Friday

Mark couldn’t believe what he was hearing.  “Is it because I haven’t made a sale this month?  It’s just a temporary lull; I’m sure of it.  I know I’ll rebound next month.”

Janet, his boss, shook her head patiently.  “Everyone has lulls,” she said down to him.  “That’s not the reason, Mark.  Our company is simply struggling financially and we have to make a few cutbacks.  It’s nothing you did wrong, personally.”

His hands fretted nervously.  He always struggled talking with Janet, ever since she got promoted a few weeks ago.  They used to get along OK as coworkers, but now that she was his boss – and had gotten so much taller, too – their relationship had completely changed.  And not at all for the better.

He hated having to look up at her – and by more than a foot now, with her heels on.  It made things so much worse.  He wished Steve was still around – he had been a great boss, and far more approachable.  And not so damned tall!

He forced his fretting hands down and began unhappily, “But … but …”

“You may be misunderstanding me!” she reassured him.  “Don’t worry!  You still have a job.  And your hours will still be nearly full-time.”

“But why do I have to work from home now??”  That seemed like a very bad sign.

“With everything in flux right now, this works best for the company.”

That didn’t help at all.  “How will I even meet with clients?” he inquired.

“By phone, of course!  That’s how we handle most of our clients, anyway.”

“But not the big ones.  Can I still come in for in-person meetings?”

Janet visibly frowned.  “Hmm … we’ll see.”

A strangled groan left his lips.  That’s when it all clicked for him.  He finished the conversation in a daze, distractedly nodding when Janet said he could stay for the day but clean out his desk by 5 pm.  It was all very obvious, really.

* * *

At the bar after work, he told his friend and former coworker, Alan, what had happened.  Alan swore under his breath and shook his head.  “That sucks, man.  That really, really sucks.”

“They told you basically the same thing, right?” Mark inquired.

“Almost word for word.  Man, I’m sorry, buddy.”

Alan had been working at the company almost as long as Mark had, until he’d been abruptly laid off just three weeks ago.  After talking with Alan afterward, though, there had apparently been warning signs in the weeks leading up to it: Alan being shuffled off a few high-profile clients, being left out of several key in-person meetings (supposedly by ‘accident’), and finally being told outright that he’d be restricted to phone calls only, when dealing with clients.

“But what happened next?” Mark asked.  He hadn’t heard all the details.  “Did your remaining clients know what was happening?”

“I dunno.  Probably not.  But it didn’t matter.  Janet asked Breanne to start listening in on the phone calls, too – to ‘gain experience’, she claimed.  But then Breanne started calling them on her own after that, always with excuses like I was ‘in a meeting’ when they called, etcetera.  You know, I checked Breanne’s phone log – she’s the one who called them!  And I was free at the time!  One by one, all my clients went away like that – most of them to Breanne; some to other saleswomen.  But always women, Mark.  I’d call it a sexist conspiracy, but they’re barely even trying to hide it.  They just won’t admit it outright, for legal reasons.  I’m sure of it.”

Mark stared despondently at his glass. “Hey,” Alan said, clinking glasses with him.  “Bottoms up, man.  Nothing else we can do.”  And they drank to their sorrow.

* * *

Mark stepped inside his house and stood there glumly.  He was barely buzzed anymore, now just glum.

The door opened behind him twenty seconds later and his eldest daughter, Camilla, bumped into him and almost knocked him over on her way in.  “Oh – shit!  Sorry, Dad!” she said, stepping back and wiping some drops of sweat that transferred from her glistening body to him.  From her breathing, it sounded like she just got back from a run.

Like all women, she had gained height dramatically in recent months, and while the top of her head used to come only to his chin, now the situation was exactly reversed.  And her slender figure and waspy waist had filled out just as dramatically; her shoulders and hips were now far broader than his (distressingly so) and her newly-acquired penchant for weightlifting and exercise had turned his once-bookish and entirely nonathletic daughter into something resembling a WNBA all-star basketball center – only with exaggerated curves and pretty ridiculous breasts.

It was a terrible combination, that she’d grown a gajillion cup sizes while at the same time her height brought her chest so much closer to his face.  It was a constant annoyance and distraction every time they talked, now.  He didn’t want to notice his daughter’s breasts, but at that size and proximity they were impossible to simply ignore – particularly now, with them stuffed into a far too tight and much too revealing sports bra.  With nothing else to cover her torso, her wide, flared hips and washboard abs were on full display as well.  Not to mention her arms, which seemed more toned and formidable every day.  Unless he was just imagining things.

Mark regained his footing and brushed it off.  “That’s fine.  How are you today?”

“Great.  Just ran back from the gym.  Had an awesome workout!  I’m really loving it there.”

“That’s nice, dear.  You—wait … the gym on 9th and William?”

“Yeah.”

He frowned up at her.  “Isn’t that, like, 5 miles away?”

“Nah – not even 4 and a half, according to Google.”

He frowned.  She was breathing like she’d only run a mile or less, not 4.5.  “How long did that take you?” he asked dubiously.

She shrugged.  “I dunno.  But slower than I ran on the way there, though.”

What – nine miles total?  PLUS a workout?  Baloney.  I know she’s lying now.

But before he could call her out, she said, “Um, ‘scuse me, real quick.”  Her big chest whooshed past him as she poured herself a big glass of water, downed it in seconds, then repeated.  Her glistening limbs and back showed considerable tone … not to mention she was just huge now.  It wasn’t like he was intimidated or anything – the thought of her ever trying to challenge him physically was just ridiculous; he knew her well enough to know she’d never dream of such a thing.  But he did wonder if he would actually win a direct contest now – she did look pretty strong…

She started doing stretches – first tucking each leg behind her, then stretching her arms, then bending right over and touching her toes.  Holy jesus fuck … His eyes accidentally looked down her cleavage – it was impossible not to; there was so damned much of it.  He looked away immediately, of course, but the image was still seared in his mind.

He couldn’t help but groan and tell her, “Didn’t we talk about you wearing tops like that?  I mean, Christ, Camilla, you have to consider your body now.”

She straightened up and glared annoyedly.  “It’s just me and you here, Dad – why should that matter at all??”

“Well, it doesn’t!” he clarified quickly.  “Not for me.  I’m talking about when you’re in public.”

She was really peeved now, as she snatched a shirt out of her bag and waved it.  “I wore this the whole way there, AND at the gym, and most of the way home – until I got too hot.  And besides … I’m 20 years old, and why should you have any say in what I wear??”

He hesitated, then sighed reluctantly.  “You’re right – it’s not my place.  It’s just that, frankly, your body has changed a lot lately and I wanted to remind you.”

She sniffed angrily.  “No, you still wanted to dictate wh—Ugh, never mind!  Can we not argue, for once?”

He nodded amenably.  “Sounds good.  I won’t bring it up again.”  He knew he almost certainly would, but not for a while at least.  “Hey,” he added pacifyingly, “it is nice having you back home.”

She lightened up and nodded.  “Yeah – I’m glad to be back too.  Thanks for letting me stay here, by the way.”

“You’ve told me that already,” he reminded gently.  “But you’re welcome.  And again, stay as long as you want – I mean it.”

“Thanks, Dad.”  She smiled and went off to her old room.

Camilla had been away at college for the last two years but had gotten a bit burned out and wanted to take a break for a year.  Mark, despite applying perhaps a little more pressure on her to stay in school than he should have, ultimately welcomed her home with open arms.  She’d only been back a few weeks now (incidentally, she’d been about five inches shorter at the time she’d arrived … still much taller than she used to be, though), and although they found plenty of things to fight about, they usually were able to resolve it within a day or two, or sooner.

While she was home, she’d expressed interest in finding a job – something a little higher than grocery store attendant, something that could help pay the bills but also be a little rewarding.  He had told her there’s no rush, since the family was just fine in terms of money and all …

He frowned.  I might not have a job for long, he remembered.  But that was an issue for later.  He had the weekend to look forward to.

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

Monday

He was awoken by a knock on his door.  Moments later, Camilla barged in, carrying her younger sister Kayla on her back.  Kayla was 13 and normally much too old to be carried by piggyback – but her relationship with Camilla had taken a rather odd turn since Camilla had returned home.  Kayla had always looked up to her big sister a whole lot, and Camilla used to give Kayla piggyback rides some 8 or 10 years ago … but now that Camilla was so much bigger than Kayla again, they almost seemed to have reverted back to a similar dynamic, in some ways.  It was strange how much Kayla liked being around Camilla and being carried by her and so on.

Anyway, Camilla discovered their father was still in bed, and she said, “Whoops!  I assumed you were up.  Sorry.  C’mon, Kayla, let’s leave him alone for now.”

“OK, Cammy,” Kayla replied.  That was something she hadn’t called Camilla since elementary school, too.

They left, and Mark rolled his eyes.  So weird.  He sat up and rubbed his eyes.  Mark had somewhat intentionally slept in later than usual – working from home, he needn’t get up as early anymore.  But he also hadn’t mentioned the new arrangement to Camilla or his other kids yet.

This became quite awkward, when the younger kids went off to school and Camilla ended up sticking around past 9 AM before heading out.  At around 8:40, of course, she asked why he was still at home.  “I’m just … working from home today,” he admitted.

“Oh?  How come?”

This was the tricky part.  “I … think I might have a cold.  Don’t want to get anyone sick.”

“Huh.  You seem fine to me.”  She stepped toward him.

“Hey, hey, I don’t want to get you sick either,” he excused.

She laughed.  “Uh … alright.  But is everything OK at work?”

“What do you mean?”

She shrugged.  “You hear stuff in the news about a lot of guys losing their jobs, or voluntarily staying at home, or … well, you know.  Times are changin’.”

Now things were getting uncomfortable.  He tried not to fidget.  “Uh … I guess.  But things are fine.”

“You promise?  I mean, you do still have a job, right?”

He guffawed.  “Of course!  Don’t be silly.”

She nodded, convinced.  “OK, cool.  Sorry to pry.  I just want you to know, Dad, that you can feel free to talk to me about these things.  In fact … well, I know you’re the head of the house, of course, but as another adult in the family, it’d be really nice if you could stay open with me and all that.  I’d like to help if I can.”

What a strange request.  “Um … sure.  Yes, of course.  And I appreciate it.”

As she nodded and went away, he wondered, Did she see through me?  Does she actually think I’m struggling at work, or was that truly just a random offer?

As he thought about it, her tone when she mentioned guys losing their jobs and all that almost made it seem like she thought it was inevitable.

Bah.  I’m just imagining things.

* * *

Right after Camilla left, Mark settled into his home office and got to work as usual.  It was actually a pretty normal day, other than being at home.  He got caught up on a few tasks, made some calls to clients, sent a few emails; all just like any other day.

He was a little surprised when none of his friends or close colleagues at work reached out to him about working from home, either by email or phone.  He would have expected someone at least to mention it at some point, maybe ask him how he was handling it; heck, even joke about it with him.  But there was nothing.

* * *

That afternoon, though, he realized he may have gotten calls to his work phone but he wasn’t there to answer them.  He decided to call his phone directly to bring up his voicemail.

But after two rings, a young woman answered.  “Hello?  This is Sherryl.”

He blinked.  “Sherryl Price?”  She was a new hire – straight out of college; quite sharp, great personality … and a real beauty, too, incidentally.  The few times they’d interacted, it seemed to have gone quite well.  If she wasn’t just half his age, he would undoubtedly have asked her out already.  Well, that and the fact that – like all women – she was at least several inches taller than him, which still really weirded him out.

“Yep,” the smart, attractive young blonde replied.  “Who is this?”

“This is Mark.”

“Mark who?”

“Mark Lawrence.”

He heard a creak – like she had suddenly jerked forward in her chair.  “Oh!” she exclaimed, seemingly suddenly flustered.  “Of … of course.”

What’s with the weird reaction?  And—wait … “Sherryl?  Can I ask what you’re doing in my office?”  He tried to say this as nicely as possible, but he was admittedly a little annoyed.  What good reason could she possibly have?

“They … said this room was available,” his young coworker explained sheepishly.

 It took him a second to suss this out, but then he laughed.  “Ah.  I see now.  They’re still deciding who gets to move in to my office, and you figured you’d slip in while it’s free, eh?  Haha – nice move.  But between you and me, Janet doesn’t take well to shenanigans, so you might want to clear out before she learns you snuck in.”

Silence.

“Sherryl?”

“Janet told me to come here.”

“Huh?”

“I mean, uh … this is my office now.”

Mark froze – then he laughed.  “Haha, you had me there.  What’d she really say?”

“She said this is my office.”

His smile faded.  Sherryl didn’t seem to be joking.  But she HAS to be joking, right??  It took me ten years to move out of the cubicles and get my own office!  And she’s only been working here a few months!

He expected Sherryl to say ‘sike!’ any moment now … but she didn’t.  Mark became uneasy.  “Would you mind putting me through to Janet?” he asked, forcing his voice steady.  “Extension 202.”

There was a long pause, and then: “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

Mark’s eyes widened.  “What!??  Don’t be silly!  I just—“

“Um, sorry, Mark, but the Scoville Company should be here any minute and I’m supposed to meet them by Reception, so—“

“Wait … WHAT!?!  They’re my biggest client!!  Why would YOU be meeting them, and not … not …”

“Drat!” he heard her mutter – she clearly wasn’t supposed to have told him that.

His head swam, as reality set in.  Alan’s words were coming true; he just never expected it to happen so soon, or for Sherryl to be the one.  Someone with years of sales experience, he could understand – but SHERRYL!?!

“I really have to go,” the young employee said in a strained voice, before hanging up.

Mark ran his hands through his hair, then called Janet directly.  It went to voicemail, and he probably should have thought it through first, but he ended up in a tirade.  “Janet!” he exclaimed bitterly.  “This is Mark.  I guess I’m not surprised about my clients … but SHERRYL!?!  She just started here!!  You can’t possibly be serious!!  That’s just absolutely ridiculous!!!”

He hung up angrily – but immediately regretted it.  He called back a minute later, calmer now, and left another message: “Janet – I’m sorry for flying off the handle.  That was out of line.  Please, just call me back.  I’ll … await your call.”

* * *

He didn’t get anything done after that; too busy fretting. It took over an hour, but finally he got a call back, from a company landline.  “Janet?” he answered.

“No – it’s Sherryl.”

“Huh?  Oh … hi, Sherryl.  Sorry, I was expecting a call from Janet.  She—“

“I talked to her.”

“You did?  So when’s she calling me back?”

After a pause: “She’s not.”

Mark blinked.  “Excuse me?”

“She said she was too busy, and she wanted me to—um … address your concerns myself.”  That clearly wasn’t the language Janet had used.  He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the real words ...

“Umm,” he replied slowly, “OK, that’s really strange, but if I could just—“

“Oh … sorry to interrupt, Mark, but could I speak?  I kinda have a lot to do.  I’ll be honest, Mark – she’s not happy that you found out so soon.  The plan was to fill you in gradually, but you seem to know what’s going on, so she gave me the OK to fill you in on basically everything now.”  She paused respectfully.  “Mark … you’ll be let go at the end of the week.”

This hit Mark like a 2x4.  So soon??  He became emotional.

Sherryl went on, “Janet wanted me to thank you for your many years of hard work, and—“

“She can’t tell me that herself!?” he challenged angrily.

“Mark, I’m on your side.  Please just listen.  You still have important work to do, in helping transition your clients over to me and getting me up to speed on things.  You—“

“So you’re my replacement?  A twenty-year-old??”

“I’m twenty-two,” Sherryl deadpanned, starting to lose patience.  “Look, Mark, obviously this isn’t the ideal way to break this to you, and I understand your frustration, but I do need your help.  And I … well, I have to ask that you be cooperative with me.”

He scoffed bitterly.  “And what if I’m not – huh??  What if I just quit today?”

“You’ll lose your last two weeks’ pay – but more importantly, you may lose your pension, too.”

He fell into stunned silence.  This is bullshit!!

“Will you cooperate?”

He wanted to tell her off – and Janet, too.  Mostly Janet.  But although the pension wouldn’t kick in for another fifteen years, it was worth a good chunk of money later on.  He choked back his anger and said slowly, grimly, “OK.  I’ll cooperate.”

Sherryl sounded relieved.  “Good.  Thank you.”  Another pause, then: “So … while I have you … what can you tell me about the Samford account?”

* * *

Just minutes after he got off the phone with Sherryl – one of the most humiliating calls of his life – Camilla came home from her daily workout.  For all he knew, she supposedly ran to and from the gym again – nine miles, if she’s to be believed.

“How’s working from home?” she asked cheerfully, wiping sweat from her brow.

“It’s …”  His voice trailed off, and his mouth curled into a dismal frown.

He hid it quickly, but too late.  “What happened??” Camilla inquired, suddenly intently focused.  She knelt next to his desk and put a hand on his shoulder encouragingly.  “Are you losing your job?”

It was all too much – his shame, his frustration … and those goddamned breasts!!  He caught a glimpse of her deep cleavage again and groaned.  Why does she have to keep wearing that skimpy top!!  Why does she have to be so damned big and strong and curvy all over??  I can’t freaking focus!!

He was just emotional, he knew; it made things much harder.  But he ended up breaking down and admitting almost everything – that he was being phased out at work, that he’d be out of the job by Friday, even stupidly admitting that a 22-year-old was taking his place.

Oddly, Camilla didn’t balk at any of this.  She expressed sympathy and support, but he again got the sense that she saw this coming, that it was inevitable.  Why? he wondered.  Because I’m a man?  Is that it?  He decided he really didn’t like where society was headed, nowadays.  In fact, he fucking hated it.

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

Tuesday

After they saw the kids off the next morning, Camilla turned to Mark.  “I’d like to stay home for a while this morning,” she declared kindly.  “You’re going through a lot, and I want to help.”

He frowned.  “Really, that’s not necessary.  I’m sure you have things you want to do today.”

She laughed and kissed his forehead.  She had to bend down a smidge to do so.  Why can’t she be short again…

“Nothing I’d rather do than be here,” she assured him.  “Seriously – your wish is my command.  Want a nice breakfast?  Eggs?  Waffles?  French toast?”

“I, um …”  He shrugged.  “I guess, eggs and waffles, if you’re offering.”

“You bet!”  She began bustling about the kitchen, getting things ready.  He really didn’t have anything to do until 9:00 – Sherryl requested he be available then; the nerve!!! – so he just awkwardly loitered for a while.

Just before he decided to leave, Camilla smiled encouragingly and, while mixing ingredients in a bowl, said to him, “Really, we should view this as a good thing.  What if you’d stayed on at the firm?  How much longer could you really have held on, anyway?  And don’t you think it’d be stressful having to fight to survive, so to speak?  To constantly fight a losing battle?  At least this way, you know exactly when your job is ending, and you can move on.”

Mark’s jaw slowly dropped.  “That’s … incredibly offensive,” he accused.

She jerked her head up.  “What?  No, I'm just observing where society is heading."

"But you almost sound like you WANT things to change this way."

"That's not what I'm saying at all!  I think it really sucks that you're losing your job, for things outside your control. All I'm saying is it's better to accept and embrace things you can't control, rather than let yourself get dragged down by them."

"Easy for you to say," he retorted. "You're a woman.  You have it easy."

She huffed.  This really got under her skin. "Yeah, well, that wasn't always the case. Women haven't exactly had it easy in the past – or haven’t you noticed?  In situations like this, you just have to keep your head up and keep moving forward."

"Advice from a 20 year old," he grumbled, leaving the room. 

Camilla scowled unhappily.  I know he's going through a rough time, but does he have to be SO sour about it?  I hope this improves soon.

 

Friday

Camilla's dad remained ornery all week, especially on Friday when he was officially terminated. Camilla wanted to do something nice for him so she got his friends' numbers from his phone and organized a poker night at their house without Dad knowing. She even put her own plans that week on hold to make the house presentable for their guests.

After consoling her dad as much as she could, she broke the evening’s plans to him.  He frowned at first, but she saw him warm up to the idea slowly. Better than just drinking his sorrows away at a bar like he sometimes does.

* * *

Despite the rough day, Mark was reasonably content as he and four of his best friends sat around the table in the basement playing No Limit Texas Hold'em.  They sat around shooting the shit for a while until everyone had arrived.  The kids were all upstairs sleeping or doing their own thing, and Camilla promised they wouldn’t be disturbed.  Which sounded great to him.

They commiserated with him on his lost job briefly, but moved on quickly, as guys do.  Then they laughed and joked just like old times, like nothing had changed.  They were all on their second beer when Mark pulled the cards out and started dealing.  “So, what’s the buy-in?” he asked.

“It’s your house,” Ray said.  “Your call.”

“Hold up,” Nestor cut in, “the man just lost his job.  Maybe he wants to play for peanuts.  Or maybe candy wrappers.”

The guys all snorted and laughed.  “Fuck you,” Mark joked.  He didn’t mean it at all.  This kind of dry humor was just what he needed.  “10 bucks?” he asked, on a more serious note.

Ray shrugged and nodded, but Alan, and even Phil, winced.  “Let’s go with 5,” Alan suggested, and Ray seemed amenable too.

“What, your wife’s tightening the purse strings on you?” Ray goaded.

Phil didn’t reply.  He just looked down and seemed … glum.

The mood in the room started to shift.  “My wife gave me a $20 spending limit tonight,” Phil said eventually.

Mark laughed – until he realized Phil was serious.  “Oh,” Mark said hastily.  “Sorry.  I … thought you were joking.”  He blinked a few times.  “But why would … I mean, don’t you make good money?”

Phil looked at him, then down again, then back to Mark.  “I, uh, quit my job.”

“What??  You quit voluntarily?  How come?”

Alan nudged Mark’s elbow and shook his head.  That surprised Mark most of all.  He looked around, and everyone in the room seemed to know something he didn’t.  “What?” he asked.  “What’s happening?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Alan smoothed over.  “I’m sure there’s better stuff we can talk about, eh?  And as long as Nestor doesn’t play like an idiot, that $20 should last him a while, huh?”

Phil forced a thin smile.  “Let’s play,” he agreed.

The mood gradually became less uncomfortable – but Mark remained perplexed.  What aren’t they telling me??

* * *

He forgot all about it as they got into the game.  Within less than an hour, Mark was up about $8 and feeling good – thanks to the beer, too, of which he’d had three now.  The others were keeping up with him, too.  Before long, the downstairs fridge was empty.

“Deal me out,” Mark told Ray.  “I’ll bring down some more six-packs.”

“I’ll help you,” Nestor offered, standing immediately.

“I should help, too…” Phil chimed in, with a sly grin.

“You guys are never that helpful,” Mark replied, confused.  “I—Oh.”  He put two and two together.  “Screw you guys,” he said with rolling eyes, waving them off.

Nestor and Phil sat back down, and they all laughed except Mark, who grumbled under his breath.  They were all hoping to get a peek at Camilla – well, Nestor and Phil were for sure.  Maybe the others too, for all Mark knew.  But those two in particular had been ribbing him about his ‘hot daughter’ in recent weeks.  It was getting kind of annoying, honestly.

Camilla must have heard him coming up the stairs, because she was already coming to meet him by the stairway door when he opened it – already holding four six-packs, one in each hand and one pressed against each hip.  “You guys run out?  I figured you would.  Hold the door for me?”  Her large frame glided toward him.

“Oh – I’ll get them,” he offered, but Camilla just laughed and brushed past him.  “You really don’t have to go down there,” he insisted.

Camilla stopped two steps down and grinned back at him.  “But what would be the fun in that?”  She winked and kept going.

Oh hell.  The only thing worse than his friends all having a crush on her, was that she already knew about it – and seemed to encourage it at every turn.  It may have been funny to her, but not to him.

“Hey, boys!” she announced at the bottom of the stairs, accompanied by cheers.  When he made it down there, his friends were all ogling her – even the three married ones, Ray, Phil, and Alan.  She smiled and made small talk with each of them – and contact, too; patting their backs, resting her hand on their arms, etc., as she served them beers.  She’s acting like a goddamned Hooters girl, Mark lamented.  Only … I’m not sure even Hooters would have a shirt big enough for her in the chest… Ugh!

He sat down and freely rolled his eyes.  Not that anyone noticed; they were all looking her way still, as she laughed and joked.  I remember when she was a shy, timid book worm, he thought glumly.  And that was just 6 months ago!

She put the remaining beers in the fridge and started up the stairs.  “Wait!” Nestor beseeched.  “Stay for a few hands!”

“Yeah,” added Phil.  “You know how to play?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty good,” she replied matter-of-factly.  “But I dunno …”

“Stay!” Nestor coaxed again.  “See, there’s an extra chair for you.”  He walked over and brought the chair up next to him.  So very helpful of him, Mark thought dryly.

Camilla’s eyes caught Mark’s briefly, but she just grinned.  “Heck, why not.  Just a few hands.”

The mood instantly improved even more as she sat down.  And when she tossed her cardigan off, revealing a tight tank top and a lot of cleavage, the room fairly buzzed with excitement, from everyone but Mark.

Nestor in particular couldn’t stop beaming.  “Here, have some,” he offered almost immediately, holding out his beer to her.

“What a gentleman!” Camilla laughed, patting him on the back.  “But Nestor,” she chided playfully, “I’m only twenty, remember?”

“That’s, um, old enough for me,” Nestor replied, his grin turning almost blatantly suggestive.

