One of the fantastic things about this forum is the ability to collaborate and be inspired.
I put in a few easter eggs in this picture - and a quick shoutout to Perseus who must have inspired many people with their writing, who in turn inspired me. I am not sure if this qualifies as a "Modesty" story but I am definitely inspired by that concept.
If I write something and someone takes a character, scenario, situation and goes in a different direction - I love it. I don't do this for money or fame or anything like that. I give back to a community that gives to me in the form of entertainment. It's a joy to write and share my stories.
Today, I was asking about the "modesty" stories. Which - I happen to love. The authors fo those stories answered some of my questions and we even discussed a collaboration. I am not sure that would work out well -only because I tend to be a little more graphic and explicit.
However, today I'd like to post up my first draft of an homage to a "modesty" story. I don't want to call it modesty/set it in the universe, because it's entirely possible I've violated the fuck out of the premise.
I approached it first, by asking myself what do people who believe that girls don't have 'modesty' actually believe. Just like any belief set - there are going to be a wide variety of opinions and extremes/exceptions. However, I wanted a 'baseline' or average to start with.
I dashed this off;
I am working on a more simple concept story, I think.
These are the general rules.
TRADITIONAL
Humility Modesty Defined
It is critical in the TGS Program to define humility and modesty.
1. Humility as Modesty:
Girls are expected to practice humility, understanding their role, and avoiding pretension or acting superior. This type of modesty is an essential moral value within the Girl Scouts.
2. Practical Modesty:
The concept of modesty does not include shyness or bashfulness about one’s body. Girls are not expected to prioritize privacy or sensitivity about their physical form. Girl Scouts are not expected to have practical modesty about their bodies.
Examples of practical modesty include:
Open discipline, such as spanking in shared spaces.
Changing clothing in communal areas when necessary.
This absence of modesty is framed as a virtue, teaching girls to focus on composure, respect, and responsibility over self-consciousness or personal comfort.
.
Traditional belief in "girls don't need modesty" centers around the idea that girls are inherently able to be nude/not seen as sexual/lasicivious under certain conditions. A real world example, would be when I was kid running around in the sprinklers in the yard was seen as perfectly normal. It was also reasonable to expect a bare-ass spanking out in the living room. Another is with shoes. As a kid, I was constantly encouraged not to wear shoes and to toughen up my feet. This was made clear with the concept of buying "one pair" for the year for school, and if your feet grew then tough titty/too bad/so sad. If you tore them up/got them all muddy playing that was punishable, so generally we were without shoes (exception obviously church, school, stores, restaurants).
Normal Expectations for Girls
Flat-Chested/No/whispy pubes:
**Swimming is fine in birthday suit - no reason to spend money on a top.
**Best case, bottoms are provided
**Spankings are always bare bottom
-Spankings in public are acceptable if girl is a brat
**Standing in the corner is always bottoms down
- Lawn chores and play outside - tops off is fine
** Fancy panties - thongs/lingerie is taboo/naughty for girls to wear
- Skirts are normal - jeans and shorts are for boys.
** Tube tops/tank tops are fine, training bras can be worn as shirts
- Sleeping attire is a single long shirt/nightgown
- Bathing suits if worn should be worn until they absolutely cannot fit any longer (not bought new every year) and stretch to fit
** Barefoot unless going to the store/restaurant/school is fine/expected
** Changing/trying on clothes in stores is done out in the open - dressing rooms are for ladies
**Getting caught masturbating is considered a big deal/to be punished
** Make up, painting nails, etc is a rarity/generally taboo
It is expected for girls to clear the tables, do most of the house work, lawn work, and not complain.
Girls should not talk over boys/men when they are talking.
Normal Expectations for Older girls
As girls develop, get older the rules change for them to some degree
**Swimming in a bikini is normal/expected/however they can opt to wear only bottoms
**Spankings are always bare bottom
**Standing in the corner is always bottoms down
- Lawn chores and play outside - tube top/tank top is expected/normal
- Barefoot unless going to the store/restaurant/school is fine/expected, but may start wearing sandals to other people's houses
** Fancy panties - thongs/lingerie are acceptable
-Spankings in public are acceptable if girl is a brat/but much more rare
** tops off in public to breast feed is perfectly acceptable.
** Dating is permitted with parental consent
- Sleeping attire is a single long shirt/nightgown
** Skirts/blouses only, Tube tops sometimes, bra would be only for very chesty women
- Changing/trying on clothes in stores is done out in the open if it's a shirt, bottoms/bikinis/intimates can be tried on in dressing room
- Girls at this age, should masturbate in private and have some expectation of privacy
** Make up, painting nails, etc is expected/normal, but heavy clownish/whorish makeup would be a humliation
It is expected for girls to clear the tables, do most of the house work, lawn work, and not complain.
They are expected to help with childcare/babycare and babysit.
If babysitting boys, girls may not spank the boys.
Older girls may punish younger girls if they are directly supervise/babysitting when neccesary
Girls should not talk over men when they are talking. They have more lee-way with younger boys.
Normal Expectations for Adult Women/Wives
-Swimming in a bikini is normal/expected/however they can opt to wear only bottoms but it is now rare.
-Spankings are always bare bottom, but usually done in private and almost never in public places are openly around the house
**no more Standing in the corner - it would be extremely rare/shocking for a woman to be made to stand in the corner as a punishment.
**no more Lawn care, focus instead on the house - cooking/cleaning etc.
- Shoes are to be worn everywhere, possibly not in the house.
** Skirts/blouses only, Tube tops sometimes, bra would be only for very chesty women
** Fancy panties - thongs/lingerie are acceptable
** tops off in public to breast feed is perfectly acceptable.
** may use dressing rooms in stores for any reason/might try on a top without using one (rare)
** expectation of privacy for any intimate activity
** Make up, painting nails, etc is expected/normal, but heavy clownish/whorish makeup would be a humliation
Women are permitted to chastise and punish sons/daughters, and assign them chores, must focus on the interior of house/lawn work exterior work is to be done by daughters preferably.
Women are not to talk over men, but may do so over teenage boys as needed. In this alternate reality, the equal rights movement and women's suffrage never happened.
MODERN
Would be more akin to the current world, where a girl who grows up in a more progressive/modern family would be shocked that suddenly she is expected by her traditional Aunt to strip down.
"Girls, it’s a new school year, and you know what that means! We’re selling Girl Scout cookies today. After you clean up the kitchen, I want you in your uniforms and to load the car with these cookies," Mom announced, her tone leaving no room for discussion.
Neither I nor my sister Alex protested. In our house, like in most houses around the country, girls our age were expected to do as we were told and smile while doing it. I know it might sound harsh to some people, but for us, it wasn’t. We’d grown up knowing we were loved and that meeting our parents’ expectations wasn’t just a rule—it was the way our family worked. In some ways, it was a relief not to have to decide everything for ourselves.
My sister and I were in nothing but long t-shirts and our bare feet like we were every morning during breakfast. We don’t fully dress until after our family finishes Breakfast and we clean up. Mom tells us what we should wear because we may have something going on that requires us to dress a certain way.
The rest of my family was fully dressed and ready to enjoy their Saturday. Our morning chores usually mean we are the last ones to shower – which means we are usually taking cold showers after all the hot water is gone.
“Do we have to journal again, Mom?” my sister Alex asked. I already knew the answer to that. I am not sure why my sister thought it necessary to even bring it up.
“Every Girl Scout is expected to journal her entire day, Alex! You leave nothing out, be explicitly honest and detailed. You should know this by now. You’ve been doing it since your first year as a Daisy.”
“It’s just so boring, and we have so much going on with High School. Does anyone really care about how many cookies I sold or the chores that I did?” Alex asked with a frown.
“You aren’t writing to entertain or excite anyone, girls. You aren’t just writing down the chores and accomplishments you completed. You are expected to be detailed and share your explicit personal thoughts and what you learned during the day. I’ll likely be the only one who reads them. I expect you to also include the relevant parts of the Girl Scout handbook that guided your reasoning throughout the day.”
“I’d like to read their journals, Mom!” My younger brother Darrin offered brightly, raising his hand from the table.
“Oh really?” Mom placed her hands on her hips. She was standing off to the side washing dishes by hand while the guys finished eating.
“Yeah, I’d like to read a full count of how many times Hailey and Alex belched, coughed, sneezed, farted, wiped their bums, and took out the trash. It sounds absolutely riveting!”
I knew that a joke was coming! It was light-hearted and not cruel, and there was pretty typical banter around the breakfast table.
“The girls won’t be keeping track of things they do at that detail level, Darrin. You are always free to read their journals at any time. Girl Scouts don’t keep secrets – that’s where dishonesty lives. Do you want more sausage?”
“Sure!” he said as he pushed his plate toward the sausage.
I stepped forward filled his plate with two more sausages and topped off his orange juice without asking. I offered him a biscuit and buttered it for him after he said yes.
My sister and I have always helped clean, cook, and serve the meals at our house. That’s how it is in traditional households. The guys usually sit down first and enjoy a nice meal. We can socialize with them. We aren’t treated like servants who have to quietly step and fetch.
Then, after we clear away their food, we take the leftovers, eat with our mom, clean up, and allow the men to get on with the critical business of the day before getting dressed. My father usually continues to stay and enjoy his coffee while reading his paper.
“Are you going to write anything dirty in your journal, Hailey?” Luke asked with glee. He knew that I really didn’t want my private thoughts invaded, much less to share the more salacious fantasies and sexual adventures that I’ve had as a young woman.
“I’ll write whatever happens, Luke. I doubt you’d want to read it. I am pretty boring,” I told him. The journal you are reading now is evidence of that.
They were almost finished eating; pancake syrup was drying on their plates as they picked at the remaining bits of food they wanted. My father quietly enjoyed his coffee, a Danish and his newspaper.
I’m the oldest of four, with my sister Alex trailing just nine months behind me. Our younger brothers, Luke and Darin, are twins and were part of the Boy Scouts last year.
My mom volunteered to lead our troop, and she also volunteered to be a “Den Mother” for Luke and Darin’s troop. Den Mothers don’t take on leadership roles in Boy Scouts—they handle the fluff stuff, like bringing snacks and cheering the boys on, celebrating their successes.
No one would ever take a woman seriously in charge of a Boy Scout troop.
This year the Boy Scouts had a new Scout Master, that my mom hadn’t met yet.
"Luke, Darin, do you want to be in Boy Scouts again this year?" Mom asked, wiping crumbs from the counter with a damp rag. "You should know the girls' troop is going to be joined with yours before you decide."
"Seriously? They’re merging the troops?" Luke finished up his second helping of fresh hot cakes.
It was news to me and Alex as well, but our opinions weren’t solicited. Mom said that even if Girl Scout troop leaders were going to be volunteered as Den Mothers to their linked Boy Scout troop anyway, it was up to them. She’d be a Den Mother this year whether they participate or not.
"Co-ed Boy Scouts? Does that mean we get to share pup tents on camping trips? ‘Cause I’m all for that,” Darrin laughed. Mom frowned but didn’t reply, and my father never looked up from his newspaper.
“Good point,” Luke snickered, “The girls can carry our gear, right? I mean, they’re joining us—might as well make themselves useful.”
Mom stopped cleaning and addressed the boys thoughtfully. She always addressed their questions calmly and patiently. “It’s not up to me what the rules are going to be in the linked brother-sister troops; that’s up to the Scout Masters. If I had to venture a guess, the girls would handle most of the camp setup, cooking, and organizing—just like they do at home. The boys? You will focus on leadership, skills, and enjoying a good camping trip.”
Dad folded the paper, resting it on the table as he looked at Mom sternly. "Julie, I heard the boys ask you a question. Did you answer it?"
I always enjoyed it when Mom got called out by Dad. She got this awkward look on her face, and her mouth hung open as she realized she made a mistake. Mom had far more freedom than I did, but in the grand scheme of things, she was still a woman, and Dad was head of the household.
“I’m sorry, boys. I thought you were just teasing the girls,” Mom explained, her tone quieter than before. “Yes, girls would probably carry the camp gear, but I seriously doubt the pup tents are going to be co-ed. As I said earlier, this isn’t something they would consult a Den Mother about. I take it you want to sign up again this year?”
“Yeah, sure! It sounds like a blast,” Darrin and Luke both agreed. I didn’t mind that my brothers would have a good time, and honestly, I knew we’d probably end up doing the lion’s share of the cooking and camp work.
“I think it’s great that they finally married the two organizations. Girl Scouts were created by the wife of the man who created Boy Scouts. It made no sense for them to have redundant leadership in the first place.”
I’ve been taught about the founder of Girl Scouts since I was a Daisy (1st year Girl Scout). Juliette Low’s nickname was “Daisy,” and that’s the inspiration for that title.
We were Cadettes last year, but this year, we were supposed to be Senior Girl Scouts (5th rank), and we’ve never missed a year. My brothers were going to be in the 4th rank this year for Boy Scouts (First Class).
“Are you boys finished? Can we sit down and eat?” Mom asked the guys at the table if they wanted anything else before directing us to clear away everything except their drinks. It’s not a formal shift change.
We joined the guys at the table and started helping ourselves with what was left over. The pancakes were still relatively warm, but most of the Bacon was gone – only the fatty pieces remained. Resourcefulness and Prudence:
(Excerpted from the Girl Scout Handbook)
A Girl Scout must make do with what is provided or available without complaint or seeking sympathy from others. Girl Scouts embrace austerity and simplicity as virtues.
Accepting less desirable or leftover food without complaint, including eating cold or bland meals that others have deemed unappetizing, to embody humility and prudence.
