Chapter 51

FRIDAY OCTOBER 11th, 2047 –TIED UP

Julie made it through the Pop the Booty game without saying Banana. We usually both held out the entire game. It isn’t that hard because the guys lose steam about halfway through the game on most nights. They get their second wind when they realize there are only 10 minutes left and really try to tease us and get us to scream Banana – which is my favorite part. It’s like a frenzy of tickles, touches, slaps, pokes and playful swats. That’s when they get really nasty and desperate to make us say Banana and it makes it all the more satisfying when we don’t and earn some cuddle time.

I haven’t kept track of how many times we’ve won. I haven’t really looked at a calendar or my phone, either. I’d say we won together more times than either of us lost. Most of the time, if someone loses the game, it’s Julie who ends up being tied up. I usually have to masturbate and watch the guys do naughty things to her while I wait to be snuggled.

However, this was one of the few times that Julie didn’t lose, and I did. I knew that I would be tied up alone. I went into the kitchen, and Jim and the guys were ready for me. They tied me to a dining room table and stuffed a dirty dish towel into my mouth to gag me. Julie was supposed to tie me up, but these knots were so simple, and she observed to make sure they were done right.

Ropes bound my wrists to the arms of the chair and my ankles to the front legs of the chair. They tied a rope around my tummy and crossed it around my tits to squeeze them a little. Jim made note of the milk droplets and fed them to me. I lapped them off of his finger.

Jim liked to sing his victory song in a really terrible and unconvincing Jamaican accent.

“Day-o, day-o, Daylight come and me wan’ go home! Day, me say day, me say day, me say day.

I say day, I say day-o!” he danced around the kitchen and took a sip of beer. He tried to be menacing at the same time.

He held up a banana and waved it at me like it was a cigar he was going to smoke. All I could do was giggle and smile invitingly as my husband danced jubilantly in celebration of his rare victory.

“Daylight comes, and me wan’ go home! Work all night on a drink of rum! Daylight comes and me wan’ go home! Stack banana ‘til de mornin’ come! Daylight come, and me wan’ go home!”

Julie was bored and eating a sandwich she had made after the game. Her tits were still sore and engorged from the tweaking she had endured, and her pussy was a little wet. She set a timer and told them that they had precisely 60 minutes to do whatever they were going to do, and then she wanted some snuggle time with them. She didn’t care who did it, but she wanted it sooner than later, and she wanted it to feel genuine.

“We haven’t even finished tying her up yet,” Reese chided his sister for her impatience.

“Chop-chop, let’s get the ball rolling. I am hot, sticky, horny, wet, and my butthole stings like you poured hot sauce on it. I am going to go take a shower. Have fun!” she said and left me to the tender mercies of my husband and sons.

The guys don’t play music when they do this part of the game, and the long periods of silence seem much more terrifying and slow-paced. They don’t beat us during this part. That happened outside. Instead, they begin by pulling our nipples and playing with them, pull our pussy lips out, and push down on our clits, and finger our butts at first.

I wouldn’t call it foreplay. It’s more like they are warming me up. If I start talking or giggling, they will stick something in my mouth – usually a dick, or a banana.

They had already gagged me with a kitchen towel from the kitchen sink. I couldn’t talk, so all I could do was mumble my pleasure and oof when they did something that wasn’t pleasant. Dewey removed my gag, and I thanked him. Then he put the wet bar of soap I had just washed my ass crack and pussy with into my mouth. The guys laughed and said that it looked perfect. I smiled as I held it in my mouth and didn’t spit it out even though I could have.

“My mom used to wash my Goddamned mouth out with soap almost every fucking night for cussing, and look how I fucking turned out, Dewey!” Jim assured them that no permanent harm would come to me. The acrid flavor of the soap and the suds weren’t pleasant, but I knew I would survive just fine. I tried to grin around the bar of soap so that they didn’t feel guilty about what they were doing to me.

“Yeah, you cuss all the time,” Dewey agreed as the acrid soap started to sting my tongue and spit dribbled down my chin onto my tits. I clenched down on it with my teeth.

“No, I meant it didn’t hurt me at all,” Jim said. He adjusted the soap so that it was further back in my throat. I could smell it coming up my nasal cavity from within my mouth. It was hard to keep it in. “This is good. Are you still having fun, Honey?”

“Mmm-hmmmm,” I tried to smile and nodded my head yes.

