The Creature -- Chapter Twenty-six free porn video

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX I woke up when a bright light was shined in my eyes. I looked around. Roger had been the one shining the light in my eyes, but Mom and Randy were both in the room as well. I could see that it was still dark outside. I felt a little bit weird. I couldn't be sure of it, but it felt like I was laying on my other side, not the one I thought I'd fallen asleep on. I was still curled in a ball, but I seemed to be facing the window instead of away from it, as I thought I'd been when I fell asleep. And I saw a narrow strip of thick, black cloth lying on the floor not too far away from me. Was that a blindfold? Without a word, Randy tipped my head back and opened my mouth, and pushed a piece of unwashed, muddy carrot down my throat. Then he helped me into a sitting position. I looked around at them all. I wondered if they'd done something to me while I slept. Had they played with my body, or used it in another way? Had they moved me to another room? I knew that if they'd blindfolded me while I was asleep with no carrot in my system, I would have remained asleep no matter what they did to me, where they took me, or how rough they treated me. They could have done anything! I decided not to ask them just yet. I wanted to savour the mystery. I wanted to be able to imagine unlikely scenarios - the first that came to mind was that I had been stripped completely naked and fucked by them all, many many times. I laughed. That was highly unlikely. Maybe it could have happened before I received the antidote, but not now. Another possibility was that they had stripped me naked and taken pictures of me so that they could blackmail me later. I liked that idea too. But something told me that that hadn't actually happened. I also convinced myself that asking them would be rather pointless, since if they didn't want to tell me I'd have no way of knowing. And if they lied to me and told me a different story, I'd have no way of knowing that it was a lie. "Did you sleep well?" Mom asked. "Yes," I said, still a little drowsily. "Say 'Yes, MOMMY!'" Randy corrected me, pinching my cheek as a punishment. "You know that you have to be careful about the way you talk!" Mom scolded him. "Randy! Don't do that. She doesn't have to talk that way if she doesn't want to." Then Roger said, "Mom, you'll confuse her. You want her to talk that way no less than Randy and I do. We've discussed this already." Mom hesitated, and then said, "The 'yes Mommy' business seems rather silly to me. It's cute when she does it, but I wouldn't force her to talk that way. In general I do think she should try to talk like an eight-year-old girl. I think it would be beneficial, both to her and to us. People won't think strange things about her or us. It would make all our lives easier. But nobody's going to force her to talk or behave any way she doesn't want to. Got that, boys? "Anyway, we woke you up early because we want to get on the road already, so we can stop on the way and see interesting things. I'm going to go finish making us our sandwiches for the road, and I'll give you the scraps for your breakfast. So just wait here and stay put." "Should I pack my clothes?" I asked. Mom said, "There's no need, baby girl. Mommy packed everything for you already. Oh, in the meantime, boys, you should make sure that she fits inside that duffle bag." "Oh yeah," Randy said, and left the room to get it. Mom also left the room to finish preparing the sandwiches. I looked at Roger, about to ask what this duffle bag thing was about, when he said, "Sorry, I forgot to pack a few things. Randy will explain. Stay in your room, please." Then he left. While I waited for Randy to return I started thinking about all that had happened recently. I liked that Mom and my brothers seemed a lot closer to me. It felt like we were all having a lot more fun. I felt like I was getting more comfortable in the body I was in, and beginning to enjoy it. Yet at the same time I wondered whether I'd made the right decisions. If I ever wanted to be treated like my true self - an adult male, again, would I be able to? Would they listen? My thoughts were cut short. Randy entered the room carrying a small, folded up dark brown, very thick and heavy-duty fake-leather duffle bag. He unfolded it and put it on the floor; unfolded it looked like a slightly-oversized bowling ball bag. It was cube shaped. A name tag said 'Contents Property of Rita, Roger and Randy Blank' with our address, phone number, and Mom's and Randy's emails, and 'if found, please contact us and return for reward. Please don't open bag under any circumstance'. It had a detachable shoulder strap and an attached ring with a lock hanging from it - that would allow the zipper to be locked shut. "What's that for?" I asked. "You," he said. "You heard Mom, she wants to know if you'll fit inside it." "What for?" I asked again. He shrugged. "She didn't really tell me. She just asked me to check that you fit inside. Let's test it out, and then you can ask her what it's about afterwards." "Do I have a choice?" I asked. He smiled, but said, "You're going inside. Sorry, but I don't want to upset Mom. But don't worry, you won't have to spend a long time inside." I said, "You know I will fall asleep as soon as I'm in there. I won't be able to ask to be let out. The carrot doesn't help me if I'm trapped in a very small place with no light." "I know. But like I said, you won't be in there long. Mom wants you to wear daytime clothes for the trip, not the nightgown you're wearing now. So, are you ready to get in?" I hesitated a bit, unsure of how much I wanted to cooperate with this, even though I knew that the chance of getting out of it was slim to none. I decided to take that chance. I made a run for the door. I didn't run fast enough, though. Randy saw what I was trying to do, blocked my path, and grabbed me by the wrist. Then he grabbed my collar and lifted me by the collar into the air. He held me at arms length and let go of my wrist. It was a weird feeling being held by the neck like that. It didn't hurt, but it made me feel silly, controlled, and compelled to obey. He carried me back across the room to where the duffle-bag was waiting for me. He placed me down inside the bag, and slid my feet to one end of the bag. Still holding my collar, he said 'kneel' and pushed me down onto my knees. He kept pushing me until my butt was sitting on my ankles. And then he folded the top of my body down over my legs. Holding the back of my head pressed into the bag, he repositioned my arms at my sides the way he liked them, and rearranged the sides of the bag a bit. "Don't worry," he said, rubbing my back soothingly. "I won't tell Mom you tried to get away." Then he began to zip up the bag, from my head to my butt. The bag got dark. I tried to move but couldn't. My consciousness began to leave me even before the bag was completely zipped. Before closing it completely, I felt his hand gently rub my butt for a seconds - bent over the way I was, the nightie had been pulled up and my panties were exposed once more, and that was what he touched. And then he zipped the bag the rest of the way. I heard the clicking of locks. And then I was out. "Wake up," Mom was saying as she and Roger pulled me out of the duffle bag. I was in the kitchen. "Eat your food so that we can go. Sorry, but I already packed your special bowl." I saw that the vegetable scraps that were to be my breakfast had been left on the lid of the garbage pail, which had been placed on the floor overturned, like a dish. I crawled across the floor to the food and ate it quickly. "Mommy, why do we need that duffle-bag?" I asked, noticing that it had been taken away while I was eating. "It's easier to carry around than that trunk we have for you. We are bringing the trunk too, since it can be locked more securely, but for the car ride we've packed it with clothes to save space. If we need to use it at Tom's house we can, but for the road, I thought a bag that could fold up when not in use would be best." "But why would you need anything like that at all?" "Don't worry, sweetie, you won't be put inside unless you want to be. It's for you, not for us. We thought you might want to be able to sleep through, or hide through some of the things we do on the trip. Also, if you agree to it, we might be able to save money at the motel if you're inside the bag while we check in. We'd let you out as soon as we were in the room, of course." "What hotel? Tom lives only three hours away!" "Sweetie, try to remember to call him 'Uncle Tom' from now on. 