Chapter One

Billy and Amy waved to their parents from the front door, masking their mutual pleasure with a theatrical airiness. "Bye!," yelled Amy. "Have a good time!"

They had the door closed before the car had even pulled away. "Dibs on Friday!," Billy shouted.

"Bite me. I'm having Jason over Friday and Saturday. You can have Sunday."

Billy scowled. "Hey, it was my idea that they go away for the weekend. I made-- I talked them into it."

"Yeah, like they'd listen to you. Anyway, Jessica is moving to the dorms. You'll have all the time you want to hang out with her. I hardly ever get to see Jason."

"But --"

She gestured with a slender arm. "Argument over. I'm supposed to be watching you this weekend, and I'm going to be watching you stay out of my way." She flipped her dark hair and ran up the stairs.

Billy grumbled all the way up. Amy was already on the phone to Jason as he passed her door. "You know, you could be nicer to me," he yelled into her room. "You said Jessica and I were good together." She waved him off dismissively.

He was still grumbling as reached his bedroom and grabbed a thick graphic novel from his shelve. He plopped on the bed -- and was surprised when a thinner comic book slid out onto his bedspread.

"What the --?"

He examined the artifact -- by all evidence a 1950s-era romance comic that had somehow gotten stuck in the pages of League of Extraordinary Gentlemen at the comic store. The cover showed a close-up of a blonde girl with tears in her eyes, holding a photo of a boy. A thought balloon bubbling from her head carried the words, "Oh Kent, when will you realize I love you!" The Technicolor title spelled out "True Young Romance."

He opened the pages, and immediately burst into laughter. His glee became raucous as he flipped through the book, until tears were rolling down his face.

Amy opened the door. "What are you laughing about? Are you high?"

"Th -- this is great stuff," he said, wiping his cheek. He adopted a high-pitched girl voice and read from the page. "'Oh Cindy, do you think Chuck will ask me to the prom? He's dreeeaammy.'" He fell into another round of laughter.

"I guess your taste in reading has improved."

"Hey, Amy? Do you think Jason's dreeeaammy?" He batted his eyelashes at his sister.

"Grow up, geek. You know, I don't have to give you Sunday."

Billy stopped laughing and put down the comic, his mood darkening. "Yeah? I didn't have to give you Jason."

"What's that supposed to mean?" She put her hands on her hips.

Billy stood up and walked to the corner of his bedroom. His project was there, still in the red wagon, but smaller and more stable than it once was. He'd spent the last month refining his design, replacing bulky components with smaller parts. He smiled with pride: it could almost pass as a harmless science fair project now, if it weren't for that car battery and the Frankenstein switch.

"I said, what's that supposed to mean?"

He flipped the switch. There was a pop and the smell of ozone as it powered up, and the room was flooded with flickering blue light.

The anger drained from Amy's face and body as her gaze move to the device. Her arms fell to her sides, her lips parted and she tilted her head quizzically, lost in the dazzling glow.

Billy stepped close and watched her. He loved her like this -- so quiet and malleable, her chest rising and falling with deep, measured breaths. The light gleamed like sapphires in her dark eyes, colored her olive skin and cast azure-tinted shadows above her cheekbones.

He reached up to her head and plucked out a solitary strand of hair. She flinched, but didn't move or make a sound.

He savored the silence for a moment.

"Look at me, Amy."

She blinked a few times, as though waking from a nap, then tore her gaze from the light and gave it to him.

"From now on, you'll do whatever I tell you to do."

"Wh -- what? No," she protested in a small, distant voice.

"Shhhh. You will. Not always, but whenever I say the magic word. You can't resist. When you hear the magic word, you'll be completely obedient to me."

She shook her head and frowned prettily. "No. I ... can't."

"Whenever I say the magic word, you'll obey me. No matter what I tell you to do."

"B-but ... I'll obey you?"

"Yes. You'll be obedient. Like a little trained dog."

"A trained dog ..." she whispered.

He nodded, grateful that he'd put in his filtered contact lenses in anticipation of the weekend.

"And the magic word is ..." He cast around the room for inspiration. Radio Flyer? Playstation? It had to be something he'd never normally say to his sister.

His mouth curled into a grin.

"Please," he said. "The magic word is 'please'. When I say it, you'll be completely obedient."

"Please," she said softly. "I'll be completely obedient."

* * *  
Billly met Kelly under the bleachers the next day. She was right on time, as usual, looking a little tired, but beautiful, her long red hair flowing straight and natural over her shoulders.

"Hi Billy," she said shyly. She reached into her book bag and pulled out a thick stack of papers. "I did your English essay too. I know it's not due until Wednesday, but I thought you'd want a chance to read it over."

"Good thinking, thanks." He accepted the proffered homework. "You look nice."

She smiled, then bit her lip and watched him anxiously as he leafed through the pages. "I think it's really good," she said. "I had the same assignment as a junior."

He scowled.

"B-but I did it completely different. I didn't just copy my old one. I don't even have it anymore."

Billy nodded. "Yeah, this looks good. But you really don't have my handwriting down. You should use your computer next time."

She nodded and stepped closer to him, more relaxed now. "You know Lori Fripp? She's been acting weird lately."

"I don't know her."

"She's the one with the tongue piercing? Anyway, I think she suspects something. She's asking people if they've seen us together."

"Yeah? What people?"

"People. Friends. And I keep running into her. I swear, I think she's following me sometimes."

Billy nodded thoughtfully. "I guess it's no big deal. She can't know anything." He slipped the homework into his bag. "But you should get to lunch. We don't want people to gossip."

"Wait." She smiled crookedly. "I bought something for you."

She looked around furtively, then moved her hands to her blouse, opened it button-by-button from the bottom and pulled it back, exposing her chest and navel.

Billy gulped. She was wearing a sexy black fishnet bra that lifted her firm breasts up higher, deepening her cleavage. Her pink nipples showed through.

"Do you like it?," she asked, her cocky grin revealing that she already knew the answer.

"Yeah," Billy croaked. He looked her up and down. He'd enslaved Kelly on a whim after she'd blundered into his bedroom at the wrong time. He thought she'd be a fun playmate when he wasn't with Jessica. But the more he got to know her, the more he found she had qualities he never knew he wanted: an earthy sexiness and confidence.

Then there was her body -- so tall and curvy. And green eyes that shined like jewels.

"Hey, my parents are gone until Tuesday," he said. "Why don't you come over tonight?"

"Really? Amy's okay with that? I mean, she wouldn't feel weird because I used to date Jason? Before ... you know."

"Before what?"

She shifted uncomfortably. "Before ... I was your slave."

Billy felt himself grow hard. "Nah, she won't mind. Not if I ask nice."

Kelly squealed with delight and threw her arms around his neck.

"I guess that's a date then," he laughed.

"It'll be so great to hang out with you," she said into his ear. She ran her fingers though his hair and rubbed her body against him. "God," she whispered. "I want you so much. I can't take my eyes off you." She kissed him, working her lips open and pushing her tongue into his mouth.

Billy slid his hands up and squeezed her tits through the new bra.

"Shit!," she yelled, pushing him away abruptly. Billy blinked in surprise: had something gone wrong? Did she somehow snap out of it? Then he saw she was looking past him at something else.

He turned and followed her gaze. There was a girl standing alone at the end of the bleachers, watching them. She was his height, with shoulder-length auburn hair in a stylish, choppy cut, and a killer body wrapped in a tight tee shirt and tighter jeans. Her pouty lips hung open in disbelief.

Kelly covered herself, and Billy just stared -- even caught like this, he couldn't escape how hot this girl was, and the stunned expression on her face was so much like the entranced look Kelly and Jessica had shared while under his machine's spell.

But then the girl's look of shock turned to obvious contempt -- even disgust. She snorted derisively, shook her head and stormed off.

"Lori Fripp," said Kelly, when she was gone.

And Billy knew he had a problem.

* * *  
Lori was still shaking her head as she stalked into the cafeteria, her brown eyes darting around for the best person to tell first. News like this had to be shared in just the right way.

She spotted Andrea -- a wispy blonde and Lori's best friend at the moment -- standing in line with some other cool girls. Lori raced over and pulled Andrea off to the side by her elbow.

"Hey, what's up?!'

"You're not going to believe this. It's so disgusting. The image is, like, burned into my cornea."

"Your retina," Andrea corrected. "It's burned into your retina. What is?"

"Kelly Johansson," she paused dramatically, "kissing and being felt-up by Billy Norton."

"Wow. That's big. Ummm, who's Billy Norton? Is he cute?"

Lori sighed impatiently. "Your remember Amy Norton? She's in college now? Billy is her little brother."

"Oh," said Andrea. Then, "Ohhhhh. I've seen him. Isn't he young, and, um, a little dorky?"

"A little dorky? He's like Dexter's Laboratory dorky. He's gross. He's a toad."

"What's he doing with Kelly?"

"I knew there was something going on. And when I saw her sneaking out to the bleachers before lunch I just had a feeling ..."

"Wait, you followed her?"

"Of course I followed her. This is perverted. She's sick or something. First she broke up with Jason and now --"

Andrea interrupted by clearing her throat. She raised her eyebrows and tilted her head to the door.

Kelly was there, looking flustered. She spotted them and began walking over.

"Well, you two have lots to talk about so, bye," Andrea said. She fled to safety of the cafeteria line as Kelly reached Lori.

"Lori, we have to talk."

Lori leaned back against the wall and crossed her arms. "So, talk."

"Billy has been through some bad stuff lately," Kelly said. "Family stuff. I can't go into it, but Amy -- Amy Norton, you remember? -- she asked me to do something to boost his confidence. We've been hanging out; she's really cool."

"Really?," Lori scoffed. "That's your story? Amy asked you to let her nerdy brother squeeze your tits as a confidence-builder?"

Kelly shook her head rapidly. "No. It went further than I intended. But it's not like what you think at all."

"I don't believe a word you're saying Kelly. You've never mentioned that you were friends with Amy. I don't know what's going on, but --"

"You don't have to believe me. Just ask Amy. She's having a party tonight. I'm invited, and now you are too." She grinned. "Lots of college boys."

"I don't need your help to meet college boys," Lori snapped. She pondered for a moment. Tim, her boyfriend, was pretty immature. "Is your lover-geek going to be there?"

"He's not my --" She sighed. "No. You and I will be the only ones from the high school. It's a college party."

"I don't know." The exclusivity was appealing. "I'm supposed to go out with Tim tonight."

"Forget Tim. I'll pick you up at eight and we'll go together. You'll talk to Amy, and if you still think I need professional help, I'll march into Principal Harrison's office on Monday, get on the PA system and announce that I'm Billy Norton's sex slave."

