Chapter 5

Archie called his older sisters over with a patronizing grin, slapping his thighs like he was calling over playful puppies. “C’mon, mutts! C’mon girls, girly-girly, here, pup-pup-puppy, wag your arses, like good girls, Move your fat little butts, c’mon girl,” he slapped his thighs repeatedly to summon them.

The girls grinned as they crawled over. “Best sister? That’s a tough call,” Archie muttered, sticking his finger in his mouth like he was deep in thought. “Betty’s lazy and disobedient—Mum’s gotta tell her to do things once, twice, three times, and then just gives up and does it herself ‘cause it’s less hassle.” He shot a glance at Veronica. “And you? You do the bare minimum and expect to be treated special like you deserve a treat just for not whinging about making your brother his tea.”

I noticed the shame ripple across their pretty faces, but neither of them denied a word of it. Archie reached out and patted Veronica’s head like she was a pet, not his sister.

“As a sister, you’re shite,” he said flatly. “But as a dog? You’re tits. You’ve been wiggling and jumping higher than Betty, and you’ve not been yapping as much without barking. But as a sister?” He grinned down at her. “You’re a proper cunt, though.”

“I’m not disobedient! Archie!” Betty’s voice wavered, sounding genuinely hurt.

“You just spoke without barking and didn’t call me Mister Archie!” her brother shot back, his voice filled with disbelief at Betty’s audacity. He moved to slap his sister’s bare butt cheek, and she flinched. “I’m not gonna slap your bum—you’d enjoy that too much.” He stepped closer, pointing to the ground. “Nose to the grass, mutt. Keep it there ‘til you remember how to behave—and how to address your betters!”

Betty’s face flushed, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she let out a soft bark, lowering herself to the ground, her nose pressing into the grass. “Woof...” she muttered, her voice muffled with a hint of defiance. After a beat, she added, “I’ll remember, Mister Archie,” her tone dripping with bratty sarcasm, even as she wiggled her hips in mock submission.

“Woof, I am the better puppy!” Veronica preened, her voice dripping with triumph as she wiggled her hips like she’d won some grand prize. “I am a good girl! Rub my tummy, please, Mister Dalton!” she rolled and luxuriated in the grass, offering me a chance to rub her cute little bare belly.

I hadn’t expected the girls to actually enjoy this humiliating game of crawling around like pups, but somehow, they did. It was strangely arousing to me that they were so into it. Betty wasn’t far behind, competing for my attention!

“Yeah, good puppies, maybe, but good girls? That remains to be seen, but you ARE both still horny tarts who would rather finger bang yourselves than lift a finger to do anything to help Mum or me,” Archie said.

I grew more nervous because the neighbor was standing on the other side of the fence in his yard, and he could clearly see the girls—Betty with her ass up and face buried in the grass and Veronica following Archie like a yapping dog.

“There is a guy on the other side of the fence watching,” I whispered to Archie. I kept playing with the girls, teasing them, and luxuriating. If they saw the neighbor, they clearly didn’t care that he was watching us.

“Aye, he’s always out here around this time of day,” Archie waved to the neighbor. “Girls, bark at Mr. Johnson!”

Betty and Veronica turned to face him while on all fours and barked playfully. They were clearly unconcerned about the older man.

“This is an unusual game, even for you,” Mister Johnson said dryly. It was good to hear another American for once—I was starting to pick up my cousins’ British accents without even realizing it. “What happened to making mud pies?”

“Go on, tell him, Betty,” Archie said, giving his sister a light kick to her butt.

“We’re not playing in the mud today, Mister Johnson. This is my cousin, Mister Dalton. He’s babysitting us. We got in a bit of trouble earlier, so now we’ve got to be puppies,” she replied sweetly.

“You? Get in trouble? That never happens,” Mister Johnson shot back with playful sarcasm. Then he chuckled. “Well, at least he didn’t make you cut a switch from the tree out back. It must not have been that bad. What’d you do this time?” he asked from the other side of the fence. It was obvious he was used to the girls being disciplined, but judging from the smile on his face, he either found it amusing or didn’t take their rule-breaking very seriously.

Betty seemed dumbfounded by the question. “I don’t know. We’ve done a few naughty things today. Mister Dalton, this IS a punishment, right?”

I crossed my arms, letting her squirm for a second before answering. “The puppy bit?” I shrugged, glancing toward Mister Johnson with a faint smirk. “Not really. That was just to humble them after they threw a fit about how they had to eat, but as you can see, they are having a lot of fun with it, so it didn’t quite pan out as I thought.”

“The girls aren’t bashful,” Mr. Johnson agreed with a smile. He offered his hand over the fence, and I ran over to shake it.

I told him, “The toothbrushes, though? tell Mr. Johnson why those are in your backdoor, Betty!”