Oh, Christ, Mark bemoaned.  Someone needs to cut him off.

No one else even rolled their eyes, though.  “I think you’d better ask your dad for permission,” Ray cut in, laughing at his own joke.  The others all joined in.

Odd, Mark thought.  Shouldn’t she?

With a playful glint in her eye, Camilla took the offered bottle, looked to Mark and asked, “Well, Daddy?  May I?”

His friends were still chuckling.  Why would her asking permission be this funny?  He rolled his eyes for the umpteenth time and said, “Hell, why not.  Go for it.”

Camilla beamed.  She did have a beautiful smile, he had to give her that.  Tossing her long, blonde hair over her shoulder, she tossed her head back and drank.  And drank.  And drank.

“Ahhh…!” she exclaimed, slamming the empty bottle down on the table.  The others loved it; they hooped and hollered and slapped her on the back like she was one of the guys now.  Mark was semi-speechless; to his knowledge, she’d never even drunk a drop of alcohol before in her life.  Well… had she?  She certainly could have, in college – but knowing how introverted and shy she used to be, I guess I had assumed not.  Yet here she was, chugging a nearly-full bottle in one swig, without even batting an eye.  Mark wasn’t sure he could even do that. 

“Well, we all better drink to that!” Phil cheered, and the rest of them immediately assented.  Soon Mark was the only guy without a beer in his hand.  They all goaded him verbally, but it was Camilla’s smirk, mostly – almost like she was playfully challenging him or something – which egged him on.

As they all chugged, she watched him the entire time – and laughed when he gargled a bit toward the end, nearly spitting it all out.  He’d drunk it too fast – for him, anyway.  Camilla seemed amused.

“Want another, babe?” Nestor asked, rising up.  Mark wanted to sock him in the jaw; he was getting more and more annoying.

But suddenly Camilla’s hand fell on Nestor’s shoulder, and he dropped like a rock.  Mark thought he even heard a ‘thud’ when he hit the chair … It happened so fast that Mark didn’t really know what happened.  But he couldn’t have just imagined it, since Nestor’s head whirled toward her and his eyebrows shot way up.  He seemed breathless, but in a very odd way.

Camilla, hand still on his shoulder, said, “I’ll get it,” then leaned in and whispered something in his ear which made his smile widen and eyebrows rise even higher.  Mark swore he saw Camilla’s fingertips swiftly trace up the side of Nestor’s neck, all the way past his ear, as she rose from her seat.

“Anyone else want something?” she asked cheerfully.  The others were either as stunned as Mark was, or maybe just imagining themselves in Nestor’s shoes, because no one answered.  Camilla laughed like she knew why, and answered, “Another round for everyone, it is!  And you S-O-B’s better drink it, too – haha!  All the easier to take your money, that way.”

This brought chuckles and smiles all around, save Mark.  As she passed the new brews around, they all thanked her warmly and continued to smile as she sat back down.  When she realized she didn’t have the money, three of them offered to cover her buy-in all in unison – even Phil, with his wife-imposed spending limit!  Camilla smiled and demurely declined, but Mark grumbled then forked up the money himself and put an end to that.

Camilla folded at least the first dozen hands, either right away or a few times on the flop.  She didn’t seem to care, and appeared less interested in the game than in shooting the breeze and joking around with the guys (and she did fit right in with that, surprisingly).  She hardly seemed to be paying attention at all, really.

She got lucky and won the first time she didn’t fold.  “Oh, that’s me!” she exclaimed, sounding surprised as she raked in the modest pile of chips.  Mark heard the chatter suddenly die down, and realized they were all looking down her cleavage as she bent forward.  Those freaking pigs!  Dammit, guys! 

“Well played, Camilla!” Ray complimented.  He was the one she beat on that hand.  “I’ll drink to that.”

Camilla grinned.  “You’d better!  You know, where I’m from, every time a girl beats you, you gotta drink!”

Ray laughed.  “Sure.  I’m down for that.”  The others shrugged and nodded too – even Mark, for the hell of it.  He doubted it would happen often, the way she plays.

* * *

Oddly, Camilla started playing a lot more after that – and winning.  Much more than she lost.  With the guys taking a swig every time she beat them, they soon seemed too buzzed – and generally distracted by her – to really notice how well she was doing.  In short order, she had the biggest stack of chips at the table.

But Mark saw a pattern: she was bluffing constantly.  Or at least it seemed so.  The other guys didn’t seem to notice – but Mark was watching.  Next time it was down to just him and her, he looked up from his cards and saw Camilla grinning at him confidently.  “What?” he asked.

“Oh … nothin’.  I think I have you beat, is all.”

“Ooooh …” the others joked.

Mark peered into her overconfident eyes and scoffed.  “Well, I think you’re bluffing.  I’ll see your dollar fifty, and raise you two.”  He slid half his remaining pile into the pot.

She was beaming now.  She did seem really confident.  “All in,” she said, with barely a moment’s hesitation.

Her smile widened as he faltered.  Is she bluffing??  He frowned slightly.  I have a pretty good hand, though …

He stuck to his guns.  “You’re gonna regret that,” he said, pushing his remaining three dollars and change into the middle.  Then he slapped down his cards.  “Jack-high straight.  Someone had to call your crap.”

She laughed even louder.  “Oh, did you think I was bluffing?”  She tossed her cards onto his.  “Full house!  Sorry, pops.”  She winked at him as she casually pulled in her winnings – certainly the biggest pot of the evening so far.

He scowled, and ended up focusing his annoyance on her generously-cut top, which really was showing WAYYY too much cleavage, especially with guests over.  And she clearly got lucky with that hand.  And—

“Hey—drink up!” she reminded playfully, pointing to his beer.

He irritably took a sip.

“Hey, you gotta drink the whole beer for that,” Ray chided.  “She cleaned you out, man!”

“Don’t remind me,” Mark grumbled under his breath, as he downed the nearly-full bottle and got up to get himself another.  He sat back down resolutely and slapped another fiver on the table.  “Deal me in – I’m winning my money back.”

He was pretty serious about it, but the guys all cheered flippantly.  Camilla still had that annoying grin on her face.  That pretty grin.  Why was she so pretty?  She used to be sorta plain.  But now she’s … I mean …

He shook that thought out of his head just in time.  Christ, I’m not nearly drunk enough for that!

* * *

Camilla’s pile kept slowly growing.  To her credit, it wasn’t just because she was making everyone else drunk – she was at least keeping up with the drinking, and then some, perhaps.  She’s big, though, Mark thought.  Very big.  Very big, indeed.  He realized too late that he was staring down her shirt again.  Probably the biggest chest I’ve ever—

He shook his head and looked away.  He was bordering on drunk now.  Well, I wouldn’t be, if she didn’t keep cleaning me out!!  The other guys at least had occasional success against her – although she never seemed to lose big, always knowing when to fold.  At least sometimes she did lose.  But against Mark, surely by just dumb, horrible chance, she seemed to beat him every time.  It was getting ridiculous.  He’d gone bankrupt a total of four times now, and each time it was from losing to her.  And that damned smile of hers when she beat him – still so pretty, but still really annoying …

He looked at his few dollars remaining, and at similar stacks among his friends.  They’d all bought in at least a second time by now – Phil a third – but none seemed to mind.  Even though Camilla was sitting over there with almost double what the rest of them had combined; probably close to $50 now.  Never at any previous poker night had one player been so far in the lead.

She was even playing loose with it now, tossing a few extra coins their way here and there, whenever someone beat her or just for the heck of it.  They all found her generosity amusing, and were tickled pink by her increasingly apparent skill in poker, complimenting her endlessly – which she graciously accepted, often with another coin tossed their way for grins.

Well, Mark took no handouts from her.  This is ridiculous! he thought, when she beat him again.  She’s not even supposed to be down here!  And – no offense – but she just a freaking girl!!

“Drink up!” she reminded him yet again.

He almost threw the beer in her face.  He didn’t, but he was still ticked.  “God … such beginner’s luck!!” he exclaimed.  “Unbelievable!”

“Ha – I’m no beginner, Dad.  I play all the time at college.  I told you I’m good, didn’t I?”

“She’s clearly got skill, Mark,” Phil supported.

Oh, shut up, Phil.

“Thanks, Phil,” Camilla praised, patting his back.  She’d done that god knows how many times that night – but nothing compared to with Nestor, though.  Mark swore he saw her hand reach under the table more than a few times; Mark only prayed she was only patting Nestor’s leg and nothing more…

“But how are you this good?” Ray chimed in, genuinely curious.

Camilla beamed, as they started the next hand. “It’s really about reading your opponent,” she explained.  “And picking up on ‘tells’ doesn’t hurt, either.”  The others listened and nodded like she was some goddamned poker pro.

Mark rolled his eyes again.  “What ‘tells’?” he asked, before eyeing his cards.

Camilla smiled.  “For example, Dad, you wrinkle your nose just a little, when you have a bad hand.  On that note … you should probably fold, Daddy.”

His eyes shot up to hers.  He was supremely annoyed; but she was right.  He irritably tossed his cards into the middle, amidst clapping and praise from the guys.  “Damn, that’s impressive!” they complimented.  “I never noticed!”

Mark’s face turned red as he sat back and stewed.  “What’s my tell?” Nestor asked, beside her.  Christ … he was looking at her with almost full-on adoration now.

She laughed.  “You have a bunch, hon.  But I’m not gonna tell you.”  Her eyes sparkled.  “But I’ll tell you one of Phil’s, though …”

“Hey!” Phil protested playfully, as she draped her arm across Nestor’s shoulders and whispered in his ear again.

“Really?” Nestor asked, and Camilla nodded and pulled back.  Her arm remained, though.

Mark’s face reddened, on multiple accounts.  If only she was under 18 again, then he could forbid her from getting so cozy with his friend.  But now, if he tried to forbid it, it’d probably only push her into Nestor’s arms more.  Umm … or him into her arms.  Did I mention she’s big?  Geez, if I were next to her, she could probably drape her arms around me just as easily.  He made the mistake of imagining himself in Nestor’s seat, and picturing the remarkable view down her low-cut blouse …

For God’s sake!! he thought, regretting the alcohol even more now.  Grumpily, he refocused himself and at least made sure not to wrinkle his nose anymore.

It still didn’t help.  His funds slowly dwindled away – and a few rounds later, he found himself facing off against Phil – and Camilla, again.  He watched her casually throw in a few more $1 chips off her stack, to push them both all-in.  “Oh, no honey,” she said kindly, pushing Phil’s chips back toward him as he started to call.  “You’re chasing a straight, right?  The odds are way against you, sweetie.  Here, I’ll refund all your money back if you fold.”

“Wow – thanks!” Phil said, happily tossing his cards in and neatening his stack again.

That idiot!  He didn’t even question it!  Now that it was Mark’s turn, he confidently pushed in his remaining chips – but Camilla likewise told him, “Dad, you have just a 13.7% chance that your full house will hit.”

He was startled.  “How the hell did you—Ack!  It doesn’t matter.  I’m all in.”

“But why?” she asked calmly.

“You bought off Phil, hoping I’d fall for it too.”

“I really just felt bad,” she told him.  “I swear!  Look, I’ll make you the same offer, OK?”  She started divvying out what he’d bet in earlier rounds, to return to him free of charge.

“No!” he exclaimed, pushing back and spilling all his chips into the middle.  “All in.  Show ‘em.”  He revealed his two pair – just as she predicted.

She sighed and showed her ace-high flush.  Ray turned over the river card, but it didn’t help him at all.

He slumped back in his chair, annoyed and thoroughly demoralized.  “You ALWAYS have the best cards,” he complained.  “It’s no fair!”

“No, it only seems that way,” Alan chimed in ‘helpfully’.

“Yeah, Mark,” Phil added, “she just knows when to play and when to fold.”

This only made Mark madder.  “Yeah, well, she’s lucky too.  She’s gotten lucky so many times tonight.”

“But that’s—“

“She’s lucky!” Mark insisted, raising his voice.  “Even if she has some skill, it’s still just, like, 30% skill and 70% luck.  I’m sick of it!”

Camilla’s jaw tightened.  Frankly, she was getting a little sick of him, too.  I know he’s just been laid off, and I guess I should go easy on him, but … heck, does he always have to think he’s better at everything??  He’s been like this my whole life.

She let it slide though, and kept doing what she’d been doing – methodically picking them apart.

Before long, Mark had run through all the cash in his wallet - about six buy-ins worth - and found himself with a decent stack but he was facing Camilla yet again. His attempts to find a pattern in her play had failed repeatedly - every time he thought he had her figured out, she did the exact opposite of what he expected. And 4 times out of 5, it worked out for her.

This time, though, he'd slow played it perfectly and didn't let anyone know he was holding a high pair. He showed just enough hesitation on the turn before placing a bet, and on the river he made it look like he had hit big by grinning and raising right away.

He was totally confident ... until he saw his daughter's smile. "Pocket queens?" she asked slyly.  "That, or pocket kings. I'm guessing queens."

The color drained from his face.  He looked around, trying to see who was watching his cards or where the hidden camera was.  He honestly suspected it. But there was nothing.

He realized she was giggling.  Too late to deny it now. "How could you POSSIBLY have known that?" he demanded. 

She grinned and explained everything. Mark just shook his head. Damn.  "Well, OK, but that doesn't mean YOU have anything. I think ... um ..."

She excitedly leaned forward – holy fuck, that cleavage!!  He actually had trouble focusing now.  "Can you guess?" she taunted. "How's this: if you guess exactly what I have, I'll give you my whole stack."  She spread her hands over the 50-some dollars in front of her.  He was still being a bit of a jerk, so she didn’t mind taunting him like this – he kinda deserved it.  "I'll at least give you the pot if you get close..." she added.

Mark opened his mouth, closed it.  His brain thought furiously, trying to find any visual cues or patterns of play that could help him.

In the end, he threw his hands up.  "I have no fucking idea!" he admitted in exasperation, drawing boisterous laughter from his friends.  "You don't play with any pattern.  You're totally random!"

"It's only SUPPOSED to appear random," Ray identified, looking to her with admiration. "That's how the pros play."

Can it, Ray!!  He ignored that and focused on Camilla.  She stared right back, brimming with confidence.  Her easy smile really made it seem like she was in total control. Such a bizarre feeling, considering this was his little girl.  Well, not so little …

"What'll it be?" she asked, leaning forward more. Somehow, her gaze intensified even further. "Think you got what it takes – hmm??"

He felt like his insides were boiling.  She'd burned him so many times already, always with the upper hand, always in charge.  It was all so confusing – her having the upper hand, always one step ahead, always in control.  And sooo goddamned beautiful!!  Arghh!!!

Mark couldn't take it anymore. He folded his pocket queens in defeat and watched her gleefully rake in the pot, which included over half his remaining chips.

Ray brazenly flipped over Mark's cards.  Mark didn’t even bother stopping him.  "Yep, Camilla, you were right!" Ray announced.

She laughed.  "I already knew that."

To her surprise, Nestor did the same with her cards, revealing a 2 and a 7.  She'd had nothing, not even a pair.

"Hey!" Camilla protested, catching Nestor's wrist.  Nestor was the smallest guy at the table and his arm looked pretty puny next to hers.  "Tsk!  Naughty boy!" she teased.  "Drop it."  He did so, and she whispered something in his ear that REALLY set him aflame.  Her left hand disappeared behind his chair, and suddenly he yelped. Did she just slap his bottom?  What the hell!?

The strange moment was broken when Phil looked at the clock. "Oh – shit!  Shit shit SHIT!!!"

"What?" Alan asked.

"I was supposed to be home ten minutes ago."

Alan's eyes widened slightly. He muttered something that sounded like a curse, under his breath.  To Mark's surprise, the other guys looked just as solemn. 

Mark shrugged.  "Hell, who cares?  Lynn can wait – we're having boys night!"

Phil remained silent.

"What, did you leave your cajones at the door?" Mark joked. 

None of the guys laughed or even smiled.  Camilla broke the silence with a sense of urgency, saying, "We'd better get you home, then.  I'm the soberest here, so I'll drive."

She was barely more sober than Mark or Ray, but she spoke with such authority that no one questioned it. Before Mark could offer his services, Camilla was already standing up and telling Phil, "I've got money in my wallet; I'll cash you out on the way there."  With one quick gesture from her, Phil rose to his feet and followed her to the stairs. 

"Wait!" Ray called out.  "I'd better go home too."

"Oh, did Sarah give you a curfew too?" Camilla asked matter-of-factly. 

"Um, not precisely, but ... she doesn't like when I'm out too late."

Normally, any of this would lead to endless ribbing and teasing from the other guys – but tonight, for some reason, no one even questioned it. "Come with me, too," Camilla instructed – and Alan complied without hesitation. 

Why is everyone treating her like she’s in charge here? Mark wondered. This is NOT normal!  And … curfews!?  What the HELL are they talking about??

"Alan?" Camilla asked next.

Alan shrugged. "I'm OK," he said softly. 

"You sure?"  She suddenly frowned. "Wait - you're not planning to walk home, are you?  It's not safe, at this hour."

Oh, brother! Mark groaned. Not this again. There were a couple reports in the news lately about men being supposedly mugged – or raped! – late at night. By women, if you can believe it. Which Mark frankly didn't. They say some women have surprising strength now, and can overpower men 'easily' ... but I'll believe it when I see it.

"He's only a couple blocks away, Camilla," Mark intoned. "And it's a safe neighborhood."

"That's what all the victims have said.  Hmm ... I don't have room in the car for you."  She clucked her tongue. "Wait here."

She went upstairs. Not a one of them - not even Mark - failed to watch her wide, firm caboose as she ascended. After thirty seconds of strange silence, Camilla returned. "Alan – Carly is on her way now to pick you up.  Dad, could you invite her inside for a drink?"

Mark was starting to lose it.  OK, just what the hell is going on??  She's half everyone's age, but giving all the orders – even to me!!  And why on earth couldn't Alan call his wife by himself?? 

"Dang … I wanted to stay longer," Alan whispered to himself, glumly. Mark barely overheard. But to Camilla, Alan nodded and said, “OK, thanks Camilla.”

What ... the ... HELL!?!

She straightened her shirt by tugging down. All the guys’ eyes – yes, even Mark’s – widened.  "Alright, boys, head on up," she instructed, pointing to Phil and then Ray.  "Oh – and you, too," she added, pointing to Nestor – who, without being given a reason, stood up right away, eagerly.  Camilla shepherded them up the stairs past her, putting her hand on Phil's and then Ray's shoulder in turn - and then on Nestor's bottom, where it lingered.

Mark understood now, and he groaned unhappily. He'd never be able to think of Nestor the same way again. But again, at her age, he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

He looked at how small Nestor was compared to her. He tried not to visualize the two of them … together … in Nestor’s bedroom.  But it was impossible not to.  He even pictured himself as Nestor again, gaping up at her, as she would inevitably peel off her blouse and—

Fuuuuck …

Unexpectedly, once the 'boys' were headed up, she turned and walked across the basement, stepping behind Mark.  Is she getting something back there? She--

Large, long arms draped over his shoulders and encircled his chest. They DID seem really big, up close. Holy hell, he thought, as his ‘imagining’ seemed a lot more real at the moment…

"Sorry to take over your party," she told him sweetly, her cheek brushing against his as she hugged him.  Was it bad that he felt just a little disappointed her chest didn't press into him too?  I've had wayyy too many beers...

"I didn't mean to stay so long,” she added.  “Hope you still had fun, though!  I sure did."

Oh no.  His cock had been giving little twitches most of the night, but now it was really waking up.  Just a normal physiological reaction, he told himself, unconvincingly.

"That's... fine," he replied, trying not to shudder. "I had fun too. And thanks for putting all of this together."

Camilla was delighted that her dad wasn't still sulking. She'd worried that taking his money again that last hand would put him in a foul mood. "You bet, Daddy,” she said warmly.  Since he seemed to be taking things well, she figured now was as good a time as any to drop some more news.  “Hey,” she told him casually, “I forgot to tell you earlier – I got a job today!  It doesn’t pay that well, but it’s well above minimum wage, at least!  I start next week.”

He didn’t say anything.  She felt his body stiffen; he seemed unhappy.  Dang, she thought.  I pushed too far.  I’m eager to tell him more about it – it’s in sales, sorta … and he used to be in sales!  I feel like we could really bond over it … That is, if he doesn’t sulk too long about it.  I know he just lost his job and it’s a sensitive issue, so …

She sighed.  There was nothing more to do right now, so she planted a kiss atop his head and said, “Just wanted to let you know.  Love ya.”

Mark couldn’t stop scowling as she rose up again and walked toward the stairs.  Any other night, he’d probably challenge her on this – Why does she need a job already?  I thought she was taking a few months off to recuperate from college.  She shouldn’t be working yet!  But it was yet another in a series of sucker-punches to his ego tonight, and he wasn’t quite ready to confront this issue yet.  My head’s swimming enough as it is, he thought, as he tried and failed to look away from her large, curvy backside stuffed in those tight pants.

He was a mess now, staring just as naughtily as Alan was, as she walked away.  He wondered how HE would have handled sitting next to her all night – the constant touching, the incredible view...

"Oh, and don't wait up," she told Dad, over her shoulder. He blinked and looked up at her just in time to see her wink.  "But i think you knew that."  

He knew she wasn’t trying to be sexy – not for him – but the combination of that wink, that suggestive smile, her curvy backside … the visuals of her overly developed body descending on scrawny little Nestor …

His dick was raging hard now.  He wished he could make it stop …

Camilla disappeared up the stairs.  Mark turned to Alan – and at least Mark snapped out of it quicker than his friend.  Alan suddenly blinked and looked at him.  "Sorry," he said.

"For what?" Mark replied, feigning ignorance.

"Nothing."

Mark drank another sip, hastily changing the subject.  "OK," he asked, "what the hell was all that about??  Curfews and such??"

Alan winced.  "It's nothing."

"It's not nothing!"

"Don't ask."

"What?"

"Seriously – don't ask."

"Why not??  You don't think I'll like what I hear?"

They heard a knock upstairs. Alan took another big swig. "That’s not why," he said, not looking Mark in the eye.  After another swig, he admitted in a low voice, "I'm not supposed to tell."

Mark did a double take, as his friend - possibly his best friend - got up to leave. Mark's head swam as he trailed Alan to the front door, where his tall wife was waiting.

"Hi, Alan," Carly greeted curtly, patting her husband's shoulder – rather like Camilla had, but not as friendly.  Carly seemed put off with him, probably about some dispute earlier that day, Mark guessed.  Odd, since Alan and his wife almost never fought, in the time Mark had known him.

Mark got a strange chill as Carly lifted her gaze to him.  Something in her demeanor troubled him.  He and Carly usually got along well, but …

"Hello, Mark," she said blandly, looking a good ways down at him.  He frowned.  She has high heels on – at this hour??  It made Mark feel even smaller and contributed to the odd feeling in his gut.

 He gulped without meaning to. "Hi, Carly," he croaked.  "Um ... can I get you a drink?"  He told himself he only asked this out of courtesy - not because Camilla asked him to.

"No, thank you.  We'll be going now."

Alan started to open his mouth and wave a farewell, but his wife was already steering him around and leading him away, not even giving him a chance to say goodbye. Carly is taller than Alan – but surely not stronger than him, right?  At least, they seem to have about the same build and muscle, at a glance.  Why would Alan let her lead him around like that?

This was all so confusing.  Alone now, he went down to finish his beer, then back up to get ready for bed. None of this made any sense at all.

* * *

Camilla noticed Phil's hands fretting nervously in the passenger's seat.  "Don’t worry," she consoled, patting his shoulder. "I'll talk to Lynn and explain that it's my fault you’re coming home late."

"But—"

"I think she'll listen to me. Just try to relax, honey."

"Yes, Camilla," he replied meekly. 

Camilla sighed sympathetically and increased the car's speed. A little faster won't hurt – I’m not sure how forgiving actually his wife is…

She heard Ray and Nestor murmuring to each other in the back seat. "No talking, please," she requested bluntly, making eye contact through the mirror.

They straightened up right away.  "Yes, Camilla," Ray replied.

"Sorry, Camilla," Nestor added.

"It's fine.  I just prefer silence while I drive."

Camilla smiled pleasantly, seeing the four grown men sitting quietly, all with their hands politely folded in their lap.  Ever since she’d switched to a more serious demeanor in the last few minutes, they had all responded beautifully.  None of them had to be told to stop joking anymore, or to listen closely, or any of that.  They simply sensed her change of tone and knew to adapt, without needing coaching.

It was only recently that she'd been privy to some of the inner workings of the new family and social structures that were developing all around them, and she VERY much liked what she'd seen so far.  The new way of doing things made so much sense to her, on a deep, intrinsic level.  She still had much to learn, and she couldn't wait!

When they reached Lynn's house, Camilla was delighted when Lynn granted her request for a private audience, pulling Camilla aside out of her husband’s hearing.  And Lynn, despite being twice Camilla’s age, seemed to treat her like an equal!  "Yes, Camilla?" she asked warmly.  "What did you want to speak about?"

"I'm entirely to blame for Phil being late. Between encouraging them to keep drinking, to causing distractions, and so on – it's my fault."

Lynn chuckled. "We both know you're NOT entirely to blame – barely at all, really.  But it's sweet of you to say so."

