Chapter 3

“Why did you not release Brittany from her punishment?” Uncle Joe asked my brother with a look of concern on his face.

“She got to close her mouth, so that’s good enough for now, isn’t it?” Charlie seemed to feel it was fair to leave me with the Q tip in my pee hole because he ended a single punishment for my sister and I both. It actually made sense, but I didn’t like it.

“She hasn’t eaten lunch, and it’s already nearly five PM. I presume you didn’t piss or shit while you were standing outside?” he asked me.

I scrunched my nose in disgust and told him I hadn’t.

“Good girl for holding it, but don’t make that face again unless you want me to make it stay that way. It’s very ugly, and ugly girls can’t get a man, can they?”

“No, sir.”

“What are you on a scale of one to ten, Brittany?”

“The headmaster at my school rated me a six, Sir.”

“That’s not official, is it? Do you know what’s sexier to me than just appearance? Obedience. Even an old hag that nobody wants like your mom is valuable to me because she LISTENS and does what she is told. What are you, Betty?”

“A two, Sir,” My mom croaked the words as if they burned her lips.

“A two? That’s generous. What were you when you married Eddie?”

“A nine, Sir!”

“Back then, I doubted you could count to nine! You were so dumb that I didn’t think you’d know how to raise children. You’ve managed to raise two sour-faced, ungrateful bimbos in training and one fine lad. Congratulations,” he said.

“Thank you, Joe,” my mom politely accepted his praise despite the insults he gave us as her daughters.

“You may be a six, and that’s not bad because the scale these days is very competitive. Only the most beautiful women are selected to be a ten. They would have been called beauty queens and models in ancient times when we used to allow women to have their vanities. Now, we just have a ranking system that considers your outer appearance. A small fraction of women will ever be a nine in their prime, and you may blossom!”

“Beauty is fleeting – all of you bitches are so vain. Men value beauty, but we also value obedience. Learn to obey, learn to care what your man wants and needs, and do that. Learn to amuse him, entertain him, feed him, clean for him, have his babies and keep his house. Then it doesn’t matter if you are a six. However, if you walk around questioning everything and scrunching your nose because someone asked you if you took a shit on the lawn? Bimbette was a lovely girl, well trained, absorbed pain well, very fuckable. In the end, she was alone, and no one watched her final harvest but me and the butcher. I sold her meat and didn’t even eat it.”

That was a very petty thing to do. Every girl is raised to believe that the best thing she can do is go out with a very entertaining execution, and then her family has an after-party with some of her meat. There are some families in the country that even butcher their own women and eat the meat all year long.

It feels like a tremendous waste to have lived an entire lifetime only to have your meat go to someone else without anyone in your family getting some. I would hate that. If I am going to get killed and butchered, I’d like to make it something entertaining, and I’d prefer my family to dine on me.

“I am sorry to hear that. Did she know you wouldn’t eat her?”

“Oh yes, I warned her just like I am warning you. Stop being a selfish little cunt. Now, ask your brother NICELY if he will remove the Q-tip catheter and stick it in your mouth to suck on.”

I winced a little because that seemed unnecessarily cruel.

“Charlie, I am sorry for the many times I pissed you off. I am glad you learned that when I do in the future, you’ll know what to do about it. Would you please remove the Q-tip catheter and stick it in my mouth?”

I asked as politely as I could. A small tear started to form in my eye from the growing sense of humiliation from how much I had to grovel before my younger brother. I’ve begged him before, but for small things like sharing toys or food.

Charlie folded his arms and looked back at the TV. Then he looked at me. “Are you going to piss me off again?”

Charlie could be very temperamental and demanding. I knew I would, at some point, make him angry.

“I don’t want to promise something that I can’t do, Charlie. Only you can decide if I’ve pissed you off, and it’s possible I will. I will try not to now that I know you can punish me and my sister. Will you please take it out and let me suck on it?”

“Why do you want to suck on the Q-tip?”

“Because my Uncle Joe told me to do it,” I replied truthfully.

“You don’t know why you want it, but you just do?” He squatted down in front of my pussy and looked inside me. I held myself as wide and open as I could so he could see the tip. It was still so painful.

“That’s good, Charlie. If Brittany thought she knew why I wanted her to do it and told you, that would mean she is getting uppity. It’s enough that she knows I want it, and she asked for it,” Joe said. I was grateful that I answered the way my Uncle wanted me to respond.

He pulled the swab out, rubbed it around my labia, and then handed it to me. I put it in my mouth and sucked the foul pissy odor.

“You know why I wanted you to ask to suck on it?”

“No, Uncle Joe,” I admitted and asked why.

“I want you to stop asking why all the time. Men wonder why, and we discover the reasons. That’s not the place of women. You don’t NEED to know why. You need to do as you are told so that men can make great discoveries. There is no great nation, no great building, no great invention that was created by a woman. They have stood behind great men, and even average men – who are still better than the greatest women. You exist to serve us. Now, beg your brother to allow you to let go of our filthy cunt flaps because the stink is making me crave tuna fish.”

“Charlie, may I let go of my cunt flaps?” I asked my brother.

