Chapter 25

My daughter and I had a great run with Ms. Collins around our neighborhood. It was Friday night, so there were many more cars and people outside than there had been the previous night. They all got a good look at the two ladies running au natural down the street, and my daughter on her bike.

We must have looked like quite an unlikely sight. My blonde teenage daughter pedaling a bike, a redhead with big fake tits, and a fat ass with short black hair all moving together. I felt privileged to have that time with Ms. Collins. She made a home visit to my house and jogged with me even though she didn’t have to do it.

She was so selfless. I admired her so much.

It wasn’t 1:1 time with the coordinator, but it was close. Julie and I were inseparable now, so it felt like it was 1:1 even though it was the three of us. We talked about a lot of things. I asked her confidentially, “Why do you and Dewey keep talking to each other in that strange way?”

I wanted to know why he came across as her nemesis.

“He’s an interesting student, and part of my role is to have meetings with incoming Freshmen to help them adjust to an environment like ours where sexuality is more open. We had some heated discussions and debates, and I spent much more time with him than I planned because I found the conversation fascinating. We just sort of hit it off.”

I was so proud of Dewey. I was glad there was no real animosity between them.

“What was the hard request that you asked for?” Julie asked about a reference that Dewey made earlier about a Request that must have stuck in Ms. Collins’s craw.

“That’s confidential,” she smiled coyly as she ran without cracking a sweat.

“I’ll just ask Dewey, and he’ll tell me.” My daughter harumphed.

“He might, and that’s his right, but I’ll tell you this much: He challenged my notion of what was reasonable for me, which is a very broad category. There isn’t much I wouldn’t do, short of concerns for the maturity, safety, and health of everyone involved.

I was very intrigued! I also wondered if my son would be giving me that same request sometime soon.

We passed the Church, and on Friday, they had devotional services that were letting out at Sunset. We had a lot of onlookers gawking at us and some yelling curse words at us. It was much easier to handle the disparagement we received from the parishioners with Jen with us. She made it easier for me to just focus ahead on the pavement and my tits bouncing.

After we did two complete laps around the neighborhood, she told me that she’d be introducing leg and arm weights into the mix soon. Then she hugged and kissed us goodbye, got dressed, and in a few moments, her wife stopped and picked her up.

I was very sweaty, but Julie wasn’t when she came back in. Jim was up watching TV instead of porn in his room. He liked to subscribe to trials for Streaming Services with a throwaway email and then cancel them and get them to send him new offers to renew for half off.

“I heard the people cheering and hawing down at the Church every time you guys ran past them. I guess for accepting people, they sure don’t like big-tittied women,” he laughed. Julie sent me to shower and shave my pussy.

When I returned, she was still naked, sitting on the floor at her father’s feet, Indian style, and having a casual talk with him about the Program. It seemed like the two of them were getting along well.

SATURDAY, AUGUST 24, 2047 - AFTERNOON:

It was my first weekend in the Program, and things had gone pretty much the way they always do on the weekends, with the exception that both my daughter and I were nude. I cooked breakfast and kept it warm until everyone got up. They all got up relatively late and ate, then I cleaned up, and everyone sort of went and did their own thing.

It was fairly mundane and routine in our kitchen compared to the last few days. I was happy to have a break. It was just as Ms. Collins had said it would be. Once the family got used to the idea, it didn’t become the focus of everything.

I had to get caught up on house chores. Julie didn’t micromanage me. I just started doing it without asking. Dewey was playing computer games in the living room. I was sweeping up and washing the floors.

“Fudge, please,” he said.

I froze. It was the first request of the day, and I hadn’t expected it. I was in the “Zone” and not really paying attention to anything else as I cleaned and tuned out reality. I was hyper focused on the task at hand. His request snapped right out of that zone. Even though I had done this particular request many times for my son, I still had to have permission.

“You’ll have to ask Julie,” I reminded him that I couldn’t automatically perform requests on my own.

“You go ask her,” Dewey replied without hesitation.

I was confused. I told him that I couldn’t take a request to go ask my daughter a question for approval on a different request.

“Julie said that if we want you to pass the salt and do little things that, you have to do them, so go ask her.”

