Themarble wrote: ↑Thu Aug 29, 2024 12:14 pm
So I don't think that story has been written yet and remains but an idea. Thornwood was written in 2011 so most of it is already completed but it's nice to see ND touch up the story and post it all in one place. I can't wait to see what the book cover will look like.
If you want to read prairie settlers you will have to vote for it.
So in summary, you can just read thornwood straight away with nothing else, when the other bystander stories come out I imagine the biggest connection between the stories will be bystander himself. Or an odd mention or two of some other characters. Depends how famous Rachel becomes world wide.
Oh that's excellent news, thank you! It looked like the Prairie Settlers came first was a sort of prologue that you had to read first haha. I'll certainly check the Thornwood story very soon.
That Glowsticks story also has captured my attention
I have to say, and am enthused to read that when it releases.
When I happily reported that our trip to the hardware store could go ahead as planned, Mary said nothing and mostly just stared back at me with a mixture between dread and terror. Since it meant she would be taking a nude walk through the middle of a strange town, I suppose I can forgive her for not summoning the same level of enthusiasm at hearing the news.
Exiting the car, I rounded the hood and stepped over the curb. When she didn't join me right away, I loitered patiently on the sidewalk. I was in no hurry. Frank had given us an hour which was more than enough time to reach the hardware store and do a little shopping. The longer she stalled, the less time she would get to wear my jacket.
I watched her improvise a comb and try to fix her hair with her fingers. Then she wiped her cheeks with the heel of her hand. I didn't know why she was bothering to make herself more presentable. She would be making an impression, all right! But the people we encountered wouldn't be looking at her face or hair. I suppose such habits of vanity were hard to break.
When she had finished combing her hair, she turned her head to look anxiously out the back window. I guessed she was trying to get a headcount of how many townspeople were about to witness her impending exposure. She was lucky on that account. It being mid-afternoon on a hot, summer day, most folks had completed whatever business had brought them downtown and gone home or retreated indoors until the day got cooler. Today being a weekday also worked in her favor. If we had been there on a Saturday, the square would have been busier.
Those favorable conditions were apparently not enough to convince her to leave the relative safety of our car. When she turned back around, I saw her lips moving, though I couldn't hear her through the closed window. Was she praying? Giving herself a pep talk? Or was she trying to talk herself out of this embarrassing excursion? She could be babbling nonsense for all I knew.
It was only her second day of the trip, and she was nowhere near being used to doing things without her clothes. But her bladder didn't care how fragile and vulnerable she was feeling or if she had gathered enough courage to show off her naked body in public again. In time, it would make the decision for her and demand the squirming girl get on with it.
My wait also let me survey the area and plan our route. The hardware store was almost directly across the square from the diner. But the grounds in between were blocked off. Because the large building in the middle, which was older than any of the others around the perimeter, looked to be under some sort of renovation or demolition, we would have to go left or right to avoid the construction site. By my estimation, turning left and going clockwise around the square was shorter. But since it would obviously be more embarrassing for Mary to go the long way around, I immediately marked left off my list and decided we would go right.
Having to eventually accept that the coast was never going to be completely clear, the naked girl reluctantly swung her door open and stepped out. I had forgotten how different she looked standing upright compared to being seated. I enjoyed seeing the sexy, sculpted curves of her strong legs once again and was practically blinded by the sheer volume of tender, bare skin she was flashing. There's no way every man and boy in town didn't instinctively turn his head in her direction when Mary cleared the car and came out into the open.
When she reached me, I noticed her whole body shivering. Even without a covering, there's no way she could be cold in this heat. Her nervousness had to be off the charts and bubbling over in the form of jittery muscles.
My first instinct was to check her nipples to measure their current state of plumpness. But sadly, she was cradling one of her tips in her right hand and using her draped arm to block the other one. Her valiant effort to keep them safe from prying eyes told me that she valued the privacy of her nipples more than almost anywhere else on her body.
Thanks to our recent car ride, I was one of the few people in the world who knew what they looked like. Even though I could now picture what she was hiding behind her arm, using my imagination wasn't nearly as satisfying as the real thing. Already accustomed to seeing them whenever I wanted, the absence of her perky, pink treasures from my sight did leave me with a peculiar sense of yearning.
Her left arm had an equally difficult, and possibly even more important task. Where panties and a skirt would normally work in concert to keep her lower half safely covered, a single, dainty hand was all she had left to preserve her modesty down there. An open palm was strategically centered between her rounded hips to guard the place where her legs met. Notably, she was also keeping her wrist at an intentional angle to fully cover the adorable, fuzzy heart that I knew was secretly growing on her abdomen.
A few people inside the diner were noticing the naked girl and starting to gawk. To avoid causing a scene that might lead to unwanted attention from the town's peacekeepers, I turned to my right and started walking briskly down the sidewalk. I didn't consult Mary to see if she was ready. Neither did I check if she was following me. Not only did she need my jacket, but she also wouldn’t want to lose track of the only familiar face around. Just as I predicted, after a surprised yelp, she scrambled to catch up with me.
Feeling her presence right behind me and about a half step to one side, I could tell she was using my body as a visual shield. But I didn't mind. It’s not like it was any substitute for actual clothes. Glancing back, I could also tell she was trying extra hard not to focus on anything except huddling close to my back and matching me stride for stride. Afraid to even look up and see where we were going for fear of meeting someone face to face, she chose to keep her head down and completely trust in my supervision and direction.
The sidewalk took us beyond the edge of the diner and past a bank property with a small, but well-manicured lawn out front. Because of our quick, efficient pace, we reached the first corner in good time. Only as we were crossing the intersection to head down the next street, did it occur to me to slow down. Mary's sense of urgency and desire to make this walk end as quickly as possible was feeding my own anxiety. I had to remind myself that I wasn't the naked one and was in no hurry. Feeling my pace slow, Mary let out a pitiful whimper, but had no choice but to slow hers to match.
