The Last Straw (new 11/24)

[neverdoubted]

Contents

Day 1
Chapter 1 (below)
Chapter 2
Chapter 3

Day 2
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11

Day 3
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17

Synopsis: Wanna hear about the time my sister messed up so bad, she had to go on our summer family road trip completely naked? It all started when she pushed dad a little too far. You could say it was the last straw.

Themes: ENF, public nudity, bondage, mf. Note: this story may contain explicit sexual depictions between step-siblings.

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Author's Note: Copyright 2024 NeverDoubted. Please do not repost this story on other sites without permission (neverdoubted@protonmail.com). By accessing this story, the reader hereby certifies that he/she is of an appropriate age to access adult material and that such material is permitted in the locality or country where the reader resides. The following is a creative work of fiction, and the characters or incidents described do not resemble any persons or events in the real world.

I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing!
~ND
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The Last Straw - Chapter 1

Did I ever tell you about the time my sister was forced to go on our family vacation completely naked? I don’t blame you for not believing me. I wouldn’t believe it myself if we didn’t have the scrapbook to prove it.

Before I tell you what happened that led to my sister’s embarrassing ordeal, I need to explain a few things about us. Like many families during that time period, ours was a blended family. My mom died in childbirth, something that used to be much more common back then, so I never knew her. Being a single father did not suit Frank very well. A practical man, he made the best of a tragic situation and set out to find a new woman to marry who could restore the traditional family structure he had hoped to build with my actual mother before she died.

Recently widowed herself (the army had a bad habit of making widows out of relatively new brides) Patricia Conyor fit the mold. She was still young, only twenty-three, and exceedingly attractive. But she already had two kids and was also pregnant with a third when her husband was killed in a training accident. No matter how pretty she was, single men weren’t exactly lining up to take on that much responsibility.

But that didn’t deter my father. He saw potential in Patricia as both a mother and wife. Patricia saw something in Frank, too, both as a reliable provider and staunch protector of her young family. So, although times were slowly changing, she willingly adopted the roll of traditional housewife; subjecting herself and her daughters to the unyielding, patriarchal authority he commanded in exchange for the stability he afforded them.

I think it was hardest for Mary Jane to adjust her new, stitched-together family and strict stepfather. Unlike me and her little sister, Mary Jane was old enough to retain a few, vague memories of her real father and the life she lost when he died, and Frank replaced him.

I was too young to know anything else. So Patricia, who raised me as her own, might as well have been my mother. My new sisters, both older, were similarly expected to call Frank “father” even though they kept their birth father’s last name of Conyor.

When the new baby came, complications during her birth prevented Patricia from ever being able to have children with Frank. But with little Cynthia Sue’s arrival, our house felt plenty stocked. And with four children under five years old, mom already had her hands full.

I will eventually tell you about all my stepsisters, but I want to start with Mary Jane and explain why she doesn’t use her full name. You see, her first foray into school was a little rocky. On her first day of kindergarten, a few cruel boys on the playground started teasing her about her name.

They began calling out taunts of “Plain Jane, Plain Jane!”. To an impressionable, young girl, being called unattractive is just about the worst thing that can happen to you. She should have taken it as a compliment. Boys don’t bother teasing the ugly girls. They’re only interested in the cute ones. But I guess she was too young to understand that. Mary Jane came home crying that day and, ever since then, insisted on going by just “Mary”.

Those kids were wrong, though. Mary Jane was anything but plain. And progressing through school, she only grew more and more beautiful. As she began puberty and her curves started to appear, the boys’ taunts were replaced with compliments in the hopes of scoring a date with the striking beauty.

Any boy in her school would have loved to take Mary Conyor out. But none of them could figure out how to get past her imposing stepfather and his impossibly strict dating policy. So, despite being unanimously considered a knockout Mary had still not been on a single date. One more reason to resent Frank. How does all this relate to my sister ending up on a family vacation without any clothes? I’m getting to that part. Trust me, if you stick with this story, it will be worth your time.

