Chapter 3

No Pain, No Gain

September 12, 1976 Stephenville Texas

Cindy hates me. I continued to run despite my lungs burning. My tormentor, er, I mean my “personal trainer,” planned an aggressive fitness plan this morning to include sprinting alternating with body weight strength training. I felt like I was going to die. My only hope was that we had class this morning, so the torture would eventually end.

I hate when I whine like that. Of course I survived. And, after a quick shower, Cindy gave me a very nice blowjob as a reward for my hard work. Then she fed me a light breakfast to start my day.

Yes, life is good.

A Break of Mind and Body

The ancient Greeks understood man as consisting of the parts of body, spirit, and soul (trichotomy). Modern man (or perhaps scientific man) has a similar concept in which the parts are the physical body, the intellectual mind, and emotions. This model is fine except people tend to consider these three components of man as being somehow separate, which is detrimental to understanding many health issues, including Post-traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).

Some may notice that since I woke up as a five-year-old-boy, I behaved differently than before the change. If it is not obvious, my new self no longer displayed symptoms of PTSD, nor Depression. Many may not be aware that PTSD is not a condition affecting the emotions and mind only. The body is significantly impacted as well. During events such as combat or sexual assault, the mind detects an extreme threat, and instinctively sends signals to the adrenal and pituitary glands to release hormones, such as adrenaline, to prepare the body to fight or flee. These hormones cause predictable changes in the body. A ridiculously over-generalization of PTSD is that it is a condition of the body being stuck in the fight or flight status. The switch flipped on, but does flip off once the threat passes.

Fortunately for me, my new body’s switch remained off. Loud noises behind me did not really bother me. Fireworks did not make me seek cover from artillery attacks. I could sit with my back to the entrance of a room or building. And I could enjoy a date with a pretty girl at a restaurant without first noting the location of all the exits, what potential threats exist, and the status of my firearm. All of those would be symptoms of what the mental health professionals called “hyper-vigilance.” For now, I was symptom free and enjoyed life.

But, I had a concern. My purpose for being in this body and in this time was for me to conduct tactical operations. What I didn’t know was whether the combat stress would trigger PTSD type symptoms. It concerned me. I mentioned my concerns to Cindy and Michael. No one had an answer and I tried not to think about it.

Awkward

September 12, 1976, Tarleton State University

On Tuesday, I had Biology and more importantly, I would see Shelly at class. I had called her on Sunday morning just to chat. Since I didn’t enjoy speaking on the phone, the call did not last but five or ten minutes, but I enjoyed hearing her voice. In class she said “hi” but did not make a point to pay me any special attention. That made sense, I guess. I didn’t propose to her or anything. We just shared a meal.

I met Cindy outside of the building and we hugged and kissed. And as we turned to head to the house I heard Shelly say, “Introduce me to your friend.” Shelly was not smiling and she sounded ... distant.

“Shelly, this is my sister, Cindy.”

Cindy said “Hi” and waved at her.

Shelly focused on me and said, “My friend, Diane, said she saw you with a woman that looks like your sister on Sunday afternoon. But what she said you weren’t acting very brotherly. Did you bring a date home?”

I just looked at her in response. I understood what she was asking, but this was not the way, time, or place to have this conversation. Finally, I said, “If you want to talk about this, why don’t you come with us to our house and you can ask what is really on your mind?”

We started walking, Cindy and I leading, with Shelly a few steps behind. No one was talking and Cindy put more distance between us than normal. I put an end to that nonsense and grabbed her hand and pulled her close to me, as we walked together the rest of the way.

I invited Shelly inside and Cindy got us all a glass of ice water and we sat in the living room. “Go ahead, Shelly. What did you want to know?”

Shelly looked at Cindy and me sitting next to each other. “Is she your girlfriend or your sister? And, does she know that you took me out last Friday?”

“Of course she knows about the date. She even picked out my clothes to wear. The other question is complicated, but I can tell you that she isn’t my girlfriend.”

“I have time. I would like to hear ‘complicated’.”

