Dr Hooters - Pt XLII 
by the Road Dog
1401 OCEAN DRIVE 


The boy lurched to his hands and his knees, wincing with the pain
of the effort.  He felt as  though  he  had  swallowed  half  the
ocean,  and the fierce summer sun, beating down on him now unpro-
tectedly after several stormy days,  hurt  his  eyes.   Seeing  a
white house with green shutters up off the beach, he began crawl-
ing towards it.  His long, thick penis dragged in the sand behind
him  as  he  crawled,  and he found he needed to lift it with one
hand as he crawled.

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

Amanda awoke with a start, finding herself the center of a circle
of  eyes.   She  looked  around. There was the slender blonde who
helped her inside last night, but the others were all  strangers,
of course.

There  was  a  pretty,  coffee-and-milk-colored mulatto girl with
white ribbons in her hair, and a tall, thin, pretty redhead in  a
green shirt.

A  Korean  girl  with beautiful long dark hair sat at the kitchen
table, and there was a slim, bottle-blonde  older  woman  with  a
tired expression looking up at her over a cup of steaming coffee.

Amanda glanced over at the little, dark-haired, angel-faced  girl
with  the  pixie  cut  and  the  khaki shorts.  Next to her was a
chunky, freckled girl in the overstuffed armchair.  That  rounded
out the circle.

The  slender  blonde  put a piping hot cup of coffee on the table
next to Amanda's sofa-bed, and Amanda sat up to drink it.   There
was  a  collective  intake  of breath as the blanket dropped away
from her, revealing her magnificent, trash-can-sized breasts.

"I didn't believe it when you told me, Karen",  said  Pixie  Cut,
rising  from  her chair and moving in closer.  "Its still kind of
hard to believe when you see it up close."

Freckles, Red, and White Ribbons nodded in agreement.

"I'm sorry, Amanda", said the long-legged, slender blonde.  "Good
morning,  even though its four in the afternoon.  I should intro-
duce you around. Mu name is  Karen  Pollock,  and  these  are  my
friends and housemates."

"Her  name  is  Courtney Penrose, and next to her is Chrissy Sim-
mons", she continued, pointing out  the  slim  readhead  and  the
dark-haired, angel-faced girl in the khaki shorts.

"I'm  Susan  Kim",  said the Korean girl, sitting down on the bed
with Amanda.  We were cheerleaders together  last  year  in  high
school.  This is kind of like a little reunion for us.

Karen put her hand on the coffee-colored girl's shapely shoulder.
"This's Tarah Morrison, a friend of Susan's from work, and that's
Candy  Ogden", she said, indicating the older woman.   "She works
in town.  Her daughter's out on the beach, playing."

Freckles introduced herself as Ginny Marshall.  "I sleep  in  the
basement", she said.  "Pleased to meet you!"

Amanda did another quick mental sweep.  She wasn't able to detect
anything untoward from any of the other women, no fear,  no  dis-
taste.   Just  ordinary  human benevolence and more than a little
curiosity.

"I'm very glad to meet you all", Amanda  replied.   "I've  had  a
very rough couple of days.  Thank you for taking me in."

Karen explained to the rest that Amanda had come climbing up from
the beach late the previous night, scratching at the  door  about
four o' clock.  She had been shipwrecked in the storm, and mirac-
ulously, had survived almost twelve hours in the  water,  finally
washing up right outside the cottage.

She decided against burdening them with the story Amanda had told
her the previous night.  No one would  believe  it.   She  wasn't
sure  if  she believed it.  Eight years old?  Kidnapped by a six-
breasted demoness?   Filling a pool with tit-milk?   Mind-reading
and lightning-bolt throwing?  C'mon!

It  had seemed real enough last night, in the dark, with the wind
still howling around enough to send a chill down her spine.   But
it was four o' clock in the afternoon now.  She had been to town,
and work, and back, and the everyday world had  washed  all  that
fantastic mumbo-jumbo out of her head.

One  by one, all the women in the cottage came up and gave Amanda
a brief hug.  Then Ashley  bounced  into  the  cottage  from  the
beach,  saw  Amanda sitting up on the sofa-bed, and voiced every-
one's unspoken thought.

"Oh! You're awake now", she squeaked.  "You  sure  got  some  big
titties, don't you?"

Candy  grabbed her daughter and pulled her off to the bedroom, as
the rest of them doubled over with laughter.

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

[On the telephone]

"Dr. Morton told me I'd never be receptive to any man  unless  he
had a big dick!  He told me straight out, Cary, you can spend the
rest of your life fooling yourself, or you can face  facts.   You
love  big  dicks, and you won't orgasm unless you've got an abso-
lute whopper stuck up inside you!"

"No, sweety, I'm not lieing.  That's just what he  said.   Now  I
know I was right in getting rid of Bruce when I did."