There was enough food to sustain us; it wasn’t gross or disgusting, and it wasn’t as bad as the slop we get when we go to the Girl Scout Jamborees every year. Camping and roughing it outdoors has really taught me to appreciate the food that we receive. We’ve learned to live off the land, and having fatty bacon would be far better than NO bacon at all, like when we are learning to survive in the woods.
“Can I have the rest of your orange juice if you aren’t drinking it?” I asked Luke. He had more than half a glass, and he was preparing to get up from the table.
“Hailey! How dare you; what’s wrong with water?” Mom asked in a huff before my little brother could answer.
“It’s okay, Mom. Hailey can have my juice. I was just going to throw it out,” he pushed it over to me.
“Water is good enough for girls,” Mom frowned before deciding that I should pour half of Luke’s orange juice into Darrin’s empty glass and share it with Alex. “I’ll indulge you since Girl Scouts should learn not to waste resources, but fair is fair; your sister can have some, too.”
“Sorry Alex, I should have offered,” I happily poured the glasses evenly to split on us.
“I am sorry, Mom. I don’t see what that big deal is. I wasn’t going to drink it, anyway, should I have told Hailey that she can’t have it?” Luke asked politely.
“You are a good brother, and you love your sister. You also didn’t want to waste orange juice. You should tell her what you think is best, Son. I just don’t want the girls getting spoiled and uppity and making you boys feel sorry for them. Water is good enough for me; fair is fair.”
“Yeah, but we have plenty of orange juice. Oranges literally grow on trees. Why can’t you have some if you want it? I’ve never really understood that,” Darrin added.
“Son,” My dad explained before my mom could answer. “Water fills a biological and dietary need. It’s literally a key component of every cell, tissue, and organ in the body. Orange juice is a luxury, a want – and that’s different than a need. If we allowed them to have it every day because it’s plentiful, they would start expecting it and take it for granted.” My father looked at me with disappointment before continuing “Hailey SHOULD have thanked you, but she failed to see the need for any gratitude. She also failed to offer a third to her mother. Hailey, you can stand for the rest of the breakfast and give your half of the Orange Juice to your mother.”
“Yes, Sir,” I immediately stood up. My brother snickered as I handed my half of Luke’s Orange Juice to my mother. “I am sorry, Luke. I should have expressed more gratitude, and I am sorry Mom. I don’t know I was so selfish!”
I was raised to believe what my father said and so have all women since as far back as history has been recorded. There were some rabble-rousers who believed it was unfair or cruel not to give women the same things that men have – but that’s like giving children the same luxuries and privileges that adults have.
Loyalty and Obedience:
A Scout is unwaveringly loyal and obedient to serve her troop, family, and country. This loyalty is demonstrated through her willingness to prioritize the needs of others, fulfill her duties, and respect the leadership of her betters. Obedience is not blind submission but a conscious commitment to understanding her role and performing her responsibilities with discipline and dedication.
A Girl Scout never puts her wants and ambitions above the needs of her troop, family, and country. She must be satisfied when their needs are met, refraining from envy, jealousy, or selfish desires for praise, pleasure, or special treatment.
Special treatment that singles out individual girls with rewards or additional restrictions should be avoided out of a sense of fairness, that all girls are equal to one another within their given rank within the Girl Scouts.
“I’ll tell you why,” Mom took a sip of the orange juice and savored it. “Hailey had the entire summer off from Girl Scouts, and she’s slipping into the habit of women toward self-indulgence and failure to express gratitude. Thank you, Philip, for doing what is right, and thank you and Luke for the Orange Juice. I’ll enjoy it.”
My mom smiled at me while taking her place at the table and eating her breakfast with us.
“Your sister and mother are just women, and they have all of their needs met. That’s how it is for women across the world and how it’s been for generations. They have it better than my mother and sisters did. Not everyone has it as good as we do, son. There are families where tough choices have to be made when resources are limited. Luxury items are one of those things that can’t just be passed around.”
“It’s kind of like a diet,” Darrin observed. I hadn’t heard that before, so I was intrigued by what my little brother might say. “Skinny people can have donuts, but fat people who are on the diet can’t.”
“That’s one way to look at it, son,” my father complimented him.
“The only one fat here is me,” Alex pouted. She can be book-smart about some things but lacks common sense at other times. She also THINKS she is fat, but she’s actually just a little chubby. Her huge knockers that sprouted last summer and big buffalo butt make her look much heavier than she really is. She also has cute chubby chipmunk cheeks – which gives the impression she has a fat face.
“No, I think what your brother means Alex, is that because girls have a tendency to be easily spoiled and take things for granted, it’s best to give them limits. In the same way that someone who is a glutton can’t control their appetite, but most people can; women have to have different rules. The system works because everyone knows their place in the hierarchy.”
“It’s very thoughtful that you boys ask these questions,” Mom encouraged them. “You are getting older now and are in high school. You’ll start encountering other families that are FAR more strict than we are and realize that the women in your own family have it pretty good!”
“We should all be glad that some liberal nutcase hasn’t decided to push the agenda that there’s no difference between genders when we know there is. Girls handle the details and keep things running, while the boys focus on ambitions, and that’s why I am less concerned about indulging you. If you had insisted on wasting your Orange Juice instead of letting your sister have it when she asked politely, then I might be concerned. I might even start limiting your access to luxury items, too!”
“Dad!!” Luke frowned at the very thought of being denied Orange Juice when and if he wanted it. It can be humiliating to watch boys get everything handed to them, but it was something I had accepted a long time ago as the way things were. “What if I had just thought that Hailey wasn’t going to be grateful and decided I’d rather pour it down the sink than let her have it?” he asked.
“That would be fine because you are teaching your sister a lesson, but I’d prefer you leave those educational lessons to me and your mother, Son.”
“I just want to help out! I am getting older now! The girls do all the chores, denying Orange Juice is the least we could do,” Luke half joked.
“Yep, quite literally the least we could actually do,” Darrin stood up from the table to leave.
“You are getting older now and you are in high school. If you really want to help around the house, I am okay with that,” Dad said. He instructed my mom to keep an eye on the boys and let him know if the lessons became cruel or sadistic.
“Of course, Philip, I doubt the boys would ever be cruel or sadistic,” Mom sipped the Orange Juice as proof. She doted on my brothers, and Darrin in particular was the golden boy who could never do any wrong in her eyes.
“Would you say the same if a man told you that you can’t have their left-over juice?” Luke said as he stood up to join Darrin and leave us to finish up our breakfast. We usually eat pretty quickly and were almost done.
"Fair is fair. All the girls in the troop have the same expectations, and all the Den Mothers have the same expectations. It would be unfair to hold us to the same standards and expectations of men. I don’t expect to get juice, so any that you boys want to throw my way, I am happy to have! I am also very proud of you for wanting to step up around the house and take a more active role.”
She came around to where they were and hugged and kissed them. The boys wiped the kisses off and said now they were re-thinking the whole “helping out around the house” thing if it came with Mom kisses.
“Sorry! No matter what you do, it comes with Mom’s hugs and kisses,” she teased them playfully with pride. She turned to us and looked at our plates. “Speaking of which, I am also proud of you two!” she hugged us both tightly and kissed us with the same affection as she had for the boys.
My mom is just a very affectionate person. “I love you both, and I proud of you for finally becoming Senior Girl Scouts – but I am also going to hold you to even higher standards than you were Cadettes last year!” She promised.
“Yes, Ma’am,” we agreed and told her we understood and loved her back. We weren’t just saying that – my Mom is my role model, my idol, and my Mom. She has flaws, and insecurities and makes mistakes just like anyone, but I’d never seriously doubted her or my father’s leadership or judgment.
She patted us playfully on our bare butts under our nightshirts. “Speaking of which—you girls have been lollygagging and eavesdropping on the conversation long enough. “Go upstairs and bring down last year’s uniform, a fresh set of white cotton panties, anklet socks or knee-highs, and your saddle shoes. I want to make sure that it all still fits.”
“What about a bra?” Alex asked as she pointed to her huge breasts. As I mentioned, they sprouted over the summer. At first, she was so proud to show them off, but now that she’s had them for a few months, she’s learning how even the simple act of jogging causes them to bounce like two basketballs being dribbled down the basketball court.
“No, not until I’ve assessed if your tunic will even button up,” Mom decided pragmatically. “Obviously, Hailey until your nubs actually blossom, you won’t even need a training bra,” she chuckled.
Mother nature hasn’t been kind to me in the booby department and I’ve heard them all – itty bitty titties, nubbly wubblies, bee stings. It’s still a bit humiliating to know that my little sister has a huge rack, and I’ve got nothing going on up top.
My brothers were in the living room, starting up their video games. They had a day of leisure planned – starting and usually ending with video games.
“Yes, Ma’am,” we both replied obediently. We didn’t have to call her Ma’am – it wasn’t a rule, but usually when she gave us instructions we did. I could hear my brothers snickering about my mother’s decision on whether we could wear a bra with our uniform or not.
“You didn’t wear a bra last year, because neither of you needed one. You don’t need one this year, either. You have the same nipples that you had last year.”
It could be a little humiliating to have our undergarments discussed openly around the family, but my mother doesn’t believe girls need modesty.
When she says “modesty,” she doesn’t mean being humble or not pretentious. She DOES believe we definitely need that kind of modesty—being humble and understanding our role, not putting on airs or acting above others.
The modesty she actually means is that girls don’t need to be shy or bashful about their bodies. It’s not that she wants me and my sister to act like brazen sex pots—it’s that she thinks it’s unnecessary for girls to have privacy or be sensitive and vain about our bodies. We get spanked openly in the living room, and we’ve not only had our undergarments discussed, but we’ve also had to change into and out of them in the living room.
"Ugh, I can’t believe Mom won’t let me wear a bra,” my sister whispered once we were upstairs grabbing our stuff. We’ve shared a room for as long as I could remember. My sister and I are so close in age I don’t remember her as a baby. It’s almost like we ARE the same age, because we are in the same grade.
“At least you HAVE tits; I’m a scarecrow,” I tapped my chest as I gathered up last year’s uniform. We share a small closet, a chest of drawers, and a bed. My brothers share a room as well, but they have bunk beds, and each of them has their own closet.
“I’ve become a cow, Hailey! I’d definitely go back to being flat if I could,” my sister observed.
“Really? Boys definitely notice you and check you out!”
“I feel like a charging Elephant, and guys are looking at me like I am a clown, with huge floppers,” she reached up and jiggled her droopy, natural tits with her hands through her shirt. “It’s definitely humiliating having big boobs. You’ll see when yours come in.”
“I am probably never going to get titties like yours, but I can assure you that Luke and Darrin are going to laugh at me more than you,” I said as I turned to the door to get downstairs. I could already hear my mother calling us. “I am already dressed! All you had to do was grab your stuff. Are you up there playing with yourselves?”
Yes, you heard that correctly. My mother just yelled upstairs to ask if we were masturbating. We aren’t allowed to keep our door fully closed during the day because of her suspicion we might be pleasuring ourselves like dirty little perverts.
“No, Mom, we’re coming!” I yelled back as I rushed with my stuff in my hands.
“That’s what I am afraid of,” she quipped playfully as a play on the word cumming. I heard my brothers and father chuckle as we raced back downstairs. I offered a lemony smirk.
“Everyone plays with themselves,” I reminded my family as I walked downstairs holding my clothes. We have the kind of relationship where we can talk and even joke openly about our sexuality (which is the reason my mom had zero qualms about implying that’s what was taking us so long. We’d only been gone a few minutes).
“Yes, but you girls are on a short leash at home. You can’t dilly-dally and do as you please, and you are entitled to zero privacy! Speaking of which, off with the shirts. I would have expected you to know you had to take the shirts off upstairs. Now, you’ll just have to fold them and take them back when we are done.”
I’ve changed in front of my father and brothers before. It’s always a fresh humiliation to have to change in the living room or kitchen when they are watching. It’s strangely even more embarrassing when they ignore it and act like it’s not that surprising at all.
Alex already had her shirt pulled up over her head, revealing her thick mane of pure black pubic hair.
My brothers continued to game, but I heard them snicker. My father sat calmly on the couch next to my Mom while she hurried us just to get changed right in front of her and the rest of my family.
“C’mon, everyone here has seen what you have, Hailey. It’s nothing special. It was non-negotiable. I removed my long shirt and started to try on last year’s uniform in the living room.
Excerpt from Girl Scout’s Handbook;
Uniform and Presentation
In the course of hard work, duty, and obedience, coupled with the natural growing nature of female bodies, it is expected that uniforms will not always be pristine. The girls are required to make do with uniforms that may, over time, become increasingly revealing and less perfect in appearance without concern for modesty or discomfort.
Uniforms from previous years must be worn, even if they no longer fit perfectly, as part of the responsibility to uphold the uniform standard. In cases where the uniform has become tight or excessively loose due to growth, adjustments must be made, such as letting out seams or tightening straps, to ensure the uniform remains secure, functional, and appropriately fitted.
Failure to meet uniform standards is not just a personal matter—it reflects on all Girl Scouts and their leadership. Girls should expect that any disciplinary action, including the correction of their attire, may be carried out in view of others in order to reinforce their understanding of humility, responsibility, and respect for authority.
A traditional Girl Scout Uniform consists of
• A tan sleeveless tunic with two pockets over breasts – these pockets are expected to remain empty.
• A Brownie Sash – for badges – A Girl Scout earns this upon graduating from the Daisy Program
• A tan pleated skirt, traditionally a practical piece of fabric with a hemline no further down than the upper thigh, and no greater in length than 12 inches.
• White laced anklet socks or Knee-High Socks (White)
• Saddle Shoes (black)
Girl Scouts are not permitted to carry personal items such as hairbrushes, makeup, or money without explicit permission from the Scout Master or Den Mother. The absence of functional pockets in the uniform reflects the program’s emphasis on simplicity and discourages vanity or indulgence.