Camilla couldn't help but smile.  She likes Lynn a lot, and admired her greatly.  They'd interacted a few times lately, and Camilla hoped that trend continued.

"Well," Camilla admitted, "all the same, I promised Phil I'd vouch for him."

"Did you, now?  Hahaha!  That's very thoughtful. I can't say it'll actually make a difference – he's an adult, and responsible for his own actions – but if you'd like, I'll tell him you talked me down from a steeper punishment."

"You will?"

"Hell, why not?"

"That's great!  He likes me already, but this could only help."

Lynn sling her arm around Camilla's shoulder and laughed.  "Girl, he ADORES you.  I can see it in his eyes."  Lynn chuckled.  “He’s quite taken with you, I think …”

Camilla grimaced.  "You're not mad?  That he, you know, stares at me quite a bit...?"  She subconsciously pulled up on her neckline, worried that her questions had crossed a line.

But Lynn only laughed.  "He can stare all he wants!  Hell, even flirt with you, for all I care.  I know he'd never actually act on his little impulses.  And I know you certainly wouldn't do anything, either."

"Whew ... that's a relief!  And you're right – I certainly wouldn't!"  She smiled comfortably.  "So, can I ask: what ARE you going to do about your husband's tardiness? I'm just trying to learn how this all works."

"No problem!  I'll most likely just tell him I'll deal with him in the morning.  Make him sweat it out.  Honestly, that's often more effective than the actual punishment.  He'll generally assume it's worse than it actually is.  Ultimately, I'll just assign him some extra chores or revoke his next outing or something."

"Wow, cool!  I never would have thought of making him wait as a form of punishment in itself. I'll remember that."

"Sure.  It could be quite useful on Mark."

“Yeah, it—wait … WHAT!?!“  Camilla gasped.  "I... I just meant, I’d remember it for when I have a … a boyfriend someday – not my DAD!  Gosh!  I ... I..."

"You never thought of that?"

"Well, sure, I mean, it crossed my mind ... but I never actually considered it!  I mean, isn't that, like, over the line?"

Lynn just shrugged. She seemed surprisingly non-opposed to it.  "Men are men. You didn't expect him to remain head of the house forever, did you?"

Camilla went pale.  "I assumed he'd eventually find a woman to be with, and SHE'D be the one who ... Oh gosh ..."

Lynn laughed and patted her shoulder again. "Think it over.  You don't have to decide anything yet."

Camilla thanked her profusely but remained incredibly flustered as she headed out. "Bye, Phil," she said, but barely noticed when he did a terrible job of hiding his ogling.  She was too distracted.

The boys were still sitting silently when she got back in the car. For some reason, now, it made her ... wet ... just thinking about them being meek and submissive for her. She was attracted to little Nestor, in a strange, backwards way – I used to prefer tall, strong guys! – but even Ray, whom she wasn't physically attracted to, turned her on now, in his own way. Just the thought of being SUPERIOR to him, and him realizing that too...man, that's hot!!  It's like how I felt when squaring off against Dad in poker, and seeing him realize how helplessly outmatched he was against me ... that look of defeat in his eyes...

A car honked. Camilla swerved back into her lane just before hitting it. "Shit!" she exclaimed, correcting her course and breathing very hard – but not so much from the driving...

Oh God, she realized, I'm turned on by my dad. ... Well, not by HIM directly, just by what I DID to him.

She had no idea how to react to that information. But one look back at Nestor settled her mind. She permitted her hand to rub her crotch just briefly as she pressed the gas pedal and accelerated to borderline dangerous speeds.

"Umm ... C-Camilla?" Ray ventured, appearing nervous.

Camilla shot a glare at him and felt goosebumps when he fell immediately, obediently silent.  SO ... FUCKING ... HOT!!

They got to Ray’s house in no time.  She hardly waited for Ray to close the door as she pulled out of his driveway.  "Where do you live?" she asked Nestor hoarsely.

"W ... White Avenue and Melrose," her little passenger replied, oh so meekly.  He seemed frightened by her behavior as well. Excellent …

She did a mental calculation - his house was at least five miles away.  I can’t last that long.  She screeched the car to a halt on the shoulder.  "Front seat – NOW," she commanded, with fire in her eyes. She'd never seen anyone run so quickly or frightenedly as little Nestor.

As she peeled out, she took his hand and guided it to the button of her jeans. "Don't be afraid," she instructed. "Show me what your hand can do..." 

She heard the zipper coming down, then felt his tiny little hand slide past her pubes, finding his target immediately. Good, she thought. He knows his way around.  Good ... good ... HOLY FUCK, that's good...

She moaned and bucked and kept just enough attention on the road as she drove to his home. Once inside, she ripped his shirt to shreds and gave the soft, slender little man a night he wouldn't soon forget.

 

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

Saturday

Mark tried to ignore his headache as he brought breakfast to the table.  It’d been quite a while since he’d drunk as much as he had last night – or been this hungover.

"Where's Camilla?" Chloe asked, from the table.

"She's ... out."  He couldn't think of a better response. 

"What – like, at a guy's house?"

Mark twitched and spilled some scrambled egg on the table. His bad poker face apparently translated to other walks of life too, as Chloe immediately read his expression.  "Yep!” she replied.  “I guess so –haha!"

Kyle grumbled unhappily, no more keen to learn his sister's activities than Mark was.  But Kayla, the youngest, blinked in surprise and leaned forward in interest. "You mean SEX??" she whispered to Chloe, probably much louder than she intended. 

"Yes, Kayla," Chloe replied, rolling her eyes at her younger sister.  "Sex.  Heard of it?" she asked sarcastically.

"Girls..." Mark warned.

They were too absorbed, though. "Who with?" Kayla wondered aloud.

"GIRLS ..."

"I dunno," Chloe replied thoughtfully. "Her college friends are way far away.  She wasn't anywhere last night but here, and—OH MY GOD."

"What??" said Kayla.

"Chloe!!" Mark blurted anxiously.

"She slept with one of Dad's friends!” Chloe exclaimed.  “She MUST have!!"

"Oh my God, Dad," Kayla asked, turning her wide eyes to him.   "Is it true!?"

He hadn't expected this. He was flustered. "I ... that's... um, why would ... uh …"

"Holy crap, it's true!" Chloe affirmed. She and Chloe were REALLY animated now, sitting on the edge of their seats and bouncing with excitement. "Which one?  Which of your friends, Dad??"

Of all the ways to start my day, he thought, massaging his throbbing temples.  "We're not discussing it," he said dryly.

"Please, Dad??"  Kayla joined in too.  "Please please please please—"

Mark gripped the table, his face reddening.  “That’s enough!!” he roared, taking a big breath and about to launch into a tirade – when the door to the garage opened behind him.  He turned around to see Camilla strolling in, looking fresh and clean and well-rested – but wearing the same outfit as last night … that same low-cut blouse, showing far too much cleavage.  His eyes were drawn to her chest by simple male instinct, and this fact irritated him immensely.

"You're here!!" he heard both girls exclaim, as they rushed up to her.  As small as he felt next to Camilla, her sisters were much tinier still. She'd always been their 'big sister', but it was clearer than ever, lately.  Them craning their necks up at her made them seem several years younger than they were, by comparison.

Camilla gave a wry smile.  "What's happening?" she inquired, sensing the strange mood in the room.  She set her shoulder bag down, and Chloe immediately poked through it.

"Shampoo!  Deodorant! Change of underwear!  It's true!!"

Camilla turned a quizzical eye to Mark.  Mark stopped frowning unhappily at her chest just in time to look her in the eye.  The memory of what had transpired last night made her sudden appearance all the more rattling.

"They guessed where you were last night," he admitted sheepishly.  "I didn't tell them, but—"

"Who'd you sleep with??” Chloe couldn’t help but interject, bursting with excitement.  “Was it Alan?  He's kinda cute."  Mark's eyes boggled, as Chloe went on, "Or, um, what's his name ..."

Camilla was dying with laughter on the inside. This was just way too funny to hold in.  "It was Nestor," she declared.  "You know, the short one with black curls?"

THAT really stirred the pot. Her sisters screeched deafening, asking a million questions per breath. She also noticed her father visibly squirming and frowning – it was actually kinda cute, in fact.  Her brother also seemed unhappy and was trying to tune them out … and failing.

"Why HIM??" Chloe kept asking.  And some more personal questions, too: "Isn't he too small for you??" Etcetera.   Camilla rolled her eyes with a sly grin and let these questions go unanswered. 

But when Kayla asked, "So is he your boyfriend now?" Camilla laughed.

"God, no,” Camilla told them bluntly.  “It was just one night."

"But are you gonna see him again?" asked Chloe.

Camilla shrugged and replied honestly, "I dunno.  Maybe.  We'll see if I wanna call him again."

"Huh?" Kayla asked.  "Aren't guys supposed to call girls?"

Camilla chuckled down at her.  "Not anymore.  Things are switched now."

"Really??" Chloe asked.  She didn't seem aware of this – and neither was Mark, for that matter.  He frowned deeply.

"You bet," said Camilla.

She must be exaggerating, he mused.  Or expressing a minority opinion.

His thoughts were interrupted as Chloe turned to him now.  "How do YOU feel about this, Dad?" she asked.

His cheeks grew a little hotter.  "I ... don't have an opinion," he lied.

"Whaaat?  C’mon, you’ve gotta have SOME sort of—"

"It doesn't concern me!" he snapped, harsher than intended.  "She's free to date who she wants!"  Embarrassed by his outburst, he scooped some eggs onto his plate and ate angrily.

"Oooooh..." he heard his two youngest daughters whisper.  He made himself ignore them – but, oddly, Camilla was not so easy to ignore.  She sat down with them and didn’t say a word … but he could feel her eyes on him, watching him, gauging his thoughts.  Just like playing poker with her, he thought sourly, feeling an uncomfortable chill run through him.  God, last night was rough.  Losing money to her, and seeing her flirt with my friends like that, with her over-developed body on display, just like it is now, and …

He closed his eyes and massaged his temples again.  His headache seemed a lot worse now.  And as much as he tried to get her out of his head, he simply couldn’t.

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

Monday

 “Alright, see you kids later,” Mark said, as Chloe, Ryan, and Kayla left for school.

“Bye, Dad,” Kayla said cheerfully.  “Have a good day at work!”

“Um … thanks.”  He tried not to wince.

They left, and he headed toward the kitchen.  He froze with one foot in the door – Camilla was there.  He tensed up involuntarily.  It was too late to turn around, so he went forward.

“You really don’t wanna tell them?” asked his daughter, who was buttering some toast.

“What’s the point?”

“I mean, you might as well tell them now.  They’re going to find out eventually.”

“Well, not if I find another job first.”

Camilla had just taken a bite of toast, and she almost choked on it.  “Say what??”

He shrugged.  “With my qualifications and experience, I figure it should only take a couple days to land something comparable to my last job.  Even if the job market’s a bit tight, I—“

“Dad,” she said incredulously, “there is no job market for you.”

“Excuse me?”

I can’t believe I have to explain this to him!!  “Companies just don’t hire men to those kinds of positions anymore.  They just don’t.”

“What are you talking about??  Yeah, some companies – like my last one – have changed management and might have that kind of philosophy, but I’m sure there are plenty of other companies who are still perfectly reasonable and hire on both sides, and—“

While he was talking, his daughter inched closer to him, and now she reached out and touched his upper arm gently.  “Honey,” she interrupted, with a sympathetic voice, “I don’t think you understand the extent of how society’s changed.”

Looking up at her, he suddenly felt intensely uncomfortable.  She has literally never called me ‘honey’ before, he realized.  It’s like how she talked to the guys the other night – it sounds almost … condescending.  And with her roughly 9 inch height advantage over him, and broad figure, it made him almost queasy.

He wanted to back away, but he made himself stay put.  “I’m highly qualified,” he repeated.  “Maybe sales isn’t right for me anymore – I guess I can see that – but there’s got to be plenty of good jobs out there where I can use my people skills and organization skills in a less intense one-on-one environment, and … well, I think companies would be stupid not to hire me, frankly.”

Camilla was in disbelief.  Is he SERIOUSLY that blind?!?  And dense???  She took a deep breath and explained patiently, “It’s true that sales might be changing a little faster than other professions, but society’s only going to keep changing – and fast.  Women are wanting their men to stay home more and more.  What company would invest in a man, only to have him quit a month later?”

He seemed scandalized by this.  “Well, it’s a good thing I’m single, then!” he practically shouted, jerking his arm away.  “Obviously, that doesn’t apply to me!  I’m going to keep working and provide for my family!”

“I’m just trying to avoid for you the disappointment of applying for jobs and getting rejected,” she replied, very reasonably and helpfully.  “All that’ll accomplish is hurting your self-esteem, honey.”

For some reason, he REALLY blew up at this.  “I don’t need your advice – or your sympathy!!  This discussion is over.”

Camilla watched him storm away.  How can he be so … immature??  Yes, that’s the word.  For crying out loud, he’s acting like a teenager about this!  I know it’s a hard situation, but yelling and storming off won’t accomplish anything – especially when I’m just being helpful.

Still, it didn’t seem like her place to force the issue.  And she decided not to remind him about her own job, which she was starting that day – a saleswoman at a nice clothing store in the mall.  Just an entry-level position, but perfect for her right now, as she hadn’t yet finished her degree but had terrific people skills and ambition.  She’d start off on a (fairly low) fixed hourly rate, but eventually if – no, when – she performed well enough, she could start raking in some good money with commissions.  Who knows; maybe someday she’ll end up as a full-time saleswoman at a big firm like Dad’s old company!

She still really wanted to share this with him, and make him proud of her following in his footsteps and all … but with his immature reaction just now, she worried he might actually find a way to get pissed off about it, as ridiculous as that would be.  So she wouldn’t tell him for now.  Maybe if he grows up soon, she thought dubiously.

* * *

Camilla hit things off incredibly well with her new boss Vanessa that afternoon, as she showed Camilla around and got her set up.  Camilla was pleased to see that the store had recently upgraded their employee attire from their old unisex look of pants and button down shirt to a much more flattering and professional skirt suit look.  Vanessa explained that, with the entire sales staff now being female, an outfit that both men and women could wear was no longer an issue and so they were adopting a more stylish look.  And more professional, too – as Vanessa explained, with so many more women in the workplace now, professional looks were all the rage in women’s fashion.

The high heels were a bit of a surprise.  They were fairly normal – black, with a four inch heel, not especially showy.  But Camilla never used to wear heels when she was smaller, and now at her size she hadn’t really even considered wearing them.  “Won’t they get uncomfortable?” she asked, leery of wearing them for hours on the job.

“These ones have great arch support and padding,” Vanessa assured her.  “Trust me, you won’t even notice them at the end of the day.  However, if you really want to, we can swap you out for flats.”

“No, no, I’ll give them a try.”  Actually, Camilla was a little excited to see how the world looked from an even taller perspective.

She tried them on, and it was incredible.  She laughed delightedly, feeling like an absolute giant now.  A man happened to walk by, and he looked as tiny as a mouse!  It was even fun to look slightly down on Vanessa now, too.  “I love them!” she exclaimed.  “Gosh … can I bring these home with me, too?”  Just think how tiny my siblings will look – and Dad, too!  That thought really tickled her.

“Of course!  They’re yours to hang on to.  But you also get a nice employee discount on our entire store; I highly recommend taking advantage of that.”

“Oh, I will for sure!”  Definitely starting in the shoes section, she thought with a grin.  Her grin widened even more as she caught her reflection in a full-length mirror – Damnnn, I look hot!!  The skirt suit was tight and clung to her curves fantastically, without being constricting.  And it especially accentuated her prominent breasts, which pushed the lapels of her jacket apart and showed a tasteful amount of creamy cleavage above her moderately low-cut blouse.  The whole ensemble looked absolutely fantastic.

* * *

Camilla got along great with the customers, answering their questions as best she could or directing them to someone who could better assist them.  She was surprised by just how many more women than men were shopping there, even in the afternoon when most women (and still some men) were at work.  During a lull, she made friends with another new coworker – Maggie – and Maggie explained it this way: “First of all, women are growing, so they always need new outfits, which makes them come her much more often in general.  But also, men have a harder time getting here too.”

“Huh?” Camilla replied.  “It seems like this’d be the perfect time for guys to go shopping, while their wives are at work.”

“True – but how are they gonna get here?  They need to find someone to take them, which makes it harder.”

“Oh.”  Camilla frowned.  “I mean, it’s obviously too dangerous to let guys go out alone at night—“

“Clearly.”

“—but I guess I thought most guys were still free to go out during the day … right?”

“Oh, honey, you’re behind the times!  A lot of women might still allow grocery store trips and other stuff close to home … but letting a guy drive all across town on his own and be gone for multiple hours?  You’d be hard-pressed to find a woman willing to allow that.  Unless he’s supervised, of course.”

Camilla’s eyebrows rose.  She thought Maggie might be exaggerating – until she took a closer look around the store.  It was true: the few men in the store were all accompanied by a woman, sometimes older or sometimes younger.  But not a single man in sight was here on his own.

“Oh … my … god,” she breathed.  “Why didn’t I know about this?!?”

Maggie shrugged.  “Trends like this catch on really fast.  It wasn’t this noticeable just a couple weeks ago.  Besides, women generally don’t broadcast these types of family decisions; they like to keep it to themselves.  And I think the media tends to respect that, too.”

Holy hell!  “I thought I was up on these things, but … geez!” Camilla exclaimed.  “So, is it really just about the men’s safety?”

“Maybe.  I dunno.  You’d have to ask one of their wives.”

Camilla nodded pensively.  Gosh, I wonder if any of Dad’s friends are restricted this way; I never thought to ask!  I will DEFINITELY have to talk to Lynn or some of the other women about it!

It gave her an excited, almost giddy feeling as she resumed working.  She saw all these men at the store in an entirely new light now.

“May I help you find something?” she asked one such man – probably 10 years older than her – and now she was secretly thrilled when his first instinct was to bite his lip and turn his head toward a woman standing about 10 feet away.  The woman looked up from the clothes rack and strode toward them.

Actually, she looked a year or two younger than Camilla – so, way younger than the guy.  “Hi!” she said cheerfully.  “I’m supposed to help him find some new clothes for everyday.  His wife said his clothes look too ‘dumpy’, haha, and she could never convince him to go out shopping before.”  She turned his way and grinned.  “But now you’re stuck with me for the day – isn’t that right, Benny?”

He hesitated only a moment before saying, “Yes, Alice.”

“We’ll be here a while,” Alice added.  “Cheer up, big guy!”

The guy lowered his eyes and seemed a little sad.  Camilla found it cute, actually.

“We just started, and he’s already sulking,” Alice told Camilla, playfully rolling her eyes.

Camilla laughed.  “Well, I’m here to help!  What’s first on the list?”

“Do you have any of those European shirts with the low neck – know what I’m talkin’ about?”

“I sure do.  I think we have some over here …”

“Great.  I think his wife’ll love those.”

‘Benny’ looked crestfallen – he clearly hated that style.  But he seemed to know he had no say in the matter.

As Camilla led them forward, she asked, “By the way, are you two related?  You look a little similar.”

“Yep!  Benny’s my cousin.”

Camilla’s eyebrows rose.  “Really?  How much age difference, if I may ask?”

“Benny’s, like, 11 years older than me.”

Camilla’s eyes widened slightly, as Alice went on, “Hey Benny, remember that time when you took me shopping when I was a little kid??  You were, like, twice my size then!  Hahaha!”

“I remember,” Benny replied sadly.

Camilla was beaming now.  Society is DEFINITELY moving in the right direction!  This is so freaking cool!

“Well, I think it’s great that you’re watching over him.  Here – on the left, is that what you had in mind?”

* * *

“Wow, thank you SO much for helping us out for so long, Camilla,” Alice said, as they approached the register.  “You didn’t have to do all that!”

“No, I loved it!” Camilla said truthfully.  “Besides, it’s what I’m here for.”  At the register, Alice set a pile of clothes on the counter then Camilla laid the rest on top.  There’d been too much for just one person to carry.

Meanwhile, Benny sulked behind them.  Camilla turned and caught him staring at her body again, which made her want to laugh.  She’d caught him checking her out at least half a dozen times in the last hour, and each time he quickly looked away as if hoping she hadn’t noticed.  Camilla intentionally stuck her butt out a little extra as she set the clothes on the counter, and turned back to see him already staring at her again, his eyes a bit wider this time.

“Tsk,” she scolded playfully, and his eyes almost popped out as he straightened up and blushed deeply, seeming torn between feigning ignorance and apologizing.

He’d only spoken his mind once in the whole hour and a half, and that was to say how much he hated the outfit he was wearing and all the other outfits he’d tried on – but one threatening rebuke from Alice had shut him right up.  He hadn’t said a word since.  So … freaking … cute, Camilla thought.  And amazing, on Alice’s part.  I have to learn how she did that!

Her boss, Vanessa, happened to be running the counter at the moment.  She was quite surprised indeed with how much clothing had just been set down.  The bill, as she rang them up, ran into the several hundreds.  And the entire time, Alice kept pouring on praise: “Are you Camilla’s boss?  Well, she is by far the BEST saleswoman in the mall!!  She talked me into buying way more than I would have otherwise.  Seriously – I don’t know how long she’s been working her, but give that woman a raise!!”

Vanessa was pleased as punch.  “It’s her first day, actually.”

“WHAAAT???  No way!!  Camilla, you’re freaking awesome!!”  She literally hugged Camilla in front of her boss.  “Seriously, I’m gonna tell my friends to come shop with you!”

Camilla walked her out, waved goodbye, and returned to the counter.  Vanessa just chuckled and shook her head, with a big grin on her face.  “Hell of a start, Camilla.  You’ll do well here.”

“Thank you, Vanessa!  I’ll get back to it.”

Her boss still had a smile on her face as Camilla left.  Best start imaginable!!

* * *

Camilla helped a few other ladies here and there, then made her way toward the men’s section again.  On the way, a man intercepted her.  He was tall – about 6’3”, she guessed – which would put him 3 inches shorter than her normally, but more like 6 or 7 inches shorter in her heels.  He was stockily built, too, and may have even had a slight advantage over Camilla in body weight as well as muscle mass.  Quite impressive! Camilla mused.  Not many guys can say that, nowadays.

“Hey!” he accosted sharply.  “Are you Camilla??”

She eyed his aggressive stance with curiosity.  “Yes, I am,” she declared openly.

“So YOU’RE the bitch they hired to replace me, huh!?”  He jabbed a finger in the air not far from her shoulder.  “Think you can do your job better than me!??”

This was certainly a surprise, but Camilla adapted quickly.  “I’m not aware of the circumstances,” she said down to him smoothly, “but you’ll need to speak to Vanessa.”

“Bitch, I’m talkin’ to YOU!!  What the fuck gives you the right to take my job!?!”  He jabbed the air again, coming dangerously close to her collarbone.

She could see that reasoning with him would accomplish nothing – but she could not allow this to go on.  “I’m going to have to ask you to calm down, sir,” she told him flatly.

“Oh, yeah??”

“Yes.  And leave the store.”

He threw his head back and laughed.  Then he peeled off his jacket, revealing an even more impressive physique than expected.  Very few men would be able to match him in strength.  He flexed for show and said cockily, “Fucking make me!!  Oh, what, you gonna call some security guards to help you – huh?  Huh??”

He began shoving her shoulder – once, twice … harder each time.  On the third, Camilla had had enough.

* * *

“Owww!!!  Jesus – let me go!!!”

The would-be ‘macho man’ had degraded into a wimpy, mewling wreck after just a few seconds of Camilla twisting his arm behind his back.  He clearly had never seen it coming; he might have actually thought he was stronger than her, in fact.  And maybe he was still stronger than a handful of women nowadays … but not Camilla.  He put up quite a struggle at first, but the ever-increasing pressure from her arm was quickly bringing him to heel.

 “Holy fuck!!” he hissed, his face red with exertion and pain as he lost the battle entirely.

“Be quiet,” Camilla commanded.  She twisted his arm back even farther, forcing his torso to double over as he gasped and stumbled forward under her direction.  “It’ll only hurt if you struggle.”

The big, lumbering idiot kept stupidly struggling and crying out.  Finally, he got the hint and stopped writhing, and suddenly the pain went away – well, mostly.  She didn’t want to leave him any wiggle room.  She heard a few whimpers from him as he became totally docile, his feet shuffling to keep up with her measured pace.

Vanessa saw them coming and stepped out from the counter.  “What’s going on??”

“You know this guy?” Camilla asked calmly.

Vanessa bent to look at his downturned face.  “Chad??” she said in surprise.  Vanessa straightened and told Camilla, “Yes – he’s a former employee.  We let him go last week.  Why are you holding him like that?  What happened?”

“He was extremely belligerent and needs to be thrown out.  Apparently he feels I stole his job from him, and his solution was to try to bully and intimidate me.”

Vanessa slowly nodded.  “I thought I heard a man shouting.  I supposed I’m not entirely surprised he’d try something like this.  Shall I have a guard escort him off the premises?”

“I’d like to do it myself, if that’s alright.  I’ve been bullied by enough men over the years that it feels good to do something about it for once.  I won’t hurt him.”

“Fine with me, I suppose.”

