Author's note:
This is, in all its seven parts and their many chapters, one very,
very
long story. If long stories bother you, I suggest you read something else.
No part of this story is written so as to stand on its own. I strongly suggest that you start with
the beginning of Part 1
and read sequentially—giving up at any point you choose, of course.
All sexual activity portrayed anywhere in this story involves only people at least eighteen years old.
This entire story is posted only on literotica.com. Any other public posting without my permission in writing is a violation of my copyright.
As soon as we were back in Samantha's room—well, after a couple of enthusiastic kisses—Samantha sat down in a chair. "Phil, I have two things I want to talk about, and if we don't talk now they're going to distract me so much I won't be much good to you. OK, that's an exaggeration, but can we please talk first?"
"Any time you think we need to talk, that comes first. I mean it."
"Thank you, I know you wouldn't just say that. By now I really do know why you've had this little harem when no one else has had anything like it. The rules tell us to be courteous and considerate, but you really do it! 'Rules? I don't need no stinkin' rules!' Thank you!
"But the first thing is this, and I have to explain a lot, so please don't interrupt. Sometime in the last two days, today I think but it's kind of blurring together in places, you called me Sam. And I almost interrupted to tell you not to call me that, and I'm so glad I didn't! When I was little, my family called me Sam, and when I started to school that's what I went by, too. And then some girls teased me about it. They said it was a boy's name, and that it must mean I was really a boy, or that I wanted to be a boy—they didn't always say the same things. Well, you know little kids, I would think.
"So I started insisting on Samantha. I told my teachers and my parents I was through being Sam forever, and when my parents called me Sam I just ignored them, pretended I didn't hear, until they either remembered or got so mad that they said Samantha Elaine Bruja. Then I would pretend that I hadn't heard all the other times. I was just so stubborn about it that in the end I won, and I've been Samantha to everybody ever since. Or Bruja, of course. And if I heard some other girl, usually also Samantha, being called Sam, it just made my guts twist up until they really hurt. I'm not being figurative there, either, or exaggerating even one little bit, it really and truly made me feel sick.
"But anyway, you just said it that once. I don't know why you did it. And it bothered me. But then, I thought and thought about it, ever since. And I realized, I told you that you have a right to call me most anything, the most awful names, but you're always considerate. And then I realized that somehow I've really changed, inside, thanks to what happened with Wagner and his friends, but even more thanks to you. And I really want to be Sam to you, and maybe to everybody. Will you please call me Sam from now on? I know you'll forget a lot, and that's fine, and if you do don't waste two seconds worrying about it, but please start trying to call me Sam and think of me as Sam. I think Samantha died that night I helped them abuse poor Maggie Brown and got raped myself for it, and I'd just as soon she stayed dead."
I got up from the bed, where I had sat down as she talked, and went to her and stood her up, then sat down in her chair and pulled her into my lap. She had been holding back the tears, but now they started. I said, "Sam, I'll call you anything you want. I don't know where it came from that once, either—I don't remember saying it. I did know a Samantha in grade school who went by Sam. But I know better than anyone that you're a totally different person. The old Samantha wouldn't have been sitting there at supper trying to figure out what she could do for Jenny, wishing she could think of something. And a million other things, too. But I will try to remember. Sooner or later someone will ask me why I'm doing it and probably whether they should, too. The first question is easy, you asked me to, but you'll need to clue me in on the second. Right now you said you haven't made up your mind on that one. And that's fine. Let me know whenever you do."
I just sat there holding her in my lap for a couple of minutes. I eventually said, "There were two things, Sam. And the second?"
"I'm worried about Jenny. I know, in a way that's ridiculous, she only asked me to be her friend because of you, and just today, but everything there was about her at supper says something's very wrong. And even if she weren't your really good friend, and even if she hadn't gone out of her way to be nice to me at lunch, I'd be worried. I'm glad you asked her earlier, but I feel like we ought to do something. 'We!' Listen to me! I mean I feel like you ought to do something, and I ought to push you to do it and make it possible somehow.
"OK, that's not helpful, since I don't know what you can or should do. I just want you to know that if something comes up, don't hesitate one moment on my account. Please.
"Oh, and I'm glad she flashed you, there in the lav before supper. I'm sure you enjoyed it, and maybe it means things aren't so bad after all."
I sat there holding her for a minute. "Sam, dear, thank you. If I could think of something to do, I would do it, and I admit I wouldn't check with you if there didn't seem to be time, but I would have worried." And I just continued to sit a little longer.