The story begins

“God, how long do we have to stand outside like this, Sierra?”

“I guess until Daddy or Uncle Joe come and let us out.”

“This is really hurting my pussy,” I said. I had a heavy weight attached by a painful clamp and chain on my labia and nipples. I was standing outside in front of our house, completely naked, with my hands behind my head. The grass had begun itching my feet about an hour ago, and it felt like my clit was going to slide off any time now.

“I think that’s the idea. Why are you getting so uppity? Do you want a man to hear you?” My sister Sierra warned me to watch my tone. “Uppity” is not a word you want to be called when you are a female.

“No, obviously not,” I lowered my voice. “I just don’t understand the point of this exercise? We’re the only girls on the street standing outside naked on a perfectly nice Saturday; the birds are chirping, the sun is shining. Why can’t we just go to the mall and have fun?”

“Because we were born with gashes. If we were born with peckers, we could do what we want when we want,” Sierra told me what everybody was taught from the day we were old enough to talk. Men make rules, and girls make drool. I accept that we are the weaker sex, but why do they have to be so cruel about it?

“I wish they’d just cut my clit off already and be done with it,” I whispered to my sister.

“Don’t say that, Brittany. Your clit is still growing! They aren’t going to harvest it until it’s full and ripe! This may seem cruel, but we have to stretch our pussies and elongate the pussy meat. They sell by volume, and the juiciest ones go for a pretty penny.”

“You are right. Did you see Marsha Stewart’s pussy lips at school?”

“Oh yeah, she has one really long right lip and one short left lip? Cut that pussy off right now!” Sierra made a chop-chop noise. She was holding the same position that I was.

At 16, we’ll lose our clits completely. The butcher shears it off at public auction in a ceremony called the “Harvest,” and then it gets sold. Teen Clit meat is considered one of the tastiest delicacies. I’ve never had it, but I am hoping my parents will take me out to a fancy restaurant so I can try one. It was only a few months away. I’d be losing the wet little nub of joy and shame that nature provided me with. I used to look forward to it, but now I had a wistful sense of anticipation as the date grew near.

“Sure, it is quiet today,” Sierra observed. She was easily bored and didn’t have much of an attention span, but she could stand quietly for hours without complaint.

“Don’t say that,” I warned her that she probably just jinxed us. It was humiliating to have to remain in this position while fully clothed people walked up and down the street. Some people stop and stare, but most people just grin and keep walking when they see young girls getting punished on the lawn. I wasn’t used to it, but ever since I turned 14, it seemed like I was outside like this almost every weekend.

“Hey, Ladies,” A familiar voice called out to us in the distance. I rolled my eyes as my brother Charlie laid down his huffy and approached us from the driveway.

“You should pick up your bike before Daddy backs out of the garage and drives over it, Charlie,” I warned.

“You sound a little uppity, sis,” Charlie likes to lord the fact he was born with a penis over me. He’s only 13, so he doesn’t have the same authority as an adult male does, but he likes to act like he does.

“Sorry, Charlie,” I apologized.

“You see, I do not believe you are apologizing. Apologizing would mean you are sorry that you said what you did, and then you wouldn’t do it again. You are rolling your eyes, sighing, and talking down to me, Brittany.”

“I am really trying not to, Charlie, but you are a lot shorter than me, “I couldn’t contain my laughter. Sierra almost laughed as well, but she resisted the urge.

“I see you are stretching that little dingle-flap of yours. Does it feel good?” he changed the subject.

“You know it’s not supposed to,” I assured him that pleasure was the last thing on my mind. If Daddy thought we enjoyed the clit stretcher, he’d find some far less pleasant ways for us to stretch it, I am sure.

He reached down and hovered his hand over my clit. I was big enough to stop him, but I didn’t dare lay hands on my brother. I was so ashamed of my tiny clit. It was like a micropenis that could be pulled out and up at any time, and it gave me so many dirty thoughts of my own pleasure. I wished that I had never been born with one, but I wasn’t entirely certain I was ready to lose it, either.

“Please don’t, Charlie.”

“What would happen if Dad knew you were wet?”

“You know what would happen,” I assured him that it wouldn’t be good for me.

