Clarissa sighed as she woke to her tenth morning in her cell -- not her new home, she reminded herself. It will never be home. Home is where my family is, my real family, not my doggy family. Home is where Natalie is.

Mr. X had not appeared for several days now, and she suspected she would not be seeing him much in the future. No doubt he wanted her to forget she had ever been anything other than a dog, or that her world had ever been any bigger than the space enclosed by these four walls. But the food and water continued to flow at the press of a button, as if by magic, and she had no doubt he was still observing -- once or twice a day she would suddenly experience that mysterious sense of scrutiny, set off by some subliminal cue she had not been able to identify.

As her mind shook off the last shreds of sleep, a sense of confusion intruded. She first took it to be the remnants of a dream, but convinced herself it wasn't. Last night in the doghouse, shortly after her now nightly ritual of relieving her enforced sexual tension in Thunder's embrace, she had felt a sudden dizziness, and a fast-growing drowsiness that seemed to exceed the normal onset of sleep. On recent nights she had been practicing a sort of auto-hypnosis to relax herself for sleep, working to convince herself it was Natalie's soft, warm skin she was pressed against and clinging to rather than Thunder's furry chest. She couldn't recall any such efforts last night. The day, she thought, must have tired her much more than she'd thought.

The floor of the doghouse felt warmer than usual, almost hot, and she quickly untangled herself from Thunder, who still seemed a little groggy. Oddly, it was her left hind leg that was thrust between Thunder's hind legs -- usually she put her right, or upper one, through them. She stretched and got up on her hooves, emerging from the doghouse to find the air outside a little warmer than usual -- as if summer were approaching, she thought, impossible though that would be in a completely temperature-controlled environment. Everything pointed to her awakening a little later than usual.

Out of habit as she emerged, she surreptitiously scraped a tenth mark in the dirt next to the doghouse, groaning inwardly at the proof of the length of time she'd been imprisoned here. She felt a slight sting in her right buttock as she hurried to the food dish to have her breakfast before Thunder got up. It seemed familiar, and she remembered a similar feeling when she had first found herself in the cell, the day she'd been taken -- yes, just like that! He must have given her a shot to put her to sleep... but wouldn't she remember that? Maybe something else had made her drowsy first. Something in the food or water? And Thunder had been sleeping too... yes, that had to be it. He'd drugged her, and once she was out of it, he'd come in and given her a shot, probably with some more effective drug that guaranteed she'd be out for the whole night. But why?

She looked over all parts of her body she could see. Nothing seemed different. Her head felt cool, but she was used to feeling chilled in the morning... but it did feel a little weird. She lifted up her right foreleg to rub it against the side of her head...

Instantly she jerked her head to look to the left, to verify in the big mirror what her foreleg was telling her. She turned and ran to the mirror to get a closer look.

He'd shaved her bald! She looked at her image in the mirror in disbelief, rubbing her head again with her foreleg. It felt completely smooth, no stubble. Even her eyebrows were gone! She ducked her head to look quickly down between her hind legs -- her bush was still there. He had probably used a hair-removal cream -- but why? What was he trying to do now? The image in the mirror just wasn't her, it looked more like a space alien from one of those movies Kirstie always used to rent when they were growing up at Dad's house. She couldn't identify with the reflection she was seeing... Yes, that must be it! He had come up with another way to steal part of her humanity, almost the last remaining trace of it. She realized, now, that every time she had seen herself in the mirror, it had reminded her that she was human, that she'd had another life before she came here, one she would get back to soon and forget this one had intruded... she could feel that life slipping farther away, beyond her grasp, beyond her ability to call it back with a simple look in the mirror.

I am that person! I'm Clarissa Martin, I have a family, and I'll be with them again!

She gasped and retreated as the ghostly image of her tormentor suddenly appeared almost directly in front of her, seeming larger than life. The microphone carrier hummed. "Like your new look, Sprite?"

She looked up at him pleadingly. "No! What did you do? It'll grow back, won't it?"