“Well, so am I,” Jim snapped a clothespin to my clit and left it there. It stung like a piss ant biting the snot out of me. I shivered. He liked rolling my nipples with his fingers and playing with the driblets of milk.

Reese came behind me and put a banana up to my ass crack through the open wooden slots in the back of the chair. I adjusted how I was sitting so it could go in my asshole. I knew it was dry, and he hadn’t lubricated it, but by now, I was used to a little rougher anal play. I felt him mash it in and knew the banana would be completely squished when it came out.

They snapped some pictures. I wasn’t sure if Jim was planning a scrapbook to document my adventure as a Breeder, but they loved to take pictures of us like we were trophies that they had just taken on a hunt in Africa.

After this year ended, I knew I’d never live down my participation in the Program. It’s not like my family would ever let me forget I spent an entire school year naked as a Breeder. I thought it might be nice to have some pictures of the experience to admire in my old age. It would serve as a reminder that I wasn’t always a ho-hum homebody who never took any fun chances or did anything exciting.

My parents already knew what I was doing, and my neighbors already knew. It wasn’t like I had any secrets to hide from anyone.

“Come and join the fun, Sis!” Reese said that when Julie walked in, she was wearing only a towel on her head to dry her hair.

“Nope, you guys have fun,” Julie yawned. She saw the soap in my mouth had worked up a frothy lather and said nothing about it. I had a small tear in my eye forming due to the smell of the soap.

“Hey, no clothes!” Dewey insisted that the towel on his sister’s head was technically clothes.

“Sorry, Dewey, this slut has had enough fun for one day. The towel stays on. I want to turn in; who is going to be my snuggle buddy?” Julie asked. She didn’t have to refer to herself as a ‘slut’ but she did so proudly and casually like it was just some fact of life that’s what she was.

No one spoke up. It was usually Reese who volunteered to snuggle her after the game if she won.

“Dad? You and I haven’t snuggled,” she said more like a request.

“You really want to snuggle with your old man?” Jim asked. He was playing with my tits. The funny thing is that he seemed fascinated with my boobs now, but for years he seldom ever touched them. It was like he had just discovered how huge they were. I could feel them firming up as the baby in my tummy started to grow. It wouldn’t be long before I was showing and had a little tummy.

“You betcha,” she smiled.

“Sorry, Honey, I guess you are going to get horny tonight! I’ll be sleeping with Julie,” Jim smiled at me as he honked my tits and gave them a big squeeze.

“It’s just an hour, Dad. You can still fuck Piggy tonight if you want. I am just really kind of sore all over, and I’d like some TLC tonight.”

The guys worked me over for about 45 minutes of the full hour. They got out the ice cube tray and froze my nipples, clit, and even my butthole by pressing ice cubes on them. Then they replaced the banana in my ass by rubbing the ice on my body and sticking them up my asshole one at a time while I shivered and giggled through the soap gage. I could feel them melt inside my asshole and drip down onto the chair and floor.

I put up no resistance, and they just ran out of steam. It was a long day. We didn’t always do things for an entire hour. After they were finished with me, Julie had me stand up. I still had a mushy banana in my ass and the soap in my mouth.

“Whose idea was the soap?” she said as she looked me over to see if I had any scratches or damage.

“Mine,” Dewey raised his hand to take credit for it.

“That’s a good one. I never would have thought about that,” Julie plucked the soap from my mouth. I hacked and spit some of the suds on my already soapy chest. “How did it make you feel to have your mouth washed out with soap, Piggy?”

“Good, Ma’am. I am a dirty mommy-slut!” I don’t even know why I said that. it just felt natural to reply that way and came out instinctively.

“Slut isn’t a bad word, but yes you are. You may have a glass of water and eat that crushed banana you had in your poo hole, and then I want you on the floor, grabbing your ankles. Let’s go Piggy!” she commanded as she untied me.

I hurried and drank a little water and spit as much of the soapy taste out of my mouth as I could into the sink. I left the soap on my tits while I munched the crushed banana from my ass. It had a poop stain on the skin. I was tempted to lick it just to see if I could handle the taste. I was too shy to be that vulgar, and peeled it and ate it.

“Piggy had a rough night, so don’t keep sticking things in her holes and teasing her. You can start again first thing Saturday morning!”

I had almost forgotten we had made it to another weekend. I really felt like I was somehow getting dumber over time – like a true bimbo. I kicked my feet up, held my ankles apart and lay dutifully on my back with my legs spread in front of my family while they gazed down on me.

