I walk into Mr. Dodd’s law firm. Bridget is waiting for me. “Master, your Aunt Esther and her lawyer are in the conference room waiting for you.”

I smile like I know a secret. “Relax, Bridget. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Yes there is, Master. Your Aunt Claire is your Aunt Esther’s lawyer, and she’s bursting with energy. And your pheromones won’t work on them.”

Now I’m worried. “That’s not good.”

“But before you go into Conference Room A, Sherry and Virgilia insist on talking to you in Conference Room B.”

I walk into Room B. Sherry and Virgilia are dressed in stripper clothes.

Sherry runs up to me and grabs my hand. “Master, you have to win the inher—the inheri—the stuff that dead people leave behind. You GOTTA win, Master!”

I ask, “Why must I win, Sherry?”

“Because your Aunt Esther, she’s—Virgilia?”

Virgilia walks over to me. “Because Aunt Esther is inimical to our happiness and financial well-being. Whereas Master, you are benevolent in nature. Plus, you like looking at our tits.”

“Ladies, I’ll try. But when it comes to the law, I don’t know the rules, much less how to create tactics for them. Things could go badly.”

“Master,” says Sherry, “you don’t understand! Virgilia and I could starve!”

“Probably not,” Virgilia corrects. “But Master, our best hope is that you are the relative who inherits, and you then feel generous toward us.” Virgilia drops to her knees. “I believe in your goodness, Master.” Virgilia digs my cock out of my pants. “So I’m going to thank you in advance.”

Virgilia’s mouth on my cock feels really, truly good. But it’s wrong to take advantage of her. “Stop, Virgilia.”

Sherry shakes her head. “Forget it, Master. Once Virgilia gets a cock in her mouth, she won’t stop. And she’s very good at this—she reads books.”

Virgilia’s blowjob does in fact feel fantastic. Just before Virgilia pops my cork, Sherry says in a sad voice, “Remember, Master, me and Virgilia don’t even inherit halfsies on the double-headed dildo.”

I can’t reply; I’m too excited. The excitement builds, my dick feels truly wonderful—

I was 6’3” now, and my chest was wedge-shaped. I was muscular enough now that I could win at arm-wrestling against almost every guy in the school; only “Red” Baxter maybe could still beat me. Fatima definitely liked how I looked—she was touching me and stroking me all the time I was trying to shower.

Once I moved in front of the mirror, Fatima said, “There are times when I enjoy being a bound djinni.” She stroked my rock-hard chest and arm. “Mercy and kindness, I do good work sometimes.”

When I picked up the shaver, Fatima began stroking my cock. She said, “I am your obedient djinni, Master. If you tell me to stop this, I must stop. No matter how much I might want to pleasure you slowly, I must always obey your every command. No matter how much I might want to feel your large cock ejaculate powerfully, one word of command from you, Master, and I must stop.”

No surprise, I took more time shaving than I usually did. But after a few minutes, I told Fatima to stop her excellent handjob, because I had things to do. But before I sent Fatima back into the lamp, I gave her the sexiest kiss I had ever given a woman.

Before I donned my bookbag, I threw inside it the USB stick that had many of Uncle Warren’s dirty pictures downloaded onto it. Something that Sherry had said in my sexy dream had given me an idea how to fight Aunt Esther and her lawyer.

Aunt Esther, I have you now. Your greedy ass is going down!

At 7:15 a.m., my women and I were gathered inside the main doors at Plato Smith. I frowned at Bellina Mott, who was both my harem slave and my English teacher.

She looked panicked. “Did I do wrong, Marvin? You told me to dress professionally when I’m at school.”

“I did, I told you exactly that. But as of now, you’re no longer in the Abzug Society, so I expect you to dress more girly. I hate the Hillary Clinton look, got it?”

She hung her head. “Yes, Marvin.”

“Good. Now kiss me goodbye and start your day.” Bellina gave to me, her student, a kiss that probably broke twenty-three school-district rules. Then she walked away from me, her ass swinging.

Next, I turned my attention to Stephanie and Diane, my newbies. “Whoa, Diane, I didn’t expect you to look this hot!” I exclaimed.

