and the boy’s a great cook, too

Not that he was unsupportive of Marikit’s church. These folks acted like they had met Kai-Kai many times and were paying a frequent courtesy call; maybe they visited during every Lab draining. And he helped the church out a lot by being the cook at their annual pancake breakfast, held on a Saturday. It was a huge fundraiser for them, since everyone knew what a good cook he was. Angela had gone last year -- held outdoors because it was a fine day -- and discovered why his pancakes were so famous. She also struck up a conversation with the woman, about age 40, sitting next to her at the long table, who was in traditional Sri Lankan clothing. The Sri Lankan woman excused herself, and when Angela went to the back of the tent to compliment Kai-Kai on his cooking skill, she learned that the woman was that day’s I-3 and had taken the naked boy behind the bushes so she could be impregnated by him. A few minutes after that Kai-Kai, having peed in the bushes to clear out his urethra and wiped his penis off, was back behind the griddle, flipping more pancakes. He was characteristically modest when she asked about the recipe. “Not anything special,” he said, as he flipped away, Angela trying not to look down as his genitals swayed with his motions. “Soy flour, whole wheat, a little white. Orange juice to make it fluffier.”