Chapter 3

The plug’s soft purr ended during the night as Lois dreamt, but with morning, a sudden powerful rumble stirred in Lois’ belly.

If she payed more attention to the ‘hindoo-hooey’ from the yoga class she and Bonnie took for exercise and to socialize, and (lets face it) to be touched by that studly-hot yoga coach, Lois might have been able to describe the experience of being woken by a vibrating bluetooth buttplug-alarm in terms of plucking some deep chakrical cord in her bowels, creating a resounding omic note to instantly reset her circadian clock into rise-and-shine mode.

As the blackmailer required her phone to be set up each night to transmit video of her sleeping, Lois knew right where it was without even opening her eyes. Did the blackmailer really watch her sleep, or did he just want to make Lois feel watched?

‘Still 90% charge on the collar, same as what it was when I went to bed. The magnet-cord must’ve somehow pulled off the collar during the night,’ she thought, swiping the alarm to still the powerful vibration in her guts.

Any small charge the collar gained before Lois fell asleep must have been consumed while she slept disconnected. Did she knock the collar’s charge cord off with her arm? Was it the pillow? Maybe she should find some tape to keep it attached.

Not relishing the thought of sleeping with some scratchy tape on her neck in addition to the pair of cords, Lois was glad that at least Peter tended to fall asleep immediately after sex so she had a way to ‘put him down’ before sleeping, given the awkward ritual night-time charging involved.

‘Put him down, that makes Petah sound like my baby. Oh well, in some ways I suppose he is my baby too,’ thought Lois, ‘seems like they’re all a bunch of children in this house, except maybe Meg who seems seventeen going on Old Maid.’

At least her real baby, Stewie, seemed easier lately, which helped. Even days, the babe tended to enjoy playing with Brian more than her, which seemed different than how Meg and Chris had been at that age. With all this blackmailer business going on, Stewie’s sweet disposition was a godsend.

Lois would have to block out some time today to fully charge her collar. At least her collar didn’t choke her if it came unplugged before reaching 100% charge. Her plug was a real pain in her heinie when that happened expanding so it could not be removed. As for Lois’ collar, it could not be removed anyway short of some hefty bolt cutters or an angle grinder.

Early on when she was less used to the plug, Lois would sometimes resort to beginning a charge cycle and then disconnecting briefly to make the plug expand for the rest of the cycle, because although its expanded form affected her more profoundly, by elongating vertically along the crack of Lois’ ass, the part of the plug outside her would narrow a bit from it’s normally circular shape. The narrowing relieved some of the constant pressure on the flesh around her poor plugged asshole.

Lois hadn’t needed to do this recently though, as if she toughened up. Mortified that she might develop a bed sore, she used to check herself carefully each day, always finding nothing, but it had been a couple weeks since she last examined herself there.

Maybe her brain just filtered out the constant low level irritation, or the clever ways she found to sit and bounce on the arm of the couch provided sufficient relief.

Or maybe there had been nerve damage. She doubted it, she could still feel the plug back there, but she resolved to scrutinize her backside in the mirror soon just in case, Lois wondered if she’d find the area around her asshole now conformed itself permanently to the roundness of the plug curving away to frame her anus in an inviting opening of soft butt flesh.

Would her body be trained like the waists of women who once wore corsets or the branches of a banzai tree? Would long wearing of this buttplug transform her ass into into some anal elven topiary straight out of Rivendell?

‘Speak bend ovah and entah,’ thought Lois, giggling silently, her thoughts turning to the naughty tentacles of the Watcher in the Water outside Moria.

“Perish the thought.” Lois muttered aloud, ‘This thing in my ass is driving me nuts!’

“Unhand me you insufferable estrogenous sow!” said Stewie to Lois pulling him from his crib, also making him drop his lethal hypodermic dart gun.

“We’ve gotta get you changed so we can start breakfast this morning,” said Stewie’s mother.

“What in blazes is that on your neck, woman, are you trying to make Brian jealous?” asked Stewie.

“How about some banana slices, scrambled eggs, and a nice bottle of warm breastmilk?” asked Lois sitting him down in his high chair. Of all her children, only Stewie couldn’t be convinced to stop gnawing on Lois’ nipples once he began teething. Lois could have switched to formula, but she felt Stewie was likely her last baby, so she wanted to hold on to lactation as long as possible. Breastmilk was the best thing for him anyway, at least for a while longer, even if it had to be from a bottle.

Lois breastfed all three of her offspring, never really storing milk, since at home, there was no need, but with Stewie, she’d gotten a machine, and a hand pump to fill bottles, finding she enjoyed using it for some reason, pumping way more milk than Stewie actually drank. A baby in her arms distracted her from the raw sensation of being milked, but doing it to herself felt sexual and the oxytocin was a drug in itself, not to mention how full her bosom was while lactating. She intended to keep pumping milk as long as her tits would make it and do what she could to make sure it kept coming as long as possible, no matter if Stewie drank it or not. These days she tended to favor using a hand operated automotive vacuum tester jerry-rigged to the machine’s suction cups to get a stronger draw than the devices the medical wimps sold.