He’s seen inside me many times, but it sounds like now he can tell me to hold myself open.

“I suppose so,” Charlie shrugged. Sierra was pleased for me and smiled.

“Thank you, Charlie,” I said as I let my hands go. My cunt flaps were inflamed and sore from the stretching, but they are resilient and would be fine when the swelling went down.

“Now, come around behind Sierra and pop the Q-tip out. Give it a quick twist and hard a yank,” Uncle advised our brother on what to do next.

Charlie grabbed the Q-tip glued in my sister’s butt firmly and gave it a yank.

“OW!” Sierra said. The elasticity of her anal ring expanded and closed back up when he gave it a tug and failed to pull it out.

“Harder, boy. Pull it like you own that Q-tip, and you want it back before she fouls it more with the shit bobbing in her ass!”

My brother used some effort, and my sister cried out again but was grateful the Q-tip had been removed and thanked him. “May I suck on it, Charlie?”

That seemed disgusting, and my Uncle hadn’t even told her to ask to suck on her Q-tip. Charlie was pleasantly surprised and stuffed it in my sister’s mouth like it was a cherry-flavored lollipop.

“Sierra, why did you ask your brother if you could suck on the Q-tip?” our Uncle asked her.

“I am sorry, Sir! You didn’t tell me to ask,” my sister looked worried. She was still holding her ass cheeks. “I heard you tell Brittany to do it and thought you’d want me to do it too!”

“The only real use for a woman’s brain, and probably the only reason we don’t just lobotomize you and be done with trying to talk to you morons, is to THINK about what we want and anticipate it. Well done, Sierra.”

Sierra clearly didn’t fully understand what our Uncle was trying to tell her, but she was so happy to get an accolade that it didn’t matter. She was happy – blissful almost. It didn’t take much to please my sister.

She continued to stand there sucking the Q-tip that had been in her butt and holding her ass, with a dumbfounded expression on her face.

“Did you have anything else you wanted to ask your brother?” my mom finally prompted her.

“Oh yeah!!” Sierra giggled excitedly. “Why does this taste like hot wings?”

“No, you lazy little twat. No one cares to hear what your dirty ass tastes like. You have chores to perform, but your hands are full. What do you need to ask your brother?” my mom was growing annoyed.

“Oh yes, may I go perform my chores, Charlie?”

Charlie took pity on our sister. He sighed and said, “Take your hands off your ass cheeks, Sierra.”

“Oh, yeah,” Sierra giggled even harder when she realized she had grown accustomed to airing out her cooter by holding her cheeks spread. “It feels really good to let go,” She smiled sweetly.

“Your brother can now Q-tip the both of you when you misbehave. This will help you curb your attitude and help him learn to be a better brother and a man. It’s very simple; you’ll learn the hard way that if you don’t want to be Q-tipped, then behave yourself and be good girls. It’s incredibly shameful seeing you both have to endure the same lessons I had as a little girl. I thought I raised you better than that!”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I shrugged.

“If we have on clothes, Can Charlie still Q-tip us?” I asked. I assumed “Q-tip” was a verb in this context that meant jabbing a cotton swab in one of our orifices.

“How would he get the Q tip into our cunts or asses?” Sierra looked at me as if I was really dumb.

“I meant at school when we wear clothes, for instance. Can he make us undress to receive punishment?”

My mom seemed confused. “I don’t know. Joe? What do you think?”

“I think for now, it’s only when you are already naked, but if Charlie has a good enough reason, he can ask me or his father,” My uncle said.

I was thankful for his caution. I could picture Charlie really taking advantage of the new rule and making me strip all the time.

“You should probably allow Charlie to Q-tip you when you are naked, too, Betty,” Charlie suggested.

“I am his mom!”

“So? He’d be allowed to do far more when he is a few years older,” Charlie shrugged like it was no big deal. Charlie ordered my mom around the house like most boys do, but it was just for mundane things like bringing him a drink or a pair of his favorite shoe.

“He’s just not old enough. I’d be the laughing stock of the neighborhood if they knew my 13-year-old son was Q-tipping me for flatulence.”

“Simple solution, if you don’t want to be Q-tipped, then do not misbehave,” Charlie grinned wickedly.

My mom appeared annoyed. “You can ask your father, and if he says you can Q-tip me, then that’s fine. but I never fart around you, Charlie. I wouldn’t do that.”

“Will you queef on command?” he asked.

“Of course,” my Mom made a blurring noise with her pussy, which was pretty funny sounding.

“Do it again,” Charlie said playfully.

“But,” my mom queefed up a beefy pussy-fart, and we laughed. She sneered at us for laughing at her. She told us to go put on our house coats and get started on the house chores. “Do the kitchen first so that I can start preparing dinner. You can wash your uncle’s car after dinner, and if there is time, you can get a head start on the hedges.”

“Yes, Ma’am, can we use the bathroom and have something to eat first?” I asked.

