolbelt down on Curt's desk, pulled over a chair, and sat down facing him. "What's new?"

"Rowan's following in his brother's very large footsteps," Curt gestured toward his monitor. "But that isn't new, is it? What's new with you?"

Ken got right to the point. "What are you going to do about Camille?"

"Do?" Curt asked. "What's the problem?"

"Open your eyes, Curt. We both know, in fact all of us know, that the only reason you made Camille a cheerleader in the first place was because Mary Jane is so unbelievably gorgeous. We all expected Camille to, shall we say, follow in her sister's very large footsteps." He sighed. "Obviously, she hasn't sweetened, and just as obviously, she never will. She sweetinned instead, going from a cute girl to a dog in one year. She doesn't show any signs of becoming the next Mary Jane Lister. She isn't even shaping up as a Mary Claire Bitters, either. Face it, Curt: she's Plain Jane. Even if she'd stand out as pretty at some other school, she's sticking out like a sore thumb at Bunnytail. Take a look at this." Ken pulled a paper from his pocket, unfolded it on the desk, and turned it around so Curt could see it.

"What am I looking at?" Curt asked. "Looks like a bunch of space lines. Or a chiasmus from all the criss-crossing going on."

"The most reliable way to tell how attractive a girl is to guys is to count the guys who are attracted to her enough to want to watch her. That's one of the advantages of the nurse's office vids, to see how many guys tune in to watch the girl going around and around, just doing nothing, and nothing being done to her. That way, we know it's not the action that draws them in, so it has to be the girl, and we get an untainted comparison. You're looking at the chart for this school year, starting last fall. Each girl is a different line. The criss-crossing, as you call it, is because with few exceptions, the younger girls get more popular during the school year, and the older ones gradually lose their appeal, down to almost nothing by sixth grade, just as you'd expect."

"Of course. I still don't see what you're getting at, Ken."

"The cheerleaders are in red. The top three up until February were Nicole, Mary Jane, and Hannah, swapping places from week to week, but all clustered at the top. Then this one popped up, the new one. She zoomed right to the top, despite being ten!! That kind of popularity is unprecedented for a girl so old! Then her line goes red when Anya's line down here ends, the way Kayla replaced Hannah. This line holding steady at fourth is Kaiah. Notice that those four cheerleader lines, or five after mid-February and back to four by March, are all above the crowd of black lines that make up most of the chart."

"I remember you showing me something like this before. That's why I made Oceanna a cheerleader instead of Terra, because guys thought she was way cuter. Even if she did scream less than Terra as the stars in their First Videos. So?"

"So guess who this red line down here represents? Yes, that's right, one of the cheerleaders can barely stay ahead of Bitters! The numbers don't lie, Curt. Last week, only a hundred or so guys wanted to see Camille stark naked and tied spread wide, pussy lips open, under bright lights. And some of those were probably by mistake. Bitters got sixty, possibly every one a mistake, though there's no accounting for taste, as you know. Compare that to eight thousand views that the average girl gets, and the twenty thousand the top ones get, including Mary Jane and the new one. Does it surprise you that some of the shops even asked us to take back the life-size posters of Camille? That hasn't happened since Mary Claire was in second grade!" He showed his annoyance by picking up the paper and shoving it back in his pocket.

"Look, Curt, you know the only reason we haven't thrown Mary Claire out on her blotchy lop-sided ass is because she's almost as good at terrorizing the other girls as the boys are. We have no such reason to keep Camille here at all, let alone as a cheerleader. You have to do something about it this week. Preferably today. Preferably now."

"I see. Before she goes up in Bob's store window as a shining example of Bunnytail's best, you mean."

"Exactly. Bob's new operation wants girls in the store window that guys want to see stark naked and tied spread wide, pussy lips open, under bright lights. Anything sound familiar?"

"Alright, you convinced me, Ken. Who would you suggest instead?"

"Well, I had my eye on Georgia-"

"Both eyes and a dozen lenses, admit it! So did I and twenty thousand other guys!" Curt laughed. "That little doll is finally getting what she deserves. Seeing her face when that trucker went in was one of the most satisfying moments I've ever had, in a long line of satisfying moments. I've never been quite that thankful for your cameras before or since, Ken. I still rewatch that moment sometimes. Ever think about making it a poster? But anyway, Georgia's out. Dolly too, and I'm sure she would have been the next one you mentioned." Ken nodded. "So who's your favorite now, of the ones still in school, and not already one of the cheerleaders, that is?"

