(I felt like Mikey should get a chance to not mess things up... )
And so the rest of the school year passed. Just as expected, Karyn graduated with flying colors and Jen flunked out with straight F's on her report card. She didn't care in the slightest. She was quietly proud of Karyn, and she even showed up at graduation just to watch her get her diploma. Just for a second she wondered what it would have been like to walk up there beside her... to be Jon again. Then, she dismissed it and left the auditorium in the company of some of her best guys. She'd received an invitation to Karyn's after graduation party, but she had no intention to go. Karyn didn't want a slut like her at her party anyway. Instead she hung out with the other girls who'd flunked out. They were Ginger, Heather and Rose, and they suited her just fine. They didn't get on her back about wanting to fuck all the time, and they never gave her shit about the way she lived her life. She'd been hanging out with them for a bit now (she'd even taken up smoking because of them) and soon Jan thought of them as her best friends. They hung out together, smoked, drank and fucked, and gradually became the best of friends.
She blew off most of her summer school classes, and next year she was again in 9th grade... and the next year, it happened again. Then again. Every year was simply a flood of empty, raunchy sex... and somewhere in the middle of that... she forgot. She simply forgot. She didn't wish away her memories or anything like that, but when all you do it fuck and drink and fuck and smoke and fuck and sleep... something snaps. She stopped thinking about her past... and eventually, she couldn't clearly remember her past. She vaguely remembered Karyn, but it was like her time spent with Karyn was something she'd read about a decade ago. Kind of like her not-very-often-taxed language skills were devolving into a series of "Like's", "Totally's" and "Dunno's" as she hung out with girls who only talked like that, and guys who never talked to her at all.
And her life as Jon? She... simply didn't remember anymore. She was Jennifer. Jen for short. And she'd ALWAYS been a tiny, impossible slut... with a lucky rock. Sometimes months would go by without using the thing, and even when she did she never wished for anything important for herself. Just little wishes for her family...
Mom was unhappy with her job, and Jen said "I wish mom, like... would get th' job she wants most... an' she'll be awesome at it."
Days later, the papers came through from the loan office, and mom quit the dull but well-paying job she had... and opened her own bakery. Right away, her business seemed blessed (the town hadn't had a proper bakery for ages) and soon she was flooded with orders. She hired three assistants soon enough, and she LOVED her bakery and the joy it gave her. Jen loved to watch her mom going off to work every day, whistling and cheerful, and her mom was much more pleasant to her.
Zoe was out of collage, and she wasn't having any real success finding direction in her life. "I wish Zoe would have th' chance t' do... what'eva she wanted t' do. To be a big star doin' th' thing she likes most."
Zoes' life exploded like a rocket that summer. First, her morbid, depressing poetry was bought by a book polisher, and soon her "Unhappy Words" were number one on the best sellers list. She sent several spiral notebooks of her poetry to her publisher, and he was dazzled by them all... as was the public. Several of her favorite bands contacted her through her agent, and soon she was writing songs as well. It was like a dream come true! Before she moved out and bought a nice, old house of her own (a mansion that looked like something the Addams Family might have called home) she was often sitting on her older sisters bed, gushing and kicking her feet in happiness. Jen just giggled and told her "That sounds great, Zoe! I'm, like... jus' totally glad yer havin' a good time an' stuff."
Zoe smiled at her sister, and blinked back tears. It was too bad that dumb, slutty Jennifer was never going to have the chances she had. It was too bad that all the good luck seemed to have settled on her and moms shoulders. She kissed Jen on the cheek, and said "Thanks, sis. You're like my good luck charm."
Jen giggled. It was truer that she knew.
Mikey was getting into high school now, and for her the endless supply of cocks had finally dried up She'd turned 21 last year, and there was a limit as to how long any person could go to school when it clearly wasn't doing them any good. She'd taken IQ tests that suggested (she didn't have the focus to do them, and instead fondled and played with herself for most of the time) that she might even be mentally retarded, but a psychologist sat down with her, and diagnosed her with the most extream case of Nymphomania that he'd ever seen. He said it wasn't that she was actually stupid, as Jen could function for short periods of time, and that durring those periods she was capable of knocking off the hardest questions on the test quite easily. The problem was... that after a few minutes of this, she'd start fondling herself and begging for cock. She was told she was going to a special hospital where she could be looked after and perhaps even cured, and she paniced. She wanted to wish all of this away, but... she'd left her "lucky rock" at home. She begged her mother to help her, and with tears in her eyes she was told "The doctors are helping you, Jennifer. They'll make you better."