Anyway, that fateful summer, with four teenagers living under the same roof and bouncing off the walls, dad must have decided we needed a vacation. He did not seek consensus from the rest of us or form a vacation committee. It was his right as the family patriarch, you see? Why should he consult any of us? He simply announced it one day with orders to be ready to go the next. “Wheels up at o-seven-hundred”, he said, terms we all knew and understood. The car would be leaving at seven o’clock. Don’t be late!

Whatever plans Mary had for at least the next week went right out the window. She responded to his order to start packing with a defiant huff and an eye roll, before reluctantly mumbling, “yes, sir”. While my other sisters didn’t seem to chafe as much under Frank’s rules and discipline, Mary was successful in subverting them over to her rebellious cause on occasion. As they often did, they took the cue from their oldest sister, following suit with their own less than enthusiastic, slightly sarcastic, “yes, sir”, before heading off to their rooms to pack.

Growing up, mom hadn’t needed to work hard at keeping us in line even though she never spanked or disciplined me or my sisters for any wrong we committed. That’s because dad was hard enough on us to more than make up for her passivity in that regard. In his words, “corporal punishment makes Corporals – pampering makes pansies.”

And when it came to discipline, he subscribed to the philosophy of making the punishment fit the crime. One time, when I was about ten, I broke a window playing baseball too close to our closest neighbor’s house down the road from us. I had gone through a growth spurt and underestimated my own strength. Not only did he make me use my own allowance money to buy our neighbors a new window, but he also expected me to go install it myself under his supervision. That way, my mistake would at least yield some vocational knowledge.

But before we started, he made me crawl around and pick up all the broken shards of glass out from around their hedges. That was the type of punishment he metered out. He made sure you always learned your lesson and never made the same mistake twice. With cuts on my knees and bandages all over my fingers, I definitely learned my lesson that day.

I still have a couple scars on my hands and have been extra careful around windows my whole life! But I’ve also learned to evaluate and assess the risks in any given situation. Say what you will about my father, but you can’t argue his disciplinary tactics weren’t effective.

Having earned more than a few herself over the years, Mary had learned how far she could push things without inviting retaliation from our father. Pushing his buttons was a frequent, but also extremely dangerous activity of hers. One slip up and you could find yourself on the receiving end of a memorable lesson.

While the grumbling girls stayed inside and went about filling suitcases with whatever useless crap girls think they need for a road trip, the men of the house went out to get the car packed and ready. We would mostly stay in motels along the way. But when dad mentioned wanting to bring camping supplies, my boy scout training kicked in and I agreed. “Be Prepared”. Should our old, unreliable wagon break down, we didn’t want to find ourselves stranded in the middle of the wilderness without any means of survival. Plus, there should be more than a few suitable camping opportunities along our route, and camping is free, while motels tend to charge for their accommodations.

Transporting six passengers didn’t leave much inside storage room, even inside our cavernous station wagon. So, most of our energy was directed toward efficiently organizing everything on the roof rack and making sure it was all secured. Toiling in the hot sun all afternoon soured dad’s mood. He sent me in to pack and I returned shortly with everything I thought I would need. He didn’t like that, by nightfall, since the girls’ suitcases still weren’t ready, he had to leave several empty spots on the rack for them.

I don’t think it’s fair to say it’s all my fault that Mary didn’t get to bring her suitcase, or any clothes, on our vacation. Ok, maybe I deserve a little bit of the blame. I won’t deny my minor role in her final, most critical mistake. But neither will I take responsibility for all the defiant things she did leading up to it. After all, if she hadn’t been testing the limits of our father’s authority so much lately, she might have been able to escape such a severe penalty. One thing she should have learned about living with Sargeant Frank Askis. You don’t want to see what happens when he reaches his last straw with you.

While Mary continued to drag her feet, my other sisters got around bright and early and came to the car with plenty of time to spare. They seemed to have come around on the idea of a vacation. Stuck at home all summer, I think we were all looking forward to a change of scenery. Outnumbered three to one by a bunch of cackling, teenage girls, I certainly was! This trip had the potential to turn my whole summer around. How was I supposed to know it would turn my whole life around?