'Uncle Tom' and 'Auntie Amanda'. And we've decided to take the trip slow. We're going to stop in Clidewood on the way; there are a lot of interesting new tourist attractions there that the boys would like to see. We thought we might spend one night in a motel and drive to Tom's the next day. I have a voucher from work for one night in a Motel 6. If they let us all stay in the same room we'll be able to stay there for free." Mom worked so hard, such long hours. I was glad for her that she got that voucher from work. "OK, I'll go inside the bag while we enter the hotel if you think it makes a difference. But can you zip me up in the bag yourself, instead of Randy or Roger? It's embarrassing when they do it." "It is?" Mom asked. "Then they're doing something they shouldn't. I think I WILL let them put you in the bag when it's time, but I'll watch closely and make sure you're treated well. OK?" "OK Mommy," I said, not sure how else I could get out of this. "Now, sweetie, we have to get you changed for the trip. Would you like to pick out your outfit for today or can I? Most of your good stuff has been packed already." "Um, I can pick for myself. Well, what was it that you wanted me to wear?" "Just a simple, cute, shorts and T-shirt combo. It's not too girly or too juvenile looking, if that's what you're worried about. Definitely much less than what you're wearing now." "OK, well, I guess I can wear what you want me to wear, then, Mommy," Mom said, "That's great. Because little girls your age often have their clothes picked out for them. You're going to like what I have in mind. Your brothers will too." Mom cursed when she found out that she had accidentally already packed the outfit she wanted me to wear, and the suitcase was already in the car. "I could just wear something else - I'm sure that you didn't pack EVERYTHING I have," I said, trying to be comforting. "No," she said. "This is what I planned. Look. Do me a favour. I don't want to have to open the suitcase twice. Would you mind going into the bathroom and taking off the clothes you have on now, and passing them to me through the door? That way, I can put those in the suitcase when I take out your outfit for today. You can just stay in the bathroom with the door closed if you don't want anyone to see you naked. You can wrap yourself in a towel if that will make you feel more comfortable. I'll be back with today's outfit in a few minutes." That idea made me nervous, but I agreed. Inside the bathroom, I noticed that there was no towel hanging on the rack. "Well, just stay behind the door with the door closed. It'll be OK. If you want, I'll tell your brothers that you're in the bathroom naked so that they won't come in by accident." I opened the door a crack and handed her the night gown. "Underwear too, please," she said. I handed them to her, wondering why she was taking those. I supposed that a different pair of underwear went better with the outfit she was about to bring me. I waited nervously for Mom to return with my outfit. It seemed like ages before there was finally a knock on the door. I opened it a crack and peered outside. It was Randy. "Here's your clothes," Randy said. "Mom said to put them on quickly so that we can leave already." I took them from him and slammed the door quickly. Then I quickly put on the clothes. I wasn't sure what I thought of them. They definitely what I thought when I heard shorts and a T-shirt. And yet they weren't as bad as they could have been, either. There was a bright shiny flourescent green pair of spandex shorts, a matching tank-top undershirt, and a T-shirt to go on top. I knew that I couldn't get away with asking for a different outfit. I imagined that Mom would be extremely disappointed if I complained or refused to put the outfit on, and might even punish me somehow. I was disappointed that Mom hadn't sent me a pair of underwear to wear under the shorts. But I decided to just put it on. The shorts covered two thirds of my thighs. The undershirt was a crop-top, leaving much of my belly uncovered. Fortunately, there was a T-shirt to go with it, and the T-shirt was fairly decent. It was quite tight, but also a little bit long. It ended just below my crotch, so my butt and crotch were covered by it. The collar seemed to be cut off, creating a slightly wider, slightly uneven neckline. It was a little difficult to arrange the neck so that it covered both straps of the undershirt. I figured that was probably the point. The front of the T-shirt was quite cute, and I knew why Mom wanted me to wear it. It showed a stick drawing of two tall stick-men, with a really short stick-girl standing between them, stretching up her arms and holding their hands. The three of them had huge smiles drawn onto their faces. Above them, the caption, in little girl's printing letters said 'brothers always know best!' I laughed and thought it was a good idea to wear that outfit after all. My brothers would love it, and they'd probably be extra nice to me while I wore it. I felt quite self-conscious about the spandex shorts, but would have to live with it. I opened the door and stepped out of the bathroom just as Roger was approaching. "Good, you're dressed," he said. Then, looking at me, he said, "Wow, you look really cute! I love the shirt!" then he said, "Mom and Randy are already in the car. She said I should come get you and put you in the car and lock up. Are you ready?" "Yeah, I guess so," I said. "Great," he said, and held out his arms for me. "I can walk," I said. "I know. But will you let me carry you anyway?" he asked. "You look so adorable and I have a long drive ahead - I'm doing the first part." "OK, if you really want to," I said, and walked towards him. He lifted me under the armpits, and then tossed me over his shoulder, carrying me outside while he held onto my legs, with the top of my body handing down behind his back. Once at the car, he opened the back car door and, without placing me on the ground first, manoeuvered me into the car and placed me in a car seat! "A car seat?!" I said. "I don't sit in a car seat! I'm not a baby!" "It's called a 'booster', Mom said, "And it's the law now that children until age 12 or 135 cm tall must ride in one. Sorry, but we have to follow the law. We just bought that - it's state of the art." Roger and Randy both buckled me in. The 'booster's straps and buckles seemed rather complicated. There was a strap that went between my legs and attached to the lap belt, and another two straps that went over the shoulders, attaching to the lap belt as well. Then, a strap attached to one of the shoulder straps wound around the other shoulder strap and fastened back to itself. Once those were all fastened, the boys pulled on the straps somewhere behind the seats, making them all tighter. "Mom, why the weird seat? I know what kids' booster seats look like - they just fit the normal seatbelts." "Some of them do, and some are like this. This one was on sale. It was made to be good for kids with disabilities as well as normal kids. But the laws have changed, and kids with disabilities now need even more things, so this one is only still good for normal kids. So we got it on sale." "Mom, should we put the neck brace up?" Roger asked. "No, don't bother," Mom said. "What about the wrist straps?" he asked again. I then noticed that there were buckles attached to the arm rests, that could restrain my wrists. "Ask her if she wants them," Mom said. Before they asked me, I said, "No!" "Yeah, leave them open," Mom said. "She might need to use her hands to hold things, or, I got her a colouring