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From: "Y. Lee Coyote" <See.signature.line@mail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} St: Second Born in Charge  (b/t, t/t, t/M, spank, humil, sex)
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Date: Fri, 16 Jul 2004 06:10:02 -0400
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St: Second Born in Charge  (b/t, t/t, t/M, spank, humil, sex)

This story is fiction.  It concerns two stepbrothers with the younger
one dominant and contains scenes of spanking, humiliation and sex.  If
such subjects are offensive, uninteresting or if you are a minor (i.e.,
child) please leave now.

This work is copyright by the author and commercial use is prohibited
without permission.  Personal/private copies are permitted only if
complete including the copyright notice.

The author would appreciate your comments -- pro and con, including
constructive criticism, and suggestions.  E-mail: YLeeCoyote@mail.com


Second Born in Charge
By
Y. Lee Coyote

It was tobacco that wrecked my life.  No, it was not lung or throat
cancer that caused the problem but *one* stupid cigarette -- my one and
*only* cigarette.  I was thirteen at the time and my kid brother,
Donald, only ten years old.  Actually he's my stepbrother for five years
earlier my dad had married his mom and since then we shared a room like
we were full brothers.  That marriage was a good thing and it was really
nice to have a mother again and a new brother already out of diapers.
But back to that fateful coffin nail; like many boys who think that they
are men, I managed to get hold of a couple of fags to try out.  Of
course, my parents had forbidden me to smoke insisting that it was a
terrible vice etc., etc., etc.  We, my buddy Ted and I, were trying this
forbidden fruit but Donny saw us and managed to take a few Polaroid
pictures of me _in flagrante delicto_.

That very evening our parents were out and Donny confronted me with the
damning evidence -- well some of it for he had hidden parts of it.  We
both knew (all to well) what sort of fate awaited me once dad found out.
Then I made the biggest mistake of my life by immediately begging Donny
not to tell.  He played it real cool and insisted that it was his _duty_
to tell for I had done wrong, needed to be punished and put back on the
right track.  I knew that one of the pleasures of life for him was
seeing me get spanked.  I suggested that he could punish me instead and,
after some feigned hesitation, he _reluctantly_ agreed to severely spank
my bare bottom as a favor to keep me out of trouble with our parents.
In return I promised to submit completely to his authority for the
spanking that evening.  I practically groveled to be allowed the
humiliation of submitting to him although I did not see it that way at
the time.

I was certain that this would be better than a trashing from dad which
surely would be followed with my being grounded for a long time.  Beside
how hard could Donny hit for he was only ten?  I soon found out -- very
hard.  Donny really was into the whole setup.  He lead me down to
father's study (where dad often punished us) and he insisted that I be
respectful and call him 'Sir' or 'Don'.  He proceeded to strip me naked
while lecturing me about the evils of smoking and eventually sat on the
same chair that dad used when spanking us.

It really was a very strange feeling when he pulled me over his lap.
Then I felt his little hand rubbing my bare ass for the first time.  It
was so much smaller than dad's hand.  He gave me a few spanks and I was
certain that I had made the right choice for they were so weak.  Then
there was a great SPANK and I yelled more in surprise than pain that one
time.  He had, I saw later, started to use a flip-flop.  The flexible
thick rubber sole packed a wallop.  All the force of his spanking arm
was transferred by the flexible sole to my butt cheeks without Don
feeling any pain at all.  This was not our father's spanking.  His were
hard spanks; Don's were softer but repeated many times over and over.
It was not like falling into the fire but more like being boiled in the
pot.

It took a while but I really started to hurt and I begged him to stop.
"If I stop before I'm done, I'll tell dad." he replied and continued to
deliver spank after painful spank.  It was a long, long spanking that
turned my butt to toast.  He also got me crying and then bawling like a
little kid.  Very soon I was a very well chastised little boy.
Eventually, he stopped and sent me to bed where I cried myself to sleep
like I did after one of dad's spankings.

In the morning I awoke with new respect for my little brother.  I never
called him Donny again.  The pain in my ass lasted several days.  He was
the man although I did not yet realize it; after all he had the balls to
spank his older brother who had never even though of spanking him.  Don
did not speak of this again until the next time he spanked me.