He frowned as she spoke, then seemed to acknowledge to himself that he'd invited a response. "It would, but I'll give you treatments every week or two. If I get a chance I'll look into some good ways to make it permanent, so I won't have to keep bothering with it. You may as well get used to it, Sprite."

"I'm not Sprite! I'm Clarissa, I'm Clarissa!!" She looked again at her image, desperately looking for some confirmation.

He glared at her. "Very bad dog! I've been a patient master, but don't test how far that'll go. No more speaking without permission." He smiled, but there was clearly no warmth in it. "I can make your days even less interesting."

He turned and bent down, and dragged something from behind him closer to the mirror. It looked as ghostly as he did, though it was no doubt solid, and she frowned in puzzlement as she tried to figure out its function. It seemed to be some sort of small bench, about thirty inches long and a foot wide, standing on four short thick cylindrical metal legs, so unnecessarily fat they looked like stubby elephant legs. The surface of the bench was flat and wooden, with big circular holes at the four corners, which went down into the legs of the bench -- obviously the legs were hollow tubes. There were two more large holes in the surface of the bench, near one of the shorter edges. From that same edge, a short post rose, supporting what appeared to be a metal mask -- at least it was shaped like a face, with a nose in the appropriate place, and a rubber tubing hanging from a hole where the mouth would be. There were no holes for eyes, though. Hanging from one side of the mask, near where the wearer's left ear would be, was an adjustable strap, ending in a ring obviously meant to attach to the hook on the other side by the right ear. Mr. X turned the bench so Clarissa could see the inside of the mask. On this side, there was a large squeeze-bulb where the mouth would go. Clarissa was unconsciously shaking her head, backing away in horror as the purpose of the bench suddenly became clear in her head. "I see you've figured it out, Sprite. Your legs go down the tubes at the corners, and your boobs will hang down through these two holes. I'll provide you with a hearty, nutricious soup that you can suck in through the bulb here, and you've got air holes for your nostrils here. If you can't behave yourself as a dog, your other choice is to be simply a milk dispenser for the puppies and a fuck toy for Thunder. How about it?"

Clarissa could see that, once her legs had been inserted down the hollow bench legs, she would not even need to be strapped down to the bench -- the holes were so deep that no amount of twisting would enable her to pull any of her legs out of one. Once her head was strapped into the mask, she would be able to eat but not talk; hear but not see; live indefinitely but never, ever have a chance of escaping.

Her stomach churned, a wave of nausea nearly relieving her of her breakfast. A stream of urine splattered onto the ground between her hind legs. She continued backing away, her eyes locked on the ghost's, trying to decide whether the punishment was imminent.

He smiled again. "Good dog. Now go feed your babies." His image winked out suddenly, leaving her looking at her bald head. She was shaking all over, for once being advantaged by her lack of knee joints -- she would have collapsed on the ground if she'd needed them for support.

She jumped when she felt a cold nose nudging her left breast -- one of the puppies wanting breakfast. She let herself fall to the side, and stroked him as he nursed, tears streaming down her cheeks. She felt crushed -- not because of the threat of the bench, scary as that was, but by a thought that had just exploded on her consciousness: that, by shaving her head without her even being aware of his presence in the cell, he had demolished what seemed to be her last hope of escaping. She wondered whether, somehow, that had been his intention, the head-shaving just an amusing by-product.

She had not really evolved any detailed escape plans, but any mental image of her departure always involved somehow taking advantage of Mr. X's presence in the cell. Maybe Thunder could attack him. Maybe she could train Thunder to do that. Maybe she could trip the man and dash out the open door before he could recover. Maybe...

None of these would work. She knew, now, that he would never be in the cell while she was awake. The door would never be open during any conscious moment. She would only ever see him through the glass, an unreachable god figure... and couldn't even talk to him then! Because she knew what would happen if she did.