"Kimberly Steinwald," Ken answered without hesitation.

Curt thought a second. "That class already has two cheerleaders. Oceanna and one of the Clark twins. I keep getting them mixed up. The one with white ribbons. Pink is in K south. You'd think with their names on the ribbons, I could keep the two of them straight, but whatever." He thought a bit more. "Kim's older sisters are probably somewhere at the bottom of all those average black lines on your chart, too. They were just pretty enough to be here, never cheerleader choices." He switched his monitor to the north kindergarten class, and watched her awhile. With a little more work, he found video of the cutie taking a shower in the girl's show room, wiggling her little bottom around, then climbing down and back up, facing the nine cameras the second time.

He located Kimberly on the cinder blocks as her classmates practiced a play in drama class. He finally tore his eyes away and called up Kimberly's most recent session in the nurse's office, where the lighting and focus were both excellent. "She's a little sweetie alright," he admitted. "Nice reflexes in drama class with good lungs for a fiver, perfect little body with a face to match, good balance under the shower. She even cries from cords on her wrists that aren't all that tight! That'll make Bob happy. You got her, Ken."

He pressed a button on a panel at the side of his desk, leaned forward to a microphone, and spoke. "Kimberly Steinwald, come to my office." The little scream of 'why!?' just before he released the button made both men chuckle. He pressed a different button and leaned toward the microphone. "Camille Lister, come to my office. Bring your cheerleader uniform." He released the button and turned back to Ken. "I'll call Bob and let him know. Want to wait and watch?"

"Can't stay," Ken said. "I'm putting a couple more cameras in the gym today, ones that can be adjusted without climbing up to them, but I have a lot of climbing to do before they work. Also, I have to replace two of the motors in the detention hallway, so you can lift a ten-year-old without burning them out! The old ones weren't designed for that load, or don't you remember? That was as stupid as what we impeached Jeff for twenty years ago, maybe worse, since he only lifted a seven-year-old."

"Ken, you were the only one voting for impeachment based on him abusing your electronics. The rest of us were pissed that he didn't share the goodies, and let one of them get away. Whatever. Sorry about the motors. It isn't often there's a ten-year-old worth putting in hallway detention, and I forgot in all the excitement. The fifth-graders were impatient to get at her."

"Understandable," Ken shrugged. "Just pick her up yourself, or get the boys to do it next time. Those motors were meant for moving the bars and cords, then locking to hold the position, not for lifting the girl. Just so you know, when I leave today the motors on the west end will be able to lift one twelve-year-old or two sixers at once. Any girl any heavier would have been long gone. West end only, I'll mark the controls so you don't forget." He picked up his toolbelt and strode out.

In the hallway, he passed a super-cute girl as she tried to get up the courage to go in and face the principal. "Hi Kimberly," he called on the way by. "I hope it's too loose to stay up!"

'Who is he?' the frightened little girl wondered. 'And what's he talking about?'

The principal picked up the phone, dialed a number from memory, and got an answer on the first ring. "Hi Bob. Ken and I had a chat about your problem, and we've picked out a replacement for the, um, faulty item in the original requisition. We've made the substitution and amended the schedule accordingly."

"No need to be cryptic, Curt. No one's here but me."

"Alright, I'll drop the codewords. We picked a very deserving little fuckrag by the name of Kimberly to replace Camille, who never would have been accepted at Bunnytail if not for her sister. Kimberly will be at Strong Family Ties wednesday next week, the same day the other one would have been. She's five, in kindergarten north. Check out her performance in the Rain of Swats practice! Best in her class, I personally think, and that says a lot, considering who else is in her class. I'll print a new Bunnytail display card for her and send it over with Ken. There's one other problem I need your advice on, Bob."

"Name it."

"Camille."

"Where is she now?" Bob asked.

"Under my desk, being useful until I hear what else to do with her."

Bob considered. "Have her write a note. Mary Jane picks on her, she can't take it, she's running away. I'll have someone bring a van for her. Take her out through the maintenance room. I guess we'll try to unload her at this month's swat meet, lavender card before the auction. There must be a market for homely girls. Just look at hollywood these days. Maybe there'll be a producer there, and this'll be her big break, she'll be taken, and be an uptown girl before you know it. If we don't get any bids, we'll put her under a grey card for the rest of the day. I'm sure someone will take her, homely though she may be. It's a bit of an embarassment for us if we have to use a grey card to get rid of a Bunnytail cheerleader, but it'll be worse the longer she's there. That solve your problem?"