“Shelly, why do you need to know? We aren’t engaged or dating exclusively. We went on one dinner date. What is the problem?”

Shelly looked at Cindy closely.

“She acts more like your wife, and you hang all over her like you two are in love. I don’t date guys who have girlfriends and I wanted to make sure that Cindy knows what kind of man she is dating.”

Cindy answered, “We aren’t dating. We can’t have that kind of relationship. You have nothing to be jealous about.”

“Then why were you two hanging all over each other in your backyard on Sunday? And why was your ‘brother’ grabbing your tits and trying to kiss them?”

I had been a little amorous on Sunday when Cindy wanted to sunbathe in the backyard. Okay, maybe I was horny and reckless. But to be fair, she was in this little black bikini, she has an incredible butt and that stomach is so flat. There had been some hand-to-boob contact, but no mouth-to-boob-as-god-intended action. Sure, I tried, but Cindy went inside to prevent a spectacle. I guess we did not move inside quickly enough to avoid notice.

I told her, “Shelly, we’re not your normal brother and sister.”

She snorted, “Ya think?”

“Like I said, it’s complicated,” I sighed in frustration. “I like you, okay? And I think I’d like for us to be friends. But a lot of this is very personal. It also involves my sister. I don’t want this conversation getting out. Is this conversation just between you and us?”

Shelly agreed to keep our conversation confidential.

I admitted that we were not biologically related and that we “expanded” our sibling love to include much more affection than is normally appropriate. Shelly was “weirded out” to use her term, but thought she could handle it. But then I had to open my big mouth and bring up Cindy’s assumed role as my servant. And that did not go over so well. I wasn’t able to explain it, Cindy didn’t care what Shelly thought, and Shelly thought we were beyond perverted and just wanted to get away from us.

Curiosity Killed the Cat

On Thursday, Shelly cornered me after class and asked to come to our house again. I didn’t want a repeat of Tuesday’s conversation, but I was glad she was willing to be with us. After we arrived, she admitted that she had become curious about our relationship, especially Cindy’s desire to serve me. She claimed that she just wanted to hang out with us and observe how we interacted with each other. She was a freshman like us, and was still making new friends in the weeks since we had been on campus. I didn’t mind her being around, and, as I’ve said, I enjoyed her company.

So the issue was what Cindy wanted. Since Cindy would never oppose my choices, I decided to let her make the decision. Besides, she understood people better than me and she managed our home.

“Cindy, I think this is your call. You decide if she is welcome in the house, and, if so, under what conditions.”

I have always been eager to delegate tasks to competent subordinates. It is a critical element of leadership. Cindy proved that my trust was well deserved. She agreed to allow Shelly to visit us whenever she wanted, as long as she called first. But, she was not to criticize or try to change how Cindy and I interacted.

But then Cindy surprised me. She said that if we were in the bedroom, Shelly could listen to us outside the bedroom door. But if she wanted to observe us, she had to be as vulnerable as we were. That is, Shelly had to undress and insert a dildo, at least for a few minutes. Fat chance that would ever happen. But Cindy proved to be more perceptive than I.

Friday afternoon Shelly asked to spend Friday afternoon through Sunday night at our house. I deferred that decision to Cindy, who approved of the plan and prepared our guest bedroom for Shelly’s use. That weekend, Cindy saw my ex-date much more than I did. When Cindy prepared a meal, Shelly was there, listening to how I preferred my meal cooked. When Cindy went to the grocery store, Shelly went with her and Cindy would comment on each item as she placed it in the shopping cart, explaining which meals and brands of food I preferred. And to her credit, Shelly did not complain that I was the focus of all the planning.

On Saturday afternoon, Cindy announced that the girls had an errand to run. She didn’t say what the errand was, as she usually did, but, I was pleased with how the weekend was going and didn’t pry.

Before we prepared for bed on Saturday night, Cindy placed some pillows outside our bedroom door so that “Shelly would be more comfortable.” I still thought it unlikely that Shelly had any voyeuristic tendencies but I said nothing. After our special time in the shower, I got in bed, but Cindy opened the bedroom door and spoke to someone. I realized that Shelly was indeed making herself comfortable.