Camilla nodded, then tugged the big guy’s wrist.  “Are you going to cause trouble if I let go of your arms, Chad?” she asked simply.

She could sense the bully in him still wanting to come out, but finally a spark of reason prevailed.  “No,” he said wimpily.  “No trouble.”

Camilla released his wrists immediately and helped him stand upright.  She kept a hand on his back, though, as a reminder.  “Alright.  Let’s go.”

His cheeks were red, burning with embarrassment and humiliation.  Looks like bullies don’t respond well to being knocked down a peg, she mused.  All the more reason why it’s important to put them through this.  She chuckled inwardly.  Listen to me philosophizing, haha.

She escorted him all the way to the entrance to the mall and then a few steps outside.  “Do I need to worry about you coming back here again?” she demanded.

The big jerk couldn’t even look her in the eye.  “No,” he mumbled, eyeing the pavement.

She took a deep breath.  God, I wish I could just rough him up a little.  I’m sure he’s just gonna go on being a dick once he leaves.  “Just remember,” she tried anyway, “I’m not the only strong woman around nowadays.  You might want to take a long, hard look at yourself and rethink your behavior – or maybe the next woman won’t let you walk away so easily.”

He took a couple steps and looked back.  “Yeah, whatever,” he sneered, flipping her the bird before storming off.

Camilla ground her teeth and clenched her fist.  Clearly much more is needed here.  If only I were allowed to—

She shook her head and returned inside.  He’s not even worth it.  Prick.

* * *

Other than that, Camilla had a stupendous first day.  She got home and wished she could tell her dad all about it – but he was in a mood again, and telling him would only make it worse.  Obviously, his job search had not gone well so far, but that was zero percent surprising.

She wanted to tell someone, though, and the first person that came to mind was Lynn – Phil’s wife.

“Hello?”

“Hi – is this Lynn?”

“This is she.”

“Lynn!  This is Camilla.  So sorry to call you like this.  I just had an amazing day and so many questions to ask, and you seemed like someone who would have the right answers.  I hope I’m not out of line …”

“What kind of questions?”

“Oh – about men, how to deal with certain things men do, how Phil has responded to the, um, changes – if you don’t mind me asking – and … things like that.”

“Ah.”  Lynn paused only a moment before deciding, “I’m happy to share.  But I suggest meeting in person might be best, don’t you think?  Say, why don’t you bring your father over some night this week?  I’ll have Phil make a nice dinner, and then the boys can do their own thing while we girls talk.”

“Wow, that sounds great!  Oh … but what if Dad’s not up for it?  It could be hard to convince him.  Most nights, he doesn’t even want to leave the house – especially if he’s in a bad mood.”  And he definitely will be this week.

Surprisingly, Lynn laughed.  “My … you DO have a lot to learn.”

“Huh?”

“If that’s the case, I’m certain you can find a way to change his mind.  There are plenty of tools at a woman’s disposal.  A man’s opinions aren’t that important, really.  Just pick a date and time and let me know – and worry about him afterward.  We’re free every night this week and weekend, by the way.”

Camilla was all but speechless again.  “Well … O-OK, then.”  She said some quick goodbyes then hung up and stared at the wall.  ‘A man’s opinions aren’t important’.  Wow – she sounded like she really meant that.

She knew that her situation with Dad was far different than Lynn and Phil’s, though.  She’d have to do some work to convince him – but maybe it was doable.

 

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

Tuesday

Camilla called Lynn the next morning.  “I got it!” she announced proudly.

“Oh?”

“There’s a basketball game tomorrow night – Duke versus North Carolina.  I guess it’s supposed to be a big game?  And my dad went to North Carolina.“

“Phil went to Duke.”

“Sweet!  I’m sure they’ll want to get together for it.  The game’s at 8:15, apparently.”

“Great.  Let’s have you over at 7, so we can eat first.  I’ll invite some of the other gals and guys too, if you don’t mind.”

“For sure!  The more, the better!”

“Alright – it’s decided.  See you tomorrow.”

“See you then!  Bye!”

Camilla felt a nervous, giddy sort of feeling, like she’d just done something naughty – which, technically, she had.  Dad would flip his shit if he knew I’d made plans on his behalf without him knowing.  I’ll have to be careful how I bring it up to him, haha…

* * *

She approached her father a bit nervously.  “Hey, Dad, I—“

“Sorry, Camilla, I’m real busy,” he said, not even looking up from his computer screen.

Camilla leaned in a bit closer.  He was on a job search website – and some of the filters he was using were downright ridiculous.  A desired salary of $50K and up??  Are you friggin’ serious???

“OK, sorry,” she said quickly, starting to leave.  But then she had a thought.  “Um … random question: there’s a big basketball game tomorrow, right?”

“Huh?”  He still didn’t look up.  He clicked a few more times before replying, “Uh … yeah.  Tomorrow.  Why?”

“I dunno … maybe it’d be fun if you went over to Phil’s house to watch?  He went to Duke, right?”

“… What?  Oh.  He did, yeah.  Now, if you don’t mind …”  He shooed her with his hand.

“So you’re OK with a get-together at Phil’s house tomorrow?”

“Huh?  Yeah, I guess.  Please, Camilla …”

“OK.  Sorry to bother you.”  She ducked out quickly and fist-pumped.  Perfect.

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

Wednesday

 “What do you mean, ‘you’re coming’??” Mark exclaimed, staring up at Camilla.

“You said we could have a get-together at Phil’s house – remember?”

“I didn’t mean you!!  I’m just going to watch the game!!”

“Well, Lynn and Phil are expecting both of us for dinner,” Camilla declared – rather too curtly, for Mark’s taste.  “So maybe dress up a bit?  And they’ve invited some other couples, too.”

Aye yai yai!   Mark frowned in consternation.  “Now, why’d you go and do that,” he complained.

“You were so busy yesterday, so I coordinated with Lynn myself.  Sorry, Dad … but we’re eating early enough that you and the guys can watch the whole game in peace.  We’ll stay out of your hair.”

He rolled his eyes.  She’s talking like she’s ‘one of the girls’ – Ha!!  She’s half the other women’s age, and has nothing in common with them.

He sighed.  “Fine.  Whatever.  But next time, let me do the coordinating.”

“Understood.”

* * *

He stepped out of his bedroom and his eyes nearly popped out when he saw what Camilla was wearing – a ruffled blouse with a verrrry low neckline, and a skirt that fit much too tightly around her caboose.  The goods she had on display were actually a little staggering.  He wavered a moment before dragging his eyes upwards and recovering quickly.  “Ohhhh, no.  Not a chance,” he said flatly.

Camilla was caught very much off-guard.  “Huh?  Oh … haha, very funny, Dad.”  She rolled her eyes at his bad joke and started toward the fridge.

Her dad put a hand on her arm and glared up at her.  “It wasn’t a joke,” he said firmly.

Camilla blinked in surprise.  “What, you’re serious??  Good grief, Dad – I’m 20 years old!”

“Sure, but—“

“And what’s the big deal?  It’s not like your friends will stare at me, with their wives in the room.”

He grimaced.  That may be true, but her VERY large breasts are practically hanging out of her top!!  It’s extremely distracting – ahem, not for me, just for everyone else …

“Camilla, I’m asking you—“

“And I’m saying no!”  She flicked his hand off her arm and scowled down at him.  She had to work hard to keep her temper down.  This is ridiculous!!  “I’m sorry, Dad, but I have to draw a line here!  I’m too old for you to be dictating these things.”  Yet another thing I can’t believe I have to explain to him.

He shot a hard glare up at her, but she didn’t bat an eye.  Maybe it’s a silly time for me to make a stand, she thought, but I will not budge on this – it’s simply absurd!

Dad seemed to be mentally running through his options.  Finally, he gave an exasperated sigh.  “Fine.  It’s not worth arguing.”  He started to turn, then smiled impishly.  “However, as you said, you’re 20 – and not 21 – so I’m afraid I can’t allow you to drink alcohol tonight.  Sorry, honey …”

He saw her temper really flare for a few moments, then slowly settle back down.  Ohhh, she does not like that one bit!  Haha … well, too bad.

He turned and sported a victorious grin as he walked to the car, with his daughter staring daggers at his back.  Ha!

* * *

A few minutes later, Mark started to put on his North Carolina Tar Heels jersey, but he remembered Lynn was a bit on the prim and proper side, and with the dinner beforehand she just might object.  Just to be polite, he changed into a nice pair of jeans and a button-down shirt.

He was glad he changed, though, because Phil answered the door dressed even nicer: black slacks and a dark shirt with … pink floral patterns.

“Wow, you look good, Phil!” Camilla complimented.

Mark almost lost his mind.  What the fuck is he wearing?? Mark thought.  Phil always wears jerseys to watch games, and he’d be the last one to be caught dead in something like that!

Phil blushed at Camilla’s compliment, and his eyes widened when he saw her low-cut blouse.  “N-Nice to see you,” he said quickly, coughing and lifting his gaze.  “Come in and make yourself comfortable.  I—oh, drat!!”  The kitchen timer had just started going off, and Phil rushed off.  “Come in, come in,” he called over his shoulder, as he disappeared.

Mark and Camilla exchanged bemused glances and followed him inside.  In the kitchen, Phil was a flurry of activity, trying to man the stove, oven, and cutting board all at once.

“Need help?” Camilla generously suggested.

“Nonsense!” Lynn called out, stepping into the room.  She was looking fabulous, wearing a dinner dress that looked just right on her.  And heels.  Man, those make her look tall, Mark noted, gulping slightly.

“There’s drinks for us in the study,” she told Camilla.  “I’m sure the boys can handle things in here, eh?”

This tickled Camilla.  “Oh, I’m sure they can!” she replied, following Lynn out.  She saw her dad start to follow her.  She and Lynn exchanged an amused smile, and Camilla turned and told her dad playfully, “I think you’d better stay and help with the cooking, bud!”

Mark listened to his daughter’s chuckles echo down the hall.  He was stunned.  “Help with cooking??  The hell I will!!  Phil, did you hear—”

“Damn it!” Phil cursed, burning his hand on the pan of roasted chicken as he pulled it out of the oven.  “Mark, would you mind slicing some vegetables??” he said in a harried voice, kicking the oven closed with his foot as he carried the pan to the counter.

Mark scoffed.  “Haha, very funny.  The day I come over to your house and help you cook dinner while your wife sits around, is the day I—“

“Please, Mark!?!  Lynn’s gonna be pissed if dinner’s not done by the time everyone arrives!!”

The near-panic in Phil’s voice froze Mark in his tracks.  “I … I’m sure it’ll be OK, buddy,” he replied quietly, if less confidently.

He was just deciding what to do, when two surprisingly strong hands attacked his ribs.  He yelped and convulsed.

“Surprise!!  Hey, Mark – long time no see!!”

Ugh – of course.  “Hi, Carly,“ he replied, fending the fingers away.  He turned around … and his jaw dropped.  Alan’s wife – once a super petite, tiny little red-haired sparkplug of a woman who had been almost a foot shorter than him – was not so tiny anymore.  Now tall and lanky, her shoulders cleared Mark’s head by a good two inches, at least!! It took him a second to realize she was wearing heels – but still, she was at least as tall as Camilla now!!

“Holy …”  He inhaled sharply.  “H-H … How tall are … uh …??”

“6 foot 7!” the spunky redhead declared down to him proudly.  “Actually, 6 foot 7 and a half, as of this morning!   The doctors say everyone grows at different rates, and I guess I happen to grow faster than most, so … hahaha, you should see your face!!”

Gathering his wits was difficult.  He’d always secretly found his friend’s young wife quite attractive – she was only 26, Mark believed; about a decade younger than Alan and almost 20 years younger than Mark – but had always considered that her one flaw was being too short.  Well, that was certainly not the case now.  Her long, supple body could easily grace the cover of a fashion magazine and would steal the show on a runway, if you asked Mark.  But the new perspective was downright unsettling.

“Hi, Phil,” Carly added casually.  “Hope you don’t mind us letting ourselves in!”

“Of course!” Phil replied quickly.  “No problem.  Welcome.”  The juices from the pan were starting to run, drawing his attention away.

“Looks tasty!”  Carly turned back to smile down at Mark.  “What’ve you been up to, stud?” she asked, shifting her weight to one insanely long leg.

Mark shuddered.  They had always had a totally non-serious, just-for-pretend flirtatious relationship, and ‘stud’ was how Carly always started it off.  It had started a year ago as a joke about how Alan could have managed to land such a ‘hot babe’ ten years younger than him.  It had evolved into them joking that Mark would steal her from Alan if he wasn’t careful.  It had always been something easily laughed off before – but now …

Phil saved him by saying, “Hi, Carly – sorry to interrupt, but could I borrow Alan for a minute??”

“Oh – for sure!  I think that’s my cue, haha – I’ll go chat with the girls.  Living room?”

“No – study.”

“Got it.”  She waved Alan past her, then winked at Mark.  “Don’t burn the house down,” she teased, then strode off.

Mark’s head was spinning, and not just from the sight of Carly’s legs (though, that was part of it).  He hoped Alan at least could help him make sense of all this – but Alan was already at the counter, working intently with Phil to lift the chicken onto a serving platter and arrange the presentation.

“Uh … hey, guys,” Mark tried.

“Not now,” Phil and Alan said in unison, still focusing.

Mark was dumbfounded.  Never in a thousand years did I expect to find Phil running a kitchen – or Alan helping him!

The doorbell rang just a minute later.  “Damn!” Phil hissed, kicking into overdrive.  “Alan, would you chop some vegetables for the salad and help set the table??”

Alan didn’t hesitate.  “You got it.”  He started chopping away, as Phil made brief eye contact with Mark before rushing to the front door.

Moments later, Phil was politely directing Ray’s wife, Hana, to the study, as Ray stepped up to the kitchen counter.  “How can I help?” he asked straight away, without any prompting.

“Transfer the dressing to a bowl and carry things to the table?” Phil requested.

Ray nodded and got to work.  “Hi, Mark,” he added, along the way.  Mark’s stillness puzzled him.  “What’s Mark helping with?” he heard Ray mutter to Phil.  Phil just shrugged and kept working.

Mark suddenly felt like a jerk for dawdling – but his mind was still trying to catch up, frankly.  He started to offer to carry something, but the guys worked so fast they had it all done in no time.

“Thanks, guys,” Phil said to the group, then went to the study.

Mark awkwardly approached the other two.  “Sorry I didn’t help.  I just, uh …”

“Don’t worry about it,” Alan dismissed quietly.  “It’s fine.”

“But what is going on with—“

Boisterous female laughter flooded the hallway, then the kitchen, as the four towering ladies stepped through.  Someone must have said something extremely funny, as Camilla and Carly in particular were in the middle of side-splitting laughter.

“What’s the joke?” he asked up at his daughter.

Camilla exchanged glances with Carly and laughed some more.  “Just an inside thing,” she dismissed, waving it off.

“Please, sit where you like,” Phil cut in, gesturing graciously to the table.  The women nodded to him in appreciation and went to the table – which had been set in record time, by the way.  You would never know it had been bare a minute ago.

Mark noticed all four women sat first, each leaving an empty space beside them.  Then the men all trailed in and took their appointed seats.  Mark was slowest on the draw, and found his daughter smiling at him and nodding to the chair next to her, after the rest had already sat down.

The strange, surreal feeling persisted as Mark took his seat.  That’s when he noticed the half-empty glass of wine in Camilla’s hand – as with the other women – and he rather peevishly leaned toward her and reminded in a low voice, “You promised you wouldn’t drink tonight.”

His daughter leaned closer, too.  “Please don’t embarrass me, Dad,” she countered, unexpectedly.  “Things operate differently around here.  Just go with the flow.”

“Do WHAT!?!” he hissed, still keeping his voice down.  “So I’m just supposed to accept all this bizarre behavior as normal???”

“Please, Dad,” Camilla whispered, with supplicating eyes.  “It’s just for the dinner part.  Afterwards, you guys can go watch your game on your own.”

Camilla watched her father's jaw drop open, but she didn't have time to keep explaining the obvious to him.  "Mmm ... the chicken's fabulous, Phil!" Hana praised, and Camilla tried it too.

"Yeah!" she agreed. "Very tasty!  To be honest, I didn't think Phil had it in him!"

Lynn beamed and rubbed the back of her husband's neck affectionately. "Phil's come a long way already.  He's making me proud."

Mark watched Lynn stroke Phil's neck almost like some kind of cherished pet – and Phil almost seemed to like it!  This is fucking impossible …

"Long way toward what?" Mark just had to ask.

Lynn exchanged a sly grin with Camilla and the other women. "You don't have to answer that," Camilla told Lynn gently, placing a hand on her father’s forearm.  Mark almost yanked it away furiously. She's being goddamned condescending again! 

"No, I don't mind," Lynn said.  She leaned over the table and smiled at Mark, like how one might smile when explaining something to a child. "Phil's duties have changed a lot, sweetie, since he lost his job. Since then, I've become the breadwinner and Phil's been learning how to run a household. It's been a learning process for both of us."

Mark never liked Lynn that much - always too high strung and demanding, even back then. Now, though, she was a goddamned monster in disguise. That phony smile infuriated him to no end.  What is she putting Phil through??  What goes on between them when guests aren't around??

He was too uncomfortable to ask, though. Conveniently, Hana changed the subject to women's favorite subject, clothes – nothing would ever change that – and Camilla's hand withdrew from his arm as the conversation bounced among the four women, leaving the men entirely silent.  Over the next ten minutes of this, Mark made eye contact with the other guys, but at most they just shrugged.  They seemed used to being left out of the conversation now.

The two wine bottles at the table were being depleted quickly. When Carly refilled her second – or third? – glass, she tilted the bottle toward Alan's empty glass. He covered it with his hand, and Mark overheard him whisper, "Can I have beer instead?"

"Um, not at dinner, sweetie. Maybe later, during your game."  She offered the wine again, but Alan glumly shook his head.  They both noticed Mark staring at them at the same time; Alan winced, but Carly giggled at him and wrinkled her nose. 

Mark felt like beer too, but he decided not to ask, out of concern that Camilla might turn him down too, as crazy as that might sound. He just wasn't sure what would happen.  He chose to keep quiet and get through this awful dinner as easily as possible.

The women gabbed on and on, which meant they ate slowly. Phil tried to get up at one point, but Lynn touched her hand to his shoulder and broke off her conversation to ask, "Where are you off to, sweetie?"

Phil glanced anxiously at the clock – just ten minutes to tip off – and Lynn noticed. "Just thought I'd get the dessert ready," he replied politely.

"Not everyone's done eating yet," Lynn scolded gently. "We don't want to rush them."

"I can speed up," Camilla offered. She was one of two women with food still on their plate.

"No, no, I insist!" Lynn said emphatically. "Take all the time you like."

Camilla grinned.  "OK, I will."  She certainly did not eat any faster from then on. 

Mark couldn't believe how rude his daughter was being.  Lynn is Lynn ... but no daughter of mine can act like that! But again, he worried how him complaining would play out. 

Phil sat back down but seemed increasingly anxious as the minutes ticked away.  Phil was an absolute diehard sports fan and couldn't bear to miss a single minute.  At least that hasn't changed.

But it was over a minute after the last set of silverware was put down, before Lynn casually sat back and announced, "Well ... who saved room for dessert?"

"Bring it on!" Hana cheered, and the other women expressed interest too. 

"Desserts all around!" Lynn declared. Phil knew that was his cue, and he got up without being asked. 

"I'll help," Alan offered, getting up as well. Mark was just as antsy to end dinner as them, but he didn't think to offer – or want to. 

The guys returned with two plates each, passing them out to the four women – the only ones who'd shown interest. "Can we go now?" Mark barely heard Phil whisper to Lynn. The clock showed three minutes past tipoff. 

"Don't be rude, dear!" she whispered back. "See if the boys want any."

Phil asked; they all said no.

"OK, then have a seat and keep us company," Lynn declared.

Phil did so – as did the other guys – but Phil could hardly sit still in his seat, literally squirming with impatience as the women took their time. Finally, Phil couldn't help it anymore and he begged, "Can I at least go record the game so we don't miss it??"

Lynn darkened and seemed to consider a tongue lashing, but perhaps for the sake of guests she said more calmly, "I really think that'd be rude. You're the host.  But ... if you want to ask Mia, I'm sure she'll do it.  Quickly, though."

Phil gave a strained nod and hurried off.  Mark hadn't seen Phil's 16-year-old today, but she must have been off in her room or something, avoiding the adults.

Moments later, Phil returned with a reassuring nod to the guys, then sat back down, more relaxed.

"Won't you try a slice of your own pie, honey?” his wife asked him.  “It's delicious. You did great."  She planted a big kiss on his cheek. 

"Yeah, it's fantastic," Carly complimented.

"OK, I'll try it," Phil conceded.

Alan asked for a slice, and Mark figured he might as well too. Camilla and Hana, meanwhile, requested seconds. 

It was another 15 minutes of eating and chatting before Lynn suggested the girls retire to the study – and only because the wine at the table had run out, it seemed.  The four of them sauntered off, Mark’s eyes instinctively following their rear ends – even Camilla’s, by accident.  He sighed.

"Finally!" Phil muttered, the moment they were out of earshot. "Oh, thank god."  He popped up to his feet. 

"For real!" Mark commiserated. "Let's get this started!"

"Oh – no, we have to take care of the dishes first," Phil explained. "No TV until then."

Mark blinked. "You serious?"

"That's the rule."

Phil and the other guys worked with incredible efficiency, like a goddamned Nascar pit crew.  He could tell they didn't like him not helping … but frankly he would have only gotten in their way.

Regardless, the kitchen was near spotless inside of ten minutes. The guys then paraded into the living room, where Mia was watching a sitcom – one Mark hadn't seen before, featuring particularly tall women and especially short men (like, more than a foot and a half shorter) in comical romantic situations. Mark didn't really find it funny at all, at least what little he saw of it.

"Mia, it's time for us to watch our game," Phil said, with surprising patience.

Mia turned her head.  Like almost all girls her age, she had not yet been touched by a growth spurt; she was still slender and several inches shorter than her dad.  "Just a couple minutes?" she asked.  "It's almost over."

"You can watch the rest in our bedroom."

"But that screen's so tiny!"  She made no move to get up. 

Phil came around to her and said, rather less patiently, "NOW, Mia."

"Ugh!  Is Mom OK with this!?"

"Yes, Mia.  You can ask her yourself."

Mark watched in shock as Phil's teenage daughter shot her dad a hard glare then stormed past him toward the study – without any rebuke from Phil!  She'd just openly disrespected him, and he'd let it happen!

Phil noticed Mark's surprised look. "Not worth it," he shrugged. "You gotta pick your battles.  And Lynn keeps her in line pretty good."

That’s not good enough! Mark thought.  Yeesh!

Phil settled into his favorite armchair, as the other guys took seats around the room. Phil opened the menu and flipped through the recordings, and—

"What the hell!?!" he shrieked, now flipping through like a madman. "It's not recording! It never was!!"  He switched to the live feed and almost fainted when he saw the game clock.

"You mean, we missed the whole first half??" Alan blurted.

Near enough - there were just 48 seconds left till halftime.

Mark and Ray were distraught, too – but none as much as Phil. His whole body was trembling with frustration, even rage.  For the biggest sports fan Mark had ever met, to have missed almost an entire half of one of the biggest games of the year … Phil was understandably mad.

"Hey, it's OK, buddy," Ray consoled. "At least we—"

Phil’s daughter had just reemerged from the study, and Phil leapt to his feet.  "MIA!" he yelled sharply,  evading Ray's outstretched hands and storming up to his daughter furiously.

She jerked back in surprise -- and some real fear – as her bigger, stronger father came up to her. 

"You didn't set the recording!?" Phil demanded.

"Yeah, I did!"

"No, you didn't!  Did you forget to hit 'confirm' again??"

"I ... oh.  Uh, maybe."

"Go to your room!" Phil roared, pointing across the house.

"You said I could finish my show in—"

"NOW!!  And don't come out until I say so!!"

Mia seemed too stunned to react at first. Eventually reality sunk in and she puttered down the hall, slamming the door behind her. 

A heavy silence filled the living room, except for the quiet cheers of the crowd on screen. Mark was pretty surprised – but a bit relieved, honestly.  'bout time one of my friends showed some balls again! But the other guys seemed downright horrified.

Phil silently went to the armchair, sat down, popped open his beer, took a long drink, then somberly fixated on the game and nothing else.  Slowly, the others did the same, with no one speaking a word until five minutes into halftime.  Mark wanted to congratulate him/reassure him - but the oppressive silence from the others worried him.  What are they expecting to happen now??

The mood started to lighten again when the second half began. Ray, Mark, and Alan began to joke around and cheer for their respective teams, and finally Phil joined in.  Midway through the second half, when the game was getting good, they were laughing and yelling and high fiving each other just like old times.

“Another damned turnover!?” Phil exclaimed, pulling his hair out.

“So careless with the ball…” Ray chimed in.

North Carolina ran the fast break but missed a wide-open jumper.  His friends hooted and hollered, as Mark complained, "Come on!  Make a shot, you son of a bitch!" Mark shouted at the screen. "Man!  That jackass couldn't hit a three if his life depen--"

It struck him that all his friends had fallen silent. He turned his head to see them all looking toward the hallway, where Mia had appeared out of her bedroom. She was standing with red, puffy eyes – she'd been crying! – but a vicious, vindictive look on her face. 

