Alien Exchange Program
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The foreword to a book is supposed
to tell you something about the book. But this one is going to tell you
something about the author. Specifically, it's going to share with you the
author's frustrations about coming up with titles for books. Thinking up what
the book is going to be about is a walk in the park. Writing it is a lot of
work, but also a lot of fun. Naming it? Ahhh, now there, is the rub. At
least for me.
There are guidelines, of course.
You want the title to be eye
catching. If possible, it should be quirky. It would be nice if it is tied
closely to some aspect of the book. You want it to be memorable, so people will
be able to come up with the right title when they tell their friends about it. It
should be the kind of title that appeals to the genre of readers you're trying
to appeal to.
For some reason, doing those things
is very difficult for me.
This book is an excellent example,
and that's what I want to share with you, the kind reader who has chosen this
in an effort to find entertainment. But not right now. The examples I have in
mind would contain some spoilers. So I'm going to put the rest of this foreword
at the very back of the book. Sort of an afterword.
So now, settle back and prepare for
a bumpy ride, along with a pair of teenagers to whom something terrible ... and
yet wonderful ... happened.
See you at the end.
There is one other thing I'd like to mention here. It is actual foreword type material. To those of us who peruse the kind of book this is, viewing porn on the internet is a "given." By that, I mean most of us who read this kind of entertainment also take it for granted that everybody else has seen the kind of images we see in porn photographs and videos, and learned from those photos and videos the same kinds of information about things sexual that you and I have learned. But that is not the case. There are millions of people out there who, while they may know porn exists on line, do not seek it out. That's usually a personal choice, or, perhaps, something they are taught in the home to avoid. The reasons for that are not important in this setting. What is important is for us to remember there are those kinds of people in the world. This story, in fact, is about such a family.
Ladies and gentlemen, hobos and
tramps, cross-eyed crickets and bow-legged ants! I'm here before you, because
I'm not behind you, to tell you something I know nothing about.
Actually, that's not true. Actually,
I know all about what happened to Carly and Craig Austin. But it's so weird,
that I'm still a little freaked out by it all. Hence my somewhat odd opening. But
it's appropriate, because the whole story is odd. Except that "odd"
doesn't cover it at all. They haven't invented an adjective that's appropriate
for what happened to my nephew and niece.
I was sworn to secrecy when I learned
of it, but I'll be honest. Keeping this in any longer would drive me crazy. So
I've changed the names, and the location, and there's no way you'll ever find
out who they really are.
Besides, in one sense, the public
has a right to know. I mean, after all, if it happened to Carly and Craig, it
could happen to anybody. Including you!
But maybe only if you have a twin.
I don't know. I've thought about
this until my brain hurts.
Why don't I just tell you what I
know, and maybe you can come up with an explanation that makes more
sense than the one we came up with.
It all started while the Austin
family was on vacation in Grand Teton National Park. They were hiking, as a
family. While it doesn't matter, in terms of the seminal event that changed
their lives, the family included Fran, who is my sister, and Jack, who was my
best friend in college. That's how he met Fran, when she came to my graduation.
They fell hard for each other, got married and had two kids, twins, named Carly
and Craig. And that's all the background you really need to know, except that
all of them were as normal as the day is long.
I'm rushing. Sorry. I guess I should
probably tell you more about the twins, since what happened, happened to them,
and that's what I'm going to tell you about.
As I said, they were normal. They
were fraternal twins, of course. They were seventeen, when ... the incident ...
happened. Craig wasn't on any organized sports teams, but he loved sports and
played whatever kind of games he could get others to play. That included sand
lot baseball, racket ball, basketball, tennis, pretty much anything that let
him explosively use the muscles he had carefully cultivated in the gym. He was
a little vain about those muscles, to be truthful. But he worked hard building them
and defining them, so I guess he had a right to be proud. He was taller than
Carly by probably three inches. He was one of those boys who chafed when the
weather was bad and he couldn't go out and burn off the endless supply of
energy he seemed to have. You never saw him curled up in a chair, reading a book, unless it was homework and he was required to do that sort of thing.
Carly was shorter, as I said, and
not so muscled as her brother. She ran, but that was about it, in terms of
physical fitness. That said, she could run Craig into the ground. He was
actually the one who got her started, because he kept pestering her to go out
with him on long runs. It turned out she loved it, and eventually she started
training to run a marathon. When Craig eventually dropped out, shaking his head
in amazement, it was at the seven mile mark.
