https://storiesonline.net/n/43683/girl- ... by-eddie/1
I've posted up the edited version here.
Girl Scout Cookies (Revised all chapters)
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EddieDavidson
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Re: Girl Scout Cookies (Revised chapter 1)
All of my stories: https://storiesonline.net/a/eddie-davidson
The site is free up to 100 chapters a day. You can get unlimited just for submitting stories.
The site is free up to 100 chapters a day. You can get unlimited just for submitting stories.
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EddieDavidson
- Posts: 320
- Joined: Fri Jun 23, 2023 2:38 pm
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Re: Girl Scout Cookies (Revised chapter 1)
All of my stories: https://storiesonline.net/a/eddie-davidson
The site is free up to 100 chapters a day. You can get unlimited just for submitting stories.
The site is free up to 100 chapters a day. You can get unlimited just for submitting stories.
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EddieDavidson
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The Tale Of the Prodigal Daughter: Skubalon from the House of Malakos
This is an excerpt from part two -rewrite. IDC if it doesn't really fit. I enjoyed writing it. I meant to write it much shorter, but I just kept going.
You should find this in the update of chapter two above.
It's a lesson they tell in this alternate reality.
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 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 obscenely 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 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.
You should find this in the update of chapter two above.
It's a lesson they tell in this alternate reality.
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 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 obscenely 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 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.
Last edited by EddieDavidson on Sun Jan 26, 2025 3:09 am, edited 2 times in total.
All of my stories: https://storiesonline.net/a/eddie-davidson
The site is free up to 100 chapters a day. You can get unlimited just for submitting stories.
The site is free up to 100 chapters a day. You can get unlimited just for submitting stories.
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EddieDavidson
- Posts: 320
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Re: Girl Scout Cookies (Revised chapter 1)
All of my stories: https://storiesonline.net/a/eddie-davidson
The site is free up to 100 chapters a day. You can get unlimited just for submitting stories.
The site is free up to 100 chapters a day. You can get unlimited just for submitting stories.
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EddieDavidson
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Re: Girl Scout Cookies (Revised chapter 2)
I've updated chapter 1 and 2.
Here are some images from it.
https://storiesonline.net/n/43683/girl- ... by-eddie/2
This is the founder of the traditional girl scouts in this alternative world - she seems like a bit of a hard-ass, like the real Juliette Low.
Here are some images from it.
https://storiesonline.net/n/43683/girl- ... by-eddie/2
This is the founder of the traditional girl scouts in this alternative world - she seems like a bit of a hard-ass, like the real Juliette Low.
All of my stories: https://storiesonline.net/a/eddie-davidson
The site is free up to 100 chapters a day. You can get unlimited just for submitting stories.
The site is free up to 100 chapters a day. You can get unlimited just for submitting stories.
-
EddieDavidson
- Posts: 320
- Joined: Fri Jun 23, 2023 2:38 pm
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Re: Girl Scout Cookies (Revised chapter 2)
Just for fun, I included a parable of a Prodigal Daughter - a story within a story.
Here is the image from that. Fun historical fact - Skubalon and Malakos are real ancient greek words, and Skubalon was branded on her forehead. I like how she is looking ahead with those angry eyes. it's like she knows what that Goat's about to sniff.
Skubalon basically means excrement (now) and Malakos may have meant proud father, but now it means people who are too weak to what is right.
I based her on Kim Kardashian, the whore of Babylon and this professional eater that I think is named Lisa Shutkever. Lisa usually has this look on her face when she stuffs something down her throat that's sort of angry - like "I can't believe you are making me do this...but fine...(guk-guk-guk)".
Here is the image from that. Fun historical fact - Skubalon and Malakos are real ancient greek words, and Skubalon was branded on her forehead. I like how she is looking ahead with those angry eyes. it's like she knows what that Goat's about to sniff.
Skubalon basically means excrement (now) and Malakos may have meant proud father, but now it means people who are too weak to what is right.
I based her on Kim Kardashian, the whore of Babylon and this professional eater that I think is named Lisa Shutkever. Lisa usually has this look on her face when she stuffs something down her throat that's sort of angry - like "I can't believe you are making me do this...but fine...(guk-guk-guk)".
Last edited by EddieDavidson on Sun Jan 26, 2025 3:12 am, edited 1 time in total.
All of my stories: https://storiesonline.net/a/eddie-davidson
The site is free up to 100 chapters a day. You can get unlimited just for submitting stories.
The site is free up to 100 chapters a day. You can get unlimited just for submitting stories.
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EddieDavidson
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Re: Girl Scout Cookies (Revised chapter 2)
https://storiesonline.net/n/43683/girl- ... s-by-eddie
If you don't feel like scrolling up and don't mind a different site.
All of my stories: https://storiesonline.net/a/eddie-davidson
The site is free up to 100 chapters a day. You can get unlimited just for submitting stories.
The site is free up to 100 chapters a day. You can get unlimited just for submitting stories.
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EddieDavidson
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Chapter 3
My mom was correct. All I had to do was ride that guy’s knee and be nice to him, let him snap some pictures of my admittedly small boobs. It was money that could be put toward advancing Girl Scouts, but it was still humiliating.
I blushed, as I buttoned up my shirt and returned to dealing with customers – most of whom had just witnessed me sitting on “Santa’s Lap”. Mom saw no big deal with any of that because from her perspective girls don’t need modesty, and he wasn’t being sexual. His touch was like touching my elbow – I wasn’t even developed enough to warrant his interest.
“A little embarrassment never hurt anyone, dear,” she smiled. It was a slogan I’ve heard all of my life.
Another old man ambled up to the booth. I could tell from how he approached that he was interested in my sister and not me. He made a beeline for Alex and drank in her body. “Well, now, what’s a pretty thing like you doing out here? You look sweet enough to eat without all these cookies.”
Alex shifted but kept her polite smile. “Good afternoon, sir. Can I help you pick something?”
“Oh, I’m sure you could help me with a lot of things,” he said, leaning on the table. “But let’s start with cookies. What’s your favorite? Wait, no, let me guess... Samoas, right? Sweet and sticky?”
“Yes, sir,” Alex answered softly. “I like Samoas.”
Our job isn’t to talk dirty back to the customers, but when a guy starts talking like this, we both know he’s not really interested in those kinds of cookies—he wants ours.