"Yes, he was dishy, wasn't he?  Even I'd have to admit that.  But
I got so **tired** of  pretending  that  his  little  needle-dick
turned  me  on.  You know yourself how fragile his ego was.  He'd
strut around the house like he was the stud-god from South Beach,
and every night I was masturbating myself to sleep."

"No,  no,  not  even  Seth.   He was better than  Bruce, but  not
much.  Long is only part of the  equation.   Thick  counts,  too.
Yes,  I  know.  Where is any of us going to find a real man these
days?"

"Yeah.  Yeah.  He went on and on, Dr. Morton did.  You  know  how
these shrinks are.  Talked about sexual programming and the self-
defeating nature of fetishism.  Doesn't matter in the least,  re-
ally.  I need the big meat.  I'm talking **inches** here.  Black,
white, brown, beautiful, repulsive, none  of  it  matters.   Just
size.    Yeah, I know it sounds superficial, but were talking or-
gasms, not true love."

"Wait a minute, honey.  I hear  someone  knocking  at  the  front
door.   No  I  have  no idea who it might be.  Postman's been and
gone an hour ago.  I'll be right back!"

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

"Darling!  You won't believe what washed  up  right  outside  the
cottage!  Loved talking to you, but I gotta go! "

-click-

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

Over  the  following days, Amanda settled into the routine at the
cottage, if anything could be said to be routine in a house where
eight  young women, and one little girl, came and went at irregu-
lar intervals for work, school, play, or shopping.  Most  of  the
young  women living at 1401 Ocean Drive found it difficult enough
juggling their time and responsibilities, so Amanda found a niche
opening for her as cook and housekeeper.

 She  moved into the basement with Ginny, a not-so-slim, somewhat
unsophisticated brunette with an explosion of freckles  all  over
her  face,  legs,  arms,  and body.  By a stroke of good fortune,
Ginny was a competent seamstress, and soon,  since  Ginny  didn't
work, Amanda had the beginnings of an adequate wardrobe.

 "I  don't  think  you've  ever  had  a bra fit you, Amanda, have
you?", Ginny asked, pinning  Amanda  into  her  latest  creation.
"Boobs like yours must cost you a fortune.  Still, I gotta admit,
it would be nice..."  She nodded her head in the direction of her
own  moderate  bosom.   "I'm  a  36B.  Have been since the eighth
grade. Nothing to complain about, but not anything to turn  heads
either."

 Having Amanda to do the cooking, cleaning, washing, ironing, and
yardwork freed the rest of the girls to spend more time on  their
own  pursuits, and before long, the dark haired castaway with her
enormous breasts came to be accepted as a necessary part  of  the
household.  Before  the  first  week  was  over,  Amanda was fast
friends with them all.

 Despite her acceptance by the young women in  the  cottage,  the
disappearance of Amanda's family concerned her deeply.  The first
week, Amanda tried calling her mother's number  several  times  a
day.  There  was  never  any  answer.  She tried calling the club
where her mother worked, but no one there  recalled  having  seen
Amanda's mother in over three weeks.

 She wheedled the number of her mother's supervisor out of one of
the dancers at the club and gave it a try. The  phone  rang,  and
someone picked up.  There was a loud clicking on the line, but no
voice.  Frightened now that someone  would  discover  her  where-
abouts  from  a call-back service, Amanda slammed the receiver on
the cradle, and gave up the telephone as a  means  of  contacting
her family.

 Desperately,  she turned to her burgeoning mental powers. Little
by little, she was able to extend the reach of her mental listen-
ing  until it extended far down the coast from Flagler County. It
was no use.  Her telepathic abilities were still too unfocused to
be  able to pinpoint a familiar mental pattern out of the general
background noise that six million  human  souls  generated.   She
learned one thing, though.

 Someone  or  something was looking for her, powerful and malevo-
lent, and it wouldn't be pleasant for Amanda to be  found  before
her  abilities  were  fully developed.  She felt the touch of the
evil force brush against her mind as she lay in  the  cool  base-
ment,  Ginnie  was  sewing  away beside her, totally oblivious of
Amanda's feverish mental activity.  Breaking out in a cold sweat,
Amanda sat up jackknife-straight in her bed.

 "What's  the matter, Mandy?", asked the kindly Ginny.  "Having a
bad dream?"

 "I'm so sorry, Ginny", Amanda replied.  "Its  not  fair  of  me,
staying here like this.  Its so dangerous for the rest of you!"

 Ginny  looked at Amanda with a puzzled look on her face.  "What-
ever are you talking about, Mandy?", she continued, returning  to
her sewing.  "You say the oddest things at times."

 Amanda  balled  her  fists.   It was so frustrating.  She hadn't
told anyone her story since her arrival, except Karen, and it was
obvious  Karen  didn't  believe her. Never before had she felt so
alone, so powerless, so scared.














