She suddenly started forward, crossed the room behind them and making a direct line for the opposite hallway and the study beyond.  Alan and Ray rose half to their feet in alarm.  Phil, however, leapt all the way to his feet and cried out, "No!" in a strangled voice, running after her with arm outstretched. "Mia!" he pleaded.

But his daughter rushed out of sight.  Female voices rose and then fell silent as the door to the study opened and closed.  Standing at the end of the living room, Phil's shoulders slumped despondently.  He looked almost ready to puke. 

A minute later, the door opened again and Mia stepped into view. She looked at her father blankly for several long seconds, then said, "Mom wants to see you … in your room."  A flicker of satisfaction whisked across her face as she stepped past him in the direction of her room and disappeared.

Mark's heart pounded as Phil plodded slowly, heavily down the hallway past the study, not looking back.

"What's going to happen?" Mark asked.  "Is she gonna yell at him?" 

Alan gave a nervous shrug, but otherwise both he and Ray turned their eyes to the TV and watched silently.

Mark tried to lighten the mood. "Oh, c'mon, a bit of tongue lashing isn't THAT bad ..."

Neither of them said a word.  They seemed worried for their friend.

* * *                         

45 minutes earlier

The ladies filed into the study, giggling and bubbling with wine – of which there was plenty more.

“Dinner really was good,” Camilla praised.  “I still can’t believe Phil did all that!”

“I know,” Lynn acknowledged.  “A few months ago, Phil couldn’t have toasted his own bread … and that’s hardly an exaggeration.”

“So how did you teach him?”

“Teach him – to cook?  Oh, no, sweetie, I didn’t teach him one lick about cooking.  I never was that great of a cook myself.”

“Then how’d he learn?”

“Watching cooking shows, reading books … who knows?  I don’t follow all the details in his life.”  She grinned devilishly.  “I just supply the motivation.”

“That you do, Lynn!” Hana laughed.  “Lynn’s probably the toughest among us.  But the rest of us are learnin’.”

Camilla shifted excitedly. "Can I ask how exactly you made that happen? I mean, you've changed him so much!"

The other women all chuckled.

"What?" Camilla asked.

"Looking to make similar changes in your father, eh?" Hana said slyly. 

Camilla did a double take. "You, too!?  Lynn said that the other day, but … I mean, you can’t really be serious, right?"

"It's not a big deal," Carly cut in.  "Every family should be led by women – regardless of circumstances."  The other two nodded in agreement. 

Camilla gaped at them. If anyone would object, she would have thought it'd be Carly. But she was as sure about this as the others. 

"Maybe," she whispered thoughtfully. "Maybe."

Lynn laughed. "Great! All we gotta do is help make up her mind."  The three of them clinked glasses. Camilla still wasn't convinced, but she slowly clinked her glass with theirs too - not ready to agree with them yet, but at least ready to hear them out. 

"Alright," she said giddily, nervously, "how WOULD I, hypothetically, get Dad to behave like Phil?"

* * *

Some time later, Camilla sat back in her chair, putting a palm to her forehead dizzily. 

"You alright?" Carly asked in a friendly way. 

Camilla nodded. "I'm great. There's just SO much to process.  Honestly, I'm not sure I believe half the things you've told me – you girls seriously did all that to your husbands?  I can't decide if you're just playing a practical joke or not."

The others laughed uproariously.  Lynn slapped her on the back. "Once you start trying these ideas yourself, you'll see how fun – and effective – it can be."

"But I haven't said I'd actually do any of it!" Camilla protested. 

Lynn looked at her appraisingly. "You will,” she concluded firmly.  “I have no doubt."

Camilla got chills again, for the umpteenth time that evening. She didn't respond, but she didn't deny it either. 

Hana grinned impishly. "Just promise us you won't try some of those tricks on him that we taught you for the bedroom!"

"Oh god!!  NOOO!!!" Camilla exclaimed. The others broke into side splitting laughter, and Camilla did too.  The three of them had divulged some VERY private and VERY juicy details of their new love lives with their husbands. Camilla knew a tremendous amount about each of them now. For example, Phil was STILL skittish about relinquishing control to Lynn in the bedroom – which Lynn found adorable, fortunately for Phil – and he hated going down on her, but Lynn liked it so much that that's almost all they did anymore.  And he'd gotten so good at it that Carly and Hana had since told their men to ask Phil for pointers – and they’d apparently done it, too, given no choice in the matter.

Hana still allowed Ray to have sex with her – but only once a week, and only if he did all his chores and other tasks that week!  She let him be on top too, as a reward, since that's what Ray liked. 

But Camilla had been most surprised to learn that Alan was a submissive at heart and was still incredibly excited by his wife's new size and power. The tales of their sexual activities in recent months still made Camilla's jaw drop when she thought about it. Everything she'd done with Nestor and others didn't even scratch the surface.

Of course, they'd practically rolled on the floor laughing when they learned that Camilla and Nestor had hooked up.  Apparently none of their husbands had mentioned it to them.  The teasing and encouragement from them was endless, despite her insistence that it was likely just a one time fling.

As the laughter died down, they heard more roars from the living room.  The women all rolled their eyes at each other. "Boys …" Hana joked.

"Think they're wondering what we're talking about in here?" Carly snorted.

"I doubt it," Lynn replied. "I think sports already occupies their simple little minds!"

That brought one of the biggest laughs all night. They joked about boys for the next few minutes, until they heard a knock on the door. 

They eyed each other quizzically.  "Who is it?" Lynn called out.

"It's Mia."

"Mia?  Come on in."

Lynn’s daughter folded her hands in front of her politely.  “Sorry to bother you …”

“Not at all – what is it, dear?”

“Did you tell Dad he can have the TV now?  He said I have to watch my show in your room instead.”

“He said you have to?” Lynn asked, pricking her ears up.  “Hopefully he asked you nicely?”

Mia shrugged.  “I guess so.”

Lynn relaxed.  “Yes, I said he and his friends could have the TV now.  Sorry, I didn’t realize you were still watching your show, honey.  If you don’t mind watching in our room …”

“OK,” Mia nodded, politely walking out and shutting the door gently.

The women exchanged smiles, with Camilla and Carly complimenting her politeness. “Well, she probably won’t stay meek for long,” Hana commented smugly.  “She’s gonna grow sooner or later.”

The others nodded.  Camilla took another glug of wine and nodded too.  It’s just the way of things now, she acknowledged.

They chatted a bit more – until Mia burst into the room again.  This time, she seemed greatly shaken and her eyes were puffy and on the verge of tears.

"What happened?!?" Lynn asked, jumping to her feet and rushing forward to console her cherished daughter. 

"Dad yelled at me!" Mia replied bitterly.

"He WHAT!?!"  Surprise quickly gave way to anger.  "What did he say?” Lynn asked hotly.  “Tell me EXACTLY."

As Mia recounted what happened, Camilla watched Lynn's normally composed expression turn incredibly hostile.  She seethed for several seconds after Mia finished, before saying in clear, icy tones, "Tell your father to meet me in our room."  And that was all. 

Even Camilla felt a chill as Mia left the room. The three of them waited silently, as Lynn's angry expression remained. "The ONE thing I asked of him, above everything else, is to never, ever raise his voice to our daughter.  She's the most important thing in the world ... And to break this rule over some stupid, childish sports game!!"

The glass in Lynn's hand began to creak.  Carly rushed forward and coaxed it from her before it shattered to pieces.  Gritting her teeth and locking her gaze dead ahead, Lynn stepped out the door and didn't look back.

Hana shut the door and winced, along with Carly and Camilla.  "It has to be done," Hana conceded, and Carly murmured agreement.

Now that Camilla had a sense of what exactly Lynn would do to Phil, she almost felt a little bad for him.  But she also remembered what they all had told her numerous times that evening: to enact REAL, lasting change, you could not under any circumstances let a thing like this slide.  You had to react to it instantly, without hesitation.  And doing this once up front would avoid the need to do it three times later on – it was ultimately in his own interest, really.

Camilla had not believed this in the slightest when they first told her - but when they all insisted on it adamantly, and gave examples, she began to think they might know what they're talking about after all. Still, it was all so new to Camilla and continued to make her head swim.

* * *

From the living room a little while later, Mark thought he heard something – a strange sound, coming from the direction where Phil had gone.  "I'm going to check on him," he decided, standing up.

Alan and Ray all but threw themselves in his way. "Don't do it!" they both insisted frantically.

"Why not??  He's been gone for almost 10 minutes."

"They don't want you going there," Alan explained more bluntly.

His tone put Mark's hackles up.  "Why!?  Just tell me!"

They both refused.  No matter how he asked, neither would tell him another word.

Did Lynn put her husband in timeout or something? The thought made his stomach turn.

He sat back down – but despite it being a thrilling finish to the game, one of the best he’d ever seen, he could hardly focus on it at all. His thoughts kept turning to Phil, and he couldn’t stop worrying.

* * *

The post game show had been playing for almost fifteen minutes before Mark gestured toward the study and asked, "Should we ...?"

Alan and Ray shook their heads.  "They'll come out when they're ready," Ray replied mechanically, as if this reply had been drilled into him before.

Mark didn't know what to say. All he knew is he wanted to know how Phil was doing and then get the fuck out of this looney bin and back home where things made sense. 

The game had ended half an hour ago by the time the women emerged.  Lynn was with them.  "How was your game, boys?" she asked civilly.

"Good," Alan and Ray replied in unison.

Mark stirred.  "Where is Phil?" he demanded, with more than a little edge in his voice.  

Lynn's eyebrows rose in surprise at his boldness. "He's not feeling well and he's gone to bed for the evening."

Mark didn't believe her.  "Can I see him?" he demanded.

This caused quite a stir among the women – and men, for that matter.  Before anyone else could say anything, Camilla hastily stepped in front of him.  "Maybe we should be going," she suggested quickly.  She could tell sticking around would only make things worse.

He stood up and tried to step around her, no doubt to accost Lynn again, but Camilla shadowed him at every turn and made it impossible to get by without actually shoving her aside.  Which, she was glad to see, it didn't come to.

"Oh, now YOU'RE telling me what to do – just like them!?" he muttered angrily.

"It's not like that," she told him softly – but he didn't listen.  He spun around ostentatiously and marched to the front door.

Camilla looked back at her new friends with embarrassment. She knew what each of them would tell her to do about this; but they at least seemed understanding and appreciative of her efforts to defuse things.  "I'm so sorry," she said. "Thank you so much for having us over."

"No problem, and you're welcome," Lynn said tenderly. "Come over anytime – I mean it."

"Bye, Camilla!" Carly chirped, waving.

"Hope to see you again soon!" Hana added.

Camilla returned the warm goodbyes and left with a smile on her face.  All three of them were really so nice, and witty, and funny, and everything else she could hope for in friends.  Despite being much younger than them – especially Lynn and Hana – she felt like they really treated her as an equal.  She couldn't wait to see them again.

She carefully hid her smile before coming in sight of her father, though. He was already waiting beside the car … the driver’s side.  He absolutely glowered at her as she approached.

"I suppose you're going to scold me for 'bad behavior,' right?" he snarled bitterly.

"What?  No!" she replied honestly. "Actually, I thought your reaction back there was totally understandable."

Mark blinked, nodded slowly, but still frowned.

"Let's go home," she suggested.  "I'm beat.  Oh, are you good to drive? I am."

He scoffed.  "I think you had WAY more to drink than me ... which I still don't appreciate, by the way!  We’re gonna need to have a talk about that."

Camilla wasn't sure about the soberness claim – she'd stopped drinking an hour ago, plus she simply had more body mass than him – but she didn't want to push him in his fragile state.  She let him take the driver’s side, and she didn't even argue about his silly notion of 'talking' about her alcohol consumption - which she had no intention of letting him do.

In the car, he turned to her and demanded, "What exactly did Lynn do with Phil tonight?  I want a straight answer.  And don't act ignorant – I know you know."

Camilla hesitated. "Maybe this isn't the best place.  Can we talk at home?"

"Hmph.  Fine."

* * *

Back home, Dad herded her right into his room and accosted her about Phil immediately, his tone even more demanding now.  Question after question rolled off his tongue.  Camilla sighed and led him to the foot of the bed.  "Please," she said, sitting down and pointing to the space beside her.

He crossed his arms and glared at her – but when that didn't work, he growled and sat next to her on the bed, but a little farther than she indicated, just to be difficult. 

Patiently, she collected her thoughts and began.  "Dad ... Lynn's in charge of that household.  And when I say 'in charge', I don't mean she just usually gets her way. I mean she is IN CHARGE.  As in, her word is law.  You see?  Same goes for Hana with Ray, and Carly with Alan – they're both in charge too, in their own ways."

Mark shifted uncomfortably. He'd already seen as much, or at least suspected it with Alan and Ray too.  "That’s freaking ridiculous,” he muttered dryly.  “But what's your point?"

"My point is that one of Lynn's biggest peeves is someone raising their voice to Mia, and she'd already told Phil that clearly. And Phil broke that rule, and there were consequences."

Mark breathed heavily. "You seriously don't see a problem with that?"

Camilla thought calmly. "It doesn't matter what I think.  That's simply how things are."

He scowled. "You've said that before ..."

His stubbornness began to rub her the wrong way.  "And I'll KEEP saying it - because it's true!" she replied, raising her voice a little.

He shook his head.  "I'll tell you one thing – we are NOT going over to any of their houses anymore, OR having them over.  That goes for you, too – I don't want them polluting your mind."

Camilla couldn’t take it anymore.  "POLLUTING my--!!  Ugh!!  Wake up, Dad!  Look around you!  Closing yourself off and pretending nothing's happening doesn't make it true!!"

"Ha! … HA!! …"  He laughed again, then again - short, derisive laughs that really got under her skin. Standing up, he loomed over her and told her snidely, "I'll only say this ONE time, so listen good: if you EVER bring up this kind of nonsense even one more time, I swear to God you won't step foot in this house again! You can keep spouting this bullshit all you want, but it'll have to be while living under someone else's roof – is that PERFECTLY clear!?"

Camilla was in disbelief. This was a new all-time low, even for him.  She shot him a well-deserved, furious glare, then brushed past him on her way out.

"Did you hear me??" he taunted after her – so fucking childishly!  "Hey,” he quipped, trying to be clever, “pretending I didn't say that doesn't make it true!!"

God ... if there was ever a time to hit my father, she thought, fists clenching so hard that her fingernails almost broke skin.  At the door, she VERY nearly turned around, as thoughts of her disabling that bully at the mall played once again in her head.  Only, Dad is a LOT weaker than that other man ... and he would cry SO much easier ... Oh, that would feel SOOO good right now …

He scoffed loudly when she paused, and he had no idea how close she came.  No freaking idea at all.  Reason barely won out, and she slammed the door behind her as she left. 

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

Thursday

Camilla felt horribly guilty when she awoke the next day. Not for anything she'd said or done, but for what she'd ALMOST done.  She knew how strong she was now, and she shuddered to think what the consequences might have been for her dad if she hadn't reined herself in. 

She had hoped it was past her ... but as soon as she walked into the kitchen and saw him reaching up for the top shelf, she couldn't help notice his flabby arms and think how easy it would be – so very easy – to just grab him and ...

"Oh - hello, Camilla," he said confidently, getting a bowl down and turning around.  "Did you think about what I said?"

"Yes, Dad."

SO easy...

"And?"

To just reach out ... 

She coughed. "Um ... yes. I would very much like to stay here."

His smug grin made her arms twitch. "Good.  Glad you found some sense."  He opened the fridge and closed it. "I'll have you know, I have my second interview in as many days, this afternoon.  And surely more to follow."

She was about to retort back, but suddenly she felt a little bad for him.  "That's good, Dad," she replied quietly. 

He beamed confidently and whistled as he prepared his breakfast. Camilla grabbed a muffin and went back to her room.  She didn't have the heart to tell him that many employers had requirements now to interview at least one man for every job posting – an attempt to promote more diversified hiring practices. But in practice this was little more than a publicity stunt and very rarely resulted in a man being hired.  Honestly, it wasn't even worth the gas money he'd pay to drive to the interview.

And yet, if she were to tell him this, he wouldn’t listen to reason and they'd just wind up in another argument.  Infuriating!!

* * *

She stewed and stewed over it that day, until she couldn't take it anymore and called Lynn.  Lynn was incredibly kind and offered to meet her for lunch. 

Over burgers, Camilla explained everything to Lynn, including how close she'd come – multiple times now – to hitting him. "I'm scared," she admitted shakily. "I'm scared that one of these times, I'm just going to snap … and hurt him REAL bad."

Lynn nodded thoughtfully. "I can sympathize. Believe me, I used to have similar thoughts. But now, I have those thoughts almost entirely under control."

"But how did you do it!?" Camilla asked in desperation. 

"By directing my energy toward positive goals."

Camilla blinked. "Meaning ... what?"

Lynn set her food down and leaned closer. "Let me ask you something: do you think this is sustainable? Do you think things can just continue as they are?"

"Absolutely not!!" Camilla exclaimed. "God, I don't know if I can continue one more day like this!!  He's only getting worse and worse!!"

Lynn nodded. "And do you think talking to him about it will solve the problem?"

"God, no!  I mean, he threatened to kick me out of the house if I ever brought it up again!"

"Could you ask one of his friends to talk to him about it on your behalf?"

"That would never work!  He'd get even madder!"  

"How about writing your concerns down – say, in an email – and communicating it to him that way?"

"Same result - he'd just throw it back in my face.”  Camilla shook her head in exasperation.  “I'm telling you, he couldn't possibly be any more immature about this than he’s been so far."

"Quite right. So, if you can't talk to him about it, have others talk to him for you, or communicate in writing, I can see only two options left: either you leave the house and let him carry on ..."

"Never!"

"That leaves just one other option…"

Camilla's brow furrowed. "I could, um ... I could--"  She gasped. "You don't mean ..."

"What we talked about last night – yes."

"No!  I swore to myself I'd never actually do that!"

"You HAVE to, Camilla – for his own sake, and yours.  If you let this frustration build up in you, you WILL snap eventually – and the consequences will be much worse. By contrast, if you take the approach we discussed, you'll be funneling your emotions toward enacting positive change. This change will become your guiding principle in dealing with him, serving as both an outlet for your frustration and a tool for helping him improve. It won't always work out perfectly – I've trained Phil for quite some time now, but you saw what he did last night.  Still, there is simply no other way to enact lasting change, and no other solution to your problem."

"My god," Camilla uttered slowly, staring off at the wall, "you're right. It makes sense now, now that I see there's no other way.  I've tried everything else.  I've ... I've..." 

In a moment of clarity, she saw what she had to do. After thanking Lynn profusely and offering to pay her half of the check (Lynn refused), Camilla called her boss and explained things to her; her boss understood. Then she returned just long enough to pack her bag.

On her way out, she saw her dad putting a tie on, priming himself for his hopeless interview. "Where are you going?" he inquired sharply. "Heck, what do you do ANY day, for that matter, besides fritter your time away?"

She remained calm and reminded herself that he didn't even know about her job or anything else she did each day. He was childishly jumping to conclusions – but it was OK now; she didn't have to worry about that anymore.  She nodded graciously and replied, "I'll be gone for a few days. I'll see you around, Dad.  And if you're wondering, I do still love you."

Even amidst her irritation, she saw him putting on his tie again, and she remembered when stubbornness and brashness were once virtues she admired in him, back when the world needed men like that.  She would let him stay that way, stuck in his ways, for better or worse, because that's what he still wanted and because, yes, she still loved him.

She would remember that surprised look when she walked out the door.  She may have to remember it for a long time, as she might not come back at all.  In fact, she intended not to. 

* * *

Mark fumed for quite a while after she left.  Her arrogant behavior was driving him up a wall!  What the hell is causing this – not just in her, but every other woman?

An internet search turned up plenty of theories, but no conclusive answers.  It must be something physiological, connected to the growth disorder … but scientists can’t seem to figure out what.  However, the more sites he visited and the more he read, one thing became clear: this was more widespread than he’d ever have imagined.  I really have been off in my own world, he mused.  From the sound of it, he guessed maybe 10% of women now were acting like Lynn and Hana and the others?  Maybe more?  (Possibly significantly more?)  It was hard to say for sure.

He gritted his teeth.  Well, just because some women are ‘taking charge’ or whatever, doesn’t mean all women should.  Or will.  Camilla may have gone off to pout for now, but that doesn’t mean anything’s changing when she gets back!

* * *

Camilla drove east to the sea then turned north, stopping where she pleased, visiting exciting cities and quaint coastal towns, relaxing, and enjoying herself.  She had enough money from her college stipend plus what little she had made in her brief stint as a saleswoman to get by for a few weeks and then settle down somewhere and find another job – far from Dad and frustration.

It seemed like paradise at first - but after just a couple days, she began to have doubts.  What would Lynn and the others say about running from my problems? Isn't that exactly what I'm doing?

She met quite a few people along the way.  One family in particular stuck out to her.  They saw her walking along the beach and invited her to share lunch with them.  She immediately saw the similarities: a mother who died years ago, a single father of three kids who once had to both raise a family and run the family business ... until his eldest daughter – two years Camilla's senior – had stepped in to share the load.  Now the daughter ran the family business in his stead, and he worked as her employee – an arrangement that had shocked Camilla when she heard it, but when she saw how well the family operated, it changed her mind.  The father wasn't resentful; he was gracious and kind, patient, full of respect. But most of all, he was proud of his daughter and what she could do.  And the daughter hadn't had to force a thing; he'd given up his leadership willingly, and their family life had evolved to match, without conflict. 

Camilla learned two important lessons from this. First, some people were simply different than others.  Not in a million years would Camilla's own father relinquish his authority all on his own, the way this one had.  Different people needed different treatment. 

But even more importantly, Camilla had learned what was possible for a family like hers.  And she knew now that family was of the utmost importance to her.  Seeing a harmonious family like this had switched on a lightbulb in her mind and made things clear: I want a similar family structure of my own. 

She thanked her gracious hosts for helping her in ways they couldn't imagine – and then, she set a direct course for home.  Dealing with her father, the frustration of that, would be one of the most trying endeavors she'd ever undertaken, but she WOULD succeed. She knew this without a doubt. 

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

Monday

At her first stop, she sent a carefully-worded email to her father.  It got her thinking: what if he'd actually done some soul-searching of his own and changed for the better while she was gone?  Perhaps the humility of his certain job failure may have sunk in, and he was more receptive to new possibilities than when she'd left him.  Or perhaps something had happened in her absence to show him he needed her protection – no man nowadays was truly safe on his own, even at home, without a strong female nearby. Or maybe a few days of reflection would have simply helped him come to terms with things now. 

If he did show improvement, then she would modify her actions accordingly when she returned home. What happened next was now entirely up to him.

* * *

Mark checked his email that morning and was surprised to see a message from his daughter.  He’d made a few efforts to contact her since she disappeared, and she had been entirely silent other than to reassure him she was safe and unharmed.  No explanation for leaving, no statement of when she’d return – or if.

So he opened this unexpected email with interest.  << Mark, >> it began.

He did a double-take.  ‘Mark’?  Not ‘Dad’!?  He felt a mix of anger and confusion as he sat up and continued on.

<< Mark –

Good morning.  After some soul searching, I’m ready to come home.  I’ll be home before dinner, and I would like to make some requests of you.  I’ve decided to make some much-needed changes to the way our family runs.  It just doesn’t make sense to follow a male-led family structure anymore.  I think you know that, even if you won’t admit it.

First of all: I don’t feel it’s safe for you to venture out of the house on your own anymore.  I promise I’ll find a better solution ASAP which will grant you more freedom, but until then I ask that you stay indoors until I get back.  This is on par with similar rules your friends have to follow, and I don’t think it’s unreasonable to ask you to do the same.

While you’re home, I’d very much appreciate if you could take care of a few things around the house, listed below.  They’re all simple things and they really won’t take long.  Please do them by 5 PM, that’s all I ask.  If you have any questions, call me.

I know this is a lot to take in, but please don’t give me a hard time on this.  Your ability to follow these instructions will dictate my actions when I get home.  DO NOT take this lightly.  That’s the only warning I will give.  I’m doing this for the good of the family.  Please keep that in mind.

I love you very much, and we’ll talk more when I get home tonight.

Camilla >>

Mark stared at the page.  “What the fuck?” he finally muttered.  He could hear his heart beating in his eardrums.  “What … the … FUCK???”

He lowered his eyes to the second half of the page and found:

<< To do:

• Replace light bulb in guest bathroom
• Water the house plants
• Call and set up appointment to fix the water heater
• Tidy up the house a little bit (pick up trash, etc.)
• Whip up something simple for dinner?

And that’s it!

>> 

Mark lost it.  He leapt to his feet and threw the papers aside, half-crumpling them in fury.  “Who the FUCK does she think she is!?!” he bellowed, for the whole house to hear.

Of course, the house was empty at this hour – Camilla’s siblings were at school.  He couldn’t possibly conceive what absurd, ridiculous thoughts must have gone through her head to make her write something like this.  In years past, this would more than warrant a good spanking for such ludicrous behavior.  As things stood now, he would at the very least give her one hell of a tongue-lashing when she got home – the likes of which she’d never encountered before.  And then they’d go from there.