She still wasn't sure how he had put her to sleep. Had he drugged the water? If it happened in the future, maybe she could feign sleep. Maybe she would pick up some subtle taste in the water and only pretend to drink it -- though she hadn't noticed anything at all unusual last night. But if she did, if she managed to get him into the cell, then what? The idea of overpowering him or even momentarily slowing him, and certainly the idea of outrunning him afterwards, she knew to be ridiculous in her physically reduced state. And the consequences of an escape attempt that would certainly fail -- how long would he leave her trapped in that bench, to be nothing other than an inviting hole for Thunder and nipples for the puppies? He'd let her go at nightfall, wouldn't he? So she wouldn't freeze? But maybe he'd keep the heat up. After all, he only turned it down now to force her into the doghouse. He could keep her on that bench for days. At least.

So much for escape.

Natalie set her jaw grimly as Tom unlocked her travel leash from the back of the truck cab and led her down the ramp. They hadn't been back to the police station since that day they'd been to Karl Gordon's house, though Tom assured her he'd called Detective Warren every couple of days. Today she'd begged him to take her to the station, and late in the day he'd given up trying to resist her. She tried to make sure she remembered all the ideas she'd come up with.

As the entered the front room at the station, Floyd looked up from his desk, nodded to Tom, and waved his hand towards the door behind him, inviting Tom to go straight back to Warren's office. As Natalie walked behind him, she remembered Clarence leading her down the same hallway. She'd had such high hopes that day!

Warren stood, behind his desk, and shook hands with Tom. He nodded to Natalie. Her impression was that he looked a little uncomfortable. He gestured to Tom to take a seat. Natalie came up beside the chair, and Tom put his hand on her shoulder and absently tapped his fingers on her collar.

Tom explained, "I know we could just have talked on the phone, but I was going to be in town anyway, so I thought I'd stop by." Natalie recognized it as a minor fib. It was a rare slave-owner who would admit to doing anything at the request of a slave, though all past events considered, she didn't think Warren would have been too surprised.

Warren nodded. "I don't really have anything new to tell you. I've talked by phone with just about all the local farmers, to see if anybody's offered to sell them a girlcow..."

Natalie blurted, "But if they'd already bought her, they wouldn't tell you, would they?" She felt Tom's hand tighten on her shoulder. As she looked up at him, he was about to say something, but instead he just smiled and gave Warren an eye-rolling, shrugging I'll-put-up-with-her-if-you-will gesture.

Warren nodded. "That's true, but most of the farmers around here wouldn't buy any cow that wasn't certified by the State Auction. They've got too much invested to risk it all buying a sick cow, and certainly wouldn't dare touch a stolen one. I'm just thinking the thief wouldn't necessarily realize that."

"Most of the farmers? What about the others?"

"I took a little closer look at the ones I wasn't sure I trusted. Took along the health inspector and said there was a virus going around spread by a bad bag of feed. Clarissa wasn't at any of those places."

"What about the auction? The thief might try to sell her at one."

"Not the local auction. Not any of the ones within a hundred miles, in fact. They all have her picture. I'm working on distributing it nationwide. It's really pretty much impossible anyway, though. She's got a brand and an I.D. tattoo. Not to mention that pass tag." He looked at Tom. "You said she was wearing it, right?"

Tom nodded. "I brought her into town often enough, I gave up taking it off and putting it on. I just left it on her."

Warren looked back at Natalie. "See, she's wearing a pass tag. It identifies where the tag was issued. There's no way an auction would take her without checking with us at some point. And if the tag's been removed... well, we'd know about that already." He gave her a questioning look, to see if she remembered how the tags worked. She returned his look, puzzled.

"The sergeant probably explained that while he was tattooing your I.D. number. About what happens if the tag is cut off?"

Natalie thought back. It seemed so long ago. "It sends some kind of signal?"

Warren nodded. "Which identifies the slave and can tell us where she is. But that hasn't happened."

And if that were going to happen, said Natalie to herself, completing the thought, it probably would have already. Clarissa's captor must be aware of that, or he would have taken it off by now. He must be keeping her someplace where the tag didn't matter. Where nobody would look at it and question his ownership.

She sighed and nodded. "What about... well, people like Clarence? People who might want their own private girlcow for..." She couldn't make herself say what they might want Clarissa for.