“Figures,” he said, picking up a box. “A sweet girl like you probably has a sweet tooth. You ever let a boyfriend feed you a cookie while you jerk him off? Bet you’ve had plenty of boyfriends.”
Alex flushed, glancing down. “I’ve had a few boyfriends but not many cookies, Sir.”
More than a few! My so-called “shy” sister loves sex and has been around the block more times than I have.
“How many’s a few? Come on, sweetheart, don’t be shy. How many guys have you been with?”
My sister was already blushing and looking awkward. That was a pretty forward question just to come right out and ask. I was dealing with a woman around his age who wanted a few boxes of Caramel cookies, so I couldn’t intervene. I wouldn’t have known what to say anyway.
“What’s going on here?” my mom interjected. We were busy at the booth but all standing close enough to one another that there was no private conversation. The old man instantly shrank and probably felt like my mom was going to chastise him for being so forward. “Is Alex giving you a hard time, sir?”
“You might say she is making me hard, yes,” he grinned. “We were just having a pleasant conversation while I pick out some cookies.”
“Alex, the nice gentleman is considerate enough to ask you some questions. I expect you to be honest and forthright. What are the six values of a Girl Scout?”
“Um, honesty, respect, caring, responsibility, resourcefulness, and concern for others, Ma’am,” my sister repeated the values that we’ve been taught since before we ever became Brownie Scouts.
“Are you being honest, respectful, considerate, and showing concern for others right now?”
“No, Ma’am,” Alex put her finger in her mouth. She is a smart girl, and she’s not infantile; she just has an oral fixation, and when she’s nervous, it’s a habit.
“What did he ask you?”
The old man was about to deny it, but he doesn’t know my mom cares more about honesty than she does our pride or privacy. “Um, he asked if I ever let a boyfriend feed me cookies and if I had many boyfriends?”
“I was just making conversation,” the old man backpedaled.
“That’s fine. I don’t see what the big deal is, Alex. Answer his question,” Mom placed her hands on her hips stubbornly.
“Um, just three boyfriends, maybe. I seldom ever date boys more than once, and no, I’ve never had anyone feed me these cookies. I am not allowed to eat them.”
“What if I buy her a box, Mom?” the old man asked politely.
“That would be really nice of you! But I don’t like to spoil my girls. Do you mind if I limit how many she can have each day?” Mom asked. “Sir, may I ask your name?”
“It’s Don,” he was happy to offer it. “Sure, I wouldn’t want to interfere with how you raise your daughter, Ma’am! You seem to be doing a great job.”
“You can call me Julie and thank you! I am trying, but these two knuckleheads make it hard sometimes. What do you tell the nice gentleman, Alex? And you can have one box of Lemon-Ups because they are the least expensive, and we have a hard time selling those.”
“Thank you, Don. That was very thoughtful of you!” Alex was genuinely excited. I was jealous. I’ve been selling these cookies for most of my life, and I’ve never tried any of them. Mom told him she’d be right there if he needed her and politely excused herself to help me with my sale.
“Is your mom very strict?” Don asked.
“Yes, kind of,” Alex replied.
“She obviously loves you a lot to spend so much effort on you,” Don gave her a warm smile.
“Yes, I love her too. What else can I get you?” she asked.
The man picked out three boxes of a variety of cookies, made my sister add it up, and then decided to change his mind. That can be frustrating because we were taught to add up every sale three times before we quote the customer. It can also be time-consuming, but Don seemed to have all day. While my sister mumble-counted with her mouth open, he stared at her cleavage popping out of the tunic.
“That’s eighteen dollars, sir!”
“Eighteen, huh? Well, what about if I swap out the Thin Mints for two Caramel?” he asked.
[[[ image 03_cookies.jpg goes here centered ]]]
My sister dutifully started over, adding up the price, and it went on like that for a few minutes. I lost track because I was busy with a customer of my own.
“So, you had three boyfriends, huh? Have you gone all the way with any?”
“Oh yes,” Alex replied without hesitation.
“You like sex, huh?”
“I do,” Alex blushed, put her finger back in her mouth, and had to re-count the man’s latest choices because she lost track and got flustered.
He chuckled, leaning closer. “So, what gets you going? What makes you wet enough to let a guy have a chance?”
Alex froze, her mouth opening and closing as her blush deepened. All it took was one glance from Mom to know that she had to answer honestly.
Alex’s voice wavered as she finally spoke. “A thumb in my butt, or play with my nipples,” she admitted. “Those will usually turn me on.”
The man barked a laugh. “You like to do that to yourself or when a guy does it to you?”
“It doesn’t matter who does it,” Alex admitted. “It could be me, a girl, a guy, I guess.”
“What about this pretty girl next to you? Have you ever made out with her?”
“Not really. That’s my sister Hailey.”
I waved politely at him. There was no way to hold a genuinely private conversation at the cookie table. My mom and I could hear every word that was spoken, and so could the customers that perused the table. The man didn’t seem to have a filter, though—because he continued with his lascivious questions.
“I’ve heard of some girls who kiss their sisters,” he grinned wickedly.
“I’ve kissed my sister plenty of times. I haven’t, uh… made out with her. I guess there is a difference?”
“What’s the difference?” he asked.
“Making out is when you get on the couch and use your fingers to play with each other and grind and do heavy kissing, isn’t it?” Alex asked awkwardly.
Mom didn’t put a stop to the questions, even though they were deeply personal. We rarely had anyone ask us questions like this, and usually, they’d stop after one or two. I felt like this guy was interviewing my sister. He changed his order again and watched her count up the price of each box before changing his mind once more.
“Do you like going down on guys or girls better?”
“Guys,” Alex said without a second thought. Mom didn’t seem surprised or shocked by that. I wasn’t surprised because I knew my sister was orally fixated, and that’s why she kept sucking her finger while she was nervously answering his dirty questions.
“I’ll bet you’re good at it, too. You swallow, or are you a spitter?”
“I swallow,” Alex whispered as her face turned beet red. She’d have had no problem talking to me about it. This was a total stranger, older than our father, and he was asking her in front of my mother.
My family made jokes about sexual things, but we’d never been asked if we swallowed cum before.
It was kind of fun to watch my sister squirm a little. I was thankful I wasn’t being put on the spot. I also knew it was futile for my sister to think somehow she could whisper and our mom wouldn’t hear the question. Alex was lucky that no other customers were standing nearby because she still had to answer.