After fuming, showering, fuming, eating breakfast, and fuming some more, he decided to fix the damned water heater himself – not to ‘give in’ or anything like that, just to show her I can handle it myself, thank you very much!

* * *

After two hours of trying, he had only made the problem worse.  The water still wasn’t heating up, AND now it was slowly but steadily leaking.  A little while later, he gave up trying to stop the leak too, and just positioned a bucket to catch the drip and left it alone.

As a big middle finger to Camilla, he went out for lunch.  It was fine, of course – far from being ‘unsafe’, as she claimed!  A few women looked at him a little … oddly.  Sure, it had been a little while since he’d really been out around town on his own; and sure, women were looking pretty damned big nowadays … but of course none of that actually meant anything.  He made it home totally unharmed and unharassed.

Camilla is acting so ridiculous!!

He thought about making an even bigger mess of the house just to piss her off.  Ha … and then I’ll make her clean it, too! … Well, that might be a hard sell, but …

He ended up just watching TV for a while, until around 3:00 when he just got too fed up and left again.  The kids would be home soon, but they often had to fend for themselves without him or Camilla around, so it wasn’t a problem.

He went to a bar and didn’t drink much, but enough to keep a steady buzz going until well past 5:00.  The bar started getting crowded – and again, women seemed to eye him a bit funny … not that it made him uncomfortable or anything, but … well, he felt it was about time to leave, anyway.

* * *

Camilla's hopes of his self-improvement were dashed when she returned home and found not a single request of hers fulfilled. Some – like the water heater – he'd only made worse!  And there was no reasonable excuse she could think of for him being out of the house, alone, at all!  Especially since she’d come home right at the appointed time.

Only one thing could save him: maybe he hadn't seen the email.  She hoped – prayed – that that were the case.  She noticed his computer was still on - and, lo and behold, his password for his email account was saved in the browser.  She saw her email several lines down – and her heart sank when she noticed that it, along with several other emails that day, were marked as 'Read.'  He had seen it, after all. 

Camilla remained calm, though.  Diplomacy is still possible.  At least I have to try.  I really don’t want to resort to the other way …

Her eyes happened to land on the 'Drafts' tab.  She opened the tab and found that there were half a dozen draft replies to her email.  Blinking, she opened the first.

<< 'Dear' Camilla ......FUCK YOU!!! >>

That was the entire reply.  Heart pounding, she opened the next one hoping for his sake that he had reconsidered ...

<< My Royal Bitch of a daughter,

DO NOT, under any circumstance, bother coming home. I'm disowning your ass immediately and ripping all pictures of you from the family photo albums and throwing all your childhood crap in the trash.>>  The email continued on like this for another half a page. Camilla skimmed to the end: << GOOD LUCK WITH YOUR LIFE AND FUCK YOU!!!! >>

Camilla was becoming dizzy as she flipped ahead frantically, looking for even one word of remorse or change of heart anywhere in the next four messages, anything that she could lean on to exonerate him.  But there was nothing of the sort; in fact, the rest became increasingly scattered and rambling, reducing to little more than strings of incoherent – but extremely foul mouthed – insults of the worst kind, aimed right at her.

She read through to the end of the last drafted email then immediately deleted them all from existence. She didn't want to ever see those again – nor did she need to, to decide his punishment.  Lynn’s suggestions echoed in her mind, and she knew now that it was the only real option.  Words would accomplish nothing now; it was the time for action, not diplomacy.  Something to enact real change.

As the garage door opened minutes later, she rose to her feet solemnly but assuredly. At least now she didn't have to doubt her next move.  She was at least grateful for that. 

* * *

The beer had completely worn off by the time Mark got home.  He stepped inside to hear the microwave running.  Good – she’s in the kitchen, and I’ll confront her right away.  He strolled inside with a big, cocky grin on his face, ready to give his daughter a real piece of his mind.

She wasn’t there, though.  Yes, the microwave was indeed heating up some leftovers for dinner, but the room was currently empty.  He went to the fridge for a glass of water.

As he opened it, he heard a surprising noise from behind him: Click.  Clack.  Click.  Clack.  High heels … but on Camilla?  That made no sense; she hated heels and never wore them.

As he straightened up, he saw her shadow fall onto the fridge, beside him then around him.  The low sunlight through the kitchen window was making the shadow more dramatic – but still, something seemed wrong.

When he turned to her, he almost didn’t recognize who he saw.  Expecting her in her typical casual, don’t-give-a-crap attire, he was shocked to find his daughter decked out in a prim white blouse, black blazer (and a whole shit-ton of cleavage…), black skirt, dark stockings, and shiny black 4-inch heels.  Her hair was done in a tight bun and her normal soft facial features were transformed through makeup (which she also never, ever wore!) into a sharp, keen, oddly intense visage, made all the more striking by her height which was even more ludicrous than he’d ever seen before, thanks to the heels.  She absolutely towered over him – the top of his head didn’t even come to her shoulders!! – and there was something different in her posture, demeanor, her presence, which all came together in a wholly unexpected way to make standing in front of her feel very … unsettling.

But her voice sent this all over the top.  “Mark,” she said abruptly, her tone crisp, cutting … and displeased.  Why did that make the hairs on his neck stand up?

He was surprisingly tongue-tied as he stared 45 degrees up at her.  He tried to make sense of this all, while intensifying his glare.  Yet her gaze seemed to intensify even more; and even in the silence, she somehow seemed to be winning.

With his mouth feeling increasingly dry, she was the first to finally speak.  Her expression turned almost menacing now, to match her tone.  “We need to talk.  In my bedroom.  Now.”

He couldn’t stop his eyes from widening.  “Wh … What??” was all he managed to say.  He shook his head.  So fucking tall!! So curvy and busty.  So mature-looking, and—

He shrieked softly but audibly as her hand reached out and fell on his shoulder, clamping down not very gently at all.  “We can either make a scene about this or not,” she explained flatly.  “Your call.”

This put him over the edge.  She’s taking this way too far.  Way, way, WAYYY too far.  “No!” he said firmly, finding his resolve.  He started to brush her arm away.  “It’s time you stopped preten—Aiiyee!!“

Her hand didn’t fall away; in fact, her fingers dug in with incredible strength and took an unbreakable grip around the bones in his shoulder, indenting his soft flesh like it was nothing.  The pain was searing and intense; it was all he could do not to scream even louder.

Without further ado, his daughter strode toward her room with him firmly in tow.  Try as he might – with one, then two hands; it didn’t matter – he couldn’t budge her fingers at all.  What the FUCK!?!  What the flying FUCK!?!

The initial pull had almost yanked him off his feet; he recovered and shuffled frantically in line with her to keep himself upright.  He followed her with helpless dismay and terror, mind reeling, yelping intermittently when the pain was too intense.  For one moment, as they passed the living room, he saw his other children turning their eyes from the television, then gaping in shock.  He would never forget the look on their faces.  But no explanation could have salvaged the situation; no words could have set anything right.  The sheer, utter strength of Camilla’s hand and arm were all that made any difference right now; he was entirely subject to her will.

He held off tears – barely – as she led him swiftly into her room then closed the door.  She released his shoulder – thank god!! oh thank god!! – but he barely had time to begin massaging his shoulder before she snatched his wrist and held it out to the side, out of the way.  She didn’t do anything with it; she just held it there.  It took him a second to realize she was simply preventing him from fleeing – which was a chilling thought.

“Did you really expect I’d be OK with you running off today?” she demanded, her voice not that of a daughter but of a boss; a stern teacher; perhaps a school headmistress.  “How long were you out of the house??” she boomed.  When he didn’t answer, her hand began to shake his arm, and ultimately his whole body.  He lurched side to side like a ragdoll, unable to even slow it.  The strength she was displaying was simply not possible!!

“Wh-What is happening!?!” he shrieked frightfully.

“ANSWER MY QUESTION!!”  She rattled him some more.

Survival instincts kicked in.  “T-Two hours!!” he yelped.

The shaking stopped.  “Is that all?  Don’t lie.”

His face twitched as he prepared to lie again – but she must have understood his expression, or something, because she drew him closer and brought her other hand up, fingers outstretching.  Maybe she meant to clamp on his shoulder again, or maybe something else.  It would be hell, regardless.

Horribly confused, he could do nothing but answer her question.  “I … I went out for lunch too!” he admitted frantically.  What choice did he have??

“I see,” she said soberly, leading him across her room by the wrist.  She stopped at the foot of the bed.  “Anything else I should know?”  She stared down at him, her eyes boring into his mind.

He squirmed and groaned.  This can’t be happening!!

“Think carefully, Mark …”

He was shaking now.  He was sure she could feel it, too.  “Th…That’s all,” he whispered.

“Are you sure?”

He nodded slowly.

“There’s nothing you want to tell me about your chores?”

His eyes bulged.  “Chores??”

“Yes – chores!  I assigned you five tasks to do.  How many of them did you complete??”

He gaped at her.  Her grip tightened.  “Gah!!  N-None!!”  This is INSANE!!  “But, Camilla—“

 “Enough,” she declared, with a firm shake of his wrist.  “Anything else to tell me?”

His mind screamed at him to take control of the situation, assert his authority, put an end to this; yet, somehow he still faltered.  “N … No …” he muttered feebly.

Camilla gave him a meaningful glare that gave him chills.  “What about the emails you drafted?”

“Emails??  What are—“  His voice cut out as his eyes went even wider.

His daughter nodded gravely, her voice icy cold.  “Yes.  I read them on your computer.”  He watched her grit her teeth, holding back anger, tightening her grip even more.

He began to whimper in fear as she sat on the edge of the bed, pulling him closer to her thighs.  “I had hoped I could just use words when I got home,” she explained, “but I see that something more drastic is needed, otherwise you’re never truly going to accept your place.  Mark, I’m the head of the family now, and I cannot allow these thoughts and actions to continue.  It has to stop -- NOW.”

‘Head of the family’ … ‘Head of the family’ … “C-Can I say something?” he stuttered, raising his voice a little.

“No.  No more talking.”  She pulled him closer, until his legs were pressed against the side of her thigh.

“But … b-but wh-what are you doing??”

“Hush,” she said.  “This will be over soon.”  And then she pulled his torso down to lay him across her thighs, with his legs dangling in the air.  Now staring at the floor beside her high-heeled feet, it suddenly became clear.

“Oh my god,” he breathed.  This is IMPOSSIBLE!!  “Camilla, stop this!!!”  She HAS to be bluffing!!  She HAS TO BE!!!  SHE—

**THWAP!!!**

Simultaneous with this deafening sound, he felt an anvil collide with his upturned rear end, pummeling it into her thigh.  He didn’t understand at first that this was actually her hand – the force was too great.  But all those thoughts dissipated a split-second later, as a surge of blinding pain reached his brain.  Then, the only possible reaction was to scream – which he did, at the very top of his lungs.

Disoriented and shaking, he tried to comprehend what had just occurred.  He never considered that there could possibly be more on the way …

**THWAP!!!**

Camilla paused again after the second slap, listening to her father’s delirious screams with consternation.  She thought he might have just been exaggerating the first time, but now she decided it was probably real.  I’m not hitting him THAT hard, she mused.  Am I really that strong?  Or is he just that fragile?

She felt a pang of guilt.  Is this wrong??  Within moments, another voice in her mind rang even louder: Absolutely not.  This is correct; necessary.  And … liberating!  It wasn’t long ago at all that she’d felt intimidated by him – very recently, in fact.  But seeing him screaming and flailing – and now sobbing – across her thighs was a real revelation for her.  She needn’t fear him ever again, not even in the slightest.

His flailing began to subside fairly quickly, though.  Is two enough??  She genuinely couldn’t decide.  I don’t want to do too much … but doing not enough could be even more harmful, in the long run.  She thought hard.

Mark could barely breathe.  He feared his lower back may be broken.  Surely, if an anvil falls on you not once, but twice, you’ll at least have some dislocated vertebrae.  At least it sure felt like it.  But just as he was thinking that two blows was way, way, WAYYY too much, he sensed his daughter’s weight shifting slightly.  Adrenaline coursed through him.  She can’t possibly be thinking of another!!

I just can’t risk it, Camilla decided, winding her hand back with some reluctance.  He has to learn.

As her hand reached the top of its arc, she thought she might have heard the door creak – but her hand was already in motion.

Mark felt the sudden shift in weight, and felt his impending doom.  NO!! his mind screamed.  FOR THE LOVE OF GOD – NO!!!

***THWAP!!!***

He faded out of consciousness, his mind disconnecting from his body.  He heard screaming, and then realized it was his own.  When his mind came back – and the searing pain with it – he found himself still lying across Camilla’s thighs, his body limp as a ragdoll.  Pure terror gripped him; he HAD to get off her lap, out of the danger zone, away from her hand; that was his only, all-consuming thought.

But he couldn’t move – it hurt too much, and he had no strength left anyway.  He was depleted and helpless; motionless.

He soon realized she was talking.  For how long??  “…huge changes around here,” he caught her saying.  “It’ll be a learning experience for all of us, but try your best to get used to it.”

She’s speaking to me.  Does she expect a response??

“Any questions?” she asked.

Amidst the still-searing pain, he opened his mouth – and panicked when no words came out.  Come on, Mark!  COME ON!!!

But then she said something that made no sense at all: “Yes, Kayla?”

Kayla!?!  But why would she—unless …

He heard his youngest daughter’s sweet, innocent voice coming from his left.  “So if Daddy’s not in charge … is he just one of us, now?”  She sounded confused, and a bit afraid – but not nearly as much as Mark.

He wheezed; his eyes popped out of his head.  He finally managed to turn it sideways to see his three youngest kids standing in the open doorway, with varying expressions on their faces.  Suddenly the pain on his bottom seemed almost trivial next to this.  They saw it.  He would have traded two, even three additional blows if it meant keeping his kids from finding out.

But it was too late for that.  From Ryan he saw only horror and dismay, but in Kayla’s and Chloe’s eyes he already saw hints of transformation, of acceptance.  It occurred to him that they must have seen or heard of this happening from others at school, or in the news.  So this made far more sense to them than it would otherwise.  But it was still a shock to see neither of them protest it.

“He’s still our dad,” Camilla replied seriously.  “He just doesn’t have any authority anymore, that’s all.  Does that make sense?”

“Um … I think so,” replied Kayla.

“But do we have to still call him ‘Dad’?” Chloe chimed in.

There was a slight pause.  “Yes, call him ‘Dad’, for now,” his eldest daughter affirmed.

For now …

She slowly stood up and gently guided her father to a resting place on the floor at her feet.  She straightened her skirt, stood up, and stepped over him toward the door.  “Let’s have dinner while he recovers.  He can join us when he’s ready.”

His looming daughter turned to look down at him somberly.  He thought he saw hints of sadness in her eyes, mixed with twinges of regret.  But above it all, her eyes held a steely resolve, one that squashed all his hopes outright.  She said nothing, and made no gesture, but she didn’t need to.  Her actions had spoken far louder than words ever could.  In a flash, all his priorities had changed.  His only goal now, beyond everything else, was to avoid incurring Camilla’s wrath.

Maybe a time would come when his courage would return to him; but for now, Camilla’s word was the law – absolute and inviolable.

 

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

Tuesday

Mark was lying on his stomach when he woke up the next morning, in the same position he’d fallen asleep in. His neck was sore from being turned to the side all night … but that was nothing compared to his rump.  As soon as he moved his leg a little bit, he yelped in pain.  There were deep tissue bruises there, which could take days to heal; a whole week, for all he knew.  It was a harrowing reminder of yesterday, and of how impossibly strong she was.  Women didn’t seem to demonstrate their strength in public; they seemed to prefer to keep it private, he guessed.  But he doubted Camilla was lying.  And now that he knew that all women were strong like that, it put a very different spin on things, indeed.

His friends’ relationships with their wives made a lot more sense now, for one thing.  A chill came over him, as he realized that’s where his life was headed too.  He couldn’t let that happen.  He HAD to take action, someway, somehow.  He got up quietly, wincing all the way to the bedroom door, and put his ear against it.  After a few moments, he heard his eldest daughter’s confident voice; his knees went weak and his heartrate tripled.  And suddenly his tender bottom began to hurt even more; the power of suggestion at play.

He was a grown man, but he couldn’t bring himself to confront her.  He remained in his room like a coward and listened as Camilla spoke a few words – to Chloe, it sounded like – then, shortly after, she called out, “Alright, have a good day, kids!” and he heard the front door open and close.

He remained on tenterhooks but didn’t hear another sound for the next five minutes.  Quietly, he backed away from the door and decided he had to do something.  With shaking hands, he picked up his phone and called his friend, Phil. 

*Ring* ...*Ring*...

"Mark, how are you?"

"Phil," Mark said desperately, keeping his voice low, "are you alone?  Can you talk?!"

"My wife's out shopping. Yes, I can talk - what is it??"

"It's Camilla - she ... she beat the SHIT out of me!!  I came home, and ... my God, it was just ... just ..."  He moaned softly. "I don't know what the hell happened to her, but ... but she's not right in the head!!  She's... there's ... there's something wrong with her, and ..."  His voice seized up, overcome with emotion.

"I'm sorry," Phil said sincerely.  "It really sucks, I know, man."

Mark gripped the phone tighter.  "You've gone through this too, right??"

"Yeah."  Phil sighed. "Yeah."

"OK, so ... so ... what do I do about it?!?" Mark begged.

"Do?  Nothing.  There's nothing you can do.

"That's impossible!  C'mon, man, there must be some way out of this!  I must be able to change her mind, or ... or ..."

"She won't listen.  Trust me on that."

"WHY THE HELL NOT!?" Mark hissed, louder. "How could anyone treat someone that way!?"

"She can't help it!" Phil declared.

"What?"

"You don't understand - it's not her fault!"

Mark gasped. "You... You're DEFENDING her!?!"

"Just listen.  I--"

Mark's mind snapped. "No, YOU listen!!" he snarled. "Your mind is poisoned!  Your wife converted you, did she??  What is this, some kind of effed-up Stockholm Syndrome?!  You freaking JUDAS!!"

"Mark--"

"Screw you! I'll figure this out myself!"  He hung up furiously, slamming his phone on the bed.  If anyone could have understood what i'm going through ... Agghhh!  Forget him! I need help - NOW!

He wasted no time in picking up his phone again and dialing three numbers.

It rang only once.  “9-1-1,” the female operator answered.  “Is this an emergency?”

“Yes,” he said quickly, quietly.  “Well … no.  I mean … yes.  My daughter – she … she …”  He faltered.  It was surprisingly difficult to say.  “She hit me.”  He felt embarrassed admitting that; ashamed; worthless.  Not something he ever thought he’d feel.

“Is she in the house now?” the operator replied quickly, efficiently.

“Y-Yes.”

“Do you feel threatened by her right now?  Do you feel safe?”

His anger bubbled up again.  “I’m fine!  I’m … just … please come get me!”

“Can you tell me your address?”

He did so, voice wavering.

“Stay where you are.  An officer will come by right away.”

“OK,” he said anxiously.  But then he thought through the scenarios in his mind.  “Wait – no!  I’ll … I’ll meet the officer out front.”

“No, sir.  If she’s a threat to you, stay in your room.  Do not spark a confrontation.  … Are you there?  Can you promise me you’ll stay put?”

“I … I …”  His heart pounded.  The more he thought it through, the more worried he became.  “Actually, I … changed my mind,” he whispered shakily.  “N-No need to send a cop.  Never mind.  Um, th-thank you.”

The female operator was adamant: “Sir?  I know it’s scary, but the worst thing you can do is let this go unreported.  You have to go through with this.  We’ll protect you, if need be – don’t worry about that.”

That’s exactly what he worried about – retaliation from Camilla.  That, plus the embarrassment and shame of bringing this out into the open.

But the operator had convinced him, barely.  “OK.  Just … please hurry.”  He didn’t want to spend another minute alone with Camilla in the house.

“The officer is already on the way.  Would you like me to stay on the line with you?”

He gulped.  “N… No, ma’am.  Thank you.”

He hung up and quivered nervously, hardly able to breathe – and just then, he heard a knock on his bedroom door.  “Mark?” his eldest daughter asked.  “I thought I heard talking.  Are you awake?”

Sheer panic gripped him.  He looked around frantically – but there was nowhere to escape to.  Nowhere to run.

The doorknob rattled, and she knocked even louder.  “Mark!  Open this, please!  I’d like to know what you’re doing in there.”

His legs gave out and he settled onto the bed, his heart palpitating wildly.  She tried the knob again then called out again, more worriedly, “Mark, are you in there??  Mark??  Please answer me!! … Mark, I’m coming in on the count of three.  One … Two …”

He couldn’t have gotten there in time if he wanted to; he was frozen in fear.

“Three.”  The door flew open with a loud *bang!!* as she bashed it with her forearm.  Splinters of wood flew everywhere as the doorknob made a dent in the wall from swinging open so fast.

Camilla saw her dad nearly pass out in fright as she came in – but otherwise he seemed fine.  She breathed a big sigh of relief.  “Thank god, you’re OK,” she exclaimed.  “When you didn’t answer, I didn’t know what to expect!”  Maybe he’d overdosed on pain pills; maybe he … I don’t even know what.

Her intention wasn’t to scare the life out of him, so she sat on the bed near him – noting how he instinctively recoiled from her – and said reassuringly, “I’m not here to hurt you.  I was just worried, that’s all.  And we can fix that door; I’d rather you have one without a lock, anyway.”  She waved dismissively.  “But that’s neither here nor there.  Who were you talking to?”

She watched his eyes go wide – not a good sign.  He grew increasingly frightened and shook his head.  “N-N-No one, m-ma’am,” he squeaked.

Camilla’s inclination toward gentleness dissipated slightly.  “You’re lying.”

He really freaked out now – but he still had the nerve to shake his head again!

This just … got to her.  She couldn’t help it.  “Mark Theodore Lawrence,” she declared brusquely, eyebrows furrowing, “if there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s dishonesty.  Tell me who you called – this instant!”

Mark almost fainted again.  Will she punish me worse if I don’t tell, or if I do!?!  …But she’ll find out either way, now – the cops are coming! Oh god, what have I done!?!  His anxiety reached a fever pitch.  I never should have called 9-1-1 at all!!!

But he still couldn’t bring himself to say it.  He trembled.

Soon, his silence didn’t matter, as Camilla lost patience and reached across him for his phone lying on the bed beside him.  He could see the anger in her eyes – and then feel it explicitly, as her free hand clamped down on his thigh and squeezed.

He shrieked in pain.  It really fucking hurt!!!  She was indenting his quadriceps and hamstring, cutting off circulation, really digging in.  “Hush,” she ordered.  But the only thing really keeping him from crying out again was the knowledge that she could squeeze much, much harder if she wanted.

She frowned at the login screen on his phone.  “What’s your password?” she asked curtly.

He cried out anyway, as the pressure on his thigh increased ever-so-slightly.  “1-9-3-7!!” he blurted frantically.

His eyes rolled back into his head as she opened his recent calls list.  He awaited the surge of anger that would make her hurt his leg so much worse …

“Michael!” she exclaimed, sounding scandalized.  Miraculously, she released her grip, out of sheer disbelief.  “You called the cops??”  She blinked, then … calmed.  “Well, I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised.  I do wish you’d talked to me first, though; there were better ways to go about this.”

His breathing was still rapid and shallow, but it slowed just a little.  “You’re … you’re not …?”

“Mad?  About you calling them?  No.  A little peeved, certainly, but I won’t punish you for it.  I believe very strongly that you should only be punished for things I explicitly warned you against – and I haven’t put any restrictions on who you can call.  That’s my fault, perhaps, but so be it.”

They heard three loud knocks on the front door.  “That must be them,” Camilla declared calmly.  She stood up and nodded for him to follow.  “Come on.”

Mark was bewildered but had no choice here.  He trailed her out of his room, wondering why she was acting this way.

She stopped in her tracks halfway there, though, and looked back at him grimly.  “I am very upset that you lied to me, however.  Expect consequences for that when we’re done here.”

Mark gasped.  He couldn’t believe she was being so brazen, with the officer at their door!  Isn’t she even a little worried!??

Camilla adopted a very somber air as she opened the front door.  “Good morning, officer.  I understand my father called you.  Please, come in.”  She stepped aside and waved the officer in.

Mark blinked as he saw the female officer come inside.  She was multiple inches taller than Camilla, and one of the few women he’d seen who was noticeably more built than her, too.  With her police officer boots, tight uniform, wide utility belt including a large handgun, and a big, shiny badge just below his eye level, this officer was quite a presence to behold.

“I’m Officer Carmichael,” she declared, in a naturally booming voice.  “I’m here to answer a domestic disturbance call.  So, I take it you are the two parties involved?”

“Yes, officer,” Camilla confirmed.  When Mark stayed silent – he was still rather awed by the woman’s presence, frankly – Camilla nudged him gently.  “Please reply, Mark,” she requested simply.

Mark couldn’t believe she was still giving him orders!!  “Y-Yes, officer,” he said uncertainly.

“Alright,” said the cop, pulling out a pad of paper.  “I’ll take your statements separately.  Ma’am, if you could step into the other room, please – the dining room is fine.”

“Certainly, officer.”  She went and sat at the dinner table, well out of earshot but still within sight.  Does she really have to still be in sight? he lamented.