Just two weeks later, on a Saturday morning the folks went out leaving
Don and me to do our homework and chores.  I decided to go out to play
rather than work.  When I returned for lunch Don pounced.  He lectured
me, reminding for the first time me about spanking me for smoking, and
said that I should be spanked for being an irresponsible, naughty little
boy.  I insisted that I had plenty of time before dad was due to return.
"Well", he responded "what if dad comes home early?"  He went on to add
that he would not lie for me -- unless I accepted a spanking again and
then immediately did the chores I was required to do.

Reluctantly, I agreed.  He decided on something different and quickly
had me bent over the bed, naked with my butt sticking out.  Then he went
on to strap me with his wide leather belt.  It really hurt; more than my
first spanking from him and I was soon bawling.  Then, with my ass
burning, he made me do my chores.  I did not find it difficult to stay
in that evening to do my homework since my ass hurt too much to think
about playing.  Again, thankfully he did not tell dad anything.


It was a few weeks later that the shit hit the fan.  It was report card
time and my grades were terrible with mostly D's and couple of
C-minuses.  This was even worse than it sounds for Don had A's with just
a B as his lowest grade to use as an example.  At dinner, dad spoke of
this and I promised to work harder.  What else could I do?  He also
asked Don what he thought of my report card.  Don summed it up in just
two words: "It stinks." while holding his nose.  I really could not
blame him for that was the truth.  Then dad asked what was the
appropriate response for a parent.  Don though about it for a bit before
answering for he was only in the fifth grade while I'm in the seventh
grade.  He mostly parroted the sort of stuff dad had been saying to both
of us for a long time.  "A good, long hard SPANKING to start, dad.  Then
close monitoring to be sure that he is doing his studying and homework.
Perhaps fewer privileges and an earlier curfew."  Don was always jealous
that I was allowed more freedom than he was.

"Very interesting, Don." said dad, "We'll see." with that we continued
dinner.  I could not eat much for the butterflies in my stomach were
rioting and throwing rocks.  After dinner dad invited Don into his study
and told me to go to my room and think about things.  All I could think
about was that Don and dad were talking and surely about me.  I was a
bit more than three years older so what advice could Donny -- just ten
-- give.  After an hour I was summoned to the study.  Dad was looking
very stern behind his desk and Don, smiling, was seated next to him
looking very smug.  I stood before the desk nervously waiting.  Although
we did witness each other being punished, it was never in this sort of
position.

Of course, dad asked the same question as he had at dinner and my answer
was not any better -- "To work hard."  Then he asked how many times I
had tried smoking.  With Don there, I could not pretend to be an angel
so I admitted to once.  (Yes, Don had caught my one and only time doing
it.)  I went on to explain that it had been a very unpleasant experience
so I only did it once.  When asked, Don said he believed me.  Then dad
noted that he had observed that I had been more attentive to my chores
in the last few weeks and wondered if I had any explanation for my
improved behavior.  I still was not about to tell him about being
spanked and strapped by my little brother so I just said that I did not
know why.

"I'll tell you why, son.  It was because your brother strapped you for
your neglect just like he spanked you for smoking."  I was about to yell
at Dan for telling but he looked as surprised as I surely looked angry.
Dad continued: "I came home early that day and I heard you _begging_ Don
to spank you _again_.  That was followed by him lecturing and strapping
you and even talking about the spanking for smoking, son."  It was an
OMG moment -- dad knew it all and had not stopped it.  Then he told us
the new order of things.  Younger brother Donald was now in charge of me
with full authority to discipline -- both corporally and otherwise -- me
as he saw fit anywhere and any time.  He was responsible for checking
that I studied, did my assignments and chores.

I protested that he was three years younger and was not capable of such
responsibility.  Beside it was not right for a little brother to be in
charge.  "Stevie, you accepted, even begged Donald to spank you twice
before so that your protests now are silly.  From now on you are the
'little brother' and he is the 'big brother'.  If you truly had been the
big brother you would not have submitted to him.  You would have acted
like a man and confessed rather than being a spineless crybaby wimp."  I
was devastated that my own father thought so poorly of me and so much
more of his stepson.

It was then that Don spoke.  "Stevie, get back to our room and into
position for a strapping.  I'll be there shortly when father and I
finish talking."