The single building running the length of this street had been divided into distinct storefronts. At a small shoe repair store, I came to an abrupt halt. I didn't need to stop. I just wanted to see how she would react to me doing a little window shopping.
Facing the window, I saw a man bent over a workstation inside. He was using a tool that looked kind of like a screwdriver to punch holes in a piece of leather. It was kind of neat watching him work, but my distressed stepsister apparently disagreed.
Mary had also come to a stop but was voicing her protest at the delay with a high-pitched whine. In the large window's reflection, I could see her nude form shuffling impatiently behind me. She kept stepping back and forth between her bare feet as if the sidewalk was too hot to stand still on. But it couldn't possibly have been as hot as the black asphalt of the parking lot back at the cave. She did also somewhat resemble a little girl who needed to use the restroom and couldn't wait much longer. But noticing movement further back in the reflection, I shifted my focus and saw the real reason for her impatient dance. Mary had attracted an audience!
So far, other than a few people in the diner, I had incorrectly assumed that her naked parade around the square had escaped public notice. But two boys on bicycles had caught sight of the beautiful, naked siren and come over to get a closer look. It wasn't something I would typically pay much attention to. But forced into hypervigilance by her vulnerable state, Mary must have been watching their approach with increasing distress.
They looked slightly younger than me, but old enough to recognize what a special treat Mary's teenage body was affording them. They pulled up to a stop in the street behind us and came no closer; something convincing them to keep their distance. I did not view them as a threat and saw no harm in their presence. With two extra pairs of eyes locked onto her naked backside, I'm not sure Mary would agree with my assessment of the situation.
When we started walking again, the boys paced us from the street. I envied their view of her long, enticing legs and bare bottom flexing and working to ambulate the rest of her forward. With no other hands available, she couldn't stop them from looking at her rear. She did not acknowledge them either, but their presence was causing her to breathe more raggedly. Just what I needed, more blubbering.
We approached a unit with an improvised sign in the window that read, "City Clerk". With their regular facilities undergoing construction, it made sense for some of the government offices to find temporary accommodations around the square. As we neared the door, Mary sucked in her breath and her whole body tensed like a runaway car was about to hit us. Her preservation instinct forcing her to remain aware of every threat to her modesty, she had noticed the man inside the office heading for the exit long before I did.
A man in a business suit, who I assumed was the city clerk, flipped a switch to turn the interior lights off and emerged onto the sidewalk holding a set of keys. It was a little early yet to be locking up for the day. But I guess no one needed his clerking services on a lazy afternoon this late in the week.
He wasn't wearing an officer's uniform or badge and didn't appear to be associated with the police. But being a city official did make him a person of some authority, and I was nervous about his reaction to seeing a nude girl in his town. So far, her naked appearance had garnered a wide variety of reactions. You never know how someone is going to react to unexpectedly seeing a pretty, naked girl in a public setting.
Initially startled, his eyes bulged in disbelief as they made several trips up and down her unprotected body. Then, seeming to accept his good fortune, his whole face lit up and a smile formed on his face. Twisting the door lock and extracting his key, he eagerly proceeded to formal introductions.
"Hello, young man. I don't believe I have seen you around here before. Name's Harold." He put an extra emphasis on the word "seen", and his eyes darted over at the trembling girl who appeared to be trying to turn invisible beside me.
Harold did not come across as the type to be offended by or suspicious of a pretty girl's unclothed appearance. On the contrary. He seemed delighted by his good fortune. Thus far, his reaction was the most common one that men had to being in the presence of an attractive, nude woman.
"Frank. Nice to meet you," I replied, shaking his hand and offering my own casual salutations, "we're just passing through. Stopped for lunch."
Sticking out his hand toward Mary, he said, "and whom do I have the pleasure of meeting?"
Mary's face went white. Not about to sacrifice another inch of her modesty just to shake this man's hand, she recoiled from his offered handshake and looked over at me in terror. I did not step in right away to break the stalemate. I didn't mean to antagonize her. I was just having a little fun. Letting her squirm just a bit longer, I finally answered on her behalf. "That's Mary," I said, barely masking the amusement in my voice, "she has a condition."
He nodded knowingly, as if that totally explained and excused her missing clothes.
"Well, miss Mary, it is truly an honor to make your acquaintance," he said, giving up on the handshake and tipping his hat instead. Then, needing to discuss some business, man to man, he turned his attention back to me.
"Say, I was just headed to the Lodge to get it ready for tonight's gathering. If you'd like to join us as my honored guest, we could share some stories about our humble town. I'm sure you and Mary would be a big hit with the other Masons." At that, he gave her a knowing wink which made her eyes go even wider.
Nodding in the direction we had come from, he added, "It's not far, just there around the corner. What do you say, Frank? Care to join us for drinks and cigars?"
I wasn't allowed to smoke cigars and was pretty sure the drinks he was talking about were not the kind you would find at a soda fountain. And even though he addressed the invitation to me, I knew who the real honored guest would be. My gorgeous, naked stepsister would surely be the star attraction of any such gathering.
When I politely declined his offer, Mary let out a jittery sigh of relief. Herbert expressed his regrets, but said he understood. "Maybe next time," he called out. As we parted to walk in different directions, I caught him craning his neck to look back and get one last, good look at Mary from that angle. He certainly had a great story to tell once the rest of the guys arrived at the Lodge. Whether they would believe it really happened is up for debate.
With the two boys back to pacing us on their bicycles, we reached the end of the block and crossed the intersection for our final leg. Leading this naked, helpless girl around like we were connected with an invisible cord, I felt a heady sense of power wash over me. Having never tasted authority of any kind before, much less over another person, I was starting to understand what my father found so appealing about being the one in charge all the time.
Our destination was just a couple stores down by now. Mary had a chance to make it to the entrance without further incident. But her luck ran out when a nearby door opened and a short, middle-aged woman stepped outside. Even worse, the woman was not alone. One by one, children streamed out behind her.
