Previously, in The Lolly Anne Conspiracies: Michael never expected to wake up one morning in the body of a preteen blonde girl. Soon after he learned what he was... one of the Lolly Annes; men who, for three days a month, become oversexualized little girls because of a curse. He became close to another Lolly Anne, named Maria, who represented a group called the Alliance, and wanted to protect them from a rival group, the Company, who wanted their hands on "Michaela" before he turned back into Michael. Maria took him to a safehouse and then left him in the hands of two of her friends, Malcolm and Barbara. Which was fine, until gunmen burst in and shot both of them, Michaela escaped the safehouse, but only barely, and they were still after her...

The Lolly Anne Conspiracies (tg, magic, g*, ped*, loli*, viol)

Installment 3: "On The Streets" (additional codes: Mg*, MMg*, interr, oral, light analplay)

(* indicates that the code applies due to the bodies of the people involved... since the story involves magical transgenderism, the minds involved may be very different)


I don't know how far my feet carried me before I started thinking about the important question of where I should be going. I was just concentrating on running, getting as far away as I could as fast as I could. With the sick feeling in my stomach and the relentless pounding of my heart, there wasn't much room in my awareness for anything else.

Finally, my little lungs started to cry out in pain and I stopped, resting my hands on my knees and sucking up as much air as I could, and I had a second, just a second, to worry about which direction my pursuers would be coming from.

I came out the back, but the window I used was too small for the men, the ones that broke in and shot up my new friends, in an apparent effort to snatch me, to squeeze through. Although I was also a grown man, I was in the body of a little girl, and that let me slip through a tighter space just as they burst into the bathroom. So I got away, but only temporarily. They were almost certainly still after me, but they had to circle around the front, and that had given me a little bit of time... just not very much.

I passed a gap between two buildings, in the direction that would put the most distance between me and them, and came out on a street, which I ran across. A car honked at me and its tires squealed, which almost gave me a heart attack but it didn't really come close to hitting me. As I was thanking my lucky stars for not being hit, I realized that it was almost as bad... the honking almost certainly clued my pursuers in on which way I went.

I took my safety between buildings again, darting in and out, trying to turn as often as possible (without circling back somewhere I'd already been). I only backtracked once, and that was when I stepped on to a street and heard a car at the corner making a sudden turn. Sure they'd just seen me, I turned around back into the block I was just on... but I was running out of energy, and didn't think I could outrun a car, so eventually I hopped a short fence into a small backyard. It was risky, hiding, especially so close to where I was seen, but I needed to catch my breath again. Where I was it was dark, but in moonlight I could see a spot that I could crouch and hide in, a spot that could only be seen from the backyard itself, or perhaps inside the house.

I needed to come up with a better plan, but all I could think is "I hope they don't find me" over and over again. A few minutes later, I heard hurried footsteps near my hiding spot. "There's gotta be a million ways she could have gone. Heads are going to roll for fucking up this badly."

I held my breath, sure they might hear even that. They were talking quietly, whispers... excited whispers, but whispers nonetheless. Yet they were close enough for me to hear them, although I lost a few words to sounds of traffic.

Another voice said, "She can't have gotten far."

"So, what, she's tiny, there's dozens of places to hide. Do we spend the whole night searching trash bins?"

"Nah, let's just get back to the car, one of the others are sure to spot her."

"If they don't? I don't want to take the heat for being the last one to lose her."

"Relax. She's on her own, and she can't hide forever. We'll pick her up again, or catch her trying to get to the subway. Or someone will call the cops, and then... she's ours." That was chilling, but I didn't dare shiver for fear I might rattle something. The footsteps retreated back in the direction they came, and the voices quieted.

Even after they were gone, I stayed hiding, sure it was a trick to get me to come out and go in the other direction. Or even if not, they might spot me as soon as I came out of hiding... maybe they were parked within sight of the alley. But whoever it was that said it, he was right. I couldn't hide forever.

I don't even know how long I did hide... I had no watch or cell phone and fear does strange things to your sense of time. What I do know is that when the fear of staying still finally outweighed the fear of staying still, I got up and started moving.

I managed to cross one more street, a hurried, panicked affair, even though no traffic was in evidence. On the other block, I had a narrow gap between buildings that was too small for a car to fit through, and I took that for some degree of safety.

Then I heard voices and froze again.

Second later, I relaxed. They didn't sound like people who were after me, even though I couldn't hear exactly what they were saying. Their tone, though, the cadence of the conversation... that I could make out. They just sounded like a group of friends, joking around. I got closer, but very slowly... I wanted to be sure I saw them before they saw me.

Snatches of conversation started to become clear. "Seriously, though, we should get moving soon."

"Relax, we don't need to get the shit on the streets until tomorrow."

"Yeah, but he'll be pissed if we keep him waiting without a good reason. I've dealt with this supplier before, he's got a temper."

They sounded black... and I don't mean just because what they were talking about sounded pretty shady, just they had that style of voice. Any other time I might have run the other way, but right now I couldn't think of anybody who'd be less likely to call the cops on me. Soon, I realized that the building I was coming across was a little garage, in the middle of the block, access to the main streets through an alley-like laneway that you had to turn onto.

I circled around to the front and looked inside. Sure enough, there were a group of black guys, dressed casually, long shirts, jeans, mostly, one guy in a hoodie. There were four of them in total, one sitting on something at the back of the garage, the other three leaning either against the wall or the car.

