Chapter 12

It turned out that Jim Beatty was very involved in the local Elks club. He was a past president and remained on the board. The club's property included a woodlot of about five acres. The woodlot was something like 400 feet wide and 550 feet long. The trees in the woodlot averaged about sixteen inches in diameter and were well spaced apart. The club maintained the lot by periodically clearing out fallen branches and debris. Jim felt the woodlot would make a perfect venue for the paintball element of the Program. The club's property was toward the edge of town and only a couple of blocks from the school.

Jim arranged to have lunch at the club on Thursday with the current president and the club's professional manager. The club did a lively business in its cocktail lounge. There was a fish fry every Friday night and numerous other events that included dinner. The club had had a professional manager for a long time.

When Jim had outlined his thinking, the idea was discussed at length. The president's enthusiasm was obviously building. The manager was primarily concerned with both the potential liability for the club and with the likelihood that a great deal of debris would remain. These concerns were quelled to the satisfaction of all. The three spent a lot of time discussing how the woodlot could be improved for the benefit of the student participants, including the creation of shallow trenches and by importing bales of straw. It was agreed that that sort of thing would be approved if the gamers decided they would be useful.

The president agreed that, if Jim would reduce to writing his proposal, he would bring it up at the next board meeting. All were confident of board approval.

Jim next called on Fred Gregory, the owner of the sporting goods store. Jim was pleased to learn that Fred had done his homework and knew what paintball equipment was needed and how to get it. They talked at length about quantities needed. Not having talked about it in detail with anyone else, and never having played themselves, they imagined that no more than twenty-four students would be playing at any one time. They persuaded themselves that thirty sets of guns and protective gear would be adequate. They felt less confident when it came to the quantity of paintball ammunition that would be required. They decided to begin with a rough calculation. There were 144 students. If each expended two dozen shots, then the total needed would be 3,456; they decided to round that number up to an even 4,000 shots. When Fred inquired whether the adult participants would need ammunition as well, they decided that half again more, or 6,000 shots, would have to be enough to begin with. Fred agreed to toe up an estimate of the cost and find out how long it would take to order and receive the merchandise.

Jim's third stop was at the school. He made a thorough report of his progress to a very pleased Jean. Together, they discussed details. Jean agreed that the involvement of some youngsters, who had actually played the game, was very necessary. Jean agreed to put out the word and assemble something of a steering committee for that portion of the Program.

Flush with his considerable success with the paintball element, Jim next called on John Underwood at the hardware store. Jim mentioned his discussions with Bob on the matter of gun and skeet training for the students. John had devoted a fair amount of time on the matter.

As for skeet shooting, John said, the issues were a suitable location, guns, ammunition, clay pigeons and one or more launchers.

John had spoken to Abner Honig, who had retired from farming but still lived on his farm with his wife. Abner's wife was well beyond the age for childbearing, and he had told John he had no intention of leaving his wife behind. There were fallow fields aplenty on Abner's farm, which was conveniently just down the road from the Elks' Club. Abner had said he would be proud to help the kids, and volunteered his pasture for skeet shooting.

John pointed out that there were already more shotguns in town than Carter had pills. He saw no reason to buy guns when any number could be borrowed. John and Jim discussed the matter for a while and finally agreed that .410 and/or 20-gauge shotguns would be plenty large enough. John agreed to call some of his customers that he knew owned such guns and ask if they could be borrowed.

John showed Jim the boxes and boxes of clay pigeons in stock at the store. He allowed as how the clay pigeons probably wouldn't sell before the extraction anyway, and were really just under foot. Jim suspected that almost all of the boxes had arrived from John's supplier in the last week or so, but didn't air his thoughts.

Next, and with evident glee, John dragged Jim out the front door and half a block down the street. They entered the truck repair shop and called out for Bill Saunders, the owner. Bill came in the side door into the office, hammer in hand. When John asked Bill to show Jim what he was doing, he gladly complied and led them into the shop area. There they saw that Bill was building a row of stalls across the width of the front of the building. The opposite wall was stacked, floor to ceiling long-wise, with bales of straw. Both sidewalls, from the front of the shop to the rear, were likewise stacked to the ceiling with a single course of straw bales. The stalls under construction were obviously shooting stations.

When Jim casually inquired of what Bill was doing, Bill allowed as how he had suddenly felt a deep need to practice his shooting. Bill thought that maybe, just maybe, the students ought to learn to handle small arms as well. Did Jim think the students would like to come use his new digs? All three men laughed heartily.

Jim asked Bill how Bill would carry on his business with the space configured for target practice. With a giant grin, Bill announced that he had decided to retire. Jack, Bill's competitor down the street, could easily handle the diminished business.

