"Angie Baby A"( fm pett fant caution )[1/2] Section A "Angie! Angie!! Turn that music down!" yelled Dan down the hall towards his daughter's room. The volume dropped by a dozen decibels, which made conversation in the front of the house possible, but he knew the respite would only be temporary. When Angie was in one of her moods, nothing could long keep her from blasting out the music. He and Janice, his wife, exchanged pained looks, knowing each other's thoughts almost perfectly at that moment. Slowly, over the course of years, they had come to realize that their daughter was not fully sane, and there was nothing anybody could do about it. Counsellors had talked and listened until they went practically nuts themselves trying to crack through her shell. Psychiatrists had hemmed and hawed and tried all their neat tricks and puzzles, and failed to penetrate her outer mask. Doctors had poked and prodded and scanned and ran test after test, finally deciding that Angie was, in fact, in perfect health. Everyone agreed, though, that she was just a little strange. Everyone except Angie. She had long since given up trying to have anyone else share what she knew of reality, things she had discovered as a child, things that others knew to be impossible. So she learned to wear a girl-mask, and then a teen-mask, until the day Gary Planchett had cornered her, alone, in an empty room at school. Nobody believed her when she said he was trying to do more than just kiss her, even though she told him no. He was a model student, a member of the school council, and was a top performer in baseball and soccer. He had a girlfriend already, one of the cheerleaders, so he didn't need to force himself on her. But he had, and she had stopped him. Plastic surgery had repaired most of his face, but couldn't fix his damaged eye. Nobody believed her. Her bruises didn't matter to them. She was taken out of school. Angie had no friends there anyway, so she considered it no great hardship. By that time, she believed that she knew everything they were going to teach her. When she wrote tests, she got everything right. Always. The answers were always available to her if she didn't know them already. Nobody ever caught her cheating in a normal manner, and nobody ever believed her when she told them how she cheated, so they called her brilliant, gifted, a prodigy. They also said she was on the wrong side of a certain fine line, speaking as though she wouldn't understand the reference. That was another barrier between her and the normal world, especially between her and anyone in school who might have been brave enough to try and make friends with her. She retreated into songs, music, rock and roll, and the radio. Music had always been there for her, and she had always loved listening to the melodies and the stories. She began to live them. They became her life. Just more proof that she was crazy. ********** You live your life in the songs you hear on the rock & roll radio And when a young girl doesn't have any friends, that's a really nice place to go Folks hopin' you'd turn out cool, but they had to take you outa school You're a little touched you know, Angie baby. ********** Dan and Janice both heaved a sigh of relief when the music suddenly stopped. Silence filled the house, sounding very strange after three hours of songs played at a very high volume. Slowly, other noises came to be heard - the ticking of the kitchen clock, the hum of the refrigerator, the honking and roaring of distant traffic. "Mom, Dad, I'm going out for a walk!" Angie shouted, as she made her way towards the back door. Dan nodded, then watched his little girl stroll through the yard, out the gate, and down the lane. "She looks like a normal fifteen year old," he thought to himself as he stared out the window. "She sounds like a normal fifteen year old too. Why can't she be a normal fifteen year old?" His eyes caught sight of her again part way down the alley. At five foot five, she wasn't terribly tall or terribly short. At ninety-five pounds she was probably a little thin for her height, but she was still blossoming. Her light brown hair was shiny and clean, slightly curled, and was just a little more than shoulder length. It was worn loose, as usual. Green eyes, already looking large in her small, elfin face, were made to seem absolutely huge and luminous with just a touch of makeup. Smiling was a thing she did often, usually because of something in her private little world. Her perfect white teeth, which had never needed braces, were almost all put on display by her generously wide mouth. Lightly tanned skin, a faint, natural blush, and features that were regular and even, combined to create a budding sensuality. Despite her youth and lack of full development, she was proud of her body. Breasts the size of small apples, hips starting to spread, a very narrow waist, long legs, and slender thighs and calves gave her a look of youthful innocence with that hint of wantonness so many older boys and men found attractive. She was becoming beautiful. Another pair of eyes watched her as she walked down the alley. There was no bemusement there, no love, no tenderness. Lust and desire filled them, leaving no room for anything else. Bob, their next door neighbour's son, was staring out of an upstairs window. His thoughts were far from pure. Bob was not a nice guy. He was a senior in high school, got very good grades, was the star quarterback, and had himself a scholarship to a prestigious college. He also collected notches on his belt. Being a tall, good looking blond hunk, well muscled, and a suave, debonair kind of smooth talker, he had a regular string of girls that put out for him. He used them, but they weren't enough. They were too easy. He liked collecting notches. At seventeen, he was both worldly experienced and hardened. There was an extreme lack of normal morality or conscience inside his person. He'd already been into the panties of every loose girl in school. All the girls that weren't so easy, but liked to party, he'd had too. Slipping a Mickey Finn to a girl he wanted was perfectly acceptable, in his eyes. His