Diane was blushing red. “Well, I went to Kelly Brown’s house and borrowed a few things, and I asked my sister if I could borrow her shoes. Then I changed clothes this morning in the bathroom of a J-Mart.”

I beamed at the blushing blonde. “You asked to borrow things, Diane? Good for you.” Diane was shy like the ocean was wet. In class, she never raised her hand, and she blushed whenever she was called on. Despite being a natural blonde, Diane was invisible in any class she attended.

My other three women were each dressed sexy (at least a little bit). New recruit Stephanie was wearing a denim miniskirt that was too short, and a light-green blouse with three buttons unbuttoned. Elena and Kristin apparently were in friendly competition now to see who could make my eyeballs melt fastest. Elena was wearing a blue V-neck cocktail dress, and Kristin was wearing garters and stockings.

I took my harem to the school office, to tell Mr. Bender that my women now included Stephanie and Diane. Mr. Bender didn’t argue with me. Perhaps this was because I was now taller than him (if only by half an inch), and I was now clearly stronger than him.

Outside the office, I gathered my four women together and said, “In a moment, I’ll walk each of you to your lockers, then I’ll walk each of you to your first-period class. But as you walk down the halls, I want every person who sees you to know that I’ve fucked you. Kristin, show the newbies how to walk sexy.”

Once we started walking the hallways, I put Stephanie and Diane on either side of me, with Elena and Kristin following behind. We must have been impressive—wherever we went that morning, nearby students and teachers went silent and stared at us.

In first-period Physics, I was trying to pay attention to Mr. Lloyd’s lecture. But Jim-Something would not be stopped. “Say, Marvin, the word is that you fucked fifty women last night, including teachers from Oscar Grant.”

“That’s not true, Jim,” I said.

I suddenly realized that the classroom had gone dead silent. Everyone, including Mr. Lloyd, was looking at me.

Mr. Lloyd said, “Marvin, the boys in the class won’t be able to listen to my lectures till you put this subject to bed. What exactly happened in the Home Ec Lab yesterday?”

I didn’t feel like discussing it. “Maybe nothing happened. Maybe it’s only wild rumors going around.”

Mr. Lloyd gave me a “you can do better than that” look. “Marvin, your statement is refuted by the scientific evidence. There were many used condoms thrown into the Home Ec Lab’s trashcan yesterday.”

“Wicked!“ a male voice exclaimed.

Before I was forced to come clean, the door opened and an Office Helper stepped in. “Mr. Bender needs to see Marvin Harper right now,” she said.

As I stood up and walked toward the door, Jim-Something started singing the theme from “Cops.” Several students joined in the singing, which didn’t help my mood.

By the time I got to Mr. Bender’s office, I’d imagined three different Doomsday scenarios. Fortunately, all three were wrong.

In Mr. Bender’s office were Natasha and a girl in a plaid skirt. I didn’t see any problem—Natasha’s jeans weren’t ripped, and the girl’s skirt was “fingertips length.” Then I looked again. Holy shit!

Yesterday, I had told Harold that the purple satin shirt “looked gay.” Well, this went way beyond looking gay.

Mr. Bender asked me, “Is Harold Miller one of your friends?” Mr. Bender’s voice was strained.

I asked Harold, “Why on earth are you wearing a skirt?”

He said, “Natasha asked me to, and she’s the boss.”

Natasha said, “Not is skirt. Is kilt.”

I asked Harold, “Are you Scottish?”

By now Harold was blushing. “Not at all.”

I couldn’t believe I was having this conversation. So I was groping around for what to say next. “How tall are you now?” I asked Harold.

But it was Natasha who answered. “He is 168 centimeters.”

“Five-six,” Harold clarified. Then he leaned toward me and murmured, “I’ve stopped shrinking, for all the good it’s done me.”

Natasha was pouting when she turned to Mr. Bender. “If ‘Red’ Baxter is this wearink, you would is sayink ‘yes,’ yes?”

I said, “‘Red’ Baxter has red hair and big muscles. He’d look like a true Scotsman, wearing that. Whereas Harold looks like a girl. Geez, what guy has hair that long except one of the druggies?”