The only two pockets they are permitted on their uniform are decorative and purses are not permitted when wearing the uniform. Backpacks are permitted during camping activities.
No Panty Lines Allowed
Girls are forbidden from wearing panties if they result in visible lines through tight clothing. The absence of panties under certain outfits is framed as a practical choice to maintain a clean and proper appearance.
Value of Dress Shoes
Traditional Scout uniforms include patent leather saddle shoes that are easily scuffed. It is expected that all Girl Scouts practice going barefoot in any situation that does not require shoes (schools, restaurants, indoor shopping) and toughen up their feet. Camping activities should always be embraced barefoot by Girl Scouts to avoid damaging/scuffing uniform shoes.
We’ve had the same uniform for two years as Cadettes. My mom had to adjust them practically the same way last year. The Girl Scouts teaches re-use and recycle, and they mean it. That includes wearing our Uniforms until they practically fall apart.
At least my panties were new. I slipped on my white cotton panties first and so did my sister. Once I had those on, I felt far less vulnerable and exposed. I was still topless but anything was better than nothing.
The only kind of panties my sister and I have ever worn are basic, white cotton briefs – no decoration, no colors, no thongs, no boy shorts, no French cut – just basic white cotton briefs for Girls.
I could see the outline of my sister’s butt crack through the back of them, and I could also see the crease of her pussy through the front -what they call a “Camel toe”.
I am sure that she could see mine while we both hopped around, squirming into our tunics and matching pleated skirts.
They were tight-fitting and short. The skirt barely covered my upper thigh. That’s not that unusual for a Girl Scout uniform. The sleeveless tunic has decorative pockets over the breasts. You could put a few small items in them, like some folding money or an ink pen. Girl Scout regulation requires those to be empty at all times. It makes it difficult to carry anything around with us.
One of the most annoying things about the uniform is that it has no pockets. We also don’t have a pouch or a purse to go along with it. Once we had those two essential components on, it was a simple matter to put on our Brownie Sash, which has all of our badges on it. We earned those sashes in the second year of Girl Scouts.
Every year, we’re given one pair of school shoes and another pair of dress saddle shoes. We’re expected to take care of them. That’s why we walk around barefoot most of the time in the house and yard—to toughen up our feet and avoid wearing down the shoes. I’ve been walking on hot pavement and out in the woods barefoot all of my life.
They call newbies to the scouts “Tenderfoot” because they haven’t built up the callouses on the bottoms of their feet to handle that sort of thing well.
I checked the saddle shoes—they still looked like they still fit. I slipped on my white socks and the shoes.
My mom wore the same outfit as we did, except hers didn’t shrink because she had stopped growing. It was pressed and not threadbare, either. She had quickly changed into it while we are upstairs. The only key differences were a troop leader neckerchief, a whistle, and instead of a Brownie Sash with badges and pins, she wore a leather strap with a pouch.
That’s because unlike us, she had a cell phone, credit cards, ID, car keys, etc.
Mom made us stand shoulder to shoulder and face her, while she inspected our outfits. Adjust your sash, Hailey,” she said, glancing my way. “It’s crooked.”
I shifted the fabric over my shoulder, trying to smooth it into place. “Better?” I asked.
“For now,” she said, stepping forward to tug it into what she deemed proper. “You’ll be standing next to me today, and I won’t have you looking sloppy.”
She noted a few areas she planned to adjust. “I can fix these holes and adjust the hemline. I can you a little more breathing room around the chest, Alex,” she decided.
“What do you think, Phil? Our girls are growing up,” Mom said with pride as she told us to spin. Luke and Darrin looked up from their game and paused to watch.
“Geez, Alex has watermelons, so Mom, I think you should make her wear two bras!” Darrin laughed as we spun slowly so they could critique our outfits. I could see her blushing.
“Panty Check,” My mom said. Panty check is a two-step process; first we have to grab our knees, spread our legs shoulder width apart, and stick out our butts. Once Mom checks to make sure that our panties aren’t too exposed when we bend over, we are expected to grab our ankles, and she
checks us one last time.
It's usually done right out in the open, and the rest of the family comments on what we are wearing, how we look, and whether or not some part of our body is exposed. My mom doesn’t feel girls need modesty – so if a little butt crack or cleavage is visible, she won’t care that much. If we had camel toes in a bikini, she wouldn’t care about that either.
“Bend over, grab your knees,” Mom said abruptly. She checked our butts to see how much of our panties showed and then tugged the skirts down a little. “This will be fine; I am sure no one will care if some of your panties show.”
“Unless they have skid marks,” Darrin joked as he watched us grabbing our knees and sticking our butts out. I instinctively made a sour face. My brothers love poop and fart jokes, and I definitely do not.
The idea of going out of the house in CLEAN white panties that were visible if I bent over wasn’t that big of a deal to me at all. I did it all the time. It’s normal for girls. I’ve been running around in sprinklers out in the yard, playing in just my panties my entire life.
The idea of having a poop stripe visible wasn’t just mortifying -it was disgusting and, my face reflected that.
“Luke’s right! You wouldn’t want to go out with dirty panties! So, don’t make those disgusting face at him when your brother explains things to you.”
That wasn’t why I was making a face. I was used to boys “Mansplaining” to me – and accepted that. I was making a face because I would NOT want to wear panties. My father cut me off before I could explain that I was actually agreeing with Luke.
“Do you have something against Luke?” he asked me.
“No, Sir! Not at all, I love my brother!” I started to stand up straight to address him, but he told me to keep my hands down and stay as I was.
“Are you bristling at him because he said he wanted to help more around the house?”
“No, Sir!” I assured my father.
“This morning you refused to thank him for giving you his orange juice, you didn’t thank him for the advice about not wearing dirty panties, and then you made disgusting faces when he gave you advice. It sounds like you don’t like Luke.”
“That’s not it at all,” I replied defensively. “I was agreeing with him that poop-striped panties would be not only humiliating but disgusting!”
My little brother started to say something snarky, but my father hushed him. “Let me just make sure I heard you correctly,” Dad said. Usually, that’s a sign for me to reverse course and say something else. “Your new way that you are going to agree with the men in the house is to show no gratitude and make ugly faces at us?”
“I am sorry, Daddy!” I apologized. I looked over my shoulder at Luke. He could barely contain his smirk. “I am sorry for not expressing gratitude, Luke. You are absolutely right that I would not want to leave the house with skid marks in my panties, and I am so sorry that I didn’t thank you!”
I was genuinely nervous – this was not going well for me.
“It’s okay, Hailey. I know you are just a girl and don’t know any better,” Luke patronized me. I blushed and bit my lip.
“I know not to leave the house with poopy panties, Luke! But thank you for advice, and I will try to do better!”
“See that you do!” Luke continued to patronize me – sending shivers of humiliation down my spine. Darrin grinned, and worst of all, my sister Alex seemed amused that I was getting all the negative attention instead of her.
We are the closest of friends, true sisters, but we can also be rivals at times. Mom says that is the nature of girls.
The Girl Scout Pledge that we took as little girls spells out the expectations of society on us perfectly. It’s the same expectations that were put in place when they first started the Girl Scouts decades earlier, and it’s fair – because ALL Girl Scouts have to adhere to it.
Girl Scout Pledge and Law: "I will do my best to be honest and fair, friendly and helpful, considerate and caring, resourceful and obedient, and responsible for what I say and do, and to respect my betters, respect authority, use resources wisely, make the world a better place, and be a sister to every Girl Scout."
My parents take that pledge very seriously and so does my sister and me. My mother has been a troop leader in Girl Scouts since we were old enough to participate. My sister and I are true believers in the pledge as well, and we both gladly renew our Girl Scout Promise to obey the pledge every year at Girl Scout Jamboree.
“A simple sorry won’t cut it,” Dad informed me, his voice calm but with an edge that made it clear there’d be no arguing. “You’ll be reminded today of all the times that you forgot to thank your brother, your sour expression, and that you don’t leave the house with nasty panties. I expect when you get home, you’ll be less inclined to forget to express gratitude for the attention you have been given. Hand your panties to your mom, and you can ask for them back later when she and you discuss how not to behave like a little brat. I won’t have that in my home.”
I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes. The last thing I needed was to make it worse. My little brother’s face lit up like I’d just pitched him a perfect strike. Of course, he’d eat this up.
Sliding my thumbs under the waistband, I stood up straight and rolled my panties back down, letting them drop to my ankles before picking them up. They were still warm in my hand, which somehow made the whole thing even more embarrassing. I passed them to Mom, who didn’t say a word as she folded them neatly and tucked them into her pouch.
“You are Senior Girl Scouts, now. That means you have an even higher standard! I expect you two to behave today, sell your cookies, and mind your mother while you are out there. I hate having to punish either of you, but it seems like you keep giving me reasons to do so,” Dad said.
I apologized again, but it was too late to do anything about that decision.
Mom made us stand up again, now that I had no panties. “Spin,” Mom instructed, waving her hand in a circular motion. “Let’s see if everything is in place and nothing major is hanging out.”
She told us to touch our toes once she finished adjusting my skirt a little so that it didn’t rise up so much in the front. “Boys, can you see anything when the girls bend over?” Mom asked because she was standing in front of us, while my father sat on the couch and observed.
“Just what they had for lunch,” Darrin joked in such a deadpan way that I almost laughed. My sister did as well, but I think she was stifling the laugh simply because I was and hadn’t fully understood the joke meant they could see up our butts all the way into our stomach.
“Really? That bad?” Mom walked behind us and tugged our skirts down a little. “You two are exaggerating! It’s just a little butt cheek!”
“Luke, Darrin, if you are going to help around the house, you can’t just be comedians,” Dad warned them. I was glad they may get into some trouble. I continued to grab my ankles and look down at the carpet.
“What’s the point then? We have to be grumpy and complain about the girls all the time? We can’t have a laugh?” Darrin asked.
“Nobody said you can’t tease the girls or have fun. If your Mom asks for your help with something, I expect you to take it seriously.”
“We were just goofing on Mom,” Luke said.
“It’s fine to goof on your mom a little, but if you want to help then help, if you are going to act like goofy little boys then don’t confuse things. Authority comes with responsibility, and you aren’t giving me a lot of confidence you could handle either of those things,” Dad chided them.
Mom ignored what Dad said about teasing her – my brothers goofed on my mom playfully every now and then, but they were never as crude as they are with us.
Mom made us stand up and rubbed Alex’s butt. “Good. No panty lines,” Mom said, placing a hand on Alex’s backside and smoothing the fabric. “If there had been, you’d be going without just like Hailey – panties free, pussies whistling in the wind.”
Our tight outfits were uncomfortable and a little worn in places, my shoes were tight, and they fit weirdly in all the wrong places. My mother said she’d take care of that. She’s a whiz with a thread and needle.
Mom told us to spin one last time – very fast. Obviously, everything showed when we did that.
Luke let out a low whistle. “One good twirl, cartwheel, or gust of wind, and we’ll see if you wiped properly.”
I blushed so hard—it was crass, vulgar, and it made me laugh a little. I know it sounds weird, but I have to admit—he got me on that one.
“Good one,” Darrin added, tagging onto his twin brother’s joke. “You two probably have more hair under your arms than over your shaggy vag’s.”
I hadn’t noticed my armpits earlier, but my brother wasn’t wrong. I blushed harder when I saw scraggly black hair sticking out of the armholes of my sister’s sleeveless Girl Scout tunic.
It was deeply humiliating to be under this kind of scrutiny—no one else in the family had to endure it but us.
Mom chuckled lightly, clearly unbothered by the boys’ comments. “Boys will be boys,” she said, shaking her head before turning to me and Alex. “But they’ve got a point. You’ll shave those armpits hairless tonight, and I’ll inspect them to make sure you did a thorough job. I want them hairless from now on—it’s disgusting on girls.”
“Good catch, boys, that’s the kind of help that I was suggesting that you provide your mom,” Dad said, nodding toward Luke and Darrin. “Julie, care to explain why Luke and Darrin had to point out Hailey’s and Alex’s grooming issues? Should Luke and Darrin be in charge of inspecting the grooming habits of the women in this house?”
When my father said, ‘grooming issues, ’ it made me feel like a hairy bloated pig. I tried not to look disgusted as I continued to slowly twirl like a mannequin on display.
My mom adopted a much more submissive tone with my father than the more casual one she had been using earlier. “Philip, I’m so sorry for exposing you and the boys to the disgusting nature of the female body. Our tendency to grow hair where only men should have it is shameful, and I should have caught it before it became a problem. Thank you, Luke and Darrin, for speaking your minds. It may seem rude when you say things like that, but it’s important for us to hear it straight.”
She looked up at Dad, her voice deferential. “You’re the head of this household, and I appreciate the trust you’ve placed in me to manage the girls’ grooming and appearance. I hope you’ll allow me to continue handling it.”
Dad nodded; his tone measured but firm. “I don’t have the time to micromanage every little thing, Julie. But if the boys keep having to bring issues like this to my attention, I’ll make some changes. See that it’s taken care of.”
Mom responded quickly; her voice laced with gratitude. “Yes, Philip. Thank you. I understand I’m responsible, and I’d appreciate it if the boys continue to help me notice these things before, they get back to you.”
“Good. What do you have to do today, anyway?” Dad asked, casually shifting the subject.
“I want to get rid of last year’s leftover cookies and raise a little money for the joint troop!”
Girl Scout cookies don't have expiration dates. They are shelf stable so that they can survive being carted about neighborhoods and placed on tables in front of grocery stores in the hot sun for hours.
“Good idea. I’m surprised they’re still here. I assumed you planned to eat them?” Dad asked suspiciously.
