Chapter 50

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 10th, 2047 –POP THE BOOTY GAME (AT HOME)

I asked Julie, as we prepared ourselves by limbering up before the Pop the Booty Game, why she had played it. “You don’t seem to enjoy it, and you really don’t have to do this,” I said. The guys didn’t hit THAT hard, but they left us with pink asses and pink everything else as well. I felt Julie was growing tired of being outside, getting eaten up by mosquitos for an entire hour while the guys smacked, poked, tickled, and slapped the snot out of her during the game.

She put up with it, but she wasn’t giggling and having fun like we did at first.

“I play because I like to try new things, and like I told Dad, Ms. Collins said I should apply myself the same way I did to get accepted into the Program. I really tried to overcome my natural shyness, and to be honest, being a pin cushion and a punching bag for an hour sort of deflates the stress level in the house. I’d expect Dewey to be particularly tiresome tonight. I should probably grease my asshole up with Preparation H right now,” she giggled before patting my head and calling me a Twat-Mommy.

She liked teasing me like that. I smiled and asked if I could have some of that Preparation H and she spit on her fingers and wiped it on my ass. “How about some Preparation S”.

She walked me outside by the lead on my collar. Jim was sitting out at the picnic table with his ropes trying to adjust them. He had a couple of different kinds of cords of various thicknesses made out of different materials. There were some that were scratchy, some were hard, some were stretchy, and some ropes that were downright abrasive.

I don’t think he realized they each felt different against our skin. Jim just didn’t like to throw away anything and had a collection of bits of rope from various household projects he had undertaken over the years.

“Right on time, ready to get your booty’s popped?”

“You betcha,” Julie sounded excited. She often smiled even when the guys treated her roughly during Pop the Booty. I smiled broadly and nodded while walking up to the same volleyball pole that I always get tied to outside.

Reese walked outside and forgot his soda. He started to double back to the kitchen. “Piggy! Bring me my soda. It’s in my room!”

“Yes, Sir,” I said. Jim looked up and frowned.

“You boys are taking advantage of your mom’s good nature,” he warned.

“You are about to tie her up and pop the snot out of her,” Reese reminded him as he sat down next to his father.

“Yeah, but you treat her like a maid,” he said.

“She makes your coffee the way you like it every day, and when you are finished, you put the empty cup on the table instead of walking it over to the sink or the dishwasher,” Reese countered.

“Agreed, but I am her husband, and I make the money. That’s her job in the morning! I need that coffee,” he insisted.

“Well, I am her son, and I need my Pepsi,” Reese smiled breezily.

“Okay, point well taken, Smart ass,” Jim agreed as he reached over and tussled our son’s hair. “Just remember that after she pops out that baby, she’s going to remember all the nasty things you did, and I won’t be responsible if she gets even.”

“You are warning me? Like I said, You are about to tie her up with these ropes and smack her tits until they turn pink!”

“Yeah, but I also let her suck cock all day, so we are even,” Jim said as he untangled some knots in the ropes he planned to use leftover from previous sessions of the game.

Julie interjected and clarified that I do not suck cock at school at all.

“You can make your Mom fuck anybody you want, can’t you? Just like Tiffany does her Mom?”

“Yes, but I haven’t since the breeding session. The only cocks she has sucked are the three of yours.”

I stood there waiting to be sure that I was supposed to go get my son’s Pepsi. I knew that I was supposed to be demonstrating a submissive relationship to my daughter and that she had given them explicit permission to give me simple requests without asking her permission. I really didn’t mind. I think Jim looked at it more like I was giving up something or being forced to do something against my will.

However, I had signed up for this.

It prompted me to wonder if after this was all over, if the others would ever see me the same way. I frankly enjoyed the time we were spending together as a family, even if it was kind of naughty.

“So, she’s a big tease at school that doesn’t put out but walks around acting like she will?” Jim grinned as he stared at my boobs. Julie smacked my ass and sent me on my errand.

I returned with the Pepsi and brought it to my son.

“Pour it in a glass with two, no three ice cubes,” he said. I tried not to sigh, and I went back inside to do that for my son. No one brought up a concern about me acting like a maid. I think they had worked it out while I was performing the chore.

