Chapter 15

“Let Brittany finish first,” Reese had the audacity to address me by my first name. Brittany was what I was supposed to be called by everyone now, but I felt it was disrespectful for my son to address me that way. I know it sounds hypocritical that I would let Julie address me by my first name but I felt like the rules were different for my sons.

“You don’t have the right to call her Brittany. She’s mom to you,” Julie insisted adamantly.

“She’s not the boss of me now, though, right? It’s not like Brittany can punish me. Didn’t you say that would be coercive? Like a referee who can be fired by the guy at bat because he didn’t like the call they made?”

“Yes, I remember when YOU made that analogy, but it doesn’t apply. I am the one in the Program, and I am the Trainer. If you don’t want to piss her off, don’t make Reasonable Requests,” Julie was firm on this with her brother.

I continued thumbing my butt because I wasn’t aware I was supposed to time myself. I was also thinking about my next words carefully. I had passed the point of no return with my boys. They were questioning my authority. What I said next might tip their opinions one way or the other. I smiled because I was so embarrassed that I didn’t know what else to do. I thought about it my moment of outrage passed. Reese had some audacity to address me by my first name, but everyone else could.

I remembered what Ms. Collins said about limits. She said if it’s just an icky feeling of discomfort it isn’t a limit. It was just a name, after all.

“Actually, I don’t mind if they call me Brittany. That’s all. I am not, not Brittany Garner. It’s up to you, though, Julie.”

“Really?” Reese was excited. He looked excitedly at Julie for approval.

Julie looked back at me with an arched eyebrow. She was less enthusiastic when she asked me to confirm if I meant it. “Really?” she asked.

“Yeah, I don’t mind. I’ll have a pet name soon, and I’ll need to get used to it. All of the other Trainers and Breeders call me just plain old Brittany. The NIS coordinator calls me Brittany. I don’t mind if the boys do.”

“Me too?” Dewey asked enthusiastically.

“Nope,” I continued to masturbate my asshole, and it got a little easier with time as it stretched. I was doing what I considered to be an impossibly nasty thing around my sons and it didn’t feel as humiliating as letting Dewey address me by my first name. I know that sounds weird, but it’s true.

“Okay, Brittany, it’s been longer than a minute,” Julie said, and I withdrew my thumb. She said she’d think about their request and asked Reese to give me a short reasonable request. Her plan was to give them an opportunity to get it out of their system and see that it wasn’t taboo. I had performed several requests in the hallways of their school and they could have seen me do them at any time if they happened to walk past us at the time.

I was no different than any other Breeder in that regard. I was glad we were just getting this out of the way now and addressing it.

“Well, first, a question. Do you ever have poop on your thumb after you do Fudge?” Dewey asked.

I blushed and froze. That was a disgusting thought. “I haven’t seen any,” I replied as the color drained from my face while I imagined having a dirty thumb. I knew part of the Program wasn’t just doing requests. It was answering questions about sexuality, the way the request made me feel and the body.

“Okay, my Request is for you to suck your thumb for a minute.”

Dewey made a sound like he was equally disgusted and impressed, the way he did when Reese or Jim lit up the room with a loud fart.

“What? If there is no poop on there, why would you mind?” Reese was kind of being a smart-aleck.

Julie glared at him as if scolding him with her eyes. “Fine, do it, but you can drive while you suck, Brittany.”

It was so brazen to use the word “Suck.” I sat down in my car naked. I could feel the sploosh of my wet pussy on the seat cushions. I began to suck my thumb and drive until I reached the street just outside of the school and pulled over.

“Why are you stopping here?”

“So, you can change,” I reminded her, recalling that the day before, my daughter had insisted on changing as soon as she was off school grounds.

“Oh, that’s fine, I’ll ride naked.”

“Nice paint job,” Reese teased his sister about the body paint that she still wore.

“Thanks, Scro!” Julie teased her brother right back by calling him a name that meant “Balls.” She’d been calling her little brother “Scro” for years. It was a term of endearment at this point.

“I bet Dad is going to love it!” He reminded her that Jim probably would NOT love the obscene painting on his daughter’s body. I could definitely picture it causing a scene. I was so thankful that I didn’t have any on me. The last thing I wanted to see was Jim arguing with Julie for any reason. He could be unreasonable, and she could be stubborn when she felt she was right.

Julie ignored his comment and told him. “You know, you could try being nice and supportive. This is new for Mom and me.”

“I thought her name was Brittany!” he countered.

“It is for me; I haven’t decided if you can call her that.”

Today, I had to get gas on the way home. It was a normal, mundane task that I never thought much about. However, I did not have my credit card with me. I didn’t have any pockets at all. “I have to get gas, Julie.”

“Okay, you have my permission,” she decided.

“I don’t have any way to pay for it,” I responded. I didn’t bring my credit cards or even my ID.

“Well, you could work for it,” Reese made a salacious joke that suggested I turn tricks to earn the money. I think the joke went over Dewey’s head completely. Sex work was completely legal, and I’ve seen homeless women do just that at gas stations. I knew that Reese was obviously being facetious.