book for the road, she'll need her hands to colour." Then I said, "You can put it on my left wrist, if you really want to. As long as you leave my right hand free. And as long as you won't mind if I use my free hand to unbuckle my left wrist, if I decide to do so." I held up my left hand and waved to Randy with it. Randy, who was sitting in the back seat to the left of my car seat, didn't wait a second. He grabbed my left arm and positioned it against the arm rest, and then buckled it down. He tightened that strap somewhere behind the seat as well. Then he said, "I don't think you'll be able to open it by yourself, though. I think you need to be able to reach back here to do it. But I certainly invite you to try." Meanwhile, Roger said, "And there's no reason not to buckle your ankles in. The safer, the better." The seat had two leg rests attached to it hanging down, and foot rests coming out at right angles at the bottom. Roger adjusted these so that they fit my short legs perfectly, and then buckled the ankle buckles tightly around my ankles. He adjusted the leg holders a little more, spreading my legs to about a 90-degree angle. I was glad that I was wearing shorts and not a skirt. Pretty soon we were on our way. Mom was sitting in front with Roger who was driving, and Randy was sitting in the back beside me. The drive was nice. I hadn't been out much since the transformation, hadn't been on a highway at all, and hadn't seen so much scenery. I really enjoyed it. Five minutes into the journey, Mom opened a container of dried figs. She and Randy started to pass them back and forth between them. Mom also occasionally would give Roger a fig or two in his hand. "Can Jasmine have some?" Randy asked Mom while he was holding them. I found the smell rather enticing and hoped I'd be allowed at least one or two. But Mom said, "No, she wouldn't want any. She told us not to waste people food on her, right Jasmine?" I was reluctant to respond, but said, "Um, yeah, I guess," slowly and hesitantly. They didn't seem to pick up on my hesitance, though. "We should give her the pits, though," Mom said. So Randy began feeding me the pits. Every time he'd eat one, he'd put the pit into my mouth and say "Swallow". And I would. I was happy that some of the flavour of the dates remained on the pits. He fed me Mom's and Roger's pits, too. I got excited when two dates fell on the floor and got knocked under the seats. Randy and Mom had to use their feet to get the dates out from under the seats, and by the time they did they were covered in sand, mud and some grass. Mom told Randy that he could give those two to me, and he did, without making any effort to clean them off. Despite that, I was grateful for them. I really enjoyed them, and thanked Mom and Randy for being so kind to me. Mom laughed. "Do you really feel that we're being kind to you?" she asked. "Yeah, well, sort of... I mean you didn't have to give me those." "But we didn't want them to go to waste, so we kind of had to." I didn't know how to respond. Mom said, "You know, darling, that we're having a bit of fun with you treating you this way. We really COULD give you a real date if you wanted one." "No we couldn't," Randy interjected. "They're gone." "I mean, in theory. But you're the one who suggested that we take this attitude with you. And I think it's cool that you're willing to do this. And I think it teaches you patience, humility, self-restraint. And builds character. So, just let me know if it ever gets to be too much. But as long as you don't complain too much, for now I'm going to continue. You DO still think it's important to preserve nature and not waste and so on, right?" "Yeah, it's OK. I mean, yeah it can be disappointing, but I can understand why you're doing it, especially since it helps nature. So it's OK, at least for now. I can survive without nice fit-for-humans fruit. It was nice of you to give me what you gave me. "You know that with my metabolism and the way my body is constructed, it doesnt' disturb me. I can enjoy those things pretty much just as much, taste-wise. The thing that I really feel is how I'm being treated differently than 'normal' people. But I'm sure I can get used to that." Mom said, "Good for you, I'm proud of you sweetie." After a few more minutes of driving, Mom said, "Can I ask you something, baby girl? I know you like to eat. But I also know that you're immortal and can't really be harmed. So, what does food do for you? What would happen to you if you were deprived of food for a long period of time?" "As far as I understand, not much would happen to me. I mostly eat things just because I enjoy it, not because I need it. So, in that way you're probably definitely right not to give me people food. I definitely don't need it the way real people do." "So nothing happens to you if you don't get any food or water? For days? For years?" "I'd miss the enjoyment, but nothing would happen to me. The only thing that I've noticed is that when I eat and drink, the special juices that my skin produces seems to regenerate faster. So, you know, like, if you were to lick off all my juice, and then you were to want more - it would come back quicker if you gave me something to eat or drink. But even without that, I can get some nutrients straight from the air, so the juice regenerates even without me having any food. It just takes slightly a little bit longer." "I see," Mom said. "Cool. Good to know. So, from what you're saying it seems that it really is a good idea to only feed you things that would otherwise go to the garbage, or things that grow wild. There's no reason to spend money on food for you." "I think that's correct." "Here's another date pit," Mom said, passing back a somewhat sandy date pit. It obviously had been on the floor, too. "Thanks, Mom," I said. Then Roger said, "MomMY! Remember? You're supposed to call her Mommy like little girls do! Not 'Mom'!" "Don't be silly, Roger! She can call me whatever she wants. We've already established that." "She needs to sound her age, though. Especially in front of people who don't know her secret. You don't want people to think that you're weird, do you, Jasmine?" he asked me. "Well, no," I said, hesitating slightly. "And you know that Mom loves hearing you call her 'Mommy'. So why wouldn't you?" he asked again. "I don't mind calling you 'Mommy', I just forget sometimes, that's all. No big deal. Roger's right that it's probably a good idea to do that in public. There are so many other weird things about me as it is." "So, if you forget, it's a good thing for us to remind you. Especially when it's just us. That way we help you learn." "Yeah, I don't mind being reminded, as long as you do it nicely and not in a mean way. You know, constructive criticism, as they say." "I prefer to use 'positive reinforcement' rather than criticism," Mom said. "OK, Mommy. You know best," I said. Mom said, "Randy, reward little Jasmine with a nice tummy rub!" I wouldn't have chosen that as my 'reward', but I giggled and cooed as he rubbed my tummy. Then Roger said, "Also, and maybe even more importantly, you need to get used to using more simple words, not fancy words that only grown-ups use. Once in a while it's OK, of course - little kids sometimes learn them by reading. But you're not much of a reader. In general, try to use simple words when you speak. Instead of saying 'beneficial', for example, you could have just said 'good'. 