Mr. Bender looked at me and said, “Is Harold a friend of yours, or not? Do I allow this farce?”

So it came down to me. This was Fatima’s wish-grant playing out, and I didn’t know what would happen if I were to thwart it. Maybe all that would happen would be that Natasha felt annoyed with me. Or maybe all my wishes would get canceled, besides a rift opening up in the space-time continuum.

But hey, there was an easier way to answer this. I gestured Harold to the far corner of the room. Natasha tried to join us, but I strongly gestured Stay put.

In a low voice, I asked Harold, “Suppose you woke up tomorrow and everything was put back. You were the starting quarterback and I was 5’2”, and nobody but you and I remembered these crazy days. And tomorrow, somehow I was forced to wear a skirt to school, but somehow you had the power to stop my humiliation. What would you do?”

Girly-Harold glared at me. “Are you kidding? After you humiliated me yesterday in front of Natasha and Anna Kay, grabbing my bookbag out of my hands and picking it up one-handed? You showed-off big time, and you made me look like a weak baby. Tomorrow I’d not only keep you in that skirt, I’d go to the drama teacher and borrow a blond wig to plop on your head.”

I gave Girly-Harold a cruel smile. “Thank you for being honest.”

Then I walked back to Natasha and Mr. Bender. “Harold is not my friend, but Natasha is, and Harold belongs to Natasha the same way that Kristin and them belong to me. So between now and Graduation Day, Mr. Bender, whatever Natasha wants Harold to wear, let him wear it.”

I glanced back at Harold. His face was chalk-white.

Hours later, school had ended for the day and I was at Mr. Dodd’s law firm. I’d asked Mr. Dodd for the use of a computer with graphics software, a USB port, and a printer; I’d explained only that I had “some pictures to print out.”

I’d also hinted to Mr. Dodd that the pictures might upset his employees, and so privacy would be really appreciated. Mr. Dodd had sent me to a spare conference room.

I took out the USB stick and put it in the computer. On the memory stick were decrypted files that on Monday I’d copied from Uncle Warren’s computer: text files, Word files, database files, and as many recent dirty-picture graphics files as the two-gig USB stick could hold.

Uncle Warren, it turned out, had been persistent about filenames identifying the people in his photos. I was able to find five pictures of Sherry, and seven of Virgilia.

It turned out that the earliest picture of Virgilia was captioned “Virgilia O’Keefe handing out feminist pamphlets at Nimfo Club.” The woman who was pictured had Stripper-Virgilia’s face (minus the false eyelashes and the puffed-up lips), and had an ordinary body. I needed to ask Virgilia about that sometime.

There were two photos of Sherry clearly giving a blowjob to Uncle Warren, where I could see faces and half a cock. Ditto, I found two such pictures with Virgilia. Perfect, just what I was looking for.

As I was printing those four pictures out, the conference-room door opened and a twenty-something blonde walked in. She was wearing law-office clothing.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I didn’t know anyone was in here. I’m looking for a phone to use. Stupid me, didn’t charge my cell.” Her shoulders hunched as she said that, is if she expected someone else to trash-talk her if she didn’t bad-mouth herself first.

I said, “You don’t look familiar. Did Mr. Dodd just hire you?”

“Oh, I don’t work for David Dodd. I work for Mr. Northcutt, and we’re waiting for David Dodd’s client to show up.”

Oh shit, I thought. Carefully I asked, “Who is Mr. Dodd’s client?”

“Marvin Harper. He recently turned...” She looked at me and said, “Oh god.”

Now I was pissed. Someone who worked for Aunt Esther’s law firm, “accidentally” walking in while I was trying to help defend my case? Yeah, right. “Get out now,” I growled.

“Yes, I’m going, I’m going!” she said. She walked to the door, put her hand on the doorknob, then stopped.

“Mr. Harper?” she said.

“Yes?” I said, in a tone of voice that meant You aren’t gone yet?

“Mr. Harper, I’m sorry for what we’re putting you through. You don’t deserve this, it’s wrong.”

Before I could reply, she was walking out the door.