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

BR&T date: about 1975

The instant the man had the door unlocked and opened, Cathy ran inside the house. After all, she didn't like being outside naked, even if the only one around was her rescuer. She entered a large room with sofas and chairs of various types surrounding an open area in the center. Unsure where to go from there, she stopped and stood, modestly covering her chest with her left arm and her pussy with her right hand. She turned to look at the man as he entered. Her expression of anxiety wasn't about him; it was for all of the terrible things that had happened to her since the previous evening.

"You get a nice hot bath first thing, Cathy," he told her reassuringly, waving her to come with him as he passed her and opened a door on the other side of the room. "I'll call my friends while you're in there, so they'll be here by the time you're done."

"What am I going to wear??" Cathy wondered anxiously. She doubted that this man, or his friend whose house it was, had anything for a little girl like her.

"Don't worry, Cathy. I'll get some nice clothes for you." He opened the tap on the bathtub and adjusted it to give pleasantly-warm water. "Make sure to rub the scratches on your legs gently, sweetheart," he added. "It'll soothe them and make them go away, so your legs will be pretty again. And see if it helps the marks on your wrists any, too."

Cathy waited in the corner, still covering herself, until the man shut off the tap, smiled at her, and left the room. He hadn't closed the door, but she didn't see him anymore, so Cathy approached the tub, and carefully stepped in, supporting herself with her hands on the sides as she lowered herself into the tub. She was disappointed there wasn't much water, but it was still nice and warm enough to be the best thing that had happened to her for many hours. She lay flat, but carefully kept her hair out of the water. She closed her eyes briefly and enjoyed the warmth. After awhile, she looked up at the ceiling, and noticed the decorations, about a dozen shiny glass circles arranged in a pattern. She thought they were very pretty.

Shortly, she thought she better get busy washing. Her sisters still needed her, and the sooner she got them help, the better. She sat up and looked around, didn't find what she expected, and called out to the man, "Hey mister, is there any soap?" Not getting any answer, she decided she had to wash without it. A moment later she called out, "Hey mister! Is there any washcloths?" Again, no one answered. He must be busy calling his friends, Cathy decided. She started washing herself without any washcloth, either. She gently rubbed the light scratches on her legs with her wet hands, and as the man had said, they softened and slowly disappeared. Rubbing her wrists the same way didn't have much effect. The red rings from the cords had been made in a much more brutal way, and would take time to fade. Only miracles could remove such markings any faster.

When she finished with her legs, she lay back again and swished her arms and legs around to splash the water up on her. There was so little water that it drained off her immediately, and just left her front wet in a few places. Taking handfuls of water up onto her chest and stomach didn't work very well either. She stood up on her knees and moved to the end of the tub with the tap. She tried getting it to run more water, but didn't have the strength to grip either the hot or the cold, even with both of her delicate hands on the small round knobs. Giving up, she lay back down in the water that she had. Cathy had never taken a bath all alone before, with no one to scrub the places she couldn't reach.

Determined to get clean of the dirt she'd slept on in the forest, she turned over in the tub, face down, and swished her arms and legs around again. She rubbed her hands on her wet bottom, and tried sliding them up her back, giving up when it hurt to bend them any farther. She put her hands behind her neck and tried reaching down her back from above, and that, too, failed, since she couldn't reach far enough. She turned over again and rubbed her hands all over her front, rubbing the dirt off her titties, her belly, and her pussy. She splashed a few more handfuls of water on herself to rinse off.

She sat up when she heard voices through the open bathroom door. The man must have called several friends, since she heard many voices. At first they were quiet so she could barely hear, then they got excited with lots of them talking at once so she couldn't understand, then someone shushed them so they were quiet again. The same thing happened with more and more voices arriving while she finished washing her face, neck, and ears using nothing but her wet fingers.

She cautiously looked at the open door, saw no one, and lifted herself out of the bathtub. She stood dripping wet beside it, covering herself with her hands again just in case anyone walked by the door. She looked all around the room. There were more of the pretty decorations on each of the walls, but nothing she hoped to find. "Hey mister!" she called loudly. "Isn't there any towels, neither!?"

At last, the man answered her, by actually coming to the door. "Come along," he told her. "You can dry off over here." He walked out of her sight.

