Girl Scout Cookies
Copyright© 2025 by Eddie Davidson
Chapter 1
Coming of Age Sex Story: Chapter 1 - In an alternate Universe, where girls aren’t expected to have modesty about their bodies, the Traditional Girl Scouts focus on humility, obedience, and hard work. It's Girl Scout season again, and that means Hailey and her sister Alex are selling their cookies. Classic Embarrassed Nude Female (ENF)/CNFM story with influence by NIS (Naked in School) stories. It's also a coming of age story for Hailey.
Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa mt/ft Ma/ft mt/Fa Fa/ft Teenagers Consensual BiSexual Incest Humiliation Light Bond Spanking Anal Sex Analingus Exhibitionism Facial Flatulence Food Masturbation Sex Toys Squirting Tit-Fucking Small Breasts Illustrated
“Girls, it’s a new school year, and you know what that means! We’re selling Girl Scout cookies today. After you clean up the kitchen, I want you in your uniforms and to load the car with these cookies,” Mom announced, her tone leaving no room for discussion.
Neither I nor my sister Alex protested. In our house, like in most homes around the country, girls our age were expected to do as we were told and smile while doing it. I know it might sound harsh to some people, but for us, it wasn’t. We’d grown up knowing we were loved and that meeting our parents’ expectations wasn’t a rule. It was the way our family worked. My parents believed firmly in traditional expectations for girls and guys being different.
The sky was the limit for a boy’s ambition. They could be anything they wanted to be, and they were trained from an early age to be the head of the household, and to adopt a more active role in society. The civic duty of Boy Scouts was completely different than that of girls.
They learned to scout, and we learned to sell cookies. They wore shorts, we wore short skirts. They were given more autonomy, and we were supervised.
Girls’ ambition was to be good daughters so they can eventually find good husbands, to become good moms and raise good daughters. We weren’t intended to be leaders or to make choices because they were often incorrect.
In some ways, it was a relief not to have to decide everything for ourselves. I was told once by my mother that it took a great deal of work to learn to follow. She even told me when she was my age that she resented that boys got allowances and free time. It was hard to believe that my mom ever held such radical beliefs.
Imagine what we’d do with allowances? My sister and I had never had to learn to even count money until we began selling our cookies. If there was something we needed, it was provided.
My sister and I were in nothing but long t-shirts and our bare feet like we were every morning during breakfast. We didn’t fully dress until after our family finished breakfast and we cleaned up. Mom told us what we should wear because we may have something going on that requires us to dress a certain way.
The rest of my family was fully dressed and ready to enjoy their Saturday. Our morning chores usually meant we were the last ones to shower, which means we typically took cold showers after all the hot water was gone.
Once again, I credit my Girl Scout training for making that easier to endure. I can still appreciate a cold shower with soap, compared to washing in the river on scouting trips.
“Do we have to journal again, Mom?” my sister Alex asked. I already knew the answer to that. I am not sure why my sister thought it necessary to even bring it up.
“Every Girl Scout is expected to journal her entire day, Alex! You leave nothing out; be explicitly honest and detailed. You should know this by now. You’ve been doing it since your first year as a Daisy.”
“It’s just so boring, and we have so much going on with High School. Does anyone care about how many cookies I sold or the chores that I did?” Alex asked with a frown.
“You aren’t writing to entertain or excite anyone, girls. You aren’t writing down the chores and accomplishments you completed. You are expected to be detailed and share your explicit personal thoughts and what you learned during the day. I’ll likely be the only one who reads them. I expect you to also include the relevant parts of the Girl Scout handbook that guided your reasoning throughout the day.”
“I’d like to read their journals, Mom!” my younger brother Darrin offered brightly, raising his hand from the table.
“Oh really?” Mom placed her hands on her hips. She was standing off to the side, washing dishes by hand while the guys finished eating.
“Yeah, I’d like to read a full count of how many times Hailey and Alex belched, coughed, sneezed, farted, wiped their bums, and took out the trash. It sounds riveting!”
I knew that a joke was coming! It was light-hearted and not cruel, and there was typical banter around the breakfast table.
