********************************

Wednesday

Camilla sat at her father's bedside the next morning and gently shook him awake. He moaned and whimpered. Clearly he was still in a good deal of pain.

"Can you move OK?" she asked, rubbing her hand on his back.  "Can you stand up?"

He whimpered some more and shook his head.

"At least give it a try," she encouraged firmly.  Last night, she'd had to carry him from the couch to his bed, but she was hoping he'd recovered somewhat.

He clearly REALLY didn't want to, but after a little more prodding from Camilla, he ever so slowly slid to the edge of the bed and tried to lower his leg.  "Owww!" he yelped sharply, his face contorted in pain. His leg slipped a little farther and he cried out even louder. "Owwww!  Owwwwww!!!"

"OK, honey," she soothed, helping his leg back up. "That's OK.  You just rest there."  She patted his back again and rose.  "I have to head out early today, but I'll have someone come over and take care of you."

She found it interesting that she still felt no inclination whatsoever to apologize to him. Rather, his depleted state gave her a warm fuzzy feeling, because she knew it meant progress. She was excited to see where things went from here. 

* * *

The house was quiet for the next hour or so, then he heard a knock across the house followed by the front door opening. "Mark?" a familiar male voice called out.

Mark knew who it was immediately.  He tensed up, gritted his teeth, and growled.

Phil appeared in the doorway.  "Mark ... how are you doing?" he asked concernedly. 

"Leave me alone,” Mark hissed, waving him away.  After Phil tried to defend these women last time, Mark would never be able to forgive him.

"I've been through this, too,” Phil reminded.  “I can help you."

"You're a traitor!" Mark spat.  "You're here to defend Camilla – aren't you!?"

"No!  … Well, it's … complicated."

Mark grunted furiously and rolled onto his side, away from the door. "Just get the hell out!"

Phil didn't move. "Mark ... you need to understand something ..."

"I don't need to understand anything from you! This is my house - now, leave!"

Normally mild-mannered Phil got angry. "Dammit, Mark, you're always so stubborn!  Give me just two minutes to say my piece, and then I'll leave if you still want!"

Mark gave a bitter frown but stayed silent this time as Phil pulled a chair up to the side of the bed, on the other side of where Mark was facing.

After a long, angry pause, Mark heard Phil begin slowly, softly, "You know my cousin Geoff was a scientist?" Phil began. "A neurochemist.  He worked in one of the government labs that tried to figure out what was causing these women to change.  Ever hear about these labs?"

Mark didn't reply. 

"Maybe not," Phil concluded. "They tried to avoid public attention when they could.  But you may have heard the rumors that this was all caused by a virus?  Well, those rumors are true.  According to Geoff, no one knows where the virus came from, but we know for sure it is a virus causing it – an airborne virus, highly contagious, almost impossible to keep from spreading.  Men carry it too, but it only affects women.  There's still so much we don't know about it; but we know some.  It changes women’s metabolism and physical characteristics … and it has powerful psychological effects as well – which you already know.”

Phil cleared his throat and shifted in his seat.  "After several weeks,” he went on, “Geoff and other researchers around the world began to learn more and more about how the virus was altering women's thought patterns.  It messes with their brain chemistry, Mark, affecting whole regions of the brain that control emotions – empathy, compassion – and sense of right and wrong, views towards others … and particularly the way they view the opposite sex.  And I'm not talking just minor changes. They've done brain scans of female patients before and after the virus runs its course.  Mark, the scans look completely different.  There’s all sorts of stuff happening in there that shouldn’t be.

"And the results are catastrophic. They tried more psychological tests on these women than you could ever believe: psychiatric examinations, behavioral testing, therapy ... you name it.  They tried drugs and hormones and everything they could think of ... but none of it helped at all!  No matter what they tried, or for how long, nothing could change their minds back to normal.  The only drug that showed any promise actually turned patients sort of ... insane.  Delirious; schizophrenic. Some scientists suggested surgery as the next step – but that was even more dangerous, and the research programs were shut down too soon anyway. There was too much risk to the patients ... and maybe they're right. Whatever they were doing wasn't working. And it's been declared illegal to continue work on this ever since."

Mark squeezed his eyes shut; his headache grew even stronger. "Why are you telling me this?" he demanded. 