"I had some local suspects. I've checked them all out. I'd be able to tell if they were hiding a girlcow. I did as thorough a search as I did at Karl Gordon's house. I even dropped by on Clarence, just to make absolutely sure. I've got police departments around the area doing the same thing. Nothing's come up." His look of discomfort increased.

"You did find out something, didn't you? There's something you're not saying!"

He winced and shook his head. "There's... ummm, yes, something. Not about where Clarissa is, though. But the fact is... I'm not going to be able to put as much time in on this case as I have been. I've got other cases I have to work on too..."

"Other girlcows? If there's been a lot of thefts lately..."

He shook his head. "Not girlcows, no. Clarissa's the only one just now. A few break-ins, a stolen car, that kind of thing..."

Her jaw dropped. "But it's... Clarissa! She's not a car, she's not somebody's TV or stereo system, she's a person!"

He opened his mouth and closed it, clearly searching for a way to say this. "I know she's important, Natalie. She's important to me too. But these other cases... I can't say they're worth just nothing at all. They're less important than Clarissa, but I can't just tell people to wait until after this case is solved."

"Haven't you got other people who can work on them?"

"Other people are starting to work on them, but they need guidance, and they rely on me to provide that. Natalie, you know I didn't say I wasn't going to work on Clarissa's case at all. But... I'm also running out of new things to try. If you have some more suggestions I'll be glad to act on them."

She tried desperately to identify any dimensions the detective may have missed. They'd already discussed everything she'd come prepared to propose. She thought she must surely be empty of tears by now, but more tears came. She whispered, "You promised. You promised you'd find her."

He rubbed his eyes. "I know. I'll always remember that. And I haven't given up. The case isn't closed."

"B-but you won't be... trying as hard?"

"I'll try as hard as I can. Please believe me. I won't forget."

She tried to say thank you, but couldn't force any more words out through her constricted throat. She looked up at Tom, wordlessly asking him to take her home.

Clarissa's internal censor usually cut off thoughts about her long-term future in the cell -- she didn't want any part of her mind coming to accept that she might be here for years -- but she suddenly wondered, as the lights dimmed and she headed for the doghouse, how she and all five dogs would fit into it when the four puppies were grown up. She and Thunder occupied the major portion of it already, with the puppies usually settling in behind her after she'd finished... well, relieving the itch, as she thought of it. But if all of them were going to be as big as Thunder, how was there going to be room for them? She supposed Mr. X might at some point replace it with a bigger house -- while she was drugged to sleep, no doubt -- but somehow she had a strong premonition that he was eager to see how she and her "family" solved that problem on their own. With a sinking feeling, it occurred to her that the result would be yet another dehumanizing daily experience, having to compete with a family of large canines for floor space to sleep on.

At least she wouldn't have to face that immediately -- or ever, she said to herself, insistently, ever! I'll be out of here long before it comes to that, she told herself again and again. But she was already appalled at the amount of conscious effort was needed to remind herself that she didn't belong here, that she was not a dog. Since yesterday she had at least succeeded in overcoming the shock at seeing her hairless head in the mirror, but telling herself the image was herself, the same Clarissa she had always been, was an empty intellectual exercise. She couldn't see that Clarissa, couldn't honestly see a connection between that animal in the mirror and the self she felt inside, a self she felt desperate to hang onto as it began slipping away. It didn't help that she had almost never been exposed to a mirror since her conversion, so it had taken some convincing even before yesterday to recognize herself in the image of that girlcow walking around on four stubby legs -- it helped that she was used to seeing her sisters that way, but knowing what she herself looked like as a cow was a new experience. Certainly she recognized the face -- until he'd taken that anchor point away from her.

The aphrodisiac in the food, as always, was reaching its maximum stimulation now, after a day of dog-on-girl sessions that inevitably increased her drug-induced arousal but never managed to provide any relief. As she reached the doghouse, she groaned as she saw Thunder on his side, his leg already up to make room for her, and already with a visible erection! She scrunched her eyes shut and sighed. He's used to it! It's part of his daily habit now! He might even get mad if I don't do it. But she knew she'd have to do it in any case -- sleeping was out of the question until she did something about the insistent craving between her hind legs.