“The girls won’t be keeping track of things they do at that detail level, Darrin. You are always free to read their journals at any time. Girl Scouts don’t keep secrets; that’s where dishonesty lives. Do you want more sausage?”
“Sure!” he said as he pushed his plate toward the sausage.
I stepped forward, filled his plate with two more sausages, and topped off his orange juice without asking. I offered him a biscuit and buttered it for him after he said yes.
My sister and I have always helped clean, cook, and serve the meals at our house. That’s how it is in traditional households. The guys usually sit down first and enjoy a nice meal. We can socialize with them. We aren’t treated like servants who have to quietly step and fetch.
Then, after we clear away their food, we take the leftovers, eat with our mom, clean up, and allow the men to get on with the critical business of the day before getting dressed. My father usually continues to stay and enjoy his coffee while reading his paper.
“Are you going to write anything dirty in your journal, Hailey?” Luke asked with glee. He knew that I didn’t want my private thoughts invaded, much less to share the more salacious fantasies and sexual adventures that I’d had as a young woman.
“I’ll write whatever happens, Luke. I doubt you’d want to read it. I am pretty boring,” I told him. The journal you are reading now is evidence of that.
They were almost finished eating; pancake syrup was drying on their plates as they picked at the remaining bits of food they wanted. My father quietly enjoyed his coffee, a Danish, and his newspaper.
I’m the oldest of four, with my sister Alex trailing nine months behind me. Our younger brothers, Luke and Darrin, are twins and were part of the Boy Scouts last year.
My mom volunteered to lead our troop, and she also volunteered to be a “Den Mother” for Luke and Darrin’s troop. Den Mothers don’t take on leadership roles in Boy Scouts; they handle the fluff stuff, like bringing snacks and cheering the boys on, celebrating their successes.
No one would ever take a woman seriously in charge of a Boy Scout troop.
This year, the Boy Scouts had a new Scout Master, whom my mom hadn’t met yet.
“Luke, Darrin, do you want to be in Boy Scouts again this year?” Mom asked, wiping crumbs from the counter with a damp rag. “You should know the girls’ troop is going to be joined with yours before you decide.”
“Seriously? They’re merging the troops?” Luke finished up his second helping of fresh hot cakes.
It was news to me and Alex as well, but our opinions weren’t solicited. Mom said that even if Girl Scout troop leaders were going to volunteer as Den Mothers to their linked Boy Scout troop anyway, it was up to them. She’d be a Den Mother this year whether they participate or not.
“Co-ed Boy Scouts? Does that mean we get to share pup tents on camping trips? ‘Cause I’m all for that,” Darrin laughed. Mom frowned but didn’t reply, and my father never looked up from his newspaper.
“Good point,” Luke snickered. “The girls can carry our gear, right? I mean, they’re joining us, might as well make themselves useful.”
My mom scoffed at the boys and chuckled.
Dad folded the paper, resting it on the table as he looked at Mom sternly. “Julie, I heard the boys ask you a question. Did you answer it?”
Mom’s mouth popped open slightly as she suddenly realized that the questions were serious.
I always enjoyed it when Mom got called out by Dad. She got this awkward look on her face, and her mouth hung open as she realized she made a mistake. Mom had far more freedom than I did, but in the grand scheme of things, she was a woman, and Dad was head of the household.
“I’m sorry, boys. I thought you were teasing the girls,” Mom explained, caught off guard. It was rare that my father dressed my mom down that way in front of us. It was refreshing to see my mother get taken down a notch, like my sister and I would have been.
“Yes, girls would probably carry the camp gear, but I doubt the pup tents are going to be co-ed. As I said earlier, this isn’t something they would consult a Den Mother about. I was sent a short email that Girl Scout Troop Leaders’ role will change because we’ll report to the Scout Master of our associated Boy Scout Troop, and we’d automatically be Den Mothers to their troop. I was already a Den Mother, so for me, that doesn’t change,” Mom shrugged.
Dad flashed her an expression that suggested she hadn’t been thorough enough in her response. Girl Scouts were required to be explicit in our answers. I had never seen it applied to Troop Leaders, but fair is fair when it comes to females, as far as I am concerned.