“Lazy, lazy, lazy, lazy! You have a thousand excuses to stall and waste daylight. Fine, you can both use the bathroom, but don’t bother with your house coats. You’ve spent the day nude; you may as well finish it bare-ass. We’ve seen more of you today than I care to, anyway. You can have five minutes each. Sierra goes first. Brittany, you can make yourselves a cheese sandwich while your sister takes her turn.”

“Thank you, Mom,” I said.

Most people have a “Woman’s Toilet” in their house. It’s an exposed toilet in a common area like the kitchen or living room for women to go pee and poop. I used to think that it was out there so we wouldn’t be tempted to try to lollygag in the bathroom or masturbate. It’s funny because we still call the act of using the woman’s toilet “Going to the bathroom.”

I suppose it’s a bit like saying, “Roll down the windows” in the car, except there is no roller – only a button to press that automatically closes and opens the windows.

However, my sister and I take showers in the bathroom, and all we have to do is leave the bathroom door open so people can check on us and make sure we aren’t doing anything we shouldn’t be doing. We just don’t actually “use the bathroom” in the bathroom – I know it sounds silly.

The “Men’s toilet” is in the bathroom, and of course, men close the door when they piss and shit, so they can enjoy some peace and quiet. I once touched it and discovered that it has a seat that goes up and down.

The woman’s toilet only has a seat that doesn’t rise. I still don’t know why anyone would need a seat that can be lifted on a toilet. There is an old myth that, at one-time, people had Co-ed toilets in their homes that could be used by both men and women.

I wouldn’t even DARE sit on a man’s toilet. It looks so regal and comfortable. They also have a handle to flush the toilet manually.

Our toilet is set to automatically flush a minute after the timer dings unless another woman sits before it flushes. We are taught not to waste water on unnecessary flushes. My sister and I are usually permitted to go one after another and then my mom finishes by flushing after the three of us have emptied our assholes into the toilet. It seems to amuse Charlie, and recently it’s started to be very embarrassing when he laughs after I make a stinky.

My sister sat on the women’s toilet in our kitchen. It’s very small, basically like a bucket that can flush. I could hear her pee stream as I made a cheese sandwich for my sister and me to enjoy.

I’ve been taught to cook since an early age. It’s one of the main skills every girl should have to get a man. My mom even lets me make food unsupervised. Most girls my age aren’t allowed to cook without the supervision of a man to make sure that we don’t “Graze” and snack on food we weren’t allowed to eat.

We have a standard fridge that you would find in almost every household. It’s divided up into “Women’s Food” in the unrefrigerated section and “Men’s Food” in another. That way, we know what we are allowed to eat.

Most of what I eat is gruel – cold, hot, or “Cheese” flavored gruel. I also get to eat some veggies and cheese sandwiches – plain white bread with a slice of cheese. Our weight is carefully monitored. Nobody wants a “Fatty,” but when we are harvested, they try to maximize our calories, and our work is reduced so that we can provide more meat.

The men’s food is quite a bit more diverse and includes meat with almost every meal. Beer, breast milk cheese, and smoked girl jerky are always well stocked and have their own dedicated bins. Men can drink beer at 16, but women are forbidden from drinking alcohol. We get too horny and think only of our own pleasure and not those we are supposed to be pleasuring.

Uncle Joe says that

It looked like dinner was going to be delicious tonight for the men, based on what my mom was thawing. I brought my sister a cheese sandwich she could finish while she sat on the toilet.

There is a timer on the side, and it’s set automatically for 5 minutes. We just have to hit the red button. It triggers a record in the log so that flushes can be compared to the water bill. Too many flushes and all the women will pay regardless of who did it.

Some families give the girls unlimited time on the toilet, but most would never think of letting them have a manual flusher. That’s really spoiling them. A minute is barely enough time to wipe your cunt and asshole, but if I had unlimited time, I’d probably be tempted to play with myself if I thought I could get away with it. I might also flush more than once if the waste didn’t all go down on the first flush.

My sister farted while going poop as I approached her and giggled at the sound her ass made. “Will Charlie Q-tip me if he hears me rip one on the toilet?” she asked.

The kitchen table was right by the women’s toilet, and my brother might just do that. I wasn’t sure – it’s hard to predict men.

“I hope not,” I said as I stood and ate my sandwich. I am not permitted to sit on furniture when I am naked. Even though my chair is wooden, It’s better to just stand and eat.

DING!

My sister popped off the toilet, and three small sheets of 1-ply toilet paper automatically dispensed from the toilet. In the men’s bathroom, they have an UNLIMITED roll of toilet paper, and it feels SO soft. It must be heavenly to wipe with 6-ply toilet paper. I can see why they don’t let women have unlimited toilet paper. I’d be tempted to pull dozens of sheets off and wrap my entire hand in it just to wipe my ass one time.

Sierra stood and began wiping her pussy front to back and her ass while folding the paper into tiny squares. My brother usually comes in to watch. I am not sure why our bodily excretions fascinate him. He does it, too – just in the privacy of his own bathroom.

He rarely missed an opportunity to observe us doing this humiliating activity – almost every day. He walked in after he heard the ding and sat at the table so he could watch her wipe. He faced us while seated at the table and smiled like we were his new television set and his favorite program was on.