As she lay rubbing her pussy against him, feeling his heart pounding harder between her breasts as his excitement grew, she tried, as usual, to ignore the tinkling sound from behind her neck. That damned pass tag. It just added to her frustration. She had identification all over -- the T&W brand on her chest, the I.D. number tattooed on her shoulder, the pass tag with that same number, which Tom had stopped removing after the in-town trips because she went with him there so often -- it all screamed out who she belonged to, if anybody but Mr. X could see her, but it was clear that would never happen. And of course the tag just had to keep jingling to remind her. She tried to ignore it and concentrate on Thunder.

Natalie sleepwalked through the next three days -- polite to all, eating and drinking when needed, standing patiently to be milked, performing her duties in the field, usually spending each night sandwiched between her stall-mates of the day, not interested in sex but grateful for their warmth and closeness.

The fourth day was Monday, and Gail had returned at lunchtime with another pizza. Natalie tried to match the excitement of the others, but she ended up crying again, and hugs from Gail had helped a little, but she kept thinking of Clarissa missing the party. Through the afternoon she lay in Gwen and Jenny's stall, half-concentrating on the game shows on tv, sighing heavily, letting the other two girls choose the programs.

It occurred to her, towards evening, that her life was getting too similar to the way it had been before -- minus the blinding anger, but identical in the zombie-like daze that enveloped her. She knew this couldn't be what Clarissa wanted, but she couldn't think how to break out of it. The feeling grew inside her that she couldn't go on this way. During the evening milking, she asked Wendy if she'd do something for her.

"Anything, dear. What do you need?"

"Could you put me in my own stall tonight? I just mean tonight."

Wendy looked doubtful. "I don't think that's such a good idea..."

"I just need some alone time. It's so I can talk to Clarissa. I've got her inside me, and I know she could tell me what to do. I just need some time alone so I can listen to her. Okay?"

Gwen and Jenny looked at her questioningly. Jenny looked at Wendy wide-eyed with a tiny head-shake, as if to say "She didn't say anything about this before."

Natalie gave both of the girls a tiny smile. "I'm not mad at you or anything. You've been really nice, and you've helped me get through it this far. Really, I just need some alone time for one night."

Wendy looked back and forth between Natalie and the other girls, buying time to decide. She finally drew a deep breath and let it out. "Okay. Do you mind if I look in around ten or so to see if you're okay?"

Natalie smiled. "That's really sweet. Thanks." She rubbed her head against Wendy's knee, as Wendy stroked her hair. She looked up at Wendy. "Could you take me there now?"

In answer, Wendy stood up from her milking stool, and unhooked the ceiling chain from Natalie's collar. "I'll get Tom to put some fresh grain in the food trough."

Natalie lay, for the first time in two weeks, on the sleeping pad she and Clarissa had shared. Burying her face in the pad, she could sense Clarissa's scent, and it helped her feel in closer contact with the Clarissa within her.

When Wendy looked in a few hours later, she thought Natalie was asleep. She did give that impression, laying on her side, her eyes staring sightlessly at the wall. And Natalie didn't recall Wendy's visit afterward. She was deep inside herself.

By midnight, Natalie knew what to do. What Clarissa wanted her to do. She felt an enormous weight lifted from her shoulders. She knew it was right.

When Wendy came into Natalie's stall for the morning milking, Natalie looked up at her and smiled. "Miss Wendy, could you let me out in front of the stalls? I want to say something to everybody."

Wendy blinked in surprise, as much at Natalie's expression as at the request. "Uhh, sure. Want me to milk you first?"

"Oh, yes, please. I kind of forgot that was going to be a drawback of spending the night by myself. I'm about ready to pop."

Afterwards, Wendy unhooked her from her ceiling chain and walked ahead of her as she emerged from her stall and stood in the common area in front. Jill and Monica had heard her converation with Wendy, so they were waiting at the front of their stall to see what was up. The others looked up in surprise and came up closer.