favourite memories were of the sixteen year old Fawsey twins. Both were out at a senior party for the first time. Both went with dates. Both drank the special rum and cokes he made. Both were virgins when he had them. He left them lying in bed together when they started recovering. Both blamed their dates when they regained their senses. Any girl that was rumoured not to scream when cornered he'd also had. Willingness was not a prerequisite for his conquests. One girl, Stacy, had learned not to bother struggling whenever he wanted her. All she did was cry, turn around, and drop her pants and panties. Neither was age a barrier to his desires. Anything growing breasts was fair game for his lusts, young or old. One fourteen year old girl that he seduced, then raped, was just barely pubescent. By the time he finished playing with her mind, she believed everything was her fault and her idea. She was his willing sex toy, pretending to enjoy his vaginal, oral, and anal attentions. He grew tired of her after two months and gave her to a couple of his football buddies. His thirty-four year old math teacher was his oldest victim. He blackmailed her into having sex with him. He had her at least once a week for an entire school year, and he insisted that it be without any protection whatsoever. She gave birth the following August, then moved away. They never saw or spoke to each other again. Bob was definitely not a nice guy, and he was watching Angie with that same gleam he had when starting his other conquests. He had seen her naked many times, as he stood outside, in the dark, watching through her bedroom window. He believed that she wasn't concerned about being careful, since her window was ten feet above ground level, but he was resourceful. He had watched as her flat breasts swelled out to small handfuls, as her hips changed from vertical to slightly curvy, and as her bottom grew from little girl to rounded woman. His favourite times were when she played sexy or romantic songs. 'Only You' was a song that she danced slow to. 'Girls Just Wanna Have Fun' was one she danced to like a crazy person, her small breasts swinging all over the place. Anything by Dr. Hook had her lying on the bed, hands between her legs, bouncing up and down. Watching her jerk off, seeing her teen breasts rolling around, absorbing all the looks of passion and ecstasy that ran across her face, always had him hard as a rock and jerking himself off right then and there. He always imagined himself in the room, laying on top of her, pumping his seed into her belly, impregnating her with his child. Those were always some of the best climaxes of his life. He even used that fantasy sometimes when he was with one of his normal girls. He liked what he saw, and he had finally decided to take her. A plan had formed. The idea in his head came from overhearing Lyn, his mother, and Janice, her mother, having another of their talks about Angie. "She's definitely a bit touched. Still talks about all kinds of wild things. Things that just never happened." "One day she swore that Meatloaf came to her room and made love to her. She played Paradise by the Dashboard Lights over and over and over again until Dan took the record away from her." "What else?" "How about Jerry Lee Lewis? She told us she went to the movies with him, and they kissed and petted in the dark on the balcony. She said he was circumcised." "You've got a ... very strange girl." Lyn paused for a moment before continuing. "What's her wildest one so far?" "Oh, she claimed that the school's entire soccer team abducted her from the middle of the park and took her to a secluded glade. They then stripped and danced with her for hours, all in the nude. Then they all kissed her on the lips and the nipples and the pussy, got dressed, and took her home. Only when we pressured her did she admit that it was her ghosts doing the deed, not the real team. She's going to drive me batty with her wild fantasies one day." "You poor dear. Here, let me get you some more tea." Bob had his plan. He thought there would be no danger, since nobody would believe anything she said anyway. The next Friday, Dan and Janice left town for the night. Naturally, Lyn, and therefore Bob, knew all about it. Angie, despite her strangeness, had long since proven that she could safely be left on her own. Lyn also went out for the evening, on a date with a guy she was involved with. Those dates usually lasted until the following afternoon. Bob had his opportunity, and his plan. He thought there would be no danger, since nobody would believe anything she said anyway. "Hi, Angie. How'ya doin'?" He watched her face very carefully, seeing what he took to be nervousness, awe, and a touch of fear in her eyes. "Fine," she said. "Can I come in? I forgot my keys at school and I'm waitin' for a friend to bring 'em over. He said he'd be here 'bout ten or so." Bob figured five hours alone with Angie ought to be plenty of time to do anything he wanted, regardless of how she reacted. "I guess. As long as you don't make a mess, and you take off your shoes, and you say please, and you promise to do as you are told." He smiled warmly and with apparent sincerity. "I promise." Bob stood there for a few seconds, looking at her, waiting for her to finish opening the door. Finally, he grew impatient. "Well?" he said, looking at her with his eyebrows raised. "Well?" she replied, with a sour look on her face. After another short pause, he came to realize what she was waiting for. "Please, may I come in?" She smiled brightly, pulling the door wide open for him. When he walked inside, she stopped him with a hand on his chest before he could take two steps. "No, no, no, you naughty boy. What did I just tell you?" It took several more seconds for him to remember what else she had said. Only when his shoes were off did she let him proceed. "Have a seat on the couch. Would you like a drink? Koolaid? Orange juice? Ginger ale? Milk?" "You got anything a little, uh, stronger, maybe?" "Oh, you're one of *those*, are you? Someone who doesn't like the world as it is, who needs the edges removed, the barriers