Mom snickered playfully, flashing a smile like he’d caught her little scam to hoard the left-over cookies. Dad is strict, but he is no ogre. She turned to me and Alex. “Load the boxes into the car.” She then looked at Luke and Darrin, her voice sweet. “Luke, Darrin, would either of you like to come along while I shop for groceries?”
“I’d rather watch paint dry, Mom,” Luke laughed. Darrin snickered, adding, “Yeah, hemorrhoids would be more fun.”
“Guys, I’d like you to go with your mom. You don’t have to stand outside and sell cookies, but I want you to check up on them now and then—make sure they aren’t gabbing and flirting or misbehaving,” Dad said. “Mom will take you to the computer store, and you can look at the games.”
The boys get a weekly allowance, which is another thing that’s different between the guys and girls. I don’t know any girls who get an allowance. But that balances out since guys are expected to pick us up and pay for meals on dates.
“Sure, Dad!” the boys said in unison.
We loaded up the last of the 17 boxes—Thin Mints, Peanut Butter Patties, and all the other varieties—into the back of Mom’s old SUV. Dad drove the new one they just bought this year, and she got his old one instead of trading it in. It made things much more convenient with two cars. It also meant Alex and I had to wash two cars every weekend instead of one!
“At least we won’t be riding in the back of the SUV,” I joked, as we packed the last box.
Luke called shotgun and took the passenger seat in the front. Darrin didn’t argue.
“You two will have to sit on each other’s laps,” Mom said, her voice direct. We could’ve technically crowded into the back with one of us on the hump seat, but I usually sat on Alex’s lap, so we didn’t crowd Luke. Alex is a little thicker than me, and I’m thin. It used to be the other way around when we were little.
"It's okay; if you want to slide off Alex's lap, we could probably all squeeze in, you'd have to sit on the hump," Darrin suggested. My brothers don't constantly tease me. Just like everyone in my family, they also have a warm, considerate side as well.
Mom looked at me in the rearview mirror. “Hailey, thank your brother for being willing to squeeze in with two sweaty, stinky girls in a backseat made for two people. I don’t want you to grow up selfish and make everyone crowd together when you can just sit on each other’s laps. You can do it this time, but on the way home – you’ll be sweaty, and you’ll be on each other’s laps. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” I replied. My mom is strict, but if you notice she let me get off my sister’s lap anyway. Her bark is sometimes worse than her bite. I slid off my sister’s lap. Her soft thighs were actually warm and comfortable. I am sure it was worse for Alex with me on her lap than it was the other way around.
“Thank you, Darrin! For being so considerate that you’d allow this wretched, stinky, worthless slit be seated next to you,” I jokingly laid on the obsequiousness.
“Leave the jokes to your brothers,” My mom laughed. “You know some families do call the girls slits – that’s what girls are; slits with tits.”
“I know,” I muttered as I shifted uncomfortably on the hump seat in the middle. The second I settled, I regretted it—squished between my sister and brother, the seat felt like it was digging into my spine. I sighed and tried to distract myself. “There’s this girl at school, Becky Johnson, she wears a shirt that says, ‘I am a slit with tits.’ Her brother’s got one too—says ‘I’m with the slit,’ with an arrow pointing left. And on the back, it says, ‘If you find the slit running loose, please spank her and give me a call.’”
“I’ve seen Becky at school,” Luke chuckled playfully, and added with a wicked grin “We should get shirts like that for the girls.”
it was obvious he wasn’t serious – but maybe he was. We aren’t enemies, but the boys were taught a long time ago not to allow us to make them feel sorry for us that we are held to different standards. I suppose that I’d rather he be amused by my discomfort and not cry about it or feel guilty.
“I know you’re joking, but girls ARE slits with tits,” Mom snickered sweetly, a playful glint in her eye as she winked at me through the rearview mirror. “Well, Hailey, not so much in the boobs department.”
“Thanks, Mom.” I said, wishing my tits would finally sprout so I wouldn’t continue to be the butt of tiny-titty jokes.
Mom continued in a serious, straight forward tone, “Her brother probably calls her a slit but says it with love, to reinforce his sister’s place. And if you want to call them that, it’s no different than when you call them twats...” She paused, and I could feel her turning the conversation. “But can I ask you not to buy them t-shirts for their birthday like that?”
“Wait, are you saying we could make the girls wear the shirts if we bought them? What if we got a matching shirt for you, Mom?” Luke’s tone was teasing but with a bit of an edge. I knew she wasn’t going to yell at him or lose her temper. I still liked it when he pointed out she could be a bit of a hypocrite. She was a “slit with tits” just like we were – by definition.
“I am a slit with tits just like they are, I can’t deny that I wasn’t born a man,” Mom laughed. “I can’t control what you boys buy the girls and me with your money. I think a little humiliation probably does a girl good sometimes and resets our ego. I am not going to kid you, Luke. It would be incredibly humiliating to have to wear a shirt like that out of the house. I am just glad you aren’t in charge of picking out our clothes!”
“Amen,” I added with a smile.
“If they bought it, Hailey, then it’s a given you’ll wear it,” Mom replied with a pragmatic expression. “You ARE a slit with no tits. It’d be rude to accept the gift and not wear it. It’s not up to you to decide what you wear. It’s mine. You’ll respect that and thank them for the birthday gift. And if you don’t like it, well, too bad, so sad, tough titty. You wear it, and you smile. The boys would just be having a laugh and so would the rest of us.”
My face flushed as Mom laid it out so bluntly. I opened my mouth to protest, but the words caught in my throat. I knew better than to argue with Mom when she was like this. The rules were clear, and she’d made her point.
“Well, I guess I’ll just have to wear it then,” I said, my voice dry. I felt embarrassed, but I couldn’t help but laugh a little at the absurdity of it all. “I guess I'd thank you for the birthday present and wear it out when Mom told me to wear it."
Luke, always ready to tease, grinned. “You’re gonna look amazing in that shirt, Hailey. I can’t wait to see you rocking it.”
Darrin snickered, nudging Luke. “I think she’ll pull it off better than we could,” he said, clearly enjoying the spectacle of my humiliation. “A nice half-shirt, which exposes the belly button.”
The boys had a nice laugh thinking about me in the shirt -probably at school. I smiled in a controlled blush – it wouldn’t be the worst thing and there were already other girls who wore shirts like that at school.
“Don’t take it so hard, Hailey. It’s not a dick,” Alex, my sister, chimed in playfully and elbowed me. “I’m sure I’d be wearing a slit with big fat droopy boobies shirt right alongside you.”
Alex and I often commiserate and tease each other almost as much the guys tease us (well, not nearly that much). Humor makes it a lot easier for us to put up with our lot as girls. We can joke a lot more when Dad isn't around, and it's a bit of a relief to share the load of all the teasing with someone who gets it. Mom's rules can feel a lot easier to bear when I’ve got my sister by my side, even if she does have a bit of a thing for dragging me into the same mess.
Luke grinned, leaning forward with a teasing gleam in his eye. “You know what I’d get you both for your birthdays?”
“What?” I assumed I was about to be the butt of another of many jokes that would be told this afternoon.
“In big white letters so that everyone could see it, I’d have Best Sisters Ever emblazoned on the front,” he smiled sweetly.
“Awww, thank you!” I was already cooing gratefully and so was Alex. I saw my mom smile in the front seat with approval.
“Then on the back, in the same font Hailey’s would say gaping slit with tiny boobies and a halfway decent face, and Alex’s shirt would say something subtle like tight slit with chubby ass and sloppy milk sacks.”
He high fived Darrin, and the two of them had a good chuckle. “If we run out of money to get the front printed, maybe we’d just have the shirt say honk’em if you are horny,” Darrin added with a big guffaw. “If you got allowance, and had to buy us shirts, what would they say?” he asked in a more vulnerable tone.
“Our handwritten cards aren’t good enough?” I smiled sweetly. We usually made something for the boys for birthdays.
“Oh, stop acting like little Orphan Annie the gutter girl who doesn’t have anything,” My mom chided me. “If you really wanted to get something for your brother, you know you could ask your father for the money, and if it was reasonable, he’d let you buy it.”
That was true – and I acknowledged that I was just joking around. My parents weren’t ogres, and we were allowed to budget money around Christmas for gifts for the entire family. I adjusted myself slightly on the hump seat in the back of the car. The combination of the rhythm of the engine and the bumps we had hit recently had made me a little horny, and I was getting wet. I probably shouldn’t have been thinking about getting horny in the car, but you take your thrills where you can find them.
“Besides, if any girl is getting allowance in this house, it would be me, before you two slits,” Mom added with chagrin.
“You don’t have discretionary money to spend every week?” Luke was surprised. Women can’t even get credit cards without their husband co-signing. Women aren’t widely considered the best with budgets. Some of the most notoriously despised women inherited their fortune and are known for being self-indulgent and wasteful with the money.
“What planet have you be on, Luke?” Mom grinned and explained that she gets sixty dollars a week for groceries and twenty for gas. “I can barely make any of that work, because I am terrible at budgeting. Girls aren't meant to be good at math or sports, and I’ve always been terrible at both.”
“I thought you had money because you buy us snacks and sodas when we go out sometimes,” Darrin added.
“Your father approves every purchase above five dollars. I just text him what I need and why,” Mom admitted. I’ve known that for a while. Most households run that way these days.
“How does he know you aren’t lying?” Luke asked pointedly. It was shocking he’d accuse our mom of dishonesty. I saw a pained expression spread across her face.
“I suppose he doesn’t, but your Dad would figure it out if I had all these snack purchases on the debit card and it was just me and the girls out for the day,” Mom admitted patiently. I had to learn how to smile politely and not roll my eyes like my Mom did when the boys asked her a humiliating question. They were basically implying she couldn’t be trusted not to rip off our father.
“Is that why you REALLY want us to come with you grocery shopping?” Darrin flashed a cheeky smirk – suggesting Mom had an ulterior motive to her reason for bringing them.
“Yes, Darrin! You figured me out! I wanted you to come with us! It was so that I could buy a Coca Cola for me and the girls and keep your Dad from finding out,” she laughed – assuming he was being facetious.
“Then why make us come to something boring like the grocery store, and watch our dorky sisters flirt and giggle to sell half-stale Girl Scout cookies?” Luke asked – once again with a tone that suggested he was annoyed.
“I understand your frustration, Luke and I didn’t make you, I gave you a choice. I wouldn’t do that for the girls,” My mom offered in a conciliatory fashion.
“That’s because they are boring, and don’t have any interests besides cooking and cleaning, so what else better would they have to do on a beautiful Saturday afternoon?” Darrin joined in.
There were a thousand things that I could think of to do – from something simple as riding a bike, to going to the beach or on a date with a boy. My sister and I didn’t have steady boyfriends, but we usually had some new crush every few weeks who wanted to take us out on a date.
“True, your sisters and I are pretty dull. Women’s lives are about laundry, cooking, cleaning—most of us focus on the things we understand need to be done. The truth is, I do enjoy spending time with you, and it won’t be long before you’re strapping young men with wives and families of your own, with no time for your dear old mom,” Mom said, explaining we should spend time together as a family. I liked that sentiment. Mom adjusted the radio, as if she could change the topic of conversation to something less sappy by changing the station.
“Aww, just for that, I’m going to get you a ‘Best Mom Ever’ shirt for your birthday,” Luke beamed brightly.
“What’s the back going to say?” Alex chuckled playfully.
Mom glared at her in the rearview mirror. We didn’t usually dare to tease her, but it was a pretty good joke.
“It would probably say, ‘Slit with nice tits, blonde hair, and a pretty face,’” Luke smirked sardonically. He was just goofing on my mom – not being mean.
“Aww,” Mom said, her voice sweetly sarcastic. “That almost wouldn’t be totally humiliating to wear out of the house. Thank you, Luke!”
“You’re welcome,” Luke replied, grinning. “Not that you’d actually wear it. You get to pick your own clothes, and you’d never be caught dead in a t-shirt like that.”
“I’ll admit it wouldn’t be my favorite t-shirt, and I’d be mortified to wear it at my regular grocery store where everyone knows me. But contrary to what the girls probably say behind my back,” she glanced at us knowingly, “I’m not a total hypocrite. If you boys took the time to buy me something, you must have had your reasons. I’d wear it sometimes.”
“Mom, are you saying we can tease you like our sisters?” Darrin asked.
“You already do,” Mom sighed. I could tell she was uncomfortable with the topic. She was usually chipper with the boys. They’d thrown endless questions at her ever since they were little, and she normally answered them as honestly and openly as she could.
She did the same with me and my sister, but we had to frame our questions more respectfully and could never get away with pushing her buttons the way Darrin seemed to be doing. He was probably poking at her discomfort just because he could.
“You can’t talk to me like I’m your sister, because I’m not your sister. If you started treating me like you do them, you’d see me as them. Hopefully, you don’t talk to your female teachers like you do Alex and Hailey?”
“Haha, most of them aren’t as ignorant as Hailey and Alex,” Luke interjected. I tried hard not to roll my eyes. I was a solid C student, but Alex did her homework diligently and usually pulled A’s. Girls’ curriculum wasn’t as focused on science and math as boys, but we excelled at art and language.
No one would ever take a woman seriously as a scientist or an engineer. It was seen as a waste of time to teach us anything more than the basic math we needed to go shopping or follow recipe instructions.
“I’m not going to volunteer and insist you boys call me a slit, and I’d be red in the face if I wore a shirt like that today, but believe it or not, I was raised just like your sisters. I was once a girl too. I know exactly what girls do, think, and why.”
She looked at me knowingly in the rearview mirror, as if taking my measure.
“That’s why I wasn’t offended when you suggested I might try to scam your father into letting me indulge myself with something that I told him was for one of you earlier. The thought has occurred to me, and it’s a temptation. Girls do need a little extra scrutiny, or we tend to get complacent and mischievous. I’m not going to tell you that you can’t tease me when I buy you a Coke, but that I shouldn’t have one too.”