"Don't you see? Women aren't choosing to act like this; they don't have a choice at all! It's the damned virus, Mark!  Women see us as inferiors now - not equals!  It's not a matter of choice; their brains are hard-wired, man; they literally can't see things any other way!"

A shudder ran through Mark, as he slowly rolled over toward Phil, wincing in pain. "There’s always a choice," he insisted weakly. 

Phil, with sympathetic eyes, shook his head sadly. "Think about how kind and thoughtful my wife used to be.  Camilla, too.  And all those other women in your life. There's no way they would all turn against us like this ... not if they had any say in it.  They simply can’t control it."

Mark felt chills again, even under the sheets. "But ..."  He fell silent for a while, then sighed softly. "So ... when will it end?"

Phil slumped his shoulders. "It might never end. But ... who knows. Maybe someone somewhere is still researching a cure. Or maybe our bodies will develop antibodies and... fight it.  Geoff said that's theoretically possible. But, I mean…"

"Unlikely."

Phil nodded. "Almost impossible.  I'm sorry, but we'll just have to live with this... forever."

A heavy silence filled the room.  Neither of them knew what to say next.  For Mark, this new information did little more than confirm what he'd already expected. It just made the truth harder to ignore, made it seem even more concrete, and devastating. 

He did his best to hold back tears.  He turned to Phil and slowly began to see his old friend in a different light: not a coward, really.  Maybe not even a sellout.  If anything, he was simply a realist; a survivor.  Exactly the type of person Mark needed advice from.

He felt his inhibitions fading away, replaced by desperation.  He sat up and looked to his friend with bloodshot eyes.  “Help me,” he blurted, almost frantically.  “Please … please tell me what I have to do to not get spanked.  Please tell me!!”

Phil knelt beside the bed with consoling eyes.  “I can’t tell you,” he admitted.  “Not specifically.”

“What!?!” Mark asked.  He grabbed his friend’s collar with a crazed expression.  “Why!?!  You HAVE to tell me!!  I … I can’t take another spanking, Phil!  I just fucking CAN’T!!  I’ll lose my mind!!”

Phil patted his hand and pulled it away gently.  “I know, buddy.  Believe me, I know.  But you have to understand that they … well … no, I shouldn’t even say that.”

“PLEASE, Phil!!!  For the love of god!!”

Phil took a deep breath and frowned.  “I’m taking a big risk here … They’d rather you figure this out on your own, and all …”  He bit his lip then said slowly, “OK, I’ll only say it once.  Obeying their orders is good and all – well, it’s mandatory – but what they REALLY want is for you to do things for them they haven’t asked you to do.  Spend as much time as you can thinking about ways you can surprise her and do the unexpected.  I’m telling you, that really goes a long way toward convincing them you’ve really changed.  That’s what they really want to see.”

Mark absorbed this information, tried to internalize it as much as he could.  “What kind of things?” he asked nervously.  “Example??”

But Phil shook his head and flat-out refused.  “It has to be something YOU think of,” he kept repeating to Mark.  “That’s the key.”

Mark groaned and rolled his head back, feeling incredible pressure now.  What kind of things!?!  How will I know what’s the RIGHT thing – what’s good enough!?!

Feeling exhausted and defeated, he thanked Phil then asked for some peace and quiet.  Phil obliged and even started on Mark’s chores for him.  He really was a good friend.

Mark tried to sleep again, to escape the pain – but his mind keep whirring, going through anything and everything he could think of, searching for the right idea, while wallowing in nervous despair.

Phil returned an hour later.  "I have an idea," Mark told him, wincing as he rose.  He quietly explained it to Phil, who agreed instantly.  It was a good plan.  It would work.  It had to.

* * *

After an entire day of exhausting, nonstop work, Mark heard the car pull in, and he nervously hobbled to the kitchen – still unable to really walk straight yet, because of his bottom.  He waited anxiously for Camilla to come in.

His powerful daughter appeared in the doorway.  “Oh – hello, Mark.”

He gulped.  “H-Hello, Camilla.  H … How was your day?”

“It was good!  How about yours?  What have you been up to?”

Hesitation wasn’t an option.  “I’ve been … cleaning,” he informed her quickly.  “A-As I should be.”  He winced.  “And I also started planning a … a little surprise.”