Natalie suddenly felt a little self-conscious at being the center of so much attention. "Uhh, I want to ask all of you if something's okay." She looked up at Wendy. "And if it's okay with you too."

They all waited expectantly. Natalie took a deep breath. "I... guess I'll start like this. I know I haven't been... dealing with Clarissa being... missing, as well as you guys have. I know you all miss her, probably as much as I do, maybe even more... but you're all part of something that helps you get through it. My family was kind of... different, and I've never really had anybody to feel as close to as all of you do with each other. Clarissa has been... like, my connection to all of that..."

Gwen interrupted, "You are part of the family, Natalie."

A small tear dribbled down Natalie's cheek. "I know you feel that way... all of you, I mean. I just haven't had a chance to feel that way yet. I want to... do something about that. Like Clarissa would want me to. Anyway... for the next six days, I want to spend a whole day with each of you, from the field trip until the next one... just me with one of you, like you spend your day with your partner -- like I've been with Clarissa. Oh, and I promise! -- it won't be a it's-my-turn-to-cheer-up-mopey-Natalie day. I just want to get to know each of you a lot better. So I really can feel like I am part of the family. I mean, you've had you whole lifetimes to know everything there is to know about each other. I just need to catch up a little."

Monica asked, "And this would be in your stall? Spend the night there too?"

Natalie nodded and smiled. "Yeah, and we could... play a little. I know I haven't done that since... well, anyway, I haven't been in the mood, but I'll do my best. Of course, I have to see if that's okay with everybody, because it also means every day one of you would be without your partner for the day, and, uhh, for the night..."

Jenny giggled. "It's okay, we all probably need a day off... hey!" She returned the thump in the side Gwen had given her.

Natalie looked at them hopefully. "So is it okay?"

There was a chorus of assent, punctuated by Jill asking, "So who's first?"

Natalie looked up at Wendy. "Is this all okay?"

Wendy was smiling. "I can't see any problems with it."

Natalie grinned and turned back to the others. "I don't care what order, except I want to see Karen last." As Karen blinked, Natalie explained, "You and Kirsten are the oldest, and you're kind of like the leader, and... I just think I can learn the most from you. So I want to practice first, before I see you."

Karen laughed. "Okay, I guess I can take that."

The four younger girls all burst out, "Okay, I'll go first then," and all started laughing.

Wendy sighed. "See, that's your first lesson about being in the family, Natalie. You can't just ask for volunteers. You have to pick somebody."

Natalie looked up at her. "Will you do it, then, Miss Wendy? I don't want to start right out by offending anybody."

"Okay, uhh..." She made a show of covering her eyes and pointing. Dropping her hand from her face, she said, "Okay, Jill, then. Want to be first?"

"Sure!" She grinned at Natalie.

"Tell me about your mom. Clarissa's told me a little bit, but there must be a lot more. How did she raise thirty-six kids, for example? My mom had her hands full just with five of us."

They lay facing each other on the pad in Natalie's stall. Natalie had invited her to share the pad with her after a quick lunch following their return from the field trip.

Jill smiled and thought back. "Well, she did always have some help. By the time the family got that big we had a few slaves to help out. But Mom still was the one to run to if you got a scratch on your arm, or... " she raised her voice a little, "...or if Gwen broke your favorite doll!" She grinned. "She could always make you feel better."

Natalie laughed. "I guess moms always do that. My mom..."

The afternoon passed with shared reminiscences of family life. Natalie avoided bringing her father into the stories, and the discussion stayed light.

After the late afternoon milking, and shared dinner from the feeding trough, Jill asked if Natalie wanted to watch tv. Natalie shook her head, and lay down on the sleeping pad, leaving room for Jill. "Later, maybe. But I wanted to ask one more thing. Tell me something special you remember about Clarissa. About her and you, I mean. Like something you did together, or something she did for you, or... whatever."