The cop turned to face him.  Christ, she’s big.  REALLY freaking big.  She was almost as tall as Camilla in heels, and his neck quickly became sore looking up at her.  He really wished she would stand a little farther away…

“Let’s start with your names, please,” the officer instructed.

“Mark Theodore Lawrence.  And Camilla Anne Lawrence.”

The officer jotted it down with a pencil.  “And her relation to you?”

Mark winced.  “Daughter.”  He shifted uncomfortably.  “She’s 20 years old.”

The officer didn’t even blink – he expected her to be more surprised.  “I see.  I’d like you to tell me first about the physical abuse; you said on the phone that she hit you.  What was the nature of this abuse, and where and when did it happen?”

* * *

Camilla couldn’t hear the conversation, but she watched her father’s shoulders hunch forward, his arms tuck in toward his chest, his expression showing increasing distress and agitation as he recounted the events to the entirely dispassionate officer.  Camilla was actually pleased to find that she herself felt no regret or remorse for what she’d done – not even a little bit.  Part of her found this a bit odd, but she brushed past it and waited patiently for her turn to explain events.

* * *

Mark was extremely frustrated.  Here he was, divulging some very emotional, humiliating, and quite harrowing details, and the officer couldn’t even show a bit of empathy!  Not even a sympathetic glance at him, or reassuring gesture!  She remained entirely emotionless, like a stone.

Afterward, she told him nothing.  “So,” he prompted anxiously, “what are you going to—“

A swift hand gesture silenced him.  “Please, sir,” she said flatly.  “I’ll decide that once I’ve taken your daughter’s statement.”

He grimaced in frustration as the officer went over to Camilla and sat down with her.  Ugh, why couldn’t she have sat down for me?? he thought sourly.

* * *

“Alright,” the officer said, scooting her chair in, “I think I have a clear picture now, but I’ll need your help filling in some details.  Your father indicated that you spanked him, correct?”

“That’s correct,” Camilla admitted openly.

The officer nodded.  “And, just for the record, how long did this spanking continue?  Your father’s memory was hazy in this regard.”

“I spanked him three times.”

The officer tilted her head in surprise.  “Three different occasions??”

“Oh – no, only one occasion.  I slapped his bottom three times.”

“Only three??”

“Yes.”

The officer was definitely surprised now.  She erased what she’d written earlier and wrote over it.

“Is there a problem, officer?” Camilla asked helpfully.

“No, no,” Officer Carmichael replied.  “I had assumed it was more extensive, that’s all.”  She scribbled a little more.  “Now, your father appears to believe that permanent or at least significant lingering damage has occurred as a result of this – in particular to his spinal column, if I understand him correctly.  Any comment?”

Camilla couldn’t help but scoff lightly.  “I’m sorry, officer, but that’s absolutely ridiculous.  He just doesn’t have a good frame of reference for this kind of thing.  His back was fully supported by my thighs, and I only contact his rump, not his spinal column at all.  And if I had to put a number on it, I’d say I used about two-thirds force – certainly not all I could have delivered.  I’m no doctor, but I’m certain that what he’s feeling is nothing more than soft tissue soreness.”  She winced.  “Sorry if that’s too much detail, but …”

“No, that’s excellent.”  She wrote it down.  “Alright.  And he mentioned other incidents as well: in his words, an ‘aggressive attack’ on his shoulder as well as ‘aggressive shaking’ which occurred last night, as well as another ‘attack’ on his thigh just minutes ago.  Let’s start with the shoulder – can you remember where on the body this occurred?  You may demonstrate on me if you like.”

“Of course.”  Camilla reached out and found the same hold on the officer’s shoulder as she’d used on Mark yesterday.

“Is that approximately the strength you used?” the officer queried.

“Oh – no.  OK, now.”  She squeezed exactly as hard as she’d squeezed Mark.  Of course, although the officer wasn’t tensing her muscles, the highly-dense muscle tissue gave way only slightly to Camilla’s firm but reasonable grip.  Her father’s muscle tissue had basically felt like jello by comparison – and that was not an exaggeration.

“Hmm,” the officer said calmly, jotting a quick note.  She was very far from any sort of pain.  “Thank you.  And for the other two …”

Camilla explained the degree of jostling to her, then did a similar hands-on demonstration to the officer’s firm thighs – of course, her hand couldn’t reach as far around her leg as her dad’s, but she did her best.

The officer nodded and wrote some more.  “That certainly clarifies things.  He indicated that there may be significant damage to his thigh and shoulder too, but based on your testimony, that would certainly be just embellishment on his part as well.”

“Oh, without a doubt!  Yes, certainly.”

The office slid her pencil through the rings in the pad of paper.  “Alright.  Thank you very much.”  She and Camilla rose together and walked over to Mark, who almost immediately moved to the opposite side of the officer as where Camilla was standing.  He continued to fidget anxiously.

“I have all the information I need,” Officer Carmichael declared down at him.

“So … what now??” Mark couldn’t help but ask.  “Will there be a restraining order or something?  Do you take her away from here?  How does this work??”

He watched the officer glance at Camilla then back at him.  “That’s only for severe cases,” the officer explained plainly, “where one party is in serious, imminent danger.”

Mark nodded in agreement.  “Right – just like me.  Excellent.  So, when does it… um …”  His voice trailed off as he reconsidered what she meant.  And his mouth fell open wide.

Camilla flinched as his voice suddenly became shrill and bombarded her ears: “WHAT!?!?  ARE YOU TELLING ME THIS ISN’T ‘SERIOUS DANGER’!?!?  You … you don’t understand how HARD she hit me!!  She should go to JAIL, NO FREAKING QUESTION ABOUT IT!!!  She … She …”  He began to hyperventilate, wheezing rapidly.

“I do realize it’s serious,” the officer replied calmly, diplomatically, “relatively speaking.  But, to be perfectly honest, with our limited resources we cannot afford to get involved in each and every domestic dispute of this nature.  There are simply too many now.  The police force needs to focus on severe abuse cases – broken bones or worse, which require immediate medical care and put the victims’ lives at risk.  It is unfortunate, but that’s the reality.”

Camilla’s dad looked like he might calm down, but then he exploded again: “But…But it’s so much more than just the physical abuse!!!  She literally TOLD me she was in charge now – of our HOUSE; even of my other KIDS!!!  I’M her FATHER – shouldn’t that count for SOMETHING!?!?  You didn’t even write THAT stuff down when I told you!!!”

Camilla was impressed by how calm Officer Carmichael remained, in the face of this grown man screaming at her.  She merely waited for him to wear himself out again, then told him understandingly but firmly, “The police department is unable to help with that.  If you like, I can give you the number for Public Works, who deals with domestic situations – although, I understand they’re quite overrun with calls nowadays.”

“Can they separate Camilla from the family??” he asked wildly, desperately.

The officer pursed her lips.  “They … can help work through your concerns,” she said tactfully.

Camilla watched her dad’s knees buckle, showing that he realized what that meant.  “I … I …”  He drooped his head in disbelief.

The officer sighed.  She’d clearly seen a lot of these cases lately.  “As always, if there are ever any more serious claims to report, don’t hesitate to call 9-1-1 in the future.  Otherwise, I wish you the best.”

She certainly meant it, too – but you could also tell from her tone that she did NOT want him calling for the same reasons as today.  Camilla thanked the officer for her time and showed her out.

Tenderly, she went up to her dad and put a gentle hand on his back.  He twitched a little less this time – but his head stayed down.  “Why don’t you have a seat on the couch,” she suggested, with an insistent nudge.  “I’ll get you a nice, cool glass of water.”

When she returned, he was seated on the couch but looked at her venomously as she extended the glass to him.

“Take it,” she instructed firmly. 

He reluctantly took it and had a sip.  “I don’t understand,” he muttered.

“What don’t you understand?” Camilla asked, sitting beside him.  “Let’s talk about it.”  This could be an excellent teachable moment.  “And speak up, please.”

He shied away from her and shook his head in exasperation.  “How are the cops in on this, too?!?  So, I mean, is everyone in on this??”

She pursed her lips.  “If by ‘in on it’, you mean ‘embracing our new identity as a society’, then … yes.  I believe most everyone is ‘in on it’ now.”

“But how??  Why!?  How did I not know about this before!??”

“Well, things are changing very rapidly – by the week, if not daily, I think.  And I suppose some, like yourself, were too stubborn to notice the signs of change.  It also helped that I went easy on you for so long.”

He shuddered visibly.  “I … I …”

She sensed the conversation getting derailed, so she drove it onward.  “I’m NOT upset that you called the cops,” she reiterated, from earlier.  “In fact, I’m sort of glad you did, so we can move past it as a family.  I’d like you to take the next ten minutes to sit here, quietly, and reflect on what you’ve just learned about us and society as a whole.  And then…”  She took his wrist and gently turned it, to look at his watch, “at 9:34, I’ll return – and we’ll discuss your punishment for lying to me this morning.”

She heard him inhale sharply and felt his body jerk, through his wrist.  She released it, stood up, and strolled away, remembering what Lynn had told her: ‘Often, the anticipation of punishment is more effective than the punishment itself’.  She paused.  However, that doesn’t mean the punishment should be light, necessarily.  He’s still in the formative phase, in which my actions toward him will echo for a long time to come.

* * *

All manner of punishments flitted through Mark's mind during those ten minutes.  He was a real wreck by the time she returned. 

"Had time to think about what you've learned?" she inquired, looking over him.

Her tone was so effortlessly patronizing. "Yes, ma'am," he said as meekly as possible - anything to lessen his punishment.   

"Alright then."  She strode to the kitchen counter, grabbed a pencil and paper, and set them on the dinner table. Beckoning him over, she declared, "Your assignment - on top of some chores I'll give you - is to write a short essay, about half a page, describing what you've learned about gender roles in society, and how it relates to your status with me and in the family.  Any questions on that?"

Mark was dumbfounded. This was not something he'd expected at all.

“Take a moment to think about it," she encouraged, folding her hands patiently. 

He did, as best he could. "I ... don't know what to write," he admitted, then hastily clarified, "I mean, I just don't know how to fill half a page."  The topic seemed straightforward: women were in charge. Men were not. Sucks to be a guy.  End of story.

"How about sharing some examples from what you saw with your friends and their wives?  That should help. And I recommend making it as personal as possible; this isn’t just about what you observe in society, but how it impacts you and where your thought process stands now.  That’ll make a big impact on your grade.”

“M-My grade??”

“Yes.  After you read your essay, you’ll get feedback and be assigned a grade from 1 to 5, 1 being the best.”

This is all so weird.  “5’s not the best?”

“Oh, no, no, you don’t want a 5.”

He paused warily.  “Wh … Why?  What does the grade mean?”

“It’s how many spanks I’ll give you afterwards.”

He shrieked and then tripped over his feet, falling to the floor.  Frantically, he scrambled to his feet, his back pressed against the wall, as he shook his head wildly.  “Please,” he begged hoarsely.  “Please, Camilla.  Don’t do this.  I’m sorry for lying earlier – I’m SO FREAKING SORRY!!!  I swear to god, it won’t happen again!!!  If you just let—“

She held up a hand to silence him.  “Enough, Mark.  There is nothing you can possibly say or do to get you out of this entirely.  Your best hope right now is to write a REALLY good, heartfelt essay and earn yourself just one spank – the minimum.  Keep in mind, though, that these spanks will be just as hard as the last ones, if not harder.”

He blinked.  Once the words sank in, a strange moan emanated from his lips, crescendoing into a shrill, disbelieving cry.  “I-I’ve already learned my lesson,” he pleaded.  “I swear.”

“If that’s the case, then I’m sure the essay will be excellent.”  She patted his shoulder.  “I’m heading to work.  See you tonight.”

She saw his eyes twitch in confusion.  I never told him about the job – I talked to Vanessa yesterday and she let me change my mind about quitting.  Good, because I do like working there.

Her father’s brief confusion morphed into vacant disbelief, lips trembling.  It was good to see that he was genuinely afraid; he’d learn better that way.  But he’d also been fairly defiant earlier that day – which she couldn’t allow; it was bad for the whole family if she allowed that, including him.  Hopefully eventually she wouldn’t need to punish him daily to keep him in line.

* * *

He wasted too much time stuck in indecision, wondering how he might get out of this.  Camilla was away now, but she'd taken the car; could he run (literally) to the police station? Maybe someone else there would actually help him?  Fucking doubtful.  He had no relatives who could take him and the other kids in, but maybe he could call up some old friends who were single and had avoided this madness?  But who?

Maybe he could just run away from home for a few days, stay at a hotel, buy himself time to think. He HAD to get the fuck out of there! She's going to spank me again!!

But all those options for leaving the house only increased his risk of MORE spanking.  More pain.  More humiliation. What if he left home and a neighbor saw him? What if he went to the cops and they called Camilla to pick him up or something?? There were far too many ways it could backfire.   

All paths led to him staying put as the best option.  And write the best goddamned essay of his life.  He may feel like a grade school student for it, but he simply had no other choice.

* * *

Camilla had another fantastic day at work; her boss had been thrilled to have her back, with no hard feelings.  When she got home, she gently pushed open his bedroom door – the handle was still busted from that morning – and found him erasing furiously and cramming words into the last couple lines of the page she’d handed him earlier.

“Good evening, Mark.”

“Gah!”  He lifted his head and visibly panicked when he saw her.  He was incredibly stressed out, his limbs jittering and his eyes flitting about rapidly.

“Are you ready?” she asked with a pleasant smile.

His face went pale.  “I-I-I … I’m … n-not q-quite … um …”

“You have three minutes, sweetie.  Then bring that with you and meet me in the living room.”

She was dressed very professionally again, with high heels, and he couldn’t for the life of him fathom why he’d ever taken her for granted.  In particular, his eyes focused on her arms, her powerful arms, and he thought about what they were about to do to him.  My stubbornness had blinded me.  How could I have been so stupid…

He realized this was how he needed to finish his essay.  He’d agonized over every line all day, but none more than the last few.  Now he had it.  It had to work.  It had to.

* * *

Camilla watched her father emerge from the bedroom – not a minute too soon – and teeter across the house toward her, seeming ready to fall over at any moment.  He still had his limp from yesterday, plus he seemed extremely worried.  Excellent.

She was sitting with impeccable posture on the middle cushion of the living room couch, legs crossed, arms folded.  “Stand here, please,” she requested, gesturing to the carpet four feet in front of her.

He got there, wavered, and began to recite his essay.  “Whoops – not yet,” she corrected, putting a hand up.  “Just a couple more minutes before we begin.”  She folded her hands again and waited patiently.  Her father’s unrest steadily increased.

After another minute or two, Camilla heard one of the bedroom doors open in the hallway behind her.  “We’re in here!” Camilla called out.

She saw Mark give a confused look, then his eyes got wider, and wider.  He started to shake his head, slowly backpedaling, his mind refusing to believe.

“This is part of your test,” Camilla confirmed.  “I know you’ll tell me what I want to hear, more or less – but can you say it in front of the kids, too??  If you’ve truly accepted all this, there should be no problem.  If you can’t, though, then I’ll know that much more correction is needed.”

They heard feet shuffling down the hall.  Mark backpedaled even further.

“You do NOT want to take another step,” Camilla warned coolly, arching an eyebrow.  She pointed to his original spot, and with extreme reluctance he returned to it.

His expression absolutely melted when the kids came into the room – first Chloe, then Ryan, then Kayla.  “Have a seat,” Camilla instructed gently.  “Squeeze in.”

They did so, then all four pairs of eyes turned to Mark.  “What’s happening?” Chloe asked, seeing her dad’s miserable expression.  She turned her head to Camilla.  “What’s this about?”

“Our father is going to share some insights he’s learned recently.  I’ve asked him to reflect on this today, after he lied to me this morning.  And I wanted you all to hear what he has to say, since you’re all old enough to hear this and know the truth of how things are.”

The three younger kids were all equally shocked – but Chloe was first to speak again.  “Did you … punish him?” she inquired cautiously.  “For lying to you?”

Camilla smiled – her sister was quite sharp.  “Not yet,” she replied.  “I wanted to hear what he’s written before deciding how much he needs.”

The kids’ already-wide eyes nearly popped out of their heads.  “Whoa,” Chloe muttered – and he might have imagined it, but she might have seemed almost a bit … excited.

Oh, how Mark would have loved to give Chloe a sharp rebuke and set her straight – but even that basic parenting liberty was no longer an option for him.  He watched Camilla in fear as she calmly folded her hands again, and he knew that self-preservation was all he could aim for now.  With no possible means of escape, he frightfully looked at the page and began reading, having to force each syllable out of his mouth.  It was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do.

“Eleven days ago, when I first found out I was losing my job.  I thought I could keep it, if I just tried hard enough.  Then, I thought I could find a new job, and spent the whole last week looking for one.  You—“  He shifted uncomfortably.  “—Camilla,” he clarified, “told me very wise words that I regret not listening to now.  No company will hire me now.  You were right.  I promise I—“  He grimaced.  “I promise I won’t even think about looking for a job again, not just because it’s a waste of time, but because you want me here at home.”

His face reddened but he kept his eyes down on the page.  “When I saw how my friends and their wives acted toward each other at dinner last week, I thought they were being wimps and I couldn’t understand why.  I thought they were making a choice to act that way.

“But after you …”  He gulped.  “After you …”  He fought back tears.  “After you spanked me yesterday, I understood their actions.  I know that their wives are in charge of them, and I …”  He shut his eyes, slowly opened them.  “I know that you’re in charge of me now, too.  When you spanked me, it … changed me.  I don’t want to be in charge anymore.  I just … I just want you to not spank me.  I wish I could say I had higher motivations, but I …”  A tear dropped onto the page, prompting him to wipe his cheek.  “… I want to be as honest with you as possible.  I’m scared of you.  I don’t want you to hit me anymore, and I’ll …”  He wavered.  “…I’ll do anything to make that happen.  It was very, very stupid of me to lie to you today, and I am truly, deeply sorry, and I swear I won’t let it happen again and I’ll accept that you’re in charge from here on out.”

He took a long breath and made the mistake of looking into his kids’ eyes.  Ryan was stunned and horrified; Kayla was also stunned, but overtaken with morbid fascination, her eyes watching him like a hawk and observing every detail.  But Chloe’s mouth kept turning upward in a poorly-concealed smile, her eyes wide and sparkling as if already considering the possibilities – and liking them tremendously.  Honestly, that scared him almost as much as Camilla’s cool, expressionless poise.  But Camilla was the one who would be hitting him, so his attention drifted almost entirely to her.

Camilla let the silence marinate for a few long seconds, then straightened her skirt and – instead of addressing him – turned to her siblings.  “Well,” she said, “this is a family meeting, and as this pertains to the entire family, I’d like to ask you guys: thoughts? feelings? reactions?  Please, be as open as possible; there’s no wrong answer here.”

After a long pause, Chloe coughed and said bluntly, “Well, uh … I think it’s great you’re in charge now, Camilla.  Like, REALLY freaking great.  I …” She looked at her dad with almost … scorn?  “I’m SUPER happy about this,” she concluded, sitting back with a smile.

Mark made a strangled noise but said nothing.

“That’s great to hear,” Camilla replied lightly, “but what about our father’s essay, specifically?  Any comments?”  Chloe thought for a moment but shrugged.  “Kayla?  Ryan?” Camilla asked.

“Can I go to my room??” Ryan blurted, fidgeting anxiously.

Chloe immediately turned on him.  “Why??  Camilla didn’t say you could.”

Ryan turned a bit pale and lowered his eyes.  He – rightly so – was worried what this all meant for him too, as a member of the same gender as Dad.

“Easy,” Camilla chided gently, shaking her head slightly at Chloe before replying candidly to her brother, “No – you should stay.  We all need to participate in this family meeting.”  She waited a moment.  “Kayla?  How about you?”

Kayla hesitated, then said quickly, “I thought Dad, uh … was bein’ really honest.”

“Yeah?” Camilla prompted.  “And what told you that?”

Kayla bit her lip tentatively.  “I mean, I’m sure he really didn’t wanna say that stuff, and he prolly wouldn’t have said it if he didn’t mean it.  And besides … I dunno, he just looked like he meant it too.”

Camilla nodded.  “I agree.  He seemed sincere.”

They all heard Mark sigh in nervous relief.  He seemed about ready to pass out, though.

“That’s definitely the main consideration,” Camilla went on, “when I decide how many spanks to give him.  So that bodes well for him.”

Kayla and Chloe became animated and asked for more details, which Camilla patiently gave: Yes, she would be spanking him tonight, regardless; she planned to give no less than one and no greater than five; and yes, they could stick around to watch.

When Chloe heard this, her eyes came alive like never before.  “I think he deserves five,” she said confidently, as her father’s mouth fell open.

Camilla lifted an eyebrow at her; did she seem a bit amused?  “Why do you think so?”

Chloe shrugged.  “I dunno; he just does.  He’s gotta learn somehow.”

As Camilla appeared to consider this, Mark’s face turned several shades paler.

“What number would you say, Kayla?” Camilla asked next.

Mark held his breath.  “One,” Kayla said, after contemplation.  “I mean, he did the best he could – he was honest!”

Mark exhaled in relief.  It was ludicrous that Camilla was even taking input from them, but he couldn’t tell how much it would sway her anyway.

Camilla nodded again.  “I tend to agree with Kayla,” she replied thoughtfully.  “I’m quite pleased with his honesty, and I think he deserves only—“

“Wait!” Chloe cut in.  Mark almost had a conniption.

“Yes, Chloe?” said Camilla.

“Hear me out,” her sister said adamantly.  “He said his only motivation is to not get spanked, right?  Well, shouldn’t he want to behave because it’s the right thing to do??  Look, if you go easy on him, he’s CLEARLY gonna just act up again later, ‘cuz all he responds to is spanking.”

Mark watched in horror as his eldest daughter considered his second daughter’s words.  DON’T FUCKING LISTEN TO HER!!! he wanted to scream.  SHUT UP, CHLOE!!!

But Camilla replied, “Hmm … interesting.  So you’re suggesting …?”

“Spank him a lot,” Chloe declared.  “REALLY give him something to think about.  Five, maybe ten spanks … I dunno.  I just feel like you gotta act fast if you’re gonna change him.”

Mark couldn’t believe how bluntly his teenage daughter was suggesting this.  It was disturbing how quickly her attitude changed once he couldn’t do anything to control her.  I know the two of us have fought a lot over the years, but … my god…

He looked fearfully into Camilla’s eyes as she contemplated, then finally said, “I think we need one more bit of input here.  Mark – how many spanks do YOU think you deserve?”

He wobbled and had to stick his leg out to keep from falling.  This was so far into the realm of lunacy now.

“Think carefully,” Camilla suggested, and he realized what was at stake.  This was a loaded question: take the path of humility and give a high number, and she might call his bluff and give it to him.  Pick a low number, and she might conclude he needed more.

He wavered, trembled …

“I need a number, Mark.  What’ll it be? … If you don’t answer me, I’ll—”

“Three!!” he blurted brashly, without thinking it through.  He slapped his hands over his mouth and recoiled in horror.  THREE spanks – each with more force than last time – would completely break his mind and body …

Both of Camilla’s eyebrows rose.  “And why?” she inquired, locking eyes with him.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh SHIT!!!  “I … I …”  He tried to orchestrate some compelling response about how ‘humble’ he was, how this was the ‘right thing to do’, etcetera … but in his panic he ended up just giving the truth.  “I-I thought y-you’d get mad if I said ‘one’, a-and too scared to say ‘five’, and … and I thought you’d spank me the least if I said ‘three’!!”  He admitted this like a madman, and fell into worried twitches as Camilla watched him.

“See!?” Chloe exclaimed.  “That’s all he cares about: getting spanked less!  Camilla, you gotta set him straight!”

Not even Kayla spoke up for him this time.  She just shrugged quietly.

After an excruciating pause, Camilla took a deep breath and announced, “I’ve decided.  Kids, could you make room, please?  Mark, come and lay across my lap.”

Mark’s heart beat so loud in his ears, he could hardly hear Chloe ask, “But how many??”

He saw Camilla give her a dismissive wave then beckon him forward.  Oh god help me, he thought, stepping up as if to the gallows while his other kids stood up and hovered around.  Kayla and Chloe crowded forward interestedly, while Ryan hung farther back with a sickened look on his face.

He lay face-down across his daughter’s lap, and his tears began dripping down to the floor before it even began.  “As I’ve already told him,” Camilla explained aloud, “each slap will be just as hard as yesterday – or a touch harder.  This is truly for his own good.  It’s the fastest possible way for him to learn.”

“Sounds good,” his second daughter replied eagerly.  She was standing close enough that he saw her legs in his peripheral vision.

His tears streamed faster as he felt her wind up – and then came the first incomprehensible, earth-shattering blow, filling the room like a thunderclap. 

***THWWAACKKK!!!!!!***

Disbelief filled the three onlookers’ eyes – and plenty of other emotions, too.  But they each stood motionless as they watched their father’s reaction, as strong or stronger than the day before.  Their shoulders hunched as their eldest sister raised her hand a second time.