“Alex, you’re not answering a question about national security. Speak up so everyone can hear you. You were obviously proud of how you like to go down on boys and suck their dicks. Are you a spitter or a swallower?”
Alex’s cheeks burned a deep red as she stammered. “I—I said I swallow, Ma’am.”
Mom crossed her arms. “Do you think Don is asking a question that’s too personal or private?”
“A little,” my sister admitted.
“Alex Marie Tucker! Do you think that you need secrets? You’ve already admitted to him you like sucking cocks!” Mom raised her voice slightly. She never did that with men – only other women and usually just us. “Remind me about the Girl Scout values, was it honesty or secrecy?”
“Honesty, Ma’am,” my sister blushed. Don seemed mildly amused that my sister was being put on the spot and not at all concerned that Alex was getting dressed down. I dealt with a customer who walked up while all of this was going on – hopefully, he wouldn’t freak out and run off.
“Then what’s the problem?” Mom continued, her voice calm but firm. “You’re not saying anything that goes against the truth, and you’re not breaking any rules. If I catch you whispering, I’ll assume you are trying to tell him something that you think I shouldn’t know and talking behind my back. How do you think that’s going to go for you?”
Mom had a point there. I hadn’t thought about it like that. Whispering was somewhat pointless at the booth, with us all being so close to one another.
“Not well, Ma’am,” Alex said.
Mom turned to Don, offering a polite smile. “Thank you for your patience. Sometimes, my girls need a little reminder about what’s expected of them. The least expensive box of cookies that you choose today is on the house. How is that?””
“Oh goodie,” the old man was giddy. He was already do change his order again.
“Did you hear my daughter’s answer to your question, Don?” she asked.
“Not particularly, I am a little HARD….of hearing,” the older man grinned over his own dirty joke.
“Alex, repeat his question and what the answer was so that this man can hear it,” Mom insisted.
“Don asked me if I liked going down on girls or guys better, and I said guys, and then he asked if I spat or swallowed, Ma’am. I told him that I swallowed.”
“You disgusting little tramp,” Mom frowned and shook her head. She apologized to Don and the man I was finishing up with, who had just purchased a box of Thin Mints. “Address your elder as Sir or call him Mister and his last name– not by his first name. You aren’t peers.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” my sister admitted. She asked Don if he minded giving her his last name if he had more questions for her.
Don grinned, clearly enjoying the situation. “Last name’s Prichard, but you can just keep calling me Don, sweetheart. I like how it rolls off your tongue.” He glanced at Mom with a wink. “Don’t think she minds much either, do you, Mrs. Tucker?”
Mom remained bright and cheerful when talking to Don, even though she was being so strict with my sister. “Mr. Prichard, if you’d like to be addressed as Don, that’s your choice, but I’ll insist Alex ask your preference properly. She’s not your equal, and it’s not her place to assume.”
Don gave a grin. “Fair enough. Don’s fine by me. No need for all that formality.”
Mom turned her gaze to Alex. “You’ll call him Don because that’s what he prefers. And remember, it’s a courtesy extended to you, not a right you’ve earned. Show him the respect his age and position deserve. He’s a customer, and he’s shown you the courtesy of asking about you – the least you can do is be fully honest and respectful.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Alex said quickly, glancing up at Don with a shy smile.
Mom’s attention shifted back to Don. “I appreciate you voluntarily spending time with my daughter. I am sure you have better things to do than delve into what a young bimbo likes to do under the covers when she has more freedom than she does good sense, Mr. Prichard.”
Don said that he should probably make up his mind on the cookies he wants and not be so nosy. He'd have probably left right after he said that if my Mom hadn’t continued to talk to him.
Mom’s attention shifted back to Don. “It’s not every day someone takes the time to ask her questions that make her think before she speaks. Feel free to ask anything you like—about Alex or even about Hailey or myself,” Mom said with a measured smile. “It’s a valuable learning experience for her, and I’m grateful you’re helping her reflect on what she does, why she does it, and how it looks to others.”
“I am just a bored old man with a little time on my hands,” Don perked up at her words. "I should probably have just made up my mind what cookies I wanted and be on my way, but since you are offering, then I may just do that.”
“That’s up to you, Mr. Prichard. We are here all day anyway, and the girls have nothing better they could be doing than learn a lesson from a kind gentleman like yourself,” Mom assured him politely and sweetly – like he was doing us a favor and not just trying to hear my sister talk about dirty stuff she enjoyed doing.
“Really?” Don brightened like my mother had just made his day. “I wouldn’t want to waste the opportunity. I am curious, Mrs. Tucker. How exactly are my questions teaching your daughter a lesson?”
Mom patiently explained, “You’re showing Alex, and by extension, my nosy daughter Hailey, who has been eavesdropping on your conversation, what it means to be considerate when someone takes an interest in her, and you’re giving her an opportunity to learn honesty even when a subject makes you uncomfortable.”
I blushed a little – Mom was okay with other people overhearing our conversations, but she frowned at me when she called me out for eavesdropping. There was no way that I could ignore the conversation.
“Too often, girls her age think they can hide behind modesty and secrets. But I’ve always taught my daughters that if they’re ashamed to admit something, they shouldn’t be doing it in the first place. Don’t you agree, Mr. Prichard?”
Don gave a slight nod, his grin still fixed in place. “I suppose that’s fair. Honesty is a good quality to instill.”
Mom smiled warmly but didn’t let up. “Exactly. Alex needs to understand that she doesn’t deserve privacy for things she’s proud to do. I’ve always told my girls that if they’d be embarrassed to tell a stranger about their choices, they shouldn’t be making them. And frankly, girls don’t need modesty. Secrets only encourage them to believe they’re entitled to privacy or discretion, and that’s not how they’ll learn to be honest with themselves or others.”
Alex and I knew this was my mother’s belief, and we’d been raised to believe it as well. We didn’t just pay it lip service – we still believe it. It was the traditional way that girls had been raised for years.
“She’s also learning to stay composed and gracious, even when embarrassed by admitting her lusty desires and the naughty things she does when she is allowed more freedom than she has good sense.”
My sister blushed and looked down at her feet. I handled a quick sale of a single box of cookies.
“Humiliation is far better teacher and kinder than flipping her over my knee and spanking that fat bottom of hers.” Mom gestured to Alex. Don smiled profusely at the mention of spanking.