"Almost perfectly, but now there's another vacancy in first grade."

"Not to worry. Jeremy got a tip-off from a reader about a few in Oregon who might be worth a trip to see them, pretending to check out their father's skills with a chainsaw. One of the girls is in first grade, and they're all first rate. I've seen the pictures of them, and if the clod knows how to start a chainsaw, I'll recommend making an offer. If he can't even manage that, some large 'chain store' will probably hire him as a manager, but Jeremy won't take him. He has his limits, after all."

"Not every clod would sink so low as to work for a company that cares only about money. You refused Ass-to-risk Mart, didn't you, when they tried to recruit you straight out of business college? Sure, you had aims higher than money, but even a clod could have that much decency, Bob."

"True. Besides the clod, we also heard of a widow in Alaska. Husband fell out of a helicopter while taking tourists hunting. Good riddance, I think. She ran the office for him, so Jeremy's a bit leery of her, but she's got a gorgeous little sixer and four more real cuties on the way up. Neighbor who knows their babysitter got a peek, sent us a few shots. Do you think the new super would like to have a secretary despite her questionable morals?"

"Carson? Sure, keep him happy, keep his daughter around for a couple more years, I'd say. I would really miss her. The widow has five kids, and all of them are girls, for real? That would be icing on the cake, if it keeps Carson here. Though I suspect he's caught on and he's already perfectly happy to stay. I mean, he's the one who signed up his kid to go to 'therapy' all alone, walking thirteen blocks to get there, and he's not stupid."

"We took a chance and tested that yesterday, Curt, delivering that bed we told you about. As soon as he found her bedroom link, he watched for hours, Ken says, and never even went looking for anyone else. Hasn't said a word about it to anyone since, that we know of. Have to say, I think we could come right out and tell him, and he'd tell us he already knew, and we'd all have a good laugh together while watching his daughter's latest. No reason to take that step yet, though. Wouldn't do him or us any good. Perfect the way it is: she thinks he doesn't know, and keeps telling her friend she hopes he'll figure it out. It'll be fun to see how long that'll last."

As he'd been talking, Bob had found Kimberly's menu and checked out the nurse's office first, then found the Rain of Swats practice. "Whoa! Nice reflexes on the stage!" he exclaimed. "Who's that boy in the grey jacket? He's got real potential. And was she crying about the cords in the nurse's office? They aren't even all that tight!"

"That's what I said," Curt snickered. "I knew you'd like her. Her panties are hanging on the wall behind me and she's back in class wearing nothing but a cheerleader uniform: one of those pink slips and matching panties, both two sizes too large for her. The kindergarten boys are 'liking' her, too, even if half of them have no idea what to do to her."

"Learning is what they're in school for. Al will keep showing them what a girl is good for until they get the idea. Oh, wait a minute, Curt. Change of plans. Wednesday next week is the third wednesday of the month. No one will be at the new store to see Kimberly, since it'll be closed that day, for obvious reasons. Bring her straight to the arboretum as soon after school that day as you can."

"Only if you promise me lavender for her. Anything less is a waste."

"What, throw her in the deep end from the beginning and see how she swims, is that it? Some people prefer giving her a little taste of things to come, and let her fret awhile. Like Mary and Stella, who still get orange cards, and they're almost six. Everyone is eager for the next change, and hoping it'll be lavender, except them. They're terrified!" He laughed. "You win, Curt. You bring Kimberly, and you can fill out the card yourself as her owner. Tell Rod I said so. Just make sure she's there right after school."

"She'll be there. I'll take her myself. Half a dozen times, I figure. Unless Georgia and Hannah are there, too, then it'll be twice each. Don't bring Dolly and Kaitlyn, or I won't be able to walk the next day. On second thought, bring them, please."

"You have to pace yourself, Curt! We're not as young as we were when each of us took each of the Fontana twins four times in one night."

"That's my point, Bob! We didn't let Rhiannon or Melinda 'fret' before we raped 'em sixteen times, did we? We were in a hurry then, to get 'em while they were hot. I see no reason to go any slower now. But to each his own. See you later, Bob. I have to get this one packed up for delivery. Bye."

He hung up the phone, slid his chair back, and looked under his desk.

"Get your mouth up here now, Camille. Just as wide. That's a good girl. Keep practicing on this, you might get some bids after all. Or a show biz contract. Turn around, I'm just going to check your wrists."

"MmuuuaAhhw!!"

"Tight enough. Now say goodbye to Bunnytail. You won't be back."

"Mmuuuaahhwwww."