Mom stopped cleaning and addressed the boys thoughtfully. She usually addressed their questions calmly and patiently. “It’s not up to me what the rules are going to be in the linked brother-sister troops; that’s up to the Scout Masters. If I had to venture a guess, the girls would handle most of the camp setup, cooking, and organizing, like they do at home. The boys? You will focus on leadership, skills, and enjoying a good camping trip. Do you want me to sign the permission slips this year and enroll you as a Boy Scout? I think you have enough badges to be First Class Scouts this year.”
“Yeah, sure! It sounds like a blast,” Darrin and Luke both agreed. I didn’t mind that my brothers would have a good time, and honestly, I knew we’d probably end up doing the lion’s share of the cooking and camp work. We always did when we had joint Boy Scout operations in the past. It sounded like we’d be merging completely now as one organization.
My brothers never took scouting all that seriously, even though they had spiffy new uniforms provided every year. The Boy Scouts don’t have the same rigor when it comes to re-use and recycle.
“I think it’s great that they married the two organizations. Girl Scouts were created by the wife of the man who created Boy Scouts. It made no sense for them to have redundant leadership in the first place.”
I’ve been taught about the founder of Girl Scouts since I was a Daisy (1st year Girl Scout). Juliette Low’s nickname was “Daisy,” and that’s the inspiration for that title.
We were Cadettes last year, but this year, we were supposed to be Senior Girl Scouts (5th rank), and we’ve never missed a year. My brothers were going to be in the 4th rank this year for Boy Scouts (First Class).
“Are you boys finished? Can we sit down and eat?” Mom asked the guys at the table if they wanted anything else before directing us to clear away everything except their drinks. It’s not a formal shift change.
We joined the guys at the table and started helping ourselves with what was left over. The pancakes were still relatively warm, but most of the bacon was gone, only the fatty pieces remained.
Resourcefulness and Prudence:
Excerpted from the Girl Scout Handbook;
A Girl Scout must make do with what is provided or available without complaint or seeking sympathy from others. Girl Scouts embrace austerity and simplicity as virtues.
Accepting less desirable or leftover food without complaint, including eating cold or bland meals that others have deemed unappetizing, to embody humility and prudence.
There was enough food to sustain us; it wasn’t gross or disgusting, and it wasn’t as bad as the slop we get when we go to the Girl Scout Jamborees every year. Camping and roughing it outdoors has taught me to appreciate the food that we receive. We’ve learned to live off the land, and having fatty bacon would be far better than no bacon at all, like when we are learning to survive in the woods.
“Can I have the rest of your orange juice if you aren’t drinking it?” I asked Luke. He had more than half a glass, and he was preparing to get up from the table.
“Hailey! How dare you. What’s wrong with water?” Mom asked in a huff before my little brother could answer.
“It’s okay, Mom. Hailey can have my juice. I was going to throw it out,” he pushed it over to me.
“Water is good enough for girls,” Mom frowned before deciding that I should pour half of Luke’s orange juice into Darrin’s empty glass and share it with Alex. “I’ll indulge you since Girl Scouts should learn not to waste resources, but fair is fair; your sister can have some, too.”
“Sorry Alex, I should have offered,” I happily poured the glasses evenly to split between us.
“I am sorry, Mom. I don’t know what the big deal is. I wasn’t going to drink it anyway. Should I have told Hailey that she can’t have it?” Luke asked politely.
“You are a good brother, and you love your sister. You also didn’t want to waste orange juice. You should tell her what you think is best, Son. I don’t want the girls to get spoiled and uppity and make you boys feel sorry for them. Water is good enough for me; fair is fair.”
My mom was right. She clearly didn’t enjoy being called out by her sons but even she had to adhere to certain laws of nature and luxuries would spoil her the same way they would my sister and me.
“Yeah, but we have plenty of orange juice. Oranges grow on trees. Why can’t you have some if you want it? I’ve never understood that,” Darrin added.
“Son,” My dad explained before my mom could answer. “Water fills a biological and dietary need. It’s literally a key component of every cell, tissue, and organ in the body. Orange juice is a luxury, a want. That’s different than a need. If we allowed the girls to have luxuries every day because it’s plentiful, they would start expecting it and take it for granted.”
He was correct, obviously. I hated to admit that men were always right about things like this.
