Chapter 6

I was deeply entrenched in the naughty puppy games we were playing outside and almost didn’t hear the doorbell when it rang. The sound broke the stalemate between my competitive cousins. I was enjoying the bouncing butts, and the humiliating games – but it was time for dinner! The girls were going to have to get the pizza from the delivery guy, which was going to be a whole new level of mortification for them.

“You both tied,” I announced as I snatched their cookies from their noses.

Veronica’s face fell, her freckled nose scrunching up as her dark brows knitted together. Her lips pushed into a pout, and she sat back on her heels, arms crossed beneath her bare chest. She was clearly pissed off.

“Are we not to have our digestives after all that, then?” she called after me, her voice carrying that unmistakable tone of a girl who felt thoroughly cheated of her victory. I absolutely adored how competitive the girls could be with one another and how deeply they sought my approval.

She didn’t like being paddled, but she allowed me to use a wooden paddle on her ass. She would have let me keep going if I had insisted on the full forty swats, she had earned for being caught with her mother’s dildo. My cousin had voluntarily pushed her toothbrush up her ass when I punished her for masturbating with it in the bathroom when she was supposed to be taking a crap. Veronica humiliated herself by crawling around like a puppy in her backyard.

I found it amusing that she drew the line and was not able to have half of a digestive cracker she felt she had earned! She looked as if she was about to call it quits and tell me to go to hell for being unfair to her.

I hadn’t intended to deny the girls their crackers. I just didn’t want the pizza guy to leave because we didn’t open the door fast enough.

“Stop sulking; of course, you can both have your crackers,” I tossed it to her, and it landed on the concrete by her knees.

“Thank you, Mister Dalton,” Veronica brightened as she picked it up and ate it. Betty’s blue eyes gleamed as she picked hers up and ate it as well. I called my cousins to follow me. I’d be blowing most of my allowance on this pizza.

“I can’t bloody wait for this pizza,” Veronica chimed, practically bouncing as we rushed inside. Her grin was wide, eyes gleaming with anticipation. “Are we finishing the contest right after, Mister Dalton?” she asked, barely containing her excitement.

“Yes,” I assured the girls. I was having a blast. I think their main concern was that I might get bored and forget about their competition – and I hadn’t expected them to be so enthusiastic at all.

I turned to Mr. Johnson. “You sticking around to judge?”

He shook his head. “Wish I could, but I’ve gotta get home. Can’t wait to hear who wins, though.”

“Oh, we’ll be sure to inform you tomorrow, Mister Johnson,” Betty purred, soaking up the attention. She tilted her head, flicking her hair back with a smug little smirk. “I’ll have my ‘Best Puppy Ever’ ribbon, so you’ll know it was me straight away!”

“Don’t count your chickens just yet, sis!” Veronica shot back, grinning. My cousin hadn’t intended it, but she gave me an idea.

“When you greet the pizza guy, I want you to do the Funky Chicken at the door,” I decided firmly.

“The what?” Veronica stared at me, completely lost.

I planted my feet, bent my knees, and stuck my arms out at my sides, hands flapping as I hunched forward. “Like this,” I said, bobbing my head in time as I jerked my elbows back and forth. Mr. Johnson and Archie snorted, trying—and failing—not to laugh. The girls smirked, clearly amused by how ridiculous I looked.

“Are we to do other animals, Mister Dalton?” Betty asked, unfazed and clearly eager to give it a go.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

My cousin set her hands on her hips, elbows jutting backward as she stuck her head forward, then back, mimicking the movement. “Bit like Mick Jagger, innit?” She threw in a few exaggerated steps, testing it out, before adding with a smirk, “I mean, we were puppies just now, and now we’re bloody chickens. What next? Are we working our way through Old MacDonald’s farm by the end of the night?”

Archie scoffed, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “Sounds about right. You lot already stink like pigs, eat like cows, got the sense of a stunned sheep, and the grace of a flock of geese on a motorway. The only thing left is to shove a carrot up your arses and call you donkeys.

“How bloody cheeky! You want to be the boss of us whenever it suits your fancy and have us prancing about like a pair of donkeys? It’s one thing making your tea or folding your laundry, but you’d have us braying like a pair of right jackasses too?” Betty wrinkled her nose in mock outrage.