If you saw Craig, the first thing
you might think was, "Now there is a guy who spends a lot of time in the
weightlifting room at the gym." On the other hand, if you saw Carly,
the first thing you wouldn't think was, "Now there is a girl who is
so skinny she must be a runner."
You wouldn't think that because she
didn't look like your average marathoner. She had curves out the ass. Actually,
part of those curves was her ass. Looking at her from the back, at the
pool, where clothes didn't cover her up, you saw the classic hour glass figure
of a grown woman. From the side, you saw a flat plane from her feet up past her
abdomen, until you reached her chest, where mountains grew. If you could take
your eyes off those mountains, and looked at her face, you weren't disappointed
that you'd stopped looking at her breasts. She was a beautiful young woman,
with auburn hair that came clear down to her shoulder blades, and what they
call a heart-shaped face, in which sat startling, green eyes.
Craig had the same eyes. And I
suppose he was handsome. Being a guy, I'm not sure what constitutes
"handsome." I can do "beauty" all day long, but it feels a
little gay to apply that to a guy, you know? They were bright, intelligent, got
good grades, and were as normal as pie. He was popular with the girls, and she
was chased after by all the guys.
Anyway, that's a cursory description
of them. That's the basics.
As I said, they were on vacation,
and that was normal too. They went somewhere every summer and spent a week
camping and hiking. Jack called it "recharging.”
Fran was just crazy about
Jack. She was in pretty good shape too, considering she'd had two kids. But she
drove a UPS truck, and got lots of exercise, so hiking wasn't a big challenge
They had been at the park for three
days, and had just come back from hiking the trail that went through Garnet
Canyon to The Lower Saddle, below the Grand Teton itself. It was a strenuous
all day trip, and they were all tired. For that reason, Jack and Fran went to
bed early. Or maybe they wanted to get frisky before the kids came to bed. They
were all sleeping in one tent.
The kids, of course, being in a
little better shape than their parents, or at least younger, stayed up,
roasting marshmallows and talking. When they told me what happened, they
couldn't remember what they talked about, but it probably doesn't matter. They
brought lawn chairs with them when they camped, so they didn't have to sit on
the ground or improvised seats.
Suddenly, they were surrounded by a
bright light. They described it as if ten or fifteen spotlights had all
centered on them at the same time. There was no sound, and they were completely
blinded by the light.
The next thing either of them remembered
was waking up, still sitting by the camp fire, which was now only ashes. It was
early morning. Dew covered everything around them, but neither of them was damp
in any way. They weren't chilled, even though they felt the chill immediately,
as they woke. They woke at the same time.
The next part is somewhat garbled. You'll
understand why in a moment. And, because two people are involved, each telling
his or her own story, things are going to shift back and forth between them a
bit. I'll try not to jiggle you too much, but be patient. The twins were
jiggled a hell of a lot more than you'll be by what happened to
them. So count your blessings.
I'll start with Carly.
When she woke, she felt confused. Not
the normal kind of confusion we all feel now and then when we transition from
being asleep to being awake. This was more like the world-looked-a-little-tilted
type of confusion. As her eyes moved around, colors looked a little different. The
cooler, for instance. It was blue, but it was a slightly different shade of
blue than it had been the night before, when she got the marshmallows out of
The next thing she noticed was that
her head was lying to the right, on her shoulder. Except it felt wrong,
somehow. Her shoulder didn't feel as bony as it normally was. And her head felt
too heavy. She thought about all this as she raised her head and looked around.
This was when things got weird.
She saw herself sitting beside her,
right where she'd been sitting the night before.
She blinked, but the image remained
right there. Her image was moving, as if it had just awakened too.
She said, "What?"
Her voice sounded wrong. It felt wrong.
She leaned forward and stood up,
pushing herself out of the chair with her hands on the arm rests. Her body was
off balance. She almost fell into the ashes of the fire. She froze, trying to
get control back, or at least the feel of control and, in the process,
looked down. She saw thick, muscled legs and a pair of Nike running shoes.
Except they weren't her legs, and they
weren't her shoes.
They were Craig's.
