Chapter 3

My Dad casually entered the kitchen. He was whistling some happy tune as he often does. He seemed unsurprised to see the girls the way they were. “Brittany, didn’t I tell you that I wanted to have a talk with Oscar first before you showed him your house rules?”

“I am so sorry, Jeff! I thought you said you talked to him last night?” Brittany became immediately apologetic and then apologized to ME. I was the one benefiting from seeing the girls this way. I wasn’t sure what to say back to her. “You must be so confused. I bet you thought I was crazy this morning!”

“No,” I lied. I had never seen anything like it and had no frame of reference. It would be easy to admit my mind was blown.

“We are Adamites,” Brittany explained cordially as if that meant anything to me. “My father and my Grandfather were as well. They moved out here in the backwoods of Florida so that they could live and worship without the restrictions and judgments of so many others.”

I silently vowed to look up the sect after I had access to the Internet again. I might have grabbed my phone and done so right then. They were a 2nd-century sect of Christians who worshipped without clothes. However, there were many different factions with a lot of different beliefs. The one that Brittany believed in involved repentance, confession, and seeking absolution of sin through physical and mental suffering. I didn’t know that at the time, but my Dad eventually explained some of that to me.

“Do you have any questions, Son?” my Dad asked.

It shocked me a little that my Dad was so comfortable around them. I thought Christians were big into NOT being naked and repression. I could have asked any theological question or about her faith. Instead, I asked, “Well, how do you uh, you know?” I pointed to my crotch.

“Pee?” Brittany offered a little giggle and a tee-hee. “Very carefully,” she said and then pointed directly at the Stainless steel grid between her crotch. It had tiny holes in it. “We tinkle through these holes here.”

Her tone suggested she was talking to a small innocent child who had no idea how the world worked at all. I suppose she was as far as I was concerned.

My eyes widened, and I stuttered. I wanted to take back my initial question. I shouldn’t have had the audacity to ask these women how they relieve themselves.

“Milk, Milk,” Brittany tapped her boobs, then touched her crotch, “Lemonade.”. She turned around, bent over for me. I could see her asshole in all its impressive glory inches from my face. It smelled like delicious parmesan cheese. “Around the corner, Fudge is made!” she wiggled her ass and bounced up and down as she stood upright.

Hannah playfully added, “Boys have big hairy chests like King Kong, crack in the butt,” she pointed to her ass and then to her crotch, “two balls and a ding-dong!’”

Brittany seemed oddly offended by her daughter’s playful attempt to add some levity to a super weird morning. She didn’t condemn what she said. She looked at me as if waiting for another question and ignored her daughter’s giggles.

“Do you ever take those things off?” I asked.

“Of course, silly!” Brittany explained that they have to clean and shave like any woman. She explained that without any men in the house, she has been the keeper of the keys, and it’s been a terrible temptation not to keep them off for longer than needed.

“When I marry your father, I will no longer have to wear my chastity belt unless my husband is not home.”

“Lucky!” Jayne murmured.

“Your time will come, sweetie-pie!” Brittany doted on her youngest daughter. She asked me if I had any other questions about the suits. I couldn’t think of any that seemed appropriate.

“I told you that Oscar would accept you pretty easily,” My Dad sounded pretty proud of me.

“Oh good, may we eat?” Brittany asked him. It was HER house. However, she waited for my father to give his blessing and say grace before permitting us to eat her home-cooked food. It was incredible, and I was shocked the girls weren’t fat considering how many calories were probably in the old-fashioned buttered biscuits, pancakes, bacon, and sausage.

“We make our own bacon here,” Brittany bragged when she noticed I was eating quite a bit of it.

“Oh, I am sorry, I didn’t mean to eat all of it,” I was going to take another slice, but I realized that the girls seemed to be waiting to eat some.

“They go about naked, without clothing; hungry, they carry the sheave,” Brittany said as if that meant something to me.

My father smiled and told her that was from Job 24:10. It was clear she already knew that, but she smiled back at my father and seemed thankful he recognized the biblical scripture.

“I guess I do have another question about the belts,” I asked under my breath.

My Dad looked at me as if he was disappointed that I was bringing it up again after it had been put to rest.

The two teenage girls sighed a little, but Brittany sat back in her seat and said, “Shoot!”

“Do I have to wear one if my Dad marries you?” I sounded scared. I know I did because the girls laughed intensely. I was pretty convinced the answer was a resounding yes, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

“You are a man, not born of original sin. You are the seed, and my daughters are the soil. Seeds are to be treasured, and the soil is to be tilled, protected, and cultivated.”

I wasn’t sure what to make of that, but a shock of relief started to wash over me to discover I wouldn’t have one of those on my cock. I had been celibate all of my life, but not by choice.

“But I want you to understand that the head of every man is Christ, the head of a wife is her husband, and the head of Christ is God,” Brittany said. Even I knew that one, and I told her it came from 1 Peter 3:1-6.

“That is the natural order of the heavens, Oscar” Brittany seemed intelligent, bright, and very much devoted to her Scriptural beliefs. I wasn’t so sure about her daughters. They both obeyed her, but neither seemed incredibly excited about it.

“Today, when we go into town, you are the man of the house,” Brittany said.

“What does that mean?” I asked reflexively.

This time Brittany did not respond. She pointed above my head to an old wooden sign. The paint on the sign was worn, but it was clear what it said. “I do not permit a woman to teach or to exercise authority over a man; rather, she is to remain quiet. 1 Timothy 2:12.”

If there is any scripture that Brittany believed in more, I wouldn’t know what it was. She couldn’t even read that one out loud to me. I almost laughed at how archaic it sounded. It was obviously written in a different time before women had equal rights.

However, Brittany and, to some extent, Jayne and Heather all believed it. They also believed

“The women should keep silent in the churches. For they are not permitted to speak, but should be in submission, as the Law also says. 1 Peter 3:1 ESV” which was the sign on the opposite side of the wall at a position where anyone entering the kitchen or leaving it could easily read it.