They kept coming until there were seven standing on the sidewalk beside their mother. Each one had a similar, jaw-dropping reaction to seeing Mary. There were five boys and two girls; not an especially large size for a family back then. The youngest was no older than five, but the two oldest, both boys, were teenagers and looked every bit as old as me!
Seeming to recognize the woman, the boys on the bikes chose that moment to make themselves scarce. Walking toward us with a scowl, her already stern face turned even harsher. It's like her ire was rising with every step closer. When she got beside Mary, she could no longer hold it in and spat out, "Harlot!"
Mary flinched at the insult. But she was more alarmed by the two teenage boys about her age closing in on her position with spreading smiles and growing bulges in their pants. The closer they came, the more tightly she pressed her hands over her hearts like she was performing the world's sexiest and most ardent pledge of allegiance.
It made me wish all schools would adopt this method for young ladies to exhibit their patriotism. All girls should be required to stand, take off all their clothes, and place their hands over both their hearts when doing the pledge. That is, assuming all girls had two hearts to cross. Without another naked girl to compare to, I still had no way to prove my naturally grown heart theory. And research subjects weren't exactly lining up to volunteer more data.
Unsatisfied by my stepsister's muted response to her accusation, the woman spun toward her and launched into a vitriolic rant. "I don't know who you think you are or where you're from, Jezebel. But have you no shame?"
Everything about Mary, from her wilting body language to the powerful blush on her face to the way she meekly cradled her privates, was dripping with shame. I don't know how this woman could possibly have the nerve to accuse her of having no shame just because she wasn't wearing any clothes.
From the looks on the boys' faces, I could tell exactly what they were thinking as their eyes roamed all over the bashful young lady. I wanted to scream out, "if you think this is neat, you should see her nipples!". But something told me their mother would not take kindly to such an inappropriate exclamation.
Flinching at every word this angry woman lobbed at her, Mary looked over at me helplessly. Three years my elder, she had always seemed so composed and self-sufficient. But then again, she wasn't usually on the receiving end of so many scathing remarks.
The attention and platitudes she was used to hearing from strangers were typically so much more uplifting and affirming. "My, what a lovely young lady you are!" "You have such a beautiful face." "My daughter just loves your hair." "Your parents must be so proud!"
But ever since the start of her nude vacation, she had only received two types of attention - both unwanted. If it wasn't a perverted clerk inviting her back to the Lodge to be the main attraction for a bunch of leering old men, it was an angry matron verbally flogging her in front of her snickering children for defiling the public square with her wanton display.
Unfortunately for Mary, both types of encounters were proving to be incredibly humiliating in their own way. I couldn't tell which was worse - probably the latter because it was still happening to her.
Because along with her clothes, the poor girl had misplaced her voice, I saw it was up to me to come to her defense. And because the woman was so wound up, I would have to interrupt rather than wait for an opening.
"If you think you're going to walk around in public, corrupting the fine families of our town," she said, "you have another thing coming, hussy. You can take your vile, degenerate-"
"SHE HAS A CONDITION!" I blurted out, stepping forward and puffing out my chest to form as domineering a presence as possible.
The mother stopped mid-sentence, turned toward me, as if noticing me for the first time, and sized me up for several tense seconds. I didn't exactly tower over the diminutive woman, but by standing tall, I was just able to exceed her in height. My authority over this situation was purely manufactured - a bluff.
With my heart pounding, I tried to match her level of incense about this unwanted encounter. Having formerly convinced others to leave the naked girl alone with a similar display of false confidence, I could only hope my unwavering stance and certitude would be sufficient. Needing to act like my stepsister was being falsely accused of something she couldn't control, I held my ground and defied the woman to challenge the authority of a confident man, even a very young one.
After a few seconds, she let out a "Humph!". Then, sticking her nose in the air, she sidestepped us and started walking away. She didn't have to tell her well-disciplined children to follow. They fell in line behind her like ducklings. But the boys did all turn their heads once they were past Mary to take in the rare sight of a teenage girl's healthy, developing, naked bottom.
Having earned it with her nude walk, I did not hesitate to turn over my jacket as soon as we were inside the hardware store. Gratefully snatching it from my hand, Mary found the zipper still stuck in an almost completely unzipped state and had to duck behind some shelving for privacy to get dressed. Lowering it down over her head just as a man approached us, she narrowly evaded the third embarrassing encounter of her walk.
The man introduced himself as the proprietor of the store and asked us if we needed help with anything. If he was surprised by Mary's long, bare legs sticking out the bottom of her jacket or her lack of shoes, he did not comment on it. She was still trembling but had been able to recover some of her wits now that she had some clothing to depend on. Finding her voice, she anxiously asked about the restroom.
"Back of the store, ma'am," the helpful worker replied, "right next to the plumbing supplies. You can't miss-"
Driven frantic by her bladder, Mary nodded and took off - following his directions before he had even finished giving them.
Smirking, I made my way to the back of the store at a more leisurely pace. She emerged looking more at ease, but only a little. Taking my own turn in the restroom, I saw I wouldn't not have to search or worry about losing track of her. Too insecure to wander off alone, even with the added protection of my jacket, she was waiting right there. And as I walked the aisles, perusing the merchandise, she never strayed too far from me.
Sadly, they didn't sell cameras. But the knowledgeable proprietor did have some good zipper insight. It turns out that, due to the specialized machinery used to produce them, zippers are not easy to repair. He said I could try to straighten the teeth with some pliers. but most likely, the weakened spot would always be problematic. Seeing I would probably have to cut it out of the garment completely and start over, I heeded his advice and picked up a whole new assembly.
Watching the clock, I waited until our hour was nearly up to make my final selections. A compact, army surplus sewing kit caught my eye. I had read in Boys Life magazine about a kid who figured out how to turn old jeans pockets into denim billfolds. He had made a business out of selling them and earned enough money to buy his own motorcycle! Hoping to follow his instructions and maybe strike it rich, I had packed some jean shorts - an older pair that I had outgrown - to experiment with on this trip. With this sewing kit, I wouldn't have to use my pocketknife to cut the fabric. Plus, I could stitch up any mistakes I made along the way. It did cost around twice what my father had given me to repair my jacket, so I had to dip into my personal savings. But I felt like it was a good investment.