“Show Mr. Prichard what I mean, darling. Turn around and hike your skirt up,” she said. My sister blushed and obediently turned and lifted her skirt revealing her big wide bubble butt. At least she was fortunate enough to wear white panties today – I had nothing on under my skirt.
“Imagine if any time I needed to teach my daughter a painful lesson, all I could do is spank that fat, jiggly bottom covered in padding? I’d break my paddle and wear out my arm, because she needs extensive education and constant supervision.”
“It’d be an exercise in futility with all that padding,” my mom said but admitted she still tries to reach us through corporal punishment as well because there is a point when we aren’t ashamed of even the naughtiest of behaviors. “I use every tool at my limited disposal, and one is to simply have an honest conversation with a nice gentleman.”
Don wasn’t really paying attention to my mom. He stared at my sister, holding her skirt up high in the back.
"Girls like her don’t deserve modesty. . if Alex has a shortcoming, or a flaw, or a bad habit, how can she expect to do anything about it if she can't even admit it to herself? You’re helping her understand that honesty and openness, even when it stings, are virtues she should embrace. She has a big ass, and showing you that as well might make her decide to take more steps and work off some of that flab. Panties down to your ankles, please."
My sister obediently bent over at the knees to avoid showing him her asshole and pussy and slid her panties around her ankles.
“Do you have a big, chunky ass, Alex?” Mom asked without looking in my sister’s direction.
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Alex was fortunate that at the moment that no one walked out of the Publix exit – or else they would have seen her big, pale ass mooning them by the Girl Scout cookies table.
“Jiggle your fat butt, and shake it, for Don,” she said before asking, “Would it be less humiliating if you had a smaller, cute butt like your sister and your butt cheeks didn’t clap back and forth like that?”
“Yes, Ma’am.” My sister repeated.
“Do you see what I have to deal with? Barely a response that tells me she really understands what I am teaching her,” Mom complained about Alex’s shy response. I knew why she was shy – she was utterly mortified. “Do you want to pull up your panties, or would you like to answer Mr. Prichard’s questions like you are?”
“Pull up my panties, Ma’am,” My sister responded quietly, obviously mortified.
“You may, but if I catch you whispering, waffling or, or lying, then I’ll make you stay like that until Mr. Prichard has finished teaching you a lesson. Now, thank Mr. Prichard for showing an interest in you.
My sister eagerly pulled her panties up, “Thank you, Mr. Prichard, for helping me learn and showing an interest in me.”
She quickly composed herself, while my Mom greeted the next person to come out of the grocery store – they JUST missed the free show of my sister’s bottom. “You can ask me anything, Don. Did you want to change your cookies now that you have a free box?”
He quickly showed her his new choice of cookies and pointed out the credited one. Don seemed a little confused that he only got the cheapest box for free. My sister isn’t the greatest at math, and she struggled to give him a new price.
After watching Alex fumble with the math and thanking him shyly, Mr. Prichard smirked and leaned in slightly. He was now far more comfortable just coming right out and asking her a naughty question. “Tell me something, Alex. Do you like sitting on a man’s face with that big, beautiful butt of yours?”
"I’ve never even thought about it," my sister admitted, her voice a mix of disgust and embarrassment. "I mean, I’ve had men ask, but… wouldn’t it crush them? Or, I don’t know, wouldn’t it stink or something?"
Alex had a good point, but hopefully, she wipes her butt, and it’s not THAT stinky down there.
Mr. Prichard chuckled, leaning just a little closer. “Well, that depends, doesn’t it? Maybe some men like the risk—or the stink. You’d be surprised what people enjoy.” His eyes lingered on her just long enough to make her squirm before he added, “But that’s the thing about trying new things, Alex. You won’t know unless you’ve got the guts to do it.”
Alex didn’t respond—her face went blank like her brain had checked out, leaving her standing there with nothing to say. I could see why my sister’s eyes glazed over. What exactly could you say to a comment like that? Mom shot her a sharp look, clearly unimpressed by her hesitation.
“Um, so did you have any other questions or want to change your order?” she asked, clearly uncomfortable and concerned Mom might make her humiliate herself again to teach her a lesson in not being cordial to a weird old man and answer all of his horny, perverted questions. He grinned, clearly enjoying her discomfort.
“Good girl,” he said with a wink, straightening up and grabbing a box of Thin Mints. “Actually, swap this for Lemon-Ups. No, wait—make it Samoas again. On second thought, let’s do two Samoas and a Thin Mint. No, just one Samoa. Keep up, sweetheart, I know you are a girl, but you aren’t very bright are you?”
Alex’s hands fumbled with the boxes as she tried to keep track, her cheeks still bright red.
“Mr. Prichard?” my mom said, coughing politely to get his attention. “My daughter is not very bright, but she’s a bit too dumb to know she isn’t very smart. That’s why I taught her to count up the cost of your order three times and then count up the cost of the boxes there again. With the free one I threw in, it’s taking her a lot longer. Do you want me to handle this for you, Sir? I am not that good at math either; none of us are.”
Don tilted his head, clearly enjoying the moment as he leaned on the table. “Oh, no, Mrs. Tucker, I think she’s doing just fine. It’s quite charming, really, watching her work so hard to keep up. Take your time, sweetheart,” he added with a sly grin directed at Alex.
Mom gave him a polite smile. “Well, you’re kind to be so patient, but don’t let her pretty face fool you into thinking she’ll get there any faster. If she trips over herself, just holler, and I’ll step in.”
My sister looked a little nervous, but she managed to shrug off being called stupid. “Actually, I have my Mathematics badge in Girl Scouts,” she finally added in her own defense.
“Honey, the bar is so low for girls and math; you only need a D or higher for one-grade period in basic Math to earn that badge,” Mom chuckled. “Just take the L and accept that we’re not cut out to be mathematicians. When God was handing out brains, he gave them to the guys with the cocks, and you ended up in the boob line.”
It is a bit of a back-handed insult to give us an award for getting at least a D in our math classes. Almost every Girl Scout I know has the Mathematics badge. My brothers patronized me when I first came home with mine because I was so happy to have another badge.
In retrospect, they were right to do it. I’ve been able to get D’s almost every semester since I’ve been in school in the basic Math and Science classes that are available to girls. I am usually right at C level if you consider my other grades.
“I’ve heard so many blonde Girl Scout jokes,” Don said with a grin. “I figured it was just a stereotype that you were all brainless bimbos.”