Thinking she meant "They'll fuck you." Jen went with the doctor... but soon found that nobody had any intention of fucking her at all. She threw a fit, and desperately tried to get at the cocks that were around her, but she was a tiny, strengthless creature who was built for fucking... not fighting. A straight jacket was placed on her, and now... she couldn't even reach her working parts with her own hands. She screamed "Fuck me! Fuck me, please!" but it did no good. That gave her some drugs that didn't help very much, and she moaned and begged for cock every night. They tried to give her counseling of some kind, but she wanted cock. More drugs? She WANT cock! More counciling"
COCK! COCK! COCK!
She screamed it all day and all night, and the NEED kept building and building... till something in her head snapped... and she didn't speak or think anymore. She just stared into the corner of her room, drooling. More doctors were call in, and they muttered things about "mental collapse" and "vegetative state" as they started to feed her intravenously, and transferred her to a regular hospital. They told her mother about her collapse, and both her mom and Zoe - the girl from all those books and songs - showed at the hospital and looked down at her drooling, comatose and seemingly lost to the world... and they cried. Her mother hugged her, and begged "Oh, Jennifer... if only I had you back, I'd never try to change you again. I miss you so much."
"m... mum... m-m-mom?" Jen moaned, her voice tiny and breathy.
Zoe and her mother gasped, and mom asked "Yes? Jennifer?"
"I... I wanna... f-f-fuck... " she moaned, her hands snaking to her poor, neglected pussy. She started to stroke weakly at it, and she started to cry. "I n... nuh... needs it... "
The doctors were thrilled, but Jens mother snarled that they'd never have the chance to touch her again. She'd never try to change Jennifer again. She accepted that she was just a slut, and maybe she wasn't stupid... but she was special and precious as a jewel. If she needed cock, that that's what she'd get.
Days later, after inducing some of her old "friends" from high school to come home and bang her for old times sake, Jennifer was driven to a place that Zoe had found on line. An exclusive bordello called "The Pussycat Ranch", where the girls were taken care of and she could have a steady supply of men. Papers were signed, and soon Jennifer had her own pink, fluffy room. She squealed and scampered about, giggling and gushing at the big bed and all the nice stuff. She was asked what she'd like to be called, and when she was told she needed a false name to work under, she... just couldn't think of one. Her brain had been badly handled, and she wasn't quite as quick as she had been. She looked at her mommy and cocked her head to the side.
"Kitten." her mother said "Call her Kitten."
"Kitten?" she gushed, and she danced for joy. It was a perfect name! A tiny, soft little thing like her should ALWAYS be called Kitten!
She had her first clients that day, and it was so AWESOME t' be back in business! Like, fuckin' waz whut she wann'ed t' do, y'know? Her brain never recovered from it's rough treatment, and it was a genuinely stupid, vacuous little bimbo that had replaced the old Jen. A bimbo who answered to the name Kitten... and within a month, forgot that she wasn't always called Kitten. Her long term memory was shot, and she only remembered things that were repeated often. She was tiny and soft? Musta always been so. She was a platinum blond? Sure, doll... I always wuz. She was a girl? Like, duh! Who tol' yah? She was a silly, stupid bimbo? Dey don' makes 'em any dumber, hun. She had gigantic, natural tits and a big ass? Like, always. I'm jus' all tits an' ass, babe. Her name was Kitten? Yup. Jus' calls me (giggle) Kitten. Dat's whut everyone calls me, sweetie. Jus' plain, ol' sexy Kitten.
Her mom visited her, and she had to be reminded that this was her mother. Once she grasped that, she giggled and hugged her, and told her about all the gorgous cocks in Kittens life and how nice the other girls were to Kitten. She always seemed to speak of herself in the third person, and her mother - unwilling to put any strain on her daughters poor brain - didn't correct her... or call her Jen. She just accepted Kitten as her daughters new name, and passed that info on to Zoe when she saw her. Mom and Zoe visited her rather more often, so she didn't forget them, and whenever they did... they called her Kitten. Kitten was a silly, stupid bundle of fluff and giggles, gushing and wriggling in happiness about how much she LOVED the Pussycat Ranch, and all the girls who worked here... and that's all she was now. She never asked her mom to bring her the "Lucky Stone" she'd left on her dresser... as she never remembered having such a stone.
"Mom? Can I have this?"
They were bundling up some of Kittens stuff for storage, sale and donation. Mikey - a strapping young man of 16 now - had just picked up the cool-looking rock off the corner of Jen... well, Kittens... dresser. He held it up, and she glanced at it. Just a rock.
"Sure, you can keep it I don't think J-... uh, Kitten would mind. In fact, I think she'd like you to have it."