“Oh?”  Her initially cautious mood turned intrigued.  “What is it?”

He hesitated.  “Should I tell you now, or keep it a surprise?” he asked carefully.

Camilla smiled.  “Hmm … tell me now.”  She laughed.  “I don’t really trust you enough yet to let you keep a secret, haha!”

He suppressed a wince.  “That’s … u-understandable, Camilla.  OK.  I … I thought I might host a dinner for us and our friends this Saturday – j-just like last week, except no sports.  Us guys will be, um, a-at you girls’ beck and call all night – whatever you girls want to do.”

“Wow!  That’s a FANTASTIC idea!” Camilla praised, setting her purse down then coming up to him.  Her mood seemed light and jubilant – but he still felt naturally afraid, eyeing those arms of hers that didn’t look that strong, but that might as well have been made of solid steel.  He tried to hide his unrest.

“But,” she went on, resting her hand casually on his shoulder, “are you sure you can handle it?  The food is going to have to be fabulous, and to be honest you’re not the best cook.”

Mark nodded.  He’d already thought of that.  “Phil started teaching me to cook today.  He and Alan are coming over the next few days too, to get me up to speed.”

“Hmmm.  But it takes much more than just cooking skills to pull off an evening like last week.  A host has to be on top of everything – constantly serving guests, sensing when to bring out the next course, when to move things along, anticipate guests’ needs …”

“Phil’s started giving me hospitality lessons too, to help with that exact thing.  We were actually about to start another lesson when – oh, here he is.”

Phil walked into the room briskly.  “Ms. Lawrence!” he said warmly.  “Sorry to not greet you as soon as you came into your house – that was very rude of me.  And apologies for my appearance.”

“Not at all!”  She grinned at his dusty shirt.  “I’m certain you were busy with important things.”  She laughed.  “And call me ‘Camilla’, for goodness’ sake!”

“Yes, Camilla … ma’am,” Phil replied, without irony.  It brought more chuckles from her.

Mark felt it was the proper time to speak up.  “Phil has been helping me clean,” he said, in full disclosure.  “Of course,” he added hastily, “I’ve been working as hard as I can myself.  I just … wasn’t sure the house would be ready in time with just me working.”  Mark also winced as he shifted his weight, his bottom still paining him greatly.  Camilla seemed to pick up on this.

“That’s perfectly acceptable to me,” she assured her father.  “And probably smart, yes.  I have to ask, though: Phil, was any of this your idea?  To have Mark host a get-together, I mean?”

Mark began to reply, but Camilla calmly raised a hand and said, “I want Phil to answer, please.”

Mark gulped and fell silent.  But Phil rightly replied, “No, ma’am – the idea was all his; even the cooking lessons and the rest.”

Satisfied with the veracity of Phil’s response, Camilla turned to Mark and beamed.  “Well, I’m certainly very impressed so far.  Of course, there’s a long way to go before we can consider the gathering a success … but it appears you know that.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Mark replied nervously.  “U-Um … y-yes, Camilla.”

She nodded.  “Alright.  So … I hope all this preparation wasn’t at the expense of tonight’s dinner …”

Mark shook his head.  “Dinner’s already in the oven – chicken and wild rice casserole with a light tarragon alfredo sauce.”  It had taken Mark six tries to get that memorized.  “Phil helped me make it.  I’ll start it baking, now that you’re home.”

Camilla looked extremely pleased.  “Good boy,” she said playfully, rubbing his shoulder tenderly before heading off.

Mark got chills – and not just from fear, this time.  It actually felt almost good to be praised like that, as crazy as that seemed.  He glanced at Phil, who was observing Mark’s reaction with a knowing look.  Mark winced, not sure he liked what was becoming of him.  But it was still infinitely better than the harsh alternative. Thank god for that.

********************************

Saturday

Chloe looked up from her phone.  “Um … Dad?” she asked, when he rushed by again in the living room.  He gave a brief grunt and didn’t slow down.

Chloe exchanged shrugs with her younger sister, then approached Camilla.  “What’s Dad up to?”

“He’s very busy today – we’re having our friends over tonight for dinner and games.  There’s a lot for a host to prepare.”