I was so shocked that I just docilely said: "Yes, Sir." and did it.  It
was when I was laying over my bed, naked with my butt sticking out
waiting, that the full meaning of what dad said really registered.  I
was now the 'little brother' and Don was the 'big brother' -- the
brother-in-charge.  With this decree he now had far more authority over
me than I ever even dreamed of having over him.  Far more than any
sibling should have, even over a much younger one.  But why didn't this
feel wrong and why was my cock so hard?

Eventually Don came to me.  He told me that he expected that I would
work hard to improve my grades, to do my chores and to obey him without
question and to be respectful.  He was going to be very strict with me
and most generous with the strap and flip-flop and other things yet to
be revealed.  Now he was going to strap me for the first D grade.  I
would get spanked twice for each D and once for each C.

I heard him pull his belt out of his pants and I got a chill of
anticipation for I knew how it was going to hurt.  I wanted to run but I
was even more scared to do that not that there was any place to run to.
The seconds seemed like hours.  He swung the belt and it cut into my
butt like a hot rod.  While I was still in agony from the first cut, the
second and third came.  It was worse that the other time and the blows
landed hard and fast.  I was soon crying.  That did not relieve the pain
nor cause him to stop.  I could not help it.  Eventually, he stopped and
let me cry for some time.
=09
This was the third time he had disciplined me and each time I completely
lost control and turned into a blubbering mess of a crybaby.  It was
even worse than when dad, an adult, had spanked me although I still
always cried.  Don had not cried when dad spanked him since he had been
eight.  I felt small.  I was the older one and should have been pushing
him about but I had not been able to do that for several years.  Now he
was pushing me about and would do so in the future and I would have to
accept it.  In the future I would learn that he was an alpha male and I
certainly was not.

Eventually, I stopped crying and Don ordered me to washup and then get
to my homework.  I started to dress and he told me not to bother as
"Naughty little boys don't need clothes to cover their little hairless
pee-pees and hot red bottoms."  It was hard to study but I had a strange
motivation now.  I found out as time passed that he was very serious
about not dressing after he punished me even if others were around
including mother and other females, cousins and friends.  I hoped that
when I got pubes he would change his mind.

The next day before school, he directed me to return home immediately
after dismissal and to my studying and homework.  Then before bedtime he
checked what I had done and was doing.  He was taking his assignment
very seriously.  He also had gotten a nice blank book which he had
carefully labeled "Steven's Punishment Record".  Beside the title page
he had inscribed the details of the three spankings he had already
administered, especially how red my ass got and how I had cried like a
sissy boy.

The next evening it was time for the first spanking for the second D
grade.  He put me over his lap and used grandma's old hairbrush.  It had
a heavy oak handle with an oval head that was three inches wide at the
middle.  I quickly learnt why it had been a favorite instrument to spank
little boys.  Unlike the strap which conformed to my shape and the
flip-flop that flexed as it struck, this was rigid and packed a major
wallop on my still sore behind.  I dreaded to think what a failing grade
would bring as I diminished into that blubbering crybaby once again.

As you would expect, I cried myself to sleep once again.  I had a
strange dream which woke me in the middle of the night.  I dreamed that
I was a Peter Pan sort of boy who had never grown up and that Don was
still in charge of me.  But the Don in my dream was already grown up --
he had a mustache and was dressed in a business suit and tie while I was
still a boy like I am now.  I looked at Don sleeping confidently in his
bed.  He was still just a ten-year old boy.  But he had great power over
me as my aching butt reminded me constantly.  I wondered how long that
power would last.  Was this dream some portent of the future?

During lunch I explained to my friends that I had to skip hanging out
with them after school for my parents were really on my case about my
grades and I had to concentrate on studying.  Maybe on the weekend, I
added.  That night Don told me that he was pleased how I was working and
that he decided that the remaining eight spankings would be spaced out
with _only_ three a week.  Of course, Don did not forget them and
dutifully recorded them in the punishment book as he administered them.
There was even a delay because I cheated on my chores and my butt had to
paid the price.

The next Friday his friend, Ralph, had a sleepover when I was scheduled
to get another spanking.  Privately, I asked and then begged him not to
do it in front of his friend but to no avail.  At the usual time, he
came to check on my homework progress and to spank me.  He even made me
explain to Ralph why all this was happening.  I had to strip in front of
two ten-year olds and lay across Don's lap so that he could spank my
butt with the flip-flop.  It was totally humiliating to be reduced to a
crybaby in front of another kid.  I was sure that he would tell everyone
also.