Bea and Cindy settled into the back-back seat, the one that faces backward. Believe it or not, lots of station wagons used to have a full, backward facing seat in the back. Look it up if you don’t believe me. I was assigned the middle bench seat next to Mary – if she ever got around to arriving – but was currently helping dad lash down the suitcases.

Grumbling first to himself, then to me, he said, “it’s almost time to go. Where the Hell is she? Junior, go get your sister and tell her we’re ready to leave. Grab her suitcase too. It’s the last one.”

It was like Mary to squeeze out every last second before bowing to Frank’s orders and coming to the car.

“Yes, sir!” I called out, immediately jumping down from the roof. Jogging into the house I headed straight for her room. As the oldest girl, she got her own bedroom while Bea and Cynthia had to share one. Mary made it very clear that I was not allowed inside. Who knows what secrets she was hiding in there?

Normally, I would honor her wishes. But today, I had orders from dad which superseded her standing ones to keep out. Hustling down the hall, I was caught off-guard to see her door wide open and no one inside. Peeking into her room, I saw that she had laid out a travel outfit on her bed. Across the hall, a light shone from under the bathroom door. The proper thing would have been to simply knock on it to warn her about dad’s foul mood and remind her not to be late. If not for the partially packed suitcase sitting open on her bed, I would have done exactly that.

More than the suitcase, I was drawn to the mound of stark, white articles of clothing neatly stacked inside it and peeking out the top. I’m pretty sure coming across her underwear was high on the list of reasons Mary didn’t want her pubescent stepbrother snooping around in her room. And I suppose her concerns might have had some validity because my rational brain shut off in that moment as my horny, teenage boy brain took control. It’s not that I was some major creep or anything. I had just never got chances like this to interact directly with bras or panties. Such things were supreme mysteries to me at that age, and I was extremely curious.

Temporarily forgetting my assignment, I walked across the room and picked up Mary’s bra. Holding it aloft, I stared in awe at its fascinating shape. Mary’s body was nicely proportioned all over, but her chest was especially well endowed for a young lady of only seventeen. Her substantial bra reflected that fact. It was…sturdy. Purposely built to accommodate such a healthy physique.

I felt like time had stood still and I was holding a mystical artifact of great power. I could feel heat rising around my neck as my heart beat faster. Releasing one of the straps, I instinctively cradled one of the soft, round cups. It was bigger than my hand, and not by a little bit! I gave it a squeeze, trying to imagine what it would feel like if there were a real girl’s breast inside. I was in Heaven!

Still driven by curiosity, I leaned over the suitcase seeking more treasures. Dropping her bra, I pulled out a pair of her panties. They were nothing extraordinary, just plain, white panties sensibly cut to protect a modest young woman’s privates. But the fabric was extra soft – like silk, but not quite – and much thinner than most articles. I don’t know why I’m bothering to describe Mary’s panties to you – or her bra, for that matter. It’s not like either of them appear at all in the rest of this story. This is about a naked summer vacation in case you forgot.

Her panties weren’t completely transparent or anything, but I marveled when I held them up that I could see the light from her overhead fixture shining through. Before I knew it, I was doing with it the same thing I had done with her bra. My trembling fingers slid down the front to where the delicate fabric narrowed into a crotch. My mind raced thinking about how much time this exact stretch of cloth had spent nestled warmly between her beautiful, teenage thighs, cradling her most intimate area…

Time restarted just then with a familiar, shuddering “cachunk”. Our old water pipes were not subtle. You could hear them throughout the whole house whenever someone flushed a toilet or turned on a spigot. I fled the scene, terrified that my older sister was about to charge into her bedroom and catch me fondling her unmentionables.

Eager to distance myself from my snooping misdeeds, I hustled back up the hall. I do remember one thought crossing my mind. With everyone else already in the car waiting and time running short, Mary sure was cutting it close to be starting her shower now.

Only when I was charging through the front door did I notice that I was still holding her panties! Blushing, I quickly stuffed them into my pocket before anyone else saw.