I assumed that confessing to what they had done might make them feel a little regret and shame.

Betty’s eyes widened; her face turned bright red. She glanced at Veronica, clearly hoping for some kind of rescue, but none was coming. After a long, tense pause, “We got caught playing with ourselves in the bathroom with the toothbrushes when we should have been going pooh,” she admitted sheepishly.

Betty sounded like someone admitting they were late for class, instead of admitting to something deeply perverted.

Betty sounded like she was admitting to being late for class, not like she was owning up to something deeply perverted. Her voice was casual, almost indifferent, as if shoving toothbrushes up her ass was just another part of the day. Mr. Johnson wasn’t shocked even when her brother explained that one of those brushes was his, and the other belonged to his mom.

“You two seem like you’re always in trouble for something. Usually, your mom gives you quick a spanking. Do you like this better?” Mr. Johnson’s smile suggested he didn’t think it was a very serious punishment and that the girls got themselves in trouble for a thrill.

“Honestly, I have forgotten it’s up my arse, and I don’t mind it a bit,” Betty admitted. However, she didn’t brag. She whispered the words—either embarrassed for feeling that way or worried I’d give her a stiffer punishment since this one was ineffective.

“Louder, Betty,” I said flatly. “Mister Johnson can’t hear you.”

She swallowed hard, and her voice trembled with humiliation as she nearly shouted. “I don’t mind it much; I barely feel it, Mr. Johnson.”

Archie chuckled darkly, shaking his head. Archie barked a laugh, shaking his head. “Of course you don’t, Betts. Only filthy little slags like you enjoy having toothbrushes shoved up your arse.” He turned to Veronica with a sneer. “You’re no better, Ronnie. Both of you love the feeling, don’t you? Proper naughty girls getting their jollies from it.”

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping but still loud enough for Mister Johnson to hear. “So, what is it then? Do you mind it—or are you getting your jollies from it?”

Betty’s face turned another shade of red, as she flashed her pretty angelic blue eyes at us. “I got off on it in the bath when I was having a wank, but now I don’t notice it much,” she said.

Archie wasn’t letting Veronica off the hook. He demanded she answer too. I watched her shift uncomfortably, her eyes flicking up to Mister Johnson like she was nervous to speak—which was odd, given how much of an extrovert she usually was. “No need to for modesty, Veronica. You are just a dirty girl that likes to play with her bum. No one expects you not to get a thrill from it. We can all see that snail trail dripping from your fanny,” Archie sneered. “I just want to hear you admit it out loud.”

Veronica’s face turned bright red, her eyes darting between Archie and Mister Johnson like she wanted the ground to swallow her whole. She shifted on her hands and knees, the toothbrush in her bum wobbling with the movement.

After a long, tense pause, she finally whispered, “You’re right, Mister Archie...” Her voice trembled, but she forced herself to keep going. “Girls like me don’t need modesty. I ... I do like it.” She let out a shaky breath, then added with a soft, reluctant bark, “Woof.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” I thought to myself. If I were out in my own backyard, naked in the grass, prancing around like a dog, shaking my butt and getting grass itch, while my sister and neighbor laughed at me, I’d die of mortification.

If I was asked why I had a toothbrush up my ass, and I had to confess I was caught masturbating and this was my punishment, I’d be resurrected just to come back as a humiliation zombie, wandering the earth in search of any scrap of my long lost self-respect and dignity.

And if my sister pointed out that my involuntary hard-on was proof that I was secretly enjoying it, forcing me to admit I got off on the whole thing? I’d probably boil in the oil of my own humiliation and evaporate into an embarrassed gaseous form, blowing away into nothingness.

“As long as you’re having fun,” Mister Johnson said like there was nothing wrong with enjoying yourself. He mentioned he used to have a dog years ago and offered to grab some old leashes and collars from his shed. “Might even have some stale dog treats and an old plastic dog bowl—though it’s a bit moldy. Do you guys want to play with them?”

Betty let out a giggle, wagging her hips as she crawled closer to the fence. “Yes, Mister Johnson! I’d love a collar!” she barked playfully, her face flushed but grinning wide. “I’ve been a very good puppy today. Woof! Oh wait, I guess it’s up to Mister Dalton and Mister Archie?”

“MISTER Archie, you got a promotion, did you Arch?” Mr. Johnson asked with a twinkle in his eye and a laugh on his lips.

“I am helping my cousin babysit these two because they are a handful,” Archie smirked and left out the part that he was being babysat as well. “When he is not here, I may bring these two outside to do the rounds as puppies, work a little fat off their bottoms.”

He shot a glance at his sisters to see their reaction, his grin widening. “Girls need attitude checks now and again, and they’ve clearly not been getting them enough because mum’s so busy all the time. They immediately tried to manipulate Mister Dalton into letting them get away with bloody murder.”