I didn’t argue. I went to Julie and told her that Dewey wanted me to do fudge in the living room. I didn’t go into how he asked me to go ask her. My daughter didn’t look up from her notebook.

“Yes, you can do any of those basic ones he wants while you clean; that’s fine, just no more than 5 minutes. We are home from school, so you have more time, but you still need to get the cleaning done.”

I wish I could describe the humiliating feeling I had in my tummy after my daughter dismissively told me I would have to do it for five minutes when he asked. I went back to my son and said, “She said no more than five minutes, and you have to let me clean up.”

I pulled my ass cheeks apart and stuck my butt out so he could see my asshole. I didn’t have a timer, so I wasn’t sure how long five minutes would be, but I planned to approximate it. I was probably no further than two feet from where Dewey was. We had a living room that didn’t allow a lot of floor space because we had more furniture than we really needed for a living room that small.

“Where is your butt plug?”

“It’s in Julie’s room,” I replied.

“Get closer so that I can see,” Dewey didn’t make it any easier for me. He was leaning back in his chair.

I moved as close as I could get. My ankles were touching the tips of my son’s toes. “That’s good?”

“Closer”

“Any closer, and I’ll be on your lap, Dewey,” I said as I stuck my butt out.

I could see him out of the corner of my eye. He moved himself so that he was only a few inches from my asshole, and eagle-eye studied it like he was preparing for a test and my ass had all the answers.

“Can I sniff it?”

“You want to smell my butthole?” I found that hard to believe. I wasn’t sure why anyone would want to sniff a butthole.

“Yes, would you mind?” he asked with a straight face. I could hardly believe the audacity of my son. My heart raced. It just seemed so out of place and random. I wondered if that was the request he had given Ms. Collins.

I assumed she would have no problem with such a request. She’d tell him that women’s odors are quite similar to men. I decided not to over react or make him feel bad for making the request. I still couldn’t perform it for him without permission from my daughter, anyway.

“You would have to ask Julie,” I was a little nervous and uncomfortable. I’d let my son TOUCH my asshole many times in requests. It just sounded so wrong to let him sniff my bottom – especially in the morning. I felt sweaty.

“I didn’t ask that. I asked if you’d mind if I did it?”

“No, but you probably don’t want to do that. My ass crack is sweaty from cleaning all day. How about after I shower later?”

“I’d like to sniff it now, the way it smells naturally, not with soap. I am curious about it. I am just going to lean in,” he warned me before he moved in a calm manner. There was technically nothing that I could do to stop him.

“I have to hold the position for five minutes, Dewey, Julie didn’t give you permission to touch me.”

“I am going to Ghost sniff,” he said, and then he leaned forward, got within a fraction of a centimeter of my asshole with his nose, and inhaled. I felt bad for him. I could feel his breath on my pussy lips.

“It smells like Kraft Macaroni and Cheese,” Dewey observed as if he was about to say “Eureka!”

I smiled because I thought my daughter’s ass smelled a little like Kraft cheese slices when I licked my thumb after it had been inside her. “I am glad you like it,” I told him. I wasn’t sure how I felt about Dewey’s sniffing my butt.

On the one hand, it was a very reasonable request that fully complied with the Program. On the other hand, it was creepy and disgusting, and I didn’t understand why he wanted to do it. He seemed fascinated with girl asses, and I theorized this question was an extension of that, but why MY ass? He shouldn’t like his mother’s butt so much.

“Can you open and pucker your hole?” he asked. I could tell his lips were almost close enough to kiss my asshole.

“That sounds like a separate and different request.”

“Nope, I want you to show me your asshole and demonstrate how you can pucker and move it. I’ve seen you do it before.”

I winked it for him and forced my asshole closed and open again. I found myself smiling because this was intensely humiliating. I wondered how often he had witnessed me subconsciously puckering my asshole. It was quite easy to do it once I started, and it seemed to really amuse my son, so I kept doing it.

“Can you move the butt hole without making your pussy wink at the same time?”

“Dewey, this is kind of inappropriate for a mother and a son to be doing, don’t you think?”

I was trying to emulate Ms. Collins, but I wasn’t doing a very good job. I could feel his warm breath on my pussy, and he was so close that he could have kissed it.