In the morning Don let me know that Ralph, at the price of a few hits
with a second flip-flop had promised to keep quiet about the spanking.
But kids don't keep secrets very well so this was of little comfort.
Eventually, all of Don's friends and our cousins got to help spank me.


After about a month, my grades did start to improve but Don insisted
that I not slack off as he expected that I would achieve a couple of B's
at the very least.  Then this special relationship started to become
public knowledge as our friends saw how he bossed me and how I obeyed
him plus the word about spankings leaked out as the many eye witnesses
talked to each other and their best friends.

It was some three months after this started that the worst happened.
One afternoon at the school playing field I did not obey Don's order
when he said it was time to go home and study.  I nearly died when
pulled me over to a bench, yanked down my jeans and briefs and flipped
me over his lap for a spanking.  Everyone watched as he methodically
used his belt to reduce me to the bawling baby that he was always able
to do.  Perhaps it would not have been so bad if he hadn't made it bare
assed OTK and if I hadn't cried but I'll never know.  It certainly did
not help that I kicked off my briefs and jeans so that I did not even
have them to pull up to cover my still hairless boy parts and hot red
ass when he stood me up.  He did not even pick them up but just took
them from some helpful kid who did.  He did not stop to allow me to put
them on until we were out of the school yard.

Of course, my status at school plummeted, especially when the pictures
showed up two days later.  Don's status had a corresponding rise as the
rumors that he was in charge of me was now considered absolute fact.
This also changed me.  I now knew, deep in my heart, that Don was in
charge of me and both could and would swiftly punish any disobedience.
I surrendered, stopped fighting and accepted his control; this made life
somewhat easier.

Then the end of the school year came and I hoped that I would be freed.
My grades were better and the chores were being done.  But dad said no
and that was that.  Don was OK though and as long as I did my chores,
obeyed the rules and was respectful to our parents and him, I could sit
comfortably.


In the fall I was fourteen and was starting the eight grade and Don was
eleven and entering the sixth grade.  We worked out the rules for the
new term.  Well, actually, he worked out the rules and I agreed but at
least he let me have the dignity of a voice.  Then came that happy day
that all boys are most anxious for -- the first pubic hairs heralding
the start of manhood.  I proudly showed them to Don and he surprised me
by telling me that he had gotten me a present in anticipation of this
day.

It was a small package.  I thought of several nice things that would
have been appropriate such as  condoms and a razor (even though I would
not have to shave for sometime).  But it was a tweezer.  I was puzzled
and then Don explained.  "Stevie, you are the little boy here and it is
not appropriate for you to have pubes when I don't.  The tweezer is to
remove them."

I was devastated at that.  I almost cried as I dropped to the floor,
kissing his feet and begging him not to do this.  He let me grovel a
while and then pulled me up so I was on my knees.  He pulled my head
forward into his crotch.  I could smell his boyhood and feel that it was
hard as he exercised his power.  He tried to be gentle as he stroked my
head but insisted that there was not any other way.  I cried.  When I
stopped crying, I thought about speaking to dad but then he delivered
the ultimate blow.  He said that he had already spoken to dad about this
and he had approved.  Eventually, I got up and he used the tweezer to
yank out the first two short hairs that had sprouted.

That night I prayed that he would start puberty soon so that he would
grow his own hair in the hope that then he would allow me keep mine.
But that time was to be a year away and I found that two or three times
a week, I got plucked.

Time kept moving and things were as expected.  Don managed to acquire
some new toys of torture to use on me.  He frequently went to flea
markets and garage sales and found them.  He got a fraternity paddle, a
razor strop, a tawse and an honest to goodness British school cane.  He
always showed them off to me explaining that I was not so little
physically and he needed more powerful implements.  I can assure you
that they were effective even in the closet for I knew that they would
hurt.  He managed to use each of them on me nevertheless for I never
went more than a month without some infraction that earned me
punishment.

=46or the weeks that I was good and not deserving of a spanking, Don did
something else.  He gave me good boy spankings.  He would strip me,
tweeze my pubes and put me over his lap.  Then he would gently hand
spank me while telling me that I was good boy and remind me that if I
had been bad I would be in pain and crying from one of the many
implements he had.  I actually got to look forward to these.  I don't
know why but they made me feel good.