* * *  
Billy knocked on the bathroom door.

"I'm in here!," Amy yelled.

He opened it anyway. Amy was at the mirror, applying a coat of pink lip gloss. She was freshly showered, in bare feet and pajamas, flannel pants rolled up to her calves and cotton stuffed between her freshly-painted toes. "Get out of here, freak! I'm getting ready for Jason."

"Listen, Amy, I have a big favor to ask. Can you go out with Jason tonight, instead of bringing him here?"

"We've been through this. He's coming here; you're staying in your room with your comic books."

"It's just that I invited some friends over. Actually, I told them you were having a party, so I need you to answer the door at around eight and let them in, then go out and meet Jason."

She dropped her makeup in the sink and spun on him. "Are you crazy? You're using me to try and get friends? That's just sad. Forget it."

Billy sighed. "Ahh, c'mon. Pleeease."

Amy opened her mouth to let loose another barb ... but nothing came out. A confused look crossed her face and she crinkled her brow. She blinked at him.

"I -- I guess that's alright," she said in wane voice. "Okay Billy. Whatever you want."

"Thanks sis. You're the best." He closed the door and left her alone in the bathroom.

She stared at the door for a minute, then turned back to the mirror and picked up her eyeliner. That was weird. "Why did I do that?" she asked herself aloud. She shrugged and began applying the makeup. She still wanted to look good for Jason, even if she wasn't having him over.

* * *  
Principal Harrison found Kirsten in her office, behind her desk, lost in paperwork. She jumped a little when he walked in purposively, clutching a manila envelope in his hand.

"Oh! Hi Ed." She smiled apologetically and pulled her raven-black hair from her face. "Sorry, you scared me a little."

"Burning the midnight oil?"

"Yeah. Catching up on some reports for the board. You?"

He sat down. "We did a drug sweep through the lockers after the kids left."

She frowned.

"You disapprove?"

"I just think the student body has a right to privacy," she said. "It's one thing if you have reason to believe a particular student --"

He silenced her with a wave. Kirsten was naive -- and young. Sometimes she seemed more closely aligned with the students she counseled than with her peers. "I thought the same thing when I had your job," he lied. "But we have real problems here, and we do what we have to do keep them under control."

She smiled politely, but didn't seem convinced.

"Anyway, this problem is yours." He dropped the envelope on her desk. "We found them hanging in one of the lockers."

She picked it up gingerly, opened the flap and shook out the contents: two photo strips, the kind you get at a coin-op booth for $1.25, with different girls pictured in each and handwritten notes scrawled across them.

"Oh wow," she said.

"The blonde is Jessica Ellison. She attended here a couple years ago. She's at the university now. The other one, the one less than fully clothed --"

"Kelly Johansson," she interrupted. She shook her head slowly. "These girls just can't wait to grow up. Whose locker was it?"

"Billy Norton's"

She laughed, then stopped when she saw he was serious.

"Billy Norton? Are you sure? That doesn't seem very likely."

"I know. But they were in his locker." He leaned over. "Listen Kirsten, I want you to handle this. If I do it, it'll look like a bigger deal than it is. Talk to Johansson, talk to Norton, then inform their parents.

"The note on Johansson's picture is particularly troubling," he continued. "I don't know if it's some juvenile sex game, or what. But this has to be handled right. Show some due diligence, so we don't have liability, then make it go away."

"I don't know." She stared at the photos. "This looks like some form of sexual harassment. It could even be a crime."

"It's not a crime!," he said, louder than he intended. "Just deal with it. We'll suspend Norton, if you think it's necessary. But we're not going to involve the school board or the state, and certainly not law enforcement. We have to think of the victims' privacy."

"The victims' privacy?," she repeated skeptically.

"I won't have this school's reputation --"

"Ahh." She smiled knowingly; infuriatingly.

He looked her up and down. She was an extraordinary beautiful woman, long dark hair that bounced and shined, framing a face with creamy skin, intelligent hazel eyes and a movie star's lips.

He'd thought of her often, since hiring her to fill his old post as guidance counselor. The rumor was she left her last school over an affair she'd had with a married teacher, and he'd fantasized about taking over that role. But she had an attitude. She seemed to think she was better than him.

"Just take care of it," he growled. He turned his back and left.

---

Chapter Two

"It looks pretty dark for a party," Lori said as they approached the front door. There was music coming from within, but none of the other signs of a big college bash: no lights, no cars crammed into the driveway.

"It's a little early still," said Kelly. "It'll pick up." She rang the doorbell.

When the door opened, Lori recognized the girl on the other side, though there was no sign that the feeling was mutual. "Hey guys," Amy said. "C'mon in. The 'big party' is in the family room in back." Was that sarcasm in her voice?

"Thanks Amy," Kelly said brightly. They walked into the dim house. Amy closed the door and pointed the way. "Straight through the living room. Go on ahead. I'll be right there. You both look great, by the way."

They smiled and made their way past the stairs and back to the family room. It was dimly lit and empty. The music was blaring from a stereo against one wall, and there was an odd jumble of electronics in a toy wagon on the carpeted floor.

Lori heard the door slam shut again at the front of the house. "What is this?," she demanded of Kelly.

"Hi girls!" A skinny boy walked in from the kitchen. Billy Norton. He pointed a remote at the stereo and silenced the music.

"Oh, you skanky bitch!" Lori cursed. "I gave up a date with Tim for some sort of stupid joke with your little boyfriend?"

Before Kelly could answer, Billy crouched down to the toy wagon, and flipped a switch.

* * *  
Billy worked his locker combination, pleasantly sore and tired after a weekend of play: he'd sent Amy away again on Saturday, and spent the day at home with Jessica. Eventually, he thought, he'd have to bring Jessica and Kelly together, and let them serve him in tandem. Maybe Lori, too, now that she had a new opinion of him

He pulled open the locker door, grabbed his books -- and paused. Something was missing ...

The pictures.

He slammed the door and glanced around guiltily. The students milling about the hall didn't spare him a look, and he realized, a little embarrassed, that there was no longer anything to hide in the locker.

He reopened it and conducted a frantic search. Nothing. They were gone.

"Uh oh, someone lost their stash," came a relaxed voice behind him.

It was Jacob Wiley, the school stoner. "What do you mean?"

"Harrison's Gestapo ransacked all the lockers looking for dope on Friday," Jacob said. "Heh. They didn't check for hollowed-out textbooks." He smiled slyly and moved easily down the hall.

Billy could hear his heart pounding against his ear drums. He felt shaky.

He closed the locker.

* * *  
Andrea waited for Lori outside the computer lab. It was a tradition, of sorts -- every Monday morning they'd sit with the school's aging PCs and pretend to work, while gossiping about the events of the weekend, using instant messaging for the stuff too juicy to say aloud. Lori had never been late before.

Lori finally emerged from the swell of students passing in the hall. "Hey Andrea!"

"There you are. Long weekend?"

"Nah. I didn't feel like hanging out with Tim, so I mostly stayed home and watched TV," she said. "Not much to report. You?"

"What about Amy Norton's big party on Friday? Did you solve the riddle of the mysterious Billy-Kelly feel-up?"

A strange look crossed her face. "Um, I have a confession to make about that. I made that whole thing up."

"What? Why?"

"I ... guess I was hoping that if I started a rumor like that, I might get Billy's attention." She blushed.

"Billy's attention? What are you talking about?"

"He's just so handsome," she gushed. "I have the biggest crush on him."

"Bullshit."

"I know you don't see it -- nobody sees him the way I do. But he's so ... I don't know ... Dreamy."

"Dreamy? He's 'dreamy'? Now I know you're putting me on."

Lori's gaze moved to a distant space above Andrea's head. "Those heavenly eyes ..." She hugged herself as though imaging skinny geek arms embracing her, and broke into a wistful smile. "I would just die if he asked me out."

Andrea felt a chill crawl up her spine. "Lori, you're fucking Tim. The quarterback. Remember? Billy Norton's a little boy. You called him a toad, remember?"

Lori just sighed.

As if on cue, Norton rounded the corner in the hall, racing past them with a panicked look on his face.

Lori brightened instantly, straightened her body and preened her hair. "Hi Billy!" she said, with too much enthusiasm.

He stopped and glared at her impatiently. "Have you seen Kelly today?"

Lori pouted, crestfallen. "I saw them pull her out of class to see Ms. Hewitt. I don't know why."

He turned around and headed in the direction of the administrative offices. Lori followed him with her eyes, her head tilted to the side, her face a caricature of longing and unrequited love.

She sighed again. "Sooo dreeeaammy."

* * *  
Kelly was coming out of the front office as Billy reached it. She gave him a meaningful look, and led him outside to the bike racks.

"What happened?," he asked, once they were alone.

"They found my picture in your locker." She looked shaken. "Billy, she's going to call my parents. What should I do?"

"What did you tell her?"

"I -- I said I took the pictures for Jason, and he probably threw them away when we broke up. I tried to give her the idea that you found them, or he gave them to you or something."

Billy relaxed a little. She was quick on her feet. "That's good," he said. "That's really good. We can make that work."

"He's just going to deny it. God, my parents are going to be so pissed. They won't understand. I don't even understand. What did you do to me? Why is this happening?"

"Just stick to your story. It'll all work out." He touched her cheek. She closed her eyes and leaned into his hand gratefully, then kissed his fingers and his palm.

"Billy," she moaned. "I can't help it. I'd do anything for you."

"I know. You're a good girl."

"I'm a good girl," she repeated softly.

* * *  
"Do you know why you're here?," Ms. Hewitt asked.

"Umm, yeah. I think you found some pictures in my locker. Can I have them back?" He grinned.

"This isn't a joke, Billy. Those pictures of Kelly ... Just having them puts you in serious violation of our student code of conduct. You could be suspended over this. And that's not even getting into how you got the photos, and what's written on them."

He sunk in the chair. "I know. I'm sorry."

"How did you get them?"

"I found them in the garbage in the bathroom. I didn't think there was anything wrong with taking them."

"And the ones of Jessica? That must be some garbage can."

He swallowed. She stared at him with large, bottomless eyes that seemed to drill into his soul -- like she could see right through him.

He'd never seen her in this disciplinarian role before. Since she started as guidance counselor, Hewitt had been everybody's favorite adult at the school -- especially the guys. Billy himself had come seeking "guidance" just to sit in this chair and lose himself in those eyes, bathe in the soft sympathy of her voice and the music of her laughter -- and sneak furtive glances at her large, buoyant breasts.

Now he'd rather be anywhere else.

"Well?," she prompted.

"Yeah, same garbage can. They were stuck together."

She shook her head in apparent disappointment. "I have some more interviews to do. But for now, I'm sending you home for the rest of the day.