Completing my purchases, I made my way to the front of the store. Mary begrudgingly followed. But when she got within a couple aisles of the front door, her progress stalled.
With a sigh, I circled back to where she had halted. "Come on, we don’t want to be late. We have to keep going," I said, pressing my hand in the small of her back to prod her along. But she only pushed back against my hand just as hard. Trying to move her toward the exit was like pressing two magnets together that were oriented in the wrong direction.
With growing impatience, I tugged at the jacket to signal that the time had come for her to return it. That was a mistake. "Stop!" she yipped, shaking her head vigorously and brushing my hand away. With ragged breaths, she backed warily away from me - hugging her body and gripping the jacket in two, possessive fists.
I raised my open palms in a calming gesture and gave the frightened creature some space. Annoyed that she wasn't as concerned about staying on schedule as I was, I walked to the front window to figure out how to motivate her to get moving again. The hardware store had given her a chance to feel normal again for a little while. That hard to be a hard thing to give up. She had savored her time with my jacket and grown accustomed to being clothed again - perhaps a little too much, by my reckoning.
Thinking my family was still finishing up their meal and about to head to the car, I peered out across the square. But my heart skipped a beat when I located the empty parking spot where our car used to be. They had already come out. That meant we were already late!
Scanning left and right, I spotted our station wagon making its way around the square toward us. Since we hadn't returned on time as promised, Frank had come looking for us - though he wouldn't be happy about having to do so.
Trying to remain calm, I backed away from the window and approached my still panicking stepsister. I wracked my brain for the right words to use. Reaching her, I spoke with a soft, cooperative voice.
"The car's coming around to pick us up. You don't have to walk back across the square, ok? But I need my jacket back...like, now." A slightly firmer edge slipped into my voice there at the end.
She blinked a few times, and nodded, but made no actual effort to comply. But then, the car's horn honked outside. With a squeal, she retreated behind a shelf and reluctantly lifted my jacket over her head. The threat of further punishment from my father - should he catch her wearing clothes without permission - overpowered even her extreme resistance to stripping in public.
Handing over her only clothing, she adopted her trademark naked girl pose. I assumed we would hustle outside immediately to avoid keeping my father waiting. But as soon as I turned away and took a step toward the exit, she called out, "Wait!"
Holding back an impatient sigh, I turned back to hear her out. Her whole body was shaking visibly as she blubbered out her next words. "I-I can't do the car again. Please, not again."
I stopped tapping my toe and rushed to process her words. As bad as the walk back to the car would have been, she was dreading the ride itself just as much. Being forced to sit on her hands with her chest completely exposed was especially humiliating for a girl like her who had so many lovely assets worth protecting and had always taken her modesty for granted.
Being stuck on vacation without any clothes forced her to engage in a constant battle. Every second she spent naked drained her pool of dignity a little more. And with every drop of dignity she lost, utter humiliation flooded in and filled the void. She had summoned an admirable amount of fortitude thus far to keep up the fight against a nervous breakdown. But how much humiliation can a fragile, young lady endure before it breaks her? Even the strongest soldier needs a reprieve from time to time.
I had to remind myself that, until Frank officially ended her punishment, I was the only person who could help ease her burden. I had leverage. But holding power over any of my stepsisters was a new and foreign experience. I never before had anything they wanted or viewed as valuable...until now. This time, I was quicker to sense an opportunity to benefit from her predicament. I was getting better at this!
There was only one problem. What could possibly be worth me giving up watching my naked stepsister sit on her hands all afternoon? There was only one thing I could think to ask for on such short notice: money.
"Listen, it's been a long day and we're all kind of worn out. I'll make you a deal. If you give me your souvenir money, you can sit however you want for the rest of the day."
I was betting that she wouldn't be interested in shopping for trinkets and mementos - not without any clothes on - and therefore had no need for money.
When she accepted my offer in a flash, I regretted not asking for more. But what else can a naked girl with no material possessions possibly have to offer in trade? A whole lot, it turns out! Things infinitely more valuable than a few, measly dollars. But my stupid, uncreative, pea brain hadn't learned the trick to letting go of material limitations and letting your fantasies run wild. Not yet, at least!
Our deal fairly struck, we both ran out to the car.
"You're late," Frank growled as soon as I opened my door.
"Sorry about that, sir," I responded, "it was my fault. I lost track of the time."
I hoped that taking responsibility would buy me some leniency. My father sniffed, then said, "you're unloading the car solo tonight."
"Yes, sir!" I called back. As consequences went, it could have been worse. I would much rather serve this smaller punishment and wipe my slate clean than have infractions pile up and potentially lead to a more drastic correction.
I glanced over at Mary curled into a ball - the position she had temporarily bought with her souvenir money - then turned my head further to see Bea smiling wickedly at me.
"Be careful unloading our suitcases tonight," she warned with a mocking tone, "if you break anything, you’re paying to replace it." It delighted her to no end to see her stepbrother punished with such a menial task. I'm sure, in Bea's mind, my proper role in our family was somewhere around the level of a common bellboy. She was just going to love watching me do all the work when we got to the motel.
Mary will end up getting caught one of these times, not sure how worse her punishment can get but she will end up getting caught and we will just see what happens when she does get caught.
According to the road atlas, we had a long way to go before reaching our next overnight destination. With Mary curled up and hiding her most interesting bits, I had nothing good to look at and had to settle for looking for other beautiful hills and valleys out the window.
After a couple hours, we stopped at a roadside attraction that had a gift shop advertising collectibles and trinkets from local artists. On Frank's cue, Patricia retrieved a billfold from her purse and counted out five dollars to give each of us for souvenirs. It may not sound like much these days. But back then, money went a lot further.