The car gave me hope. It was a minivan, tinted windows in the back, thick seats that would be easy to hide behind. It was the perfect kind of vehicle to use to get out of the area. And it sounded like these guys were on their way out anyway. "Yeah, but we have time to stop for some food, right? Drive-thru the Burger King don't take very long." That was the one sitting, not clearly visible from my position. He was facing in my direction, but hadn't noticed me either.

"Shit, you and your Burger King, man... if we're going to eat burgers it's gotta be Five Guys." This guy was tall and skinny, facing away from me.

I found my voice, finally. "Excuse me." I sounded small and very scared, but then, I was.

Conversation stopped as they all looked down at me. As unexpected interruptions go, I guess I was more unexpected than usual, a preteen girl in pajamas and running shoes, hair probably all a mess. If I was my normal self, they might have glowered suspiciously, maybe told me to fuck off, maybe even been polite, but there'd be a response right away, but a kid? They didn't know quite what to make of me, and their faces were just a little confused.

Finally, one of them spoke, the tall skinny one who was leaning up against the car, nearest me. "What you want, girlie?" He wore the hoodie, and his hands were resting in the side pockets.

That was the question. I knew what I wanted, at least one part of it, but I was nervous because I didn't think they'd be likely to give it... the other problem with being a kid is people assume they'll get in trouble around you. If I made the right pitch, maybe I could change that, but I didn't know what to do. Play a brazen underage slut? I already knew I was willing to do almost anything they wanted, sexually speaking, to get what I wanted... and not just that, the warmth between my legs was starting to become noticeable, just from contemplating it, and them. But that might spook them off. So maybe I should try to play the cuteness card? The problem there was, if I was wrong about them being dealers, or even if I was right and they had a heart, they might be worried enough to try and turn me over to my parents or the cops, neither of whom were an option right now. They were still staring at me while I considered it, so I decided to start with the truth, at the most basic level, and then wing it from there. "I need a ride."

"I'll give you something to ride on," one of the guys on the wall. He was probably the most chubby-looking of the group, but even so, he wasn't obese or anything, just a little heavy-set. He had a moustache that trailed down past his lips. He didn't look like he meant it, he was just making a crude joke, but my loins squeezed together in the hopes that it wasn't just a joke. His closest buddy, serious looking, big nose, and serious stubble going on his head (the others all either were bald or had more full coverings), elbowed him in the stomach, though.

"Do we look like a taxi service?" said the one closest to me, the one who first spoke to me. "You look like you should be in bed, girl."

"I just snuck out. And I only need to go a short way. Please?" I opened my eyes as wide as they could go, and thrust out my bottom lip, then repeated. "Please?" Their faces were stony... not buying the puppy dog look, so it was time to go for broke. I put my thumb in the bottom of pajamas, and pulled down, exposing my pussy, bending backwards slightly to thrust it out towards them. "I'll do almost anything."

By this point they had all turned towards me and advanced, and even the one who was sitting before was now off his ass and near the entrance to the garage. "How old are you?" Now that I could see him clearly, I decided he had kind of a weasely look to him, but that might have been the very thin moustache. He was skinny too, like that tall guy, but this guy was shorter and his baggy clothes made him look a little guy trying to look bulky. He was also darker-toned than the others.

"Old enough," I said, biting my lip in what I hoped was a sexy way. "I'm sneaking out to see my boyfriend." The lie came out easily as I thought of it. "But we have an open relationship... and like I said, I really need a ride."

The weasel-looking guy had weaved his way to the front and now tilted his head, looking at me speculatively... my pussy, rather, not me personally. "Go home, kid," said the guy right behind him, but he put a hand up.

"Hold on, let's not be hasty... maybe we could reach an arrangement."

"You're kidding right?"

The one who was interested first, he raised a hand and said, "Excuse us for a second..." The four of them withdrew into the garage a little, and had a conversation. It wasn't exactly private, I could hear much of what they were saying. From what I could tell, weasel-face was all for it. Two were on the fence, and it looked like each was leaning towards the other side of that fence. Chubby guy, who'd made the crude joke about giving me a ride, was leaning towards making the joke a reality, the tall skinny guy leaning towards sending me away. The last, the guy who had the stubbly-head and really large nose, was totally against it. A shame, because aside from the nose, he was probably the best looking, and I bet he had a good body, neither too skinny nor too fat.

"Seriously?" that guy said at one point. "You guys are crazy."

"No, crazy would be turning down an opportunity like this..."

The tall skinny guy looked back towards me. "Shit man, I don't know, she's a little girl."

The chubby former fence-sitter, who must have come off the fence, lightly smacked the doubter's chest with the back of his hand and arm. "We're not forcing her to do nothin', she's offering. It's not like we're corrupting her... somebody else is obviously giving her the cock, and if she wants more, I say give it to her. Hey, ten-to-one I scare her off with my Black Mamba anyway." He grinned back at me, then stepped forward and unzipped. "You ever sucked cock before?" He pulled it out, without any hesitation... Black Mamba was right, it was pretty huge, both in length and girth, and it didn't even look fully erect. Even in the glaze of arousal that being a Lolly Anne provides, it was a little intimidating.