“Oh, I love those jokes,” Mom giggled. “There’s probably some truth to them.”
“How can you tell if a Girl Scout has been using the computer?” Don asked. Mom and my sister both shrugged, saying they didn’t know. “The joystick is wet!”
I didn’t get it, and neither did my sister, but we all laughed anyway—it’s only polite when a man’s trying to entertain us. Don lit up like he was the most popular guy on the planet. I guess that’s one of the positive things about scouting. You can make other people feel good about themselves. He got to laugh at us – but it’s not like we were going to shrivel up and die because he had a little flash of my sister’s panties and teased her.
“Hey, Alex, have you heard this one?” Don’s laugh was annoying and scratchy. “A guy is out one day in the woods and sees two Girl Scouts. They have cute little asses, so he sits down to watch what they are doing. One of them, she’s got huge knockers like yours. She digs a deep hole, working in the hot sun and sweating. The other Girl Scout is flat chested and grumpy, like your sister, what’s your name, Honey?”
“Hailey, Sir,” I replied politely.
“So, as soon as Alex, the Girl Scout, finishes digging that hole as deep as she can, here comes Hailey and she starts to fill it back in immediately. She pats it down nice and flat, and they start the process over again, just digging holes and filling them back in.”
My mom’s mouth hung open in anticipation of the punch line to come, and I have to admit I wanted to hear this one.
“So, my friend walks up and asks them why they are doing that, and they say that normally there are three of them out there planting trees in the woods, but the girl that puts the trees in the hole got lost in the woods, so they started without her!”
Mom laughed a little too hard, more at Don’s enthusiasm than the joke itself. “I guess some tasks don’t need a point to make sense to us girls, do they?”
Alex pretended to get it and laughed as well. “I guess the punchline’s supposed to explain why I get the shovel and Hailey just stands around?”
I wasn’t sure what the joke was supposed to mean, either. “How come we didn’t just leave the holes until we found the other girl to put the trees in?”
I knew we weren’t really in the woods when I asked the question. I was merely asking why our characters in the hypothetical situation didn’t at least do that much.
“We should probably have gone and looked for that girl!” Alex stuck her finger in her mouth with a look of concern. I assumed the joke had gone over my sister’s head completely.
“Where was I in all of this? I would have made the girls put the tree in before they filled up the hole!” My mom added with a stern look at the two of us like we had really done something that stupid. I wasn’t sure how much of this was my mom pretending to be an airhead or not.
“You were probably back in your bedroom, digging in your own hole with your fingers and wondering why they smell like poop when you are done, Julie,” Don’s sarcasm and intent were pretty clear on the joke.
“Mister Prichard!” My mom flashed the old man a lascivious smirk. “I think everybody goes digging in that hole when they want a quick thrill, don’t they? Even men.”
Don was shocked that my Mom was so forthcoming. She told him earlier that we had to be honest, but I don’t think he believed her.
“Wow, I didn’t expect you to be so blunt,” Don seemed quite pleased.
“We women are natural liars, but the Girl Scouts teaches absolute honesty,” Mom admitted. “I told you earlier when you were asking Alex those questions that you were helping reinforce that value. My daughters and I have to answer you truthfully, even if it’s humiliating or embarrassing. That’s a big part of Scouting!”
“I’ve always thought of honesty like a fart; it’s sometimes better to keep it yourself,” Don laughed dismissively. “You really are serious, huh? I thought you guys were just telling me what I wanted to hear so that I’d buy more cookies.”
“Only if what you want to hear is the truth. We aren’t allowed to be rude when we tell someone a truth about them, but we aren’t as polite when we talk about each other. If you want to smell my fingers for poop – you are welcome to have a sniff, Mr. Prichard. I don’t think you’ll smell any of my butt on my fingers.”
She offered him an opportunity to smell our fingers, but he declined. I’ve often found people don’t believe Girl Scouts do more than pay lip service to total honesty. It’s probably easy to assume because most women really are natural liars.
“What good is making up lies about ourselves to sell cookies? The cookies are yummy and sell themselves, Sir. I raise my daughters to be fully honest with everyone and to have no modesty. I am not ashamed of that.”
“That’s kind of sexy. Are you single?” Don smiled like he had a shot with my mother. She’s a beauty queen compared to this old pervert.
“No sir, I am married, and I don’t cheat on my husband. I am sorry.”
“That’s where you are lying. You aren’t sorry you can’t fuck me,” Don seemed vulnerable for a moment.
“That’s true; I am sorry that I had to say something that may hurt your feelings, Sir. You’ve been very engaging and considerate!” My mom apologized.
When I first became a Girl Scout, I was excited to talk to everyone and anyone that wanted to talk to me. My mother has never met a stranger. I wouldn’t say she is an extrovert, but she isn’t shy and she’s always warm and friendly to people that engage her.
I took after my mother’s example and fully embraced the Girl Scout’s code on honesty and being considerate to others. I still do, but over the years, I’ve had to reveal a lot of nasty, dirty things about myself whether I want to or not.
My sister has as well. It’s actually been good for her because I think she’d be much more bashful if she weren’t required to talk to people – even creepy old men. Don is relatively harmless, and even though his jokes went over my head – It wasn’t unpleasant to speak with him.
My mom believes that just like girls don’t need modesty, we also don’t need secrets.
This is a passage from the Girl Scout’s Handbook that I’ve been reading a lot lately.
Girls' Nature to Deceive
Excerpted from the Girl Scout’s Handbook Pg. 326
“Women don’t need to practice deceit and manipulation because we perfected it a long time ago.”
-Juliette “Daisy” Low
Founder of the Girl Scouts
The Girl Scouts’ policy of total honesty ensures that every girl confronts her natural inclination toward deceit and overcomes it through rigorous discipline. By rejecting privacy, deceitful attire, and secrecy, Girl Scouts learn to live fully exposed—flaws, fears, and all.
The natural state of undisciplined women is to engage in dishonesty. Just as girls are born with pussies, they are also born with the natural ability to lie without blinking, continue eye contact, and convince themselves that the lie was justified. Only a few men who become lawyers, salesmen, and politicians ever reach the levels of dishonesty that come naturally to females.