After Cindy came to bed, we began making love. The strange thing was that Cindy was louder than usual, despite our love making not being particularly unusual from any other night. She moaned more and started talking dirty, encouraging me to greater effort. My Cindy has an exhibitionist fetish.

Sunday night started as a repeat of Saturday. Cindy set out some pillows outside our bedroom door and then spoke to Shelly before she got in bed. We began our usual kissing and teasing. I went down on her and thought I heard a click, but disregarded it, as two firm legs were pressed against my ears. But when I entered Cindy’s moist, warm sheath, I heard two women’s moans. I glanced over my shoulder and there sat a lovely, nude form of Shelly with a dildo sliding in her pussy! I quickly re-focused on the mission at hand. I took my time, bringing my lover and myself to an approaching climax, but the moan behind me shortened my time-table and I increased my speed. Finally, we achieved victory within moments of each other, and, as I turned around in the direction of our guest, I saw a couple of white globes jiggle as Shelly exited our room. I looked questioningly at my sister and beheld her knowing grin. Cindy understood Shelly’s urges much better than I did.

They next morning Cindy and I conducted our workout and met Shelly for breakfast, but no one brought up the previous night, to my relief.

On Tuesday everything changed. It set in motion a series of events that would change our relationships with each other. Shelly started asking me what made Cindy become so subservient. I didn’t want to lie to her, but this was complicated. What happened to Cindy occurred during The Before Time? Compounding that problem, Cindy became agitated whenever I asked her about her life before she met me. So, I really only had my conjecture, but even that was impossible to explain since it happened as an adult before she was a child living with me as my sister. Complicated.

Besides, sheltered, upper middle-class Shelly just did not have the life experience or the understanding of the seedy side of society to comprehend the life Cindy lived in The Before Time. The best I could do was to tell her that Cindy suffered a traumatic experience that caused her to cling to me. It was true to a degree, but Shelly wanted more. She would not let up on asking me questions.

After dinner on Wednesday, Shelly asked me if I could go running so they could have some “girl time.” “Girl time” on Saturday had procured Shelly a dildo, and look how well that turned out. So off I went with a transistor radio with an earplug stuck in my left ear. I returned home an hour later. Cindy was curled up in a fetal position on the couch, nearly catatonic, whispering my name over and over, while Sherry watched over her, with guilt and concern written on her face.

I demanded, “What happened to her?”

“Nothing! I was just asking her questions.”

“What did you ask her”?

“I just asked her ... I just asked her, would she go if you set her free?”

I ran to Cindy and cradled her head. “I am not going to set you free. I am never sending you away. We had an agreement and I am holding you to it.” Cindy became a little more animated and clung to me desperately.

“What’s wrong with her?”

“Shelly, you need to leave.”

“But I feel so bad, I want to help.”

I sighed. I knew that Shelly didn’t understand. But her presence was a reminder to Cindy of the threat to The Agreement. And Cindy could not handle that.

“Shelly, you can’t help and your presence is making her worse. Please, leave! We will talk tomorrow.”

That night we did not have our special time. I held her for hours assuring her that I would never reject her or separate her from me. I repeated the mantra over and over until my throat was hoarse. And then I removed our clothing and washed both of us in the shower. Then we held each other in bed, and finally fell asleep, sometime after 2:00 A.M.

After class the next day, Shelly cornered me in the classroom.

“What made her so subservient to you that my suggestion to leave you made her collapse? I have to know. I need to know.”

“This is not just something that can be explained. You don’t have the life experience for any words to make sense. Without that experience, the words have no context, no meaning.”

She began to cry, “Then teach me.”

My problem was that I knew that I could teach her. But was it the moral thing to do? What right did I have to teach her how precarious her life truly was? What right did I have to reveal just what sort of creatures humans truly were? I, myself, didn’t really understand until I witnessed it in Iraq and saw the death, and heard the despair in men’s voices, and learned just what a shit hole this world becomes when law and order disappear.