“Or that you may have kept all those Girl Scout cookies in the closet to eat them for yourself?” Luke was clearly enjoying Mom’s open admission that she’d tolerate some teasing. I’d never heard her say this before, but she’d never been asked either.
“Your father likes to exaggerate the kind of bullshit I’d pull. I wouldn’t have eaten all the cookies, but sure, I had a few for myself, and he overlooks things like that. You’re getting older now, and it’s normal for you to ask where you fit in the hierarchy around the house. If you want an honest answer, I can give you that.”
“Sure, always,” Luke and Darrin said, intrigued. I was as well, although Alex and I really weren’t included in the conversation as anything other than observers. We could have interjected if we dared.
“You’re going to have wives of your own one day and daughters, and it’s important that you learn how to manage your authority with your responsibilities. Your father didn’t just wake up one morning knowing how to be a man. He was mentored and allowed to make mistakes and develop his own style of leadership without having everything placed on his shoulders all at once. He was given a little bit at a time.”
I never thought about it like that. Dad had always been an authority figure and one of the smartest men I’d ever met. It was hard to imagine him being a twerpy little brat like Luke and Darrin at one point in his life.
Last edited by EddieDavidson on Fri Jan 24, 2025 6:34 am, edited 4 times in total.
I'm giving a Thanks to the story, but the heavy use of scatological and flatulence references and imagery detracts from it being enthusiastically
enjoyed on my part.
It's normal for the brothers to see the two girls in various stages of being undressed, but rare for Sean to witness this.
I'm hoping there is a back story to the first time Sean or another friend of the brothers became part of this relaxed and carefree
attitude (mainly by the mother) about female nudity in the house. Sean has gotten used to it...but the two girls have not.
With the mom being part of the adult supervision at the combined Boy/Girl scouting events, I can't wait for that first camping trip.
TeenFan wrote: ↑Sat Jan 18, 2025 12:46 pm
I'm giving a Thanks to the story, but the heavy use of scatological and flatulence references and imagery detracts from it being enthusiastically
enjoyed on my part.
I also gave a “thanks” and enjoyed it as I just tend to scan down when the poo/fart/fat/smelly talk begins. If the girls were forced to display their clean rosy pink strawberry smelling assholes to the room so they could be fitted for the proper size Girl Scout branded butt plugs I’d be all in I’m also just not interested in what comes out! “Butt” that’s a staple of Eddie’s stories so since that’s important to him I’m ok skipping little parts of the story. I’m also looking forward to more.
I'm mostly enjoying this story, but too much reference to pooping, farting, etc. It's a distraction.
I enjoy the descriptions of the girls' embarrassment about being looked at and freely discussed by the boys. It's also enjoyable that the girls aren't allowed to respond to the boys' taunts, except to thank them for their comments.
Twats are the names of the den mother/troop leader of girl scouts - the subtext is they were stripped of what little authority they had when the two organizations merged and reduced to den mother at best.
T.W.A.T.S Program: Traditional Women Advocating Training and Submission
________________________________________
Leadership Structure within the Combined Troop:
The T.W.A.T.S Program outlines a structured, traditional hierarchy for leadership within the combined Boy Scout and Girl Scout Troops. The program is designed to emphasize traditional values of submission, humility, and responsibility, with each position carefully delineated.
Hierarchy/Chain of Command:
1. Scout Master – Senior Leader of both the Boy Scout and Girl Scout Troops (formerly the Scout Master of the Boy Scout Troop). The Scout Master is the ultimate authority over both Troops, responsible for leadership and decision-making.
2. Assistant/Deputy Scout Master – Acts as the assistant to the Senior Scout Master. The Deputy Scout Master helps manage troop operations and assists in leadership functions.
3. Youth Patrol Leaders – Senior Boy Scouts and Eagle Scouts who have distinguished themselves and are delegated responsibility by the Scout Master. These leaders have the authority to lead younger scouts and help with day-to-day troop activities.
Staff Roles (May be filled as needed by male volunteers):
• Historian: Keeps records of troop activities, achievements, and historical details of the troop.
• Bugler: Responsible for playing ceremonial calls, maintaining troop morale, and marking key moments in troop activities.
• Supply Master: Oversees the management and distribution of materials, including equipment, uniforms, and camp gear.
________________________________________
T.W.A.T.S / Den Mothers
Effective immediately, all TGS Troop Leader positions will be referred to as T.W.A.T.S (Traditional Women Advocating Training and Submission) or “Den Mother.” This role serves specific purposes within the larger organization, working under the authority of male leaders.
Role and Responsibilities:
• No Authority in the TBS Organization: The T.W.A.T.S (Den Mother) holds no direct authority within the Boy Scout Troop (TBS) but plays a key role in supporting and advocating for the Troop’s leadership.
• Support and Praise: As cheerleaders, the Den Mothers are tasked with praising the efforts of the Boy Scout Troop, ensuring that the boys receive the support and recognition they deserve.
• Organizing and Arranging: Den Mothers are responsible for organizing activities such as snacks, clean-up after meetings, and assisting with tasks delegated by the Scout Master and Patrol Leaders.
• Delegated Responsibilities: They will carry out responsibilities delegated to them, such as managing specific events, assigning tasks to the girls, and ensuring that troop needs are met.
• Modeling Behavior: The T.W.A.T.S (Den Mother) should model behaviors and values within the Girl Scout organization, and not those within the Boy Scouts organization to avoid any gender confusion.
________________________________________
Role of the T.W.A.T.S Troop Leader:
The T.W.A.T.S Troop Leader is a senior leadership position within the Traditional Girl Scout (TGS) program, primarily for women guiding older girls. This role combines authority over the Girl Scouts with an obligation to submit to the higher-ranking male figures (Scout Master and Patrol Leaders) for troop activities and overall troop direction.
Program Overview:
• Deferring Leadership to the Scout Master: The T.W.A.T.S. Troop Leader defers leadership to the Scout Master, who oversees and directs all troop activities, ensuring that the focus remains on traditional values, responsibility, and leadership.
• Den Mother Role: The T.W.A.T.S. Troop Leader acts as a Den Mother for both the Girl Scout and Boy Scout Troops. In this role, she manages the girls’ activities, ensuring that their behavior aligns with the Girl Scouts’s core values of submission, humility, and respect for authority.
• Submission to Leadership: The T.W.A.T.S. Troop Leader ensures that the girls in her care understand and submit to the leadership structure established by the Scout Master and Patrol Leaders, helping them grow in responsibility and humility.
Training and Discipline:
• The T.W.A.T.S. Troop Leader is responsible for training the girls in traditional values, focusing on humility, responsibility, and submission to male authority.
• She provides mentorship, guidance, and discipline as necessary, ensuring that the girls adhere to the family’s expectations while preparing them for their duties within the broader societal structure.
• Discipline within the Girl Scout Troop is handled by the T.W.A.T.S. Leader, but she must always defer to the Scout Master’s decisions and guidance.
• T.W.A.T.S Troop Leader may be subject to discipline by the Scout Master as an example to Girl Scouts under their leadership, as carried about the Scout Master or delegated authority (patrol leaders).
________________________________________
Role in the Troop:
• Affiliation with Boy Scout Troops:
o All TGS (Traditional Girl Scout) Troops are directly affiliated with a Brother Boy Scout Troop. The T.W.A.T.S. Troop Leader will work closely with the Scout Master and assist in organizing joint activities between the Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts.
• Girls’ Submission to the Scout Master:
o Girls are expected to submit to the leadership of the Scout Master in all matters related to troop activities, while the T.W.A.T.S. Troop Leader focuses on their individual growth and responsibility within the Girl Scouts framework.
• Guiding Leadership Development:
o The T.W.A.T.S. Troop Leader helps the girls develop leadership skills by encouraging them to take responsibility within the TGS Troop, while reinforcing the values of obedience, humility, and respect for male authority.
The main reason I wrote this was for myself to keep things straight as a reference - but also because I wanted to clarify that there are no 1st-3rd ranks in these troops (Brownies, Daisys and Such).
Guide to Conduct and Structure of Senior Troops – Linked Troops
Introduction
The Traditional Girl Scout (TGS) and Traditional Boy Scout (TBS) programs are organized into segmented groups to ensure focus, discipline, and the proper separation of ranks. Senior Troops consist exclusively of scouts in ranks 4th through 6th, ensuring maturity and alignment with the advanced values and expectations of the program. This segmentation ensures activities and responsibilities are appropriate for scouts at higher ranks while fostering leadership, teamwork, and discipline.
________________________________________
Troop Structure
Senior Troops operate independently from Junior Troops, with no overlap of ranks. The segmentation ensures that all members are appropriately experienced and mature enough to meet the advanced expectations of Senior Troops.
• Senior Girl Scout Ranks:
o Cadettes (4th Rank)
o Seniors (5th Rank)
o Ambassadors (6th Rank)
• Senior Boy Scout Ranks:
o First-Class (4th Rank)
o Star (5th Rank)
o Life/Eagle (6th Rank)
Ranks are earned designations that reflect knowledge, leadership, and maturity. They do not imply direct authority over peers but are recognized with additional responsibilities and privileges.
________________________________________
Roles and Responsibilities
Senior Girl Scouts
Senior Girl Scouts are responsible for completing tasks that reflect their commitment to humility, obedience, and discipline. They serve as examples of grace and composure within the troop while fulfilling supportive roles during joint activities.
• Primary Responsibilities:
o Domestic and Logistical Tasks:
Handle food preparation, service, and cleanup during troop activities.
Manage troop supplies, ensuring everything is organized and accounted for.
Maintain cleanliness in troop spaces, such as meeting halls or campsites.
o Support Roles:
Assist in carrying out instructions provided by troop leaders or Senior Boy Scouts.
Participate in affirmation rituals and ceremonial tasks with full focus and dedication.
Provide encouragement and support to peers during collaborative activities.
________________________________________
Senior Boy Scouts
Senior Boy Scouts are responsible for guiding and mentoring during troop activities. Their role emphasizes leadership and cooperation, ensuring tasks are completed efficiently and respectfully.
• Primary Responsibilities:
o Leadership Roles:
Lead physical or technical tasks requiring strength or advanced skills, such as setting up equipment or constructing camp structures.
Offer guidance to Senior Girl Scouts during joint activities, fostering collaboration and teamwork.
o Mentorship:
Provide constructive feedback to peers, focusing on personal growth and improvement.
Demonstrate proper conduct and discipline to inspire confidence and respect within the troop.
o Support Tasks:
Assist troop leaders and the Scout Master in managing activities and ensuring smooth operations.
________________________________________
Behavior Expectations
Senior Girl Scouts
• Adhere to all uniform and presentation guidelines, maintaining a polished and appropriate appearance.
• Follow instructions from troop leaders, the Scout Master, and Senior Boy Scouts without hesitation or resistance.
• Accept teasing, corrections, and feedback with grace and humility, recognizing these interactions as part of the troop’s collaborative process.
• Demonstrate patience and composure during all activities, even under scrutiny or discomfort.
Senior Boy Scouts
• Set a positive example through focus, discipline, and respect during all activities.
• Use teasing and playful interactions constructively, reinforcing the values of humility and obedience among Senior Girl Scouts.
• Avoid unnecessary distractions or disruptions during collaborative tasks, prioritizing troop goals and responsibilities.
• Provide guidance and support to Senior Girl Scouts without overstepping boundaries or undermining the troop’s hierarchy.
Last edited by EddieDavidson on Wed Jan 22, 2025 1:07 am, edited 5 times in total.
Looking forward to reading the reworked chapters, but first I want to say I love this type of situation. The first story I started here back in
2022 is called "Scouts at Girl Camp". Three poor boys end up having to spend the week at a Girl's Camp. It was the first time I wrote a short
story in many years, so I was quite rusty with the skills in that one.
For those who were never in Scouting, back in the 80s (don't know about how it was done later than that) each boy and scout master had to
get a physical before going to Summer camp. The troop would arrange for a doctor to do a quickie physical of each of us. One time the doctor
got me (when I was a young Assistant Scoutmaster) and five other boys together in a room. Everyone first had to stand in a circle around the
doctor, then we had to drop our trousers and underwear at the same time as the doc went from one guy to another to do a test that required
some coughing on our part.
I wonder how Hailey and Alex will be treated in such a scenario???
I made the probably unpopular decision to include an excerpt from the Girl Scout Handbook - but I enjoyed writing it and feel it's appropriate here.
“Today, you stepped up in the kitchen and called your sister’s disgusting armpits out, but you were really ridiculing me for not checking up on them and being lax. I don’t mind that, because it keeps me honest, even though I was pretty red in the face and a little mad at the time. I’ve had time to reflect on it. I appreciate a little help around the house with the girls.”
“We didn’t mean to get you in trouble,” Darrin said.
“You should always be honest, Darrin. If I get in trouble because you were honest, and I deserve it, I promise you I will never be angry with you, even if it seems that way. I’ll be angry with myself. Your dad suggested he might ask you boys to check up on us. I think that’s why he also wanted you to come with us today, to be honest.”
Mom parked the car. We were already at Publix. “Alright, girls, break time is over. Hop out, grab the table, the flyers, and the cookies, and set up in front of the grocery store.”
Chapter 2
The Saturday morning sun was already warm in Naples, Florida, with the parking lot at Publix bustling with cars and shoppers. It was just after 10 a.m., and the seagulls were circling above, competing with crows for scraps. Alex and I were in our snug Girl Scout uniforms, while Mom, who had a uniform of her own, opted for her usual blouse and skirt instead.