=46or all of this, I must admit that it had a good effect on my school
work for that year I achieved a couple of B's.  Having finished eight
grade, I was going on to high school in the fall.  I tried to get dad to
free me from Don's control but it was no use.  He said I was a much
better behaved boy with Don in charge and it was going to stay that way.

The summer was good.  Don let me alone as long as I did my chores and
followed the rules.  It was uneventful until it was time to shop for
clothes for the new school year.  It was just one item -- underwear --
that was a problem.  I wanted to get boxers but Don said that little
hairless boys -- like me -- wear briefs.  He quickly shut me up by
declaring that if I objected, he would select generic tightie-whities
and cartoon briefs for me.  I settled for some brand name briefs in
colors.  That evening he gave me a spanking like the very first one
using a flip-flop.  When I was bawling (yes, I still did that every
time) he told me that I needed a reminder to remember that he was the
brother-in-charge.

On Labor Day, just before the school year was going to start I asked
dad, again, about not being under Don's control pointing out that I was
fifteen now and starting high school.  He did not reject the request
like he had all the previous ones but said that he would discuss it with
mom.  He brought it up at dinner and asked Don what he thought.

"Dad," said Don, "I think that is up to mom and you to decide if Stevie
is grown up enough to be on his own.  It certainly would be easier for
me not to be his babysitter.  Since he is starting high school he
probably should have a larger allowance, a latter curfew and more
freedom."  I thought that was wonderful and dad followed up with my
release.  "I hope that you can handle it, Steve."  The latter curfew and
larger allowance followed.  I was elated.  I was stuck with the briefs
rather than boxers but it was more important that I could keep my pubes.

It was six weeks later that I knew that I was trouble.  I managed to get
three failing tests back that week.  Mom and dad had both been reminding
me about my chores not being done promptly and I had been breaking my
curfew.  Even I could see I where I was heading -- for disaster.  I
realized that there was only one way out.  I went to Don for help.  Soon
I was groveling at his feet begging to be his _little brothe_', under
his control and promising to be obedient.  He told me to ask mom and dad
at dinner and if they agreed it he would do it.  As you would expect,
they agreed but I lost all my new privileges.

Don was now twelve and knew his mind better than two years ago when this
all started.  He was better at giving orders and knew how to get me to
obey more effectively.  Somehow I thought of him as really being my
_older_ brother and sort of felt that I was still a kid of ten rather
than my actual fifteen.  The net result is that we got along well and
our parents were pleased.  It was very rare that he had to give me a
severe spanking but I did learn about the paddle, the razor strop, the
tawse and the cane that year.

I also learnt other things.  It was November and one evening he was
sitting on the edge of his bed and told me to kneel between his legs.
"Do you remember the last time you were in this position, Stevie-boy?"
he asked.  I sure did for that was when I was begging him not to pluck
my newly grown pubes.  I could not help to look down at myself and see
how smooth and hairless I still was.  It made me realize that I was
still just a little boy.

He had a T-shirt covering his crotch and pulled it away.  Suddenly I was
confronted by his still small bush.  "WOW!  You got a bush!  And you're
only twelve."  He was becoming a man physically.  The aroma from his
crotch was not like last year's boy smell but was much more masculine
and adult.  I could not help to stare at his equipment.  He pulled my
head forward and held it close.  His cock stiffened.  Soon it was
pointing straight out.  It was already as large as mine.

"Kiss it, Stevie; kiss your _big_ brother's cock." he commanded.  "Make
love to it, my little boy."

After two years of learning to obey Don, I did not have any will to
resist him.  I kissed it and then licked it.  "Good boy, Stevie, good
boy." he said gently.  The words that I had learnt to love hearing from
him.  It was always a good feeling to please my big brother.  I even let
him slide it into my mouth.  He really liked that.  Then I realized that
I was sucking his cock and it just felt right and natural.

He exercised more control by gripping my head and moving it as he
wanted.  It was not long before he exploded filling my mouth with his
hot man cream.  As he held me, it flowed down my throat.  "Good boy,
Stevie, very good boy." he repeated as he started all over.  I was so
very happy that I was pleasing him.  He stopped after the third time.
When I got up, we saw that I had shot a load on the floor without even
touching with my own dick.  "I guess that proves you liked doing this."
he declared as I wiped up the mess.  There was not anything to say
because it was obviously true.