"Plenty," I boasted, but then asked hopefully, "Can we do this on the way, though?" The people after me might stumble upon us at any moment. If they did, I might survive, but I had a feeling they'd kill these guys just to get to me.

The big, black penis just got closer. It dangled at first, then jerked up towards me, although it didn't stand up straight, and maybe it was just naturally limp rather than rigid, it was still the biggest I'd seen, and would do well in porn. Thick, veiny, the head just slightly less dark than the shaft, a nice milk chocolate color. I let myself fall to my knees on the asphalt, and when I did, it was near enough to bump into my lip, so I decided what the hell, and opened my mouth to let it inside. It didn't taste like chocolate... but that's okay, I was growing to like the sweaty-skin taste, and moreover, the feel of something alive and twitching in my mouth. He was bigger than any I'd had before... I couldn't even get close to all the way down, and I didn't try, mostly focusing on slobbering around the head.

I heard a couple of the guys moving around me, getting a better look, and then suddenly I realized that there was another dick in front of me. This one was smaller, darker in color, but hard and happy and I let one cock slip out of my mouth and put the other one in. I looked up and realized, to no surprise, it was the one I thought of as weasely-looking, the one most comfortable with accepting my offer. He was also more comfortable to take in my mouth, and I could go down farther, but I didn't stay on him for long, I kept alternating back and forth, one cock at each side.

Soon it began to seem unfair to leave one completely out, so spit on both of my palms to lube myself up and wrapped one hand on each cock, pumping on whichever black dick wasn't in my mouth. I guess one of the benefits of having been a man is that you instinctively know how to give a handjob... I just moved my hand like I was jacking off, except my cock wasn't in the right place.

They were talking a little, more muttering, complimenting me, but I wasn't really paying attention to what they were saying, I was trying to get them off as quickly as possible... that was another reason I started giving a handjobs at the same time. Sometimes they got close enough at once that I could lick the heads of both of them at once, each glans resting on one side of my tongue, like I was the only thing standing in the way of a swordfight. I kissed both dicks in quick succession, and then went back to sucking on the biggest. I spent some extra time on him this time, getting him coated with so much saliva he glistened in the dim light, and a trail of saliva lingered after I pulled away, took a deep breath, and immediately after that, had the smaller dick shoved into my mouth. He grabbed my head like he really wanted me there and I just complied, picking up steam on the dick in my hand.

That's when he started cumming. He thrust his hips forward to get as deep in me as I'd allow, and I felt the jets spurting down my throat, forcing me to swallow or choke. I swallowed, of course, and swallowed, and swallowed, not even really tasting any of it.

While I guzzled down his cum, I was still jacking off the Black Mamba, and I discovered the one flaw in my theory about how good a handjob I could give. Because it wasn't actually my penis, I didn't actually get all the feedback on exactly how close he was to cumming, so I could slow down and make it last, like I'd do with myself. In this case, that was less of a concern than the other problem with that... without any warning, except a groan that got lost in all the other sensations, he started squirting on me. I felt specks of liquids on my neck and tilted my eyes to see it dribbling out of him and, mostly, onto my pajama top.

I didn't want to stain it and jerked it away reflexively, first in the wrong direction, so a good glob landed just above my collarbone, on a slow slide beneath my top, which I suppose was a little better than on the outside. I immediately corrected and aimed it for the ground, where the remainder started to drip out, runny and viscous.

I also finally got a chance to pull my mouth off the guy who'd gone off inside of me, and took a long overdue breath, then let go of both of them and wiped my mouth with my sleeve. "You got a hanky or something?"

"Here, try this..." Black Mamba withdrew into the garage, dick still hanging out of his pants, and pulled a little scrap of cloth off a bench. He returned with it and started to help wipe it off... the cloth was rough and probably a little grungy in its own right, but at least it got the most obvious cum off of me in a hurry. "There you go, good as new. You might want to keep this handy, though, I don't think we're done yet."

"Guys, that is so wrong..." said the stubbly-headed guy, the one who had seemed most against sexually taking advantage of a preteen girl from the getgo.

"Wrong or not, I'm taking my turn..." said the the tall one in the hoodie. He'd seemed reluctant when I made the first offer, but had watched everything and, I guess, got really turned on, enough to overcome whatever objections he had. "Bend this little bitch over." He started undoing his pants... judging by the bulge revealed, his was almost as big as Mr. Black Mamba.

I was up for it... but we were still out in the open, at least relatively speaking. We couldn't be seen from the main streets, but anybody could walk in on us.

I decided I had to make my stand. "I'm not doing anything else unless we get going." I tried to stand up, but a hand held my arm. My knees were really starting to hurt. Next time I got on my knees to blow somebody, I resolved, I was going to make sure it was on a softer surface. "I'm not going to do all you guys only to have you drive off and leave me here afterwards."

"What?" asked the guy who was ready for his turn, grinning. I noticed now that he had a slight gap in his teeth. "You don't trust us?"

"Please?" I said, trying my little girl look.

"Okay, fine..." He zipped up, then reached into his pockets and tossed his keys to the last guy, the one who was least into the idea of fucking a little girl, the one who now stood with a hand over his mouth looking comically freaked out. I could imagine being in his position, not wanting to do something against a little girl but too paralyzed by shock and peer pressure and perhaps a little arousal to interfere and try to play hero.

He fumbled the catch, and the keys fell to the ground with a tinkling noise, but then he caught himself and fetched them off the pavement. "I still don't think this is a good idea," he said.