Honesty holds up a mirror to who you really are. It has the power to trigger frustration, resentment, hurt, or anger in others. However, lies can be even more painful and destructive than truth. A Girl Scout must deliver the truth fully, explicitly, and without omission when asked, regardless of how embarrassing or humiliating it may be.
Honesty about oneself or other women: Full exposure of flaws, wicked habits, perversions, or jealousies.
Honesty toward others: Delivered with deference and care when addressing men or leaders.
Confessing ones flaws, secrets, disgusting desires, wicked habits, perversions are encouraged at Girl Scout events and at home, through routine affirmations. Admitting one’s hatred, jealousy, envy of others is a healthy outlet as long as it is done respectfully toward men.
Open Dialogue, Even in Discomfort:
Scouts are taught to answer any question fully and explicitly, even if it embarrasses them. No subject is off-limits. Whether asked about their desires, habits, or secrets, they must respond truthfully.
Girls must be prepared to not only deliver truth, but to receive it – bluntly, crassly, and without concern for their modesty or feelings.
If someone asks for the truth, a Girl Scout must deliver it fully and explicitly. It is trained from day one of entering the Program Daisy and constantly reinforced through regular discipline and constant supervision to ensure that a Girl Scout cannot maintain secrecy or deceit.
I blushed, as I buttoned up my shirt and returned to dealing with customers – most of whom had just witnessed me sitting on “Santa’s Lap”. Mom saw no big deal with any of that because from her perspective girls don’t need modesty, and he wasn’t being sexual. His touch was like touching my elbow – I wasn’t even developed enough to warrant his interest.
“A little embarrassment never hurt anyone, dear,” she smiled. It was a slogan I’ve heard all of my life.
Another old man ambled up to the booth. I could tell from how he approached that he was interested in my sister and not me. He made a beeline for Alex and drank in her body. “Well, now, what’s a pretty thing like you doing out here? You look sweet enough to eat without all these cookies.”
Alex shifted but kept her polite smile. “Good afternoon, sir. Can I help you pick something?”
“Oh, I’m sure you could help me with a lot of things,” he said, leaning on the table. “But let’s start with cookies. What’s your favorite? Wait, no, let me guess... Samoas, right? Sweet and sticky?”
“Yes, sir,” Alex answered softly. “I like Samoas.”
Our job isn’t to talk dirty back to the customers, but when a guy starts talking like this, we both know he’s not really interested in those kinds of cookies—he wants ours.
“Figures,” he said, picking up a box. “A sweet girl like you probably has a sweet tooth. You ever let a boyfriend feed you a cookie while you jerk him off? Bet you’ve had plenty of boyfriends.”
Alex flushed, glancing down. “I’ve had a few boyfriends but not many cookies, Sir.”
More than a few! My so-called “shy” sister loves sex and has been around the block more times than I have.
“How many’s a few? Come on, sweetheart, don’t be shy. How many guys have you been with?”
My sister was already blushing and looking awkward. That was a pretty forward question just to come right out and ask. I was dealing with a woman around his age who wanted a few boxes of Caramel cookies, so I couldn’t intervene. I wouldn’t have known what to say anyway.
“What’s going on here?” my mom interjected. We were busy at the booth but all standing close enough to one another that there was no private conversation. The old man instantly shrank and probably felt like my mom was going to chastise him for being so forward. “Is Alex giving you a hard time, sir?”
“You might say she is making me hard, yes,” he grinned. “We were just having a pleasant conversation while I pick out some cookies.”
“Alex, the nice gentleman is considerate enough to ask you some questions. I expect you to be honest and forthright. What are the six values of a Girl Scout?”
“Um, honesty, respect, caring, responsibility, resourcefulness, and concern for others, Ma’am,” my sister repeated the values that we’ve been taught since before we ever became Brownie Scouts.
“Are you being honest, respectful, considerate, and showing concern for others right now?”
“No, Ma’am,” Alex put her finger in her mouth. She is a smart girl, and she’s not infantile; she just has an oral fixation, and when she’s nervous, it’s a habit.
“What did he ask you?”
The old man was about to deny it, but he doesn’t know my mom cares more about honesty than she does our pride or privacy. “Um, he asked if I ever let a boyfriend feed me cookies and if I had many boyfriends?”
“I was just making conversation,” the old man backpedaled.
“That’s fine. I don’t see what the big deal is, Alex. Answer his question,” Mom placed her hands on her hips stubbornly.
“Um, just three boyfriends, maybe. I seldom ever date boys more than once, and no, I’ve never had anyone feed me these cookies. I am not allowed to eat them.”
“What if I buy her a box, Mom?” the old man asked politely.
“That would be really nice of you! But I don’t like to spoil my girls. Do you mind if I limit how many she can have each day?” Mom asked. “Sir, may I ask your name?”
“It’s Don,” he was happy to offer it. “Sure, I wouldn’t want to interfere with how you raise your daughter, Ma’am! You seem to be doing a great job.”
“You can call me Julie and thank you! I am trying, but these two knuckleheads make it hard sometimes. What do you tell the nice gentleman, Alex? And you can have one box of Lemon-Ups because they are the least expensive, and we have a hard time selling those.”
“Thank you, Don. That was very thoughtful of you!” Alex was genuinely excited. I was jealous. I’ve been selling these cookies for most of my life, and I’ve never tried any of them. Mom told him she’d be right there if he needed her and politely excused herself to help me with my sale.
“Is your mom very strict?” Don asked.
“Yes, kind of,” Alex replied.
“She obviously loves you a lot to spend so much effort on you,” Don gave her a warm smile.
“Yes, I love her too. What else can I get you?” she asked.
The man picked out three boxes of a variety of cookies, made my sister add it up, and then decided to change his mind. That can be frustrating because we were taught to add up every sale three times before we quote the customer. It can also be time-consuming, but Don seemed to have all day. While my sister mumble-counted with her mouth open, he stared at her cleavage popping out of the tunic.
“That’s eighteen dollars, sir!”
“Eighteen, huh? Well, what about if I swap out the Thin Mints for two Caramel?” he asked.
[[[ image 03_cookies.jpg goes here centered ]]]
My sister dutifully started over, adding up the price, and it went on like that for a few minutes. I lost track because I was busy with a customer of my own.
“So, you had three boyfriends, huh? Have you gone all the way with any?”
“Oh yes,” Alex replied without hesitation.
“You like sex, huh?”
“I do,” Alex blushed, put her finger back in her mouth, and had to re-count the man’s latest choices because she lost track and got flustered.
