Chapter 49

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 11h, 2047 –Home After School

I crawled out of my own car when we arrived at our house without being told that I should crawl. I remembered my daughter’s orders very well and had been thinking about how humiliating it would be to crawl like a dog in the broad daylight past my neighbor’s house.

I had seen CR behave this way when she visited, and I drew upon that as my inspiration to just go for it. I stuck my big butt up in the air, placed my palms flat on the rocky gravel of the driveway, and crawled on my knees. My big fat tits were swaying and almost touching the ground.

I am sure I looked absurd, and the worst part was tiny bits of gravel were getting stuck to my knees and the flat of my palms and it hurt.

I followed Julie and Dewey to the middle of the backyard. I had to avoid the red (piss) ant hills and the weeds that grow little stickers as I padded on my hands and knees. It wasn’t easy, and the grass made my bare skin itch.

“You can put her in the Observation position,” Julie pointed to me. I assumed the position with my legs apart. “Open your pussy flaps and show him your urethra.”

“My what, Ma’am?” I asked calmly as I assumed the position, spread my knees apart, and smiled warmly.

“Your pee hole, Piggy!”

I didn’t know the technical terms for the parts of the pussy. I knew my pee hole, though. Dewey got down eye level with my pussy and looked right inside my pussy while I held it open.

“There are so many flaps and folds. It looks like I am staring into the mouth of a space slug,” my son said. That didn’t feel very flattering. “Can you wink the little eye in there?” he pointed inside me, and I knew what he meant.

I tried to wink my pee hole, but I was only able to flex my pussy muscles. He laughed.

“Can I touch it?” he asked.

“Of course, you’ve touched it many times when you put your fingers inside us. That’s where the pee comes out,” Julie explained.

“Where are the balls?” Dewey seemed confused. He didn’t reach inside me, so I waited and held myself open while he stared into my body.

“We don’t have testicles, Dewey,” Julie informed him.

Reese walked outside, eating an apple that he was slicing with a knife. “Who doesn’t have balls? Dewey? Dewey’s got balls! Great big ones! You should have seen him last night!” he laughed and bragged about how Dewey handled “That big girl at the Karlson house.”

Reese seemed very impressed with how his little brother had fucked Brunna earlier, but he didn’t go into too much detail.

The timing wasn’t great for Reese to bring that up because that reminded Dewey of Brunna, and his face soured. Julie had completely taken his mind off of it. Reese asked what was going on, and Julie explained that we were teaching Dewey where girl pee comes from.

“Isn’t it that little clit that looks like a penis?” Reese asked as he took another bite of apple.

“That’s the vulva, under the clit, right here is the pee hole. Come and look if you want,” Julie invited my other son to watch. He squatted down and squinted. “There are so many flaps and holes inside other holes. Why can’t you just have a dick? It’s got a long stick and one hole,” Reese smiled.

“That’s why we are letting you watch and touch it,” she said. She let the boys put their fingers inside me, spread my pussy, touch my pee hole, and examine it. It was incredibly invasive and tickled as they reached deep inside me. No one finger fucked me, but it certainly felt like they could have been. The worst part was the more I was touched, the more visibly excited I got, and I was dripping wet by the time it was over.

Once they were satisfied, she had them back up and told me to piss on the grass. It was fairly easy to do, and I controlled my trickle so that it wouldn’t get everywhere. Dewey was fascinated and even applauded. Reese found it disgusting but kept watching.

I could smell the scent of my pussy, and I am sure everyone else could as well. The worst part was that Dewey’s fingers were dripping with my goo and, he didn’t wash his hands.

“Julie says we don’t have to knock when they are using the bathroom anymore,” Dewey had a great big smile on his face as he told his brother the news.

“Sweet, can we kick them out if we have to take a shit?” Reese joked.

“Piggy will use the bathroom with the door wide open, and if you want to use the bathroom, tell her to hold it and wait in the hallway or go out in the yard and shit.”

“REALLY?” Reese hadn’t expected that.

“Sure, why not? You don’t mind, right Piggy?”

“No, Ma’am,” I replied. I didn’t grit my teeth or blush. I felt like it was appropriate that I defer to the needs of the boys, and that it was only right that I waited. “It’s better than going outside and using the grass.”

“Good,” she said before asking the boys if they had any questions about how I make Lemonade. I had come so far since I turned red in the face just peeing in a cup in front of people on the first day.

‘At least this was out of the way,’ I thought to myself. My sons have seen me piss on the grass. It’s not like I can pretend I didn’t do it. It was vulgar behavior, but it was done now.

“Are you going to show us Fudge next?” Reese asked. I took a deep breath and told myself that I could release enemas in the backyard. I could do this. I fully expected that I would have to demonstrate the “fudge-making” process to Dewey.

