Chapter 2

“So, Dad’s really not coming back, is he? Did you ... file for divorce?” Lisa, one of my stepsisters, now asked Mom.

“Yeah, I’m afraid so. Your father is ... stuck overseas. In Myanmar. A country that was in worse shape than us before, well, you know ... Now, I’m not so sure who’s worse off. I’m afraid that he can’t ... or won’t return ... that part is not entirely clear. But what I know is that the decision is out of my hands, sweetie.

“Article One, Section F, of the Household Act stipulates that married people whose spouses are stranded overseas are now divorced, their marriages formally dissolved by an act of the General Assembly. If they’re not living in Florida within sixty days after the act takes effect, the marriage is automatically dissolved. When your father left, he was just supposed to be there for about six months, but then ... well, the country collapsed, along with the global economy. And that’s why we live in the Republic of Florida now, instead of the United States of America,” Mom pointed out to my cute, plump brunette of a stepsister.

“It’s a shame in some ways. Dylan wasn’t that bad of a guy,” my younger brother, Alfie, said for the record.

“Well, he was basically your dad for ten years, bro. That’s a good chunk of your sixteen years of life. The majority, in fact. Do you even remember what Dad was like? I can ... I was older. So can Melissa. There’s a reason that she doesn’t sleep alone, even now. There’s a reason that you wet the bed for years and so did I. We’re all older now, mature enough to realize that Dad was no saint. I had my issues with Dylan, chiefly the whole Jesus Freak stuff, but he wasn’t bad for a Bible thumper. At least he wasn’t a wife-beater and a drunk like Dad,” I explained to my little brother.

“Yes, well, there are going to be some changes around here, in case you missed the nudity and your big brother sitting at the head of the table. I was faithful to Dylan because that was part of our ... commitment to each other. We were monogamous. We married in his church ... and I really tried to make that whole ... Christian thing work for a while. The fact of the matter, though, is that it’s now time to make a fresh start.

“I have here some ... paperwork, per the Household Act of 2025. Documents that ... register an unmarried woman aged between fourteen and sixty-five years of age as a concubine to a man aged fourteen and above. As a divorcee between those ages, I wish to sign these papers and offer myself to ... Jack, my own son, as his second concubine. Jessica has already signed hers and wishes to become his first.

“What’s more, I believe that ... Melissa here also wishes to register as Jack’s concubine. Is that right, honey? You want to belong to your brother, like Jess and me? Sign these papers. If he signs these at the bottom, we will legally be his chattel, his property, from the moment that they are filed with the new Concubine Conservatorship Agency. We don’t know when that will be filed, so we can just begin ... adjusting to our new way of life immediately, I believe,” Mom now asserted, causing Lisa’s eyes to bug out.

“So ... can I belong to Jack, too?” Lisa all but pleaded with Mom and me.

“Of course, why not? If he consents to it, that is. Any other takers for Jack? Speak up now. I don’t know how much time he’ll give you to decide,” Mom looked to me for cues.

“As much time as I deem reasonable and necessary. That’s all I’m going to say about that issue. And yes, you can be mine, too, sis. Any other takers?” I looked around the table.

“Me, too!” Wendy and Mary, the former a step, the latter a blood sister, but both more like twins, declared in unison.

“And me, of course,” Sabrina insisted.

“And me,” Carly added.

These last were blood sisters, in fact. So far, I had Mom, Jessica, Melissa, Lisa, Wendy, Mary, Sabrina, and Carly. Eight ladies, counting my mother, four blood sisters, and three stepsisters. This left just three stepsisters and no blood sisters of my siblings. I had no stepbrothers, either, and my only blood brother was Alfie.

“What if I ... don’t take offense please ... but what if I want Alfie instead?” Mandy bit her lower lip and hung her head, almost embarrassed now.

“Then, if Alfie wants you, you’re his. No need to be embarrassed. You like what you like. And who you like. You’re fourteen now, the youngest, but still of age. Go for it. Life’s too long to spend as a concubine to the wrong brother. What about you, Debbie ... and Jenny?” I now asked fifteen-year old Deborah and sixteen-year old Jennifer, my last two stepsisters.

“Alfie,” Debbie blushed, “nothing personal ... I just ... like it ... uncut ... better. You’re circumcised, while he’s not.”

“Well, that’s the most brutally frank answer I’ve heard yet on this topic. To be honest, I had Jack cut because I was misinformed on the issue and hadn’t yet researched it, so I believed the doc that it was healthier to circumcise boys. I learned better later on, but the damage was done. I still feel rotten about that. Sorry, hon,” Mom actually apologized to me for letting them remove my foreskin after all of these years, tears in her eyes.