Chloe blinked.  “Oh.  Um … should we, like, help him or anything?  I mean, he’s been cleaning for hours and hours …”

“No,” Camilla said firmly.  “I think this is something he needs to do for himself.”

Chloe seemed puzzled but nodded.  She lingered, though.  “Umm … there’s something else I wanna tell you.”

“Yeah?  What?”

Chloe hesitated.  “Maybe we should talk alone …”

Camilla gave an intrigued look and led her to a quiet place where they wouldn’t be disturbed.

* * *

The moment of truth was upon him.  First Hana and Ray arrived, then Lynn and Phil, then Carly and Alan, and finally Nestor.  Mark hadn’t really wanted to invite Nestor – he was still certainly a friend, but knowing that Camilla had slept over with him recently, Mark didn’t particularly want to see that unfold again.  But his goal above all else was to make Camilla happy – that was ALL that mattered to him – and Nestor’s presence certainly did that.

He tried to ignore the flirtatious banter that was already starting up between the two of them, as he hurried back to marshal the activities in the kitchen.  His guy friends were all helping him, but he knew full well that this evening was his affair and he was in charge – which meant he was also on the hook if something went wrong.  But that was exactly what hours and hours of practice was intended to prevent.

And … it worked!  With just a few near-catastrophes along the way, the meal preparations came together excellently.  The women watched and gossiped from their seats as the men carried the food out and took their places beside their respective wives.

“Looks splendid!” Hana praised.

“I know – my gosh!” Carly exclaimed.  “I didn’t think you had it in ya, Mark.”  The other women laughed and agreed.

With everyone else seated, Mark remained standing and smiled humbly.  “Thank you.  Is there anything else I can get anyone?  Hana – more wine?”

“I’m good, thanks!”

“Anyone else?”

“No thank you, Mark,” Carly replied warmly.

He was about to sit at the last remaining chair – not the one he’d intended to sit in; Nestor had taken that seat, next to Camilla.  And Camilla’s hand was already on Nestor’s lap.  Mark didn’t know how he felt about that.  Well, he did know, but he would never say it.

The only open chair was next to Phil, on the end of the table.  He started to sit, but Camilla spoke up, “Oh – there is one thing, sweetie.”

“Yes, Camilla?” Mark asked his daughter attentively, standing back up.

“Could you bring one more chair to the table?  I think we’ll have one more person join us.”

“Another?”  This was a total curveball – Mark had planned the evening exhaustively, preparing just the right amount of food for the 9 of them, carefully arranging the table, setting everything up just so.  He was quite rattled, and forgot his manners a bit.  “Um … who?”

His daughter smiled.  “Could you invite Chloe to the table?”

“Chloe??  But I thought this dinner was for adults only, and the kids were—“  He cut himself off, horrified at his rude rambling.  “Sorry,” he hastened.  “I’ll … um … r-right away.”

From Camilla’s expression, he had barely dodged a bullet.  He still might get reprimanded for it tonight – oh god!!  He couldn’t understand it, though – this mucked with all his meticulously laid-out plans for the evening.  What gives??  Chloe’s older than Ryan and Kayla, but she’s still just a high schooler; shouldn’t she eat on her own tonight like her siblings??

“Remember the chair!” Camilla called out, as he entered the hallway.

“Y-Yes, Camilla!”

He knocked on Chloe’s closed door, and stood in front of her uncomfortably as she opened it.  “I’d, uh …” he began.  “I’d like … I mean, we’d … um …”  He gulped.  “Would you like to join us for dinner?”

His second-eldest daughter was taken aback.  “Huh?  Tonight?  Why?  I thought …”

Yeah, me too, he thought awkwardly.  “Please – come join!” he said, trying to sound friendly and, well, normal.

She seemed as confused as he was, but she trailed him back to the dining room and without further question.

Camilla laughed when they emerged.  “Forgetting something?” she asked Mark directly.

“Huh?  I—oh.”  He blushed and hustled back down the hallway, past Chloe’s quizzical gaze.

“He’s getting you a chair,” Camilla explained.

“Oh,” he heard Chloe reply.  As he pulled another wooden chair out of the closet and carried it back, he watched her look right at him and ask aloud, “I’m assuming inviting me to dinner wasn’t his idea, was it?”

“How astute!” Hana giggled.