My father looked at me with disappointment before continuing, “Hailey should have thanked you, but she failed to see the need for any gratitude. She also failed to offer a third to her mother. Hailey, you can stand for the rest of the breakfast and give your half of the orange juice to your mother.”
“Yes, Sir,” I immediately stood up. My brother snickered as I handed my half of Luke’s orange juice to my mother. “I am sorry, Luke. I should have expressed more gratitude, and I am sorry, Mom. I didn’t know I was being so selfish! You should have the rest of the orange juice. That was greedy of me.”
I was raised to believe that a good Girl Scout explicitly learns to accept responsibility for what she did and asks for forgiveness, even when she knows it won’t be forthcoming. It was not the end of the world that I had hogged the orange juice, but I genuinely attempted to apologize. It wasn’t a forced apology out of a desire to minimize my punishment. I’ve done those as well, but not for something like this.
I owned it. That was my mistake.
I was also raised to believe what my father said and so have all women since as far back as history has been recorded. There were rabble-rousers who believed it was unfair or cruel not to give women the same things that men have, but that’s like giving children the same luxuries and privileges that adults have.
Loyalty and Obedience:
Excerpted from the Girl Scout Handbook;
A Scout is unwaveringly loyal and obedient to serve her troop, family, and country. This loyalty is demonstrated through her willingness to prioritize the needs of others, fulfill her duties, and respect the leadership of her betters. Obedience is not blind submission but a conscious commitment to understanding her role and performing her responsibilities with discipline and dedication.
A Girl Scout never puts her wants and ambitions above the needs of her troop, family, and country. She must be satisfied when their needs are met, refraining from envy, jealousy, or selfish desires for praise, pleasure, or special treatment.
Special treatment that singles out individual girls with rewards or additional restrictions should be avoided out of a sense of fairness, that all girls are equal to one another within their given rank within the Girl Scouts.
“I’ll tell you why.” Mom took a sip of the orange juice and savored it. “Hailey had the entire summer off from Girl Scouts, and she’s slipping into the habit of women toward self-indulgence and failure to express gratitude. Thank you, Philip, for doing what is right, and thank you and Luke for the orange juice. I’ll enjoy it.”
My mom smiled at me while taking her place at the table and eating her breakfast with us.
“Your sister and mother are women, and they have all of their needs met. That’s how it is for women across the world and how it’s been for generations. They have it better than my mother and sisters did. Not everyone has it as good as we do, son. There are families where tough choices have to be made when resources are limited. Luxury items are one of those things that can’t be passed around.”
“It’s kind of like a diet,” Darrin observed. I hadn’t heard that before, so I was intrigued by what my little brother might say. “Skinny people can have donuts, but fat people who are on a diet can’t.”
“That’s one way to look at it, son,” my father complimented him.
“The only one fat here is me,” Alex pouted. She can be book smart about some things but lacks common sense at other times. She also THINKS she is fat, but she’s a little chubby. Her huge knockers that sprouted last summer and big buffalo butt make her look much heavier than she is. She also has cute chubby chipmunk cheeks, which give the impression she has a fat face.
“No, I think what your brother means, Alex, is that because girls have a tendency to be spoiled and take things for granted, it’s best to give them limits. In the same way that someone who is a glutton can’t control their appetite, but most people can, women have to have different rules. The system works because everyone knows their place in the hierarchy.”
“It’s thoughtful that you boys ask these questions,” Mom encouraged them. “You are getting older now and are in high school. You’ll start encountering other families that are far stricter than we are and realize that the women in your own family have it good!”
“We should all be glad that some liberal nutcase hasn’t decided to push the agenda that there’s no difference between genders when we know there is. Girls handle the details and keep things running, while the boys focus on ambitions, and that’s why I am less concerned about indulging you. If you had insisted on wasting your orange juice instead of letting your sister have it when she asked politely, then I might be concerned. I might even start limiting your access to luxury items, too!”
“Dad!!” Luke frowned at the thought of being denied orange juice when and if he wanted it. It can be shameful to watch boys get everything handed to them, but it was something I had accepted a long time ago as the way things were. “What if I had thought that Hailey wasn’t going to be grateful and decided I’d rather pour it down the sink than let her have it?” he asked.