The apparent owner of the car helped me to my feet and, with one hand on my shoulder, guided me towards the sliding side door. With one mighty heft he pulled it open, and then pushed me inside. "You worry too much Carl." One name got, at least. "Where do you need to go?"

It took me a second to remember that it was directed at me. I didn't actually have a specific destination in mind, I just needed to get out of the area. I'd promised it wasn't far, but I wanted to stretch it as far as I could. "North," I said mostly on impulse, and then I thought of a subway station and named it. The ones nearby I assumed were being watched, but if I could past their watchers, that would take me anywhere in the city.

"Shit, girl, why don't you just take the subway from up the street?" But the door was closed behind us. One of the two I just sucked off, the one with the huge cock, rode shotgun with Carl, and the dark, weasely one sat in the middle seats as bachelor number three directed me towards the very back seats.

"Don't have a card," I said. "Or change. And the subway smells." I looked towards the front of the car uncertainly. "You promised to take me."

"We'll take you, but why don't you take off your pants, first..."

That seemed like a fair compromise. Now that I was hidden from view by the tinted windows, I had less fear of my pursuers stumbling upon us, and felt better already. So I completely stripped down, not just removing my pants, I felt like being all-the-way naked. As I undressed, I asked, "So, are you guys, like, drug dealers or something?"

"What makes you think that?" said the tall skinny guy beside me, watching my body with a hungriness in his eyes, as he began fumbling with his zipper again.

"I heard you talking about meeting up with supplier and taking it to the streets."

He laughed a little. "Nah, it's a marketing thing. I do work for a promotional company now and then. You ever heard of a pop-up shop?" I looked at him blankly, though I thought I knew what it is. "Company hired us to take a load of their designer shit tonight and some advertising and set up a store on the street for like, one day. At the end of the day, the store's gone. This is just for some extra cash, we're all students." College, I guess, but I thought they were older than even that. "Keith over there occasionally sells some weed or Ritalin to friends, but he ain't a professional."

Another name. Keith, the dark, thin-mustached, less-endowed guy in the row right in front of us, looked back. No wonder I thought he look shifty. "Why, you interested in some? I'm tapped out right now, but if you wanted to ditch the boyfriend you're seeing tonight, suck a few more cocks for me, I can ditch this job and take you to some guys with some good shit..."

I was going to decline the offer, but the guy beside me, said, "Shit, dude, don't try to get her into that."

The guy riding shotgun, the chubby one with Black Mamba, said, "Yeah, I know you always wanted to be a pimp, but don't start with the kids."

"Hey, I just know talent when I see it." He pointed at the guy beside me, who'd begun stroking my leg with his huge hands. The fingers were rough, but the caress itself was surprisingly gentle, and comfortably warm. "You haven't had her yet, but you'll see. She sucks a mean cock."

"I do require that in a girl."

I couldn't help but smile. "Does that mean you have a mean cock?"

He grinned. "Nah, it just looks mean, but it'll treat you right." His zipper was down already, and he'd been speaking with a big bulge of underwear that was attracting a lot of my attention, and at this point, he finally pulled it out. It was big, thick, uncircumcised, although the foreskin retracted quickly as it expanded to its full length and revealed a bright light purplish head, unlike the dark brown-colored one of his friends, which was certainly impressive. However, it wasn't the biggest of the group, so far that honor belonged to the guy riding shotgun, who's cum was still on my chest. "Why don't you come sit on my lap a bit?" I was pretty eager to do just that, but looked over towards the front of the vehicle, towards the driver. He took the hint. "Carl, let's get rolling, we promised the girl a ride."

Once we were in motion, I crawled over this guy, straddling him, and he lifted me up to rest up above his dick, on his chest a little, so we were face to face, close enough to kiss, if we wanted to, although he didn't press that. I could smell his breath, which was a little sour, but didn't bother me... my body was much more aroused by his touch, which was quickly becoming less tentative and more forceful. His actions escalated quickly and pretty soon he was sucking on one of my nipples, a sensation that got me dripping wet. I never thought that something so simple would feel so good, not as good as somebody playing with my pussy, but still incredible... feeling them stiffen up, his lips compressing the flesh around. I whimpered softly in pleasure and he pulled away to mutter, "I'm going to fuck you so good..."


His rough hands squeezed my ass like he was modeling clay, and my butt muscles strained against them. One long finger went in between my ass-cheeks, and approached my asshole. I took an involuntary breath as it touched the little wrinkled bud, and then forced its way inside. "Fuck, you've got a tight ass, too... maybe I should try that."

I winced... not from pain, or at least, not all from pain. It didn't hurt very much, although it was a little uncomfortable, it also felt surprisingly nice. But there was fear there, fear of being hurt if anything bigger went in, and fear of liking it. Stories from earlier that night about guys who found they still loved anal sex after they'd changed back and became fully gay... I didn't want that, or at least, I didn't think I did. Something about that total submission spoke to me, but I retreated from that voice. "No," I said. But the truth was, I did want to try it, at least as a girl... if not for another worry, the reminder, that this was my first night as a girl. Maria recommended I avoid anal, because if something got damaged, I'd be stuck with that damage every time I turned back.