“Francis, where’s the suitcase?” my dad demanded as soon as I appeared. The car was fully packed and loaded, parked at the end of the driveway, and facing the street. Mary and I were the only things keeping us from leaving. Since dad had sent me in to retrieve her suitcase, I felt suddenly embarrassed to be returning empty-handed. The obvious boner in my shorts wasn’t helping me maintain my composure. I scrambled for any excuse that would take the heat off me.

“It-it’s not packed yet.”

“NOT PACKED!” he roared.

Arriving to the car and standing at attention, I glanced over to see my other sisters, who had been chatting quietly with each other, peering anxiously at us through the back window. Withering under his steely gaze, I wished I could trade places with them just then. You might be wondering, from the way he was reacting, if that moment was the last straw. But if he was yelling at you, you usually still had a chance. When he got real quiet, that’s when it was time to start worrying.

Checking his watch tempered his wrath a bit. He could tell Mary was somehow making a small protest out of delaying as long as possible. But since it wasn’t quite seven o’clock, technically, he could not yet accuse her of being insubordinate.

“Well, it’s almost time. Where the Hell is your sister?” he asked me, as if somehow her absence was my fault.

Flustered, I blurted out the truth, “she just got in the shower.”

I watched his face turn increasingly darker shades of red. When he finally spoke, it was through clenched teeth in almost a whisper.

“Get in the car.”

I’ve never been more relieved to be dismissed. A little too eagerly, I barked out, “yes, sir,” before scrambling into the car and slamming the door behind me. He had got real quiet. Time to start worrying. I felt like I had just dodged a bullet. But perhaps it’s more accurate to say I had just handed a load gun to a sharpshooter, poured itching powder all over his trigger finger, and put my sister directly in the crosshairs to save my own hide.

We were definitely approaching “last straw” territory now. But it was entirely within Mary’s power to diffuse the situation. If she had any sense, she would show up in the next couple minutes. If not, God help her.

Dad stood at ease and stared at the house, glancing down to check his watch every few seconds. Unaware of exactly how serious the situation developing outside was, the girls resumed talking to each other. But I sat in complete silence. I knew, if the clock struck seven, Mary would be in serious trouble. But it would be a lie to pretend I had the slightest clue the kind of extreme punishment dad was about to conjure up for her.

I suppose it makes sense in some twisted way. He had put no restrictions on whatever the girls wanted to bring on the trip. His only requirement was that they get it to the car in time to leave. If Mary’s things weren’t ready, why should that stop us from leaving as planned?

Checking the little analog clock on the dash, I saw when the time hit seven and winced. Still no Mary. I just knew dad had to be seething by now. He wasn’t known for leniency, but had decided to give her until seven-o-one. If Mary had come running through the door breathlessly dragging her suitcase within that minute, I suspect she still could have avoided serious consequences.

Unfortunately, she spent that minute showering, blissfully, or perhaps foolishly, unaware of the time. A courtesy knock from her stepbrother would have saved the day. Too bad he got distracted by her panties and bra. I didn’t have to check the clock to know when that last minute had elapsed. Like an angry bull released from its cage, dad charged forward, heading straight for the house.

For a moment, other than the sound of my sisters talking and the idling car engine, everything was calm. I wiped my brow. Despite the early hour, the summer sun was already shining brightly, and the air was already starting to warm. The air conditioner would work better once the car got moving.

Then, Beatrice gasped audibly, and Cynthia let out a distressed squeal. Since their seat faced the back window, they had a clear view of dad dragging a stunned Mary, buck naked and still dripping wet, out of the house and toward the car by her upper arm.

My first taste of the commotion came via the sideview mirror. I don’t know how, but all men have developed the same innate ability to detect when there is a naked female around. Unfortunately, it had only been an instant, a glimpse out of the corner of my eye and not enough to really see anything. I leaned forward, turning my focus fully onto the mirror in the hopes of seeing more, but it was already gone.

Just then, the door opened, and my father shoved my sister into the car behind me. I turned in my seat and my mouth fell open. Even though she had already curled up into a tight ball, there was no hiding the obvious fact that she was completely naked.