Mark, crestfallen, entered the room as Camilla stood up with a smile.  “Nope – not his idea at all.”  As he carried the chair to the nearest corner of the table, next to Carly, Camilla interjected, “Oh, I think here’s better.”  She gestured to a spot on the other side of the table – right around the corner from Mark’s seat. True, there was a little more space there.  He wasn’t thrilled about Chloe sitting near him, but he did as he was told.

Carly eyed him with surprise giving way to understanding, and then amusement.  She was about to sit there when Camilla came around the table and said to Chloe, “I think it’s time we explain, eh?”

Chloe’s face lit up.  “I think I see,” she said, smiling.

Camilla stood next to Chloe and addressed the table.  Mark wasn’t sure if he was supposed to sit or stand, so he just stayed standing nearby.

“Chloe got some big news from the doctor the other day,” Camilla announced proudly.  “Go ahead, Chloe.”

Chloe erupted in excitement, proclaiming, “I started my Growth!!”

The women all shrieked and clapped in delight, including Camilla.  Even the men joined in too, politely. Only Mark refrained.  He was far too shocked.  It’s too early! he thought to himself.  She wasn’t supposed to start for another year!

“The doctors say her metabolism just couldn’t wait to start!” Camilla declared, answering his unspoken question.  “She’ll be one of the very first in her class.”

“Congratulations!!” Carly chimed in.

“We’re so happy for you!!” echoed Hana and Lynn.

Mark’s head was swimming as his two eldest daughters hugged each other, almost like a proud mother and beloved daughter.

“How much have you grown?” Carly asked.

“Over two inches!” Chloe beamed, her eyes flitting to Mark briefly as she disengaged from Camilla.

It was hard to tell with her standing next to her older sister – Chloe was still at least a foot shorter than Camilla – but as she stepped up to her chair, she did seem a bit taller than usual, now that Mark thought about it.  Her eyes were up to his mouth now, where they should have been no higher than his chin.  It won’t be long, until …

He shuddered, not wanting to think about that.  Just as he grabbed the back of his chair, Camilla suggested, “Actually, Mark, why don’t you pull your chair around next to hers?  There’s room.”

He looked at Camilla in surprise.  “Umm … is there??” he responded dubiously, too flustered to filter his words.

He saw more than one woman cock an eyebrow at him – including Camilla.  He inhaled sharply and amended, “Y-Yes, of course there is!  How s-silly of me!”  As Chloe sat down, Mark hastily squeezed his chair in behind him and shimmied in the rest of the way.  He was basically pinned between Chloe and the leg of the table.  Our elbows are touching!  This is ridiculous!!

“Much better!” Camilla declared, taking her own seat again.  “I could have used a little less griping, though,” she added flatly, looking right at him.

All eyes were on him now.  His face turned red hot.  “S-Sorry, C-C-Camilla,” he said, through dry lips.

Camilla gave a ‘Hmph’ and moved on with some idle conversation with the others.  Mark shifted in his seat uncomfortably, bumping his daughter’s elbow in the process.  “Sorry,” he muttered.

Chloe giggled, turning her sparkling, mischievous eyes to him.

“What?” he grumbled, taking a bite of pasta.

“You apologize a lot now,” she said quietly, for only him to hear.  She giggled again, while taking a bite of her own.

He scowled.  “So??” he replied sharply.  Fortunately, the volume level of conversations around the table had increased enough that no one but Chloe heard him.

“Sooo …” she replied slyly, “I like it.  Do it again.”

“Do what?”

“Apologize.  For, um …”  She laughed.  “For being a dick all these years.”

“WHAT!??”  He dropped the next forkful of pasta onto his lap.  A few heads turned toward him, but he shook his head dismissively and they turned away.  Camilla’s gaze lingered a bit longer but did the same.

Fortunately, the napkin on his lap caught the food.  He cleaned it up and hissed angrily, “I am NOT apologizing for … for …”  He grunted.  “Don’t be ridiculous!”

“Oh, I’m being ridiculous?” Chloe mocked.  “Why don’t we ask Camilla if you ought to apologize?”  She grinned and raised her arm, calling out loudly: “Hey, Camilla!  I—“

He hastily pulled down on her wrist.  By the time Camilla turned her head, Chloe’s arm was back below the table.  “OK,” he hissed quietly.