And I knew this guy's cock was much much thicker than his finger, a finger that already felt like it was too big for comfort. "What, you said you'd do anything..." he said teasingly, pulling his finger slightly out and then pushing it deeper... I could swear I felt a knuckle. "You never done anal before?"

"No," I said again. I wanted him out, and I wanted him in at the same time, but the mental image of something tearing made the fear win out over the desire. "I'm saving it," I said quickly. "For my boyfriend. Anything but that, okay?" I looked into his eyes, making my own as wide as I could, and then upped the ante. "Once he's broken me in I'll come back and let you, I just don't want you stretching me out before then, he's nowhere as big as you." A promise I'd never have to keep, I could just avoid the area when I was a girl next... but if I wanted to keep it, I could take some numbers and come back next month. Then, according to the other Lolly Annes, I'd have nothing to worry about with anal except the lingering worry that it might turn me gay. Pain might still be a worry, it would also be temporary... even if somebody stabbed me and fucked the hole, I'd only have to worry about it until I turned back into Michael. The next time I became Michaela, the injury would be gone.

I must have flattered his ego with the remark about being stretched out, because the finger retreated as, with a chuckle, he agreed, "Fair enough. We'll do it the old fashioned way." He lifted me upwards, my legs sliding up his midsection, and his cock sprang forward a little, bouncing up against my slit, giving me a little shiver of pure pleasure. "Man, you're wet girl..."

That's because I wanted it. "Go on, fuck me."

"What are you doing? You crazy, Keith? Don't film that..."

I looked back over my shoulder. Keith, the wannabe pimp who'd cum down my throat, was holding a smartphone and, apparently, filming us. Surprisingly, I didn't mind. Neither did the guy I was fucking. It was Carl, the driver, who was complaining. "Oh come on, I gotta get some video of this chick..."

"You want to get yourself arrested for child porn is what you want," Carl muttered.

"Nobody else's going to see it. Besides, she looks eighteen to me."

"Yeah, I'm totally over eighteen," I said, playing along, but in some ways spoke the absolute truth. I squirmed my pussy back over the head of his cock, settling it down, hoping to give him a good show... I don't know why it turned me on, I guess I didn't really think of it as my body, just one that I borrowed. Besides, the camera wasn't focused on my face, just my ass and pussy, with a huge black cock worming its way inside.

It just barely thin enough to fit inside without damaging myself, I think. Since then, I've kind of used the memory of that cock as my basis... any dick bigger than that, it's going to hurt. Actually, his cock did hurt, it just hurt at the level where, when you're turned on, it doesn't really detract from the pleasure, but rather heightens it. Nothing tore, but I was stretched to my limit. I'm sure the video Keith was filming got a good shot of my cunt sucking it for all its worth even as I pulled up. I couldn't go all the way down, but I went as far as I could before it hurt too much. "Fuck, this bitch is so tight," the guy said. "I can't..."

I felt it, then... it was like his cock started shaking, and then he was shooting inside me, although I didn't feel that part as strongly as I had with Colin earlier that day. I watched his face as his eyes closed and lips opened, even though his teeth were clenched. And then I did started to feel his cum, only it was sliding out of me. "That's it?" I asked in some surprise.

The unnamed chubby guy riding shotgun cracked up. "Fuck we got a real minute man here."

He finally opened his eyes and muttered, "Shut up..."

"Even a little girl knows you should last longer than that, man."

"It's been a while since Tisha left. Give me a second to recover and I'll rock your world..."

I was disappointed, but the only other man I hadn't gotten off was driving, so I hoped he was telling the truth. I let him slide out of me and I rolled to the other seat, then stepped on the floor and bent down to suck his messy, cum-covered cock into my mouth. He was still surprisingly hard... not as big as he was before, but maybe if I just worked it right he wouldn't lose it...

Sure enough, he may not have lasted very long, but it didn't take him long to stiffen up again. The guys were cheering me on as I went to town on him. In a few seconds cock was clean except for a little froth around the base, and less than a minute after that, it was standing upright, and I could see Keith was still recording it. Now my face was on it for sure, so I just hoped they had the sense to keep it amongst themselves, I didn't want to be on the Internet.

I'd been vaguely aware that there was a whine building up in the distance, and now I realized what it was... I could hear sirens, and they were getting close. Flashes of red light strobed across my field of view. "Fuck, there's a lot of cops," grumbled Keith.

"Fucking hell, I knew it, there's probably an Amber alert out on this girl or something... if they catch us we're fucked." That was the guy riding shotgun.

I pulled my mouth off the cock, which was starting to deflate again, maybe from fear of getting caught, and said, "There's no Amber alert." Though I wasn't sure, it was possible whoever was after me put one out. It was a good plan, really, if they wanted to get their hands on me and they had a connection on the police. But I still figured, if anything, those cops were responding to the house I'd left behind, where Malcolm and Barbara and the guards outside were murdered.

"Shit," said Carl, staring straight ahead. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. I told you this was a bad idea. I told you."

The guy I'd just fucked sounded pretty chill about it. "Relax, nobody knows we got her, and it's not like they can see her." His hand on my head assured that I wouldn't be getting up and visible through the window. "We can just drop her off as soon as they pass."

"Yeah, yeah, that's right," agreed Keith, leaning over to look at me. "You're not going to tell, right?" I shook my head. "Put your clothes back on, girl." I decided that was a good idea, slid out from beneath the hand, and began dressing, right on the floor of the car, between the seats. Meanwhile, Carl turned at the next intersection and began looking around for a place to drop me off.