They discussed the types of firearms that would be most suitable for Bill's new range. John pointed out that a shooter could easily go through 100 shots in a session, and often would. When they started multiplying that times 144 students (and an unknown, but not small, number of adults) times at least two sessions per week for eight weeks, the total number of rounds -- and the total cost -- was staggering. They agreed that .22 caliber ammunition was out of the question in terms of cost. Air gun ammunition was far less expensive, relative to .22 shells, but still a big number in total.

John pointed out that the air guns could be charged with compressed air using the same tanks as for the paintball guns. They would have to buy the air guns, but the savings on ammo would more than make up for the cost of buying air guns.

Troubled by the money, they decided to bring the matter to the attention of Mayor John Davis. Perhaps he would have a good solution.

Feeling acute stress at the required expenditure plus the need to proceed with the order, the three marched down to the mayor's daytime hangout, his bakery. When apprised of the problem, a smiling John could barely contain his exasperation with their concerns. "Guys, the whole town embraced this plan, whole-hog. This is not the first unintended consequence, and it won't be the last. The students learning to shoot is essential. John, order the equipment and supplies we need and bring the bill to me. The town will pay for it. Now, have a pastry on me, sit down, and tell me the rest of you guys' plans."

And so they did. John's delight was broadly evident. After a nice visit, they all got back to work. Jim circled back around to Jean and delivered a glad report on the shooting element of his assignment. Jean was of course delighted with the news.

Ellen strolled into the school, made her way into the office and, at Jean's invitation, plunked herself down in a chair in Jean's office. "The buzz in town is that the Program is quite a success. I thought I'd come visit and see for myself. I don't want to interfere, or interrupt proceedings. Would you mind if I spent a little time observing?"

"Of course not, Ellen," Jean replied with a smile. You're welcome anywhere in the school. Of course, the K through 7 students are still in their usual classes. You might see an entire class in the hallway on the way to the gym, or the library. All of the teachers would be delighted to have you visit, even if you wanted to be ignored so you could simply observe.

"The new adults do their work in the former eighth through twelfth grade classrooms, over that way," and she pointed, "outdoors near the gym, in the pool, and in the Home Ec room, that way. You can help us all. We're going to have to begin taking true adults into the Program soon. I have my own ideas about how we should help and proctor the adults, but I'd be very interested in talking to you about your thoughts. Will you keep that in mind as you observe?"

"I'd be glad to share whatever comes to mind as I watch," smiled Ellen. "What about�. Well, let me look first. That might help me ask fewer dumb questions," she laughed.

"Oh, Ellen," said Jean in mock-exasperation. "How much time have you allowed for your visit? You would serve yourself and the Program a lot more if you actually had a go briefly at each of the stations of the physical side of the Program. Try the balance beam. Show off your skill jumping Double Dutch, have Liz or Jeff help you do a flip. Spar for a few moments with whoever is proctoring the boxing and the pugil sticks. Throw Matt around for a bit at the judo station. Swim for a while, if you like."

Ellen laughed lightly at the thought of manhandling a judo black-belt. "I have a couple of hours," she said. "Maybe I'll take you up on your offer. I might want to get involved in the evenings, either as a student or as a proctor."

"That would be wonderful, Ellen," said Jean with a smile. "Proctors for the after-hours work is my greatest concern. How about we plan on you being here for the rest of the morning. I'll buy you a sumptuous free lunch in our gourmet school cafeteria at noon. You and I can sit with the proctors and compare notes."

"That sounds like a plan to me," Ellen smiled. "I'll call my office and make sure my time is clear and let them know where I'll be. I'll meet you in the cafeteria at noon."

"Great," said Jean. "You should step into the academic rooms, too, so you can see the barely controlled chaos of the kids teaching each other at double-time. Oh, by the way, there is enforced nudity in the pool area. The kids were quite militant about that including the proctors. Good for the goose, good for the gander, and all that. It's quite an experience, if you've never been nude in public for the first time. About five minutes is all it took before I felt pretty comfortable, buck naked in front of my students. It's really a very liberating experience. You've seen every body part in town, but it's different when the shoe is on the other foot."

Ellen blushed crimson and started to stammer out a polite refusal. Smiling her best innocent grin, she said, "The pink lockers in the girl's locker room are for proctors. Leave your purse and any valuables with me. Have fun! See you at noon!"

Ellen doubtfully left her purse with Jean, and began her tour outdoors. The kids at the two stations near the door were obviously having fun. A third team could be seen running around the football field. Both nearby teams stopped their work and rushed to greet her when they saw her. Mary and Heather joined in. Soon, Ellen was getting her introduction to the balance beam with Heather as her opponent. Heather had been practicing and was gaining skill. Ellen's first several attempts were promptly ended with Heather forcing her off the beam. But Ellen quickly gained enough of her own skill to at least lengthen the matches to more than a few seconds.

