by Rena Marks
The Beulah Ball-Breaker? Horrors. Shock widened Marcie’s eyes ‘til they felt like they’d pop from her head. “No!”
He nodded solemnly. “I’m pretty sure.”
“But…why? Just why?”
He shrugged. “I think perhaps his eyesight fails. Because I do not think it is much of her personality.”
A giggle erupted from her. She’d forgotten how easily Bajoc could make her laugh.
He smiled also but then sobered as he stared at her lips. “Marcie,” he said thickly. His eyes focused on her, and very slowly his head moved to hers, blocking out the sun. She lifted her head, her lips parted and her tongue darted out to wet them…
“There you all are,” the Supreme Commander said jovially.
Pariah held onto his arm, her square handbag dangling between them.
Bajoc groaned. To their left, Marcie heard a groan from Tristan also as Lara slapped him away.
“There is my little Marcie,” Kriekjan said to Pariah, as if they were fast friends. “She is the one who gave birth to the fuzzy headed sweet one. And this is Lara. She birthed the strong Hagan, also known as Bubba.”
“Good morning,” Marcie said. “Let me grab the other ladies, and I’ll introduce you to everyone, Pariah.”
“Oh, are you feeding?” Commander Kriekjan asked. “I see the dandelion is enjoying her milk.”
“Um, yes. Ladies!” Marcie was aware her voice raised a few octaves, but she wanted the focus off her boob. Everyone else ignored when the babies fed, but Commander Kriekjan seemed enamored. He watched unabashedly.
“What’s up?” Anita called, coming down the back step. One by one, the other ladies followed, standing around.
“Everyone, this is Pariah. She’s the head of the Quakers.”
Pariah turned, and the ladies gasped in unison. Their eyes were glued to her forehead, and they didn’t even try to hide it. Then, there was no other sound. Not a splash in the pool, not a chirp of a bird…not one sound.
“She is stunning, is she not?” Commander’s voice was syrupy. Unfortunately, it was also honest.
Pariah positively preened. “Don’t you think you can suck up to me, Lennard. Just because I walk with the Lord doesn’t mean I’m ripe for the pickin’. I had plenty of sexual fulfillment during my six year affair with a high-ranking officer on Quakestrarian. I’m still doing penance to this day by taking whore’s baths.”
Commander Kriekjan blinked and then stared at her with goofy, half-lidded eyes. “I looove how you own up to your sins.”
“I’m a sinner of the flesh, that’s for sure.” She sighed. “I fight my wicked urges daily.”
“Uh, when Marcie hooked up with Bajoc, we insisted she take whore’s baths, too,” Anita said.
“Then again, after hearing the details, the rest of us jumped on board, and the whore’s baths were no longer necessary.” Jannie snickered.
“Oh, good.” Pariah leaned in, missing the point entirely. “Marcie, perhaps you can help me teach the other Puritans how to ready themselves and behave for the party. There was never anything like it on our planet, and I’d like them to live just a little.” Her voice was wistful. “Since I won’t ever be able to.”
“There’s no reason why you can’t live it up now, Pariah, my saint,” Kriekjan said. “In fact, the warriors can watch the precious ones. The nutlings are all fed, correct? You females can all get together on my ship and prepare those sweet, innocent Puritans.”
“What a great idea,” Lara said, buttoning up her blouse and handing Hagan to Tristan to burp. “Come, ladies.”
Marcie sighed and handed her sweet Lily over to Bajoc.
The other curious women followed Pariah to the Supreme Commander’s ship. As soon as they entered, Pariah cleared her throat.
“Sisters!” Pariah yelled out in her shrill voice. Footsteps scuttled hurriedly, like an infestation of rats scurrying across the floor. The door burst open and five women tripped in, falling over each other.
“Get your bony arms and legs off me!” Yelled the one on the bottom. She was the only other one with the unibrow. Marcie had already forgotten her name, but she was the one who tattled everything to Pariah.
Everyone was silent as the women scrambled up, smoothing their skirts. Pariah acted as if nothing was wrong.
“This is Wilma Ann,” she said.