“That would be fine because you are teaching your sister a lesson, but I’d prefer you leave those educational lessons to me and your mother, Son.”
“I want to help out! I am getting older now! The girls do all the chores. Making sure they aren’t wasting orange juice is the least we could do,” Luke half joked dryly.
“Yep, quite literally, the least we could do,” Darrin stood up from the table to leave.
My jaw tightened. It was a common belief that girls didn’t need anything other than water to drink.
“Girls, don’t take it so hard. We wouldn’t give orange juice to a dog or a cat, either,” my mom said. “Water is good enough for the three of us.”
“You are getting older now and you are in high school. If you want to help around the house, I am okay with that,” Dad spoke. He instructed my mom to keep an eye on the boys and let him know if the lessons became cruel or sadistic.
“Of course, Philip. I doubt the boys would ever be cruel or sadistic,” Mom sipped the orange juice as proof. She doted on my brothers, and Darrin was the golden boy who could never do anything wrong in her eyes.
“Would you say the same if a man told you that you can’t have his leftover juice?” Luke said as he stood up to join Darrin and leave us to finish up our breakfast. We usually eat quickly and were almost done.
“Fair is fair. All the girls in the troop have the same expectations, and all the Den Mothers have the same expectations. It would be unfair to hold us to the same standards and expectations of men. I don’t expect to get juice, so any that you boys want to throw my way, I am happy to have! I am also proud of you for wanting to step up around the house and take a more active role.”
She came around to where they were and hugged and kissed them. The boys wiped the kisses off and said now they were re-thinking the whole “helping out around the house” thing if it came with Mom kisses.
“Sorry! No matter what you do, it comes with Mom’s hugs and kisses,” she teased them playfully with pride. She turned to us and looked at our plates. “Speaking of which, I am proud of you two!” She hugged us both tightly and kissed us with the same affection as she had for the boys.
My mom is a very affectionate person. “I love you both, and I am proud of you for becoming Senior Girl Scouts. I am also going to hold you to even higher standards than when you were Cadettes last year!” She promised.
“Yes, Ma’am,” we agreed and told her we understood and loved her back. We weren’t saying that. My mom is my role model, my idol, and my mom. She has flaws and insecurities and makes mistakes like anyone, but I’d never seriously doubted her or my father’s leadership or judgment.
She patted us playfully on our bare butts under our nightshirts. “Speaking of which, you girls have been lollygagging and eavesdropping on the conversation long enough. Go upstairs and bring down last year’s uniform, a fresh set of white cotton panties, anklet socks or knee-highs, and your saddle shoes. I want to make sure that it all still fits.”
As Cadettes we never got to wear panties, so at least that was an upgrade. Scout leaders only restrict panties on older girls when we can’t stop wetting them, or as a punishment. Bras on the other hand were still very optional and scouts with little boobies like mine almost never got to wear them.
“What about a bra?” Alex asked as she pointed to her huge breasts. As I mentioned, they sprouted over the summer. At first, she was so proud to show them off, but now that she’s had them for a few months, she’s learning how even the simple act of jogging causes them to bounce like two basketballs being dribbled down the basketball court.
“No, not until I’ve assessed if your tunic will even button up,” Mom decided pragmatically. “Obviously, Hailey, until your puffy little booby-nubs blossom, you won’t even need a training bra,” she chuckled.
Mother nature hasn’t been kind to me in the booby department, and I’ve heard them all, itty bitty titties, nubbly wubblies, bee stings. It’s still a bit humiliating to know that my little sister has a huge rack, and I’ve got nothing going on up top.
My brothers were in the living room, starting up their video games. They had a day of leisure planned, starting and usually ending with video games.
“Yes, Ma’am,” we both replied obediently. We didn’t have to call her Ma’am, it wasn’t a rule, but usually, when she gave us instructions, we did. I could hear my brothers snickering about my mother’s decision on whether we could wear a bra with our uniform or not.
“You didn’t wear a bra last year because neither of you needed one. You don’t need one this year, either. You have the same nipples that you had last year.” It could be a little humiliating to have our undergarments discussed openly around the family, but my mother doesn’t believe girls need modesty.