When Mary immediately turned her money over to me, I could feel Bea's suspicious gaze watching the transfer. Bea couldn't prove Mary was giving up her money under duress. But she also knew her sister well enough to assume it wasn't out of the goodness of her heart. Watching yet another uncharacteristic transaction between her fellow siblings, all she could do was wonder and seethe.
Inside the store, I found precisely what I was looking for to start my budding photography hobby. It was a Kodak Instamatic camera kit complete with a satchel and two rolls of 126 film. Because the kit was nineteen dollars, I wouldn't have had enough without Mary's contribution. But combining it with the savings I had brought from my piggy bank, I could afford it. I even had enough left over to buy some beef jerky. That made my stomach happy.
Returning to the car, I didn't care to look too closely at what Bea picked out. But whatever it was, I'm sure Cynthia bought something very similar. She looked up to her older sisters and always wanted to be just like them.
As the afternoon sun crept across the sky, clouds started to form on the horizon. In the backseat, the girls fell asleep and Mary, emotionally exhausted from a long day of exhibiting her body and fighting for every scrap of modesty, soon joined them in la-la land.
To pass the time, I got out my new camera and fiddled with it. I considered snapping one picture of my naked stepsister curled up and snoozing in the seat beside me just to learn how it worked. But since film was expensive, I had to ration it and not be wasteful. I opted to wait until I could get Mary under better lighting and in a more revealing pose.
As we came to a mountain pass, the terrain grew steeper and the roads curvier. When it started to drizzle, Frank slowed down to nearly a crawl. That old station wagon steered like a yacht and did not like curves or slick roads. With trees and clouds blocking the setting sun, it grew darker, and fatigue eventually caught up to me.
When I awoke, it was completely dark. We hadn't made very good time, but we had made it through the pass and into a small town on the other side. Everyone woke up when we the pulled off the road and into the parking lot of the Gushing Gully Motel. This was to be our accommodation for the night.
After Frank checked us in and pulled the car around, Patricia and the girls ran through the rain into our room. As my punishment for being late at lunch, I had to stay behind and unpack the car in the rain. With my stomach back to rumbling, the chore was made even more miserable.
Because we had lost so much time through the pass, Frank had decided to skip our evening meal stop. To his military mind, a missed meal was a trivial matter. Soldiers were expected to have mastery over their stomach. If that were true, I wasn't a very good soldier. I was starving!
Luckily, Patricia was there to be the voice of reason. As the matriarch of the family, providing meals was one of the few areas where she could pull rank on her husband. Unwilling to make her children go to bed hungry, she insisted on ordering a pizza to be delivered to the motel.
Tired, hungry and soaked through with rainwater, I trudged back and forth from the car until everyone had what they needed for the night. Because the pizza arrived just as I was finishing up, I took a very quick shower - just to dry off mostly - and changed into my pj's. When I came out of the bathroom, Bea was there to greet me with an overly friendly smile.
"Hey, Francis," she said, holding out two paper plates turned onto each other like a UFO, "The pizza went fast. But don't worry, I saved you some."
Cautiously, I took her offering and lifted the upper plate to find the puniest little slice of pepperoni pizza you could imagine. It looked about as tasty as the cardboard it had been placed on. From her malicious grin, I could tell Bea had intentionally picked out the smallest slice for me. I wanted to call her out for foul play, but I knew how my father would rule in any dispute over uneven distribution of rations. By nature of being the gentler sex, the womenfolk were afforded the choicest cuts. If I didn't like it, I could get up all the earlier for the breakfast buffet.
Devouring my slice in two bites, I yawned and started to unroll my sleeping bag, only to be approached by my stepsister once again. Beatrice was especially enjoying finding creative ways to bother me and boss me around this evening.
"You forgot to bring in the blue suitcase, Francis," she complained, emphasizing the name she knew I would be the most annoyed by. I rolled my eyes.
"I didn't forget to bring it," I explained, "there's nothing important in there." I had left it lashed to the top of the car on purpose because it didn't contain anything we would need overnight.
"There is too!" she insisted, "it's got my notebook. I wanted to do some journaling about our trip before bed."
"Aww, come on, Bea," I complained, "it's late and we're all tired. I'm already in my pj's. Just go to sleep."
"Do you want me to tell Frank that you didn't finish unpacking the car like you were supposed to?" she asked, crossing her arms and daring me to defy her.
Like my other stepsisters, Beatrice Rose was objectively a beautiful girl. While she did bear a familial resemblance to the other Conyor women, her lighter complexion and curly blonde hair - which was currently cut in a shorter style - helped her stand out from her equally striking sisters. She also had blue eyes where Mary and Cindy shared a similar shade of light brown irises.
Brushing her curls out of her face, Bea adopted a challenging, defiant stance. She was practically begging me to argue with her. Knowing my father would not rule in my favor in this particular dispute, I begrudgingly backed down and stood up.
"Ok, fine. I'll go get it."
While everyone else was settling in for the night and turning off lights, I had to put my shoes back on and trudge out to the parking lot. It was raining even harder now, and by the time I got the blue suitcase unlashed from the roof and hauled inside, I was soaked to the bone again. Using her bedside lamp, the only remaining light in the room, I dug around until I found Bea's writing notebook and handed it to her. She was already tucked comfortably into her bed - the same one she was sharing with Mary.
"Thank you, Francis," she said, taking the notebook out of my hand, "that will be all." Then she pulled it to herself like a child cradling a teddy bear and lowered her head back to her pillow - closing her eyes with a contented sigh. Ugh!
Shivering and dripping everywhere, I eyed my sleeping bag. As the two youngest, Cindy and I had to share the cramped floor space. She was already tucked into her bedroll, nice and warm.
Since I couldn't very well sleep in soaked pajamas, I grabbed my suitcase with another yawn and retreated to the bathroom. Stripping off all my wet clothes, I toweled myself off for the second time that evening, then began rummaging around in my suitcase for something else to sleep in.