She heard a female voice, next to
her say, "What the fuck!" and turned to look at the impossible image
of what she could only describe as "herself." She saw her lips move,
and, again, heard a female voice say, "What the fuck?!"
I have to take a second to remind
you that, while we all "hear" ourselves speak whenever we do it, what
issues from our mouths doesn't sound quite like what we hear. What we hear is
transmitted through the bones in our skull, for the most part. What others hear
is processed through their ears. You know what I'm talking about if you've ever
listened to a recording of your voice. It doesn't sound like you. Not to you.
But to others, it sounds completely normal. That's why Carly said she heard
"a female voice." It was, as it turned out, her voice. She just
didn't recognize it as hers. Not at that time.
As odd as it might sound, what
bothered her in that few seconds, was that this spitting image of her had used
the word "fuck" so casually. She didn't bandy that word around. In
fact, she tried not to curse at all. Craig did it all the time, and she thought
it made him sound coarse and uneducated. Perhaps it was that feeling that
caused her to speak herself.
"Don't curse," she
admonished her image.
What she heard, vibrating through
the bones of her skull, was not her voice.
It was too deep.
Much too deep.
That was what caused her to lift her
hand and look at it.
It wasn't her hand.
It was a male hand, attached to a
male arm, a muscled male arm. She leaned over and frantically looked at the
rest of her body.
It was also a male body, wearing
Craig's T shirt and running shorts.
What's more, there was a huge bulge in the front of the shorts.
Those muscular, big, male hands went
to the elastic waistband of the shorts and pulled it outwards.
She found herself staring at an
erect, undeniably male, human penis.
That was when she screamed.
When Craig woke up, he felt too
light. That was the first thing he noticed. The second thing was when he moved
his head, and found that, somehow, overnight, his hair had grown a foot or two.
That was bad enough, but when he looked down at all that hair, spilling down
off his shoulder onto his chest, he saw what looked for all the world like ...
He lifted his hands to feel them,
and saw slim, beautiful fingers. The nails had pink fingernail polish on them,
and were long and pointed. They continued, even as he goggled, to cup, squeeze
and move the bulges on his chest around.
He could feel those hands. What
freaked him out the most, though, was when, perhaps unconsciously, his male
mind did what his male body liked to do whenever possible. It moved those
fingers to find, and then squeeze the area where, in theory, nipples might be.
And when he did, the electric
sensation that shot from the tips of ... somehow his breasts ... streaked
to his groin.
"What the fuck?!" he said.
Except that it wasn't his voice. It
was a girl's voice.
He got it first. He realized that,
somehow, overnight, he had become a girl.
"What the fuck?!" he gasped.
He stood, and the message his brain
sent to his legs was calculated to lift his normal 180 pounds out of the chair.
Except his new body only weighed 115 pounds, and his feet left the ground. It
was aided by a male yell, right next to him. It was a sort of
"Auuuugh!" that croaked, rather than issued smoothly from the throat.
In a panic, he turned to see who had
yelled, and things got ultimately weird.
He stared at himself, standing up
and almost falling into the fire.
"What's going on out
there?" came a plaintive call from inside the family tent.
Craig looked at the tent. He didn't
have enough information yet. Something was terribly wrong. He was pretty sure
he was hallucinating, for some reason. But he knew he needed help. He didn't like
"I think I'm sick," he called out.
Again, it wasn't his voice. In the
hallucination, when he spoke, it was with the voice of whoever's body he found
himself in. A female body! This was one weird dream.
"What's wrong?" That was
his mother's voice.
"I think I'm having a bad
dream," he said, listening closely to his voice.
"Why did Craig yell?"
asked his mother.
"I told you," he said.
"I think I'm having a nightmare or something."
"Not you, Carly," said his
mother's voice. "I heard Craig yell. What's going on out
That was the first inkling that
Craig had that the body he found himself in ... was his sister's body.
Carly was so shocked by the sound of
the "scream" she'd produced that she just froze in place. She'd
expected, on some unconscious level, to hear a high-pitched squealing kind of
noise. You know what I'm talking about. Everybody has heard girls scream. Under
the right circumstances, it can sound a lot like a pack of coyotes howling. Or
the other way around. Whatever.
But what she heard was like the
sound a scared boy might produce.
"What's going on out
there?" came a plaintive call from inside the family tent.