“What’s the difference? Mister Dalton’s already got you flapping your arms and clucking like a chicken,” Archie shot back.

“That’s for punishment, innit?” Betty turned to me, arching a brow.

I really wasn’t sure if it WAS a punishment, as much as I just wanted to make my cute cousins do it. I had only just thought of it after Veronica mentioned chickens.

“Remember, you’re also supposed to greet the pizza guy just as you are -completely naked. Then ask if it’s unfair that you’ve got toothbrushes shoved up your asses as punishment—for getting caught getting off with them in the bathroom when you were supposed to be taking a shit. And don’t forget, they belonged to your mom and brother. You need to ask if he thinks you should have to wait for her to get home, confess what you did, and beg for forgiveness. I want to see you flapping your wings, clucking your beaks, and begging like good little chicken-twats.”

Archie burst out laughing, and Mister Johnson joined in. What surprised me was that the girls chuckled, too.

“We get it—make proper fools of ourselves!” Betty and Veronica laughed it off. They were a little reluctant to answer the door, but it didn’t take much coaxing. The whole scenario seemed to amuse them.

The delivery guy looked familiar. I recognized him from school—some football player, but we didn’t exactly run in the same circles. He was clearly stunned to find two pretty, naked girls standing there, wearing nothing but collars and hair bows.

“Brian Wingate?” they cooed, practically melting on the spot. Their faces were already pink, but now? They were scarlet. The fact he was stupidly handsome just made it worse for them. Then again, if he’d been some nerdy wimp they had to fawn over, they’d probably be just as mortified.

Brian grinned, holding up the pizza box. “Twelve bucks,” he said.

The girls patted their thighs, making it obvious they had no money on them. The way they stood, I could tell they were hoping he’d step inside.

I reached for my wallet, ready to hand them the cash, but Mister Johnson stopped me. “Nah, I’ve had too much fun tonight. Least I can do is cover the pizza,” he said with a grin, pulling a twenty from his wallet and passing it to the girls.

My cousins were clearly having second thoughts. They froze, shifting on their feet, hands fidgeting at their sides as they awkwardly stared at Brian—waiting for him to say something as they paid him.

I had a feeling this wasn’t the first time Brian had seen a naked woman answer the door for a pizza. It might’ve been the first time he’d seen two do it together, though.

Veronica tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, glancing at Betty before clearing her throat. “Would you come inside? We’ve got to ask you a question,” she said, her voice just a touch too high like she was asking him to homecoming.

“Cluck-cluck, chickens,” Archie jeered, shoving them toward the door before launching into a sing-song. “Chick, chick, chick, chick, chicken, lay a little egg for me!”

The girls hesitated the second they stepped outside, their eyes darting up and down the street. No one in sight—but that didn’t mean a car wouldn’t come rolling past any second.

Brian chuckled as they moved forward and, with visible reluctance, began flapping their arms and bobbing their heads, their knees bending awkwardly with each exaggerated step.

Their voices wavered as they picked up the rhyme, out of sync but managing to stumble through it—flapping, clucking, and swaying like ridiculous, overgrown birds bending at the knee.

They were so busy wiggling their asses, shaking their tits, squatting low, and clucking while Brian giggled that they completely forgot to ask about the toothbrushes. It seemed like a dance number straight from a Benny Hill sketch.

It may have helped that Archie, Mister Johnson, and I were laughing, but Brian found it absolutely hysterical. It wasn’t sexual or even remotely sexy – it was absurd, ridiculous, and entirely over the top.

Brian doubled over, hands on his knees, laughing so hard he could barely breathe. “I—fucking—hell,” he wheezed between gasps, wiping a tear from his eye. “I have never seen anything like this in my life!” He clutched the pizza bag to his chest like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

Betty and Veronica, still flapping, lurched toward him, eyes wide with panic. “Please, Brian, don’t tell anyone at school about this!” Betty blurted, her voice an urgent whisper.

“Yeah, not a word?” Veronica pleaded; her hands clasped together like she was begging for divine intervention.

“I get it. You were doing a dare or something,” Brian grinned, shaking his head as he stepped back toward his car. “No one’d believe me even if I had a polaroid to prove it,” he said, still chuckling as he opened the door. “Y’all have a good night—and thanks for the laugh.”