"I want you to think about being honest with me, Billy," she offered, in a voice so soft and sincere that for a moment, Billy was tempted to tell her everything. "Otherwise, I'm afraid this is going to get a lot worse before it gets better."

* * *  
"What's that thing?" Jason asked.

"My brother's stupid electronics project," said Amy. "He asked if he could put it in here while he cleaned his room. I don't know why I said yes."

"Can you get rid of it? It's freaking me out a little for some reason."

She shook her head. "Maybe I can take your mind off it." She smiled playfully, reached to the bottom of her tee-shirt and pulled it cross-armed over her head.

Jason smiled appreciatively at her bare breasts, then moved in and kissed her. They made out for a minute, then fell back onto her bed, where he rolled on top of her prone body. She spread her jeans-clad legs and he grinded against her as they kissed. Amy threw her arms around his neck and moaned softly.

Billy walked in.

Amy let out a shriek, dumped Jason onto the floor and sat up, covering her breasts with her naked arms. "What the hell's wrong with you, dork! Don't you knock?!"

Jason jumped to his feet, looking pissed. Before things could go any further, Billy made a bee-line to the red wagon and flipped the switch on the device.

The room filled with the dazzling blue light. Jason blinked and his expression relaxed.

Amy's arms fell limp at her sides.

Billy gawked as the light played over his sister's face, her naked torso and breasts. He'd had no idea what a great body she had. Her tits were modestly-sized, but beautifully rounded. Her stomach was flat, and her skin was as smooth and flawless below the neck as above -- the color of some creamy desert with a sprinkle of cinnamon. Were she liquid, she'd taste like a tall Frappuccino.

Amy stared complacently into the light. Billy swallowed. He was here for a reason, and it had nothing to do with his sister. But he moved slowly to the bed anyway and sat cross-legged next to her. She paid no notice.

"Amy," he croaked. "Look at me."

Without argument, she reoriented her body towards him. Her lips were parted, and her eyes distant and blank.

"Touch your tits."

She squinted and frowned, but didn't move.

"Please."

Her frown deepened, but her hands rose from the mattress and floated to her breasts. She played her fingers over them lightly, grazing one nipple with her pinky, before returning her hands to the bed.

Billy's eyes flicked to Jason, who was still lost in the blue light. In a moment of clarity, Billy realized why he enjoyed this. Any guy who was good looking enough had a shot at a girl like Jessica -- or Kelly, for that matter. But how many could get their own sister to do this?

"Amy, listen carefully. You want me to touch you. You desire me desperately. Your whole body aches for me."

Her mouth opened wider, as if in shock. She tilted her head and shook it. "Nooo," she protested distantly.

"Yes. As much as you want Jason, you desire me ten times more. You're burning for me. On fire."

Her breathing grew deeper, her breasts rising higher with each shaky draw of air. She focused her eyes on his. "But you -- you're my brother," she whispered.

"You don't care. You want me. You need me."

"I -- I want you." She reached out with her toned arms and leaned towards him. "Oh, God, Billy. I need you." He felt her soft breath on his face as she spoke.

"Squeeze your breasts."

She touched his face instead, her fingertips warm and trembling, while she slid closer on the bed, her lips parted.

"You want to touch your tits for me. I'm making you so hot, you need to touch yourself."

She seemed confused, but her hands found her breasts again, and she started squeezing them. Her nipples were hard. Her breathing became panting and her eyes fluttered and rolled back in her head.

Amy's hands moved beyond her breasts to play over her flushed face and her stomach. She hooked her lower lip with her fingers, then moved her hands down to her tits again, lifting them, kneading them. "Ohhh, Billyyyy," she moaned to herself.

Billy got off the bed and stood next to Jason. The older boy towered over him, his hands were curled into fists, even as his eyes stayed glued to the blue light.

"Poor Jason. It seems like I steal all your girlfriends."

Jason grinded his teeth.

Amy was in her own world. She stretched out and arched her back, and with both hands released the top button of her jeans. Then the one below it. She returned one hand to her tits and slid the other into her pants, letting out a gasp.

"Oh, ohhhh," she groaned, her hand moving in circles between her legs. "Ohhhh, Goddd. Billy. I want you. Ohhhh." Her face broke into a sweat as she writhed and squirmed on the mattress.

"Don't worry Jason. I'll put her back to normal. But first we have to talk about what you did to Kelly."

Jason's face darkened with confusion, while on the bed Amy let out an orgasmic scream and called her brother's name.

---

Chapter Three

Kirsten waited quietly while Principal Harrison finished a phone call, half suspecting there was no one on the other end of the line. It wasn't far fetched to think he'd make her wait just to show her who's boss.

He finally hung up, and regarded her questioningly. "Anything new with the Norton matter?"

"That's why I'm here. Jason came back this morning and admitted he got Kelly to take that strip of photos, and to write the note. He says it was just a game, and he threw them out in bathroom garbage when they broke up."

"I thought he denied it yesterday."

She bit her lip and nodded thoughtfully. "He did. Quite convincingly. It's odd. But now he's reversed himself. He says the other ones were his too, and that he and Jessica briefly dated."

"First I've heard of it." He sighed in relief. "I guess that wraps things up though. Are you notifying the parents?"

"I'll have to think about that," she said. "Probably not. There was apparently no coercion involved, and I can't be an effective counselor if I'm running to the parents every time a student acts out sexually."

"That's fine. Thanks for handling this Kirsten."

She could almost feel his lecherous eyes on her ass as she left his office. As she passed the front desk, a girl jumped up from a seat in the waiting area and ran up to her. "Ms. Hewitt?"

The student was a pale blonde with downy hair and earnest blue eyes. "Yes?," said Kirsten. " I'm sorry, your name ...?"

"Andrea. I heard Billy Norton was in trouble -- for some pictures of Kelly or something."

"There was ... a controversy," Kirsten said diplomatically. "But another student has come forward to take responsibility, so Billy's off the hook, if that's what you're worried about."

"No!," Andrea practically shouted. "Ms. Hewitt, there's something going on here. Something's not right."

Kirsten raised a questioning eyebrow, and Andrea calmed herself before continuing. "My friend Lori -- Lori Fripp -- saw Billy and Kelly messing around last week. Then on Friday she went over to his house for a party. Now she's totally different."

"I saw Lori yesterday. She seemed fine."

She shook her head. "No, she's not. She's suddenly, like, in love with Billy or something. She's talking about him all the time, and she's saying weird things."

There was something compelling in the girl's tone, Kirsten thought. She wasn't making this up.

"Come into my office. Let's talk."

* * *  
"You wanted to see me, Ms. Hewitt?"

"Yes. Thanks for coming, Lori. Please come in." Kirsten put a reassuring hand on Lori's shoulder and guided her into the office.

Lori tensed up when she saw Dr. Stringer waiting inside. The doctor had that effect on people. A tall, icy blonde who kept her hair pulled back severely, and regarded the world through glasses with small, square lenses. She could play the shapely-but-unapproachable woman scientist in a 1950s space opera.

"Lori, this is Dr. Kathy Stringer. She's a specialist in sexual abuse cases."

"Hi Lori," Stringer said with a slight smile.

"Sexual abuse? What's this about?"

"Some of your friends have been worried about you lately, Lori," Kirsten said. "I just thought we'd talk."

"Worried about me? It's Andrea, isn't it? God, she's such a gossip. Why can't she --"

"Lori, please sit down. We just want to ask you a few questions. See how you're doing."

Lori ran a hand through her choppy hair, then plopped in the seat petulantly. "Do you want me to lie down on the couch?," she quipped.

Both adults smiled. "Lori, did you go to a party at Amy Norton's on Friday?," Kirsten asked.

"Yes. Why?"

"I want you to be honest with me. Did you take any drugs there?"

"Drugs? No! Is that what Andrea said? She wasn't even there!"

"Relax. Nobody said you did. I was just wondering." She changed tack. "Was Billy Norton there?"

Something shifted in Lori at the mention of the name. She tilted her head and got a far away look in her eyes. "Billy ..." she said dreamily. "No. He wasn't there."

Dr. Stringer made a note on her pad and looked up. "Lori, who exactly was there?"

"I don't know. A bunch of college kids. We hung out."

"Anyone interesting? Anyone you talked to for a while?"

Lori frowned and furrowed her brow. "I -- I guess so. I don't really remember all that well."

"Any cute guys? You'd remember that, right?"

"Yeah ..." She seemed to concentrate. "I mean, no. Nobody that stood out."

"Do you remember how many people were there? What kind of music was playing? Was there any food?"

"Stop it! Why are you asking about the stupid party?"

Kirsten and Stringer exchanged looks. Stringer put down her notepad. "Lori, I'd like to try something, if it's alright with you."

* * *  
"So, you're not going to make me cluck like a chicken or anything?," Lori said.

"No. Like I said, it doesn't work that way." Dr. Stringer turned off the light and walked to the window, where she lowered the shades, leaving the slats open enough to admit a muted sunlight. "I can't make you do anything. It's more of a memory aid, and it only works if you cooperate."

"Okay." Lori sighed. "I'm cooperating."

Kirsten half-rose from her chair. "Should I -- ?"

"No, you can stay," said Stringer. "Just remain quiet, please." The doctor took a tape recorder from her bag, pressed the record button and placed in on the desk near Lori. "Are you comfortable?"

Lori shifted her body in the seat and folded her hands on her lap. "Yes."

Stringer produced a penlight, clicked it on and held it up to Lori's face. "I want you to watch the light, Lori. Follow it with your eyes."

Lori wore a bemused expression, but her eyes focused on the penlight.

Stringer moved it slowly to the left. Lori's eyes tracked it, stayed with it as it moved back to the right.

"That's good. Keep watching the light." She moved it to the left, to the right, again and again, Lori's bright eyes moving with it. "There's nothing else, just the light. Just you and the light, moving back and forth, taking you down, deep down, to your most relaxing, peaceful place. Just you and the light."

Kirsten watched as Lori's eyes became metronomes, following the tip of the penlight, back and forth. The girl's breathing relaxed and deepened, and the skeptical set of her mouth loosened. The penlight glowed in her eyes, moving back and forth, back and forth, back and forth ...

Whoa! Kirsten shook her head, rousing herself. She'd almost fallen under just by watching.

"Just you and the light," Stringer said, in a voice more soothing than her demeanor suggested she was capable of. "Back and forth, deeper and deeper."

Lori mouthed the words ... "back and forth ..."

"I want you to keep your eyes open, no matter how heavy they feel. Even though it feels like weights are attached to your eyelids, keep them open. Fight the urge to close your eyes, though it would feel so good to let them close."

The light moved back and forth over Lori's eyes.

