As her thoughts wandered through these almost dangerous memories, so too did the touch of the many tendril. Done with a thorough rubbing down of her f...et, attending every toe, every hollow, every ache, smooth, faintly glowing tendrils now worked the muscles of her calves. They were slowly, slowly working their way higher on her legs, obeying the therapeutic rules of pushing the blood toward the heart. At the same time, more prehensile limbs, finger-with, but impossibly longer, worked her hands. The last two were exceptional. One was a petite brunette who sang a song. Another was a blond who did cartwheels. The bids were high, and I wondered if anyone had money to purchase my mother. It was time for my mother to be sold. She stood up when ordered and was led to the front of the stage. Her hands were still tied behind her back. Mom had the largest smile on her face. She stopped to shimmy her ample breasts. She even turned around so that all of the audience could see every side of her. I. More

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