'Constructive criticism' is a phrase that you shouldn't use - instead just say 'teaching me a lesson' or something like that." "Good point," I said. "So let me rephrase that... no wait... let me say that again in a different way. I don't mind being helped, being told when I accidentally make a mistake. I need to get used to talking like a little girl. I want all the help I can get." "That sounds much better, baby girl!" Mom now said with a smile. I actually felt a little disappointed that she was buying into this so quickly. It felt safer saying that I wanted this when I thought she didn't think it was necessary. Now that she was agreeing to it, I might have no way out. "You'll get the hang of it if you try hard. We also need to remember not to use big words when we talk to you. So if we use words that you don't understand, or words that you THINK you shouldn't understand, ask us 'what does that mean, please'." "OK Mommy, I'll try," I said. Then Roger surprised me and said, "There probably should be a consequence, a punishment. Not such a harsh one, of course. But some incentive not to use words she shouldn't. Otherwise, what deterrence does she have? I don't think we should rely on positive reinforcement alone. She might not truly make the effort for that. Don't you think so, Jasmine? Don't you think it will help you remember if you know that you'll be slightly punished for a mistake?" This surprised me, because it was the kind of thing I would have expected from Randy, not from Roger. He asked again. "Jasmine? Don't you think it will help you?" "Maybe..." I said cautiously. "But what would the punishment be? And I'm sure there will be lots of mistakes, especially at first. I don't think one or two slips should be considered that bad." "The punishment should fit the crime, right?" he said. "So the punishment should be that you lose your ability to speak for some time. With garlic, I mean. Maybe for six hours, or for the rest of the day - Mom can decide. And, I think you're right, you should have a few warnings. Maybe you get the punishment after the fifth mistake in one day?" "These are all great ideas," Mom said. "And I think it's great, and very brave of you, Jasmine, to agree that something like this would help you. But five mistakes is too many. Especially if it's on the same day. Let's say third mistake in one day, or the fifth mistake in three consecutive days. And you will get silenced with garlic for a full twenty-four hour period. What do you think?" I thought about it. "That... seems a little much to me. Does this include if I use a word like 'difficult' instead of 'hard'? It's going to be really 'hard' for me to remember that. And who gets to judge?" "I don't think it's too harsh, it sounds reasonable to me," Mom said. "But let's make it even more detailed and address some of your concerns. "Let's say that if you get to a stage when you're supposed to be punished - three in one day, or five in three days, you will be given an option of an extension, of postponing your punishment. If you choose the extension, you won't be punished yet, until you violate five times in one day or seven in two days. Really that means you get another two times. BUT if you do that, then your punishment gets tripled in length. So instead of twenty-four hours you'll get seventy-two hours plus whatever's left until your bedtime. Actually, the twenty-four hour punishment should also be until your bedtime - twenty-four plus whatever's left until your bedtime that day. So, this way, where you have the possibility of an extension, you have more control over your destiny. More say in the matter. "And, regarding who gets to judge - the answer is that any one of us - your brothers and me, can decide that you made a violation. And we don't have to give you a list of words ahead of time; use your common sense, and if in doubt, do without. You may ask us IN PRIVATE questions like 'am I allowed to say such-and-such' without being punished. But not in front of others. "And you can appeal any of our decisions if you think they are unfair. In that case, the case will have to be decided by a vote of your brothers and me. But with a cost. If the vote affirms the original ruling, the punishment will be for a whole week. A whole seven days." "Such strict rules!" I said, somewhat excited, but nervous nonetheless. "Maybe we can give it a test-run for a couple of weeks, to see if it's too hard for me? Do I even have a say in the matter?" Mom thought. "Well, if you think it is too hard, you can ask us to reconsider, or to reconsider some of the details. But ultimately we will decide, not you. This suggestion is making more and more sense to me as we discuss it. Even though normally I would give you a choice in the matter, letting you decide willingly if you agree to it or not, I think that in this case it's different, because it doesn't just effect YOUR life, it effects all of ours. "It might be hard for you but try to understand, little one, that if you speak in a strange way for your age, people will think bad things about your brothers and me! If you say something like 'the fundamentals of the preliminary hypothesis are tragically peculiar' people will make fun of US for the way we are raising you. So I think that maybe you can have SOME say in the matter, but ultimately it will have to be our decision and not yours. In fact, why don't we say that anytime we have a vote on something to do with this issue, we will give you one half of a vote. I will get a vote and a half since I'm your mother, and your brothers each get one whole vote. You'll be able to break ties in your favour, but if there's a clear majority then your vote won't matter." Roger said, "There could be a tie, then, even with her vote. What do we do then? Like if Randy and me both vote X, and you and Jasmine both vote Y, that would be considered 2 to 2. What would we do then?" "Good point," Mom said. "OK, then Jasmine's vote is only a quarter of a vote. In the scenario you described, the boys would win. Which is fair because it really should be 2 to 1. So, Jasmine, your vote is necessary really if your brothers each vote something different and I can't make up my mind. You can still vote together with us, but you'll know that it probably won't matter whatever you vote. "Let's start with a vote on this whole thing, then. All in favour of beginning this system, according to the rules we've just set?" Mom and the boys all raised their hands. "Fine," I said, and raised my hand too. "Done," Mom said. "Consider that your first and only warning." Randy said, "What if she doesn't use a big word, but she does speak in a way that isn't really appropriate. Like if she doesn't say 'please' and 'thank-you'?" "Well, that wasn't really what this was supposed to be about. But it is true that little girls need to be very polite, all the time. What do you say, Jasmine? Should this system also apply to 'please' and 'thank-you'?" I thought, unsure. "How about we consider that only half a crime?" "Good suggestion," Mom said. "I think that's fair. All in favour?" Everyone put up their hand. "I guess if I use bad language, like swear words... what do little kids call that? Oh yeah, if I have a 'potty mouth', maybe that should also count for half a crime, too. You don't want me swearing, right?" "I see your point," Mom said. "But... hmmm... swearing is a little worse than forgetting 'please' and 'thank-you'. Let's say that swearing, if it's just in front of us three, will be considered three-quarters of a crime, but if it's in front of other people it will be considered a full crime. Or, at least, at our discretion." "OK," I said. They put that to the vote, too, and it got finalized. I said, "So you can add in if I call you 'Mom' instead of 'Mommy'. I know you told me that I don't have to do that anymore. But since it makes you happy and I really don't mind, we can count it too. I think it sounds kind of cute when I hear my voice say 'Mommy'. So maybe count 'Mom' as, I dunno, a third of a crime too?" Mom laughed and said, "OK darling, I can't object to that. It DOES sound very cute when you say 'yes Mommy'. If you're sure you're OK with it. But I think that if your thoughts on the 'Mommy'/'Mom' issue ever change, you can just ask for permission to switch back to 'Mom', OK?" I nodded and smiled. "Yes, Mommy!" I said. Everyone laughed, and Randy gave me another belly-rub reward. "Any other suggestions?" Mom asked. Nobody could think of any. So I said, "How about to start things off, as a gift from me to you all, I could start off, today, as if I have one strike against me already?" "That's a brave idea, Jasmine, but then, to keep things consistent - just go ahead and say a big word. Just now. Knowing that it's going to get you in trouble." "OK," I said, thinking hard. It was already hard to