"Even as your eyelids grow heavier and heavier, keep them open." Stringer moved the penlight up to the level of Lori's smooth forehead, still moving it back and forth. Lori's eyelids began to flutter. "They're so heavy now, aren't they. You're fighting to keep them open."

" yes ... so heavy "

"It would feel so good to close your eyes, as the light moves back and forth, back and forth."

" back and forth," Lori breathed.

"Now, let them close."

Lori let out a sigh as her eyes fluttered shut.

"Gooood," said Singer. "Now I'm going to take you back, Lori. Back to Friday night. You're going to a party, aren't you?"

"Yes," Lori responded dreamily. "I'm going to a party at Amy Norton's. Kelly is with me."

"What's happening at the party, Lori?"

She tilted her head thoughtfully. "Amy is letting us in. She says we look nice." She smiled. "We're going to the back. There's music playing."

"Who's there? Who's at the party?"

Lori frowned. "I don't know. I don't see anybody. We're following the music." She paused. "It -- it's just Billy. Billy Norton is there. He wasn't supposed to be. There's nobody else."

"What's he doing? Is he saying anything?"

"He -- he's turning something on. Some kind of machine. It's in a red wagon. There's a light, a blue light. Ohhhh," she sighed. "It's so beautiful. It's so bright. It's everywhere. Everything is covered in blue.

"I'm trying to look away, but I can't."

Stringer frowned thoughtfully and made a note on her pad.

"I ..." Lori trailed off. "Billy is talking to me now." She cocked her head as though listening to a distant voice. "He says he wants to see my tongue piercing. He's never seen one before." She grinned. "I'm sticking my tongue out at him. He's such a little toad."

Lori's smile dissolved. "Wait. He -- he's telling me to kiss him. He says he wants to feel what it's like -- with my piercing. He's so gross. But his voice is, like, echoing in my head.

"I -- I'm doing it," she said, astonishment in her voice. "I'm kissing him. I'm kissing his little frog lips. I can't stop myself. I'm making out with him now. I'm moving my t-tongue around in his mouth, so he can feel the stud. I don't know why." She started wringing her hands on her lap. "I can't stop. I can't think."

Kirsten felt the blood drain from her face. She looked to Stringer, who seemed shaken, but the doctor steeled herself visibly and made another note. "It's okay, Lori. It's just a memory. Nothing can hurt you here."

"Oh, no no no," Lori said, a tremor creeping into her voice. "Now he's telling me -- he's telling me to undress. I won't," said firmly. "I won't do it.

"Now he's saying I want to undress. He says I want to be naked for him, and I -- I want to fuck him." She wrinkled her nose. "He says I want to fuck his brains out. He's so disgusting. B-but, he's right. I do. I do want to fuck him. I want to be naked for him.

"I can't help myself. I'm taking off my top. My -- my skirt. My, oh, my underwear. It's so cold. Kelly's just standing there.

"I want to fuck you. I want to fuck your brains out. I've never said that anyone before, but it's true. I want to fuck his brains out."

She lapsed into silence.

"What's happening now, Lori."

"Shhhh. He's talking to me again. He has a magazine -- no, a comic book. He's reading from a comic book.

"Oh, God!" She rose halfway from her seat, then collapsed back into it. "He -- he's making me ... he's making me ..."

"What? What's he making you do, Lori?"

"He's making me love him."

Stringer put down the pad.

"He's making me fall in love with him. He's reading from a comic book. He's changing my feelings, from a c-comic book." Tears squeezed out of her closed eyes. "Tim. I can't fight it. I'm trying, but I can't.

"Don't ..." She scrunched her face and shook her head. "Don't," she whispered.

Abruptly, she fell silent, and a small sigh escaped her lips. Stringer and Kirsten watched, waited, then Stringer broke the silence.

"What now, Lori?"

She smiled. "Billyyyy," she breathed. "I love you, Billy."

The girl's eyes opened, focused on something in the air visible only to her. Her arms rose to her chest, hands clasped and fingers entwined as if in prayer. "Ohhh, Billy," she moaned. "I'm so in love with you. I'd do anything for you. You're so dreeeammy."

* * *  
Kirsten hung up the phone and returned to her office, where Dr. Stringer was just stepping out the door. She closed it quietly behind her, pulled her glasses off and pinched the bridge of her nose, eyes shut. "Is there someplace I can get some water?"

"Yeah, follow me." She led Stringer across the front office. "Are you, um, done in there?"

Stringer shook her head tightly. "No, but I'm making progress. She still thinks she's in love with him, but she's stopped calling him 'dreamy.'"

"Is it normally this hard to deprogram someone?"

"Deprogram? That's not the right word. But whatever he did to her, it's far more than hypnosis. I don't know what it is, but it's a real bitch to clean up after."

"He seemed so harmless," Kirsten said, half to herself.

"They always do. Did you call the police?"

"Yeah, I spoke with a detective. He's on his way."

"Good. When I'm done with Lori, we're going to want to see Kelly Johansson in here, and I want the police in the room."

Kirsten drew a cup of water from the cooler and handed it to Stringer. The doctor downed it in a gulp and passed the empty cup back for more.

"Are you going to bring your principal in?," Stringer asked.

Kirsten pondered that for a moment. "No, that wouldn't be very helpful at this stage." She changed the subject. "The detective said we might need her testimony. Is she going to remember?"

"Yes," the doctor said sorrowfully. "She'll remember."

* * *  
Billy paced beneath the bleachers, peering out beneath the seats for some sign of Kelly.

He checked his watch again: thirty minutes late. She never missed a meeting. He pulled out his phone and speed-dialed her cell. It went right to voice mail. He hung up without leaving a message.

He'd wait ten more minutes, then give up. There were any number of reasons why she might not have made it -- at home sick, cornered by friends and unable to make a graceful exit.

But he couldn't shake the feeling that something had gone terribly wrong.

* * *  
Kelly exited the office, shaky and pale. Kirsten followed behind her.

"Are you okay, Kelly?"

"Not really. I still can't believe it. It's like waking up from a nightmare." She shook her head. "What happens now?"

"You should go home. We'll take care of Billy."

"Be careful, Ms. Hewitt." Kelly touched Kirsten's arm and bored into her with her emerald eyes. "Don't let him get you near that machine. I'm serious. He's very sneaky."

"Don't worry. He's not going to be using that thing on anyone else, ever again."

Kelly didn't seem reassured. "Just ... be careful. Please." She looked Kirsten up and down, as though trying to see her though Billy's eyes. "He'll have you begging for him," she said in a hush. "Do you understand? It might seem impossible now, but he'll make you beg. You won't be able to help it. You'll want to do it."

Kirsten nodded solemnly. Kelly slung her book bag over her shoulder and exited to the hall.

Dr. Stringer came out of the office, trailed by Detective Phillips, a tired looking man in a rumpled jacket. The detective was shaking his head.

"Damnedest thing I've ever heard," he said. "Where's this Norton kid now?"

"He'll be in class for another hour. School lets out at 3:00."

"Okay. I'm going to phone in an affidavit. We'll have a search warrant by the time he gets out. Doctor, you'll come with me to help identify anything that may have evidentiary value.

"I'm also calling in a uniform," he continued. "I want our little Svengali in handcuffs before we go anywhere near that house."

---

Chapter Four

Billy slogged through the rest of the school day fighting a growing sense of unease; he couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. When he passed through the school's double doors into the parking lot, he got confirmation in black and white.

A police car was sprawled arrogantly across two teacher's spots in the corner. A uniformed policewoman, a fit 20-something blonde in a ponytail, stood near the car. Leaning on the hood was grim looking man in an ill-fitting jacket -- presumably another cop. They were talking to Ms. Hewitt and another woman he'd never seen before.

Then Hewitt spotted Billy coming out the door. She said something to the others and pointed at him.

He turned and shuffled quickly back into the school, as Hewitt called after him in an uncharacteristically stern voice, "Billy!"

Billy barreled down the hall, nearly knocking over a group of students leaving for the day. He made a right, sped past a row of anonymous classroom doors and ducked into a bathroom. The door closed agonizingly slow as he fished out his cell phone and speed-dialed Kelly. Maybe she'd answer this time.

"Hello?"

"Kelly? It's me. Something's happening. Have you --"

"You bastard," she screamed through the phone. "You little fucking monster!"

"What --?"

"I remember, Billy. I remember everything. What you did to me. To Jason. To Jessica. All of it. I remember, and I told them everything."

He breathed into the phone anxiously -- at a loss. He could hear a police walky-talky crackle in the hall outside.

"I thought you were just a geek, but you're not. You're a monster. God, the things you made me do to you; to myself ..."

"You -- you wanted to do them," he said lamely.

"You made me want to do them!" He heard her take a calming breath. "You're going to prison, Billy," she said levelly. "They're going to take your little toy away, and put you in prison, and if there's any justice some 400-pound inmate will make you into a sex slave.

"Oh, and when you get out, my brother's going to break you in two, you sick little fucker." She hung up.

Billy stared at the phone for a moment. What now? He made another call.

* * *  
The four adults moved quickly down the hall, checking classrooms as they passed. Detective Phillips found a janitorial closet locked, and gestured to Kirsten. She fished through her keys, unlocked the door, and the two cops vanished inside. They returned seconds later empty handed.

"Billy!," Phillips yelled. "You're only making it harder on yourself!" They listened in vain for a reply.

The blonde officer nodded towards another door. "Men's room," she said. Philips followed her. They stormed into the bathroom, leaving Kirsten and Stringer in the hall.

The police emerged from the bathroom, again without their prey. Phillips pointed to the door across the hall. The ladies room.

* * *  
"I really need you do this," Billy said quietly into the phone, his voice shaking. He knew he sounded desperate, but he could hear the police radio echoing outside, getting louder. Then came a clamor of footsteps closing in on the bathroom. "Just do it. Please. Just do it."

The bathroom door swung open. Billy jumped into a stall, pulling the door behind and stuffing the phone in his sock. The door was wrenched from his hands and crashed into the metal wall.

A man's hands grabbed Billy roughly, spinning him out of the stall. "Hey, Billy," the detective smiled predatorily. "Taking a shit in the little girl's room?"

"Wh -- what'd I do?"

"Cuff him," the detective said to the woman in uniform. "He think he's Houdini, so make sure they're tight."

The uniformed cop pushed him against the wall and bent his left arm behind his back. The cuff ratcheted over his wrist, biting into his flesh. The other hand followed.

"Do you have knives or needles?," she asked.

"What? No!"

She patted him down brusquely, pulling his keys and some change from his jeans pocket. Then she grabbed him by a thin bicep and guided him, off balance, out into the hall.