Cooking breakfast for the family emerged over the years, as the most reliable way for Lois to get everyone up and on their respective ways each morning. Meg and Chris now old enough to make their own breakfasts in the morning, never would. Left to themselves, they’d just grab some greasy chips or donuts that Peter kept around and run, milking the morning for every last second of sleep before rushing out the door at the last second, dangerously close to missing the bus.

Weekday breakfast was always short and rushed though it was the meal the family most consistently ate together, the hectic hubbub of getting ready to leave on time notwithstanding. It was Lois’ best chance to slip some orange juice or bananas into the diets of her husband and kids. Meg was starting to show belly rolls as a teenager that Lois had to look away from to stop her self from commenting on.

Treasuring the fun adventures she experienced as a young woman, Lois considered it a travesty for her teenage daughter to enter her prime years frumpy and fat. Chris already seemed a lost cause in that department like his father, but Chris’ prime, would at least come later.

And being fat hadn’t stopped Peter from snagging Lois, so maybe there was still hope for Chris even as a fat guy, especially packing what she thought she spied downstairs the other night looking for her charger. Lois recently disabled the content blocker on the router for Chris’ computer before all this blackmailing started. Hopefully he’d find a girlfriend or two in high school. Maybe looking at a little porn would gently spur him in that direction. Chris might even take a some interest in his health to help attract a girl.

But Lois didn’t make her family bag lunches anymore. Peter ate at the Clam and when first Meg, and then Chris told her they didn’t want bagged lunch anymore she’d already seen countless apples and celery sticks come back uneaten through their middle school years in favor of Doritos and brownies. It would have been pointless to argue.

The town used the same busses for all the grades, so mornings had gotten earlier as the kids had grown older helping Lois to appreciate the extra time for sleep not making lunch meant. Her two oldest got home from high school not long after a normal lunchtime anyway so the busses could be free to ship the younger kids. She didn’t know or care what Meg and Chris spent their lunch money on, whether it was the a-la-carte bar, or the vending machines all over the school. Maybe they just added it to their allowances.

At their ages, Lois wasn’t about to police the snacks they raided from the kitchen when they got home, and keeping junk food out of the house was never going to happen with Peter, so she’d given up on not allowing her teens to be fat.

Lois almost succeeded in that with Meg, but as the family grew, its natural chaos undermined her. As she lost control, Lois’ disappointment with the Meg she’d been trying to build bubbled to the surface all too often.

Her insensitive rude comments, ineffectual at spurring her daughter to rise above them, appeared to the others as hilarious bullying, which Peter and Chris would join in for the fun of it, Peter as utterly dependent on ‘Mom’ to reign him in as Chris. If Mom started it, it must be open season on Meg.

Through her teen years, Meg felt the family culture of bullying her crystallize around her, Meg herself seeming to grow into the picture it projected - the embodiment of a self fulfilling insult. Her magnetic bullying curse followed Meg even to school, but she hid enough of the damage from her family, including her mother, out of pride and a feeling of vulnerability, that nobody let up and not even Meg’s mother put her foot down to stop it.

Lois herself still felt Meg could come back from the path she seemed to be on, still sometimes bullying her daughter wishing for the opposite of its actual effect. But as Lois’ hopes for her daughter faded, the family culture of bullying Meg rubbed off on her too with Lois sometimes letting a zinger or three fly Meg’s way for no other reason than that they were too funny to keep bottled up.

Meg seemed to have developed a thick skin, still appearing to know they all loved her despite the mistreatment, or Meg pretended she did, embracing or at least accepting her designated role as the butt of the family joke just to be part of it.

It was Meg after all so she was used to it.

It was Meg who sat down first to breakfast of french toast, with bacon and some tangerine wedges, followed by her father.

“This looks scrumptious, Mom, I’m glad I came down in time to eat it,” said Meg cheerfully.

“I’m glad you like it Meg, do you want milk or coffee?” pouring coffee into Peter’s mug as he walked in.

“I’ll have my Red Bull energy drink from the fridge,” said Meg, “if you don’t mind.”

Lois grabbed the can from the fridge next to her opening it before handing it to Meg on the far side of the table. Meg had trouble because she bit her fingernails down to the quick. She could have used a butter knife, but Lois was in the habit of opening cans for everyone.

“Yum, waffles,” said Peter sipping his coffee. He ate them in sandwich form with bacon, syrup and a slice of cheese.

“Chris! Come down and eat your breakfast before it gets cold,” yelled Lois, vaguely up the stairs.

“Is that a new necklace you have Mom?” asked Meg.

“What this? Yes it’s new Meg. I’m glad you like it.”

Meg thought it was too big, and a strange thing to wear when she hadn’t even changed out of her bathrobe yet this morning, but she was a little curious.

“Is that jewel nephrite or what? I like it,” said Meg, trying to draw out more information.

“I don’t know, I think it’s probably glass. I don’t know much about jewels. It wasn’t expensive or anything,” she replied.

Looking at the clock, Lois said, “Where’s Chris? I’m going up to see if he heard me.”