Timidly, Cathy moved to the door and peeked out. There were half a dozen or more men in the large room, all seated and facing the large central area. The man she knew stood beside a door across the room, another door that had been closed when she first arrived. She hid behind the narrow doorframe and looked at him bashfully.

"Come along," he repeated, waving her to him. "These are my friends, and they're going to help me, but you have to get dressed. Come along," he insisted, gesturing at the doorway beside him.

Cathy made sure she had her titties and pussy covered, and quickly stepped out of the bathroom and ran across the room to the doorway, glancing at some of the men as she raced past. None of them were just glancing at her. She ducked behind the doorframe as soon as she got through it.

The man entered behind her. "Some clothes for you are there," he pointed, "and there's something to dry off with." He left the room, once again leaving the door open.

Cathy looked around in astonishment, finding herself in a little girl's bedroom, with a lovely lavender and white canopy bed, other stylish furnishings, carpeting, lacy white curtains on the windows, even posters of cartoon characters, all of them pretty girls, though she didn't recognise any of them. Fancy decorations covered the walls, of rainbows, butterflies, flowers, and hearts, polka dots and stars, big and little swirls, and even, she barely noticed among the rest, more of the shiny glass circles she'd seen in the bathroom. Through the window into the back yard, a delightful pink and purple swingset beckoned her. Finally, on a low table, the man had neatly laid out a pretty white dress with a pink waistband, a pair of lavender panties, short lacy white socks, and a shiny white pair of shoes. Everything she saw delighted and amazed her.

But when she thought to close the door, she realised that it opened outward. She would have to go out into the room with all the men, naked in front of all of them, to close the door to the bedroom. If that wasn't bad enough, it looked to her like one of the sofas had been slid in front of the door and would have to be moved, which she was sure would take the men to help her. She decided it wasn't important enough. Cautiously keeping an eye on the door again in case one of them came by, she crossed to the table.

There she found a washcloth for her to dry herself off with.

'Not everything can be perfect,' she sighed, guessing they were out of clean towels. When she tried to unfold it, she discovered that it was only half of a washcloth. She dried herself the best she could with it, once again being unable to reach part of her back, no matter how hard she tried bending her arms up behind her.

She considered rolling on the bed to dry herself off the rest of the way, but she thought it would be very rude to mess up another girl's bed and get it all wet besides, and since she was a good girl, she couldn't.

She had an idea, and sat down on the floor, then turned to lay down, face up. In that position, she noticed more of the pretty glass circles on the ceiling, in the same pattern as the bathroom. She squirmed around on the carpet for awhile, pushing with her heels far apart for better leverage and her hands beside her head to steady herself, back and forth, back and forth, until she was sure her back was dry. Quite pleased with her ingenuity, she stood and turned to the clothes on the table by the far wall, ready to get dressed. The table came up almost to her knees. It must be a play pretend table, she decided.

Facing the table and all the pretty decorations on the wall above it, she stepped into the lavender panties and pulled them up. They fit perfectly. She pulled the dress onto her arms, slid it over her head, and wriggled to get it down into place. It fit perfectly. She took the socks and shoes, sat on the edge of the canopy bed, and raised her leg to put on a sock. Then she saw a movement at the door. She looked up quickly, and thought she saw a man just disappearing from view. With her dress on, she didn't care anymore. She went back to putting on her sock, finishing so the lacy frill on the sock lined up perfectly with her ankle. She raised her other leg to put on the other one, then finished by slipping her feet into the shiny white shoes and buckling the fancy silver buckles. They fit her perfectly. She felt like an angel, or a fairy.

Cathy left the bedroom, reluctantly, still bedazzled by how nice it was. She hoped maybe after her sisters were rescued, they could all come back there to play. She moved to stand beside the man who had found her by the road that morning, the only one in the room she knew at all. A few more men had arrived while she was drying off and dressing. The room quieted and all eyes were on her. "Who is the bedroom for?" she asked him. If there was another girl in the house, she wanted to meet her. She turned and lowered herself to sit on his lap, in preference to sitting between two strange men on one sofa, or two others on the other one. Those four men weren't the only ones looking envious.

"Hey! Wait a second, Bob!!" one of the men seated on a sofa interrupted, glaring at Cathy's companion, then her, and back. "I thought we were saving that one for a special occasion!"