The girls creamily bid him a fond farewell. They were completely unconcerned with their modesty; they stood there, bare and beaming, basking in his attention as if he were some rock god who had just graced them with his presence. Their faces were flushed, but I think they were just turned on and not humiliated at all.

Brian slid into his car, giving them one last amused glance before shaking his head with a wide, knowing smirk. He pulled away, his grin lingering like he’d just been let in on the best secret of his life. He pointed at me as if I was a cool kid. I wondered if he’d talk to me about it when I went back to school on Monday. He probably didn’t know they were my cousins and thought that I was over there to fuck the girls.

The girls squealed and giggled and turned to waddle back in the house. I was tempted to shut the door on them just to see how they’d react. I could imagine if my sister was teasing me in the same way, she’d lock me out of the house naked in the front yard, and I’d be terrified.

Betty and Veronica were such good sports about it and even continued dancing and singing bits of the nursery rhyme that I didn’t feel it was warranted to lock them out. I was going to have to break it to them that they completely forgot to ask him about the toothbrushes – and that was probably going to disappoint them.

The moment the door shut behind them, Betty and Veronica let out giddy squeals like they had just met Bon Jovi, Rob Lowe, and David Lee Roth combined into one sex symbol. “Brian Wingate, at our house! Oh my!! I can die happy now!” Veronica said dramatically.

Their laughter bubbled up between breathless giggles as they nudged each other with their elbows, their eyes still wide with adrenaline.

“Oh my God,” Betty gasped, clutching the pizza box to her chest like it was some sacred relic. “Did you see the way he looked at me? He wanted me! He looked me right in the eyes and licked his lips.”

““Wanted you? Wanted you to get out the fucking way so he could talk to me, more like!” Veronica scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Wanted you to grow a set of proper tits or wash your stenchy twat?”

The girls obviously had a habit of throwing one another under the bus and bicker. I decided to let them continue because Mr. Johnson and Archie seemed just as amused by the back-and-forth tear-down as I was.

“You’ve tits the same size as mine, and your hairy piss-flaps smell just as bad as mine,” Betty countered and added, “You were singing off-key like a drunken slapper whose had six pints too many, shimmying like a trollop on heat.”

“Gobshite!” Veronica huffed. “We’ll see who he talks to on Monday! Big Bird, flapping around like some gormless twat with your knees knocking together, or—” She flicked her hair over her shoulder, tilting her chin up. “Me. Poised, graceful, legs for days—like a fucking page three girl with class. I bet he’s thinking about me right now.”

Betty let out an exaggerated groan.

“You vain little spunk-flaps, the only thing he’s thinking about is what a pair of Muppets you looked like drooling over him like a couple of desperate tarts who get laid they crawled up a chicken’s ass and waited!” Archie folded his arms, shaking his head. “You really think Brian fucking Wingate—the most popular bloke in school—will be wanking off to your worthless bit of muff covering your gashes?”

The girls were stunned in their tracks as they turned to face their brother, heads down in shame.

“Brian’s dated Laurie Wagner AND Dove Madison—both head cheerleaders, both built like fucking glamour models.” Archie scolded them over their hubris. “You really reckon he’d trade a fucking Lotus Esprit for two busted Austin Metros with toothbrushes hanging out of their farty arses?”

The moment Archie said it, their faces dropped. I saw it—wide eyes, mouths slightly open, a slow, dawning horror creeping in that they neglected to ask for permission to take the brushes out before telling their mom about it. They reminded me of two birds who’d just flown straight into a fucking window.

Their hands shot behind them at the same time, fingers fumbling at their backsides as if somehow, some way, they could undo the last few minutes of their lives.

“Oh, shit,” Betty whispered, her voice barely there.

“We forgot!” Veronica gasped, spinning to me in sheer panic. “Mister Dalton, that shouldn’t count, right? We were distracted!”

They both stared at me, pleading, still clutching their own asses like that would make the problem disappear.

I folded my arms. “I reminded you twice, and that’s not my problem. Our pizza’s getting cold. Now, thank Mister Johnson for buying it, apologize for bickering like two brats in front of him, then carry it into the kitchen and put two slices on plates for your brother and me.”

I felt no sympathy for them – in fact, I thought it was kind of funny.

Betty and Veronica exchanged a look before pouting. “We don’t get pizza?”

I sighed. “I told you that you would. But right now, I’m telling you to put ours on plates.”