Hewitt was there, along with the bespeckled blonde woman from the parking lot. The four of them walked him in silence back to the parking lot, ignoring his protests of innocence. The blonde cop put him in the back of the cruiser and slammed the door.

* * *  
The streets of Billy's town looked different from the back of a cop car -- completely familiar, but distant and preserved, like a museum exhibit behind a velvet rope. The feeling grew all the more eerie as the car turned onto his block, green and dewy with the approach of spring.

They were following the detective in his unmarked car. Bill looked out the back window: the blonde with the glasses was following them in her SUV. Hewitt had stayed behind.

The caravan arrived at his house, the cruiser pulling into the driveway and the other cars finding spots on the street. The blonde cop got out. Car doors opened and closed and the detective was suddenly in the front of the black-and-white, giving Billy a hard look through the steel mesh.

"You want to save us some trouble and tell me where it is?"

"Where what is?"

He shook his head. "The judge is just going to love you." He started to get out.

"Okay, okay," Billy said. "But it's hard to describe. Bring me in and I'll show you."

The cop smiled mirthlessly. "That's a great idea! Yeah, I'm going to do that. Because I'm a complete idiot and I want to reunite the little mad scientist with his mind control machine so he can make me think I'm Baryshnikov and send me off to join the Russian ballet."

He stepped out of the car and slammed the door contemptuously. Billy watched the three of them march to the front door of his house, the detective fingering the keys they'd confiscated from him. After a moment, they disappeared inside.

Just as Billy was wondering how things could possibly get worse, a blue minivan pulled in from the street. His parents, back from vacation.

They jumped out and rushed over -- his mom's face a mask of concern, his dad's one of anger. They yelled chaotically through the glass: What's going on? What did you do? Billy shrugged and shook his head to indicate that he couldn't hear them. His parents walked quickly to the front door.

* * *  
Dr. Stringer watched the police work as they tossed Billy Norton's room with military efficiency, flipping over his mattress, pulling his sci-fi books from his shelves onto the floor, upending his drawers and dumping the contents to the carpet.

Something caught her eye. She stepped to the unmade bed and pulled a bundle of magazines from under it. Stringer leafed through the yellowing science journals, then handed them to the detective. "You'll want these," she said.

He gave them a cursory examination, grunted and dropped them into a transparent evidence bag. "Great, but where's the hardware?"

She shrugged.

"Alright, let's do the rest of the house." He led Stringer and the blonde cop into the hall ...

Only to find someone waiting for them. A girl, with dark hair and caramel skin, wearing odd-looking colored glasses and pulling a toy red wagon by its handle.

"I don't know why I'm doing this," Amy said, before reaching down and flipping the switch.

* * *  
Billy watched the silent house from the back of the police car for what seemed an eternity. Finally, his cell phone rang. He maneuvered his cuffed hands and worried the phone out of his sock, flipped it open, moved it awkwardly to his ear and pinned it with his shoulder.

"Hello?"

"It's Amy. I did it. They're all, like, frozen. They're just staring at the light."

"Good. Listen --"

"Wait, someone's coming up." A pause. "It -- it's mom and dad. Now they're staring at the light too. Billy, what's going on? What is it doing to them?"

"Nothing. Just --"

"I don't like this. Why did you make me put on these stupid glasses? I'm taking them off."

"No! Please don't."

"Why? Where are you?"

"I'm outside."

A rustling sound through the phone, then Amy appeared at an upstairs window. "You're in the police car? What did you do?"

"Don't worry about that. I need you to go to the cop, the blonde one. Tell her it's all been a terrible mistake, and she has to come down and uncuff me and bring me upstairs."

"But, she's, like, asleep. They all are."

"Just do it, please. You may have to tell her more than once. Just keep telling her until she does it. Please."

There was a long pause, then, "Okay. Hold on."

Amy set the phone down and walked back into the hall. They were all there, absorbed in the flickering blue light like children at a matinee. She squeezed past the man in the coat and approached the blonde cop, whose head was tilted thoughtfully, mouth slack.

"You've, um, made a terrible mistake. Billy is innocent. You have to go down and release him, then bring him up here."

The blonde blinked at the light a couple of times. "A ... mistake?"

Amy started -- she speaks! She cleared her throat. "Yes, a terrible mistake. You have to uncuff Billy and bring him back here. And, um, apologize to him. For the mistake."

"A mistake," she murmured. "A terrible mistake." Like a sleepwalker, she straightened and moved slowly down the hall, her arms limp at her sides, past the red wagon and towards the stairs.

* * *  
Billy began sweating. What was taking so long? Then the front door opened, and the cop with the ponytail walked out in a daze. She came down to the car, put her keys in the back door and pulled it open.

She looked down at him, her stormy blue eyes showing puzzlement. "I -- I'm sorry. There's been a terrible mistake. Let me see your hands."

He turned his back and scooted towards her. There was a clinking of keys, and the cuffs fell away from his left wrist, then his right.

"Come with me," she said softly.

Billy rubbed his sore wrists as she walked him back into the house and up the stairs. At the top, the cop caught sight of the machine and fell motionless, like her battery had run out.

Amy was in the hall, standing next to the one in the glasses, lifting the blonde's arm up by a finger experimentally, then letting it fall limp to her side. "This is just too weird, Billy. How did you --"

Billy pulled off her glasses. A small sigh escaped Amy's lips as she surrendered her gaze to the device.

He walked the length of the hall, crowded eerily with living, breathing statues. He took a headcount: six people. He'd never had so many under the influence of his invention before. He felt strangely alone.

He'd have to pare them down. He started with his parents, easily persuading them to forget the scene at the police car and subsequent events, go to their bedroom and take a long, sound nap after their exhausting trip.

He made Amy forget everything surrounding the device and the torrent of visitors, then sent her off to the movies. The detective took longer. "A ... hoax?," he asked, dubious even while mesmerized.

"Yes. A stupid student hoax. Not even worth filing a report. Nobody will ever convince you otherwise."

After about twenty minutes the detective was convinced, and he left the house.

Only the two blondes remained: the cop, and the mysterious woman in glasses. He pulled the red wagon into his bedroom, guided them both in after and closed the door.

It was a mess. Books, magazines, comics, junk everywhere. He shook his head -- what would his parents think? He glared resentfully at the blonde cop.

She was surprisingly cute for an adult, and a police officer. If she put on a little makeup and let her hair down ... But there was no time for that. Too much was unraveling in his world.

Billy stepped behind her and rested his chin on her shoulder, her blonde hair tickling his cheek, his erection pressing against her ass. He placed his hands around her narrow waist, above her belt and holster.

"Any knives or needles?," he whispered with a giggle.

"Wh -- what?," she murmured.

He cleared his throat. "You feel terrible about arresting me and ransacking my room."

"Yes ..." the girlcop murmured. "Terrible."

"You want to make things right, no matter what it takes," he whispered in her ear.

She nodded, her ponytail bobbing up and down.

"Open your shirt for me."

With shifting her gaze, her hands floated to her chest and her fingers started nimbly unbuttoning the uniform blouse: one, two, three ... seven buttons. She was wearing a plain white bra underneath.

Billy let his hands play over her warm skin and settle on her breasts. He fondled his first adult tits through the bra. He thought of Ms. Hewitt, her curvaceous form and gently accusing eyes. How he wished she had come with them. He'd fill those eyes with lust for him. Make her cry out for him, and spread those long, shapely legs for his pleasure.

"You need to put my room back the way it was. Quickly."

She nodded again. He let her slip from his embrace, and she promptly walked over to a pile of books next to an empty shelve. He watched her ass as she bent to pick them up, her blouse hanging open, then he turned his attention to the other woman. Her face was a blank, and the blue light flickered in her square glasses.

"So," he grinned. "What's your story?"

* * *  
The wheels of the little red wagon let out a repetitive, annoying squeak as Dr. Stringer rolled it out of the elevator onto the eighth floor. Just like a teenager, she thought. Smart enough to build a mind control machine, but too dumb to think of buying a little WD-40.

Of course, he would be needing neither in the Juvenile Hall lockup. She summoned a vision of Norton in the police car, then the hypnotherapy sessions with Kelly and Lori, and allowed herself a rare, unprofessional thought: She hoped that Billy Norton was having a very bad night.

Stringer found the unit number and rang the bell. The door opened. Kirsten was in sweat pants and a halter top, her hair tied back.

"Sorry we had to do this so late," said Stringer. "But Norton's going in for arraignment in the morning, and Detective Phillips wanted me to be prepared to testify about all this ... stuff." She gestured at the wagon, which, in addition to the electronics, now held a pile of scientific journals and papers, a romance comic and a pair of ski goggles with translucent film over the lenses.

"It's no problem," said Kirsten. "But like I said on the phone, I don't know how much help I'll be." Her gaze moved to the electronics. "Is ... that it?"

Stringer nodded.

"Is it safe?"

"Yes. They took out a couple of components. They say it won't work now."

"Okay," Kirsten said, eyeing the wagon warily. "C'mon in. I'll put up some coffee."

The Radio Flyer squeaked some more as Stringer wheeled it into the apartment.

The door closed, and Billy emerged from around the corner in the hall and crept stealthily to the threshold. He wondered what Stringer would have done if he'd poked at her in the elevator. She couldn't see him; would she think he was a ghost?

He liked that. Billy the Ghost. A phantom. The Shadow, with the power to cloud the minds of beautiful blonde women. He sat down in the carpeted hall and waited patiently.

After a few minutes, the door opened again. Stringer walked into the hall, the ski goggles covering her eyes, her eye glasses hanging in her left hand. She was dazed. She looked down at Billy in obvious confusion. He stood.

"Did you do it?," he whispered.

She was silent for a moment. "Yes. I -- I turned it on. I don't know why."

"Because I told you to. And do you remember what you're going to do now?"

"I -- I'm going to go home and go to sleep."

"That's right. And when you wake up?"

"I won't remember any of this. I won't remember you."

"That's right. You're a good girl. Tell me you're a good girl."

"I'm a good girl."

"Give me the goggles."

She pulled them off her head and handed them to him, her hand brushing against his fingers. She put her own eye glasses on.

"Kiss."

She leaned over and pressed her lips against his. He squeezed her ass.

"Okay. Go home."

Stringer moved languidly down the hall to the elevator.

Billy walked through the open door and closed it behind him. The apartment was dimly lit, and smelled of fresh coffee.

He passed through the entrance area and peered into an open door. It was the bedroom, dominated by a neatly made king-sized bed adorned with throw pillows. A sturdy dresser was topped with photos, of Hewitt, an old couple he assumed were her parents, and some likely siblings, nieces and nephews. A intricately carved jewelry box was open next to the pictures, and a large mirror hung above the dresser.