I guess he was worried that he'd be seen on any main street, because he finally pulled into an alley. The tall guy said, "Here, this wasn't exactly where you wanted to go, but it's only a few blocks away."

Great, on my own again. "You can't just leave me here," I said. "You gotta give me some cash, or a phone call or something. Let me use your phone." I reached out for it, but Keith pulled it away and stuffed it in his pocket.

"I'm sure you'll get along," said the guy I'd been fucking as he hauled open the door. "Don't worry." Keith reached over and grabbed my arm, and jerked me towards the door. That's when the other guy helped, and pretty soon I was on my way out onto the streets again. I tried to resist, but that's one of the problems with being a kid, you're small and light, and if a couple of big guys want to toss you around like a piece of luggage, they pretty much can.

Right before my body passed through the doors, I managed to get my hand on the edge of a window and held on with all my might. "No, I'm not going anywhere until you give me some money."

"No, you stupid fucking whore," the guy I'd just fucked spat out, dropping the nice act completely... and I guess technically they were right about the whore part, except I would have done it for free... I just needed money now. At any cost.

My eyes flared as I realized the power I had, even as they overpowered me physically. "You give me money right now or I scream rape." It was a dirty trick, and under the circumstances, they could have reacted poorly... covered my mouth, even killed me, but they were scared already.

It was Keith who finally reached for his wallet, grabbed some bills, and threw them in my direction. I thought I saw a ten which was good enough to get me started, and as most of the bills spilled out onto the street, I let go and stepped out, losing my balance for a second. That second was all they needed to grab the door from the inside and slam it shut again.

I stepped backwards as the car lurched back into motion, so fast that I practically imagined tires squealing, although I don't think it actually made any noise. Then, I bent down to collect my money... realizing with some frustration that some of the money must have drifted on the floor of the car instead of outside with me. All I could find was three paltry dollar bills. I collected them diligently and tucked them into my shoe and made my way towards the mouth of the alley.

Keeping my body hidden behind some trash I checked the street in front of me. It was one of those streets full of a variety of businesses with apartments on top. Not especially comforting, but I had to do something... there had to be a better option out there than hiding in this alley all night. Especially because I was still horny and unsatisfied from my hitchhiking adventure, and that condition would only get worse, not better.

Most of the stores were closed, and the truth was, I wasn't sure I should try my luck with the ones that were open, either. What's a store owner going to do when a little girl in pajamas, cum-stained pajamas for that matter, comes in after dark? Call the police? Yet I spotted one beacon of hope. I waited for a pedestrian to pass so she wouldn't see me, and then crossed the street, taking a glance at exactly which street I was on, and hustled my ass to the place I saw. After a quick check through the window, both for safety and to get the exact address, I carefully opened the door and stepped inside.

It was possibly the shittiest all-night coin laundry you could imagine still being in business in the area. There was a rack of TVs up, old ones, not flat screens, bolted to the ceiling, although only one seemed to be on, playing a rerun of Two and a Half Men, but there didn't seem to be sound. The place was dingy with crappy lime-green paint and fluorescent lights, and the only person inside seemed to be fast asleep on one of the sorting tables. He didn't even stir at the sound of my opening the door.

It was perfect. At least, for now, and largely because of the two payphones in the back. Calling 911 or the police was problematic... that guy said if the police got me, I'd be "theirs," and I had no reason to doubt it. After all, when my girlfriend called them this morning (was it only this morning?) to report a little girl in my apartment, both sides sent people after me. So the people who killed Malcolm and Barbara almost certainly had some inside line on the police, and they were already in the area hunting for me. No, calling the cops was probably just as good as giving myself up to them. But I knew Maria's phone number... actually, I remembered the way the numbers related to each other, and from that I could derive it... but that was just as good. I could call her. I could trust her, I was sure of it.

But even if I was wrong, it was really the only thing I could think of to do. It was call her, or spend the night on my own, and that prospect terrified me.

The guy on the table gave me a little bit of concern... I figured he was homeless, but I might have been a bit hasty. Maybe he just took a nap while waiting for his laundry to finish. Or maybe he was supposed to be in the booth but he was sleeping on the job. But he was white with a kind of bushy beard, and looked skinny and was wearing what looked like an army surplus jacket that was a little too warm for the weather, at least, for walking around in the day. For sleeping outside at night, or on a cold table, it was probably comfortable enough. So homeless was my best guess.

He didn't smell particularly bad, but maybe he'd taken advantage of the facilities and rubbed soap on himself or something, and anyway, I didn't get close enough for a good whiff... I just passed by him on tip toes to see that he was actually asleep, not just lying there with his eyes closed. His mouth hung open and his breathing was slow and a bit nasally, like he was on the edge of what you'd call a snorer.

I next went to the phone, made sure it worked, and then walked over to the change machine. The dollar was rejected two times before it finally got sucked into the machine, and then I flinched at the clatter made when the coins dropped. The homeless guy's legs shifted a little, but he didn't seem to get up and notice me.

Now came the moment of truth... had I actually gotten the numbers right, or did I screw up somewhere? I went over it again in my head, and they seemed right, but that just meant that if I was wrong, I was wrong at some fundamental level that I'd be unable to fix. I slipped the coins into the slot, listened to the machine take them up, and then dialed.