Betty huffed dramatically but turned to Mister Johnson with a forced little smile. “Sorry for acting like a right pair of gobshites in front of you, Mister Johnson. You know how we are. We do appreciate the pizza very much!”

Veronica nodded and echoed her sister’s apology and expression of gratitude. I was tempted to make the two of them curtsy. They sounded very formal, like Tim Curry and the woman who played the maid in the movie Clue.

Mister Johnson chuckled, shaking his head as he grabbed his coat. “You two are something else. Enjoy your night.”

“You’ve nothing to whinge about; your gobby fart holes are so wide that you barely feel the brushes now, don’t you?” Archie teased them.

“I don’t know why you have to call it a fart-hole, I barely break wind, maybe once or twice a day,” Betty pouted and blushed.

“I call it a fart hole because If I called it a cum-hole, you wouldn’t know if I met your bum or your quim; now, can we have our pizza, or do you plan to stand there all day acting like I’ve no right to tease you about using MY brush to satisfy your horny little urges?”

“You could be less vulgar and call my arse an arsehole, or at least a shite or crap hole,” Betty pouted and blushed.

“Then how would we tell the difference between that yapper on your face, unloading verbal crap, and telling fibs like you’ve no remorse,” Archie giggled.

“You could call my gob a pizza hole for all I care, as long as we get it before it turns cold, Mister Archie?” Betty pleaded.

“I’ll call all your holes a cock hole because to hear you tell it, you’ve taken cock up the arse, in the mouth, fanny, and any place else a guy wants to stick it,” he teased.

“Guilty as charged,” Betty was proud of her sexual appetites and saw that as a compliment.

“I don’t believe girls need pizza any more than they do modesty to cover their hairy quims, but Mister Dalton thinks you’ve earned it,” Archie directed his older sisters to the kitchen.

The girls shuffled off quickly to put our pizza on plates. Mr. Johnson shook my hand “Pleasure meeting you, son. Hope I see you again.” He chuckled, glancing toward the kitchen. “This is ... quite different from the norm.”

“Yeah, my mum would never let them do contests, flirt with cute blokes, have pizza, or skip out on a proper punishment—especially not for something that doesn’t even bother them,” Archie told me seriously.

“I appreciate you supporting me anyway. I’m not a cruel taskmaster, Archie,” I said as we bid goodbye to Mister Johnson.

“Me neither,” Archie shrugged. “Normally, I let my mum handle things with the girls and keep my distance. I can see how frustrating they can be.”

“They act nice, but if you let ‘em, they’d scoff the whole pizza and leave us with f*ck all. And let’s be honest—my toothbrush? Wouldn’t be shocked if they’ve been getting their kicks with that for months.” He shook his head, completely unfazed. “Not even surprised. That’s just typical of those two.”

“Does your mum spank the girls in front of Mister Johnson?” I asked while we were alone. I assumed that my cousin Archie never got spanked or even disciplined by his mother.

“Mum would take their panties down in front of the pope if they misbehave,” Archie regarded me as if I were an idiot for asking something so basic. “Where we come from, it takes a village, so if any adult for a girl doing something she shouldn’t, they’ve permission to give them a spanking.”

“Yes, obviously,” I nodded and made it seem like that’s how it worked where I lived as well without coming out and saying that. I wondered what life was like for girls in the Surrey country. I’d heard it was like that in the 1970s, around where I grew up. People’s attitudes had been changing about corporal punishment in recent years. You rarely even saw someone get spanked by teachers in school anymore.

The girls were used to sitting on their butts in the kitchen, but I wanted them on all fours. They smiled as they set our plates with pizza on the table. “These are for you,” I smiled right back. “I assume you spit on them,” I said.

“Nothing could be further from the truth,” Veronica and Betty’s smiles faded after I accused them of sabotaging our pizza. “Why would we do that? You are giving us pizza and being sweet to us!”

“Why did you manipulate me into letting you play with yourselves? And why did Betty trick me into catching her with her mother’s dildo? Who the hell knows why girls do what they do? You can’t be trusted.”

Archie burst out laughing, shaking his head. “You’ve got the right of it, Mister Dalton,” he chuckled, watching as his sisters turned scarlet.

They didn’t deny it. “Kneel on the tile, place your palms flat on the tile, and you’ll eat like puppies; that’ll be our next contest.”