Ellen approached the rope jumpers. Laughing gaily, Eric invited her to jump in with him. With a grin of her own, she watched long enough to get the rhythm and then jumped in. Eric jumped with her for half a minute, then jumped out, leaving Ellen alone. Ellen was delighted, and began hopping on first one leg and then the other, twirling and laughing. A girl jumped in with her and they jumped together for a bit. Ellen jumped out, smiling broadly, to the applause of the whole team. She beamed and thanked the team.

Ellen eyed the runners, but decided to forego jogging, at least for today. All of the kids waved goodbye and she turned and headed to the entrance. Eric intercepted her. "Thank you for what you did for Steven and me last Saturday night," he said softly.

She smiled at him. "You're very welcome. I meant what I said, Eric. When are you coming to my home to visit?"

"Could we come over on Saturday night?" Eric asked tentatively.

Pausing to review her commitments, she smiled and nodded. "I'd like that a lot. What will you tell your parents?"

"I don't know yet. We'll think of something," smiled Eric.

"The truth wouldn't be a bad idea," she smiled. "Tell them you're spending the night at my house, because I invited you, and you don't know why. It's true at least that you don't know why I like you so much. Have them call me if they have any concerns. I'll see you at about eight o'clock on Saturday night." They bid goodbye and she entered the school.

She found her way into the math class. Carol immediately spotted her, smiled brightly and began to approach. Ellen waved her away, signaling that she merely wanted to watch. Carol resumed her work with the students.

Controlled chaos was an apt description. All around the room, small groups were busily working, talking quietly, and writing equations on whiteboards. The leadership of some, and the rapt attention of the others, warmed Ellen's heart. Many of the students waved to her when she was noticed, but they didn't stop their work. It was evident that a few of the students had zero interest in math and zero willingness to participate. They sat, alone or in twos and threes, absently gazing about or jawing with their friends, their places at the tables empty. The two proctors studiously ignored the scofflaws.

Next door in the science room, Ellen met Susan standing near the door, silently observing her students conduct chemistry experiments. At the opposite end of the room, Janice was delivering a lecture. Susan and Ellen visited quietly, Susan explaining the goings-on. Ellen remarked on the few zoned-out students not participating with their peers. Susan merely shrugged and nodded.

On to the physical training, Ellen next entered the gymnastics area. Again, all activity briefly stopped while the team and Liz greeted her. Ellen was pleased to see the team resume its activities. Some were practicing forward flips, no longer relying on the step stool. Others were working on headstands, away from the wall. One boy was even doing a handstand, albeit against the wall.

The end of the first session neared, and the team waved goodbye and filed out, headed for the lockers. Liz coaxed Ellen into learning to flip forward. First, Liz showed Ellen how to jump onto and off of the little trampoline. Ellen did that over and over, jumping onto the trampoline and then forward to the floor, turning to do it again. Then Liz showed Ellen the next step by jumping onto the trampoline and executing a forward flip. Liz had Ellen watch closely as she flipped several times. After explaining what Liz would be doing in aid of the flip, and assuring Ellen that she would be safe, Ellen tried it. With Liz holding Ellen's middle, hands front and back, she surprised herself by successfully doing a flip. The landing was wobbly, but she had done it. Ellen practiced over and over, Liz's helping less and less each time, until Liz stepped away and watched Ellen do it all by herself.

Ellen was elated. Liz clapped and cheered.

The first team of the second session filed in. With their arrival and, after profusely thanking Liz, Ellen proceeded to the boxing area. Still glowing from her flipping success, it was easy for Shannon to get Ellen suited up.

With adrenalin still coursing through her body, Ellen was a bit much for Shannon to spar with. It turned out that Sarah Edwards' team was in the room. Sarah broke away from her sparring partner and approached. Shannon gladly stepped away. Sarah and Ellen squared off and began to spar.

Sarah gave Ellen a running commentary with pointers as she responded to the aggressiveness Ellen was really unable to hide. Sarah's actions mirrored Ellen's and soon both were landing substantial punches to the other. Sarah took the pummeling all in stride, never ceasing her commentary, never letting her anger rise. Finally, Ellen stepped back and dropped her hands.

Shannon stopped Ellen from removing her gear, and shooed her to the next room for a go with the pugil sticks. There, she was greeted by the two teams practicing judo and the pugil sticks as well as by Jeff and Matt.

Jeff gave her a pugil stick and had one of his own. After a brief explanation and a warning to make her moves slowly and deliberately, they began. Jeff had many opportunities to land a blow, but didn't, stopping just short of the mark. Ellen was thankful, knowing many of the blows could have knocked her down. Five or so minutes of that was all Ellen wanted for her first episode. She shucked her gear, thanked Jeff, and bid goodbye to the rest.