Of course, it was only a couple of days later that he fucked me like a
proper man does with his boys.  That was even more fun.  From then on he
took his pleasure with me often and I never even thought of refusing for
he was in charge of me.

That is what happened all through high school.  Don was in charge and I
was his boy in every way.  I had to obey him, serve him sexually and he
set the rules.  Every time I spoke to dad about not being under Don
control, he asked Don what he thought.  The answer was always the same:
"I'm sorry to say, dad, but Stevie still needs to be watched closely
but, of course, it up to mother and you."  The rules did not change very
much over the years for my curfew was still like I was in the sixth
grade and every pubic hair that managed to sprout was ruthlessly plucked
out like a weed.  This made it very difficult to go out with friends
because I had to be home so early and it is embarrassing to date without
pubes when one should have them.


I did not get into college but tried a couple of technical schools to
learn a trade.  It did not work out so I ending up working for dad in
the family business.  I have not advanced very much.  I started as a
stock boy and still do that most of the time; the rest I spend being a
handyman, er, handyboy for Don.  Don went to college and got a business
degree and now runs the family business which has prospered.  He  has
reaped the gains and has a large house.  The family is Terri, his wife,
and the twins, Kurt and Kyle.  I live over the garage and work on the
grounds under Don's watchful eye.

With a loving wife and a demanding business, Don does not have much time
for me but he still spanks me and fucks me at times (especially when
Terri is not available).  I consider the twins as my family and have
enjoyed watching them grow from babies to youths.  They are now thirteen
and really changing fast.  It is hard to believe that it is some
thirty-three years since Don first spanked me since my little world has
not changed very much.

As you guessed, I have babysat for the twins a lot of times but never
for more than a day.  This changed yesterday for Don and Terri are going
away for a week and the twins convinced them that they were old enough
to stay home with just me.  One of their arguments was that dad (their
granddad) had told them how grown up and trustworthy their father, Don,
had been even at ten.  They solemnly promised that they would be good
like their dad.

The next morning was a hot day and I awoke to the sound of the twins
playing in the pool.  I put on a T-shirt and shorts and went to see.
They were both nude.  They were beautiful.  Like their father, they had
long since started puberty for their cocks had started to grow and they
had nice bushes.  I was very jealous for after three decades of being
plucked, I knew I would never have a bush.  I did have a duty, however,
to do.  I called them to task for swimming nude.  They laughed and said
that there was not anyone else around (which was true) and that it was
more fun.

I really did not know what to say but soon it would not matter.  Kurt
had gotten behind me on all fours and Kyle gave me a push.  I was now
swimming in the pool with my clothes on.  The two of them attacked me
and kept me under the water so I was gasping for breath.  This meant
that they could easily strip me which they did.  Then, as they threw my
clothes on the deck, they lectured me for swimming with my clothes on.
A little while later we were out of the pool and they made fun of me for
being a naughty hairless little boy as well.  I was amazed at much they
sounded like their father had so many years ago.

It did not take very long for them to get to say that I should be
spanked for that transgression.  Kyle sat down and yanked me across his
lap with Kurt helping.  Then they spanked me hard and fast.  They were
bigger than their father had been at that age and they hit hard.  Soon I
was in tears for I always cry when spanked.  Somewhere alone the line
they switched places so that they both had a turn at spanking me.  I
cried for a while and when I could see, I saw two very hard cocks in
need of attention.  One of them stretched out on a lounger and my face
was impaled on his hard shaft.  The other one got behind me and rammed
in.  They fucked me with the enthusiasm of youth which their father had
not done for many years.  After they had cum, they traded places and did
it again.

I was wondering how they knew about doing all of this when Kyle said:
"Boy, go get your punishment book and a pen."  My hesitation due to
shock must have shown because he then added: "We know all about how dad
been in charge of you since he was ten.  Get it, now, boy."  Of course,
I ran and got it so that they could fill in another entry.

I now had another pair of 'big brothers' to serve and obey.  Like Peter
Pan I'm never going to grow up.

The End

=A9 Copyright A.I.L.  July 15, 2004

Y.

Valid return address is <YLeeCoyote@mail.com>
(Posting address is for the spammers)

See my stories at http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/YLeeCoyote/www/
See Goldilocks stories at http://www.geocities.com/goldilocks1938/

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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