“How exactly are we supposed to pick up pizza with our palms on the tile, Mister Dalton?” Veronica asked, shifting into position but still giving me a puzzled look.

I held out a slice of pizza, dangling it just out of reach. “You leave the thinking to the babysitter and just do as you’re told. You’re puppies now; the contest is back on, so I want to hear barking, not whining.”

The girls, already crouched with their palms on the tile, wagged their backsides like excited pups, eyes fixed on the pizza.

“Woof!” Betty yipped, snapping her teeth at the air before lunging forward and taking a bite.

“Arf, arf!” Veronica followed suit, grinning as she nipped at her turn, chewing with exaggerated delight. “Oh, Mister Dalton, you really do spoil us!”

Archie scoffed, tearing a chunk of his own slice. “Spoil you? You two get pizza and get to make fools of yourselves. That’s what I call a fucking bargain.”

Betty smirked, licking sauce from the corner of her mouth. “Brian Wingate probably wouldn’t mind a puppy or two,” she mused.

Veronica huffed, nudging Betty aside with her shoulder. “Woof, I was the one he kept looking at.” She let out a playful yip before flashing me a sweet smile. “Speaking of ... oh em, Arf! Arf! ... Mister Dalton, who’s in the lead for best sister and best puppy?”

I let the question hang for a second, keeping them eager to hear how they were doing in the contest.

Archie rolled his eyes. “Tied as puppies. And as for ‘better sister’?” He smirked. “Tied for dead fucking last.”

“Archie’s the only one who gets a say on that,” I said, holding the pizza just out of reach. “But as puppies? You’re neck and neck. So, bark like dumb little mutts, eat your pizza, wag your tails, and get into it.” I shot them a look. “You don’t want to do what he tells you, so I’ve got no clue why he’d call either of you a good sister.”

Veronica pouted, then let out a sharp woof. “We never said we wouldn’t do what he tells us! We’re on our bloody knees eating pizza, for fuck’s sake—find me another sister who’d do that on command.”

Betty gave a playful sigh, shifting her weight. “It’s a bit rough on my knees, and yeah, having my quim out like this is proper embarrassing—but at least Veronica has to do it too.” She grinned, tilting her head. “And if you can come up with more of this shit and keep being a meanie, I wouldn’t mind it one bit.”

Archie snorted. “Yeah, but only ‘cause you like it when I hold the pizza and hand-feed you.” His smirk deepened. He was having fun with this, too, but he made it seem like an obligation and a chore that he had to do just to mess with them.

Veronica gave a mock gasp, batting her lashes “Wuff! Wuff!” wiggling her ass as her pussy dripped quim juice on her thighs. She was getting turned on by this game. I wasn’t sure how, but I was hard as a rock myself. I doubted I would have felt the same way if I were the one on my knees barking like a silly puppy.

I don’t know how they did it, but they managed to make feeding them into a bit of a competition. Veronica took a big bite, and Betty took an entire chomp and growled playfully.

Despite their dainty frames, they went at it with pure enthusiasm, making a show of it like everything else—big bites, playful growls, a little competition in every movement.

Veronica lunged first, taking a dramatic chomp, while Betty snatched a whole mouthful and let out a low, rumbling growl, shaking her head like she was ripping apart prey.

For all their effort, they couldn’t keep a straight face, dissolving into giggles even as they play-fought over the next bite.

“So, you doggy sluts want to eat like this at every meal?” I asked as I watched the toothbrushes in their butts wiggle from side to side.

“Arf! Arf! Arrooo!” Betty’s howl sounded like agreement. Veronica brushed a little of her dark hair out of her eyes and pragmatically added that her mum would never go for this.

“Wuff, we are barely allowed to be naked all the time; I doubt she’d go for us stripping at the door, every morning, noon, and night just because Mister Archie is home!”

It sounded like they wanted to be naked all the time, and their only concern was their mother would put a limit on it.

“Mum doesn’t want to smell girly-pussy juice, arse-sweat, and have your dark and curlies falling out all over the floor night and day,” Archie explained to them like they were dumb bimbos, scrunching his nose up scornfully at the girls.

“Arf, you and Mister Dalton are the ones who told us to strip down at the door when we see you!” Betty reminded me as she chewed another bite pizza. Archie and I had to stop feeding them long enough to feed ourselves before it went cold.