Remembering that I hadn't brushed my teeth yet, I found my toothbrush and stepped over to the sink. Seeing my naked reflection in the mirror triggered a slight bashfulness reflex inside me. I had a decent physique, for fourteen, and had no reason to be especially self-conscious about my body. I had no qualms about taking my shirt off in public, for instance - even in the presence of members of the opposite sex. I must have looked pretty good in swim trunks, too. Whenever I was at a pool, I would occasionally catch girls looking in my direction. But I was still much too shy to approach any of them.
But even though there was no one else around right now to witness my growing body's best features, just standing in a strange bathroom completely naked did cause me to shudder slightly. If I had this kind of reaction while safely locked behind a bathroom door, I could only imagine what Mary must be feeling having to go out in public like this. In her totally nude state, she had been inundated with constant, unwanted attention. And most of the time, she only had her bare hands to count on for modesty.
I could never have endured the humiliation she had these past two days without suffering a nervous breakdown. In the face of such a trying ordeal, and with no end in sight, I had to give that girl credit for being stronger than she looked. As hard as it must have been for her, I, on the other hand, was getting to observe everything my naked stepsister did and having the time of my life because of it!
Thinking back over the many, erotic scenes I had recently born witness to, my attentive penis reported for duty and began to swell. As eager as I was to get to bed, I would sleep all the more soundly if I made the effort to relieve some of this excess arousal.
Rinsing out my mouth, I reached down and began to stroke myself. As a healthy, teenage boy, I had plenty of practice with self-gratification. And my ardor was pent-up from two days of traveling with no other opportunities to be alone. I could tell this was going to be a good one. But no sooner had I started than I was interrupted by a soft, but insistent, knock.
"Francis? Are you ok?" It was Bea calling through the thin door.
Dropping my penis in shame, I lunged toward the door as if she were about to charge through it. Then, remembering it was locked, I stood there nervously and tried to sound relaxed.
"Uh, yeah, I'm fine," I called back. My erection bobbed angrily in the air in front of me. "I was just...uh...taking a shower." It was the first thing that popped into my head.
"I thought you already took a shower. Why aren't you coming to bed?"
I scrambled to retrieve some clothes from my suitcase. Any clothes would do. It didn't have to be pajamas at this point. "Actually, I was just brushing my teeth. I don't know why I said 'shower'," I clarified.
"Well, hurry up. I need to use the restroom."
Throwing on the first clothes I came across, a pair of briefs and a cotton polo shirt, I tried to slow my breathing before opening the door.
"Took you long enough," she said dully.
In the glow from the bathroom, I saw my middle stepsister standing there dressed for bed in her nightclothes with her arms crossed expectantly. With thick fabric and a high collar, the gown was perfectly modest bordering on stodgy - not anything like the downright indecent one her sister had been given to wear to breakfast that morning.
Having just turned fifteen, Bea did not have the full figure of her older sister. Though she did already sport a respectable bust. That was one attribute Patricia seemed to have passed on to all her daughters. Holding my suitcase strategically over the bulge caused by my erection, I tried not to let my eyes linger too long on her prominent swells. But I couldn't stop myself from wondering if her nipples were as pretty and as talented as her sister's when exposed to the open air.
A recent growth spurt had stretched Bea's skinny limbs and torso so that she was now slightly taller than me. And with most of her feminine curves still playing catch-up, her body cut a sleek, almost lithe figure. But with her longer legs and torso, and her larger than average bust taking up more than its fair share of fabric, she was on the verge of outgrowing this particular nightgown. It now ended well above her knees. That was the only real skin she was showing.
Seeing the strange way I was dressed, she asked, "are you sure you weren't...doing something else in there?"
Her voice had dropped all pretense of concern and adopted a more mocking tone while she strained to look around my suitcase. Too embarrassed to reply, I just shook my head and brushed past her. Only the low light kept her from noticing my flushed face or the way I swallowed guiltily on my way to my sleeping bag.
It took me a while to calm down after that. Laying there, rock hard didn't help. But I couldn't risk taking care of myself with all three of my stepsisters within arm’s reach of me - not to mention my father and Patricia also right there in the same room. Like any horny, teenage boy, I had bodily needs. But I was used to having a little more privacy than this. Now that Bea suspected me of nocturnal misdeeds, she would be watching me like a hawk. I could predict that was going to be an ongoing problem for me on this trip. But one I couldn't really solve at the moment.
Giving up on addressing the dull, but still thrumming sensation in my underwear this night, I tried to turn my thoughts to tomorrow. Against all odds, Frank was showing no sign of relenting on Mary's nude punishment. That meant I might have more opportunities to have some fun with her - and for more trades. Now that I had taken all her money, I would have to get more creative with my trade requests. Maybe I could have her adopt a few poses so I could try out my new camera. No matter what happened, as long as she spent the day naked, I would have another happy vacation memory!
I tried to roll over only to find my still stiff erection pressing uncomfortably into the hard linoleum. Cindy had claimed the only patch of carpet to setup her sleeping bag. That left me in the least comfortable spot in the room. And worse, we were due to stay here two nights! Silently cursing Bea for interrupting my earlier masturbation effort, I rolled back over and stared at the unusually busy ceiling above me.
You may be surprised to learn that, as fancy as it may sound, the Gushing Gully Motel was far from a luxury accommodation. This room, for example, was irregularly shaped - like it wasn't originally meant to be a unit for rent. And the ceiling looked like a poorly trained architect had started remodeling it only to lose interest part way through.
Half the walls had been recently repainted, though the remaining ones were peeling badly, and there were wires sticking out where a ceiling fan was supposed to be; or might have once hung. Several exposed pipes and conduits ran in different directions overhead. Judging by the big, ugly stain where a shiny, metal pipe met the wall, I guessed it carried water. The insulation around the pipe was not in very good shape. It was slowly disintegrating and had been patched in several spots to keep the condensation from dripping onto the floor.