“Yeah, Mom could try to get a job at the gas station! She’d work there butt naked! No uniform!” Dewey giggled. The others ignored him.

I remembered my earlier decision about “going past the point of no return” with my sons. They had already seen me nude and knew my relationship with Julie was that of Trainer and Breeder. They knew I had to perform requests and everyone called me Brittany. There was no hiding any of that now. It was to be 24 hours a day. There was no turning it off when I got home.

Reese would NEVER have made a comment suggesting I earn the money with sex work before I started the Program. Even though I knew he was joking, I realized now he thought it was okay to joke that I may suck a dick like a hooker from Downtown on Wright Avenue to pay for our gas.

“Don’t worry, I got you,” Brittany had her own credit card in her backpack. She didn’t have a job, and the only money she had was from birthdays and odd jobs.

“I can’t ask you to use your money,” I told her.

“You aren’t asking. I am telling you. Pull into the gas station and let me pay, Brittany. You’ll pump,” she added firmly.

I smiled to myself and found the nearest gas station. It was fairly busy because people were starting to leave work around the time that school ended. It was surprising to me that we still called it a “Gas Station.” It had been 20 years since the government banned the sale of “gasoline.”

It was probably the same reason we still called it “rolling down the window,” even though we pressed a button. I remember my grandparents telling me that they had a hand crank in the early 1970s that they had to actually roll in a circular motion to make the windows go down.

I popped out of the car when I found an open refueling station. People’s heads instantly turned to look at me like I was some kind of circus freak. It wasn’t illegal for me to be nude in public, but it was quite rare for anyone to do it in this part of town. I am sure the fact that I had a collar around my neck with a lead hanging from it also made me stand out.

I smiled back at the strangers staring at me from their cars and plugged the charger into my car. I thought about it and realized that we still called it “pumping,” but all I was doing was attaching a charger to the fuel cell. My daughter got out and tapped her card. There were a few wolf whistles, and a guy in a lawn care truck stopped to look at us both.

“Take a picture. It will last longer!” Julie fired back at him, and the guy called her a bitch and drove away.

She paid for it. I promised I would pay her back.

“Oh, you will, Brittany, you already are,” she smiled at me as we got back in the car. The fueling transfer process only took a few moments and we were back on the road.

Dewey must have read what was painted on his sister’s butt.

“What’s double fudge?” he asked.

“You have been in High School for almost a week, and you don’t know what double fudge is?” Reese scoffed at his little brother’s lack of awareness of what was almost universally understood as a very standard textbook reasonable request at the school. “Haven’t you seen anyone ask for it?”

“I’ve been focused on my classes,” Dewey shrugged.

“It’s when you request to put your thumb in a participant’s butt instead of them doing it and showing you, Dewey,” Julie explained patiently.

“I thought it was maybe where you put BOTH thumbs in your own butt!” Dewey held up his thumbs.

I chuckled. My youngest seemed naïve, but at the same time, he obviously had some very normal dirty thoughts for a boy his age.

“Will you guys do double fudge for me when you get out of the car?” Dewey asked excitedly.

“Sorry, I am off the clock, it’s 5pm for this butthole, and it’s just an exit, not an entrance, until tomorrow morning at school,” Julie grinned before asking him. “You sure you want to do double fudge to Mom?”

I cringed at the thought of my baby boy sticking his finger in my butthole.

“I wanted to see YOU double fudge Mom, and her double Fudge YOU back!” Dewey countered.

I was shocked at how brazen my son had become about his requests.

“Fine, but can we go IN the house first?” Julie said.

“I thought you didn’t mind being naked out in public?” Reese asked my daughter in a tone that suggested she was a hypocrite.

“I don’t, but I have lived in that house my entire life, and we are across from a Church and have neighbors, so rather than just play poop hole whack-a-mole with my mother out on the front lawn and possibly offend them, I am asking if Dewey minds if we go inside?” she answered Reese.

“What if I do mind?” Dewey was just being a little arbitrary and facetious. He wasn’t very serious.

“As what I do on my own time is up to me, and what you do with my Breeder is up to me, then you have to learn about consent. Nobody forced me to say yes to your request. I just told you my concern about the neighbors and the church across the street. Do you still want to see us give each other double Fudge on the lawn?”

“No,” Dewey answered with a reasonable tone. I was pleased by his response because Jen had just taught him a lesson on consent and consideration for other people.

“Good, then when we go inside, and I put my backpack down, I’ll do Double Fudge for you with Brittany,” Julie smiled back at Dewey. I could see that her intention was not to goof on her little brother but to teach him a positive lesson, and that made doing this vulgar activity in front of my boys seem less obscene.

When we pulled into the driveway of our house, I was very glad that my Trainer had decided I didn’t have to perform Double Fudge on the lawn.

Our neighbor Gladys Johnson was outside, watering her flowers. She’s an older neighbor, a gossip, and always in everyone’s business. She lived in her house long before we lived in ours with her husband.