My daughter bound me up and left me on the cold kitchen tile floor, and when the others left the room, she turned out the light and went to bed with her father. I didn’t see her until morning. “Good night, Miss Julie, Good Night, Mr. Garner,” I said. Dewey and Reese had already gone to bed before I could wish them a good night.

I called my husband, Mr. Garner, because Mr. Jim sounded strange to me. They didn’t hear me, or they didn’t say good night. I don’t know why I called my husband “Mr. Garner” but I felt like first names may not be appropriate anymore for me to use with him around the house and if I had said “Sir” then the guys wouldn’t know which one I meant.

In the morning, my daughter walked downstairs again with her father. Her hair was a mess as she stretched and gave herself a morning yawn. Jim was up with her. I got the distinct impression they had spent the whole night together because he seldom gets up with everyone else. He was also nude, and that was also really strange for Jim.

“Did you have fun sleeping on the floor, slutty mommy?” Julie bent over me and started to untie my ankles and wrists. She kept her legs apart, and gave her father a perfect view of her pussy and asshole while she untied me.

“Yes, Ma’am, I slept well, how about you two?” I asked. I wasn’t jealous, but I was curious.

“Out like a light,” Jim answered first and yawned into his hand. “That doesn’t hurt your back sleeping like that?” he asked about how I slept.

I felt special that he even cared how I spent the night. I don’t know why, but the more I was treated this way, the more I sort of enjoyed being treated like a pet. I know it sounds strange, because it WAS uncomfortable, but I thought it was appropriate for me.

“It does, but I guess it’s making me tougher,” I replied. I didn’t want to question Julie’s decision to put me on the floor. It wasn’t easy to get used to sleeping on the floor. I’ve counted the water stains on the ceiling and all the dust bunnies under the cabinets a hundred times, trying to fall asleep.

“You are one tough slutty mommy,” Jim paid me a compliment. I was hoping that “Slutty Mommy” or wouldn’t catch on, but it was better than being called Twat-Mommy. My asshole still puckered every time my daughter called me that. “If my wife’s a slutty mommy, what does that make me? A sexy daddy?” he asked Julie.

Julie giggled and didn’t reply. She focused on untying me.

“Look at me, I am still naked, and I just walked out of my room like I was supposed to walk around the house this way,” Jim realized he was nude. I guess he had such a good time last night and was so relaxed that he hadn’t realized he hadn’t put on any clothes. That was very different for Jim.

“It’s comfortable and natural, isn’t it, sexy daddy? You can just be yourself, get up, and not have to put on anything else. You see why I do it?” Julie replied smartly.

“You are much more at home in your skin than I am, sweetheart. I probably shouldn’t walk around here with my tally whacker hanging out. It might fall in my coffee.”

“Oh silly,” Julie smiled again sweetly. It seemed she was in a great mood, which only translated into a better one for me. “Do you want to watch how I give Piggy an enema?”

“Not particularly, but I am up now,” Jim said. She managed to convince him to reluctantly walk outside by telling him the only way he could get used to being in his own skin was to just be naked.

“In my day, if a guy walked around the neighborhood with his junk out, we’d call him a creepy flasher and call the law on him. I don’t think the neighbors appreciate it.”

“It’s perfectly legal, and a lot of people garden in the nude all the time,” Julie assured him as I heeled behind her on all fours, while she held her father’s hand and walked side by side with him.

“Maybe in places like California, but out here, I almost never see anyone I WANT to see naked doing anything. A few homeless people, prostitutes, and fatties,” Jim clearly didn’t mean me and Julie – at least I hoped he didn’t consider me a ‘fatty’.

“Daddy, don’t body shame,” Julie smiled. She hadn’t called him daddy since she was little, and Julie had NEVER called him sexy daddy until this morning, but now it seemed like the normal thing for her to say.

“What happened to calling me sexy daddy?” Jim asked. They ignored me as I padded behind them like a dumb, loyal dog.

“Sexy daddy doesn’t body shame. If you want to be one of those, act like one,” Julie smiled as she showed him my enema bag. She began to fill it.

“Is it really safe to leave out here like this?”

“Sure, we wash the tube, and no one is going to steal it.”

Jim seemed nervous. He kept holding his cock as if he was trying to hide it. “I noticed you both shave your pubes. Should I shave my nuts now? Is that the in thing?”