She had saved the dreaded pool for last. Knowing the only proctor she had not yet seen was Bob, she forced herself to head for the locker room. Finding an unused pink locker, she quickly undressed, took a quick shower, and trudged down to the pool. Just before entering the pool area, she stopped, forced herself to stand tall with her arms at her sides, and walked in.

Two teams were in the pool and Bob was standing poolside on the other side. The kids saw her, waved and shouted their greetings, and went back to work. Bob smiled broadly, if a bit sadly, and approached her. She calmly began walking to meet him.

He clasped both of her offered hands and smiled broadly. He made no pretense, examining her from head to toe and back again with his eyes. "Your beauty makes your story all the more tragic, Ellen."

"You are a handsome man, Bob. I'm glad to see you again." He glanced down at the evidence of his growing arousal and tried to release her hands. She held them tight, smiling, looking nowhere else than at his now-rigid cock. "Your reaction is a tonic to me, Bob. Let me see that you want me. Let me feel my body respond to you." She shuddered visibly but stood still.

"My response beggars your loss," said Bob sadly.

"It isn't lost, Bob," she smiled. "Happiness delayed is not happiness denied. There may yet be hope for me."

"Then I'm truly glad for you, Ellen," smiled Bob. "Your beauty is not only on the outside. You are a wonder to me."

"Did Kathy tell you that I accepted her invitation for dinner in your home tomorrow night?"

Bob's face registered surprise and delight. "No, she didn't. That's wonderful!"

"I need a favor of you, Bob," she softly said as she blushed to the tops of her incredible breasts. "There must be a God after all. By His grace, tomorrow I will be fertile. Kathy will help, and be supportive. Will you make a baby in me? Please?"

Bob was poleaxed. His cock was throbbing, bouncing in plain sight of the whole room. Ellen held his hands, watching first as multiple expressions raced across his face, then, openly and without shame, his rampant cock. After a long moment, he recovered at least some of his composure. A radiant smile filled his entire face. Unable to speak, he simply nodded. Tears flowed down both their faces. Ellen's face was as radiant as his.

Breaking the spell, she giggled. "If we stand here much longer, you'll spray me all over with that fire hose of yours. Let's swim?" She released one of his hands and led him to the far side of the pool, where two lanes were unused. With a backward glance at Bob, she deftly dove into the pool and began swimming.

They swam two complete laps. Bob, taught the racing turn he had wanted to learn, had three opportunities to practice it. He still needed work, but he was improving. When they reached the shallow end again for the second time, they both stood up.

They stood together, arms at their sides, neither knowing what to say. "Will you be gentle with me, Bob?" she softly asked. He nodded.

"I hope our child has your red hair, Ellen," he finally said. "I'm glad I have been a gentleman all these years. Red hair drives me wild."

"I always wanted a wild man as a pet," she giggled.

Jean led Ellen to the table where all of the proctors were having their lunch. They shared greetings as they settled down to their meal. After they had had a few bites, Jean asked, "Ellen, do you have any observations about the Program you'd like to share with us?"

Glancing at Bob with a coy smile, Ellen said, "I did have some observations." Bob was able to keep from visibly wincing. "I went through all of the stations except for running and judo. I did watch the judo for a bit. I haven't run in years but I want to get back into it. As I went through, I thought about myself being a daily, well maybe nightly, participant. I thought about who would proctor the evening sessions. The obvious answer is to choose the best of your students and recruit them as proctors in the evening. You could even recruit enough that they weren't obliged to be here every night."

She stopped and had a bite of her lunch. "But then I had another thought. What if you recruited as proctors the *worst* of your students? What if you chose those with native athletic ability, but without motivation to excel in the Program? And what if, as a condition of their appointment as proctors, they had to bear down, academically and physically, in their own work?"

As if with a magic wand, she had managed to freeze each person at the table, lost in thought at the idea Ellen had delivered. As if on cue, they all began to talk at once. They all laughed and were still.

"It can't hurt any," Dave allowed. "Those kids are lost to the Program already."

"And they're hurting their teammates," added Jeff.

That sparked an animated discussion. Jean observed that requests for entry by adults were streaming in to her at a good clip. They realized that, instead of a proctor at each station, a proctor could be assigned to each team as it assembled nightly, and go with that team through all of the stations -- the physical stations, they agreed, as the miscreants weren't ideal proctors for the academic work. They would not try to always put the same proctors with the same teams. They wouldn't even try to keep teams together. Instead, the first six adults ready to begin would be a team for the night.

Bob tied in their new idea with the need for youngsters to organize the paintball exercises; the adults, never having played paintball, didn't know what to do.

They agreed that the adult portion of the Program should begin the following Monday night. Jean volunteered herself to find proctors for the math and science. Those segments, of course, would not be mandatory for the adults, but should at least be made available.