“Never mind, Camilla!” Chloe said, smiling sweetly at her big sister.  Camilla seemed to give a little knowing grin of her own before turning away.

His face was hot as Chloe turned to him and cocked an expectant eyebrow.  He swallowed his pride and muttered, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For … being a dick.”

“For how long?”

“For … all these years.”  He grimaced.  He felt unclean, unworthy – like he’d violated another sacred, inviolate law of parenting.  He felt like a failure.  It just wasn’t worth fighting, though.

Chloe was pleased.  “Oooh!  This is so fun!!”  As he turned forward, he felt a peck on his cheek – she’d just kissed him!  The nerve..!!

It took him a second to realize that the conversations had mostly died down, and all eyes had drifted toward him and Chloe.  “How sweet!” Lynn exclaimed.  She seemed to mean it, too.  She couldn’t hear the actual conversation he and Chloe were having, but still …

It didn’t seem to matter.  “That’s exactly what I hoped would happen!” Camilla declared proudly.  “I’d love it if Chloe and Mark developed a closer relationship,” she explained to the group.  “Especially now.”

“That’s why you sat us together!” Chloe realized aloud.  Mark had just figured that out too.

“Yep!” Camilla verified.

“So I’m, like, higher on the totem pole now,” Chloe asked, “‘cuz I’m growing?”

Camilla nodded.  “Higher than you were before, yes.”

“But, higher than him?” Chloe asked, staring pointedly right at her father.

Camilla pursed her lips.  “Let’s not get into who’s higher than who.  All that matters is I’m really in charge.  In any case, I think it’s good to embrace the coming changes – don’t you agree?”  She looked around the table.

“Absolutely!” Carly confirmed.

“No reason not to!” Hana weighed in, as Lynn nodded in agreement.

Chloe excitedly looped her arm through his and pulled it tightly.  “So can I tell him what to do now??”

Christ, she’s insistent.  Mark turned pale.  He badly wanted to flee.  He held his breath as Camilla and the other women laughed.

“I love her spirit!” Carly praised.

Camilla was also smiling – but at least she said explicitly, “No.  Not yet.”

“But I will get to tell him what to do eventually, right!?!”

The women laughed again.  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, OK?” Camilla said diplomatically.  But Mark swore he saw a special look in Camilla’s eye, that told them all they needed to know.

Mark wheezed despairingly.  Two of my daughters, lording over me.  And … punishing me.  And Camilla’s always been the level-headed one – Chloe will be even worse!  So much worse.

Chloe clutched his arm with both hands now and squeezed.  “Sweet!  OK, so when??” she demanded.

Camilla threw her head back and laughed.  “You just won’t drop it, will you?”  She looked around the table.  “Any ideas?”

“How about when she’s taller than him?” Lynn suggested immediately.

“Or when she’s stronger than him,” Hana proposed.  “Whichever comes first.”

Camilla shrugged.  “Alright.  I’ll consider it.” 

Chloe squealed in delight.  “Sweeeet!!!  I don’t think that’ll take very long – I’m already stronger than I was last week!”  As if to demonstrate, she tightened her grip on his arm even more, making him yelp – partly in surprise, and partly in actual pain.  He wouldn’t have thought she would be that strong.  When he looked at her arms, he saw a pretty noticeable ridge between two visible bands of muscle.  He remembered that women’s muscles became a lot denser and stronger even than they looked.  It might not take long at all …

His efforts to keep the pain out of his expression seemed to amuse the women.  Eventually Chloe eased up, and Camilla added seriously, “In any case, I do want you two to work on becoming close.  Develop a special bond.  I think things will go much better down the road if you two really get to know each other and learn to cooperate now.”

“That’s a fantastic idea!” Lynn praised.  “Build a foundation to a strong relationship later.”

“Precisely,” Camilla affirmed, then turned back to Chloe and Mark.  “I’ll be assigning duties to both of you together – chores, errands, etcetera.  It’s up to you two to divvy them up between yourselves and also the kids.  And no griping!  Try to get along.”

Mark was flabbergasted, but Chloe cheered.  “Oh, we will!  Right, Mark?  Just like best friends, eh!?”