***THWWAACKKK!!!!!!***

After another pregnant pause, Camilla appeared ready to go a third time.  Ryan, Kayla, and even Chloe now seemed hesitant to watch it again.  The three relaxed just slightly when Camilla lowered her arm and gently laid him on the couch, then quietly shooed them out to leave him in whatever peace he could find.  Chloe in particular returned to her room feeling overwhelmed by the power – both physical and emotional – of what she’d just witnessed.

 

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

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.

 

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

One Month Later

All was silent in the house; tranquil.  He lay back on the couch, totally at ease.

A thump startled him.  Another thump followed.  He sat bolt upright, craning his neck towards the direction of the sound.  It was coming from upstairs.

His widening eyes followed along as the rhythmic creaking of floorboards traversed the floor above, moving toward the staircase.  “Not already!” he wheezed, in a ragged voice, rising shakily to his feet and staggering backwards, his hands feeling their way past the couch and table, as his eyes didn’t dare to leave the stairs in front of him.  “Why?” he croaked, voice rising in panic.  “Why can’t you just leave me alone??”

Sinister laughter emanated from the staircase, as if in direct response to his despair. A shadow fell over the wall upstairs, as a hulking shape approached.  His wits gave out entirely; he spun and dashed for the front door.  The knob didn’t turn!  He frantically fumbled for the lock, wasting precious moments …

The evil chuckle repeated.  He turned back in horror.  “No, no, no…” he moaned.

The massive four-headed, six-footed monstrosity reared its heads back and bellowed with laughter – then its razor-sharp clawlike arms and tentacly legs tore down the stairs straight for him.

“Nooooo!!!!  Aggghhhh!!!’

The men jumped as blood spattered everywhere on-screen.  “Oh, snap!” Alan yelped.

“Daaammn!!”  Ray punched his buddy on the shoulder, as a head went flying across the screen.  “Did you see that shit!?”  Outlandish screams could still be heard amidst the thrashing of the ridiculous creature’s limbs.

“He’s got no head and he’s still screaming,” Mark groaned, turning to Phil.  “How’d we get dragged into watching this crap?”

Phil shrugged.  “Beats me.  Uh … you wanna get another round of beer?”

“So I don’t have to keep sitting here?  God, yes.”  Mark got up and followed Phil toward the back door.

“Hey, you’re gonna miss the best part!” Ray called out.  “Just wait 30 seconds!”

Mark and Phil rolled their eyes.  “We’re good,” Phil replied, as they kept going.

Ray scoffed and looked at Alan, who shrugged.  “Fine!  We’re coming too.”  They shut the TV off and trailed after them, still discussing the finer points of that god-awful scene.

A warm breeze gently blew Mark’s hair back as he slid the back door open and stepped outside.  He squinted in the bright sunlight and heard the pleasant rustling of leaves in the trees surrounding Alan’s backyard.  He stood there for a few moments, enjoying the weather.

A cold bottle of beer was placed in his hand. "Earth to Mark," Alan said. "Still with us?"

"Huh?  Oh.  Yeah.  I'm here."  Mark looked at his friends and leaned back lightly against the side of the house. 

Ray grinned. "It's been a while since we've seen you smile," he commented. 

Mark blinked. "Was I smiling?  I ... guess I was.  Huh ..."

Alan slapped him on the back. "Feelin' better lately, aren't you?"

Mark hesitated, then allowed another slight smile. "Yeah, I am.  I never thought I would."  His smile weakened slightly as he looked over at the towering women chatting nearby, Camilla among them.  After all this time, he still couldn’t quite get accustomed to how things were now.  He doubted he’d ever completely get used to it.  Camilla never showed even the slightest hesitation anymore, when bossing him around or asserting her dominance.  The other women didn’t, either.  But things had gotten better, so much better, the more his daughter became convinced that he truly wasn't looking to usurp any authority anymore; convinced that he had accepted the new way of things.  The way she'd handled him in those early days still gave him nightmares at times ... but the worst was clearly over now.

Even Chloe hadn’t been nearly as much of a fright for him once Camilla realized her younger sister’s sinister intentions toward him.  Camilla, if you asked her, only did things to him out of necessity; but Chloe tormenting him for the fun of it was utterly unacceptable to her elder sister – especially once Chloe, just a couple weeks later, officially became stronger than him.  Mark winced, remembering the threats Chloe had made … and the few threats she had started to follow through on …

But Camilla had fixed that.  He didn’t know what she had told Chloe, exactly, but Chloe hadn’t given him nearly as much grief ever since.

"I told you it'd get better, didn't I?" Alan quipped, taking another swig from his bottle. 

Mark couldn't help but nod. "You were right," he admitted.

A bout of laughter rose among the women nearby.  Mark watched Camilla tighten her hand into a fist and playfully slug Hana on the arm, in retribution for some joke at her expense.  Hana slugged Camila back, starting a halfhearted shoving match between the two.  But Mark knew that any one of those casual, effortless blows would have sent him flying to the ground, with only a black eye or bruised shoulder if he were lucky.  Four weeks ago, powerful muscles had remained mostly concealed within a relatively normal-looking body; but by now, there was nothing subtle about the way her sculpted biceps flared and her pecs swelled beneath her blouse with even the slightest movement of her arm.  That, along with the extra height she’d gained – what was she now? 6’9”? more?? – she looked like she could take on even the strongest of men and whip them senseless.  And she was still much stronger than she looked, too.

His throat tightened, as if squeezed by some imaginary hand, as his daughter’s gaze happened upon him and she beckoned him toward her with a carefree smile.  It didn’t matter how friendly her mood was – he couldn’t approach her without feeling a constant, low-level sense of dread.

But he was also far beyond the days when he would dare to hesitate at her commands.  He left the group of guys instantly and gave Camilla the courtesy of hurrying toward her, which made her smile even more.

Wearing heels, as she always did, her ever-enlarging breasts were right at eye level, if not slightly above.  She rested a hand lightly on his shoulder, and he flinched as he always did.  Thoughts played out in his mind of the damage she could do to him, just by squeezing those fingers into his flesh and bones … He shuddered, but Camilla didn’t react to it.  She was certainly used to it, by now.

“Hi, sweetie!” his behemoth daughter greeted down at him.

“Hi, Camilla,” he replied up at her respectfully, dutifully.

“Heyyy, Mark,” Alan’s wife Carly said to him, with sort of a strange smile, catching him off-guard.

“Uhh … hey,” he replied nicely.  He didn’t actually know Carly that well … but man, she was gorgeous, though.  More than ever, these days.

Camilla brought his attention back.  “You and the boys are done watching your movie?” she asked.

He nodded quickly.  “Yes, Camilla.”

“How cute!” Camilla replied.  “Well, Hana just had the crazy notion that the four of you were in there conspiring together, or something.  Right, Hana?”

Mark’s mouth dropped open, as Ray’s wife laughed.  “I mean … not reaaallly,” she replied.  “At least, I know my Ray wouldn’t do that.  But I guess I can’t say for sure whether that applies to, well, you know …”

“She doesn’t fully trust you yet, Mark,” Camilla interjected, with an amused grin.

“Yeah, I guess not,” Hana confirmed, with a smile.

Mark absolutely panicked.  Just because they were smiling didn’t mean this wasn’t deadly serious.  He knew by now that allowing even the smallest seed of doubt to linger and grow in their minds could have dire consequences.

“We weren’t conspiring, Hana!” he told his friend’s wife frantically.  She, like the other women, were a bit shorter than Camilla, but still far taller and larger than him.  “I swear to you, we were watching the movie and nothing more!  I swear!!”

“Hmm,” Hana replied, not entirely convinced.  “Maybe he’s telling the truth,” she told Camilla, “but there’s no way to really know for sure, is there?”

His heart pounded wildly as Camilla shifted her stance,  her unavoidable breast brushing against his ear as she considered this.  “You’re right,” she agreed, “there’s no way to know for absolutely sure.”

Mark felt doom closing in on him, as Camilla effortlessly rotated his shoulder to face her more fully.  Her gaze probed his eyes and facial expression, seeking out the truth as she could do so frighteningly well.

“The best we can do is trust them,” his daughter concluded.  “And I trust my little Mark completely.”

She put a second hand on his other shoulder and swung him around rather abruptly to face Hana.  He knew she didn’t mean to be brusque; she just couldn’t really help it, with her strength.

“I vouch for him,” Camilla declared firmly.  “He’s too well behaved to even think about speaking out against me, even in private.  So there’s no chance he would ever do that.”

“Phil, neither,” Lynn chimed in.

“Nor Alan,” said Carly.

Hana smiled and nodded.  “And not Ray.  OK.  I trust you gals, so I’ll trust them.”  She took a sip of her wine.  “What a silly little thought that was, anyway.”

Camilla laughed.  “Yes – so silly!”  She mussed Mark’s hair.  “Would you like to stay and chat some more with us, pumpkin?”

He spun his head around to look up past his daughter’s breasts to her face above.  “A-Absolutely!” he squawked.  “Wh-Whatever you like.”

“Aww… you don’t have to.  You can go be with your buddies if you want.”  The oppressive weight of her hands lifted from his shoulders.

He studied her eyes closely, but there was clearly no wrong answer here.  One good thing about her: she always said what she meant, with no hidden meanings to worry about.

“Yes, Camilla,” he said with perfect politeness.  “Thank you.”  He stepped away from the circle – not too fast, but not slowly either.

That encounter had gone well – they almost always did, nowadays.  In fact, other than the occasional light reprimand, it had been almost two weeks since she’d been anything but happy with him.

He lurched to a halt in mid-stride, remembering that last time she had shown real dissatisfaction with him.  They had had people over for dinner again – some of Camilla’s coworkers – and he had completely forgotten to take the lasagna out of the oven amidst the bustle of other chores.  The lasagna was totally burnt and inedible by the time he realized.  He had had to throw out the whole thing and order carryout instead, delaying the dinner and causing an ‘incredible amount of embarrassment’ for Camilla, who had hoped to impress her boss and other coworkers with a perfect dinner.

She didn’t reprimand him during dinner or drinks afterward, but he saw the cold disappointment in her eyes all evening, and it was no surprise when she told him to go wait in her bedroom once the guests had left.  When she finally entered, she sat beside him and explained how important that evening had been to her, and then asked him, “Do you understand what I have to do next?”

He had fought hard not to cry as he nodded his head.  No matter how great or small the infraction, there seemed to be only one method of punishment she knew.

“I want to know how many you think you deserve,” she told him next.

This was a form of agony he was already familiar with – saying too many or too few could be equally devastating for him.  The best answer was the one she had in her head; but how could he know exactly what that was?

Her eyebrow arched slightly; his time for reflection was running out.  He initially thought to say a lower number, but horrified himself when he began to increase the number in his mind.  Most of him protested violently, but as his time ran out blurted a number much higher than he ever imagined he would.  “F-Five!”

Camilla was taken aback.  “Five?  You do know I won’t hold back any more than I did last time, don’t you?”

He trembled and nodded.

“Why five?  Is that what you think I had in mind?”

He shook his head truthfully, shivering from head to toe.

“What number did you think I would say?” she inquired.

“Two,” he admitted.  “O-Or three.”

Camilla pursed her lips and nodded.  “That’s about right.  So why did you say five?”

This was the part he was most afraid to admit.  “I … I want to show you how sorry I am!!” he exclaimed, in a strangled voice.  “A-And if you punish me more, I might not have to get punished so much after that!!”

Camilla inhaled sharply.  “You think I’ll go easy on you if you ask for more now??” she accused, with a scandalized glare.

“No!!” he said truthfully.  “I know you won’t!”  Her messed-up mind would never let her punish him any less than what she thought was ‘right’.  He shook his head and told her adamantly, “I hope if you punish me really hard, then I’ll … I’ll remember it more, a-and maybe I won’t mess up again!”

His own words scared him – because they were actually true.  He wasn’t just trying to look good; he really did think it might help him be more vigilant in following the rules.  He already thought he was trying as hard as humanly possible … but maybe he could do more.  You never know.  Humans are capable of just about anything, if placed in the right circumstances …

Camilla nodded, her expression unreadable.  “Very well.  Lay across my lap, please.”

The full reality of the situation hit him.  Oh my god … what have I done!?!

He could barely control his limbs as he frightfully draped his torso across his daughter’s broad thighs, his eyes facing the ground.

“It’ll take time for you to recover from this,” Camilla’s voice informed him dispassionately, from above.  “Several days, at least.  We’ll discuss what that means for you and your chores, later today.”

The calm efficiency of her words and movements scared him senseless, as – unlike before – she pulled down his pants to remove what little protection it provided.  He immensely regretted saying what he had.  How could I have been so stupid!?!

He saw the shadow of her arm raising up above him – and then he screamed.

“Aghhh!!!”

Mark’s mind returned to the present, as his friends turned to him with startled looks.  “You OK?” Alan and Phil both asked in unison.

His hands were clenched tight; every muscle in his body was tense.  He forced them to relax and slowed his frantic breaths.  “I-I’m fine.”

“Mark, are you alright?” Camilla called out.

He spun immediately and called back to her, “Yes, Camilla!  I’m sorry for making a scene!”

His daughter appeared to loom even from 20 feet away.  “It’s alright, honey.  No harm done.”

He gulped and ran a hand through his hair.  This wasn’t the first time since then that Camilla, and his friends, had witnessed him freak out suddenly.  They all knew what caused it, of course.

Phil pulled up a deck chair and encouraged Mark to sit, which he gladly did.  “Just give him a minute,” Phil suggested to the other two guys, who nodded understandingly and gave him space.

As Phil started to do the same, though, Mark grabbed his wrist.  “Wait…”

“Yeah, Mark?”  Phil crouched beside him.

“Phil… thank you for helping me,” Mark said, in the most heartfelt way.  “Did I ever tell you that?”

Phil chuckled.  “Yeah, I’m pretty sure you did.”

“Well, I mean it.  My life would … It would be so much worse without your advice.”  It may have seemed like a strange statement, given what Mark had endured – but the fact that things had been better since that last incident, and for a while before it too, was truly a godsend.  Life was still hard – plenty of chores, plenty of worry – but at least it was manageable now.  And, for a large portion of each day, he was still allowed to be himself  When he thought of where he could have been right now, versus where he actually was, it … well, it almost brought a tear to his eye.

“Oh, lighten up,” Phil joked gently.  But his nod told Mark that he understood exactly what Mark was feeling and knew how much his words truly meant.

Mark pulled his hand away and set it in his lap, then sat back in the chair – genuinely torn between thankfulness and anguish, feeling more conflicted than ever.

Phil started to leave, then paused.  “Can I ask you something?”

Mark looked up.  “Yeah?”

“Do you still blame her?” Phil asked softly.  “For what she’s done to you?”

Mark winced nervously, eyes flitting to Camilla across the yard.

“It’s OK – I won’t tell,” Phil assured him.

Mark paused for a long time.  He knew he could trust Phil absolutely.  But he still didn’t know how to answer right away.  Her actions were unspeakable … but she couldn’t help it, any more than other women could.

“Yes,” he replied eventually.  “I blame her.  But also … no.  Maybe some of both, I guess.”

Phil nodded thoughtfully.  “I know what you mean.”  He stood up with a sigh.  “Come on.  Alan and Ray look bored.”

Mark chuckled and got up to follow Phil.  He realized he had to go to the bathroom, though, so he told Phil he’d be right there as he went inside the house.

A minute later, on his way back out, he almost ran into Alan’s wife in the hallway.  “Oh!  Um, sorry, Carly.”

“No problem, stud.  Actually, you were just the guy I was looking for.”  She stepped back and very clearly looked down his body then up again, taking her time at it too.  A meaningful sparkle lit up her eyes.

“Uhh … I’m not sure why you were looking for me, but …”

He tried to step around her, but she put a hand on his chest and took his momentum away.  She was strong, too …

She laughed at his surprised reaction and withdrew her hand.  “Aww … you don’t have to be uncomfortable around me.  I’m your friend, Mark!”  Her left eyebrow rose.  “In fact, I’m hoping we can become much more.”

“E-Excuse me??”  He blinked in disbelief.  There was only one way to interpret her very pointed gaze.

“I’ve seen you looking at me,” Carly informed him.

“What?  I—“

“It’s OK!  I’ve had my eye on you too – not sure if you’ve noticed.”

“Uhhh… I guess maybe I noticed a little but … but …”

Alan’s hot wife put a hand to her mouth and smiled.  “Your cheeks are so red!  Ohh, I really need to get to know you better …”

He backed away and shook his hands in the air.  “I’m sorry, this is … I mean, I’m flattered, but … but Alan …”

“Oh, he knows!  Actually, he was quite OK with the idea.”

“What!?!”

“And no, I didn’t force him to say yes, or anything like that.  I’m not really into that kind of thing.  No, I much prefer my husband – and my other lovers – to be totally open and willing.  And, if I may be so bold, I think you might be, Mark.”

She smiled down at him even wider.  He had no doubt his face was still getting redder by the second.  “L-Look, you’re … beautiful,” he admitted.  “Gorgeous.  But—“

“Why, thank you!”  She batted her eyes in highly alluring fashion, inching her tall frame a little closer to him, leaning forward slightly to enhance her already generous cleavage.

“But … but I don’t know.  I’m still not sure Alan is, um…”

“You don’t believe me?  Go ask him!”

He shook his head confusedly.  “OK, but still, I … I mean …”

The gorgeous woman took another step and bent forward, slipping her hand around the back of his neck gently, enticingly.  “I know this is all happening fast,” she said in a sultry whisper, her sparkling eyes just inches from his, “but Alan and I are very open to trying new things, and … well, if you’re hesitant, we can just keep this to you and me – he doesn’t have to join, unless you’re comfortable.  Don’t worry; he’s fine with that too.  He’s had his share of fun with other women, lately.  It’s OK.”

She shot him a wink and brought her head forward to plant a seductive kiss on his cheek, not far from his lips.  “Think about it,” she whispered.  “No pressure.  But I know it could be a lot of fun…”

With that, she stood straight and walked away, her hips sashaying in the most mesmerizing way as she reached the back door and went out, but not before one more sultry glance over her shoulder.

He shuddered.  To be honest, he’d had a thing for Carly for a very long time – even before things began to change.  And now, with her recent physical enhancements and bold new attitude, she was not easy to get out of his head.  Of course, he wouldn’t seriously consider her offer – would he? – unless Alan really was alright with it.

As soon as he composed himself and went out to rejoin the guys, though, Alan looked right at him with a patient, questioning gaze.  Mark saw immediately that Alan knew Carly had just confronted him, and knew what she had said to him too.  “Yeah?” Alan asked, tilting his head.

He did seem totally on-board – as crazy as that seemed.  Mark shrugged and muttered, “Maybe,” and Alan gave a nod then turned back to the others like nothing had happened.

As Mark started to rejoin the conversation, he glanced over and saw Carly grinning at him from the other side of the backyard.  Her tongue played across her upper lip in the most weakening way.

OK, Mark decided, this could be fun.  A hellll of a lot of fun.  He started to look forward to this more than anything in weeks.

He turned back to the conversation and followed along for a few more minutes, sipping his beer cheerfully.  Before very long, he noticed a familiar car pull up and park in front of the house.

“That’ll be Chloe,” Mark mentioned to the others.  “She was supposed to head here after her work.  I’ll go tell her we’re back here.”

He excused himself from the group and pushed open the wooden gate to enter the front yard.  The door swung shut behind him as he crossed toward their car, where his second eldest daughter was getting out.

He slowed, then halted completely.  Chloe thrust open the door, got out, and slammed it shut, while practically screaming into her phone.  “SCREW YOU!!! FINE – I DON’T WANNA SEE YOU AND YOUR BONY ASS ANYMORE EITHER!!!”

She hung up furiously and stormed around the car, jerking her head up in surprise when she saw him standing nearby.

She snarled.  “Shut up!”

Mark was caught off-guard.  After Camilla had set her straight a couple weeks ago, Chloe had never even snapped at him like that since.  “I didn’t say anything,” he pointed out.

This only made her madder.  “Rrrrghhh!!!  I HATE guys!!  You all SUCK!!!”  She stalked past him, toward the backyard.  She was roughly his height now – and sure as hell stronger.  He inched a bit sideways to avoid any chance of collision.

But curiosity got the better of him.  “Boyfriend?” he asked mildly.

She stopped in her tracks and swiveled around.  “What!?  Ugh … yeah, that was him.  So what?!?”

He bit his lip.  He knew Camilla still wanted the two of them to try to form some sort of bond and get along with each other.  Chloe sure hadn’t made any effort on this front; but for Camilla’s sake, he decided to try.  “Just asking.  You know, I have plenty of experience with these things.  If you ever want to talk, just—“

“Huh!??  HELL no!!  Just shut the hell up!!”

She was acting way out of line, compared to normal.  He wouldn’t dream of pulling the paternal authority card on her anymore – that was long in the past – but he knew Camilla wouldn’t like her bursting into the backyard all angry like this.  So, as she started forward again, he called out helpfully, “Maybe you should take a few deep breaths and calm down.  Wouldn’t that be a good idea?”

He realized it was a mistake as soon as she turned around again.  Her fists were suddenly clenched, with veins popping out of her forearms and her sleeves tightening around bulging muscle.  “WHAT did you say to me!?!” she hissed, advancing toward him with unbridled fury in her eyes.

“I … I …”  He began backpedaling immediately, but it was already too late.  His daughter reached him and shoved both hands against his chest, sending him plummeting to the ground behind him with a frightful thud.  Disoriented, he watched Chloe stand over him then reach down.  His upper body lurched off the ground as she grabbed the collar of his shirt and lifted, shaking him like a ragdoll as her other hand waved as a fist in front of his eyes.  “You FUCKING PRICK!!!” she bellowed, her hot spittle peppering his face as she bared her teeth at him.  “How DARE you tell me what to do!!  I—“

“CHLOE JEAN LAWRENCE, WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING!???”

Chloe only had enough time to turn her head before her body flew off him in a blur and landed on the grass several feet to his left.  Camilla’s arm had done that with one swift, almost effortless motion, as she stepped over him and closed the distance with her sister, who was wincing in pain from her fall.

“Camilla,” Chloe began shakily, “I—“

“Go home,” her enormous elder sister commanded, pointing to the car.  “I’m not about to discuss this here, with guests nearby!”  She toughened her stance even more as Chloe took her time.  Mark heard the stretching and groaning of fabric as his eldest crossed her arms.  “Are you going to make me count to three??”

Chloe, thoroughly cowed now, walked briskly away with a slight limp, only giving on hurried look back as she got in the car and drove off.

Only when Chloe was out of sight did Camilla turn to him, her hard glare melting into compassionate concern.  “Are you alright?  Are you hurt??”  She quickly knelt beside him and reached out a hand to support his back.

Thought it may seem paradoxical, coming from her, Mark knew her concern was genuine.  “I’m fine,” he informed her, sitting up straight and gazing up at her.  He noticed a couple of the guys and gals peering over the fence at them, but quickly withdrawing again – they didn’t want to pry into family matters.

Camilla frowned, looked back in the direction of Chloe’s car – and when she turned back to him, her expression had changed, in the most peculiar way.  He couldn’t explain what was different, exactly … but in that moment, she seemed to be almost an entirely different person again: a person he hadn’t seen in many weeks.

“What are you going to do with her?” she asked, studying his face and listening intently.

He inhaled slowly.  “Umm … what?”

She scoffed lightly.  “I know how you are!  You’re not one to let us kids off easy for that kind of stuff!”

He drew himself back, eyes widening.  “Wha … What are …”  He blinked repeatedly.

“Is something wrong, Dad?” she asked, tilting her head.

He couldn’t even breathe at this point.  He was beyond speechless now.  She hadn’t called him ‘Dad’ in over a month.  Something had completely, inexplicably changed.

In another instant, this long-lost side of his daughter – deferential, unassuming, respectful – was gone again, replaced by the same quiet, confident air of command he’d come to know since.  “What did I just say?” she asked, genuinely confused, as she regathered her wits.

Mark shook his head, still speechless – but he thought he knew what happened, now.  Maybe.

“Huh.  Strange.”  Camilla shook it off.  “Anyway, I don’t think Chloe will give you any more trouble, after I give her a good talking-to tonight.  Whatever happened between you two just now, I’m sure it was her fault, not yours.”  She stood up, her beautiful, strong face smiling down at him from far above.  “In the meantime … if you are feeling alright, let’s head back to the party, eh?”

Mark quietly took her hand and felt himself suddenly lifted to his feet.  Camilla took three steps before noticing he hadn’t budged from his spot.  She turned and gave him another smile.  “No rush – take your time, dear.  And have a seat in that lawn chair again, if you need.”

With a slow nod from him, she went through the gate and he heard her voice rise to call out to her friends, laughing at some game they had gotten themselves into.  Mark’s heart beat heavily in his chest as he replayed those strange few moments in his mind, and remembered what Phil had told him weeks ago: that there was the slightest chance the virus might not be around forever, that women’s bodies might someday manage to fight it all on their own, reversing this nightmarish scenario.

Maybe it wasn’t entirely nightmarish anymore, but … No, it was still unbearable.  He’d give anything to go back to how things were.  He’d long since given up any hope of that; thoughts like that were too dangerous to hold on to.  But now, perhaps that might change.

The warm, gentle breeze returned; he stared again at the rustling leaves, and the blue sky beyond.  Yes, he thought.  Maybe there’s room for hope, once again.

***THE END***