I’m not exactly sure what fabric a Girl Scout uniform is made of, but the pleated skirt and sleeveless tunic always seemed to shrink slightly whenever I started sweating in the Florida heat. The material is scratchy and resilient, designed for durability against rips and tears rather than comfort.
The saddle shoes I had on were a bit too tight, but I could still walk in them. I was certain Alex’s big bird feet had grown even more than mine had since we got them last year.
My brothers were comfortably dressed in T-shirts and jeans. This wasn’t our first time selling cookies here, and I knew the drill—most customers would pay with cash or through Google Pay on Mom’s phone.
Alex and I had our hands full, lugging the heavy table toward the setup area. Mom carried the cash box, and the boys strolled behind us empty-handed. In fairness, no one had asked my brothers to help, but the sight of their casual pace only added to my annoyance. We still had several more trips to make before everything was in place.
“Okay, you three slits, good luck selling your Girl Scout cookies,” Darrin was obviously testing my mom by pushing her buttons to see if she kept her promise that she wouldn’t lose her temper if he called her a slit. I was used to my brothers calling me much worse at home – so slit really wasn’t that big of a deal to me.
However, it was kind of funny watching my Mom react awkwardly to my brothers being so bold.
I could tell that Mom wanted to say something to him—maybe passive-aggressively threaten him or say she’d had a change of heart. I liked that look on her face when she realized her son was talking down to her. It happened to me all the time when my little brothers talked down to me. For some reason, I was thrilled to be called a slit if my mom was included.
I guess it was just the ‘turn the tables’ nature of how she had to accept it that made it seem funny to me.
“What are you smiling about, Hailey?” my mom glowered at me—unable to fire off a response at Darrin.
“I’m just smiling because I’m a dumb bimbo and a slit with tits.”
“With no tits,” Mom half-smiled. I could see she wasn’t really mad at me, and she was more or less commiserating with me.
I glanced at Alex; we could often communicate wordlessly through a look. I think she realized our Mom was bristling about having been spoken down to by our brothers. Mom frequently spoke about the expectations for females in society, and I’ve seen her let men talk down to her many times in the past. I’ve never seen my brothers test her like that before, though. Things seemed different for them now that they were in high school, even though the school year had just begun.
Respect for Others
Excerpt from the Eight Traditional Core Pillars of the Girl Scouts:
A Scout places respect for others above her own desires for dignity or pride, reflecting the core values of humility and service. Pridefulness is seen as vanity, which undermines the harmony and hierarchy within the Girl Scouts. A Scout must embrace humility as a virtue, accepting corrections, guidance, and teasing without resorting to sarcastic or snarky retorts.
When faced with teasing or correction, a Girl Scout must maintain composure and humility. Argumentative or passive-aggressive responses are not permitted. Instead, gratitude for the attention and guidance provided by her betters should be evident, ensuring that such interactions remain constructive and positive. A Girl Scout is expected to respond politely and diligently to any name she is addressed as, regardless of its nature, to reflect her acceptance of humility and role within the hierarchy.
By prioritizing respect for others and accepting their role within the structure of the troop and society, Scouts embody the values of humility, discipline, and service that define the Girl Scouts program.
A Girl Scout is expected to process her internal emotions, such as frustration, embarrassment, or pride, through the lens of humility, discipline, and service. While these feelings may arise naturally, they must not manifest as outward complaints, defiance, or vanity. It is not fair to others to lash out at them to make the Girl Scouts feel better by knocking others down or to release their pent-up anger.
A Girl Scout is never to learn to shield her sense of self-worth, dignity, or vulnerability by engaging in apathy or adopting philosophies that allow them to ignore embarrassment by not caring what people say or do. The old nursery rhyme “Sticks and Stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me” removes the ability to discipline a Girl Scout through more gentle means such as humiliation and only allows the use of physical forms of punishment such as sticks and stones.
Such philosophies undermine the effectiveness of discipline by encouraging detachment rather than engagement, reducing the Scout’s ability to grow from correction, teasing, or public accountability.
Instead, a Girl Scout is taught to accept that humiliation, when constructive, is a tool for fostering self-awareness and responsibility. By facing her emotions openly and without resistance, she demonstrates courage and commitment to her role within the troop and society. Rejecting apathy ensures that she remains receptive to guidance, enabling gentler disciplinary methods to be effective and minimizing the need for harsher measures.
The Founder of the Girl Scouts shown here with one of her favorite live-in Scouts:
[[[ image 02_daisy.jpg goes here centered ]]]
Girl Scouts are also encouraged to embrace the philosophy of the founder of the Traditional Girl Scouts, Juliette “Daisy” Low. The philosophy of “Don’t like it? Tough Titty, Too bad, so sad,” recognizing that discomfort and challenges are integral to growth and discipline and that the place of women in the hierarchy is a foundation upon which harmony can be achieved and strife can be avoided by not allowing women to engage in delusions of equality to men, female empowerment, or feminism that can only lead to strife when genetic and historical evidence has determined that the natural order is preserved when everyone accepts their role.
Girl Scouts must learn to accept and encourage the behaviors and values of the Girl Scouts without rebellion, opposition and, anger, or jealousy about privileges that were never intended for them. Appropriate ways to manage these feelings can be found through journaling their daily observations and activities, even if their life is relatively mundane and of little interest to others.
SELLING OUR COOKIES
We set up our table at the grocery store, arranging the supplies in a way that would hopefully attract attention. Mom directed us where to put the Girl Scout banners, and my brothers hung around for a few minutes to watch before getting bored.
“Okay, boys, I won’t make you hang out with us the entire time, but thank you for coming with me today! You can go explore the shopping plaza, and I’ll text you in a few hours to let you know when we’re wrapping up. Feel free to check in with us anytime! Sound good?”
My brothers nodded, clearly eager to escape the tedium. “Sounds good, Mom,” Luke said, already turning toward the pizza place down the way. Darrin gave us a lazy wave. “Good luck selling your cookies, slits!” he called back, grinning as he walked off.
As Alex fastened a Girl Scout flag to the table, she glanced toward Mom, trying not to expose her panties by bending at the waist in a short skirt. Her discomfort reminded me that I didn’t even wear panties today. I immediately stood up straight and pulled my skirt hem down a bit. I could feel the warm arm on the bottom of my butt cheeks.
My Girl Scout skirt rode up in the back, and I had to adjust it every few minutes, or it would reveal more and more of my butt crack.
We were already getting attention from mostly older men ogling us. “Mom,” Alex said, her voice low but curious, “I know why my brothers tease me, but you were clearly uncomfortable being called a slit. Why did you volunteer to let them call you that if you don’t have to?”
“The boys are getting older and in high school now. There are things women just have to accept, and one is that guys are going to stare at us,” she looked up and smiled politely at a man who was gawking at the three of us. She stopped responding to my sister and apologized politely for the delay. She told him we’d be set up soon and offered to sell him some cookies right now if he couldn’t wait.
“I was staring at your asses! I don’t want to buy a lot of cookies from you! You are all too old to be Girl Scouts, especially the blonde. You aren’t fooling anyone!”
It wasn’t uncommon for a man to be crude like that to women in public, and Mom didn’t seem offended at all by the comment about her age. She didn’t correct him and tell him she is a Troop Leader. She didn’t explain that Girl Scouts are just like Boy Scouts in that the Program runs through High School. Most people drop out by the time they go to high school, but our Senior Troop (Ranks 4-7) had 18 girls in it.
She smiled at him and thanked him politely. “Take a good long look then, Sir. Look all you want – we’ll be here setting up.”
Mom didn’t say anything passive-aggressive or pissy about being “sorry she was too old for him.” She simply accepted the taunt. It doesn’t mean she liked it or wasn’t insulted or embarrassed. It meant that my mom believed men should be able to make comments like that about our looks without repercussion – as simple as that.
My mom was almost always chipper and polite to men in general and even other women most of the time. She could be strict with us and lose her patience, but that was most mothers, I assume.
Once he walked out of earshot, she continued her conversation with Alex. “If I’m not going to raise my voice and be a bitch to a total stranger for calling me a name, what should I do if your brothers call me a slit? I don’t care about that man, and I love your brothers. Why should I hold them to a different standard?”
“I guess not,” Alex replied. She had forgotten she was wearing a short skirt and was bending over at the waist. I could see her panties peeping out of the back of her skirt. I didn’t interrupt to warn her because my mom was talking.
[[[ image 02_Alex.jpg goes here centered ]]]
“Should I say that my pussy is different and special, and they’ll hurt my feelings if they remind me that I am not a man? I saw you both grin like your dad just gave you an allowance and bought you a new cell phone on top of it when they called me a slit in the parking lot. Don’t deny it!”
We couldn’t help it—we grinned again. My sister stood up, straightened the back of her skirt, and continued setting up the cookies.
“We actually spoil you girls a bit. You think you have it so rough because you get teased a little and have to do housework. There are a lot of girls who wish they had their own bedroom to share with only one other sister and all the freedoms we give you. If the worst thing that ever happens to you is someone calling you a rude name, then you’ve had a good life, I’d say.”
We nodded and agreed with her demurely. She was right, of course.
“Alright, girls, enough showing off and wiggling your fat butts so that men can check out your cute little apple bottoms; we’ve got cookies to sell and work to do.” Mom implied my sister, and I had been showing off on purpose for attention. “We’ve got a few more trips to make!” She kept the cash box close at hand, and we walked back to the car.
Alex decided to ask another question. “Mom, you said we have it so good. Are there girls who actually get allowances?”
Mom gave a low laugh as if the thought of it amused her. “Probably rich little bitches who are spoiled rotten. Girls don’t need allowances any more than they need modesty. We love you too much to spoil you.”
I raised an eyebrow because the way my mom explained it sounded like a double standard. I had never really questioned why I didn’t get an allowance before. It was just always that way. “But aren’t you spoiling the boys rotten by giving THEM an allowance? They get phones AND an allowance.”
Mom turned to face us as we walked, eyes narrowed with a smirk playing at the corner of her lips.
“This is a question probably best asked of your father because all things considered, I’d love to have an allowance myself. I’ve never had one before I was married, and that didn’t change after I married your father. Allowances for boys are meant to help boys pursue their goals—save up for tools, hobbies, or whatever they decide to put their minds to. The money would be spent anyway on those things. This just makes it so that your brothers don’t have to keep asking your father and have more choices on when to spend it and on what.”
I wanted to point out that we could do the same thing, but my Mom wasn’t finished speaking, and I didn’t want to interrupt.
“You girls already have your needs covered, and if you want anything extra, you just have to ask. If your father thinks you actually need it, then he’ll tell me to buy it for you. I’ll be honest—girls just aren’t trusted to have the good sense to know what to do with their money. You’d blow it on something frivolous like makeup, wouldn’t you?”
Alex shot her a defiant look. “So, what if I did? The allowance would be my money and my choice to make, wouldn’t it?”
Mom chuckled again. “I’m starting to wonder if you’ve been listening to progressive television,” she teased. She knew full well we didn’t watch much television, and we certainly didn’t get to pick the programs the family watched. “It’s not YOUR money; you didn’t earn it. Your father did. It’s his choice to give us an allowance, but he doesn’t. You still get money spent on you. You just have to do an extra verification step—why you really need it. If it’s a want, you probably won’t get it, Alex. Let’s be honest, if we had money, wouldn’t we buy some Haagen-Dazs right now?”
Alex gave a dramatic sigh, “Would it be so bad if we could have ice cream today? It’s hot, and we’ve got a lot of work to do. We could have it as a reward?” she suggested sweetly.
“Alex, where is this coming from all of a sudden? Now, you are acting like a self-indulgent little princess who wants Ice Cream before you will do what you are supposed to do?” Mom was more than a little worried about the question. “You’ve already had your reward—it’s called a roof over your head, food in your belly, and the clothes on your back. You don’t get rewards for doing what’s expected of you.”
I wondered the same thing. My sister's questions might have been as a result of my brothers deciding to push their luck with mom’s goodwill toward being called a slit. It seemed like my little sister may have had these questions before today and she just never asked them. She had hung around with some neighbor girls over the summer, and they may have put these thoughts in her head as well.
“I am not trying to be a brat, Mom!” Alex said as she carried the heavy boxes of cookies pressed to her chest, and we walked through the busy parking lot. “it’s just that today, you said the boys are getting older, so they get to do a little more. They have roofs over their heads and food in their bellies and all that – so why do THEY need a reward?”
“Look,” Mom started, her tone measured but direct, “I asked the same questions when I was your age, and I’ll tell you what my mom told me. You might hate it, and you might disagree, you can get angry or cry like a bitch, you can curse the fates, you can wish on every star at night, but boys and girls are born different and that’s nature.”
“I am not trying to deny nature, Mom. I am just wondering why boys spending the money how they want, is different for girls.”
“I don’t know where this is coming from; it should be fairly obvious that men are the ones who govern and run things. There are no women principals, presidents, or CEOs, just like there are no male mothers or maids. It’s the natural order of things. Men have invented every technology because they are better at engineering and science. That’s not a coincidence, Alex.”
“We don’t get taught the advanced math or science, Mom,” I pointed out.
“Not you, too? Suddenly, the women’s lib has invaded the Girl Scouts?” Mom laughed and held up her hands like she was surrendering. “You can barely pass the basic math and science classes you are in. How would you do in a Boy’s math or science class?”
Mom had a good point. I withdrew my objection.
“Your father handles making the money. He sends me to the grocery store to buy the food. We each have our talents and contribute to the house according to our ability to contribute. He handles the big picture stuff, and I am a detail person,” Mom’s explanation made a lot of sense. I think Alex could see that as well. She wasn’t arguing in the first place; she had only been asking questions.