“Dewey? Get your ass out here, we are fixing to begin, and we need your corny music!” My husband yelled loudly for Dewey to join us outside. Jim stood up and began to tie my daughter’s bindings. Technically, she wasn’t supposed to let them tie me up, but she had been letting them tie and untie us both during the game and if we said banana because it was pretty simple. They make us stand close to the pole and tie our hands together behind our backs but make it so that the pole is in between our arms, and we can’t run off. Then, they tie our left ankle to the pole. It’s very simple.

Usually, my husband let’s Reese do some of the bondage. He ties a rope harness around our tits that comes down to our backs just above our butt cracks. They like to yank It to pull us around while they tie us up to the pole.

Dewey didn’t come when he was called, which was rare. Dewey usually came right away when his father called him.

When I brought my son his Pepsi in a glass, Jim told me to go tell Dewey to come outside because we were getting ready to start.

“Yes, Sir,” I said and turned on my heel.

Julie stopped me. “Piggy, ASK him if he would like to come outside. You don’t TELL Dewey to do anything, okay Twat-mommy?”

I cringed because Reese and Jim had heard her call me “Twat-Mommy”. I hoped they wouldn’t start doing that because it kind of made my asshole pucker when I heard it.

“Yes, Ma’am,” I agreed. I found Dewey and asked him to come outside. He was on his phone texting.

“Tell them I don’t want to,” Dewey dismissed me and kept looking at the phone and texting.

“Your father wants your music, and they need you to make it fun. It won’t be the same without you,” I assured him.

“You can take my USB speakers. Just press “BOOTY MIX” on the digital display, and it will work. I am busy right now,” he insisted.

I went downstairs and told Jim and Reese what he said. I brought out the music player, but I really didn’t know how to work it. I gave it to Reese because he knew how to use it.

“Goddamn it, I guess I have to do everything myself now? Alright, Twat-Mommy,” Jim said derisively. Let me get up and go get the boy. Reese, tie your mother up to the pole REAL good, and make it nice and tight!”

“As tight as your butthole, Dad!” Reese joked.

Jim flipped his son off jokingly and went grumbling upstairs. Reese bound me just like Julie, and we waited.

Dewey and Jim returned a few minutes later. Dewey had the Honey in his hands and seemed to be smiling. “You said we could paint you sluts up with honey?”

“That is no shame in being a slut, and yes, I said that you could cover us in honey when we play the game if you want to; just don’t get it in my hair, please,” Julie said. She didn’t say they couldn’t get it in MY hair.

“If there is no shame in it, you won’t mind if I call you that from now on?” Jim asked in a smart-ass kind of way.

“Nope, not a bit,” Julie said.

“Okay, Slut One and Slut Two,” he said as he poured a lot of Honey into his hand and painted the number one on Julie’s tummy and two on mine. Then Jim, Dewey, and Reese poured about half of the container out in their hands. They spilled some on the lawn, but most of it ended up all over us.

Jim initially cringed; he hated to waste things and spend money. However, he was having fun with the game once he covered us with sticky-sweet honey.

It was on my face, neck, between my tits, over my stomach, around my pussy, in my asscrack. They got it everywhere: legs, feet. The scent was really strong. The guys took some pictures. Surprisingly, they did not pour it over our heads and soak us with it. I really thought they might go that far.

“You look good, Honey! Say Cheese!” Jim said as he took the photo.

“Cheese!” I smiled at the picture.

The Honey started to dry almost immediately and attracted all sorts of bugs to us. The bugs got stuck in the Honey immediately, but I felt them land between my ass, around my neck, and on my arms. It was still a very muggy early October, and we were sweating a little before it began.

Dewey started up the music. He often added strange new songs like Philip DeSousa marching band music or techno-pop with a woman repeating, “I want to sit on your face, I want to sit on your face.”

He had a very eclectic taste in music, but it added a sort of comical, almost surreal quality to the game that made it much livelier. Some of the music was bawdy, techno and some of it was just sort of frantic circus clown music.