I was still resentful of the way Bea had been bossing me around and mistreating me all evening. Somebody really needed to put that girl in her place. As I lay there studying the pipe above me, an idea slowly formed of how I might get back at her in some small way. It was a pretty clever one, if you ask me. Since she was causing me to lose all this sleep, she deserved some of her own medicine. I would have to be careful, though, to make sure she didn't trace it back to me. Knowing there was still plenty of time to execute my newly formed scheme, I rolled over on my side and was finally able to be content. Sleep quickly followed.
Bea is getting pushy--from Frankie's POV. When will Bea get the idea that Mary is a traitor to the female of the species and do something to Mary? Bea must have been scandalized that Mary gave Frankie money--and didn't hesitate to get back at bellboy Frankie (where's the boy's tip?) and sending him out in the rain (will Bea steal Frankie's PJ's?) and shortchanging Frankie on the pizza (couldn't she get away with giving him NO pizza?). So far, little Cindy hasn't gone the extra mile to be a PITA (pain in the ass). Or Bea's actions might just be business as usual but viewed otherwise.
Next month will bring new things on the family vacation.
Thoroughly enjoyed the latest two chapters! I think you describe the sheer devastation and anxiety that Mary is experiencing better than any other writer. Mary's constantly on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and I feel that makes this story, or at leadt her situation so realistic.
Unfortunately it looks like you're setting up a situation where Bea is going to get stripped as well? Hopefully it's relatively brief and temporary, and if Mary is no longer the only one naked, it'd detract from her constant, severe embarrassment significantly imo.
Still, live this story and thanks for the new chapters!
******************************** with a commanding lead in the September poll, I have decided to post an extra chapter this month. ********************************
Before dawn, I awoke with a groan and tried to work circulation back into my aching joints. As uncomfortable as my night had been, as my father had taught me, soldiers never complain about their sleeping arrangements. "Just remember, it could always be worse."
Speaking of my father, from the empty spot in his bed, I saw that the perpetual early riser had already started his day. So far, he was the only one. Extremely hungry, and assuming he was down in the dining room breaking his fast, I decided to join him. But first, I needed to get dressed.
Standing up, I stepped quietly toward the bathroom to avoid waking any of the girls. Inside the bathroom, I flinched when I saw my wet pajamas in a heap in the corner. I had forgotten to take care of them last night. Now, it was too late to simply rinse them out and hang them up to dry. Until I could get them into a proper washing machine, they would continue to smell like mildew and stale rainwater.
Today, we were getting a taste of the old west by way of a scenic drive and a stop at real, authentic ghost town. Knowing our destination ahead of time did not really change my outfit selection. I had seen my share of western movies. But I didn't have any clothes that could come close to matching what the cowboys wore. Since I was already wearing one of my regular shirts and underwear, I only had to add khaki shorts and white socks to make an easy outfit. No one except Mary could compete with me on speed of getting dressed for the day. But that's only because she would be visiting the ghost town in the nude.
Tiptoeing to the front door, I put on my tennis shoes and slipped outside. It was still dark, but when I got to the dining room, as expected, I found my father sitting alone and reading the newspaper. The small, round table beside him held a lone cup of coffee, black.
"Good morning, sir," I greeted him cordially. When he responded with nothing more than a quiet grunt, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Taking a closer look, I saw a deep furrow in his brow. Had I done something wrong? Treading carefully, I didn't try to engage him in conversation. But since he didn't invite me to sit down, I could only remain standing awkwardly beside him while he continued to read the paper. Maybe the news was bad enough to put him in this mood? Or had I done something to land in his crosshairs?
A worker came in from the kitchen and started setting up the buffet area.
"I, uh, I think I'll go check on the food," I announced, backing away from where he sat. He barely acknowledged me - his head only making the slightest nod as he turned to read a different article.
I loitered around the buffet area until they started bringing out pans of food, then loaded up my first plate. Giving my perturbed father his space, I ate at my own table. Having eaten next to nothing all the previous day, I should have been ravenous. I choked down most of that first serving, but a new pit of guilt in my stomach made savoring any of it difficult, and I didn't bother going back for seconds.
Something about Frank's cold greeting made me fear that I was the source of his ire. When he gets quiet, that's when you should worry. But what could I have done to end up on his bad side? I had already served a punishment for returning late from lunch and had gone out of my way to keep the peace with Bea.
...did he suspect that I had been loaning Mary clothes behind his back? I had tried to be discrete and keep our trades clandestine. But Frank was very observant and didn't miss much. What if he was on the verge of figuring it out?
Tempering my expectations about today, I decided we would stick together as a family and demonstrate exemplary behavior right under his nose. I told myself that while it might not be as exciting as sneaking off on private adventures with Mary, at least there would still be a naked girl in our group to keep me entertained.
Having made up my mind, I got up and walked to the buffet to get a second serving of breakfast. But finding the pit in my stomach stubbornly refusing to go away, I had to pause and consider an even more dire possibility. What if he already knew much more than he was letting on?
If my father already knew about my unauthorized misdeeds, there was only one thing I could do. I had to confess immediately and throw myself upon his mercy. Sure, it could backfire spectacularly. But the greater risk to me was continuing to cover it up and letting the consequences of my transgressions build.
Putting my dishes away, I made myself walk back to his table. My feet grew heavier the closer I came. Condemning myself by admitting my misdeeds, I could only hope that he would give me credit for doing the right thing and spare me. Looking back, I'm so glad I made that choice.
"May I sit," I asked stiffly when I had reached him. His mouth tightened, but he nodded.
"I-I have a confession to make, sir," I said, pulling out the chair beside him and taking a seat. No point in beating around the bush. I was committed now. With a deep breath, I continued.
"I loaned Mary my jacket to wear while we were in the cave yesterday. She, uh, asked for it, so I offered her a trade. And I did it again in the hardware store. I know I shouldn't have done it without checking with you first. I was out of line and...I wanted to apologize for that."