“Do you mind if I get this close?”

I kind of did but I had no valid reason other than it was “icky” to me, and so I told him that I didn’t. “If this is something you are curious about, that’s fine with me, but I can feel your breath on my butt.”

He blew on my asshole, and it puckered involuntarily. Dewey giggled.

“I think it’s been five minutes,” I started to get up. I was reaching a point where I felt this was inappropriate. He had just made me cream myself. Dewey whipped out his phone to take a picture. We had been at this for less than 2 minutes.

The part that was freaking me out was that my son had fingered my pussy and pulled my clit and labia before. It did not feel as wrong as when he got right up next to my asshole and started blowing on my pussy and asshole. He was making me wink at him or twitch without trying.

“How come you stopped winking, your asshole?” he asked. I felt like Dewey was being mischievous, horny, and a little sadistic with me, but his tone suggested he was just being goofy.

“You were blowing on it and making me wink,” I replied.

“Yes, but I want you to keep making it throb; it’s like you are blowing me a kiss.”

My pulse was racing. No one had ever looked that close at my body parts before, as far as I knew.

“Can you queef?”

“in your face?” I asked if my son really wanted me to blow air out of my pussy while his face was a centimeter away.

“Yes, but Julie only gave me permission to do Milk and standard requests like that,” I admitted.

“I can make more requests?” he asked.

“She said, while I am cleaning, no longer than 5 minutes at a time, but you have to let me also clean, so maybe you could let me make some progress on the floor after this, and then in a little while, we can do this again?”

“You made it sound like Julie only approved ONE request,” Dewey chided me, and with every word he spoke, he blew hot air on my pussy lips and asshole. I was getting goosebumps on my back and arms.

“I am sorry about that,” I apologized and said that hadn’t been my intention. It was, though, I wanted to get the house spic and span because I’d be gone during the weekdays.

“Okay, Bitchany,” he said. Dewey and Reese had been equally calling me Bitchany about a 3rd of the time, Mom a third, and Brittany a third.

“When you finish this, go ask Julie if you have to queef on request during Fudge or Lemonade, and then ask for punishment if she says yes.”

I summoned some air in my diaphragm and queefed a little “Frrauppp” right on Dewey’s nose. I hoped that would placate him and not disgust him thoroughly with the female sex.

“What is queefing, Brittany?” he asked without moving his face away. “is it the same as farting?”

“It sounds like you know what these things are.”

“I want you to tell me, Mom.”

“Queefing is when a girl pushes air out of her pussy. It comes from deep within my solar plexus below my tummy. I have a little cavern inside me, and I form a pocket of air, and the queef is the sound it makes when it escapes. You know what a fart is, it comes from a butthole.”

“I want to see you fart.”

“You want to smell my farts?” I found that ludicrous.

“I want to WATCH your asshole open and close as you launch a fart, the way you did a queef just now. It’s something I haven’t seen before.”

I felt like suggesting he go see Ms. Collins, because she had more experience with deviant ideas. It sounded really disgusting. Jim hated it when I farted in bed on accident. He considered it unladylike even though he’d never suppress a fart around me. Jim also got disgusted when he fucked me, and the air got trapped in my pussy, and I made a queefing noise involuntarily when he withdrew his dick.

“I can’t fart right now, Dewey,” I told him the truth.

“Can’t or won’t try?”

“I might poot if I do,” I said.

“Try,” he insisted.

“How much time is left?”

He showed me there was still a minute and a half. “It could be stinky,” I warned him. I hadn’t intentionally tried to fart since I was a little kid at summer camp, innocently cracking jokes around the campfire. There was a boy who convinced us to all fart in the fire and see if we could make a fire plume.

I did my best and felt a little fizzle of air bubbles release from my asshole.

I heard Dewey take a deep breath.

I suspected this was the thing he did with Ms. Conner that even she wouldn’t talk about with us.

Dewey insisted we stay that way for the full five minutes, and then I was able to continue.

“Did that make you uncomfortable?”

“Yes,” I said.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t mind it?”

“A lot of things make me uncomfortable, but I don’t mind doing them for you. This one just was a little intense,” I returned to cleaning the floors with a mop.