Dave was drafted as the recruiter, and the axe man, for the miscreants. He was directed to get them to enthusiastically volunteer or, failing that, to expel them from the Program for the benefit of the remaining team members. Jean summarily cleared Dave's afternoon schedule and asked him to devote his entire attention to the task. The recruits would instantly demonstrate a complete turn-around in their attitudes or would leave. Final selections would occur on Friday night. Paintball organizers would be selected from among the successful proctors.

Amy added that she was prepared to re-constitute any teams broken by the withdrawal of team members.

"What's wrong?" asked Chelsea when Adam stomped back into the boxing area and began roughly removing his gear.

"I got expelled," growled Adam.

Dave, who had followed Adam from the hall where they were talking, said, "That isn't true, and you know it. Tell Chelsea the truth, Adam, or I will."

Adam glowered at Dave while he spoke to Chelsea. "They don't think I have my head in the Program. They think I'm wasting my time and their resources by staying. They told me to get with it, or I was out."

"Well," Dave allowed, "that's true as far as it goes. Are you so disinterested in paintball that you don't want to share that part with Chelsea?"

"Paintball? What's that got to do with it?" asked Chelsea.

Adam just scowled at Dave while he continued shucking off his gear. When it became obvious that Adam wasn't going to elaborate, Dave took up the explanation himself. "We're ultimately searching for students we will select to organize and manage the paintball segment of training that will be starting soon. In order to be involved in managing paintball, the student has to be willing to do an outstanding job proctoring the adults that will begin next week doing the same thing you students are doing. In order to be invited to proctor the adults, the student must show dedication and commitment to his own training.

"Chelsea, you know Adam is coasting. He's one of the best athletes in school. Does he help the rest of his team excel at the physical training?" Chelsea shook her head. "Is he engaged in the activities in the academic sections?" Again, Chelsea shook her head. "Do you think Adam would be a good proctor for the adults?" That question wasn't as easy for her, and she hesitated. "If he won't help you, his friends, would he help the adults?" Now Chelsea shook her head.

"Will you, will your team, do better if you have six members who are trying to help themselves and their teammates?" Dave asked. Chelsea nodded. "Then aren't we doing your team a disservice by allowing Adam to coast?" More nodding.

Dave turned to Adam. "You've made your decision, Adam. You don't have to be involved with the paintball. You don't have to proctor. You do have to put your heart in the Program. If you can't do that, then go do something else. Don't let me hear from anyone that you were expelled. You quit." Dave and Chelsea watched as Adam finished removing his gear. Leaving it strewn on the floor, Adam marched out without a word.

Dave turned to Chelsea. "We'll re-organize your team tomorrow or Monday. Probably tomorrow. If you hear that Adam has been telling less than the truth, we'll all be better off if I hear about it. You can tell your own version if you think you ought to."

Chelsea, still shocked, nodded her head. Dave left, headed for his next target.

By the end of the day, Dave had apparently motivated five guys -- and one girl -- to demonstrate tomorrow that they really wanted to proctor and to manage the paintball segment. Six more guys had reacted as Adam had. Now, eight teams needed to be re-organized.

"Good evening, young adults," Jean began. "You are doing well. Seven of you decided today that the Program doesn't suit, and have gone off to do something else. There are now eight teams with only five members. You know who you are. Tomorrow morning, please arrive five minutes earlier than usual. We will re-configure you into two teams of six, and four teams of seven. Those teams with seven should expect to lose a member when additional attrition requires further re-configuration. Yes, we expect more of you to fade away. We aren't happy at that thought. One of the most important tasks for your team is to keep every member motivated. You demonstrate leadership if you help a team member begin pulling his or her share of the weight. That person's lagging affects the whole team. Do something about it, or let us know to do something about it, before the problem drags down the whole team.

"On a brighter note, we found a way to motivate six of you who were struggling. We need proctors for the evening sessions, when the adults will be the Program participants. We invited six of you to become proctors, on condition that their own Program performance immediately change from unsatisfactory to outstanding. Six teams should see a former laggard become a superstar tomorrow and stay with the effort every day after that.

"We have made great progress on establishing a paintball segment as well as segments for target shooting and skeet shotgun shooting. The very best of the student proctors will be organizing and managing the paintball segment. We will accept applications from more of you to become proctors for the adults, on condition your own performance is sterling.

"If you think you can get us to invite you by suddenly doing dismal work in your own Program, think again. If you drop your own effort, expect a solid kick in the pants from me, and I mean that literally.

"Thank you for behaving like responsible adults in the community. Remember, if the County Sheriff or the state liquor board become involved, then not only will the owner lose his liquor license, but the entire Program may come crashing down around our ears.

"I'll see you in the morning. Dismissed."

Bob and Sandy had taken to walking home together after school. Part of the way, really. Bob felt his business deserved at least some of his attention. Kathy had pretty much taken over control of the business and, as good as she was, there were things he felt he needed to do himself. He'd begun to devote an hour or two on his way home. He and Sandy parted company and he went there.