She looked over at "herself.” That image called out, "I think I'm sick."
"What's wrong?" That was
her mother's voice.
She watched herself say, "I
think I'm having a bad dream."
"Why did Craig yell?"
asked his mother.
That caused her to think about where
Craig was. She looked around as her doppelganger said, "I told you. I
think I'm having a nightmare or something."
"Not you, Carly," said her
mother's voice. "I heard Craig yell. What's going on out
She looked at her hands again. The
left one was wearing Craig's favorite ring, a silver skull that she thought was
She remembered the bright light.
While Craig was realizing he was in
his sister's body, his sister was realizing that she was in her brother's body,
and that somehow, that bright, white light was responsible for it.
She looked over at her body.
"Craig?" she said, with
her male voice ... Craig's voice?
He stared at her.
"Who the fuck are you?" he
"What is going on out there?" There
was rustling in the tent.
"I think I'm ... you," she
said. "And I think you're ... me."
He looked at his hands and arms. His
hands went to her breasts, the one's he suddenly had.
"What the fuck?"
"Will you stop saying
that?" she hissed.
"This can't be real."
"I'm coming out there!"
came the strident voice of their mother. "You two had better have a good
reason for making all this racket. You know, some people might still be
trying to sleep."
Carly stepped carefully towards her
double. Her muscles felt all wrong. She was too heavy. It took concentration to
make things work so she didn't stumble or fall down.
She didn't understand how all
this had happened, but her mind was acknowledging what had happened. Somehow,
her consciousness had been transferred into her brother's brain, while his had
moved to her brain. Except she was thinking with her brain, so that wasn't it. Their
brains hadn't switched. There were no scars on her clone's forehead ... on her
forehead. She struggled with the concept that she wasn't looking at someone
who looked like her. She was looking at ... herself!
She had no idea how this had
happened, except that it had to have something to do with that white light. Her
normal, teenage mind, however, instinctively assumed that, somehow, she was
going to be in trouble for all this when her parents found out.
"We're okay," she said,
with Craig's voice. "I got a cramp, that's all." She looked at
herself. "I think when I yelled, it scared Carly. I mean it gave her a bad
dream, or woke her up from one or something like that."
"Why are you two up so early in
the first place?" asked her father.
"We were going for a run,"
Their mother came out of the tent. She
looked a trifle sleepy.
"So you got up early to go for
a run, but somehow, Carly went back to sleep and had a bad dream, which you
woke her from by yelling loudly enough to wake the dead. Which, by the way, you
still haven't explained. You two are up to something. I can tell."
Their father came out of the tent,
stretching. There might be some tomfoolery going on, but his priorities were
different than his wife's.
"What's for breakfast?" he
He was no slouch, though, and,
having broached the most important subject, he commented further.
"And why are you kids wearing
the same clothes you had on yesterday? Didn't you bring enough changes? I've
told you time and time again that changing clothes is important when you can't
take a shower every day."
Carly knew that the jig was up. She
had enough on her mind already. Trying to come up with a bunch of lies to
answer her parents' questions was just too much for her to deal with, in the
"I think we fell asleep out
here last night," she said.
"You think you slept out
here last night?" Her mother's skepticism was plain to hear. "Are you
two on drugs?" Now there was tragedy in her voice.
"No!" she heard herself
say. She looked at herself. Or at Craig. This was going to get confusing.
"Sit down," she said. "We
have something we need to tell you about."
"Oh my God, Jack, they are high
on drugs!" moaned their mother.
"No we're not," said
Carly. "But you may wish we were when we tell you what happened."
Carly knew they were going to have
to try to explain things. But she didn't have a clue as to how she was going to
do that. She needed more information. The pain in her groin gave her a chance
to delay the inevitable.
"But first, I have to
pee," she said.
"I can tell," said her
father, looking at her hips.
She looked down. That obscene bulge
was still there. She had ... an erection! It was crazy. The term
"morning wood" popped into her mind. Craig had said something about that
sometime in the past. She hadn't understood it then, and she didn't understand it
now, but apparently, that's what she had. She had seen Craig "make
adjustments" to his groin before, moving things around so they weren't so
noticeable. Boys got boners all the time, and Craig was no different.