He could sense the layers of sarcasm in her voice, as she leaned in to kiss his cheek again.  He tried not to pull away; he tried not to cry.  He managed both … so far.  Surely they can all see Chloe’s sarcasm, right!?!  If they do, they don’t seem to care.

“Really smart move,” Hana praised Camilla.  “I have a neighbor who tried something similar, and …”

Mark’s listening was interrupted by his daughter’s lips brushing against his ear.  “Ready to ‘get along’, Daddy??” Chloe whispered mockingly, right in his ear.  “We’ll pretend for now … until I’m stronger than you.  Then, you’re gonna wish you were never born …”

A soft cry escaped his lips.  He wanted to be anywhere in the world – anywhere!! – but here.  He squirmed and tried to slide away from her, but Chloe’s arm slung around behind him and rested on his shoulders.  She was still so much smaller than Camilla, her arm much narrower and shorter … but that would change, soon.  Way too soon.

“Are you shaking, Daddy?” Chloe whispered mockingly, squeezing his shoulder.  “You’re not AFRAID of me, are you??”  She chuckled.  “Well, you sure as hell should be.”

He put on his bravest face possible, when Camilla tapped the table in his direction.  “It’s great you two are bonding,” she said – and seemed honest about it, too.  Does she REALLY not see through Chloe’s phony smile!?!  “But,” Camilla reminded, “don’t let that get in the way of your host duties …”  Camilla nodded to the wine bottle which had just been emptied by Lynn.

There was only one thing he could do.  “I’ll … I-I’ll get us m-more wine!” he announced, putting on his hospitality hat as best he could.  His limbs were even shakier than expected as he awkwardly pushed his chair out from the table and stood up.  The bottle slipped from his grasp and fell over as he reached for it on the table – luckily, it was empty.  “Oh – I-I’m such a ditz!  H … Haha …”

He grabbed it successfully and turned toward the kitchen.  On his way, he saw Chloe eyeing him with a sly, meaningful grin.  He shuddered visibly, and it was a miracle he didn’t stumble or drop the bottle onto the floor.

In the kitchen, out of sight, he leaned over the sink and thought he might throw up.  He didn’t, but he still stood there almost two minutes, regathering his wits – unsuccessfully.

“Mark – did you get lost??” Camilla called out playfully, from the dining room.  “We’re out of both bottles now – come quick!!”  The women – and even some of the men – giggled.  The wine was already starting to have an effect.

As if things couldn’t get worse, as soon as Mark brought the two freshly-opened bottles out, Camilla added, “Would you get an extra glass, too?  For Chloe.”

He guffawed – silently, thank god.  Chloe was years away from being old enough to drink.  He hesitated a moment longer than he should have, before nodding and heading back.

As he sat down and set the empty glass in front of his teenage daughter, Camilla leaned forward and asked conspiratorially, “So, Chloe: have you had wine before?  Be honest!”

Chloe hesitated, but then looked at her dad and laughed.  “Why wouldn’t I be honest?” she said – again, mockingly! – as she slung her arm around Mark’s shoulders a second time.  “I haven’t had wine, but …”  She looked him right in the eye and said bluntly, “Remember a couple weeks ago, when I went to a friend’s house to ‘study’?  Well, I lied.  There were about twelve of us, and we split a bottle of vodka.”  She shrugged playfully.  “Oops!  You’re not mad at me, are you, Daddy??”

His jaw dropped.  Mark's seething rage under the surface threatened to get out.  If this were a week ago, he'd yell at her until his throat was hoarse and forbid her from leaving her room for a month!

But instead, with Camilla and the others looking on, he slowly and methodically calmed himself down, to the point that he could force a weak smile, against everything he stood for.  "O-Of course I'm not mad," he lied.  "Um ... g-girls will be girls, right?"  He winced.  "Unless you have a-a problem with it, Camilla...?"

He was selling himself out, and he hated it.  Camilla seemed pleased that he asked, and she shrugged.  "I know you're responsible, Chloe.  As long as you don't make too much of a habit of it …"

Chloe smiled contentedly.  "I won't!  Thanks, Camilla!  And you too, Daddy - you're such a sweetie."  She kissed his cheek yet again, her eyes sparkling with devilish delight.

To his own surprise, he poured the wine into Chloe's glass himself without being prompted.  "S-See what you think," he said meekly.  He knew it would all work out better this way.