“You can shave your dick. You can trim it and keep it neat or you can grow it out like a shaggy Brillo pad. That’s the best part about nudity, which is that even when we have no clothes, we can choose our own style. The Program prefers that we don’t hide our bodies with excessive hair. It helps if people can see where everything is.”

“As pretty as you are, I don’t know why you let boys look all up inside you,” Jim expressed his concern for his daughter.

“Why not? How does my being pretty excuse me from a social responsibility to move society forward and do my civic duty to educate and remove stigma about sexuality?”

“I don’t know what any of that means, but you could leave a little mystery. It’s fun to explore,” Jim replied in simple terms.

“And I do, but I don’t mind as long as the people who want to explore me do so respectfully and with my consent.”

“How about you, Piggy? Do you like being explored without consent?” Jim turned to see that I was squatting on the grass behind them waiting for my instructions.

“Yes, I do, Mr. Garner.”

“I don’t really like being called that. Can you call me Jim?”

“Yes, she can!” Julie responded for me.

“Can I call her Slutty mommy? I like that better than Chass-Titty, I think,” Jim asked his daughter for permission on how he could address me. He used to become irate when he had to ask Julie’s permission for anything related to me.

“You can call her both, or bitch, cunt, even fatty or twatty-mommy as long as you do so because of her behavior and not to body shame her.”

“I don’t really understand the difference between calling someone a fatty for fun, or to body shame them. A fatty is a fatty,” Jim shrugged. “I don’t think I can call my wife those things,” he said. I swooned a little but he didn’t notice because he was looking at Julie when he said that.

“You can, Jim. I am a slutty-mommy, chass-titty, a bitch, a cunt, and a fatty if it pleases you and Julie,” I answered from the ground. I don’t know why I interrupted to say that. It just felt right. I was starting to do things more on instinct without over thinking them.

“Yeah, but you have to say that. It’s part of the game you two play,” he brushed off my offer.

Julie shoved the enema tube in my asshole after sucking on it with her mouth to get it lubricated. I cringed a little and waited for the warm water to wash into my bowels. Jim observed with pursed lips and a look of confusion about why this was all necessary.

“It’s kind of a game, but it’s a real relationship, Dad.”

“Yeah, but in the end, you know that in nine months, she doesn’t have to say she likes being called a fatty. It’s just something you both do because you have to say it. Then she can hold it over my head. If I were her, I’d slap the snot out of us for sticking bananas and ice cubes up her ass!”

I don’t know why, but that really flattered me. I had never wanted to smack my sons or my husband for that. I did not want any sort of revenge. That was the furthest thought from my mind.

“I don’t have to say it, Jim. I consented to allow Julie to be the boss of me, and if she wants to allow you to point out I have fat tits, or a fat ass, or fat tummy, or just fatty all over, then just tell me and laugh,” I offered politely to agree with my daughter. I didn’t want to be called fat, and it would definitely humiliate me, but strangely I felt like if it would make any of them happy to call me a name, it was a small sacrifice to make for them.

“I feel bad sometimes for you, Brittany. You look so pathetic down there with your cute asshole up in the air. You just keep smiling and staying so positive while everybody teases you, and I know I was supposed to say Piggy, but sometimes I still see the old Brittany when I look at you.”

I don’t know why, but I felt bad that he still saw me as the woman I was before this all began. I had come so far and done so much and learned so much. It felt much worse being called Brittany again than it would have to be called fatty, because it didn’t sound like my name anymore.

“Should she be crying and blubbering?” Julie asked rhetorically.

“I would be if I were her,” Jim said, and he said he’d expect me to be less agreeable. “When you act like it doesn’t bother you, it makes me think you are just pretending for my benefit and that, secretly, you are starting to hate us for what we do.”

This was not the conversation I wanted to have just before sunrise with my husband in the yard while I Was getting an enema. My tummy was distended from the water, and I knew I had more to take in my hole. However, I stifled a yawn because I hadn’t slept well, and thought about how to address his concerns.

“I am not a liar, Jim. I am not going to tell you that it’s always pleasant. The soap in my mouth stung my nose and tongue, and my back is achy and sore from sleeping on the ground, and my knees are itching from the grass, and I am sure there is an ant or two crawling on me somewhere,” I slapped at it on my legs. “If I didn’t want to be down here, I could stand up and quit.”