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Authors: Christopher L. Bennett
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in her favorite sport: chasing boys. Due to her “unfair advantages,” the Greenwooders rarely let her play any other sport, except under frustrating restrictions. Generally the only person she got to engage with in athletic contests was her father, who still guided her in the martial arts and still played superheroes with her.
But these days she was getting more interested in the games she could play with teenage boys—particularly since she had a decided advantage here as well. Even though the boys that interested her were older than her thirteen years, their parents had kept them in the dark about sex. Emry’s parents had considered it more responsible to give her a solid grounding in sexuality before it became an issue in her life. And since this game wasn’t being played under adult supervision, she felt free to exercise her advantage.
Her physical precociousness gave her another edge, for her breasts had reached full size already; indeed, for a while she’d wondered if they would ever stop growing. Emry wondered where these heavy round orbs had come from, since her mother had such dainty, tapered breasts. From the neck up, she was unmistakably her mother’s daughter, except for her heavier chin and Shannon coloring. But her body couldn’t have been more different. Emry had gone through a phase in which she’d felt bulky and awkward, but now that she’d grown into her strong, mesomorphic frame and voluptuous curves, she’d come to delight in her differences from Lyra. She loved to show off with scanty tops, often lifting or shedding them for the boys who gawked at her. Their reactions when she flashed them were hilarious, especially when they pretended to be properly prudish and uninterested while trying desperately to get a good peek through their fingers. It was even more fun when they ran and she could literally chase them. Of course she could overtake them easily, and they were usually glad to be caught, even when they were terrified. Unfortunately, she hadn’t yet snagged anyone willing to go past second base. Despite their fascination, they were intimidated by her strength and her greater understanding of things that were still mysteries to them.
Lyra gently admonished her to go easy on the poor dears. But she trusted Emry to wield her sexuality responsibly and to consult with her parents before taking each new step. Overall, Lyra enjoyed hearing of her daughter’s exploits and experiments, dishing with her like a sister over the ribald details, vicariously amused by her tweaking of Greenwood’s taboos—and pleased that she was finally getting along better, after a fashion, with the other children. Yet she advised the teenager to be cautious with older males, since there were those who felt threatened by women’s sexual power and sought to twist it against them. But Emry had learned her lessons well, and the one college boy who’d tried something she hadn’t invited had gone home sorer and wiser, though with no broken bones.
Her quarry today was younger, a cute, shy black-haired boy her own age whom she’d decided to bring out of his shell. The poor thing had jumped halfway to the axis when she’d pinched his adorable buns, and he’d turned out to be a runner—though he let himself get cornered so easily that it had to be intentional. She was just about to undo her top and give him the thrill of his life when his eyes suddenly lifted from her chest, looking past her in terror. Oh, hell, Emry thought, figuring a parent or teacher was behind her, gearing up for a Stern Lecture on Morality.
But then the explosions began.
Emry whirled to behold the kind of scene she thought only happened on the news, and only on other habitats. Over in the town, symbot-suited people were shooting at each other, using big, heavy weapons to try to punch through each other’s armor. They didn’t seem to be going after the Greenwooders—but they didn’t seem to care who got in their way, or whose homes or
But these days she was getting more interested in the games she could play with teenage boys—particularly since she had a decided advantage here as well. Even though the boys that interested her were older than her thirteen years, their parents had kept them in the dark about sex. Emry’s parents had considered it more responsible to give her a solid grounding in sexuality before it became an issue in her life. And since this game wasn’t being played under adult supervision, she felt free to exercise her advantage.
Her physical precociousness gave her another edge, for her breasts had reached full size already; indeed, for a while she’d wondered if they would ever stop growing. Emry wondered where these heavy round orbs had come from, since her mother had such dainty, tapered breasts. From the neck up, she was unmistakably her mother’s daughter, except for her heavier chin and Shannon coloring. But her body couldn’t have been more different. Emry had gone through a phase in which she’d felt bulky and awkward, but now that she’d grown into her strong, mesomorphic frame and voluptuous curves, she’d come to delight in her differences from Lyra. She loved to show off with scanty tops, often lifting or shedding them for the boys who gawked at her. Their reactions when she flashed them were hilarious, especially when they pretended to be properly prudish and uninterested while trying desperately to get a good peek through their fingers. It was even more fun when they ran and she could literally chase them. Of course she could overtake them easily, and they were usually glad to be caught, even when they were terrified. Unfortunately, she hadn’t yet snagged anyone willing to go past second base. Despite their fascination, they were intimidated by her strength and her greater understanding of things that were still mysteries to them.
Lyra gently admonished her to go easy on the poor dears. But she trusted Emry to wield her sexuality responsibly and to consult with her parents before taking each new step. Overall, Lyra enjoyed hearing of her daughter’s exploits and experiments, dishing with her like a sister over the ribald details, vicariously amused by her tweaking of Greenwood’s taboos—and pleased that she was finally getting along better, after a fashion, with the other children. Yet she advised the teenager to be cautious with older males, since there were those who felt threatened by women’s sexual power and sought to twist it against them. But Emry had learned her lessons well, and the one college boy who’d tried something she hadn’t invited had gone home sorer and wiser, though with no broken bones.
Her quarry today was younger, a cute, shy black-haired boy her own age whom she’d decided to bring out of his shell. The poor thing had jumped halfway to the axis when she’d pinched his adorable buns, and he’d turned out to be a runner—though he let himself get cornered so easily that it had to be intentional. She was just about to undo her top and give him the thrill of his life when his eyes suddenly lifted from her chest, looking past her in terror. Oh, hell, Emry thought, figuring a parent or teacher was behind her, gearing up for a Stern Lecture on Morality.
But then the explosions began.
Emry whirled to behold the kind of scene she thought only happened on the news, and only on other habitats. Over in the town, symbot-suited people were shooting at each other, using big, heavy weapons to try to punch through each other’s armor. They didn’t seem to be going after the Greenwooders—but they didn’t seem to care who got in their way, or whose homes or
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