think of those big words, but I still had them in my brain. "Allow me to express my gratitude to you all for allowing me to... enhance my... culpability... this here day!" Everyone laughed, but Roger said, "Hold on. That was at least three, if not four or five big words! Gratitude, enhance, culpability? Maybe allowing? Express? Gratitude?" Mom laughed too and said, "You should be more careful, Jasmine. But let's just call that one strike, since they were all in the same sentence. Though, next time, we might not be so generous." My eyes lit up. I didn't want to stop there. So, with a big smile on my face I said, "That's fucking awesome!" We all laughed. Mom said, "OK, that makes 1.75. I suggest you stop there, because you're almost at three." I giggled some more. "Yes, Mommy," I said. After five minutes' drive in silence, I said, "Mommy, may I please ask one more question, about the new rules?" "Yes you may, baby. What is it?" Mom asked. "Well, I was thinking. Let's say I get one or two points, and I'm a little worried about the future. Is there any way that I can wipe my slate clean, maybe take a little punishment by my own asking, so that I can go back down to zero?" "That's a really good question. Hmm, let's see. OK, I think that's fair. It will work like this: You may ask any of us to wipe your slate clean, as you put it, for you. And we get to decide whether or not we will grant your request. If we agree to do it, then your punishment will be proportional to the amount of points you have against you. For instance, if you have one point, it will be a third of what you will get. So, eight hours instead of twenty-four. Or, for two points, sixteen hours. It's a little complicated since your punishment is supposed to be eight hours plus whatever's left until bedtime. So, for this, we'll have to take the 'leftover' into consideration too. If your punishment begins at nine in the morning, and your bedtime is at eight-thirty at night - that means eleven and a half hours. So we would take 24 plus 11.5 and get... 35.5, and divide that by three, getting just under 12 hours. And to keep things simple we will say no partial hours, we'll always round up to the next hour. So, 12 hours would wipe your slate clean. If we do it this way, though, if your punishment is less than 24 hours, then the time that you're asleep doesn't count towards the number of hours the punishment lasts. "Of course, like I said, we don't have to agree to wipe your slate clean. But if you do ask for it, we have the right to do so at any time before you reach the real punishable amount. So we could even say no, and then come back to you in the evening and say we're wiping your slate as per your request, and then we can do it. And then, for the number of hours, we will calculate the amount for when you first asked for it and also calculate it at the time we want to start the punishment, and take whichever is bigger. "Lastly, one more thing: If this happens, wiping the slate doesn't mean that you go down to zero. After the wiping, you will be left with a third of a point against you if we wiped one point, and two thirds of a point against you if we wiped two points. And if you ask us to wipe one point even though you've earned two points, then we can do that, and you'll be left with one and a third. And so on." "This sounds so complicated," I said. "Don't worry about it. Just concentrate on not earning the points to begin with, OK baby?" "Yes Mommy." "Aren't you glad we came up with this amazing system to help you learn how to speak properly?" "Yes, Mommy, I am really glad. Thank you so much," I said, trying my best to sound like I meant it. But I didn't. "We all take really good care of our little baby doll, right sweet one? We take your welfare and your education very serious." "Yes you do - thank you! I'll give you all kisses once I can come out of this chair." "You're in luck," Roger said. "We've arrived at our first rest stop." * * * He parked the car and everyone got out. I spent a few minutes trying to unfasten the buckles of my car seat, with no success. It was very frustrating! I could see that they were not locked with any keys, yet I just couldn't get them open! I wasn't sure if this was the result of the loss in dexterity that was the result of the antidote, or some kind of mind game that my mind was doing to me, not allowing myself to release myself from the restraints that others wanted me to be in. "Do you give up?" Roger asked me. "These are designed for children not to be able to get out of them, you know." "Yes, I give up. May I please be let out of the car?" Mom said, "The correct way to ask is 'may I please be let out of my car seat' or 'may I please be let out of my child restraint.'" "Yes, Mommy. May I please be let out of my child restraint?" Roger laughed, and kissed me on the forehead. Then he let me out. Remembering what I had promised them, I asked to be lifted up so that I could give each of them a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Each of them took a turn using the washroom, while at least one of them stayed with me at a picnic table, holding my wrist in their hand. Mom and Randy sat, holding me on their laps and cuddling me. But Roger just held my wrist and told me some sports-related things that I found boring. Soon we were ready to be on our way again. Mom came up to me while I was sitting on Randy's lap and said, "Give me your arm, sweetie." Not knowing why she was asking for this, I gave her my hand, the one that Randy wasn't holding onto. She grasped my wrist and pulled my arm out straight, and then pushed my sleeve up to my shoulder. Then, without explaining or asking first, she began to lick me, starting with my fingers, and covering the entire length of my arm until my shoulder. When she finished that she asked Randy for my other arm, and did the same thing to that one. "Excellent," she said. "Much better than coffee. I feel very alert! Thanks, baby girl!" Then she held my face in her hands and kissed me on both cheeks, the tip of my neck, and quickly on the lips. I expected her to lick my face as well, but she didn't, she just kissed me. "You're welcome, glad that I could help you, Mommy," I said, a little confused. She laughed and said, "Since you're such a polite little girl, I think I'll strap you into your restraint by myself." She held out her arms for me. I leaned towards her, and she picked me up, holding me against her hip. She carried me away from my brother, to the car, opened my door, and put me down inside my car seat. "Now let's get you fastened in all safe and secure," she said as she held me tightly against my seat with her hand pressed into my stomach. With her free hand, she quickly buckled the waist belt and the strap that came up between my legs. Once those were fastened, she took her hand off my stomach, and quickly and efficiently fastened the shoulder straps. Then she buckled my ankles to the leg rests, and then slid my legs apart, locking the seat. "110 degrees, that should be comfortable for you and safe," she said. Apparently the seat had a way of measuring the angle. "There you go, sweet baby. Now we can be sure that you won't fall out of your seat!" "But Mommy, you know that I wouldn't fall out anyway, because I can stick to things with my skin. And even if I did fall out, I wouldn't be hurt." "I know, sweetie. But it's mainly just in case we get stopped by the police. By law we're required to keep you in a child restraint. Remember? Also, I think it's a good thing for you to practise your patience, and your dependence on adults to give you your basic needs. Young children your age behave that way naturally. And also, it gives me peace of mind, knowing that you have to stay exactly where I put you and can't get away even if you wanted to. Of course, I know how good and obdedient you are, and that you'd never even want to get away. But I just feel more confident and safer knowing that I have you controlled. "I hope you don't mind me telling you all this. I'm being completely honest with you. You know, I love you so much - we all do! And I feel so lucky that I have you. Quite