He flicked my clit and played with it. Shame spread across my face. I felt so disgusted that I had to present my clit like this out in the open. It was like I was saying to the world, “Hey, I am a girl! A weak dummy, and my thoughts are ruled by this tiny little switch and gobs of estrogen!”

The more my brother played with my clit, the more my gash stunk like salty tuna fish. It was almost as if nature had designed the female pussy to be the most unpleasant receptacle for the male penis as it possibly could. It was no wonder men preferred to fuck our assholes.

I was so embarrassed by how fishy I was getting. My brother could tell I was getting turned on by his finger, and there was no way I could deny what my body was denying. I just hoped he’d lose interest before I had an orgasm and REALLY got in trouble.

I held my breath and tried to think of math problems, but the mean little fucker knew how to rub the tiny circles that I like. “I am going to tell Dad that you rubbed me if he checks!”

“Do you think he’d believe you?”

There was no chance a man would believe a woman over another male. We are natural liars and manipulators, and that’s why our testimony is automatically dismissed in a court of law unless it can be confirmed by a man.

“I am going to look forward to frying this up and having a big bite on your next birthday!”

I didn’t want to talk. I might groan with pleasure. I grunted and bit my tongue. “Play with Sierra if you need to play with a gash.”

“Brittany!” my sister protested.

“What? It’s not fair. Charlie always picks on me.”

“Life isn’t fair to women,” My twin quoted a proverb our mom usually told us when we made that observation.

“Hey, did you hear that they are having a pet competition at school?”

“I am not going to be your pet, Charlie,” I assured my little brother. I’d never heard of any girls having to serve an underclassman, but they would definitely tease me – especially if it was my little brother. If I was going to be anyone’s pet, it would be a handsome senior.

“No, it’s for parents, and guess what? They are letting GIRLS train their mothers.”

“What? No? They would never let girls do that.”

“I know, crazy, right?”

“Is this some sort of liberal California equal rights bullcrap again?” Sierra asked. She hated the feminist revolutionary movements. They had largely been driven underground over the last forty years -kind of a boogeyman to scare people with.

“No, they think it’s more humiliating for the mother if she has to obey a girl in public!”

“Well, it would be,” Sierra admitted. She clenched her ass cheeks and stared straight ahead. An old man on a bike rode by and waved at us.

“Nice titties,” he smiled.

Our tits were still sprouting and had become rather puffy. When we get older, they’ll inject us with estrogen and other hormones to make our tits swell up like most grown women. Most men prefer flat chests or little tits like ours because they are less common, but one day I’ll have swollen knockers just like my mother and her mom before her.

“Thank you, Mr. Green!” we waved at him and waited for him to get a good look before continuing our conversation. Charlie was still playing with my clit. Technically, he shouldn’t have been doing that, but I doubted he’d get in trouble, and if I told him, I’d be the one to get in trouble.

“Are you suggesting that one of us could train Mom?” I asked.

“Ooh, I’ve always wanted a puppy!” Sierra licked her lips in anticipation.

“You could ask dad. Maybe he’ll let one of you decide what Mom will be!”

“Does Mom know this is happening?”

“Why would she need to know in advance?” he asked.

“That’s true. I’d love to do this. I think Mom would actually be into it.”

“Oh, I almost forgot. You ladies wanted me to pick up my bike,” my brother observed condescendingly. Getting called a “Lady” is an insult because it means you are persnickety, nag, and put on airs, but my brother has been calling my twin sister and me a lady pretty much since he popped out of my mom’s gash.

“I didn’t mean to nag you, Charlie. I was just worried about your personal property,” I assured him as I looked straight ahead. If truth be told, I was a natural worrier and nagger.

“Oh sure, I believe you, Sis. You never lie!” he teased me as he walked his bike over to where we stood in the yard.

“Please don’t be mad, Charlie.”

“Why would I be mad? just because you gave me a fish finger and tried to tell me what to do with my bike?” Charlie sounded a little menacing as he got behind us. I knew what was coming next. He’s obsessed with girl butts, and he was probably going to do something to ours.

He wedged his tire between my legs. “Have a seat, Sis,” he said as he parked the tired under my legs.