It rang twice, and was starting a third, and I was fidgeting like mad, certain it was about to go to voice mail and I'd be left once again without any direction, but finally, the ring cut off and I heard a tired, girly voice saying, "Hello?"

"Maria?" I whispered hopefully. "It's Michaela."

There was a pause, and a deep exhalation that sounded like annoyance. "Look, I know I said you could call me, but I'm just about ready for sleep and..."

"Barbara's dead. Malcolm too." I'd kept it together so far, but now, actually being able to say it, my voice cracked, and tears started streaming down my face. Not just tears, I could feel my nose running as well. "Somebody burst in... they were after me. I got away, but..." I rubbed my face with the sleeve of my pajamas.

Maria sounded instantly more alert, and concerned. "Are you okay? Where are you now?"

"I'm in a coin laundry."

"Are you safe?"

"I think so. There's a homeless guy here, but he's sleeping." I checked over again to be sure. Yes, he still seemed to be sleeping.

"Where is it?" I read off the address. "Okay, stay there, I'll send somebody to..." Just as I was about to interrupt with a request that she not send somebody at all, Maria swore. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. I don't know who I can send, I'll have to come get you myself." I breathed out softly in relief. "I might be a little while, probably not more than an hour. Do you think you can stay there? Is it safe?"

I didn't know what the word meant anymore. But I hadn't seen any sign of pursuit for a while. I might risk cops. I might risk rape, or at least a rapist... but maybe it would turn out to be consensual. "Yes... I think so."

"I'll have my phone with me, so if you can't, call me again and let me know, okay?"


"See you soon. Bye."

And it was over. When I was talking to her, it felt like I wasn't alone, but now I was, except for a sleeping man. At least now I just had to wait.

It was a hell of a wait. I tried to watch TV, but without sound, it's hard to stay focused... I found myself craving one of those news channels that scrolls information at the bottom of the screen. At least then I'd have something to read.

When I couldn't take silent sitcoms anymore, I paced back and forth around the area of the laundry farthest from my sleeping companion, reading anything... laundry instructions, change machine signs, even a religious tract pamphlet somebody had left. My soul wasn't saved, but it killed some time.

I tried the bathroom at one point, and it was totally disgusting. It must have been a week since somebody cleaned it. But I really had to go, so I squatted over the bowl and let it dribble. It was harder than I thought. I thought girls were supposed to be cleaner in the bathroom, but I think I got more pee on the floor than I've ever done as a guy (at least, while I was sober).

I went back to TV watching after that, but I began watching the homeless guy, because he would occasionally change position slightly and make me worried he was going to wake up. What would I do if he did? I played with the thought a little, trying to come up with cover stories for why I might be there, but in the end, it always seemed to come down to three options. Either he wouldn't care, being too wrapped up in his own demons to worry about me, I'd have to run, or I'd have to offer myself to him sexually.

The last thought appealed to me most, of course, and although it shouldn't have surprised me given what had already happened that day, it did... I was such a depraved little slut that I was getting turned on by the thought of him, from his perspective, forcing himself on me. Even more than that, for a few minutes I was seriously considering going up to him, unzipping his pants, and seeing if I could get a look at his cock. Maybe I could even suck him off without waking him.

It was incredibly perverted, and I shuddered as I thought about how it would probably be disgusting and smelly, but the fantasy in my head didn't come with smells, just sights and the feel of a warm pulsating thing inside me. I hadn't gotten off with the black guys, and although I'd been hornier that day, it was starting to get distracting again.

I stepped back into the bathroom for a couple minutes before I started masturbating, getting myself too worked up. The bad smell came in handy there, at least. It didn't quench the fires, but it quieted them.

For most of the rest of the time I paced, as boredom and even arousal gave way to fear. It was taking too long. I became sure that somehow the people who were hunting me earlier would find me. I trusted Maria, but for all I knew they had a tap on her phone. When I finally saw Maria open the door, I almost panicked, because I didn't recognize her.

At least, I didn't recognize her right away. She was still the same girl, she hadn't turned back into a man or anything, like I knew was supposed to be coming, sometime tonight in fact, but she looked a lot different than she had the last time I saw her. To start with, her clothes were different. She wore dumpy jeans and a long t-shirt. Her hair was also loose and wild, even a little frizzy, not in the braid I remembered. So at first I thought it might be somebody else. But when she turned to look directly at me and I saw those green eyes, and high cheekbones, and, most distinctively, a little bandage under her eye, I knew it was her, and I let out a breath.

I ran over to hug her, somehow feeling all the tension and anxiety at once again as it flowed out of me. She embraced me, a little awkwardly, and I felt a hard-edged lump on her hip that must have been her gun, but I didn't care. I bawled, "I'm so glad to see you, I was so scared."

"It's okay," she said. "I'm here."

There was a throat-clearing sound, and the two of us whipped our heads towards the third person in the laundry. He wasn't awake, at least not obviously so, it was one of those sounds people make that make you think they might wake up any second. I went still, hoping that not moving would make him drift safely back to a deeper sleep.

Maria took the other route. She let go of me, and walked right up to the table, and poked him in the shoulder with two fingers. He didn't move, so she did it again. Finally, he gave what looked like an all-over shudder, and spun on his side facing her. I thought he might strike her, but the moment he'd moved, she had deftly stepped back outside of the range of his arms.