Wilma’s unibrow raised and lowered as she said, “How do you do?” She didn’t look like she really cared, instead she continued to glare at the other four women.
The best way to describe Wilma Ann was pointy and sharp. She was thin, with a long face and a pointy chin. A pointy nose. Thin lips, and from where they poked out of her drab, gray dress, thin wrists. She was pasty white with a large roll of unibrow.
The other four didn’t have unibrows.
“This is Sisters Molli, Joy, Virginia and Beatrice.”
Molli was a sweet looking woman, with dark curls and creamy skin. Her lips and cheeks were the same shade of soft pink. Virginia was a buttery blond, her hair long and straight. Long lashes framed her aqua eyes, and a beauty mark dotted her cheek, emphasizing her full, sexy lips. Beatrice had thick brown hair and dark eyes, and a natural peaches-and-cream complexion many would fight for. Joy was a happy strawberry blond with a smattering of light freckles across the bridge of her nose and cheeks.
“Oh, oh,” Anita whispered. “We’re in trouble.”
“They’ll look different with a unibrow,” someone else whispered. “Look at the first two.”
“Yes,” Pariah said. “The unibrow follows in many shapes. Some have a roll of long hairs, some hairs are short and curly, others are thick and coarse. Some grow in a triangular shape, others are shaped like a landing strip.”
The teachers were quiet, many with their mouths hanging open.
“Did she just describe pubes?” Anita whispered.
“Are we really going to have a ball?” Joy asked, eagerness in her face. “I looked up the meaning. We get dressed up in finery and have food and drink available, and will dance. I would love to learn to dance. It sounds like grand fun.”
“Fun?” Pariah asked, her voice sharp. “You are happy? Can you feel your bush growing yet?”
Joy blinked. “I don’t think so. Whatever does it feel like?”
Pariah sighed. “You would know when you felt it.”
Wilma grunted. “Hmmph. I thought perhaps we could skip this silly ball if they were happy enough that the brow grew in. Then we could just go home.”
“Oh, but I don’t want to go home,” Virginia said. “I want to experience the cultures of other planets. See their balls.”
“Sister, please.” Pariah crossed herself. “So sayeth the Shepherd.”
The others all followed the sign of the cross. “So sayeth the Flock.”
Marcie turned to Molli, who looked like the sweetest one of the bunch. “May we seeyeth—I mean see—the clothes you brought?”
“Of course,” Molli said, eyes wide. She took her to a back room where six small beds were laid out in a row, each one perfectly made so tightly one could bounce a quarter off of it. Lara, Jannie, Anita, and the other Puritans filed in behind them.
She opened the closet doors. The only colors contained inside were black, brown, and dark gray.
“This is our summer wear,” Molli said, fingering the steel gray.
Marcie felt her eyes widen as she looked at the clothing.
“First thing, let’s get rid of these thick, woolen gowns. My word, how do you ladies move?”
The four younger women looked blank.
“Um, girls?” Marcie said, calling out to the humans in the other room. “Anyone have any extra skirts we can replicate?”
Anita marched to the front door and bellowed out for Tomlak. He came running from the schoolyard, with Trince in tow.
“Sweetie, will you go to mummy’s closet and get her yellow skirt? Bring it here as fast as you can.”
“I’m not supposed to look in your closet
. Remember there was that one thing that was making that weird buzzing noise in the box?”
Anita sounded strangled. “Just look straight ahead for the skirt only and bring it here, okay?”
“Trince, will you grab my mint-green skirt, too?” Marcie asked.
“And then run across the street and get my blue one,” Lara said. “Oh, and the dark pink. That should give us enough variety to know what styles will look good, and then we can replicate them.”
The two boys looked weighed down by taffeta cotton candy when they returned, the fluff completely covering their heads.
Marcie giggled when she unburied Trince, taking the two long skirts from him. She shoved them at Molli and Joy, trying her hardest not to deal with Virginia. The gorgeous, home-wrecking whore.
“Here try these on.”
Lara took the skirts from Tomlak, and handed those to Virginia and Beatrice.