He chuckled, leaning closer. “So, what gets you going? What makes you wet enough to let a guy have a chance?”
Alex froze, her mouth opening and closing as her blush deepened. All it took was one glance from Mom to know that she had to answer honestly.
Alex’s voice wavered as she finally spoke. “A thumb in my butt, or play with my nipples,” she admitted. “Those will usually turn me on.”
The man barked a laugh. “You like to do that to yourself or when a guy does it to you?”
“It doesn’t matter who does it,” Alex admitted. “It could be me, a girl, a guy, I guess.”
“What about this pretty girl next to you? Have you ever made out with her?”
“Not really. That’s my sister Hailey.”
I waved politely at him. There was no way to hold a genuinely private conversation at the cookie table. My mom and I could hear every word that was spoken, and so could the customers that perused the table. The man didn’t seem to have a filter, though—because he continued with his lascivious questions.
“I’ve heard of some girls who kiss their sisters,” he grinned wickedly.
“I’ve kissed my sister plenty of times. I haven’t, uh… made out with her. I guess there is a difference?”
“What’s the difference?” he asked.
“Making out is when you get on the couch and use your fingers to play with each other and grind and do heavy kissing, isn’t it?” Alex asked awkwardly.
Mom didn’t put a stop to the questions, even though they were deeply personal. We rarely had anyone ask us questions like this, and usually, they’d stop after one or two. I felt like this guy was interviewing my sister. He changed his order again and watched her count up the price of each box before changing his mind once more.
“Do you like going down on guys or girls better?”
“Guys,” Alex said without a second thought. Mom didn’t seem surprised or shocked by that. I wasn’t surprised because I knew my sister was orally fixated, and that’s why she kept sucking her finger while she was nervously answering his dirty questions.
“I’ll bet you’re good at it, too. You swallow, or are you a spitter?”
“I swallow,” Alex whispered as her face turned beet red. She’d have had no problem talking to me about it. This was a total stranger, older than our father, and he was asking her in front of my mother.
My family made jokes about sexual things, but we’d never been asked if we swallowed cum before.
It was kind of fun to watch my sister squirm a little. I was thankful I wasn’t being put on the spot. I also knew it was futile for my sister to think somehow she could whisper and our mom wouldn’t hear the question. Alex was lucky that no other customers were standing nearby because she still had to answer.
“Alex, you’re not answering a question about national security. Speak up so everyone can hear you. You were obviously proud of how you like to go down on boys and suck their dicks. Are you a spitter or a swallower?”
Alex’s cheeks burned a deep red as she stammered. “I—I said I swallow, Ma’am.”
Mom crossed her arms. “Do you think Don is asking a question that’s too personal or private?”
“A little,” my sister admitted.
“Alex Marie Tucker! Do you think that you need secrets? You’ve already admitted to him you like sucking cocks!” Mom raised her voice slightly. She never did that with men – only other women and usually just us. “Remind me about the Girl Scout values, was it honesty or secrecy?”
“Honesty, Ma’am,” my sister blushed. Don seemed mildly amused that my sister was being put on the spot and not at all concerned that Alex was getting dressed down. I dealt with a customer who walked up while all of this was going on – hopefully, he wouldn’t freak out and run off.
“Then what’s the problem?” Mom continued, her voice calm but firm. “You’re not saying anything that goes against the truth, and you’re not breaking any rules. If I catch you whispering, I’ll assume you are trying to tell him something that you think I shouldn’t know and talking behind my back. How do you think that’s going to go for you?”
Mom had a point there. I hadn’t thought about it like that. Whispering was somewhat pointless at the booth, with us all being so close to one another.
“Not well, Ma’am,” Alex said.
Mom turned to Don, offering a polite smile. “Thank you for your patience. Sometimes, my girls need a little reminder about what’s expected of them. The least expensive box of cookies that you choose today is on the house. How is that?””
“Oh goodie,” the old man was giddy. He was already do change his order again.
“Did you hear my daughter’s answer to your question, Don?” she asked.
“Not particularly, I am a little HARD….of hearing,” the older man grinned over his own dirty joke.
“Alex, repeat his question and what the answer was so that this man can hear it,” Mom insisted.
“Don asked me if I liked going down on girls or guys better, and I said guys, and then he asked if I spat or swallowed, Ma’am. I told him that I swallowed.”
“You disgusting little tramp,” Mom frowned and shook her head. She apologized to Don and the man I was finishing up with, who had just purchased a box of Thin Mints. “Address your elder as Sir or call him Mister and his last name– not by his first name. You aren’t peers.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” my sister admitted. She asked Don if he minded giving her his last name if he had more questions for her.
Don grinned, clearly enjoying the situation. “Last name’s Prichard, but you can just keep calling me Don, sweetheart. I like how it rolls off your tongue.” He glanced at Mom with a wink. “Don’t think she minds much either, do you, Mrs. Tucker?”
Mom remained bright and cheerful when talking to Don, even though she was being so strict with my sister. “Mr. Prichard, if you’d like to be addressed as Don, that’s your choice, but I’ll insist Alex ask your preference properly. She’s not your equal, and it’s not her place to assume.”
Don gave a grin. “Fair enough. Don’s fine by me. No need for all that formality.”
Mom turned her gaze to Alex. “You’ll call him Don because that’s what he prefers. And remember, it’s a courtesy extended to you, not a right you’ve earned. Show him the respect his age and position deserve. He’s a customer, and he’s shown you the courtesy of asking about you – the least you can do is be fully honest and respectful.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Alex said quickly, glancing up at Don with a shy smile.
Mom’s attention shifted back to Don. “I appreciate you voluntarily spending time with my daughter. I am sure you have better things to do than delve into what a young bimbo likes to do under the covers when she has more freedom than she does good sense, Mr. Prichard.”
Don said that he should probably make up his mind on the cookies he wants and not be so nosy. He'd have probably left right after he said that if my Mom hadn’t continued to talk to him.
Mom’s attention shifted back to Don. “It’s not every day someone takes the time to ask her questions that make her think before she speaks. Feel free to ask anything you like—about Alex or even about Hailey or myself,” Mom said with a measured smile. “It’s a valuable learning experience for her, and I’m grateful you’re helping her reflect on what she does, why she does it, and how it looks to others.”