Bracing, I waited for him to respond. But Frank said...nothing. He just turned the page and kept reading to himself. My heart was pounding. Finally, after an agonizing silence that was probably no more than half a minute, he barked something completely unexpected.
"Women!"
I blinked a few times, thinking I had misheard him. But he really had said it. His eyes never left the paper. But seemingly referring to the article, he launched into a soliloquy - the topic of which was apparently going to be: women.
"They march and yell and make demands. It doesn't matter how much you give in, it's never enough. They just come back again demanding more. They think they're so strong and liberated - able to think for themselves and make their own damn decisions, but who really pays for everything they have? Take it all away and they sure get helpless and weepy in a hurry," waiving his hand at another page, he added, “and guess who they'll come running to as soon as the commie reds show up on our doorstep."
I blinked again, too stunned to reply. Of all the things I guessed he might say in that moment, this rant hadn't made the list. He was angry, all right! But it didn't sound like he was angry at me. That was a good sign. When he spoke again, it was with a much calmer, more contemplative voice.
"Listen, Francis, it's no use trying to teach that girl a lesson. She's never had to work for anything. Too senseless to know she's done wrong...too stubborn or proud to apologize when she does figure it out...too pretty for her own good..."
Finally looking up from the paper, he added, "if you think you can make a lick of difference with her, by all means, go right ahead. You want to make trades, fine. Give her a whole damned wardrobe if you want. Just promise me one thing, son. You just make sure she pays dearly for every single stitch. Maybe then she'll finally learn what life is really like when everything you need and want aren't being handed to you on a silver platter. Dismissed."
Jumping to my feet, I automatically called out, "Yes sir!"
Leaving the breakfast area, I staggered as soon as I got outside and had to steady myself against the wall. That hadn't gone at all how I thought it would. never had to work for anything
Taking a few, unsteady steps in no particular direction, my mind was spinning trying to process what had just happened. too pretty for her own good
So...I wasn't in trouble? Wasn't even reprimanded? Give her a whole damned wardrobe if you want
Finding my footing, I took a few more steps. With a smile forming on my face, my pace, and my pulse quickened.
I came to our door, but not ready to stop yet, I just kept walking. The more I thought about what I had just heard, the better it sounded. Unless I was sorely mistaken, my father had just given me permission - no, a commission - to remind his wayward stepdaughter of what he would consider to be the natural order of things. teach that girl a lesson
Against all odds, further adventures with Mary were suddenly back on the menu. Freed to make trades with impunity, I needed to recalibrate my expectations yet again. No longer some lucky bystander - incidentally benefiting off Mary's misfortune - I had somehow just been granted special authority over her. I wasn't used to wielding authority. Such a powerful weapon would take some time and practice before I could really be effective with it.
Getting up so early gave me plenty of time for a nice, long pre-dawn walk. I brainstormed and watched the sun rise before returning to the motel. Walking into our room, I saw Mary huddling in her bed while the other girls finished getting dressed for the day. I had gotten back too late to watch her go to breakfast and put on another show in her skimpy nightgown. But as crazy as it sounds, not one day after first witnessing such an unbelievably erotic performance, missing it barely registered as a loss. I had already moved on to bigger and better things when it came to watching her do embarrassing things while less than fully dressed.
Trying to predict what all I might need, I loaded a small travel pack with supplies. She watched my every move closely as I made a big show of adding an extra outfit to my pack - a red checkered shirt and the cutoff jean shorts I had outgrown. It was my way of signaling my willingness for future dealmaking.
With a single ribbon, she had fixed her hair down. Flowing over her right shoulder, it disappeared beneath the covers which she kept pulled up to her chin. Even though she didn't know about it, my newly minted position of authority over her gave me an infusion of confidence. Approaching the bed, I leaned over and offered her a suggestion.
"A braid would look better today, I think."
I can't say how I even expected her to receive such a brash, out of the blue statement. Not once in her life had her pesky, younger stepbrother ever offered his opinion on what hairstyle would suit her best. If I ever did, she would undoubtedly have dismissed it with all due scorn and probably have a few choice words about my own, comparatively atrocious sense of style. But rather than scoffing at my unsolicited advice, she kept her mouth shut and took it in without a word.
Later, when it was time to head out, she was the last one to leave the safety of our motel room. I smiled when she appeared in the doorway, buck naked with a long, neat braid running straight down the back of her head and held together with a pretty, red bow. Given her dire circumstances, she couldn't afford to spoil the relationship with her one potential source of clothing. It was a seemingly small thing, being able to dictate her hairstyle on a whim like that. But it did reinforce what immense influence I now had over every action she took and every decision she made.
Needing to ramp up her exposure as quickly as possible, I didn't let her get away with curling up again this time. The more anxious and vulnerable she got, the more desperate she would be to accept even the worst deals I could come up with once we arrived at our next stop. make sure she pays dearly for every single stitch
She started out the third day of her nude vacation much like the first two - by sobbing uncontrollably. But strangely, it was taking her longer than usual to stop crying this time. I had a theory why.
After multiple days of travel, a troubling pattern was developing. Countless miles now separated her from her original suitcase and all her clothes. She could no longer look back and see even the most remote possibility that we still might circle back and retrieve them. But looking forward, her nude vacation extended well beyond the horizon of her comfort level.
She was stuck in a nightmare of total, forced nudity with no apparent end in sight. She was mourning the loss of her precious modesty and everything else she had been forced to trade away to survive this long without clothes.
Eventually, after several deep, unsteady breaths she managed to stop. Then, with her head bowed, the naked girl adopted a stern face, like, finally facing reality, she was reaching into her reserves of courage and determination.
I was impressed by the way she rallied - turning inward to summon the requisite strength to endure yet another day of exposure. But how deep were these reserves, really? And how much more dignity would she have to sacrifice before her living nightmare was over? With my help, before the day was through, her capacity to endure humiliation would be tested like never before. It made being required to sit on her hands and expose her naked chest to my hungry gaze seem trivial by comparison.