I hadn’t actually intended for him to be the boss when I wasn’t home. The girls had misconstrued my earlier instructions and I leaned into it.

Veronica shot Archie a quick glance, her cheeks pink but her tone even. “Mum never said that you are the boss of all the time, Mister Archie.” She followed it with a reluctant bark, knowing full well the rules weren’t changing anytime soon. Betty pouted and nodded her head in agreement with her sister.

“Do you want me to ask Mum if I can make you go outside to put on a puppy show?” Archie asked confidentially, almost like a threat, because he suspected she’d be fine with it. I could imagine him deciding it would be the only game from now on.

“Or, would you rather just bark and prance when I tell you dizzy tarts to get down on all fours and crawl about with your piss flappers hanging out?” He shot them a smug look. “You lot usually let me pick the games anyway ... so what’s it matter to you if we’re playing mud pie bakery, pin the tail on the tart, quim-quake races, fanny flop relay, arse-slap tag, swatch your fanny, or the Cruft’s Kennel Show for Munters and bitches?”

Those names sounded like some pretty intriguing games my cousins had come up with. A few of them sounded even more humiliating than prancing around naked like a puppy girl in the backyard.

“Wait, can we put on a PROPER Crufts kennel show?” Betty didn’t give a yes or no response. She barked excitedly at her sister, and Veronica barked in agreement.

“I think we can manage that,” Archie grinned earnestly. I quickly learned that Crufts was considered the quintessential dog show by people in England – far superior to the Westminster Kennel dog show.

The girls were fully into it now, crawling through the grass with their toothbrushes bobbing like wagging tails, barking and laughing like they’d forgotten how ridiculous they looked. Their hair was a mess, sweat glistening on their bare backs, and their tits bounced wildly with every quick movement. But they didn’t care anymore—not one bit.

When Mr. Johnson returned, he handed over some worn old leashes. You might have thought he was giving the girls golden treasure. They fawned over them and even bickered and squabbled over the nicer of the two leashes and collars. “Only too happy to help,” the older pervert smiled. I could tell from his expression that his mind was as blown as mine that these cute young girls were outside naked bent over and spread like this.

He suggested we get some cookies we could use as dog treats for the girls and rub their bellies when they are good puppies. The girls echoed his sentiments.

“Oh, can we, Mister Dalton? Pretty, pretty, please with sugar on top?” Betty preened.

“With a cherry on top of that sugar, and squirty cream for good measured,” Veronica added eagerly.

“It might ruin your dinner; remember, you’ve earned yourself some hot slices of sausage pizza!”

I looked at Archie to see if they even had cookies.”

The girls were already protesting, when Archie offered a compromise. “Cookies for girls? What’s next? You’ll want to have your own bed? A television in your room? I might be able to spare a few digestives if you are well-behaved minges! But you’ll have to earn every bite!”

The girls readily agreed and begged Mr. Johnson to watch. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world!” he laughed. “The only thing on TV right now is Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom, and I think I’d rather watch you pups be put through your paces.”

Archie disappeared into the house while the girls crawled back toward me, their breathing heavy but still giggling, their faces flushed from the heat and the absurdity of it all. Veronica tried to sit back on her heels, but the toothbrush in her ass made her wince and shift awkwardly. Betty wagged her hips, her collar snug against her neck, looking up at me with wide, eager eyes.

“On your backs, mutts! Let me see those pink bellies,” I smiled, and the girls dropped immediately onto the grass, with no modesty whatsoever, spreading their legs and offering me their tummies. I knelt down and rubbed their bellies.

“They are showing you a pink SOMETHING!” Mr. Johnson stood over us, looking down from his fence.

“Mr. Johnson seems more interested in your wet slits than he does your tummies, spread your legs a bit more,” I pulled Veronica’s legs apart to expose her further “So he can have a better view of your wet twat!”

Veronica blushed as I pet her head and focused on rubbing her sister’s tummy so that the neighbor could have an uninterrupted view of my cousin’s girly parts.

“Which one of them has the prettier pussy?” I asked boldly. My voice almost cracked when I heard myself ask a total stranger something so crass.

“It’s hard to say, they are both so pretty,” Mr. Johnson remained diplomatic and evasive. I wanted him to rank the girls because my theory was that they thrived on that.

“Betty, give him a better view so our neighbor can make a more informed opinion,” I spun Betty slightly, but she didn’t fight it or flinch when I spread her legs apart. I did something I might have considered unthinkable without first getting explicit permission before I began babysitting my cousins.

I reached between their legs and rubbed the nubs of their clits, the same way that I had caressed their bellies. “Let’s see which of these two mutts can get the most wet the quickest,” I stroked the two of them, and they both bit their lips while writhing with pleasure, as their faces turned red. “You have to have something objective to grade the two of them on.”

