Chapter 7: Increasing the Herd

Ruthie and I are a successful couple, meaning our marriage is a success. Our entire family is a success. We have much to celebrate.

All the members are happy and enthusiastically involved in plans for making our first wedding anniversary, a Gala celebration. That’s fine, I expect it will be wonderful fun. I’m helping, involved too.

The originator and the energy source, the star of our family, is Mom. We all revolve around her and take her too much for granted. Ruthie is our artesian spring, the fount of love that we rely upon. She is the Supermom bread winner too. Ruthie should be acknowledged as the true family epicenter and our abundant gratitude expressed to her.

The problem is a misdirected allegiance towards me. Emphasis is on the wrong person. I’m the doted on seventeen year old Daddy.

I feel guilty I can’t influence the rest to make Ruthie the center of attention. I also feel guilty I produce zero income for the family. My efforts wouldn’t even be noticed if I did find work. It’s uneccessary.

Ruthie’s Quilts is now a brand name sold by Amazon. Ruthie does the original designs, which are mass produced overseas, and drop shipped to online buyers. My wife is an nouveau riche millionaire and soon to be multi-millionaire. The money pours into the bank account automatically. A tax lawyer manages the fund for her.

We have a fourteen acre country estate and multiple homes. Exactly what we had before. Ruthie’s original ten acres with my parents remote four acres added to it. Ruthie’s two story frame farmhouse and the dome my parents built.

We don’t even own a motor vehicle. Ruthie says they’re dangerous, too powerful, too fast. She is probably correct. Usually is

We did buy a surrey and a horse to pull it. It’s the very surrey that carried us from our wedding to the dome for our wedding night. The sentiment is something we share. That day changed our lives for the better.

The money won’t because it’s isolated. Quarantined. Money, BIG money is dangerous too! It can sit in the bank and grow mold for all Ruthie cares for it. We don’t go near it, spend very little of it.

One or two major expenditures were solar panels for the houses. We now have flip-a-switch led lighting in every room. Ruthie says candles and oil lamps are dangerous fire hazards. They’ve been stored away for emergencies.

Her sewing machine is still foot treadle powered. She claims she has superior control when sewing the quilts she designs. Bet she’s right.

I’m not the least bit perturbed over the money. My life just keeps getting better without it.

Ruthie is very indulgent with me and very intelligent. As I mentioned, Ruthie is the genius glue that holds out family together.

Rather than my adopting my stepdaughters, she is encouraging them to become my concubines. A stronger more lasting relationship. Ruthie wants grandchildren soon, and to share blood ties to them with me. I’ll be the daddy and she the grandma. Our family.

Her daughters won’t be marrying and moving away, obligated for holidays with in-laws, and seldom visiting Ruthie. Oh no, that won’t work at all! She’s keeping them close to home, closely bonded with me. And her, the grandchildren near with only one grandma, Ruthie.

Ruthie hopes to have a child with me herself. She hasn’t caught pregnant yet and that’s frustrating. She always caught easily and quick when she was younger. Claims she could get pregnant just from a fellow winking at her. Somehow I doubt that’s the way it works. To please her, I wink at her frequently, which makes her smile. I like my Ruthie’s lovely spontaneous smiles.

So far, Ruthie introduced into our bed and my arms, the two eldest of her daughters. Rebbecca and Sarah. The next and soon initiated is fourteen year old Chloe.

The younger girls are Hannah, Deborah, and Abigail, little Abby being the last but not the least bit ignored. Ten year old Abby demands a lot of my attention always wanting me to play with her.

Usually begins by her sneak attacking me and that ends up a wrestling match devolving into tickling and blowing zoobers, then more wrestling. Always under the watchful intense gaze of Aunt Mantha, Samantha shortened up, my sister-in-law. Nothing inappropriate was ever done by me I can assure you. There was no lack of legal pussy in my home. Almost more than I can comfortably deal with. Ten year old Abby is very low on the sex appeal scale.

That is not a topic I’m comfortable with, just mentioned as an intro for explaining there is someone even lower on that sex appeal scale. Aunt Mantha. Unfortunate woman. The youngest of Ruthie’s siblings, Samantha doted on her eldest brother Robert, nine years her senior. Ruthie tells it the two were very close, almost inseparable. When Robert was killed in one of the middle east wars, Samantha was devastated. Actually nearly died of grief, according to Ruthie. Refused to eat and was wasting away from self imposed starvation.