Society can be compared to a quality piece of wood furniture. Most of the structure is of common wood, with imperfections and knots. But craftsmen glue a thin layer of perfect wood veneer over the furniture, giving it the appearance that the whole is perfect and beautiful. That is what Shelly saw in life. And it was a pleasant life to see only the smooth wood and not the ugly, imperfect truth underneath.

It would be pulling back the curtain in the “Wizard of Oz”, only instead of finding an ordinary man; she would find a frightful creature. Make no mistake, without law and order, many men become worse than the most ferocious animal, fit only to be put down. This is not mere conjecture; it is documented history.

“Are you sure? Do you have any idea of the soul-stripping degradation she lived through? You need to be very sure, because once we cross this line, there is no turning back. Our friendship can’t turn back. You really would be better off to accept that you can’t understand and just try to be supportive of Cindy and her choices without judgment.”

No matter how much I argued and pleaded, she was determined to understand. Don’t ask me why she had this pathological need to understand Cindy and me. I thought it was just curiosity. But now, I think it was some deep, psychological need to understand her inner self. She followed me to the house and would not stop asking me to help her understand. So, to my shame, I gave in.

I knew what I would have to do. In order for Shelly to understand, she would have to experience a taste of it. The monster to torture her would have to be me. I needed to induce a psychological state for at least twenty-four hours. She had to feel out of her element and off-balanced. And I would have to manipulate her, use her as an object, humiliate her, and strip away her dignity.

I made her agree to do everything I said this weekend. I gave her a safe word and explained that if she wanted to stop at any time, she only needed to say the word. But once she said it, we would stop this foolishness.

“l’audace, l’audace, toujours l’audace“

In my first life, long before I met Cindy, I had the honor of serving in the army’s armor corps. Our unofficial saint was General George Patton. Perhaps saint is the wrong word. Those who served under him used words like “asshole” and “son of a bitch.” He was not honored for being a pleasant human being but for his understanding of the spirit of armor warfare.

In the eponymous movie “Patton,” he quotes Frederick the Great as saying “l’audace, l’audace, toujours l’audace.” It translates to something like, “Audacity, audacity, always the audacity.” The quote is actually attributed to some french revolutionary war character who I don’t give a rat’s ass about. I don’t give a shit any more about that than I do with George Patton’s social manners. What matters is the lesson. Aggressive, forceful, unrelenting, and sudden, audacity can overwhelm a seemingly invincible enemy. The tank with its lightning speed and awe-inspiring firepower was the perfect tool for such a technique. For the next twenty-four hours, I would become the tank, with my own version of “shock and awe” to destroy the innocent and beautiful worldview of an eighteen-year-old schoolgirl.

“Shelly, since you are intruding into Cindy’s most private secrets, you will have to give up your secrets. Throughout the weekend, I am going to ask you the most personal questions I can think of. I am going to ask you to describe your early sexual experiences, and if you don’t answer honestly, this exercise stops. I will make you narrate your worst failures and your greatest embarrassments; and if I don’t hear honest answers, we stop. The questions are just the beginning. You will endure far more than mere talking. All I will promise is that I won’t injure you. With that in mind, are you sure that I can’t talk you out of pursuing this?”

Shelly pulled back her shoulders and foolishly declared that she was ready to accept anything that I required of her.

“Here are the first three questions then. I want immediate answers or I want you to give up. Are you a virgin? Are you on birth control and have you been tested for STD’s?”

I hoped that I had finally gotten her attention as I saw her eyes snap wide open in surprise. But she immediately answered me. She was not a virgin, she was on birth control, and she was clean of disease. I could only hope that she listened. But as I saw the blush on her chest and smelled her arousal, I knew that she was beginning to understand what her weekend might entail, and it both scared and excited her. Ruthless men without hearts know that innocent school girls are so vulnerable. They don’t understand the blackness of the heart of a man freed from moral restraint and empathy. They haven’t experienced or personally witnessed anything truly vicious; and so they do not recognize the trap until it is sprung and their freedom is gone.

The Trial

September 25, 1976 Stephenville, Texas

Shelly began the most challenging day of her life at 7:00 the next morning.