Chloe took a sip.  "Hey - not bad!!"  And she chugged it down.  "More!"

The others laughed heartily.  Mark smiled weakly and poured another - larger - glass for her, hoping that was all she'd want for a while.  They were theoretically like equals now, it seemed, but he wondered if that were even true now.  Chloe could probably get Camilla on her side just about whenever she wanted.  Plus there was the future to think about.  He needed to incite Chloe as little as he possibly could.

Chloe didn't make it easy.  She needled him all dinner long, and beyond.  They moved the party to the living room for charades and other games, and Chloe immediately sat next to him and teamed up with him, as the other 'couples' did.  He withstood her constant jabs and attempts to aggravate him – withstood them as best he could, anyway.

At the end of the night, he bade farewell to each guest until the only one remaining was Nestor.  Mark watched as Camilla bent down to whisper in Nestor's ear, "Wait for me in the bedroom, sugar," and slapped him on the bottom.  Nestor yelped and giggled as he scampered down the hall to Camilla's bedroom.

Camilla chuckled wistfully.  Nervously, Mark cleared his throat.

"Yes, Mark?" his towering daughter asked, turning to him.

Phil had convinced him that the best thing he could do is think of thoughtful surprises.  It was the only way to really convince her.  "You, um ... you should take my bedroom.  It's the master bedroom, so ... obviously ... it should belong to you."  He grimaced.  "I should have thought of it days ago."

Camilla beamed.  "Splendid!  You know, I hadn't really thought about that either!  Nestor and I will stay in my old room for tonight.  Swapping things between our rooms can be something for you to do during the week, when no one's in your way."

"S-Sounds good.  And, um ..."  He fidgeted miserably.  The last part would be even harder to say.

"Yes, Mark?"

Phil had convinced him very thoroughly: there was nothing to do but go for broke.  "Um,” he began, “and when I move into your old room, th-that'll also put me right next to Chloe, which, um, I think will help us grow a ... a lot closer."  And also allow her to torment me unseen - and make things even more hellish.

But he swallowed the last of his pride and finished, “I-I hope to spend a LOT of time with her from now on.  I promise I'll listen to her and try to work out our differences."

Camilla leaned against the wall and smiled.  "Hear that, Chloe?"

Horrified, he spun around to find his second daughter standing in the doorway, arms folded smugly.  "Sounds good to me!!  I can't wait."  She shot her dad a meaningful grin as she crossed the room in front of him.

"See ya later, bestie!" she chirped.  Without warning, she shot forward and wrapped her still quite soft and skinny arms around him.  Those arms suddenly became hard as she flexed and grunted – and, with considerable effort, she lifted him several inches off the ground and held him there for three seconds before her strength finally gave out.  With an excited grin and her arms still around him, she pulled herself in for an enthusiastic hug meant to seem warm and cheerful to anyone else.  But in his ear, she whispered, "Soon, Daddy.  Very, very soon."

His head was spinning as his second daughter walked away.  When an even larger, heavier hand fell on his shoulder, he shrieked in fright.

Looking up into Camilla's eyes, there was absolutely no doubt that she knew what Chloe was about and had a good sense what her sister might do to him.  Camilla was no fool, after all.  But she also clearly had no intention of intervening - her slightly smug expression told him he would be on his own with Chloe.

"Good work today," she praised.  "You pulled it off.  Let's not get complacent though, shall we?  With you and Chloe both leading things when I'm gone, I see no reason why we should let the household duties slip any below the level they're at now.  Wouldn't it be nice to always have things in top shape as if there's company coming over?"

He gulped, thinking of the nearly three full days of work he had put into cleaning and cooking alone.  "Y-Yes, that would be splendid," he lied.

"Chloe mentioned to me a bit ago that she thought you might take the lead on chores, since she's busy with homework lately.    Have you talked about this?"

He fought back tears.  "No ... not yet.  But ... that sounds ... reasonable."

Camilla hugged him as well, her massive bosom pressing in all around his face.  "I see so much promise in you," she told her dad proudly, releasing her arms and letting him breathe freely again.  She stroked his chin tenderly.  "Keep up the good work."

"I-I will," he croaked.  Or at least he would try.  That much was certain.