When she says “modesty,” she doesn’t mean being humble or not pretentious. She does believe we need that kind of modesty, being humble and understanding our role, not putting on airs or acting above others.
The modesty she means is that girls don’t need to be shy or bashful about their bodies. It’s not that she wants me and my sister to act like brazen sex pots, it’s that she thinks it’s unnecessary for girls to have privacy or be sensitive and vain about our bodies. We get spanked openly in the living room, and we’ve not only had our undergarments discussed, but we’ve also had to change into and out of them in the living room.
“Ugh, I can’t believe Mom won’t let me wear a bra,” my sister whispered once we were upstairs grabbing our uniforms. We’ve shared a room for as long as I could remember. My sister and I are so close in age I don’t remember her as a baby. It’s almost like we are the same age because we are in the same grade.
“At least you have tits; I’m a scarecrow,” I tapped my chest as I gathered up last year’s uniform. We share a small closet, a chest of drawers, and a bed. My brothers share a room as well, but they have bunk beds, and each of them has their own closet.
“I’ve become a cow, Hailey! I’d go back to being flat if I could,” my sister observed.
“Really? Boys notice you and check you out!”
“I feel like a charging Elephant, and guys are looking at me like I am a clown, with huge floppers.” She reached up and jiggled her droopy, natural tits with her hands through her shirt. “It’s definitely humiliating having big boobs. You’ll see when yours come in.”
“I am probably never going to get titties like yours, but I can assure you that Luke and Darrin are going to laugh at me more than you,” I said as I turned to the door to get downstairs. I could hear my mother calling us. “I am already dressed! All you had to do was grab your uniform. Are you up there playing with yourselves?”
Yes, you heard that correctly. My mother yelled upstairs to ask if we were masturbating. We aren’t allowed to keep our door fully closed during the day because of her suspicion we might be pleasuring ourselves like dirty little perverts.
“No, Mom, we’re coming!” I yelled back as I rushed with my uniform in my hands.
“That’s what I am afraid of,” she quipped playfully as a play on the word cumming. I heard my brothers and father chuckle as we raced back downstairs. I offered a lemony smirk.
“Everyone plays with themselves,” I reminded my family as I walked downstairs holding my clothes. We have the kind of relationship where we can talk and joke openly about our sexuality (which is the reason my mom had zero qualms about implying that’s what was taking us so long. We’d only been gone a few minutes).
“Yes, but you girls are on a short leash at home. You can’t dilly-dally and do as you please, and you are entitled to zero privacy! Speaking of which, off with the shirts. I would have expected you to know you had to take the shirts off upstairs. Now, you’ll have to fold them and take them back when we are done.”
I’ve changed in front of my father and brothers before. It’s always a fresh humiliation to have to change in the living room or kitchen when they are watching. It’s strangely more embarrassing when they ignore it and act like it’s not that surprising at all.
It’s not an everyday thing where we have to change all the time in the living room. However, even if it was, no one would be entirely shocked in the family. As I mentioned, my family believes that girls don’t need modesty.
It’s seen as trivial by the rest of my family. It’s still embarrassing that my sister and I are the only ones expected to strip whenever or wherever we are told around the house.
Alex already had her shirt pulled up over her head, revealing her thick mane of pure black pubic hair.
My brothers continued to game, but I heard them snicker. My father sat calmly on the couch next to my mom while she hurried us to get changed right in front of her and the rest of my family.
“C’mon, everyone here has seen what you have, Hailey. It’s nothing special.” It was non-negotiable. I removed my long shirt and started to try on last year’s uniform in the living room.
Uniform and Presentation – Reinforcement of Girl Scout Swallowing of their Pride and Vanity.
Excerpted from the Girl Scouts’ Handbook;
Girl Scouts should always remember that the inspection of uniforms is for their own good. It may seem humiliating to expose oneself to an inspection, but consider how much more embarrassed you would be of unsightly hairs, blemishes, sweaty pits, or stinky bottoms?
All Girl Scouts learn the “S.W.A.L.L.O -W” method.
S – Stand and Strip – The Scout presents herself for inspection, removing any non-compliant uniform items as directed and standing at attention in whatever state of dress or undress the inspecting authority requires.
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