“Thanks, sweeties,” Anita said, kissing both boys on top of their heads. “Go play unless we scream for you again.”
From behind the dressing screens—where one could only see the shadows of their outlines—the Puritans pranced about. The softer fabric of the gowns swished as they walked.
“Ooh, it feels so odd,” Beatrice said. “I’ve never felt anything like it. It’s practically…a cloud.”
“It feels divine,” Virginia moaned. “So sultry as it swirls around my bare legs.”
“Um, those ain’t bare,” Anita said, squatting down. “I can practically see the hair on your legs though the skirt.”
“We’re going to have to show them personal grooming,” Marcie murmured.
“You look like tools of the devil,” Wilma snapped.
“Hmmph,” Pariah said. “I’m not wearing one of those. I have to beat off Lennard as it is. A strong breeze comes, swishing up that flimsy fabric, and everyone gets a freebie.”
“Freebie? I’d pay to see that.” Anita elbowed Marcie.
But when the faces of the Puritans fell, Marcie looked pointedly at Pariah. A look of resignation came over her features.
“Well, perhaps a darker color. But not red. I don’t need to drive Lennard crazy with lust with the reminder of my early days.”
“I refuse!” Wilma stuttered.
“You will not!” Pariah threatened. “I’m sure we can find you a more modest cut.”
“Oh, speaking of which,” Marcie eyed Raine. “Slut, take off that halter. We need it.”
She didn’t mean now, but that’s exactly what happened. Raine gave her a huge grin, and then pulled it off over her head, her loose breasts falling out.
Wilma screamed unholy murder, her hand flying up over her forehead. Pariah covered the eyes of the four Puritans with her forearms, like a mother protecting her children while braking inside a car.
Chapter Five
Lara sighed with all the clamoring commotion. “We’re all girls here.” She tossed a towel at Raine, and glared at her. “Cover it up. There’s no Free The Nipple Campaign going on.”
With a smile, Raine pressed the towel demurely to her breasts.
“Go try this on,” Lara said, handing the halter to Virginia. She disappeared behind the screen.
“Oh,” Virginia called out, her raspy voice tinged with surprise. “It’s warm. From her body.” She sounded a bit breathless and Lara gave side-eye to Marcie.
Marcie shrugged. Who knew what was going through the trollop’s head?
“Lady-dabbler,” Anita mouthed.
Virginia emerged from the screened area and held out her arms, turning in a slow circle so everyone could see.
“We’re gonna have to teach them how to shave more than their legs,” Anita announced, peering through the fabric.
“Stop that,” Marcie chided, smacking the back of her head.
“Oh, that’s perfect,” Jannie said. “Anita has a tube top that should work, too.”
“I do not have a tube top. That’s so old school.”
“Bitch, please,” Lara said. “You also have a vibrator in that box in the closet we can replicate.”
Anita’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know that?”
“What is this?” Joy asked, her eyes wide. “A vibe-ber-rator? Explain, please.”
There was complete silence in the room. “You know,” Lara said. “A device for self-pleasure?”
A blank look was her return answer.
Marcie turned toward the Madonna of Puritans. “Pariah, are you the only one who’s had sex?”
“I believe so,” Pariah said, looking down at her nails. “Wilma will be next, of course. She would be married to the next highest official right now, with that glorious unibrow she grew. Unfortunately, she was banished along with us.”
Wilma Ann’s lips pursed, turning white with the pressure. “I will get first pick upon our return,” she snapped.
“Of course.” Pariah rolled her eyes. “We all know that you want Preston McGillicutti.”
“He’s the highest ranking of the ruling council,” Virginia said in her breathy rasp. “But I hear he has the smallest member.” She giggled behind her fingers.
“He does,” Pariah announced. “But that isn’t important. One day you may have a personal vibrator to own for yourself. We’ll give you those lessons later. Usually once the unibrow grows, but these are difficult times and we must adapt.”
“Banished? What exactly were you banished for?” Marcie asked.
Pariah sighed. “To keep us safe. That’s all.”
There was more to the story, but Marcie decided to drop the line of questioning.