He crept deeper into the quiet apartment. Another door led to a bathroom filled with make up and hair products, a nightlight and hair dryer plugged into an outlet by the sink. The mixed aroma of perfume and soap hung in the air.

He moved on, following the flickering blue light into the living room.

Ms. Hewitt was there, standing next to a soft leather sofa, her gaze fixed on the red wagon in the center of the room. Dark hair hung over half of her face. Her lips were parted, and her large eyes held a distant look, the blue light bouncing off of them and caressing the smooth skin of her face. Beside her, a cup of coffee rested on an end table, steaming and untouched.

---

Chapter Five

Billy circled Hewitt, his eyes roaming over the curves of her body and settling on her face. Her lips, relaxed and parted slightly, looked soft. He confirmed it by reaching out and tracing their contours with his finger.

So many times he'd snuck glances at her in her office and in the hall. Now he could stare at her form unabashedly. Now she was his for the taking.

Here was a real woman. Not a girl, like the ones he'd seduced already, but an adult female, complicated and fully formed. He wondered what it would be like to be her lover -- as a man, to enchant her, sweep her off her feet, make her admire him and want to take him to bed.

"I wish I was older," he said quietly, "so I could make you my girlfriend."

She didn't react.

"Look at me."

She moved her gaze from the device and frowned deeply at the sight of Billy. "Oh ... no," she muttered in a hoarse, distant voice.

"Tell me your first name." He was sure he'd heard it at school, but it didn't register.

"Kirsten."

"Kirsten, beside Kelly, who else knows about my machine?"

She pressed her lips together.

"You have to answer my questions. You can't stop yourself."

Her mouth opened, then closed again. She shook her head.

"Kirsten, listen carefully. You're falling in love with me. You want to fuck me."

She shook her head. "No. You -- you're just a boy."

"You don't care how old I am. You're madly in love with me. You're filled with desire for me. You'll do anything I want."

"Nooo," she repeated, shaking her head slowly, sending waves of protest through her hair. "I won't. I won't."

"You can't fight it. The more you fight it, the more you want me."

"Just a boy. Just a boy." She was clinging to the words like a life vest, but her breathing intensified.

"You're in love with me. I'm making you hornier than you've ever been in your life."

Her eyes played over his face and moved up and down his body. She began to tremble -- a sight Billy found weirdly scary and arousing at once. She was finally losing control.

"You need to fuck me. You'll do anything for me."

"I need to ... I need to fuck you." The words tumbled languidly from her mouth, her tongue touching her teeth on the 't', the 'f' catching on her lips on its way out. Her pupils locked on his and she took a step closer, bringing her body near enough for Billy to smell her perfumed skin.

Then she stopped. She squeezed her eyes tight and steadied herself, then opened them again. "No!," she shouted, the lust draining from her gaze. She repeated it in a whisper. "No ... Never."

Billy plopped down on the sofa. He'd never encountered this level of resistance before. His resolve hardened along with his dick. He needed to make her loyal to him if he was going to fix Kelly -- but more immediately, he really wanted to have sex with Ms. Hewitt now.

He spun through the possibilities in his head, then stood up again.

"Kirsten, in a moment the blue light is going to go away."

She relaxed visibly.

"When it does, you won't remember it. You'll forget that I was here, that Dr. Stringer was ever here, and you won't see me or the wagon."

"Forget ..."

"You'll remember that you have a big date tonight. You're seeing someone ... named William. A man you've desired for a long time. He's everything you've ever wanted in a man, and he's finally taking you out tonight, and you have to get ready for him. For your date."

"For my date," she repeated dutifully.

"Tell me his name."

"William."

"How do you feel about William?"

"He's everything I've ever wanted in a man," she said. "I've desired him for a long time."

Billy knelt at the wagon and clutched the switch. He flipped it off and the light faded. He kept his hand hovering over it as he watched Kirsten stir from her waking sleep.

She blinked a few times and swayed in place, then looked around the apartment, momentarily confused. Her eyes passed unseeing over Billy and the wagon.

Then she stepped to the shelves lining one wall of the living room and turned on a stereo. The apartment filled with the sound of jazz, and she bounced briskly down the hall and into the bathroom.

A moment later, Hewitt's halter top flew out the bathroom and landed on the carpet in the hall. Her sweatpants followed. Then a tiny pair of panties landed on top of the pile, and the bathroom door closed. In a minute, a shower was running.

* * *  
"Noooo," said Kelly's voice. "I want Billy. I only want Billy. I want him desperately. I'm Billy's slave."

"You're nobody's slave, Kelly. Say it. Say you're nobody's slave."

"I -- I can't. I'm Billy's property. I'm Billy's slave. I c-can't resist him."

While Kirsten readied herself, Billy kept entertained by listening through headphones to one of Dr. Stringer's session tapes. He couldn't help but feel a surge of pride over how Kelly had fought Stringer's counter-suggestions tooth and nail. He wondered how the doctor had eventually won.

The sound of the hairdryer stopped in the bathroom and the door opened. Hewitt emerged. Billy swallowed. She was wrapped in a towel, her arms and legs pink from the shower, her hair tumbling down to her shoulder blades. She padded into the bedroom and closed the door.

He wondered if he could get away with watching her change.

"Kelly, listen to me. You're standing on a cliff. Below you is a mountain of rock. It's a thousand times your size, made of solid granite. It's immovable and solid. Do you see it?"

"Yesss."

"That mountain is everything Billy has done to you. It's every command, everything that's binding you to him."

"Yes. It's so big. It'll never go away."

"But now it's starting to rain, just a little. The rain water is collecting on top of the mountain, and flowing down in a stream. The stream is running over the mountain and tumbling off the edge as a waterfall."

"A waterfall ..."

* * *  
Kirsten was stunning. She was wearing a clingy low-cut cream colored dress, dangling earrings and a tiny pendant that hung over her cleavage. Her make-up was applied sparingly, but to great effect: her intelligent eyes seemed more intense than before, her lips, painted the color of a pale rose, were even more sensual and alluring.

He touched her smooth, bare arm yet again. She watched the flickering blue light placidly.

"One more time. Tell me what you're going to do when the light goes away."

"I'm going to walk into the hall and to the elevator. William will be there. We finished dinner, and I invited him up for a drink."

"Good. And how do you feel about William."

"I -- I find him captivating. Everything he says is fascinating. He's the best looking man I've ever seen; he's tall and handsome. I want to ..." she trailed off.

"What do you want to do?"

"I want to take him to bed with me. Every moment I spend with him, I want him more."

"That's right. You want to fuck his brains out. He's been making you horny all night."

"He's been making me ... horny ... all night."

"Now the light is going to go away. Whoever you find at the elevator will be William."

"Whoever I find there will be William."

Billy turned off the device. Kirsten blinked, and Billy ran through the living room and out of the apartment -- giving the door a shove behind him. He stopped around the corner at the elevator.

He bit his thumbnail nervously.

After a moment, Billy heard a door open and close and felt movement in the hall. Kirsten rounded the corner. Her eyes lit on Billy and she frowned, looking confused. Then she broke into a wide smile.

"There you are!" She took his arm. "I'm right down the hall. C'mon. Don't be shy," she teased.

She led him back down the hall to her door while Billy glanced around the hall, suddenly aware of how this would look to observers. They'd be an odd sight: a tall and beautiful woman dressed to kill, escorting a thin, jeans-clad teenager down the hall by the arm, gazing at him as if he were the most handsome and elegant man in the world.

Hewitt pulled her keys from her bag and unlocked the door, then pulled him into the apartment. She took his hand and guided him to the living room, avoiding the Radio Flyer without seeing it.

Billy tried to imagine what an adult on a date might say. He settled on, "This place is great!"

"You think so? It's a little small." She pulled off her heels. "I might buy a condo over the summer." She gestured to the sofa and walked past it to the kitchen. "Make yourself at home. Red or white?"

"Huh?"

"The wine?"

"Oh. Uh, whatever you want."

Kirsten smiled, pleased beyond all reason, then vanished into the kitchen and emerged a moment later with two wine glasses, a bottle and a corkscrew.

She sat next to him, put everything down on the coffee table. She pulled a lock of hair back from her face and smiled at him. "I had a great time tonight."

"Me too."

"Do you mind? I can never get these things open without making a mess."

He picked up the corkscrew and studied it.

"That restaurant was amazing," she said. Her gaze flickered up to his hair, then back to his eyes. "How did you hear about it?"

"Internet." He jammed the corkscrew through the foil and started twisting. The wrapper warped and crackled but the cork didn't budge. Billy pulled the corkscrew out and examined the bottle.

"Well, it was great. The whole night's been wonderful. Thank you." She touched his arm.

He held the bottle down to the coffee table with one hand and worked the foil wrapper off with the other. Success! The cork was bare underneath. "You're welcome." He twisted the corkscrew in and levered the cork out awkwardly, the wine sloshing from the bottle. If she noticed, she didn't say anything. He filled the two glass to the brim.

She held her glass up expectantly. He clinked his against hers too hard, sending a little more wine to the carpet.

They sipped. She gazed at him over her glass. Billy made a face at the flavor.

"It was nice to have an evening like this," she said. "After what I had to deal with at school."

"What? What happened?"

She set down the wine. "I didn't tell you?," she frowned. "Huh. Well, there's this student -- Billy Norton. We all thought he was a good kid, a little shy, but harmless. The type that probably spends too much time on his computer.

"Anyway, we just found out today he's been ..." Her lips curled into a wry grin. "You know, never mind." She lowered her gaze shyly. "You're going to think I'm crazy."

"No I won't. Tell me. He's been what?"

She sighed. "He's been hypnotizing girls into sleeping with him. Oh, and into doing his homework."

"C'mon," Billy scoffed. "You're joking."

"It's true," she said, her half-smile announcing she knew how silly it sounded. "He built some sort of machine that hypnotizes people. He can make them do or think or feel anything. The police have it now, and he's in jail. But it's going to take months to sort everything out. And those poor girls."

"Weren't they happy with this Norton kid?" He watched her eyes carefully for any sign of recognition.

"Well ... that's not really the point. They may have been happy when they were doing his bidding, but it wasn't real. It wasn't natural. Now that they're free --"

"They're sad and angry, right? So maybe you didn't do them any big favor by interfering."

Her eyebrows lowered dangerously. For a moment she looked angry, like she might slap him. But then her expression shifted, and she seemed intrigued. Captivated, he thought, an excellent word he'd have to remember use again.

She laughed, turned it into a joke. "I'm pretty sure the girls are happier not being madly in love with the chess club president."

"I'm not --" He stopped himself. "You know, I was sort of socially awkward when I was that age."

"Oh, I doubt that." She bit her lip and searched his eyes, as though trying to divine his childhood in their depths. "I think you had lots of girlfriends. I bet they lined up for a chance at you."