I had one more extreme hurdle to achieve, and the motorcycle rally for butterflies was in full swing in the pit of my stomach as the Monarchs and the Swallowtail gangs rumbled for control of my tummy.

I resolved myself to the fact that Karen could do this, and she did it every day. I could do it as well.

“If you guys want to see it,” Julie offered them both a chance to decline the demonstration. I kind of hoped they would.

Reese spun on his heel, took a bite of his apple, and abruptly said, “I am out.”

“Piggy, turn around. We aren’t going to get up and walk around YOU!” Julie said to squat in the opposite direction and hold my asshole apart.

“Okay, if Piggy ever asks to use the bathroom and you aren’t sure if she needs to go, then just put two fingers up her ass like this,” Julie showed him how to push the fingers into my ass and check me like they were dipsticks.

“Why would Piggy lie about needing to go to the bathroom?” Dewey asked.

“At Tiffany’s house, her mother can only go when she has permission, and they check her to see if she is lying and just wants to take a short break. They also check to see if she needs to go before they start a lot of ass play,” Julie said. I had seen that at Karen’s house and when she stayed with us.

“What am I supposed to do with two dirty fingers after I touch one of the little poop nuggets in mom’s ass?”

I blushed as the mental image flashed in my head.

“You are right, that’s a bit much, isn’t it, Dewey? For now, Piggy doesn’t really need permission to use the bathroom. She can just use it when she isn’t busy without bothering us to ask if she can. If you want to tell her to get out because you have a legitimate need to use the bathroom, then she will. I won’t be getting out, though. Is that fair?”

“I am just curious, though, does Tiffany just walk around with two brown fingers?” Dewey asked.

“I have never seen her draw dirty fingers out of her mother’s ass, but like her plug, CR cleans them with her mouth.”

“Can I do that here?” Dewey genuinely seemed excited to stick his fingers in my butt to see if I should even be allowed to use the toilet.

“I don’t think so, Dewey. I love being wicked and cruel to Piggy because she makes it so fun and smiles and takes it, but you are talking about making her lick poopy fingers.”

“Have you ever tried it?” Dewey asked.

“No, why would I?” Julie scrunched her nose in disgust at the suggestion she lick dirty fingers.

“I was just curious. There has to be a scenario if Tiffany plays Russian roulette with her mother’s asshole that she’s going to draw a bullet and get a little poo on her finger. Does she rush all the way to the sink?”

“I think probably so. You should always wash your hands thoroughly after you touch our pussies and assholes,” Julie indicated that Dewey’s fingers smelled a little fishy from his earlier inspection of my pussy by making a face like she smelled something disgusting.

“Are girls teeming with bacteria and disgusting stuff?” Dewey asked.

“Actually, Dewey, we are. We’ve got bacteria inside of us. You have indoor plumbing,” she pointed to Dewey’s crotch. “We’ve got outdoor plumbing,” Julie pointed to her bald pussy. “We get UTIs, Bacterial infections,” Julie was about to explain the finer points of feminine hygiene to him.

“Okay, I get it! Can we see Piggy squeeze cheese?” Dewey didn’t mince words. He wanted to see me do one of the most disgusting and private acts I could think of.

Julie laughed at her little brother’s word for taking a dump and bluntly told me to squeeze cheese for him.

I knew she meant right where I was, squatting in the grass, with my pussy flaps held wide open.

My ass made a curious crackle and pop sound as I pooped on the ground. I was used to using a toilet with water at the bottom. I wasn’t prepared for the fudge in my butt to just drop out of my ass and land on the ground between my feet. I apologized for the smell and continued. I looked straight ahead and tried not to think about what I was doing.

I assumed that even Dewey, with his fascination with the female butt, would have turned and left. I thought perhaps when I looked up, the two of them would not be there because they were so disgusted.

Instead, I saw three pairs of feet.

Dewey was fascinated and still watching as I finished pushing out the last little bit. Julie and Mrs. Johnson were standing there.

“You are one disgusting woman, Mrs. Garner,” My neighbor shook her head. She was aghast at what I was doing. I wasn’t sure why I wasn’t. I smiled up at her because this was so over the top that it truly was funny to me.

“Yes, Ma’am, I am sorry! My son wanted to see how women go poop, and Miss Julie thought we should give him a lesson in the yard. I’ll clean it up.”

“You won’t be in my house walking around doing nasty things like this in front of my husband, will you?”

“No, Ma’am,” I assured her and told her I remembered my promise to come to her house. I doubted the kids had planned anything special for my birthday, so it would give me something to do.

“I should call the law on you,” she threatened.

“There is no law against defecating on our own property, Ma’am,” Julie dismissed Mrs. Johnson’s empty threat.