Sandy arrived at home to find her mother preparing dinner as she usually was. They greeted each other. Kathy told her she'd like to talk for a while. Did she need to change, or make any calls, or such? Sandy said she'd be back soon.

When Sandy returned, she found a glass of white wine at the breakfast bar where she usually sat. Kathy had poured one for herself as well. Wine for Kathy wasn't wildly unusual at this hour, but wine for herself was� different.

Kathy continued with her cooking and they began to compare their days. After a few minutes of this, Sandy said "Mom, I'm glad you had a good day. Thanks for asking about mine." She lifted her wineglass and, looking at it pointedly said, "Is the other shoe gonna drop soon?"

Abashed, Kathy leaned back against the counter facing her daughter, took a long but small sip from her wine, and brought her eyes to meet Sandy's. "Our world has been turned upside down in the past few weeks. Someone threw away the rulebook, and I don't know what the new rules are. I'm having a hard time, Sandy. I learned how to be a mother from my mother. I love your grandma, but she's never been my friend. There are subjects that are absolutely out of bounds between us. We've never talked about her sexuality, or my sexuality, and we never will.

"You're going to be fourteen soon. Before, that would have meant I had about half that much more time before I had to worry about you getting married, and longer still before you'd have your first baby. Now, unless your CAP score allows you to volunteer, you might have four babies before you reach twenty-one. I'm not smart like your father, Sandy, and I'm not as smart as you are. I'm scared of what's ahead of me. I'm scared about what's in store for you, and I'm having a hard time." Tears ran down her face as she spoke. She produced a tissue from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes.

Sandy climbed down from her stool, came around the breakfast bar and collected her mother into a loving hug. "I love you, Mom," she whispered. She felt, rather than heard, her mother's sobbing, shuddering. She held her in a hug for a long time.

"Do you want to be my girlfriend, Mom?" She felt Kathy hesitate and then nod vigorously. "You want to share secrets? And hopes, and fears? And catty gossip, and talk about boys?" Kathy's nods accompanied each question. "OK," she said, pulling herself away enough to see her mother's face, while holding her in an embrace. They gazed lovingly into each other's eyes. "Best friends forever. I'll tell you everything. You have to tell me everything." We have to seal our friendship with a kiss." Sandy brought her lips near to Kathy's, but waited until Kathy surrendered and moved the last bit until their lips met. The kiss was long and loving, but chaste.

"You don't think Dad's going with us, do you?" asked Sandy quietly. Kathy was visibly shocked, but shook her head. "And you want to take a souvenir of Dad with you, don't you? A memento, that you carry in your belly?" Kathy could only blush and nod sadly, more tears streaming down her cheeks.

"You sound like cats in there! It sounds like you're trying to jam him in there so hard, it comes out your nose!" Both women were laughing now, but Kathy's face was crimson. "I've never cum so hard in my life! I try to time my orgasm to match yours, but I can't jill off that many times in one night." Still laughing, and now both crying, they embraced again. "Are you pregnant?" Sandy whispered.

"I haven't missed my period yet," Kathy answered softly. "If I'm not pregnant, it isn't from lack of trying."

Sandy again pulled away to look into her mother's eyes. "Mom," Sandy solemnly said, "if Dad doesn't go with us, I want my own memento before we go." Weighing the words she'd heard Kathy finally nodded her head, smiling sadly.

"Can we torture him, Mom?" Sandy suddenly pulled away and yanked her shirt over her head. "Can we, can we, can we?" They were both laughing now. "I saw him, at the pool," she laughed. "He saw me. He got an instant boner. I hugged him to me, to hide it from the rest. I felt his hard cock pressing into my tummy. He was *so* embarrassed! I had to hold him, and calm him down," she giggled.

"Too fast, Sandy," Kathy hissed. "Too fast. I will share everything with you, Sandy, but I'm an old woman. You gotta take it slower with me!"

"You're no old woman, Mom!" laughed Sandy. "I'm so glad I have your genes. I'm gonna look like a fox until I'm 60! You're gonna suckle my babies, and I'll suckle yours."

Kathy blushed at the compliment. "OK, I'm no crone. But you gotta give me some time to get used to this!"

"I will, I will," laughed Sandy. "But first, please, please, please? I want to know what my tits will be like when I finish growing."

As they stood looking at each other, a number of expressions crossed Kathy's face. Finally, with a bit of resignation but smiling, Kathy pulled her own shirt over her head. "Mom," Sandy said, drawing out the word, "why are you still wearing a bra?" Kathy blushed and shrugged. When she reached to release the front clasp on the bra, Sandy gently slapped her hands away and reached in herself. Clasp released, Sandy held the garment together for a moment and then slowly pulled it open, exposing Kathy's breasts, and off Kathy's shoulders. Sandy let it go and it fell to the floor.