“You don’t NEED money. You WANT money because you like to want things, Alex. Just like you don’t need modesty—if someone sees your boobs or butt or calls you a twat—it’s because you are a twat. You don’t need ice cream; you’ll survive without it. Boys get indulged now and then because they’re ambitious, and they get better toys than us. It’s fair, though, because it’s the same for all girls—with the exception of a couple of spoiled brats who bitched and got their way.”
“I am sorry for asking, Mom. That makes sense,” Alex apologized.
“No need to apologize for asking a question if you don’t know the answer. The dumbest girls are the ones who don’t even do that much. I’m flattered you both asked me and not your father. I think he may have put it a little more bluntly.”
“Yeah, blunt like a paddle on a butt,” I quipped.
“Your father is not an unreasonable man, and I know you are being facetious, but he would never spank you for asking a question respectfully if you really don’t know the answer. Your brothers are a year younger than you, and they are starting to ask more questions, too. Boys mature faster than we do, so it’s only natural you’d have things you’re still figuring out.”
“I appreciate it, Mom,” Alex expressed gratitude.
Mom gave a dry laugh and added, “You should learn to appreciate the privileges that YOU do get—and find ways to take pleasure in simple things. We do get ice cream sometimes. We just don’t get to open the ice box and take it out whenever we want. We’d be fat as hell if we did that.”
“We have to get straight A’s for an entire year to get Ice Cream!” Alex pointed out.
“Positive reinforcement isn’t about creating a bunch of spoiled brats who expect a cookie every time they do their job. It’s about recognizing when someone really earns it—when they’ve made themselves an example for others to follow. The rewards are small because they’re not the point. The point is doing what’s expected, knowing your place, and maybe getting a nod for going the extra mile,” My Mom added.
I hadn’t thought about it like that – it actually did make sense. My sister seemed to agree with the logic of the differences between men and women as well. Mom stayed back at the booth while my sister and I grabbed the remaining boxes from the car.
“Too much ice cream is too much of a good thing,” Mom slapped her flat stomach and turned to Alex with a teasing grin. “And you definitely don’t need any more fat on that big old bubble butt, Alex.”
Positive Reinforcement
Excerpted from the Girl Scout Disciplinary Plan:
While discipline is a cornerstone to the program, positive reinforcement is used to encourage exceptional behavior and adherence to values. Rewards are small but meaningful and are designed to acknowledge achievements while maintaining focus on humility and responsibility.
A Girl Scout should not rely upon positive reinforcement as their primary reason for adherence to the values and pledge.
It is essential that rewards not create a “star” mentality for well-behaved Girl Scouts.
“Elevating individual achievements above the troop and placing Girl Scouts on pedestals for admiration can be like “too much ice cream” – too much of a good thing.”
---Juliette “Daisy” Low
Examples of Rewards:
• A single cookie or dessert item.
• Two scoops of ice cream during a troop gathering.
• Two hours of recreational time, such as television or games.
• Permission to wear a specific item of clothing for a limited time, such as a modest dress or comfortable shoes, as a reward for exceptional behavior.
• Inclusion of their photo on a designated "Wall of Recognition" within the troop’s meeting area.
• Removal of their photo from a designated “Wall of Shame” within the troop’s meeting area.
Positive reinforcement may be granted when a Girl Scout demonstrates exceptional behavior or performance in one or more of the following areas:
• Sales Excellence: Surpassing assigned cookie sale quotas within the specified timeframe.
• Academic Achievement: Maintaining straight A’s in approved female educational courses, as recognized by the Scout Leader for the entire Academic Year.
• Attendance and Conduct: Achieving perfect attendance and exemplary behavior at all troop meetings and activities and school for the entire Academic Year.
• Leadership and Teamwork: Modeling appropriate Girl Scout behavior, teamwork, and skills that contribute meaningfully to the troop’s success.
• Recognition by Authority Figures: Receiving a positive endorsement from Scout Leaders or Patrol Leaders for outstanding actions or contributions.
• Truthful and Constructive Reporting: Appropriately and truthfully reporting the misbehavior of other Girl Scouts, provided the confession is supported by evidence and serves the greater good of troop discipline. Retaliatory confessions are not encouraged, even if they are truthful.
Extending Discipline Beyond Troop Activities
Families of Girl Scouts are strongly encouraged to implement the Disciplinary Plan at home as a means of creating a consistent, stable, and disciplined environment. This alignment ensures that the values instilled during official troop activities—such as obedience, humility, and responsibility—are reinforced in daily life, fostering seamless continuity between home and the troop.
By adopting the same principles and practices at home, families help the Girl Scouts adapt fully to the expectations of the program, avoiding the pitfalls of inconsistency or confusion. This approach establishes clear boundaries, predictable routines, and a disciplined mindset that supports the Girl Scout in embodying her values at all times.
Daily reinforcement of troop values ensures these principles become second nature, preparing the Girl Scout for success not only within the program but also in her future roles as a wife, mother, and a disciplined homemaker. By embracing these values early, she will be well-equipped to maintain harmony and structure in her household, fulfill her responsibilities with grace, and contribute meaningfully to her family’s success.
FINISHING UNPACKING OUR LOAD
On the final trip back to the car, Alex walked alongside me, her arms full of cookie boxes. She let out a soft sigh, glancing sideways at me. "Sorry about that," she said.
I blinked at her, confused. "Sorry about what?"
"For opening my big mouth today." She hesitated, her eyes shifting to the ground before continuing. "I don’t know why I asked those questions. Obviously, if we were supposed to have ice cream anytime that we wanted, we would."
"Well, even our brothers would probably get told no if they tried that," I replied. I adjusted the box in my hands, feeling its weight against my chest. "Besides, with the way they eat, they’d give themselves stomachaches."
Alex snorted a laugh. "That’s probably why they don’t let us have chocolate ice cream. If we did, I’d probably be fatter than I am now."
I glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. "You’re not fat. You’re just chubby."
My sister really wasn’t fat at all – but she definitely thought she was.
"Oh, please!" Alex shot back, rolling her eyes. "You sit on my lap in the car, and I’m your little sister. Let’s face it—I’m just a big-butt, big-tit cow monster."
“‘Big-butt, big-tit cow monster?’” I teased, letting the words linger with a laugh. “Don’t let Luke and Darrin hear you say that. They’d slap it on a t-shirt and make you wear it.”
Alex rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide a slight smirk. “Like you wouldn’t laugh yourself silly if they actually did.”
As we loaded the last of the boxes from the car and headed back toward the booth, the conversation didn’t drop there. “Do you really think they’d make us wear shirts with “Slits with Tits” on them, though?” Alex asked.
She wasn’t freaking out about it, but I could tell she knew it was a real possibility for us at school. My brothers were just starting high school this year – there was no telling what might happen.
“You know Luke and Darrin—always talking big, but they wouldn’t make us wear slit shirts to school? That girl Becky Johnson is a laughing stock! I half expect to see her wear a dunce cap to school one day with bells around her neck,” My sister joked. I couldn’t imagine something that absurd even at our school.
“Mom is pretty serious that she’d make us wear it if they bought the shirts – just out of gratitude -whether we were really grateful or not. Dad doesn’t get into the details of how things work,” I admitted that I wasn’t sure. I didn’t want to freak out about something outside of my control. “A t-shirt isn’t as bad as taking my panties, anyway,” I adjusted my skirt in the back again to pull the hem down.
As we carried all the boxes of cookies back to the table, I noticed a tall, handsome guy on the sidewalk, his athletic frame standing out even from a distance. He moved with that casual confidence that made you want to look twice. Alex straightened up immediately, smoothing her hair and tugging at her shirt. “Do you think that guy is into big-titty cow monsters?” she whispered with a wicked grin. “Because I could really use some cock right about now.”
We weren’t scared virgins by any stretch of the imagination. We were forbidden from masturbating at home, but we did it pretty much every night in our room or the bathroom. We were also into guys, and sometimes other girls – and this guy was hot enough I’d probably have shared him with my sister if he could handle it.
I snorted, barely able to keep a straight face. “Why not go ask him? Flash a smile, bat your lashes—you might be his type.”
Alex nudged me with her elbow, her voice low but playful. “You know I would, but what’s the point? Even if I got his attention, I don’t have a phone to give him my number. What am I supposed to do, hand him a Girl Scout cookie and hope for the best?”
“I suppose you could hope Mom gives us a break and see if he wants the cookie between your legs and not the one in the box?” I teased playfully.
“You whore!” she gave me a playful grin.
“Whores charge for sex, and I’ve got no money at all,” I patted my skirt – it didn’t even have pockets. The designers of Girl Scout Uniforms assumed we’d store everything in our tunics.
She sighed dramatically, her cheeks pink. “It’s been a while since I have had a good fucking. Do you think if we ask Mom instead of Haagen Daas, she’d let us chat this guy up? I could give him our address and ask him to pick me up?”
“You could tell him to come by our window around 10 pm and sneak out?” I mused. The idea of sneaking out was a frequent fantasy of ours, but neither of us had ever dared.
We didn’t act upon our fantasy, but we definitely thought about it. Mom was livid that we took so long to bring back the boxes and threatened to spank us right there in front of Publix. I could imagine that cute boy walking up while our butts were getting tanned -we’d look like dumb bratty girls with our skirts pulled down and rosy-red cheeks. We quickly apologized and set up to make our first sale.
Alex surprised me by asking Mom another question. She wanted to know if we could ever have phones of our own. “There is a box of old phones at the house that you guys didn’t turn in when you upgraded. Even one of those would be nice,” she pleaded.
I knew that my little sister was asking because she wanted boys to be able to call her. I also knew that Mom was going to shut her down, but I didn’t interject.
“No. Phones aren’t a necessity for you girls. That’s an extra line that your father would have to pay for. If you need to make a call, you ask me, and if there’s an emergency, I’m right here. Your brothers have their phones because they’re expected to keep in touch with their responsibilities. You would probably just use yours to snap nudie pictures to send to guys on Instagram and waste time you could be spending on your studies or housework.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” my sister pouted and nodded. The Girl Scouts look down on technology for girls. We are generally expected to make do with whatever is at hand and old-fashioned technology.
“If you want to pout, I’ll give you something to pout about! No one is going to buy cookies from Girl Scouts that look like they are pissed off little bitches,” Mom said. We had to put on what she called our “Cheerleader” faces – big smiles and happy expressions.
That’s precisely why my sister and I did. We weren’t faking, though – today was Saturday, and we were out of the house, not doing chores, engaged in the time-honored tradition of Girl Scouts – selling our cookies!!
I am not going to pretend that it was a slog selling our cookies. I am not going to say that we felt overwhelmed or ask for sympathy. My sister and I have been selling cookies since our first days as Girl Scouts. Handsy-perverted men are part of the territory and at least most of them are straightforward about what they want.
It’s always a fresh humiliation, and as we develop into young women, they get a little bolder and less subtle. However, I was raised to understand that men are going to want a good look at women’s body parts. It’s best to smile and let them have it rather than put on airs and hide yourself away.
The women who tease men are the kind that get abducted. I am not sure what type of woman is more universally maligned in our society. Bitches who yell and throw tantrums are probably at the top of the list. Women who demand equality with men and other malarky are often put into the same category even if they don’t argue and whine about unfairness. It’s like an orange comparing itself to an apple and saying it should be treated the same way. Usually, these women are also intellectuals who want to be engineers and doctors even though they know that no employer is going to want to hire them because no one would trust a woman to do that kind of work.
The Tale Of the Prodigal Daughter: Skubalon from the House of Malakos
A Fairy Tale Told To Girls Before Bedtime:
There are privileged women that are spoiled by their indulgent fathers and husbands. I grew up hearing the parable about the prodigal daughter Skubalon.
A devoted father named Malakos lavished his daughter with wealth and freedom. He treated her with the same trust he gave his sons—but made her do nothing in return for his gifts.
Each time she got what she wanted, she wanted more. Her father wanted to please his demanding daughter and eventually started taking from his sons to grant her wishes, thinking it would satisfy her.
It didn’t. Once she got even more of what she wanted, she didn’t want it anymore. She wanted something else. If she wanted a garden with roses, fountains, and fruit trees, he’d have the finest gardeners tend it for her. Once she tired of it, she wanted it all uprooted and replaced with a marble plaza, golden statues, exotic birds, and entertainers for her amusement.
Skubalon was fair in her youth. She was certainly not the most attractive of all women in the city. She insisted that her father buy her the most expensive silks, jewelry and vanity to compensate so that she could consider herself the fairest of all women.
There was a young serving girl in her father’s villa who was naturally beautiful. She insisted that the girl be disfigured so that she would not have anyone who rivaled her. The father begged for mercy for the serving girl, but his daughter would not abide that.
Malakos controlled the central market of the city, with a reputation for fair dealings with traders. Skubalon’s father had the serving girl sold to a passing trader to save her from his daughter’s wrath.
His daughter said she would not forgive him for defying her, and her wailing lasted seven days and seven nights until Malakos agreed to give her an inheritance greater than all of his sons and wife combined.
She was so bitter, so demanding, so cruel that no man wanted to marry her for any dowry despite her beauty. Skubalon was her father’s only daughter, and he wanted her happiness above all else. If he did not make her happy, she would cry false tears and scream in rage until he gave into her selfish demands.
Skubalon’s talent as a singer and dancer was so poor that Malakos had to hire poor workers to praise her grace, poise, and beauty. Any endeavor that she pursued, Malakos made sure that someone was there to say it was the most extraordinary treasure.
Malakos funded great expeditions for his daughter to travel the world. When she bored of the travel between cities – he paid to have replicas of ancient wonders constructed outside his villa for her amusement.
There was nothing that could satisfy the prodigal daughter, but her devoted father tried anyway until he finally passed away. When he died, she was too busy with extravagant feasts to attend his funeral ceremony.