"I don't think there will be any occasions more special than this, not in a lifetime," he responded boldly. "But you guys can tell me later if you think I wasted it." Responding to Cathy's question, he looked back at her. "Ask Jeremy about the bedroom," he suggested politely, waving his hand at a man seated in a large chair. "It's his house."

Turning to the indicated man, Cathy repeated herself, "Um..." she hesitated to use a man's first name. "Mister Jeremy? Who is the bedroom for? Do you have any other little girls here?"

Some of the men chuckled. "It's for the girl in it," Jeremy answered, mysteriously.

"I was in it," Cathy pointed out. "Do you mean it was for me?"

"Sure was, sweetie! And thank you for tha-" one of the other men quipped, until his neighbor rapped him with his knuckles. Jeremy and some of the others glared at him as if to tell him to shut up.

"Who is the swingset for?" Cathy asked, unsatisfied.

"That's for the girl on it," Jeremy answered again, still not quite answering her question.

Cathy tried another way. "Whose dress is this?" she asked plainly, expecting to get a plain answer at last.

"It's for the girl in it," Jeremy answered, no plainer than before. "Though there hasn't been for a long long time," he riddled. With a glance at Bob, but speaking to Cathy, he added, "I sure hope you're worthy."

"Alright, let's get started," Bob decided.

"About time!" the rappee cheered, getting to his feet.

"Sit down, Curt!" Bob barked. He lifted Cathy and set her on her feet, and stood. He flicked a switch on the wall and stepped into the center of the room, now lit by a ring of bright lights all around. "I call this emergency meeting of the Pret- um..." he paused, hesitating, then continued "the P. D. R. T. C. to order. Vice President Bob presiding in the absence of the President."

"We really need to change that name, guys," someone commented. "We aren't kids any more."

"That's not on the agenda for this meeting!" Bob growled, stopping a chorus of cheers and suggestions. "Let's stick to the order of business."

"I can guess the first order of business," Curt smirked, leaning forward eagerly and staring at Cathy despite his sore skull.

Another added in a warning tone, "I hope you're right, but where's Jeff? Remember the first bylaw."

"I didn't even call him," Bob replied. The crowd grumbled, some angrily, some demanding an explanation. "And the first order of business, Curt," he snapped, "is the impeachment of the President. For violation of the first and second bylaws."

That caused a loud, surprised, and confused discussion. Bob waved his arms and yelled at them, "Shut up and listen!" It wasn't exactly according to Robert's Rules of Order, but it worked. When the room quieted, he gestured for Cathy to step forward to the center of the room with him.

"What's going on?" she asked in bewilderment. She didn't understand all the adult talk of orders and bylaws and such. "What's peachment? Are you going to help my sisters with it?" she pleaded.

"You have sisters, too!?" Curt exclaimed. "This is ge-Oww! Getting better and better!" he finished quickly, protecting his head.

"Curt," a man on a sofa spat, "we have three very simple rules for this club, ten words in total, but you can't seem to remember the last three words no matter how much we try to beat them into you. If you weren't so... productive... in other ways, we would have kicked you out long ago."

"You wouldn't even consider it," Curt retorted. "You know I... produce... half the reason the club exists in the first place! Especially now. And she doesn't know what I'm talking about anyway."

Ignoring the interruption as best he could, Bob gestured to Cathy more insistently, and said, "Come out here." When she meekly came forward and stood beside him, he continued. "Cathy, here, is going to tell you a very interesting story. Go ahead, Cathy. These are my friends and they want to hear what you have to tell them." Aside to the other men, he added, "Now welcome her, guys, then let her talk."

"Hi, Cathy. We're glad you're here," Jeremy told her. Others agreed, saying "That's true!" and "I'll say we are!" and "Literally true!" and so forth.

For a change, Curt shut his mouth, but tapped his foot impatiently, as if talking wasn't what he wanted to hear from her.

Nervously, Cathy looked around the room, at the men waiting on her to speak, everyone except one listening to her with avid interest. She wasn't sure where to begin to tell these men what had happened to her and her sisters, but she knew they were going to help, so she took a breath, and took Bob's hand for support in the coming task. To her dismay, he shook her off and left her alone in the center of the room, surrounded by men she had never seen before. She noticed some more of the pretty shiny circles on the walls, but she didn't let them or the bright lights distract her from telling the story of what the bad bad man had done to her and her sisters.