lowered. Here, I'll sneak some of my Dad's vodka. He'll never miss it." She got him his drink - vodka and orange - a double at least, by his estimate, and he watched her face and body as she moved around the bar. His cock got hard, imagining her without the t-shirt and jeans she was wearing. He didn't recognize the music she had playing, but then again, he didn't know or care much about music anyway. The words seemed appropriate, at least to him - "... all in all you're just another brick in the wall." Bob grinned in anticipation, crossing his legs to hide the bulge that was forming. "Aren't you gonna join me? After all, it ain't polite lettin' your guest drink alone." "No, I don't think so. Reality flows and changes enough for me already. I don't need depressants or stimulants to make things even weirder. You'll be drinking enough for both of us. Besides, terrible things could happen if *I* were to lose control!" She laughed, as though what she had said was uproariously funny. Angie sat on the other end of the couch, sipping from a glass of ice water, watching him. Bob was a little nonplussed by her words and actions. They weren't those of any fifteen year old he'd put the make on before. "I guess she is weird," he thought. "This might be too damned easy." "I heard that your folks are gone for the night. Is it for somethin' special?" "Sort of. Dad says it's for business, but I know better. They just want to get away and be *alone* together. Mom doesn't like doing *it* with me in the house. She thinks I'm spooky." He thought hard for a few seconds. "Are you spooky? You seen them doin' *it*? Or do you even know what *it* is?" With a wicked and wanton grin, she replied. "Yes, and yes, and I know all about the birds and the bees and making whoopie." Bob grinned back. "So you know all about it. You've seen and done it all. You're an experienced woman. I got just one question - how many real guys you done it with?" A wistful look chased away her grin. "I've only ever done it with the ghosts and spirits I conjure up. They aren't very satisfying, because they only ever do what I can already do myself. And I have all these dreams ..." "You've ain't never done it for real then. You ever kissed a guy? You ever even had a real climax?" "Kissing. The act of pressing lips on lips. If tongues are exchanged, Frenching is the proper term. Only once, a few years ago, with a boy I didn't like, who forced me to French him. It was disgusting. I've wondered ever since what it would have been like if he had been nice." "Hmmm. Y'know, kissin' someone nice is somethin' you gotta be taught. Then you gotta practice. It's like playin' a piano. Anyone can play with one finger, but you gotta have lots of trainin' and practice to sound like Mozart." That was a line he'd used, successfully, several times before. "Taught. Practice. Piano. Mozart. I wonder if he ever tried playing with his lips. Then again, he being a he, he probably didn't have the right lips to play with!" She laughed again, almost maniacally, at her own words. The young man didn't know what to make of her conversation. "Bob," Angie said, speaking in a soft, little-girl voice, "do you know how to dance really good? Can you teach me?" Her look of innocent pleading prompted a new surge in his manhood. Events were not unfolding in any way, shape, or form like he had envisioned them. The script was being followed, rather loosely, but he felt like his and hers were written by completely different people for completely different plays, and they were only superficially appearing to mesh. His hormones and lust overrode any reservations running through his brain. "Yeah, I could, on one condition." "What? What do you need for dancing?" "I'll teach you to dance, if you'll also let me teach you to kiss. Deal?" Bob had also used 'dancing' and 'the deal' as a seduction ploy a few times. The reality of pressing body to body, with hands free to roam at will, had turned on many of his dates beyond the point of no return. He thought it a fortunate coincidence that she wanted to learn how. "Kiss. You want to dance and ... kiss. Okay. Deal, for now. Wait here. I'll go find the right mood." Ten minutes later, Bob was getting quite antsy and worried. That's when the classic voice of Tom Jones started up. As Angie walked into the living room some few minutes later, he stood to greet the new her, lust and amazement fighting for dominance on his face. Gone were the jeans and white socks. Gone was the t-shirt. Gone was the bra she'd been wearing. A black velvet minidress hung from spaghetti straps crossing her flawless white shoulders. The upper half concealed enough of her breasts to keep her legal, at least in most states. Her chest was revealed right down to the bottom of her breastbone, and the sides of her dress swept down the outside of her body, beginning their rearward journey only when they reached the bottom of her ribs, ending just above the beginning of her bottom, revealing the dimples in the small of her back. The hem sat several inches above mid-thigh. She twirled to show herself off. His eyes kept travelling of their own accord, as they lacked any guidance from his higher brain functions for a moment or two. Black patent heels, sheer charcoal gray nylons, a silver necklace, silver quarter-moon earrings, and one wrist full of bangles completed her apparel. Her hair, which had been down, was done up in a complex braid of some kind, leaving several wisps of light brown hanging in a frame around her face, a face which he couldn't quit staring at. She was beautiful - young, innocent, and vulnerable, like one of those waifs seen in the fashion magazines. Green eyes, large and luminescent, blinked a few times as she watched his reaction. Bob began drooling, in two places, as he envisioned his cock being sucked on by those pale, innocent, lips. His imagination supplied him with several different expressions for her, from wanton lust to outright fear and revulsion. In all cases though, he was buried to the hilt in her throat. He had to shake his head to clear it of the images and toss back the rest of his drink before he could say hello again.