"You'd be surprised," he grumbled.

"Yeah?" She rested a feather-light hand on his thigh and inched closer. "Poor baby," she said with a mock pout. "Is there anything I can do to make up for the shameful behavior of my gender?"

"Well, it's not your fault."

She reached an arm up and played with his hair. "No, really." She inched closer. "I feel the burden of womankind on my shoulders." Her voice grew softer as her lips grew nearer. "If we'd gone to school together, I would have had a huge crush on you."

Hewitt put both hands around his head, pulled him to her, and kissed him, softly at first, then harder, her tongue penetrating his mouth, teasing and exploring within.

She pushed him gently onto his back and stretched out her body on top of him, kissing his mouth again and again, faster and harder, until she was gasping for air. Her breasts pressed against his chest. He was lost in the smell of her perfume, the lilac scent of her hair; her salty skin and the taste of wine.

* * *  
"Oh, God," Kirsten panted, coming up for oxygen. She could feel the last of her self control crumble as she pressed against William's muscular frame. God, he's so gorgeous. She moved her mouth to his neck, kissing and biting, then his chin, course with stubble, and back up to his mouth.

She felt his erection poking against her and found it with her hand. He was huge! He moaned quietly in a masculine timbre and the moistness between her legs became a soaking wetness. She pulled up his shirt and ran her tongue down the canyon between his pecs.

What's wrong with me? It's all I can do to keep from ripping my clothes off. And on the first date ...

His hands cupped her breasts, sending a tingling through her body. "Oh God, I want to fuck your brains out," she whispered.

Where did that come from? It didn't even sound like her.

She paused as a memory jostled its way to the foreground of her mind. It was Lori Fripp's words, as she wrung her hands in the dim light of Kirsten's office. "I've never said that to anyone before. But it's true. I want to fuck his brains out."

This isn't right, Kirsten thought. This isn't right at all.

She pushed herself up from the sofa. Dizzy with arousal, she lost her balance and knocked the wine bottle off the coffee table. Its contents flowed crimson on the carpet.

"I'm sorry," she said breathlessly. "I'm not feeling well. I think you should go."

"Why? What'd I do?," he asked.

The boyish look of disappointment and confusion on William's handsome face sent pangs through her chest, and a new wave of heat between her legs. But she held firm. "I -- it's not you. I'm just ... feeling confused. The thing at the school, and us, tonight -- it's all jumbled together in my head."

He tried a light-hearted grin. "C'mon. I know you want me. I've been making you horny all night."

A strange deja vu. Her resolve solidified. "Really, I need you to leave now."

"Fine." He stood abruptly and pulled down his shirt.

But instead of heading to the door, he stepped to the foot of the sofa and crouched.

---

Chapter Six

Billy's hand shook with frustration as he picked up the bottle of wine and set it back on the table next to where Kirsten stood, oblivious, enthralled again by the machine.

Those sensual lips that had draping her curvy body held a gossamer aquamarine hue.

He paced in front of her. He hadn't felt this thwarted since he built the device. Billy stepped between her and the blue light, and she squinted and looked through him.

"I'm going to make you fall so in love with me," he vowed.

She frowned.

"Smile."

She smiled prettily.

"Take off your dress."

Kirsten shook her head, making her unwilling smile suddenly seem mocking.

"Listen carefully. Your eyes are getting heavy, Kirsten. You can't keep them open. You need to let them close."

Her eyelids fluttered, and her eyes rolled back in her head as they shut.

"You're standing on a cliff, Kirsten. There's a mountain below you. It's a thousand times your size, and made of granite. It's solid and immovable. Can you see it?"

"Yes. I see it."

"That mountain is all of your resistance to my commands. It's all your strength, everything that's keeping me out."

"Yes."

"But now it's starting to rain a little. The water is collecting on top of the mountain, and flowing down it. The water is forming a stream that's running over the mountain and ..." he struggled to remember Stringer's words ... "and tumbling off the edge as a waterfall."

"A waterfall ... I see it."

"Now the rain is intensifying, and the clock is speeding up. Days are passing. Years are flying by in seconds. The stream is growing into a hundred streams, spreading out in all directions."

Her smile faded.

"The water is eating into the rock. It's eroding it, wearing it down as the decades race by. The streams of water are wearing the mountain away."

A small gasp escaped her lips and a bead of perspiration appeared on her smooth forehead.

"The mountain is crumbling, year after year. It's just a little hill now, a waterlogged mound, and it's still getting smaller."

"Smaller. It's getting smaller," she quivered.

"And now, there's nothing left at all. It's gone."

"No! Oh, please, no."

"Tell me what you see."

"It's gone," she said tremulously. "It's all gone."

"What was it, Kirsten? What was the mountain?"

"My -- my resistance."

It was Billy's turn to smile. "Look at me."

She opened her eyes.

"Kirsten, you're falling in love with me. You want to fuck me."

"I -- I'm falling in love with you."

"What do you want to do? Tell me."

"I want to fuck you. B-but, you're just a boy."

"You want me to fuck your brains out. You don't care how young I am. You're madly in love with me. You're filled with desire for me. You worship me."

"I worship you."

"You'll do anything I want."

"Anything ... Yes. I'll do anything you want."

"Take off your clothes."

She reached up to her shoulders and untied the dress straps, then reached behind her back. There was a small unzipping sound, and her hands moved to her neckline. She pulled the dress down and let it fall to her feet.

Billy gasped aloud. Kirsten's tits were huge -- all the bigger for her narrow waist and flat stomach. Her high-set nipples were hard.

Her hands trembled as she pulled her panties off. She stood before him, nude. At last. All the defiance had burned out of her eyes, replaced by a mix of confusion and naked desire.

Hewitt's pussy was wet, surrounded by a closely-shaved V of hair glistening with her arousal. He circled her. There was a birthmark between her shoulder blades-- a secret mark. He touched it, let his hand glide down to the small of her back. He squeezed her firm, naked ass gently then stepped in front of her again.

"B-Billy," she breathed, as though she'd forgotten he was there. "I love you. I want to fuck you."

Her lips quivered as he stepped into her. He grazed her mouth with his lips and she pressed against him needily, kissing him hungrily, breathing hard through her nose.

Billy broke the kiss and pulled her hair back from one ear. She was still wearing the earrings.

"You're my slave now, Kirsten," he whispered in her ear. "You're completely loyal to me. You'll never do anything to get me in trouble, and you'll do anything I command."

"Yes, Billy," she said flatly.

"Your body belongs to me," he whispered. "Your mind belong to me. You'll do whatever I ask, no matter what. You're completely obedient to me."

"I'm completely obedient to you, Billy."

"You will never let anyone but me hypnotize you. Ever."

"Never."

"What are you, Kirsten?"

"I'm your slave, Billy."

He stepped back and bent to turn off the device. The blue light sputtered out.

* * *  
Kirsten blinked, then rubbed her eyes as the room came slowly into focus. There was someone there with her. Was it William?

She gasped and covered herself with her arms. "Billy!"

"Hi Ms. Hewitt!"

"Wh -- what are you doing here? What did you do!" She bent her knees and scooped up the dress with one arm while struggling to conceal her breasts with the other.

He grinned. "Leave that off. Stop covering yourself."

There was something different about Billy. Something ... commanding. And impossibly attractive. She wanted to do what he said. It was somehow unthinkable not to.

She surrendered to the feeling and let her arms drop. Her fingers loosened and the dress fell back to the carpet with a soft rustle. It felt good to be naked in front of him, stripped of pretense or barriers. Exposed. Submissive. An awareness dawned on her ...

"Oh ... God. No. You didn't," she protested. But her body and heart told her otherwise. Billy was transformed. His narrow frame was erotic beyond measure, his eyes hypnotic and probing. Every part of his body from his tousled hair to his Nike-clad feet exerted a magnet pull.

It was hard to breath. This Billy Norton was so different from the boy she'd scolded at school. She wanted to fuck him. He was so young, yet he could plunge her into a wet and primeval ocean that would make her entire sexual life up to now look trivial, from her junior prom date to the married Science teacher. All of it, a joke.

Her longing was painful. I'm in love with him. I'm his slave.

It was wrong that she should be taller than him, when he was so much larger than life, than all her past lovers. She bent her knees and kneeled on the floor, looked up into his eyes.

"Tell me how you feel about me, Ms. Hewitt."

This isn't real, she thought. These feelings aren't real, any more than Kelly's or Andrea's feelings were real. She pressed her tongue between her teeth and bit down. The pain helped her focus.

"Don't ... do this," she said. "This is wrong, Billy. You have to see that."

He held out his hand. She took it and pressed his palm against her quivering lips.

"Take me to your bed and fuck me," he ordered.

She stood unsteadily, and, trembling, led him wordlessly down the hall to her bedroom.

* * *  
Billy plopped on the wide bed and bounced a couple times as Hewitt dimmed the light. She stepped to the bedside and crawled over him fluidly, her hair hanging down, pressed her mouth against his and kissed him, hard. Her breathing was labored. Her nipples pressed against his chest.

He sat up to let her pull his tee-shirt off over his head. Then she yanked off his shoes and slid his jeans down, followed by his underwear. His legs were so skinny -- and hers so smooth and toned -- that he felt a moment of embarrassment, but Hewitt's eyes were filled with nothing but desire.

She started at his feet, kissing them softly with her lips, then moved up his legs, teasing his thighs with her warm tongue. She touched the shaft of his penis, and he lifted his head to watch as she took him in. Her mouth was wet and hot. She bobbed her head up and down, breathing heavy through her nose, her hair draping his stomach. Her tongue rolled and twisted around his erection.

She pulled her mouth away and advanced to his chest, leaving a faint trail of lipstick as she moved up to his throat. She moved her hips so his erection was touching her pussy, and her hands reached down and touched him as she kissed his neck.

He held her shoulders and pushed her away gently. She let out a whine and tried to put him in her. He bucked her off.

"Please," she gasped. "Don't humiliate me, Billy. You've won. I belong to you."

"How do I know you'll respect me in the morning?"

"Billy!"

He laughed. "I want you to think about being honest with me. What are you? How do you feel about me?"

"I -- I'm your slave. I'm madly in love with you. My mind belongs to you. My body belongs to you."

"Keep telling me while you fuck me."

Hewitt straddled him, took his hands and pulled them up to her tits. How many times had he fantasized about this? He ran his fingers over the gentle curves then cupped them with his palms. Her skin was so smooth, and her breasts were warm and yielding. He squeezed them. She trembled at his touch and tears flooded her eyes. "My -- my body belongs to you," she said again.