The guys had a small arsenal of tools handy to use on us. They usually began with hairbrushes. They used the flat end and sometimes the bristles. I am not sure what was worse. The Honey added a tackiness, for lack of a better word, that made the brushes sticky and feel different when they hit our bare skin.

Julie makes a lot of yelping and ouchie noises, but I often giggle and scream, “Oh my god! Guys!!!”

It doesn’t “hurt” as much as it stings, but it’s all done with love.

The guys like to shout out “Pop the Booty,” “Pop the Titty,” or “Pop the Coochie,” depending on their intended target. We have a surprising amount of mobility to avoid them, but usually, they hit something in the process. They also like to laugh, point, and try to misdirect us so that we think they are aiming somewhere, and when we go to block, they hit us somewhere else.

It’s all in fun, and this outdoor game was almost like all the others we played recently, with the exception of Honey. Mr. and Mrs. Johnson watched like vultures staring at rotten meat from their picnic table in their yard. The church was getting out, but Jim had wisely had me plant the volleyball poles near the back patio in the middle of the yard, so we were further away from the road. They could still see us, but they had to look a little harder.

I can’t give you the play-by-play of how the swings come in. It all happens so fast and furiously. The guys sometimes team up, and each of them hits one boob or butt cheek at the same time. They switched to the riding crop and the paddle, but this time, due to the Honey, I think they didn’t want to ruin them by making them sticky.

The guys liked tickling us, pulling our nipples, clits, and goosing our pussies and ass. They gave us quick little jabs and then licked their fingers like we were sauced chicken nuggets.

Jim started using his spatula. It’s a slender stainless one with a silicon handle. He sometimes tries to put that in my pussy and my ass during the game. They also had some bananas (I bought a bunch the last time I went to the store) and our dildos. The dildos they save for last because they start by whipping us into a frenzy.

Reese stuck a banana in his sister’s mouth and tried to get her to say the code word to end the game and accept defeat. “Come on, Monkey! Say Banana! Say banana!” he kept teasing her and playing with her tits at the same time. Julie stared defiantly at him and kept her mouth shut as much as she could. Reese pried her mouth open, and she bit down on the banana.

“Ouch!! That could have been a pecker!” Reese gushed.

Dewey dashed into the kitchen and came out with some cold Chicken McNuggets I had put in the refrigerator in case anybody wanted to eat them later. Jim bought us a 40-piece nugget last week.

He tried feeding one into my ass and then another once he got that one in. “Dewey! What are you doing!!” I gasped.

He smacked my butt and reminded me it was Mister Dewey. His dad and brother didn’t see any harm in it. I wasn’t sure how I was going to get those out later. He thought it was funny. After two nuggets, I closed my sphincter as tightly as I could, but he got frustrated trying to jam the third one.

“What are you doing, Dewey? Trying to dip your Nugg-nuggs in your Mom’s chocolate sauce?” Jim laughed and called the McNuggets “Nugg-nuggs” which is what Dewey used to call them when he was little.

That’s when Dewey REALLY surprised everyone by unzipping his pants and pissing all over my back and ass. He didn’t give me any warning at all. I almost didn’t realize what he was doing and initially thought he was just squirting me with a water gun.

“Whoa! Whoa! What the fuck!” Reese narrowly missed some of the spray. A little hit Julie and the rest splashed all over me. Jim told Reese to turn off the music.

I shouted “BANANA, BANANA!” in a panic.

“Son, what the fuck has gotten ahold of you? That’s too far!”

“Why? I made the cunt say banana, isn’t that the point? Piss is a perfectly natural body function, isn’t it, Piggy?” Dewey tried to sound rational, but he came off as whiney and angry. I had his pee mixed with Honey dripping down my back. I didn’t want to answer him, and I wasn’t sure what to say.

He had gone from being somewhat calm to suddenly looking pissed off. I knew he was probably still upset about whatever he had been texting about with Brunna.

“You did, but I think that’s a bit much,” Jim said as he started to untie me.” Why don’t you go shower off, Honey!”

“Okay, thank you, Sir.”

My husband kissed me on the lips and told me he was sorry.