“Well, there should be something!” Mrs. Johnson scowled and went back to her house. Dewey didn’t notice. He commented that as the last bit came out, my asshole pushed it out and then sealed itself close.

“Dewey, this should prove to you that girl poo is just as stinky as boy poo,” Julie said as they both looked at the brown mess that I had left on the grass.

“I think guy crap is probably worse,” Dewey disagreed and pointed out that I had left a perfectly banana-shaped turd on the lawn. I almost laughed out loud. I should have been mortified, but the way that my son described my poop made me grin.

“You’ve made me stick so many bananas up my ass, Mister Dewey, that I probably have a mold in my butt,” I grinned in agreement. He was right. There was one big brown banana-shaped turd on the grass. It was clumpy and not wet.

“Now, if you take Brittany out here to do this again, tell her to go bury her mess by the shed,” Julie made me pick it up in my bare hands and carry my mess to the shed. It was gross picking up my own waste, I won’t kid you. I was afraid I would squish it and get it everywhere. I was just glad I could get it all in one trip.

She instructed me to dig a large hole with a tiny shovel. It took me about five minutes; Gnats began attacking me as sweat ran down my forehead. My hands were still sticky from touching my doo-doo. Julie told me to start with this hole in the ground and then create a mound, and eventually, she’d have me take a wheelbarrow, bag it up, and empty it somewhere nearby in the woods.

I got the impression this would be my new normal. I simply smiled and dug while the two of them watched and chatted. I knew Julie was concerned about her brother’s feelings about Brunna. It seemed she was texting him, but he wasn’t happy with what she had to say.

“Once she has finished, allow Piggy to go wash her hands and any sweat or grass stains along with her dirty butthole with the garden hose. Then you are done. Can you handle that, Dewey?”

“Oh, absolutely!” Dewey sounded overwhelmed with joy. Yet, he couldn’t help himself. He had to ask for more. “Can I request that YOU go out in the yard?”

“You can request it, but I’ll say no. You can watch me in the bathroom if you really want to see the differences between Mom’s anatomy and mine. I think you’ll get bored of this after you see it a few times. If you intentionally interrupt me while I am in the middle of the shower too many times, I’ll rethink my open-door policy.”

“What about going into your room without knocking?” Dewey asked his sister with a big smirk.

“That’s my private sanctum, where I go to think, reflect, and get a little peace and quiet. When I am there, I don’t want to be asked to perform requests. I’d rather invite you in than let you barge in.”

I had finished using the garden hose on myself to clean my lady parts and fingers.

“Can I request you two touch your buttholes and run like mad around the outside of the house for five minutes?”

“Yes, but then Piggy HAS to get dinner started!!” Julie shrugged as if she were simply placating a needy toddler.

My daughter and I raced laps around the house, even though we didn’t have to compete. I held my wet butthole and grinned like my ass was on fire and I was running to put it out. It was strange not having a belly full of water. I had developed a lot more stamina, but Julie still easily outpaced me.

We laughed when it was all over. I could see Mrs. Johnson and her husband scowling from their porches.

“Good thinking, offering to clean their house and mow their grass, Piggy,” my daughter patted my head. “Next time, let me make offers like that. I should have spanked your ass for it, but it was a good idea. If they get something out of this, they may be less likely to complain.”

“I hope so, Ma’am.”

Speaking of complaining, when we went back inside and dried the sweat off of our bodies, my husband was already home and upset that I had not started dinner. “Now you are going to play Poops and Ladders in the backyard every day instead of making dinner, Brittany?”

“It’s Piggy now, Sir, and I had no choice. Julie wanted to show Dewey how I use the bathroom, and I am sorry dinner is late.”

“You weren’t using the bathroom, Piggy. You were shitting and pissing outside. The bathroom is in the house,” Julie corrected me and then apologized to her father. “That’s on me, Dad. I didn’t know you’d be home so early on Friday.”

“Yeah, I’ll take it out of both of your hides tonight when we play Pop the Booty,” Jim softened. He didn’t seem entirely surprised to learn that I had just shit in the yard. I suppose he knew all about the enemas I took in the morning, so it probably didn’t shock him. He was less inclined to complain to Julie than he was with me about the unusual nature of my behavior. “How about you come and give your Dad a shoulder rub?”

“On it,” Julie skipped over to her father and rubbed his shoulders while I asked everyone what they wanted for dinner and began making it.

“You know, Dad, you can take off your shirt, and this would be a lot better.”

“True,” Jim unbuttoned his shirt and removed it. He had a broad, muscular chest when he was in high school. It looked like that had drifted down to his pot belly. He was hairy and had a few tattoos. Jim rarely undressed around us and usually just took his pants down. He seemed a little uncomfortable at first, but that faded as the backrub continued.