naturally I feel very possessive of you. I would never want anyone else to ever get ahold of you without my permission. So I feel better when you let me do things like this to you. As long as you don't mind, of course. It makes ME feel really special and fortunate, like I own the best, most exotic, mose expensive pet in the world: YOU! And I don't just THINK that, you know; I really believe it! "You know that if you need to get out for whatever reason, even if you just want to, we'll let you out. You are not trapped here. And if being this way really bothers you, just say so and I'll undo your ankles and you can be here just with the regular buckles." Her gentleness combined with her complete honesty was a little confusing to me. I wondered if I wouldn't have been better not quite knowing why she was doing these things to me. And at the same time, she was being SO nice to me, stroking my legs, arms and cheek, and smiling. After checking once more that everything was tight and secure, she stroked my cheek, leaned over and said, "I love you so much, Jasmine. Do you want me to unbuckle your legs? Because I will, if you want me to. It's OK if you do." "Well, I guess it doesn't really matter while we're driving anyway, right? It's not like I could be anywhere else. So you can leave me like this for now, if it really does make you that happy." "It does, and thanks," she said. "But you DO have an alternative. You COULD be inside a bag in the trunk if you want." "No thanks," I said with a laugh. "Good, I'm glad," Mom said. "I'm glad you prefer to be here with us. I'd miss you if you weren't." "I'd miss you too," I said. Mom laughed. "No you wouldn't, silly. If I put you in the drunk you'd be fast asleep until I took you out. So you wouldn't feel lonely! You wouldn't feel anything!" "Do you think you're going to do that to me sometime?" I asked, wondering. "Sometime? Probably, I suppose it will happen. Eventually. But I don't know when. I don't have any plans to do so. I guess if you ever got tired or bored and specifically asked for it. Or if you started talking too much and we needed some quiet." "But then you could just give me some garlic and that would shut me up, couldn't you?" "Well, you tell me, silly girl. What would you dislike more - to have your ability to speak taken away, or to be put away in the trunk just like an overused, unwanted toy, completely removed from all the action?" "To be put in the trunk, of course!" "Then that would be a better punishment for you than just silencing you, right? Am I right? You'd learn to behave better in the future, right?" "Yes, Mommy, I guess you're right." Mom was touching my left wrist, tracing her way around it with her finger. I knew what she was thinking. "You want to lock my wrist too, right Mommy?" I didn't think I had given permission for her to do this, yet. I somehow new that in the end I was at least going to let her have my left wrist like before, and that there was a good chance that within a few minutes my right wrist would be locked down as well. And, of course, I admit that the thought of that did excite me. But I still thought I was in control a bit and that I would decide. I would have to give the final 'OK'. And I thought I would strike some kind of deal with her first, allowing her to have my left wrist in exchange for something, and perhaps my right wrist as well in exchange for something else. I wasn't yet sure what I would ask for in return, but I was beginning to formulate some ideas in my mind when Mom quickly grabbed my right wrist and pinned it down to the arm rest of the child restraint. "Thanks for offering," Mom said with a smile and a wink. "You're right, I DO want to do that too! Of course I do!" I gasped in shock. I hadn't offered, and was very surprised that Mom had interpreted my question as consent! And I think before I finished gasping, my right wrist was locked down to the chair! Mom said, "What's the matter, honey? You seemed surprised about something?" while tightening the strap a little more, making sure that it was absolutely secure. For some reason I didn't bother mentioning that she had misinterpreted what I'd said. For some reason it felt like it was too late to bring that up. What I did say, though, was "Last time I only consented to my have my LEFT wrist locked down, leaving my stronger hand free. You took my RIGHT hand!" Mom laughed, rubbed my head and kissed me on the cheek. She was still laughing so I said, "What's so funny, Mommy? Why are you laughing at me?" She tried to stop laughing and said, "Sweetheart, with your new superpowers, haven't you become ambidextrous? You know, able to use both left and right equally as well? Are you still right handed?" I thought for a second. "I don't know, Mommy. I guess, now that you mention it, I probably can use my left hand too. I don't think I've tried, though. I'm so used to always using my right." "We'll test you later, when we get to the hotel. But I think, for now, that it really makes no difference if your left or right wrist is locked down. OK?" There was more, though. Even if it wouldn't take away more of my abilities, in my mind it looked like a bigger sacrifice on my part, a bigger submission, letting my 'stronger' hand be taken from me. But I didn't think I'd be able to adequately explain that and didn't try. Instead, noticing where she was looking, I said, "I'm not saying that you should do this. But you really want to lock down my other wrist as well, don't you Mommy?!" She laughed and said, "Is mind reading another of your new superpowers?" "No, but I can see you keep looking at it." She laughed and said, "Well, don't you think I should?" "Why would I think that you should, Mommy?" "Because you let your brother have one wrist, and I'm your Mommy, not your brother. Shouldn't your Mommy get a better present than your brother? Doesn't that make sense to you?" "I guess so," I said. And I started to formulate the continuation of my thought in my mind, to say to her, beginning with 'but...'. But I never actually said that word 'but'. Immediately she said, "I agree, thanks, baby, for being so good to me." And she grabbed my other wrist, and within seconds it was locked down, too. Suddenly I got a really weird feeling throughout my body. I was completely restrained yet again. I couldn't move my arms or legs, and those were all locked down in a very open, vulnerable position. But she didn't stop there. Without warning me first, she moved the sides of the headrest of the seat, bending them forward so that they were pressed against the sides of my head - preventing me from turning my head to the sides, and blocking a lot of my side-vision. I could still move my head forward a little, and tip my head down towards my chest, but I couldn't move it far enough forward to get it out from between the turned in headrest pieces. I struggled a bit against my seat, emphasizing to myself how I was even more helpless than a few seconds before when my second wrist had been locked down! Mom said, "You get to see what horses are sometimes forced to do," she said. "You've seen horses wearing blinders, so they can only see forward?" "Yeah, but why?" I asked. "So they're not distracted," she said, and stroked my face with her hand. What I meant to ask was why she was doing that to ME, not why people did that to horses. But my mind got distracted by another question I wanted to ask her, a worry I suddenly had. "What are you going to tell Roger and Randy?" I asked her. "Please don't tell them I suggested that you do this to me." For some reason at that moment, having my brothers know that I willingly gave up my freedom seemed a lot more humiliating to me than having them think this was forced on me. "Don't worry," Mom said. "I'll tell them that this was my idea. Maybe a punishment for something." "Mommy, could you maybe move my legs together a bit?" "Why, is it uncomfortable like that?" "Well, no, but I'm worried it looks bad. I mean, you know... too sexy. I feel funny about my brothers seeing me like this." Mom rubbed the inside of my thigh with her hand - it felt nice. Then she said, "Don't be