Jill looked into the distance, thinking. She came over to the pad and lay down next to Natalie. "You mean something she..." She stopped suddenly, and grinned. "Oh, okay, I've got a good one. This must be the kind of thing you mean.

"When I was getting close to finishing high school, I was really thinking about my future for the first time -- you know how kids feel like they're going to be kids forever, and nothing will ever change, and suddenly you realize there is going to be a big change, and you have to do something with your life? Dad never insisted we all had to be girlcows, he wanted us to make up our minds about that. Well, like with Clary, you know, he really would have thought it was great if she'd got in the Hanging Academy. The academy wasn't my thing, but getting married and having a family was. I had a boyfriend, Jason, and we hadn't really talked about getting married yet, but I guess we both kind of assumed we would.

"Anyway, suddenly I wasn't so sure of that. I thought about how much I'd miss all my sisters and aunts on the farm -- I know I could have visited, but it was like I might not feel I was part of them anymore. I'd have a whole body, and they'd be different, and there'd be this big thing we didn't share in common. But I knew I couldn't have it both ways. If I became a girlcow, obviously I'd be giving Jason up, and I didn't want to do that either.

"So I came home one night after a date with Jason, and I was trying not to cry, but I wasn't doing a very good job. Clary was in the kitchen, fixing herself a snack, and most of the other girls had gone to bed.

"She asked me what was wrong -- see, like I said, I wasn't much good at hiding it. I wasn't going to tell her -- she was, what, like about fourteen, I think, and she wasn't even single-dating yet, so what does she know about boys? But mom wasn't up, and I had to tell somebody. So I told her about having a fight with Jason, about being a girlcow -- he was so pissed, because I might as well have told him I was thinking about breaking up with him, that's what being converted would amount to. He was yelling, and wanted me to tell him one real reason I should be a girlcow, one that was good enough to convince him. When he put it that way, I couldn't really think of what to say. I mean, I knew why I wanted to be one, but I knew he wouldn't understand the reasons I was giving. There was no way to say it that didn't mean I was rejecting him, and our life together. He just told me to leave, and call him back when I came up with a reason. I cried all the way home, and thought about how much I wanted to be with him, and felt like I was screwing my whole life up.

"So Clary listens to all this, and I'm crying again, and suddenly she says, Look, this is your decision, right? Not his. He doesn't have to decide anything, he knows what he wants. So why are you trying to find a way to convince him? The one you're supposed to convince is you.

"I told her that was the whole problem, I didn't know what I wanted to do, I just knew I was going to lose something either way. So she said, turn it around, then. Don't try to come up with reasons you should be a girlcow. Tell him he has to tell you why you shouldn't. Maybe he can, maybe he can't, but one way or another, you'll find out what's more important to you.

"I just stared at her for a minute, because it was so right and so obvious, and I didn't know why I hadn't seen it. I was just used to her being one of the little kids running around, but she just seemed so much more grown up than I was. I hugged her really tight and thanked her, and went and got another bowl to share the ice cream she'd found.

"Anyway, the next day I called Jason, and told him I wanted him to tell me why I shouldn't be a girlcow. He could have said stuff about I-love-you-and-don't-want-to-live-without-you, but he just wanted to convince me how dumb I was being. And he didn't understand anything about girlcows! He went on about how dirty it was, and how people would look down on me, and all these other things, and I knew none of them were true. It's like he didn't stop to think I'd lived around girlcows my whole life!

"I finally told him Jason, I love you, but I know what I need to do with my life. He didn't say anything, so I told him the whole world is mostly girls, and so many of them would jump at a chance to be with him and I was really glad about what we'd shared, and I hoped he'd be really happy. He hung up then. I never heard from him after that, except when I heard he'd married Kristi from school. I do feel sad and sometimes I miss him, but I know I did the right thing." She smiled at Natalie. "So is that what you wanted? Clary is the reason I'm here."

Natalie smiled around her tears. "Thank you. I was hoping I could find some of Clarissa inside you. I didn't know there'd be that much." She kissed Jill then, softly, feelingly. They made love in the quiet of the evening.