"Oh, Momma, I'm gonna have *fabulous* tits!" Sandy squealed. "Can I touch 'em?" she begged. With a shy smile, Kathy nodded. Sandy slowly reached in with both hands and hefted Kathy's tits. "Come on, Mom, reach out and reminisce about when you were my age." After hesitating, Kathy reached out and caressed her daughter's breasts. Both women stood, looking down at themselves, and across at the other's breasts, and up into each other's eyes, smiling.

"I wanna lick your tonsils, Mom, but I'll go slow. I love you very much," said Sandy softly.

"Thank you, Sandy," said Kathy. "I love you very much, too. Let's go slow with torturing your dad as well. We can turn up the heat as we go, but let's not do it all at once. Just make sure you have a good grip on your towel when you come out of the shower!" giggled Kathy.

Nodding and smiling wickedly, Sandy approached for another kiss, as long and as chaste as the last. Finally, they broke apart and put their shirts back on. Kathy collected the bra from the floor, wadded it up, and put it on the counter. She smiled shyly at Sandy.

Bob finally arrived at home. Dinner was served and they had a nice, safe conversation about the goings-on of the day. When dinner was finished, Sandy set about cleaning the kitchen. Kathy supervised homework and baths for Travis and Becky. It was a quiet evening, ordinary in every respect. The little ones were put to bed. Kathy and Sandy joined Bob in the living room. Bob was oblivious to the huddling between Kathy and Sandy.

Bob and Kathy climbed into bed. As every night, one thing led quickly to another. Soon Bob was atop Kathy and he drove himself deep within her. Using her hands, she held his hips still. Lacing her fingers behind Bob's head, she looked lovingly into his eyes. "Pull the covers back, Sandy," she softly said, "so you can see."

Bob's head whipped around to find a bare-naked Sandy approaching, a huge smirk on her face. Kathy pulled his face back to her own and planted a fiery kiss on -- in -- his mouth. She broke the kiss and looked lovingly into his eyes. In answer to the questions written all over his face, she said, "I told Sandy she could watch us fuck, if we could watch her jill. She'd just be jilling off in her bed anyway. Sandy needs to learn about sex, and fast." Bob sputtered but couldn't manage a single coherent word.

"Oh, Bob," she giggled. "Oh, Sandy, I just had the nastiest thought."

"What?" Sandy squealed as she yanked the covers all the way to the foot of the bed. Kathy threw her hips up and down, making sure her man didn't wilt inside her.

"I'll tell ya later," she said with glee. "First, Sandy come in close and get an eyeful of what we're doing. Bob, pull out and show Sandy."

"I already saw you with a hard-on, Dad," Sandy giggled. "You're outnumbered and outflanked. Just go with the program."

With a dubious expression, Bob did as instructed. Pushing his upper body away from Kathy, he withdrew his still-hard cock and let it dangle above Kathy. "Bend down between us, Sandy," whispered Kathy. Sandy did, and Kathy pressed Sandy's ear into her tummy. "I want you to look, and touch, and feel, me and your dad. Sandy tentatively reached out and tactilely examined first her mother and then her father. When she stopped, Kathy whispered, "Seen enough?" Sandy nodded. "Take hold of him and guide him to my entrance. Watch as he disappears deep into me." She did. Kathy couldn't see her face but Bob admired the wonder on Sandy's face. Finally, Bob's pubic bone rested on Kathy's and he was fully inside her. Sandy withdrew her head and Bob lowered himself onto his elbows.

"I don't believe this," Bob croaked.

"This is gonna be fun," giggled Sandy.

"Sandy," Kathy instructed, "pull that chair up and sit in it. Put your feet on the bed and show Daddy your bald pussy." When Sandy was in position, Kathy said, "Now show me how you can time your orgasm to match mine," and she signaled Bob to start fucking her. He found a slow, smooth steady rhythm. He looked over and found Sandy caressing her breasts with one hand and running her other up and down her slit.

He turned to look at Kathy and found her glowing with lust and pleasure. "Kiss me, you old fool," she laughed.

"I'm not old," he laughed, implicitly confessing that he was a fool. He delivered a long scorcher, and made sure her tonsils were clean. Kathy's moan was echoed by another from Sandy.

Kathy's lust and glee were all over her face. The blush of her arousal came all the way to the tops of her breasts. Noticing that, he bent low and collected a nipple in his mouth, sucking, licking and biting it.

"That is so hot," Sandy breathed, her rising arousal evident in her voice and in her equally blushed upper body.

With a wicked smile, Kathy softly said, "You know she's over there dreaming it's her you've pinned to the bed with your hard cock?" She cackled as Bob blanched. Sandy laughed too.