She stared at the bulge again. The
tip of "her" penis was pressed tightly against the cloth. It looked
disgusting. Intuitively, she realized that, if she lifted the thing upwards, at
least it wouldn't stick out quite as much.
She reached into Craig's shorts and
gingerly grasped Craig's penis with thumb and one finger. She could feel it,
though, and she realized that thinking about that penis as "Craig's"
was wrong. It was hers now.
That was pretty disgusting too.
"Craig!" barked their
mother. "Have a little tact, please!"
Carly looked up to see that her
mother had observed her handling her penis.
"Sorry," she croaked. She
looked over at her body. "Carly has to pee too," she said,
meaningfully, looking at herself. Or at him. This was going to be confusing. "Don't
you ... Carly? Don't you need to go to the bathroom?"
She watched "her" head
turn, and "her" hands came up to lift "her" hair and look
at it. They clumsily tossed it over her shoulder. His shoulder.
This was already confusing.
"We'll tell you all about it when we get back," she said. "Come on, Jewels." She used his pet name for her, based on her
middle name, which was Jewel. She secretly loved that nickname, but publicly
complained about it. She had known that, if she complained, he'd keep using it.
He had, and she did now.
"I'm not -" He made her
voice sound reedy. Plus she didn't want him to finish that sentence, because
she knew what he was going to say, and if he said it, they'd never get this
chance to talk, to exchange information. To try to figure out how on Earth they
were going to explain all this to their parents.
"Come on!" she blurted,
interrupting him. "Let's go. I'm going to pee your pants if we don't
"What?" Her mother's
surprise was obvious. "What do you mean ... pee his pants?
"I meant he'll pee his
pants," she said, hurriedly. She was going to have to stop thinking about
him as her.
She took his hand, and briefly
marveled at how big her hands were now. She was also surprised at how soft his
hands felt. Her hands.
This was impossible!
Neither of them saw the look that Fran
and Jack exchanged, as their children moved off, hand in hand. It was a look
every parent would have recognized, that look parents give their children when
it's obvious something strange is going on, but you haven't figured out what
that is yet.
Carly waited until they were out of
"We've switched bodies
somehow," she whispered urgently.
"That can't be," he said.
"Look at us!" she
He looked at her. She knew he was
seeing his own body, as if in a mirror. Except he was holding his own hand.
switch us back!" he
"Don't you think that if I knew
how to do that, I'd have done it already?"
"Well how did this
"Remember that bright light
His sloppy speech sounded strange,
coming from her lips.
"What do you remember after that
light surrounded us?"
He was silent for a couple of
"I can't remember anything
until I woke up."
"Me either," she said.
It was quiet longer as they both
tried to wrap their minds around things.
"You think we were abducted by
aliens or something? That always involves bright lights."
"In the movies," she said,
"Well do you have a better
"Well, there you go, then. Aliens
abducted us and did experiments on us and switched our minds."
"That can't be
true," she moaned.
"Because if that's what
happened, then I'm going to be stuck in your body forever!"
A silence of at least five seconds
ticked by this time.
"Fuck," he said softly.
"Would you please stop
cursing with my mouth?" she groaned.
"Whatever," he said,
dismissively. "We're fucked, Carly. If we can't figure out a way to change
back, we're just fucked. Those aliens might have abducted us once, but they
don't come back for seconds. Or if they do, it's years and years later, so they
can see how you have progressed."
She started crying, and let go of
the soft hand she already missed having. Her fingers came up to wipe at the
tears spilling out of her eyes.
"Hey! Don't do that!" he
"What?" She sniffled.
"You're making me cry. Don't
make me cry. That's not manly. You're making me look like a wimp."
"We're stuck in each other's
bodies and all you care about is me making your stupid body look like a
"I have a reputation to keep
up," he said, sounding injured.
"No ... I have a
reputation to keep up," she said, her voice gravely. "This is my body
now, and there is no way I'm going to be all macho and strut around like I'm
better than everybody else."
"I don't do that," he
"That's exactly what you
do," she argued. "But not me."
"People will think I'm gay if
you make my body act like you do."
"So maybe you are? Just because
I'm in your body doesn't mean I've stopped liking guys."
"You can't do that," he
said, horrified. "You can't go out with guys while you're in my body. I'd
just die of shame."
"So you're going to give up
girls?" She arched one eyebrow at him.