“I really must stand, Charlie!” I insisted. My brother placed his hands on my shoulders. I am a little taller than him and only stronger because I am a few years older. I didn’t dare resist when he guided me down. I bent my knees and allowed him to wedge his front tire between my sweaty ass crack. I knew that was what he wanted to do. It was painful to crouch slightly and uncomfortable to have to set my labia and anus on rubber, but I would get in trouble if I complained and gave him a hard time.

“How does that feel?” he asked.

“A bit like it would feel for you if you had to sit on a hot bike with your bare butt hole.”

“You have such a pretty poop chute,” he admired our bottoms. It’s polite when a man pays you a compliment that you have to thank him - no matter how vulgar. I had never seen mine, but I knew it was stinky and tasted a little salty. I wondered what could fascinate my brother so much about my little brown stain maker.

“Thank you, Charlie,” I said.

“I was talking to Sierra,” he said as he pulled her cheeks apart and had a much better look.

“Thank you, Charlie, that’s nice of you to say!”

“We’re twins, identical in every way, though, so technically, if you like hers, then you’d like mine.”

He pulled the bike out of my crack after letting go of my sister’s butt. Then he pulled my cheeks apart, bent over, and had a long sniff. I am sure I was sweaty. My ass was itchy from standing outside in the sun.

“There is no difference between the smells coming out of a boy’s ass and that of girls; we’re just as raunchy,” I assured him that I wasn’t a bouquet of roses.

He placed a finger on my delicate butthole and rubbed it around, itching it, and then made me sniff my own vulgar scent. He did the same thing to my sister with his other finger and made me sample the smell of her ass as well. “If you are identical, why don’t your tooters make the same smell?” he asked.

“I don’t know, Charlie,” I sighed.

He wiped his dirty finger just under my nose so that my scent would linger. I was positive he did the same to Sierra. “It’s something for you to ponder the next time you are in Science class ... oh that’s right, you don’t learn science do you?”

“No, girls aren’t taught Science, Charlie,” I agreed. It was something that my brother reminded me of several times. I made the mistake of thinking that there was a science class for girls last year and bragged that I was in it. It was just a cooking class that dealt with the female anatomy - slicing tits, slicing asses, slicing off noses, and how to prepare girl meat for roast.

“Maybe I should get your dunce caps from in the house.”

“I think Daddy wants us completely naked, Charlie,” I explained politely. I knew my brother was going to get them anyway, but I felt like I had to remind him of the rules. The rules don’t really apply to boys the way they do to girls.

I was already humiliated to be presented naked to my neighborhood. The fact that my brother could invade even my darkest, dirtiest body parts was another source of embarrassment. There were some families that I was told would frown on boys picking on their sisters, but Dad says that boys will be boys and that we have to just suck it up.

My brother made two paper hats shaped like cones for us with the word “Dunce” written on them. They were our birthday present last year. He loves to make us wear them out of the house. Sierra doesn’t mind and even thinks it’s pretty much applicable. I like to imagine that somewhere there is an alternate reality where people wouldn’t think this is totally normal. Girls are dumb, but not all of us are incapable of normal thinking. There are a few of us who could probably perform some of the jobs that men can do.

I was convinced I could train my mother into a proper Pet. That was a task normally reserved for males! I focused on that while my brother planted my “Dunce” cap on my head.

“Sing, I am a little Dunce-face, and my brother is the best.”

“Yes, Charlie. If that’s what you want to hear,” my sister began to sing. She sings off-key, but she tries. My brother wrote several humiliating songs for us to sing to him while we bathed him when he was much younger.

My mother insisted that we memorize them because he took the time to write them. My least favorite is “Farty-Farty-Ding-Dong,” so I considered myself lucky to get off with a rendition of “I am a little Dunce Face.”

We both have to sing our names at the start, but the rest of the words are the same for us both. My sister and I have a tough time keeping harmony together.

“Oh, My name is Brittany Davidson, and I am Charlie’s stupid annoying sister! My gash smells like fish, and my farts smell like turds. I am a little dunce-face-short and stout. Spit in my face and wash me out. My name is Brittany Davidson and I am dumb. Look at my ugly face, and pull out my tongue,” it’s at that point my sister and I are supposed to stick out our tongues and wiggle them around.