With one hand she guided his erection and impaled herself on it. She gasped. "Yess. Fuck me." He pushed up to penetrate her deeper; she moaned and began rolling her hips up and down rhythmically. He could smell her arousal.

He felt an orgasm building, too quick. He squeezed and tried to concentrate on something else. The device. If he replaced the car battery with a rectifier, he might be able to power the machine from a wall socket. He did some math in his head.

Kirsten pumped up and down, her head tossed back and her eyes rolling senselessly. Her body broke out in shimmering sweat. Her hands played over her stomach and breasts as her eager thrusts built speed. "Oh, Billy," she called breathlessly. "I -- I worship you. Oh, God. Fuck me. Fuckmefuckmefuckme. I belong to you. I'm your slave, Billy. Command me!

"Oh God! Ahhhhhhhh!." Her cries grew loud and feral as she started to come. Would the neighbors hear through the stucco walls? He doubted they'd heard her like this before. "Aiighhhhhhhhhg!"," she let out a helpless shriek, and her body shuddered.

Billy exploded inside her. He groaned loudly as her screams subsided.

She collapsed on top of him like a marionette whose strings had snapped. The room was quiet, but for the weak, après moans of Kirsten's sated lust. After a moment, she tangled her legs up with his and rested her head in the crook of his shoulder. It was an awkward fit, but she was warm and soft. Her breath tickled the skin of his chest as she panted gently.

She sighed, then broke the silence. "Billy?"

"Yeah?"

"You understand, don't you?" she murmured without meeting his eyes. "That I was just doing my job?"

"Sure," he said, stroking her hair.

They laid there for what seemed hours. He took in the room, the photos, the art on the wall, the small little signs and artifacts of her private life.

"Kirsten, who else knows about my machine?"

"Hmmm? Oh. The two police officers." She moved her face to his ear and nibbled his lobe. "Kelly, Dr. Stringer, Lori Fripp and her friend, Andrea." She kissed his neck. "Andrea's the one who told me there was something suspicious going on."

"That's it?"

"Yeah." She stroked his arm with her hand. He caressed her fingers and admired her manicured nails -- his now, like everything else about her. There was a small pink scar between her thumb and index finger.

"How'd you get that?"

She examined it. "Running with scissors. I was eight."

He made a tsk sound, and they fell into silence again.

* * *  
Kirsten worked from the chair in front of her desk, trying to concentrate on paperwork and banish the memory of what she'd done minutes before, and was about to do again.

Her mind wandered, and she entertained a small, desperate fantasy that Billy would walk through the door and tell her that he'd changed his mind: she didn't have to do it after all. Her students were sacrosanct, he'd agree. He'd been so silly.

And then he'd splay her out on her desk and fuck her brains out. He'd pump her again and again, caress her body and whisper in her ear, There's nothing you can do about this, Kirsten. So you have nothing to feel guilty about.

A knock wrenched her from her daydream. "C-come in."

Her heart sank when the waifish blonde girl poked her head in, backpack slung over one slender shoulder. "Kelly said you wanted to see me?"

"Hi Andrea. Come on in." She stood and gestured at the chair. "Close the door behind you please."

Andrea shut the door.

"How did Kelly seem to you?"

"A little distracted. I heard you helped her. Lori too. What did Billy do to them, anyway?"

Hewitt shook her head. "Actually, it turns out he didn't do anything. They were all staging some kind of prank. Billy was the butt of their joke."

"What? Ms. Hewitt, that can't be true. Lori would have told me."

"Sit down. I want to show you something."

Andrea reluctantly took the chair. Hewitt walked behind the desk and reached down.

She wheeled the red wagon around the desk and parked it by Andrea's chair, then kneeled next to it.

"What ... what is -- ?"

Andrea's words died on her lips as the small office filled with cascading blue light. Her eyes gravitated to source -- the pyramid of flickering LEDs in the wagon. Her gaze sunk deep into the glow.

Kirsten regarded the mesmerized girl sadly, then sat on the edge of the desk near her.

"Andrea, do you have a boyfriend?"

The wispy blonde looked up at her with dewy eyes and blinked, then nodded slowly.

"Who?"

"Frank Mercer," she replied placidly.

Kirsten sighed. "You don't like him anymore, Andrea. He repulses you. You're going to break up with him."

"What? N-no."

"You find him disgusting. You never want to see him again."

"I -- I find him disgusting?"

"Yes. You want to break up with him."

She frowned thoughtfully. "Yes. I want to break up with him." She crinkled her cute nose. "He repulses me."

Kirsten smiled sadly. It was so easy. She couldn't remember clearly, but she was certain she had put up more of a fight before submitting to Billy.

"Andrea, what do you think of Billy Norton?"

"I -- I don't like him. He's creepy. He did something. To Lori ..."

"No, he didn't, Andrea. He didn't do anything to Lori, or to Kelly, or anybody else."

"But ... he did. Didn't he?"

"No he didn't. You've misjudged him horribly."

"Misjudged?"

"You're in love with Billy, Andrea."

The girl shifted in her seat. "No."

"You're madly, hopelessly in love with Billy Norton. You want to ... have sex with him. You want to give your body to him."

"I -- Billy, he's c-creepy. And ... and young."

"No, he's not. He's perfect. He's everything you've always dreamed of in a boy. You can't stop thinking about him."

"I ... can't?"

"No. You're in love with him. You want to have sex with him."

"I'm in love with him. I want to have sex with him."

"Who are you in love with?"

"B-Billy. Billy Norton. I'm madly, hopelessly in love with him. I want to give my body to him."

Kirsten found herself trembling. She imagined the ethereal girl in front of her following Billy around like a dog, begging for him to screw her, bending her lithesome body to his pleasure. All because she walked into Kirsten's office for a few minutes.

"That's good, Andrea. Now listen. You'll never allow anyone to put you under hypnosis, for any reason. Therapists, stage performers, dentists, whatever. You'll refuse."

"I'll refuse."

"In a moment, the blue light is going to go away. You won't remember it ever being on, or even seeing the device that produced it."

"I won't remember."

"You'll be filled with a burning desire to see the boy you're in love with."

"Billy. Yes. I love Billy. I want to have sex with Billy."

Kirsten picked up the handle of the wagon and rolled it behind the desk, where she switched off the invention.

Andrea blinked, refocused her eyes. Her hands rose to her temples and she rubbed them, dazed. "I -- I'm sorry, Ms. Hewitt. I spaced out for a second."

Kirsten smiled patiently. "That's alright, Andrea. I just wanted to let you know that the whole Billy Norton thing was a hoax. That's all. I'm hoping the rumors will stop now that he's been vindicated."

Andrea brightened and nodded vigorously. "Don't worry. I won't say anything disparaging about Billy." She smiled and blushed. "I -- I think I'll go apologize to him right now."

"That's sweet."

Andrea stood and stepped out of the office. Kirsten called after her. "Oh, Andrea?"

"Yes?"

"If you happen to run into Lori, can you send her in to see me?"

* * *  
Kelly found Billy at their old meeting spot under the bleachers. The very sight of his skinny form brought a flood of bitter memories: the rainy night he took Kelly and gave her boyfriend to his sister like a pound dog. Posing in the photo booth for him. Setting up Lori. Fucking him, sucking him off, again and again.

She knew him so intimately, and hated him just as much.

"I'm not your slave!," she called from a safe distance. Somewhere, a bird chirped.

He grinned and walked closer. "I didn't say you were."

"I know you took Ms. Hewitt. She called me into her office, and I know she used your little invention on me. But it didn't work. I hate you just as much. You're sick and disgusting, and I'll see you in jail if it's the last thing I do. You can't hypnotize everyone."

Billy looked her up and down rudely, like he used to when she was programmed to enjoy it. She shuddered. His face registered her reaction.

"I, uh, heard the tape," he said. "You with that shrink. You sounded so relieved when she undid my suggestions." He kicked the dirt idly. "I guess I didn't know."

"What are you saying?"

"You still hate me because I allowed it. I'm letting you go."

He seemed almost sincere, the little liar. "Bullshit," Kelly spat. "If you're letting me go, then what am I doing here?"

"I told Kirsten -- Ms. Hewitt -- to send you. I wanted to say goodbye."

"What's to stop me from telling everyone what you've done?"

"Yeah, about that ... You'll find that impossible. Ms. Hewitt put a few trap doors in your mind. And you'll find yourself telling your parents and everyone else who asks that you made up that whole story about me. Sorry."

She averted her eyes. He noticed.

"You've already called your folks. Nice. You always were prompt."

"Fuck you." She shook her head. "God, you make me sick. How long do you think you're going to get away with this?"

"You know, just because you're not my sex slave anymore doesn't mean you can't be nicer to me."

"Did you do this to Lori too?"

"Let's just say, I'm 'dreamy' again." He giggled. "And I think Andrea's going to be my new girlfriend. I don't know what I'm going to do with Jessica. To be honest, I'm thinking of turning my sister into a lesbian and hooking them up. They're already best friends, so why not? I'd make them invite me to watch, I guess."

"I'm leaving."

"I'm just kidding! Kelly, wait." A vulnerable look crossed his face. "Honestly, do you ever, um, miss me?"

She stared, mouth agape. "Miss you?"

"It wasn't all bad, was it?"

"You're pathetic. You need professional help."

He set his jaw. "Well, how about one last blow job. For old times' sake."

"Go to hell."

"A kiss, then. A good kiss. A hot kiss. Like before."

"I'd sooner kiss a cockroach. Have a nice life, Billy."

"Please?"

There was a thunk in Kelly's mind, like loose groceries shifting in the trunk of a car. Suddenly, kissing him didn't seem unreasonable. In fact, nothing he could ask her to do would be unreasonable.

"Oh ... you ... fucker," she whispered. She willed herself to turn and run, but the need to obey swelled from inside her. She felt her legs carry her the distance between them.

"That's better. Thank me nicely for letting you kiss me, please."

She tried to squeeze her mouth shut. "Th -- thank you Billy for letting me kiss you," she whispered. She wrapped her arms around his neck and melted into him compliantly, pressing her lips against his.

Kelly poured all her hate into the kiss, pulling his head tight to hers and thrusting her tongue deep into his mouth. She tried to make him feel her loathing through the embrace, somehow taste the disgust on her tongue. Instead, she felt his erection pressing against her thigh.

She was finally able to pull out. She dabbed a bit of saliva from her lip and backed away from him cautiously.

Billy fished around inside his backpack and yanked out a sheaf of pages.

"Just one last time, I promise," he said. "I'm really having problems with English Lit. Have it back to me by Tuesday. Please."

Kelly stepped helplessly back to Billy and yanked the papers from his hands. She stuffed them in her bag and stormed out into the sunlight, leaving Billy alone under the bleachers.