“Mister Dalton’s the one who said you have to strip at the door when you see me. I don’t see what’s in it for me, making decisions for you and keeping you starkers. It’s not like I’ve got some raging hard-on for staring at your nubby little tits, hairy gashes, and sweaty little asses—you are just my sisters, not some hot girls.” Archie scoffed. “You being bare-ased ain’t some great mystery. I’ve seen you both naked my whole fucking life. More hassle than it’s worth watching over you. I’ve learned that tonight! Now, I’ve got to you feed you pair of gobby little baby birds, snapping and biting at my fucking fingers...” He winced as Betty took another bite, a little too eagerly.

The girls giggled their agreement.

“If your mum won’t have it, then just strip down when I am here,” I decided.

“It would be funny if Archie got stuck babysitting us, and feeding us like this at every meal,” Veronica chewed on the pizza as she imagined her brother getting frustrated.

Betty’s eyes widened, and she gave an exaggerated pant. “Oh yes, every meal, Archie! Just imagine it! You could walk us outside to have a pooh on the lawn and pick up after us!”

Archie snorted. “Yeah, no thanks. I already have to tell you what to do, when to do it, and how to do it. You barely listen, hear what you want, and half the time, you half-ass it. I certainly don’t want to have to smell girly-turds and watch the two of you squeeze your cheese on the lawn while you have a laugh! What the fuck would be in that for me?”

I changed the subject by reaching down between Veronica’s legs and masturbating the toothbrush in her ass. She almost spat out her pizza when she realized that I was fucking her butt with it.

“Oooh, Mister Dalton, don’t do that,” she pled, but she didn’t plead very hard. She clearly enjoyed it – she just didn’t want me to get her started up and then stop.

“You can do that to me,” Betty presented her cute little ass, side by side with her sister so that I could use my other hand to masturbate her.

“Now, you’ve gone and done it, you’ve got the two cum gobblers all hot and bothered for it, and you can’t even eat your pizza,” Archie didn’t even watch as the girls humped themselves onto the bristles while I fucked their butts with the brushes. “They’ll cream themselves and fall flat on the kitchen tile before they’d feel an ounce of shame taking it up the arse!”

If Betty and Veronica heard Archie, they didn’t let on. They both moaned, bit their lips, and enjoyed the sensation. “Oh, keep going, Mister Dalton! Please ... don’t stop, don’t leave me hanging!”

“She’s gagging for it. Are you really going to allow my sisters to have an orgasm on the kitchen floor?” Archie was disappointed in me. I was tempted to get them so close that they were almost there and then leave them to agonize.

Instead, I kept going! I was fascinated by how their bodies twisted and spasmed. Pools of spit formed on their lips, and the girls shifted face forward, nose to the tile, asses up. “In my puss, please! Oh, please ... on the clit, it’s too much teasing!!” Veronica begged.

I could have made them bark like dogs, and they probably would have – they were melting for me.

“Oh, oh,” Betty couldn’t take it any longer after about five minutes. She reached behind herself, and began to finger fuck her pussy, resting her body on her tits. Veronica didn’t have to see what was going on to know that her sister was masturbating. She quickly joined her – neither girl really had an ounce of modesty about showing me how they get off.

“For Christ’s sake, are you really going to let them play with themselves? I’ve never seen a babysitter take things this far with the girls,” Archie chided me.

I ignored Archie, and kept going, intent on watching the girls cum – on making them cum. They were aching for it, begging to be permitted to cum. I had never seen a girl’s pussy this wet, and both of my cousins’ pussies were soaked.

I could imagine the shoe being on the other foot and the two of them jerking me off. They could be seriously trying to get me an orgasm, but I wouldn’t have to beg for permission to shoot my load. I’d just ejaculate —on their hands, my belly, wherever.

The ONLY way I’d ask permission to cum, would be if they were doing a sloppy job and I was close, but I couldn’t quite reach that perfect pleasure plateau to euphoric ecstasy. The only way that I would BEG for permission was if I thought they could stop right before I shot my load and leave me frustrated.

I could only imagine that whether I asked or begged, the girls would be laughing at me if my pleasure was in their hands, and they could deny it – so I laughed while they cooed, mewled, begged, and I teased them. I didn’t try to be malicious or sadistic about it.