"No," he said,
automatically. He started thinking about that. "It's different for girls. Girl
on girl is sexy."
She wanted to argue with him, but
her bladder was sounding alarm bells.
"I have to pee!" she
She took off running. By now the bathroom was only fifteen yards away.
She went in the women's side
automatically. She didn't even think about it until she had to negotiate new
ground in actually urinating.
She shut herself into a cubicle and
dropped her shorts as usual. Then things got weird.
Don't roll your eyes. I'm aware
things were already weird. But, up until that time, she had barely touched her
new appendage with her bare hand. And, to be honest, that had been so quick
that it hadn't sunk in yet.
Now, though, she not only had to
touch it, she had to manipulate it. Most of us don't think of
"urination" as anything special, but in Carly's case that first time
of peeing – as a male - was actually a sort of event in her life.
First off, it was long, and thick,
and ... just hard. That alone was fascinating. She found she had to
grasp the thing, to aim it down, lest it just fountain up all over the place. It
felt very weird in her hand. She'd touched a penis before, during a date. She'd
even jacked off the boy, who showed all the signs of not being able to control
his urges. She only did that, though, because she was afraid that if she didn't, he'd force himself on her. She
had never gone out with him again.
But what she'd done then seemed like
a shadowy memory. It had been fast, and furious, so the details were fuzzy. Now
she could almost leisurely inspect a penis. Except that her bladder was killing
Gingerly she aimed it, and tried to
relax. She'd been holding it so long it took her a frustrated minute to get
anything going. At least the relaxing part of things seemed to feel normal.
Once it started, she stared at it in
amazement. The stream was so strong it shocked her. It felt just as good as it had, to do this thing
when she was in her own body, but at the same time things were different. She
could feel the movement of the urine through the penis, which was long
and both soft and rock hard, all at the same time.
She felt splatters on her hand, and
realized it was backsplash. She was horrified. How did boys manage this wild,
Then the stream slowed, and she let
herself relax some more. She inspected her penis. It had a foreskin, which only
let part of the head show. At the tip of that exposed head, her yellow urine
finally came to a halt. Something inside her demanded to be flexed, and when
she did, another spurt was ejected. She could feel the penis getting softer
already, which compounded the relief of having an empty bladder. Now maybe it
would lie down and be good in her pants.
She thought briefly about the
clothes she was going to have to wear from now on.
She decided her brother needed to go
shopping for something decent to add to his wardrobe.
Next door, in the men's side of the
campground restroom, which Craig had also gone into automatically, he went
first to a urinal, and then realized how fruitless that was. Then, once he was
in a stall, he sat, fumbling, trying to figure out what to hold while he peed. There
was nothing. All he could do was sit and hope that the stream went where it was
He looked down at his crotch. Except
it wasn't his crotch. It was his sister's. He was staring at his sister's
pussy! It was incredible.
His complaining bladder finally opened
up, and a yellow stream issued from between fat, closed pussy lips. It felt
almost like it did when he didn't skin his foreskin back before peeing. He
didn't like that feeling, and it made his cock smell bad. He looked at the
lips, thinking he might be able to spread them apart and improve the sensation.
But he couldn't bring himself to
touch that pussy. It was his sister's pussy. He just couldn't think of it any
Not that he was averse to the idea
of seeing her pussy. He'd tried to figure out ways to sneak a peek at
her naked body for years. But she was always covered, either by a towel, or a
robe or PJs or something.
Now he owned her body. But he
still couldn't touch her pussy. His pussy? No way. He just couldn't wrap his
mind around the idea that that was his pussy. He remembered squeezing
the breasts earlier and looked at them. They looked huge, unmanageable, in the
way. On impulse, he lifted his shirt. There was a bra there, which suddenly
intruded on his consciousness. He could feel the bra, stretching tightly around
His hands went to pull, and suddenly
big, white breasts fell free. He stared. They were gorgeous. The nipples were
pink. Fingers went to tease them, and again he felt that twang of sensation run
between those nipples and where the urine was now only dripping.
He realized he'd have to wipe and
got some toilet paper.
It took him a full minute to
actually use it, dabbing it ineffectually, at first, to sop up the remaining
urine between his labia.
Next door, his sister was gingerly
using a piece of toilet paper to dab at the tip of her penis.
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