silly, baby, there's nothing sexy about you. you're just a little girl. Don't forget, you've been given that antidote. It just looks cute, nothing more. Your brothers SHOULD see you this way." And without explaining, but I guess as a punishment, she moved my legs open two more notches. There wasn't any more time to talk about it, as my brothers began to get into the car. Mom got into the drivers' seat, Randy into the front passenger seat, and Roger in back with me. Mom, Roger and Randy started talking about stuff they'd read in the newspaper. I had a bit of a hard time following the conversation, as I didn't really know what they were talking about. But I didn't want them to think I was dumb, so I did my best to add some comments here and there. The first couple of times they laughed at me. And then Mom said, "Sweetie, please be quiet now and let the grownups talk. We love you very much. But you don't know anything about this, and you're just being disruptive. We'll talk with you about something you know soon, OK? If it's too hard for you we can give you a little garlic to help you out." I pouted and didn't respond. "Do you understand, sweetie?" Mom asked me. "Yes Mommy," I said. "Would you like a little sliver of garlic to help you?" "No, Mommy, that's OK. I'll be good." "Good," she said. And they returned to their conversation. They talked more and more. I desperately tried to figure out what they were talking about, but couldn't. And finally I just gave up. * * * I was daydreaming, since they were talking about 'adult' things. Politics, but more than that I couldn't tell you. Finally, Mom called my name. "Jasmine, can you listen and tell us what's going on outside? Why are we stuck in traffic like this? Can you hear anything?" "Someone's in trouble," I said. "Someone fell. They're calling a name, Caleb. A woman is really worried. Can you let me out of my seat? I'd like to go see. Maybe I could help." Mom said, "Roger, let her out. I'll go with her. You can come into the driver's seat in case the traffic starts moving. If it does, look for somewhere close to part so that I can find the car." It took Roger four minutes to get me completely unbuckled. I wanted to run ahead, but Mom made me stay by her side. She held onto the back of my collar. When we got closer, though, there was a big crowd gathered and we couldn't get right to the front. "Please, Mommy, let me go. I can get closer by going down the side of the mountain. I know what happened, I heard people talking about it. A little boy in a car seat rolled down the mountain and is stuck down there. It's too hard for anyone to get down there and they're waiting for rescue services, but the boy's parents are worried that they're taking too long and that he might be really hurt. If you let me go save him I promise I'll come right back to you right away." Mom nodded, but said, "OK but take your shirt off. If you're climbing down the mountain, I don't want it getting dirty or torn - it's a special shirt that your brothers got you. I'll let you put it back on before we go back to the car so your brothers don't see you like that." There wasn't time to argue. The little boy's life was in danger - I could hear his heartbeat and breathing. So I gave her the shirt and went down the side of the mountain wearing just the shorts and sports-bra. I got to the boy. He was badly injured. I saved his life, cured his injuries, and then brought him back up the side of the cliff to his parents. I ran away from them as soon as they had him so that they wouldn't ask questions. Mom had gotten closer, and I ran up to her. She quickly grabbed my collar once more. "Good girl! I'm so proud of you!" she said. "And I'm glad I made you take off your shirt - look how dirty your shorts and top are. At least they don't have any holes in them," she said, making me turn around so that she could see them up close. I told Mom that I would clean them, but Mom said "Not now." We were behind schedule, and the cars were moving again. She found a secluded area at the side of the road and, with my back turned towards her, she made me take the bra off, and then made me put the shirt on, without a bra underneath. I told her that I was worried, since the shirt's neck was so open, but she told me it would only be for a minute until we got back to the car and that I could be careful until then. Once I was wearing the shirt, she made me take the shorts off too. VERY, very carefully I walked with her back to the car, as she held on to me by the back of my collar. I felt so sill wearing only that flimsy T-shirt, with nothing else, not even underwear! And the car wasn't where we had left it, so we had to walk a bit to find it. I was sure that for a second I'd 'mooned' a passing car as a sudden gust of wind came, while we walked on the side of the highway. Back at the car, Mom asked Randy to hold my collar while she found me something else to wear. Roger was still sitting in the car, but he came out when he saw me. "Are you wearing anything under that?" he asked me, seeing how I was holding my legs together super-self-consciously. I wanted to lie, but thought I might get punished for that. So I just didn't respond. Mom, who had her head in the trunk, emerged for a moment and said, "Jasmine, dear, it's polite to answer questions when they're asked. You have nothing to be ashamed of. You did a great thing saving that kid. And none of your private parts are showing. Answer your brother." "No, I'm not," I said rather quietly. "Not even underwear?" Randy asked. "No," I said, looking down, ashamed. "Boys, go back into the car," Mom said. "Here, put these shorts on." She gave me a pair of silver, shiny, lycra shorts. Before I put them on I could tell they would be much shorter on me than the green ones I was wearing before. Mom told the boys to stay in the car, looking forward. She had me stand behind the car, between her and the car. She turned around and looked away, but stayed holding onto my collar, reaching behind her body. I quickly put the shorts on. They were MUCH shorter. Only a centimetre or two stuck out beneath my shirt. Mom gave me a matching bra. Although it was made of the same material as the shorts, this bra wasn't sports-bra style like the bright green one. This one had very thin spaghetti straps which crossed at the top of my back, between my shoulder blades, before attaching to the very thin strap that went across my back. The front was made of two triangles, joined together in the centre, unlike the bras I usually wore which were one rectangle that went across both breasts. I probably just imagined it, but I thought that this one made my breasts look more noticeable than usual. In order to put the bra on, I knelt down on the road with my chest facing the back of the car. I quickly slipped the shirt off, held it between my legs, and pulled the bra on and into place. Then I quickly put the shirt on, stood up, and turned around to face Mom. She was watching me and said, "I hope you don't mind me saying this, sweetie, but I saw your body a moment ago when you weren't wearing anything except your shorts. Fom the back, of course. And I just want you to know that it's going to be really amazing when you start feeling comfortable with wearing bikinis in public. Everyone's going to go nuts when they see you! Nobody will be able to take their eyes off you. You really have the most perfect little body!" I didn't say anything - I had no idea how to respond to that. But I gave her a very horrific look. So she said, "Oh, don't worry honey, I don't mean that in a sexual way at all - you're just a little child, after all. I just meant in a pure, beauty way. You're like a little angel, a cherub. I just can't wait till I can show off your body to other people like that, that's all. But don't worry, I'll wait until you're ready for that. No pressure." Mom was about to put me back into the car when my brothers came out. Randy came and held my hand, while Roger asked Mom to step away with him so that they could talk in private for a few moments. Randy told me not to listen in, and, instantly, I couldn't hear a word of what they