“In that case, I’d say Betty is the juiciest peach,” Mr. Johnson decided – Betty opened her mouth and was about to thank him politely. I grabbed her tongue and reminded her that she was a dog who could only speak in barks.

“The widest cunnie award has to go to Betty,” I fingered her pussy around the edges, and pulled it open. “Give Mr. Johnson a better view of your pink hams, he is letting you play with his dog collars, after all!”

“Y’all can keep those,” the older man smiled, and generously offered to let my cousins keep the leashes and collars he provided.

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Sure, I’ve got no use for them any longer. I won’t be getting any more dogs soon, and this is far more entertaining than I’ve seen in a long while,” he assured me. I thanked him and prompted the girls to thank their neighbor.

They were surprisingly courteous, considering the leashes would be used to treat them like dogs in their own backyard. “Thank you, Mister Johnson!” they cooed. “That’s quite considerate of you!”

My cousin returned with a package of McVitie’s Digestives. They looked like cookies to me, but my cousins called them biscuits, and the girls acted like they were some kind of rare delicacy. I tried one—it was mildly sweet, slightly salty, almost like someone had forced a cookie to mate with a Saltine cracker.

“Oi, don’t wank them off, we’ll never get a proper show if you give these slags too much of a thrill,” Archie scoffed, waving the biscuits just above their noses. The girls’ eyes locked onto them instantly, their faces dripping with desperate, decadent desire for them.

“Ooh, proper digestives?” they considered themselves lucky!

It probably helped things that they were creaming all over my finger when he gave them a preview of the treats.

My idea of biscuits was the soft, buttery kind made fresh in the South. But if these worked to keep my cousins motivated, that was all that mattered. I kept glancing toward the front yard, watching the driveway from the backyard, wondering when the pizza guy was finally going to get there.

“Let’s have a competition then and see how well-trained and obedient you really are,” Archie snapped his fingers until the girls were up on their knees, looking up at him. He held up halves of the digestive cracker, and the girls waited – begging eagerly.

“No whinging,” he lowered the biscuits, and when the girls snapped eagerly to get them, he teased his sisters by yanking them away. “Balance it on your nose like a proper circus dog, and you can taste,” he assured them.

My cousins behaved themselves long enough for him to place the cookies on their noses and balance them.

“Damn, I wish I had a camera for this,” Mr. Johnson crowed from the other side of the fence.

“Do you want to come over to our yard to get a proper view?” Archie offered.

“I couldn’t, I am supposed to be out here trimming hedges,” Mr. Johnson alluded to his wife finding out what he was doing.

“Seems to me you are out here almost every night, the hedges should be fairly well groomed by now,” Archie grinned impishly.

“You can be a helpful judge for our show,” I offered. Mr. Johnson obliged us and started over to my Aunt’s backyard. My cousins struggled to balance the cookie, and we overlooked it when they fell a little and gave them a second chance as long as they stuck their upturned noses in the air and tried to balance the biscuit.

Archie made the girls put in some effort just to earn a half of a biscuit balancing it on their noses.

“Who did it the best, Woof?” Veronica asked as she chewed her digestive. I was instinctively going to pick one of them because I felt that incremental praise made them more competitive. If I praise one, the other tries harder. I was about to learn that sometimes the both dig their heels in and work together to prove themselves even harder when they both get knocked down a peg.

“You narcissistic brown noser, that’s just the warm-up,” waving her off like she was getting ahead of herself. I knew he meant she was sucking up, but the fact that Veronica literally had a smudge of brown on her nose from balancing the biscuit made it all the funnier. Watching her ego deflate was almost as satisfying as seeing her on all fours.

Betty held her tummy and began giggling when Archie teased Veronica.

“What are you nattering on about? Finally saw your stretched out, sweaty, poop maker in the mirror did you? Archie sneered, turning on Betty. “Next time we’re making’ mud pies, maybe I won’t bother hosing you filthy slags down and making’ you scrabble in the dirt to pack some pies, Maybe I’ll just have you spread that great big shite hole of yours and squeeze out a cow-sized mud pie straight from your arse!”

“It’s not that stretched out is it?” Betty pouted, and spun around on her knees, spreading her cheeks so that Mr. Johnson and I could be a second opinion.

“If you think your ass is such a treasure to behold,” I reached down between her legs, pulled the brush out with a pop out of her tight asshole and asked her if she thought she’d like to sniff it. “No? it’s just a girl’s dirty fart hole – not some work of art!”

I pushed the brush back up her ass and noticed her face – it was a mixture of deep shame; humiliation and I’d say pleasure. She looked like she might cry from teasing, but her pussy started quivering and she backed up into the brush.