The man stared at her for a moment, presumably wondering if she was real or a dream, and then looked around wildly, although he didn't look directly at me. "My dad says he's going to call the cops as soon as he's out of the bathroom," Maria warned him, looking significantly towards the back. He looked, then locked eyes on her, and she stared him down, but then finally reached into her pocked and pulled out a crumpled twenty. "Buy yourself some booze or something, but do it somewhere else."

He continued to stare at her for a few seconds, but then grabbed the money, pulled himself to a seating position, took a deep breath, and slid off. He looked back at me as he grabbed his worn bag, then to Maria again, and headed towards the door, muttering, "Fucking kids."

The door slammed shut behind him, but finally we were alone. Maria looked me over like a worried mother, checking for cuts and bruises. "What happened?"

I relayed the story, how the men came through the door with guns, how they shot Barbara first, how Malcolm tried to save me, and escaping through the window. I even told her about the guys I hitched a ride with, although I didn't try to make it salacious or sexy as I otherwise might... the memories, the fact that two people I was starting to like were now dead, they didn't lend themselves to that mood. I was starting to tear up again.

She wiped away my tears with her shirt, and had me sit down, and then her phone rang. She held up one finger to her lips, and I nodded, doing my best to not make a sound, even breathing. "Hello. Any news?" She listened for a while, and then frowned. "Damn." Another pause. "That's good news at least. Set up a guard, just in case. What about Michaela?" She took a deep breath, exhaling through her mouth, and then grunted in frustration, followed by a loud swear. "Fuck! I guess we have to assume they have her... keep looking, though, you never know. She's surprised me so far." She caught my eye, and added, "More resourceful than I'd expect." I beamed with pride. "I really need to crash so I can transform. First thing tomorrow we start figuring out how the fuck the fucking Company learned about our fucking safehouse. I hope somebody just screwed up, because if we've got a traitor, heads are going to roll." I remembered somebody else using that phrase that night, and I had a panicked moment where I wondered if there was a connection, before I calmed down and realized it was just a coincidence. It was a common enough saying. Michaela sighed. "Samuel's in charge until I wake up." She ended the call, and then started making another. "Good news. Barbara's alive."

I was so stunned I couldn't even smile. I hadn't even considered that as an option, and it just seemed so out there that it seemed just as plausible that it was some kind of sick joke. "She is?"

"Yeah. If she survives the next few days, she'll be good as new." That seemed not just implausible but impossible. She might have survived, the initial moment was too much of a blur, but even if she did survive, she'd be in a hospital, maybe a wheelchair the rest of her life. Then I remembered again what Barbara herself had told me... she just had to turn back into a male. The next time she became Barbara, the wounds would be magically healed. "What about Malcolm?"

Maria's face was grim. "Dead. So were the guards posted outside. Whoever did this was thorough."

"You think... you think they'll try to finish the job with Barbara?"

"Honestly, no. They were after you. There's no reason to go after Barbara now, unless there was a chance she recognized the attackers, and even then... it's pretty public. It's one thing to murder a bunch of people in a hidden little safehouse in a bad neighborhood... it's another to kill a little girl in a hospital. There are cops there already, since they think she's the only surviving witness." Maria wrinkled her forehead in thought. "That's going to make Richard's extraction difficult, but nothing we haven't done before."

"Who are you calling?"

"Adam," she said. "I've been trying to reach him since you called. I need another place to take you."

"You're not worried he's the leak?"

"If Adam's the leak, I might as well drop you off to the Company myself. Right now he is literally the only one I still trust one hundred percent." I wasn't so sure, but I was willing to trust Maria that much. She hung up. Apparently Adam didn't answer. "I just wish he'd answer his fucking phone."

Maybe he's dead, I thought. They'd said the Company had made attempts on his life before. Maybe tonight was all part of a big coordinated move on their part. But I didn't say it out loud. "So what do we do now?" is what I did say.

Maria sighed in frustration. "If I wasn't a girl I could set something up, but as it is... for tonight, I don't think I have any other choice." I waited, my whole life seeming to hang on the moment. "I'm going to take you to my place."

"That sounds like it might be okay," I said, doing my best to downplay my reaction. The truth was, I now felt that incredible urge to smile widely, the urge I should have felt when I heard Barbara was alive. I wanted to beam, even after everything that happened... not because I wanted to check out her place or anything like that, but just in relief because it not only sounded like it was safe, but also like a guarantee she wasn't going to just leave me like she had before.

Maria nodded, as though to herself, and then started to the door. She held the door for me on the way out, but after that I had to let her get in front of me to lead the way. We walked along the sidewalk, boldly, openly, and there were people on it up ahead, I was starting to get a little worried. "Where are we going?" I asked after we'd passed a few stores.

She pointed. "My car." It was a dark blue Chevy Malibu, and although the lights weren't on inside, I could see that there was somebody in the driver's seat.

"Who's that?" I asked nervously, unwilling to trust anybody new. As we got closer, I could see that it was a woman. She had black hair, cut short, and it was hard to judge her age in the poor light, but she was definitely an adult, not a Lolly Anne. Maybe in her twenties or thirties.

Maria looked back at me, no expression on her face, and then pulled open the door and said words that, for some irrational reason, made my heart sink. "That's my wife."

End of Installment #3
Next Time: "Sleepover"

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