The laws about public nudity allow us to do anything we would do in public schools in public places. Most people didn’t, but in the big cities, I understand they sell dildos on the side of the street, and sex work is pretty common. Brothels are allowed to advertise, and some people work and live naked all the time.

Julie could even walk around with the erotic body paint on her body. That was considered freedom of expression.

In suburban Little Rock, it might be legal, but it wasn’t considered polite or socially acceptable to flaunt it. Technically, we could do anything we wanted on our own property, but I was still concerned about my neighbor’s reaction to my nudity. I could imagine her never talking to me again if I had stuck my thumb in my ass, or at the very least laughing at me and calling me a nasty whore.

“Oh my, why are you naked, Brittany?” the older woman asked as she looked up and shielded her eyes from the sun. She was wearing a pretty straw hat and a white sundress to do her gardening in.

“I volunteered at my daughter’s school to participate in the NIS Program, Emily.”

“The what? Oh, the nudist Program? I can’t believe they allow that in schools.”

“They do,” Julie said. Julie used to babysit Mrs. Johnson’s nephews when they visited, but she didn’t like the older woman very much.

“Well, look at how you have grown,” Emily looked my daughter up and down. “It looks like you have paint all over your body.”

“It washes off,” Julie shrugged and turned to walk to the door.

“Well, I should hope so. I don’t know what being naked can teach you at school. Where would you even put your pencils and paper?” Emily asked.

It was a good question.

“You don’t want to know,” Reese winked and laughed suggestively that we stuck them up our asses.

“No, most of our work in class is digital these days on electronic notebooks that are in the classroom. We have pens and pencils for everyone’s use in every class. If we want to use paper, we can. We are allowed to carry small bags with us around to class for personal items like that,” Julie answered in a very professional manner.

I think it surprised my neighbor that there was a ready answer to that question. We excused ourselves.

My neighbor was fairly stunned by our nudity. I think she would have continued to talk more if she wasn’t tongue tied.

We went into the house. My daughter calmly put away her backpack and asked Dewey if he was ready. Dewey said “Yes!” but then told us to wait. He sat up in his father’s recliner and put his hands behind his head as if he were waiting for his favorite TV Program and told us he was ready.

Julie grimaced and told him this wasn’t a big deal. She pulled her ass cheeks apart, and I put my thumb up her ass. It felt so tight around my finger. I used my other hand to pull my cheeks apart, and she jammed her thumb in my ass and twisted it like she was turning a key in a lock. That made my knees a little weak. Then she started masturbating my butthole by moving it in and out while maintaining eye contact with him.

“Stop looking in my eyes, or you are going to miss this, Dewey,” Julie joked that he was maintaining eye contact.

“Yeah, their buttholes are down here!” Reese was watching from the side, and he stood up and pointed to our asses for comedic effect. It was a play on the old joke about men staring at our tits and not our eyes.

“I can’t help it. You have pretty eyes,” Dewey said.

“Thanks, Dewey. Can we stop now, then?” Julie asked in a tone that suggested what I was doing to her was doing nothing. Meanwhile, I was getting turned on and didn’t want her to stop, even though my sons were watching her touch me.

“I get sixty seconds, right?”

“You get as long as I give you. Double Fudge is usually 60 seconds, but you can ask for longer or shorter periods. If the participant has the time, and no one else is making requests, they will probably give it to you, but at home, this is my own time.”

Dewey may not have heard a word she said. His eyes had drifted to our assholes, and he seemed hypnotized watching me masturbate my daughter’s butt while she did the same to me as we stood almost hip to hip.

Julie let it last probably a little longer than a minute. She withdrew her thumb, and as she did, I heard a sound like “slipptthhhhh” as air pushed out of my asshole. I was mortified. I pulled my finger out of my daughter’s tight, clean butthole, and no noise came out.

“Did you just fart?”

“Air gets packed inside the bowel, and closing it off means it can’t escape, so it was just a little gas escaping, Dewey. It wasn’t a real fart,” Julie explained while trying to make it obvious that she was trying to educate her little brother without talking down to him.

“Can you do double fudge for me next?” Reese asked in a tone that suggested he thought it was only fair he get one more request performed by his sister.

“First of all, I don’t even have to perform requests after school is out, and I am your sister. I CAN choose to do so, but I am off the clock. There are plenty of girls who would love to do Double Fudge with you at school if you are curious,” Julie said as she wagged a finger. She added, “Secondly, there are other requests and questions you guys can ask besides Milk, Milk, Lemonade, and how Fudge is made. You keep focusing on butt stuff. There is more to women than a poop hole. Ask me anything else, and I might do it.”

“It’s kind of hard not to think about double fudge when you have it painted on your butt, Julie,” Reese observed.

Julie smiled as she admired her back in the mirror. She had gone for part of the day around school with that humiliating painting on her back and forgotten all about it. Julie had even spared me the indignity of doing the same. “Fair point,” Julie shrugged and asked if they had something else that they wanted to request because she was tired of talking about girl butts.”