Stomping around the hood, dad climbed into the driver’s seat and slammed the accelerator. My last thought, as we pulled out of our driveway to begin our long, summer road trip, was about Mary’s suitcase, which was apparently still sitting on her bed right next to the outfit she had laid out to wear today. I guess that wasn’t happening anymore.

[Azrael]

You are an excellent writer. I am definitely looking forward to more of this story.

[retroerotica]

Wow! This new story is amazing @neverdoubted? How much of this do you have already written or planned out? Waiting for more

[jojo12026]

Hot damn! ND starts another classic! More, more, more please

[Freesub]

Holy shit, what a start! Do you plan these out in advance or just write them as they come to you?
I can't wait to see where this goes!

[student]

The story itself is captivating. Almost as fascinating is "how resistant to mission creep is The Last Straw?" Limited to a single road trip, The Last Straw does have potential for expansion--will the wicked stepsisters step on Father's last nerve and join Mary Jane? Potential isn't actuality--but how much teasing will Father tolerate before taking away their clothes, too? There is an endpoint--when everybody returns home.

How long a vacation? I'm thinking ten days--but it could be 72 hours or six weeks. The narrator wasn't clear on that "long road trip" duration.

[apolloman42]

A really great first chapter! The set up is great! I really hope you plan on posting more of this story!
I've road in one those types of station wagons before, it's pretty weird facing backwards like that on the road.

Can't wait for more!

[student]

There is an opportunity for Sargent Frank Askis to lecture naked Mary on the sins of missing a convoy SP time! (Start Point, the time and place where the first vehicle in a military convoy rolls out). Mary's hair is wet and stringy, she didn't have a chance to otherwise make herself presentable. Will this lead to Mary sporting a high and tight? What else will be shaved? Was she grooming her hairy legs, too, but only had time for one leg?

I don't want to cause mission creep, but how will the public react to Mary's lack of attire? Will Mother be chastised for suggesting that perhaps missing an SP time isn't the end of the world...

[neverdoubted]

Holy shit, what a start! Do you plan these out in advance or just write them as they come to you?
I can't wait to see where this goes!

Before I start writing, I think through every one of my story ideas to make sure they have a purpose and are coherently constituted. That's not to say my writing process doesn't involve a fair share of detours and adjustments along the way. I have discarded entire chapters because I wasn't satisfied with the way they supported the overarching plot.

The Last Straw has been stuck in my head for a while. When that happens, I know I better write it down before I go crazy. Unfortunately, I don't know how much attention I will be able to give it. Writing is a time-consuming, and therefore expensive, hobby. But just like Caroline is Confused, I wanted to share a few chapters to see if anyone else is as intrigued by this story as I have been.

Please allow me a moment of shameless self-promotion. I currently have sixteen stories in various stages of progress (with one more idea coming soon). I doubt many people would wants me to put Dare Me on hold or delay Thornwood to continue this story. But for those interested in knowing (and influencing) what I plan to write in the future, you can see them all on my website. Everyone can vote for free in the monthly self-funding poll. Or, if you would like, consider making a donation toward a specific story which will ensure it receives top priority and actually gets finished and posted next.

I should note that, while some of those stories explore themes outside the genre of this board, they are all generally ENF/CMNF stories at their core with other themes generally listed in the synopsis. And they are all spectacular! If anyone enjoys my writing style, I would love for you to check it out (neverdoubted.icu).

[jojo12026]

The story itself is captivating. Almost as fascinating is "how resistant to mission creep is The Last Straw?" Limited to a single road trip, The Last Straw does have potential for expansion--will the wicked stepsisters step on Father's last nerve and join Mary Jane? Potential isn't actuality--but how much teasing will Father tolerate before taking away their clothes, too? There is an endpoint--when everybody returns home.

How long a vacation? I'm thinking ten days--but it could be 72 hours or six weeks. The narrator wasn't clear on that "long road trip" duration.

Think about The New Rules....It's currently 45 chapters and hasn't even been a week in story.......so duration of the trip is no concern, I don't think at this point. It took 2 chapters just to leave the driveway in this story.....lol