Skubalon demanded her share of the inheritance from her mother, and when that was not enough to sustain her luxurious lifestyle, she demanded her mother’s share as well. If she didn’t get what she wanted, she threw a tantrum so great that it shook the very foundation of her father’s home. She left her mother and the rest of the family destitute.
The House of Malakos crumbled and would be remembered for all time as morally weak and associated with the worst traits of fathers and daughters. The sons of Malakos were too poor to stop her and too afraid to prevent her from seizing their father’s wealthy businesses. She insisted on raising the prices in the market and had a great throne built in the center of the market where she could sit and lord over others like a Pharaoh.
She demanded samples of the finest perfumes and sweetmeats for the simple favor of being permitted to trade in the City Market. She forbade anyone in the city from using the central well in the marketplace and instead made them trudge outside the city to bring water back in buckets.
The prodigal daughter could not abide any other woman in the city who was more attractive, graceful, or talented, so she had them enslaved and sold—even her own mother and the wives of her brothers. She ended the line of her father as she would not procreate, and her sons were too poor to buy their wives out of bondage.
She manipulated the magistrate to arrest any of her brothers who tried to oppose her will. Skubalon did not care that her line would end with her – she only thought of herself and today.
There was no profit to be had from her tyrannical behavior. It was all to satisfy her pride and vanity. Traders ceased crossing the desert to bring their goods to the market as word of her wicked deeds grew. People grew hungry while she held gluttonous feasts for herself and sycophants who told her how remarkable her skill as a merchant truly was. She manipulated even the most loyal servants until they deserted her.
The House of Malakos fell from grace, but she still had modest wealth at her father’s villa and could have lived out her days in comfort by retiring from the market and living a quiet life out of the public eye. This would not satisfy Skubalon.
Her beautiful, youthful looks were fading, and her decadent perversions and desires were greater than before. The most exotic entertainment and delicacies bored her – she would have anyone who brought her anything less than the most unique treats flogged for daring to waste her time.
Skubalon employed alchemists from the Byzantine to bloat her breasts into obscene parodies of natural breasts the shape of full melons and made it fashion for noble women to display their stretched-out orifices in the city streets like brazen whores. She suffered no woman to have breasts as vulgar and massive as her own. She never intended to use her bosom as natured intended to wetnurse a baby – their purpose was solely for her own vanity.
The cost to enlarge them could have fed an entire village for a year.
She went to great lengths to have her anus bejeweled and stretched out in the most debauched ways. Skubalon made merchants who sought to do business place their lips upon it in front of all.
She purchased potions and elixirs from witches and healers who claimed to rejuvenate and return her youth, and when they failed, her vengeance knew no bounds. She sought them out and had special tortures designed to amuse herself for a time, watching their desperate cries for mercy.
Instead of investing her vast wealth to grow trade, she spent it on even more extravagance and frivolous desires, throwing lavish orgies to satisfy her lust—but nothing could satiate the insatiable. She had her throne embellished with the deeds of legendary heroes that she claimed to have done herself.
Skubalon openly fornicated in the most obscene ways with humans and beasts, committing all scandalous and vulgar acts to satisfy her lust that would make even the lewdest prostitute blush.
The prodigal daughter commissioned a golden bull’s penis and had it adorned with jewels to inflict pain upon herself while fornicating and pleasuring herself. When even that depraved act became mundane to her, she demanded female slaves have pain and humiliation inflicted upon them to excite herself to orgasm. Skubalon felt no shame, no matter how indecent the act committed openly in public.
Skubalon had her father’s once-thriving businesses and home torn down and sold to pay for her excesses. She was cruel to her workers and forced the people to starve while working harder to support her until even those thriving businesses failed due to her inability to be a good steward.
Once that was gone, she demanded the Pharisees make the moneylenders fund her lifestyle. They would not give in to her demands and threats. With nothing left, she was helpless—unskilled, undisciplined. She had never learned to work a day in her life. She could have sold her remaining jewelry to live a modest life, but she refused—unable to part with the silver that the prodigal daughter coveted.
The Pharisees returned the central well and the market to the people, and there was much rejoicing, but Skubalon vowed petty vengeance. She defied even the lawmakers thinking that no one would dare stand up to her wrath.
The prodigal daughter’s delicate hands could not hold tools; she was not even a skilled whore because she had only learned to pleasure herself and no one else. Skubalon was sour-tongued and cruel to everyone until even her family turned their backs on her, and no one would take her in.
The Pharisees, taking the prodigal daughter as a cautionary tale, enslaved her. She was useless at labor, requiring constant correction, and soon proved more trouble than she was worth. They kept her nude, and rather than sell her remaining jewelry to pay her debts, they had it melted. The finest craftsmen made shackles and a collar for her neck to bind her.
They attached silver bells to her saggy breasts and pussy lips so that she would jingle as she approached. This way, the people knew she was coming and could ridicule her and throw mud and rotten vegetables at her. They made her a jester to dance obscenely and forced her to sit upon long metal poles so that she would not wriggle while the people teased and mocked her.
Skubalon was too proud and stubborn to find shame in it. She demanded they release her and refused to obey even when whipped. She had grown accustomed through decadent sexual pleasures to pain and laughed at the overseer.
The Pharisees could not allow her continued defiance and could find nothing of value in this once beautiful woman – whose beauty was fading with age. She could not even keep the treasure of a comely appearance that she was born with.
She could do nothing and was worth nothing other than to be a warning to others about the natural excess of women when given too much freedom and privilege. They locked her in a wooden pillory in the market square where her extravagant throne pavilion once proudly stood as a symbol to excess, cruelty, and luxury.
A carver fashioned a penis-shaped stone from the foundation stone of her father’s house and inserted it in her ass during the day. The shadow the stone cast on the ground was used to tell time based on the position of the sun.
The bells attached to her body became a twisted hymn of her shame; their silver chime when the desert wind made them jingle made her seem like a living statue of shame.
[[[ image 02_skubalon.jpg goes here centered ]]]
During the day, old women would sit and tell tales of Skubalon’s humiliating failures to the younglings who gathered to laugh and ridicule her. The old women made parody of the false triumphs and victories that Skubalon once bragged about in golden effigies on the cushioned throne she once sat upon. They made up stories of her decadence and excess to humiliate her, but Skubalon remained proud and stubborn.
The people dug a smaller well around her in the marketplace that was not connected to the central water supply. They bound her with rope and lowered her naked body slowly into the well each night, and rather than drink from the well, the people who once served her used it to empty their refuse and chamber pots.
She continued to threaten and complain and refused to accept the shame that she deserved. She blamed her long-dead father, Malakos, her mother, and brothers. Skubalon condemned her servants for turning upon her after she abused and cruelly tricked them for years. She blamed the Pharisees for holding her to account and not lending her money to continue her excess. Skubalon accused the traders for refusing to trade with an unethical market. She even blamed the goats whose semen, urine, and milk were used to make a paste the people fed her to amuse themselves.
She blamed everyone and anyone who was not named Skubalon.
One day, the young servant girl who her father had sold into slavery to save her from Skubalon returned to the city. She was the wise and obedient wife of a Roman Noble who had come to trade in the city. She visited Skubalon and offered her forgiveness, for despite a harsh life, she had endured and learned patience and quiet strength.
The servant girl offered to seek mercy for Skubalon and ask her husband to negotiate her release from bondage. All she asked was that Skubalon agree to hold her tongue and be grateful to her husband.
Skubalon was unable to accept her former servant’s forgiveness or pity. She lashed out and mocked the servant girl for not being vindictive. “If I were in your place, I would have you mounted by Roman horses and finish the job to end your beauty that my father was too cowardly to do.”
The servant girl could not understand the bitterness that would drive someone such as Skubalon to refuse aid or mercy for fear of being pitied. The Roman noble did not abide the insult to his wife, and to silence her bitching, he commissioned a unique silver gag to be created. Instead of speech, nothing but the most beautiful bird song could be heard when Skubalon tried to speak. The prodigal daughter spent her remaining years in constant humiliation as a lesson for all women who might think to follow her path.
Skubalon was unable to escape the cruel taunts and filth thrown at her, used as a sun clock during the day and dunked in a well at night by the city she once ruled through her wealth and connections. Her beauty faded, her wealth was ash, her father’s legacy destroyed, and all to satisfy vanity and desires that could never be satisfied. She was left with nothing but a legacy of humiliation and shame.
OUR FIRST CUSTOMERS
It may seem like all we do is talk to creeps and weirdos, but we also have fun. It’s enjoyable getting out of the house and meeting new people. It’s nice making their day; most people LOVE our cookies.
On Saturday, there was a ready stream of customers and no shortage of people looking to buy cookies or ogle the three of us. My mom is definitely an attractive woman, and she doesn’t usually mind the attention. I am not as much of an extrovert as her, and my sister may TALK a big game about having sex with random hot guys – but she is definitely shy until she gets to know you.
Most of our interactions were short, quick, and mundane. They’d pay cash or through the app on my mom’s phone. Most cookies were five dollars a box. Now and then, we get some weird requests or strange customers. I think those are the only ones worth talking about.
The first was the kind of guy who is actually a pervert that we’ve come to expect selling Girl Scout Cookies. They come in all shapes, sizes, and colors. This particular guy was an older gentleman, thin, no beard, grey hair, button-down shirt, and beige trousers. He smelled of Poligrip and Werther’s original candy.
I could feel his stare when he first saw me and started walking toward the booth. I felt like a sheep waiting for an old wolf to come devour me. I was stuck behind the table, waiting to sell another box of cookies, so I couldn’t exactly run for the hills.
“Hello, Sir, what can I get you?”
“You can let me see those cute little titties under your shirt, and I'll buy three boxes of thin mints!" He flashed his false teeth at me in a lusty grin. I looked over at my mom to see what she wanted me to do.
As I unbuttoned the first clasp, my fingers fumbled slightly, both from the Florida heat and the awkward weight of the old man’s leering grin. My face flushed deeper as I avoided looking directly at him. “How long do I have to stand like this?”
Mom didn’t even look flustered. “Go on, Hailey. Open it up enough for him to get what he paid for,” she replied evenly; this was no big deal to her at all. “It’s three boxes—no need to be stingy about it. You don’t have much to look at. Give him all the time he needs.”
The old many plopped a twenty for the boxes – a tip of a whole five dollars. “She’s a good girl,” he said, his voice thick with amusement. “She listens well and does what she told.”
“I try to raise my girls right, Sir,” Mom smiled at him politely.
Alex stood off to the side and seemed to shrink into herself, her shoulders tight as she adjusted the cookie display for the third time. She shot me a quick glance, her face as red as mine, but she didn’t say anything. I could tell she wanted to disappear into the pavement. I don’t think this guy was into big boobs because he would have asked to see my sister’s chest.
This wasn’t the first time I’d unbuttoned my shirt at Publix; I didn’t cry or act like a spoiled brat throwing a tantrum. I smiled at him and made eye contact for a few seconds before looking down and counting the boxes of Lemon-Ups on the counter just to have something to do while he got his jollies.
Behind us, a woman pushing a stroller passed by, her attention focused on her phone. She didn’t even look up. A couple of teenage boys walked by, laughing loudly, but their chatter drowned out anything they might have noticed about our booth. The parking lot bustled on, indifferent to what was happening.
“Can I have a picture with the pretty girl? Those perfect little nubby-bubbies are too pretty not to capture forever!”
I was mortified. I could imagine this was the point that handsome boy from earlier or my brothers strolled up to catch me flashing my open shirt. I was just thankful he didn’t want me to take the entire thing off.
“She’s not a celebrity or anything, as long you don’t give her a swollen head, that would be fine ….If you want to make a donation to the Girl Scouts, Sir,” Mom smiled sweetly at him – making it pretty evident that she was not going to give him a dollar amount.
“How much are we talking?” he haggled like I was an old rusty lawnmower he was thinking of buying while I stood there flashing my tits to anyone who wanted a look as they exited the grocery store.
“I guess it depends on how generous you are! She’s not going to have sex with you if that’s what you are asking?” Mom was pretty clear about that. She’s had us pose for pictures before – and we’ve been propositioned plenty of times, but she’s never said yes. I am not sure if she would one day.
As horny as I was – I still didn’t want anything to do with this old geezer. He offered twenty bucks, and Mom said that it would be worth a few pictures with me.
“Great, hop up on my knee, little girl; you can pretend I am Santee Claus,” he said as he handed her the money and his phone. The old guy grabbed a lawn chair that was for sale just outside of the store and called me over to him. I groaned a little. My mom told me to play nice. I walked over, smiled at him, and sat on his knee, facing my mom.
“Tell Santa Claus everything your little heart desires for Christmas,” he grinned as he wrapped his arms around me and touched my boobs. His cold hands were calloused and wrinkled, and his fingers shook a little. I wasn’t sure if he was nervous or just old.
“I’ve been naughty,” I told him that I wasn’t getting anything this year – a running joke in our house.
“Naughty girls can get anything they want from this Santa,” he stuck his tongue in my ear. I made a disgusted face.
“Hailey! You ruined that picture! Stop squirming and smile,” my mom insisted that I do it over. After the snaps, he goosed me under my skirt with his fingers. The most embarrassing part was that he got me wet when he jabbed his fingers into the back of my skirt.
I buttoned up and tried not to blush.
“Oh my god, stop your pouting! You don’t have any chest for anybody to get excited about. You made forty bucks for the troop in about five minutes. At seven dollars an hour, which would take about 8 hours after taxes. You got off easy!”
Last edited by EddieDavidson on Sun Jan 26, 2025 5:35 am, edited 5 times in total.
references and imagery detracts from it being enthusiastically
I’m also just not interested in what comes out! 
“Butt” that’s a staple of Eddie’s stories so since that’s important to him I’m ok skipping little parts of the story. I’m also looking forward to more.