Bob divided his time watching the loving, pleasure-filled face of his wife with viewing the rising lust of his daughter. This was simply incredible for Bob. Finally, seeing the signs of a massive orgasm approaching in Kathy, he turned his head and said, "I hope you're close, Kitten. Your mom's gonna blow at any moment. Sandy smiled and nodded, her fingers flying in her pussy.

Kathy exploded in a powerful orgasm. She went wild under Bob, screaming and keening, thrashing and quaking. Sandy's own orgasm came seconds later. Long practice kept her voice all but still. The silent agony in her facial expression was amazing.

Bob kept going through Kathy's long orgasm. The clasping walls of Kathy's pussy sent him over the edge and he jetted great gouts of his spend deep inside her. When it was gone, he slowed and then stopped, remaining in position above Kathy. When Kathy had recovered her senses, a wicked smile appeared on her face. "What have you got up your sleeve now, witch?" he asked her with a smile.

Instead of answering Bob's question, she looked Bob in the eye and spoke to Sandy. "Sandy, darling, you're too young to have any of your dad's cock." Sandy groaned in disappointment. "But you can have all of his spend you can eat out of my pussy." Sandy cheered. Bob blushed crimson. "Only, though, if you can get your own puss into your dad's mouth."

Bob choked and gasped. Both women laughed. Kathy pushed Bob off and beside her. Remaining where she was lest her treasure spill out of her, she beckoned Sandy between her legs. Before she let Sandy begin, she motioned Bob into position behind Sandy. "On your back, Bob. Sandy, you're gonna sit on his face."

When Bob had positioned himself, Kathy said, "Sandy, when I tell you, lower yourself onto his mouth. Be careful not to break his nose when you thrash about at the end." The women giggled. Sandy lowered herself and felt Bob's tongue gently lick her. Bob put his hands on Sandy's hips to help guide her. Wordlessly, Kathy pulled Sandy's face down into her steamy snatch. Sandy seemed to know what to do next. She began gently licking and swallowing the goo.

Bob explored every bit of Sandy's pussy that he could reach. Thanks to Kathy, his tongue knew its way around a woman's sex. Bob set to work, slowly at first but with speed and pressure building. He alternated flattening his tongue along the outer lips with his pointed tongue down the middle of her slit. Sandy's clit got lots of attention.

Sandy began having trouble concentrating on her end of the bargain. By force of will, she set about doing to Kathy exactly what she felt happening to her. Soon, both women were moaning and gasping. Sandy went off first because she had been unable to concentrate on her work. The orgasm was far more powerful than she had expected. Bob was gentle during and after the orgasm but, when it was gone, he resumed in earnest.

Sandy redoubled her efforts to get her mom off. Soon enough, she sensed her mom was close. She stepped up the pace and pressure and was rewarded when Kathy keened out a powerful orgasm of her own. Thanks to her dad's expert ministrations, Sandy's second orgasm followed close behind.

Sandy rolled to one side of Kathy. Bob moved to Kathy's other side. "That was wonderful," breathed Sandy.

"Not too bad at all," chuckled Kathy.

"You guys are gonna kill me," snorted Bob. They all laughed. "I love you both more than I can tell you." Both women told him -- and each other -- of their love as well.

"You don't mind sleeping with us tonight, do you Sandy?" asked Kathy.

"Oh, I suppose," Sandy giggled.

Soon all three were asleep.

There was an amazing change in attitude in the kids recruited by Dave. Those that jumped at the chance to proctor the adults, and perhaps go on to organize the paintball, pulled out all the stops in their efforts for themselves and for their teams.

Seven students had declined Dave's offer and had instead elected to withdraw from the Program. Together with the team whose oldest male member had been expelled earlier in the week, that made eight under-strength teams. Under Amy's guidance, the eight teams were reorganized as four teams of seven members and two teams of six members.

The day was otherwise pretty routine for most people. By the end of the week, more than a few of the kids were doing standing somersaults in the hallways in order to show off. No handstands were evident yet, though. Sarah Edwards was involved in a very public argument with her former boyfriend, who wouldn't seem to take 'no' for an answer. It didn't turn into a fistfight, but it was close. Sarah didn't need anyone else to defend her. The young man finally admitted defeat.

Bob noticed that his stamina was increasing as he ran and swam daily. The other proctors commented that they, too, were getting stronger.

John called Jean and suggested another Core Group meeting for the following Tuesday evening. Jean said she'd pass along his suggestion to Bob, Amy, Sarah and Michael. If any had a conflict, she'd let John know.

So far, nearly two dozen adults had signed up for participation in the Program. Jean got the school staff, including the lower grade teachers, to stay through the evening on a rotating basis. No one of them would have to be there all evening very often. Some of the staff decided to participate on the night they were on duty anyway. Jean hoped that more of them would take the opportunity to participate full time.