were saying. When they came back, Mom gave me a big hug and said, "Bad news, little girl. I've given your brother permission to put you in the trunk for a while." "What? Why?" I asked, feeling hurt and betrayed. Instead of answering my question, though, Mom just said, "Just accept it. It's not up for discussion. You look really, really adorable in those shorts, though, so don't worry, I'm sure they'll let you out pretty soon, when they want to play with you again." "But Mom, why?" I asked again, fighting back a tear. Mom hugged me once more, kissed me on the cheek and said, "I expect you to behave and do exactly as your told. And give a nice hug and kiss to both your brothers, if they want that." And then she got into the car and closed the door, leaving me standing outside with my brothers. Randy was holding my wrist tightly while Roger was taking the small duffle-bag out of the trunk and getting it ready for me. I considered trying to escape, but knew it would be physically impossible for me to do that unless they let go of me. And then I was reminded how even if I did do that, they'd be able to find me and recapture me because of the chips in my body. There was no way out of it! "Why are you doing this to me, Roger?" "It's for your sake just as much as ours," he said, taking me from my other brother and holding me in the air above the open duffle-bag. "We're almost at the city, and we're going to need to check into the hotel. Mom already told you that you have to be in the bag when we check in and out of the hotel, so they don't see you. And there are a couple of sports museums that we want to go see, and you'd find them totally boring. So we're doing you a favour by letting you escape them." "No you're not!" I complained. "So I'd be bored. I'd still rather be awake, and with you!" Roger just shook his head and said, "Trust me. You're better off this way. Anyway, the decision's already been made, it's not up for debate. Please give us each a nice hug and kiss, like Mom said, and then you're going to sleep." I REALLY didn't feel like rewarding them with hugs and kisses! But Randy asked me, "Who gets the first hug - me or Roger?" And since he was being less controlling than Roger, I said, "You." Randy took me out of Roger's hands and held me in the air. For some reason, being held so close, I did feel like hugging him, despite what was going on to me. I hugged Randy tightly, wrapping my legs around his middle. He hugged me back, holding me up with a hand on my butt. "Is this OK?" he whispered in my ear, apparently referring to his hand on my butt. It was already there, so I just nodded. He kissed me on the cheek and I kissed him back. Then he said, "I'll miss you, little sister. Don't worry, you won't be in there very long. At least, I don't think you will." After giving me another kiss on the cheek and squeezing me a little tighter, he passed me back to Roger. Roger held me with a hand on my butt too, and, somewhat reluctantly I wrapped my legs around his middle as well. He hugged and kissed me, and feeling like there wasn't any point in refusing, I hugged and kissed him in return. Then, very quickly, he said "Sweet dreams" and put me into the duffle-bag. From the time my feet first touched the bottom of the bag until I had been pushed inside, folded up, and zipped up could only have been maybe five seconds maximum. One of their hands held my back down firmly as the zipper was closed. I heard the clicks of locks being placed on the bag, and then I was out. * * * As usual, it took me a while to get my bearings back when I was let out of the bag. I was disappointed to find out that much longer had passed than anyone had planned - it was nearly 11 o'clock at night! They explained that while they were at the sports museum they met a family - a single dad with two daughters, somewhere between Roger's and Randy's ages. They were from out of town, too, and the two families decided to go out for dinner, drinks and more, and had just returned to the hotel. Instead of just going to sleep while leaving me in the duffle-bag, Mom 'very kindly' insisted on letting me out so that I could spend some time with them. At first I felt really upset, dismayed and betrayed by what they had done to me, leaving me in the bag like that. Why couldn't I have gone to dinner with them, too? Why did they think I got in the way? But then I noticed something else. Based on their smells, I guessed that all three of them had gotten laid that evening. I'm not sure how I felt, knowing that about my brothers. I think part of me was relieved that they were taking out their sexual tension on someone else other than me, while another part of me actually felt jealous and betrayed and hurt, thinking something like 'am I not good enough for them' and, a tiny, tiny bit, missing the days before I'd received the antidote. Regarding my mother, though, it was another story. I think my initial thoughts were worry and protectiveness. I remembered how she'd felt around Clark. And I remembered how, when my brothers were clearly feeling sexually attracted to me, they had treated me worse than an object; like something to conquer, use, violate, defile... I remembered how humiliated I'd felt, and felt bad for my mother being in that situation. But then I noticed that she didn't seem to be feeling bad at all. Her body language, her facial expressions and general mood were showing me that she was a lot happier than she had been in quite a while, that she was a lot more calm and relaxed. She was almost shining. I saw that she was genuinely happy that she'd had sex, and I decided that it had been a good thing for her. I stopped worrying about her. But I worried a bit about myself, about what it would be like for me if I ever actually wanted to have sex and submitted to it willingly. In any case, since I was glad that Mom had been able to do that, I stopped being upset that I'd been left in the bag so long. When the boys went out to fill up the ice container and look for a pop machine, Mom and I started talking. I was sitting on her lap, and she was stroking my hair and my legs. "I hope you're not upset that I kept you asleep in the duffle-bag, sweetie. You know, I fully intended to let you out as soon as we checked into the hotel. It was just, well, this whole thing with our dates. I didn't know how we'd explain to them that you suddenly just appeared in our lives and had to come with us all to dinner." "Mom, you had sex tonight, didn't you?" "How do you know?" she asked. "I can smell it," I explained. She was a little surprised and said, "What exactly can you smell?" "Your body just smells like it recently had sex. Your natural scent is just slightly different. And I guess I can see that your skin is slightly more moist, slightly more shiny. And I'm guessing you didn't use a condom, because I can smell the guys semen inside you." Mom was a little creeped out by this. "Don't worry," I explained. "I've gotten used to smelling EVERYTHING on a person. You can tell a lot about a person by their smell. It doesn't bother me. As long as I know that you're happy about it. Are you glad that you had sex? Did you enjoy it?" "I don't think a Mommy is supposed to talk to her little girl about this sort of thing," she said. "But yes, I am happy. It was very good. Keith was really kind and fun." There were a few moments of awkward silence. Neither of us knew what to say. Then Mom finally said, in a whisper, "I'm guessing that your brothers both, um, had sex tonight too." "I know, I could tell that, too. I could smell the girls on them." Just then the boys walked back into the room. So I said, "Randy, Roger, can I tell Mom what I think I know about what you did tonight?" "Know how?" Roger asked. "Just based on the smells in the air. Will you be too embarrassed?" "Go ahead," they both said, obviously more curious to see if I'd know, than worried about Mom hearing. "They were twins, right? I can smell two girls but their scents are so similar that I'm guessing that they're identical twins. And it seems to me that the four of you all had sex together. What do you call that? An orgy... I c