“So some of you own personal vibrators?”
“Doesn’t every woman?” Pariah countered.
All heads turned toward one, lone, unibrowed woman. Apparently not Wilma. She looked like her eyes were about to burst from her head. Her face was beet red and her breath came in short huffs.
“Dear one, would you like to help school the purple children in the ways of the Lord?” Pariah asked gently. “The rest of us can finish with the sexual education here.”
A switch flipped in Wilma. She looked nearly giggly as she gleefully nodded and backed from the room, as if worried someone may change their mind.
Pariah sighed. “I love her to death. But I cannot figure out why she can’t embrace her sexuality.”
“Me neither,” the breathy voice of Virginia said. From behind the screen, everyone had a clear view of her silhouette as her hands ran over her own breasts and tweaked her nipples. Next to her, the shadowy image of Joy smacked her hands down off her body.
“You’ll go blind,” Joy whispered loudly.
“Hopefully, she’ll learn before she signs up to marry Preston,” Lara murmured.
“Girls, hurry up back there,” Pariah called. “There aren’t many moments where we aren’t surrounded by men or children. Or Wilma. We need to get this crash course on sexual education squeezed out.”
The four genteel ladies clamored to get out from behind the two screens. There was a yelp and a crash, followed by another, and all four sprawled out on the floor again.
On the bottom, Virginia moaned.
“Oops,” Marcie said, extending a hand to Beatrice to pull her off the top of the pile. “You’re a clumsy lot.”
“And they’ll have to learn to dance,” Pariah said, her voice a bit resigned. “Thankfully the men here are bigger and my ungraceful twits won’t hurt anyone.”
“Bigger?” Anita asked. “Than what?”
“Our own men. Quaker males average about three and a half feet. Though we have one who is positively deformed. He stands at four and a quarter. Simply massive.” There was a reverence in her tone when she spoke of him.
Marcie realized her mouth was dry from the amount of time it hung open. She slammed it shut. She tapped Jannie on the elbow, and she snapped her jaw shut, and then Jannie turned and did the same for Anita, who stood next to her. Anita then tapped Lara. Lara’s teeth clicked as she shut it abruptly.
“So all the me
n are…little persons? Why are the women so big?”
Pariah shrugged. “It is just His way. His. Capital H.” She pointed up to the skies.
“You know,” Jannie snickered. “Like it’s His way that our guys are so big.”
“Have you ever heard of Little Man Syndrome?” Marcie asked.
Pariah’s unibrow bunched in the center, moving up in a squiggled triangle. “No. What is that?”
“It’s when men, usually smaller in size, have an alter ego. They compensate for their lack of size by…” she searched for the right words as to not offend the Quakers. “Controlling others. Usually women, since they’re considered the weaker sex. They may repress sexuality—”
“—or even the right to vote,” Anita snickered.
“There are smaller men everywhere?” Molli asked, her clear cornflower blue eyes wide. “Why, we were positively terrified when we met the Freijians. They’re huge.”
“Yes, but they turned out to be sooo nice,” Virginia breathed.
Marcie narrowed her eyes. It had better not be Bajoc Virginia was referring to as nice.
“Not like on your planet,” Marcie admitted. “There’s usually just a couple sprinkled into the masses. But in our world little could mean his height…or his penis length. Even though most claim to being average.” She used her fingers to air-quote the word.
There was total silence at her words.
“How would we know what average is?” Joy asked.
“You might want to ask one of the whores of your planet.”
All heads turned to Pariah. She answered easily enough, holding out one pinkie finger. The human females groaned, while the Quakers gasped.
“No way,” Anita said. “You’re joking.”
Pariah shrugged. “You asked average. There’s only been once that there was one this size,” she held up her index finger. “And that affair lasted for six years.” She had that satisfied smirk on her face.
Joy nodded. “Pariah should know. She’s made her rounds.”
At Pariah’s glare, she lowered her head to look down at her boots.
“Glad my Kama Sutra is the size of my forearm,” Anita said.
“What?!” Pariah’s head turned sharply toward her. “Is that possible? Or are you joking?”