“I am just a bored old man with a little time on my hands,” Don perked up at her words. "I should probably have just made up my mind what cookies I wanted and be on my way, but since you are offering, then I may just do that.”
“That’s up to you, Mr. Prichard. We are here all day anyway, and the girls have nothing better they could be doing than learn a lesson from a kind gentleman like yourself,” Mom assured him politely and sweetly – like he was doing us a favor and not just trying to hear my sister talk about dirty stuff she enjoyed doing.
“Really?” Don brightened like my mother had just made his day. “I wouldn’t want to waste the opportunity. I am curious, Mrs. Tucker. How exactly are my questions teaching your daughter a lesson?”
Mom patiently explained, “You’re showing Alex, and by extension, my nosy daughter Hailey, who has been eavesdropping on your conversation, what it means to be considerate when someone takes an interest in her, and you’re giving her an opportunity to learn honesty even when a subject makes you uncomfortable.”
I blushed a little – Mom was okay with other people overhearing our conversations, but she frowned at me when she called me out for eavesdropping. There was no way that I could ignore the conversation.
“Too often, girls her age think they can hide behind modesty and secrets. But I’ve always taught my daughters that if they’re ashamed to admit something, they shouldn’t be doing it in the first place. Don’t you agree, Mr. Prichard?”
Don gave a slight nod, his grin still fixed in place. “I suppose that’s fair. Honesty is a good quality to instill.”
Mom smiled warmly but didn’t let up. “Exactly. Alex needs to understand that she doesn’t deserve privacy for things she’s proud to do. I’ve always told my girls that if they’d be embarrassed to tell a stranger about their choices, they shouldn’t be making them. And frankly, girls don’t need modesty. Secrets only encourage them to believe they’re entitled to privacy or discretion, and that’s not how they’ll learn to be honest with themselves or others.”
Alex and I knew this was my mother’s belief, and we’d been raised to believe it as well. We didn’t just pay it lip service – we still believe it. It was the traditional way that girls had been raised for years.
“She’s also learning to stay composed and gracious, even when embarrassed by admitting her lusty desires and the naughty things she does when she is allowed more freedom than she has good sense.”
My sister blushed and looked down at her feet. I handled a quick sale of a single box of cookies.
“Humiliation is far better teacher and kinder than flipping her over my knee and spanking that fat bottom of hers.” Mom gestured to Alex. Don smiled profusely at the mention of spanking.
“Show Mr. Prichard what I mean, darling. Turn around and hike your skirt up,” she said. My sister blushed and obediently turned and lifted her skirt revealing her big wide bubble butt. At least she was fortunate enough to wear white panties today – I had nothing on under my skirt.
“Imagine if any time I needed to teach my daughter a painful lesson, all I could do is spank that fat, jiggly bottom covered in padding? I’d break my paddle and wear out my arm, because she needs extensive education and constant supervision.”
“It’d be an exercise in futility with all that padding,” my mom said but admitted she still tries to reach us through corporal punishment as well because there is a point when we aren’t ashamed of even the naughtiest of behaviors. “I use every tool at my limited disposal, and one is to simply have an honest conversation with a nice gentleman.”
Don wasn’t really paying attention to my mom. He stared at my sister, holding her skirt up high in the back.
"Girls like her don’t deserve modesty. . if Alex has a shortcoming, or a flaw, or a bad habit, how can she expect to do anything about it if she can't even admit it to herself? You’re helping her understand that honesty and openness, even when it stings, are virtues she should embrace. She has a big ass, and showing you that as well might make her decide to take more steps and work off some of that flab. Panties down to your ankles, please."
My sister obediently bent over at the knees to avoid showing him her asshole and pussy and slid her panties around her ankles.
“Do you have a big, chunky ass, Alex?” Mom asked without looking in my sister’s direction.
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Alex was fortunate that at the moment that no one walked out of the Publix exit – or else they would have seen her big, pale ass mooning them by the Girl Scout cookies table.
“Jiggle your fat butt, and shake it, for Don,” she said before asking, “Would it be less humiliating if you had a smaller, cute butt like your sister and your butt cheeks didn’t clap back and forth like that?”
“Yes, Ma’am.” My sister repeated.
“Do you see what I have to deal with? Barely a response that tells me she really understands what I am teaching her,” Mom complained about Alex’s shy response. I knew why she was shy – she was utterly mortified. “Do you want to pull up your panties, or would you like to answer Mr. Prichard’s questions like you are?”
“Pull up my panties, Ma’am,” My sister responded quietly, obviously mortified.
“You may, but if I catch you whispering, waffling or, or lying, then I’ll make you stay like that until Mr. Prichard has finished teaching you a lesson. Now, thank Mr. Prichard for showing an interest in you.
My sister eagerly pulled her panties up, “Thank you, Mr. Prichard, for helping me learn and showing an interest in me.”
She quickly composed herself, while my Mom greeted the next person to come out of the grocery store – they JUST missed the free show of my sister’s bottom. “You can ask me anything, Don. Did you want to change your cookies now that you have a free box?”
He quickly showed her his new choice of cookies and pointed out the credited one. Don seemed a little confused that he only got the cheapest box for free. My sister isn’t the greatest at math, and she struggled to give him a new price.
After watching Alex fumble with the math and thanking him shyly, Mr. Prichard smirked and leaned in slightly. He was now far more comfortable just coming right out and asking her a naughty question. “Tell me something, Alex. Do you like sitting on a man’s face with that big, beautiful butt of yours?”
"I’ve never even thought about it," my sister admitted, her voice a mix of disgust and embarrassment. "I mean, I’ve had men ask, but… wouldn’t it crush them? Or, I don’t know, wouldn’t it stink or something?"
Alex had a good point, but hopefully, she wipes her butt, and it’s not THAT stinky down there.
Mr. Prichard chuckled, leaning just a little closer. “Well, that depends, doesn’t it? Maybe some men like the risk—or the stink. You’d be surprised what people enjoy.” His eyes lingered on her just long enough to make her squirm before he added, “But that’s the thing about trying new things, Alex. You won’t know unless you’ve got the guts to do it.”
Alex didn’t respond—her face went blank like her brain had checked out, leaving her standing there with nothing to say. I could see why my sister’s eyes glazed over. What exactly could you say to a comment like that? Mom shot her a sharp look, clearly unimpressed by her hesitation.
“Um, so did you have any other questions or want to change your order?” she asked, clearly uncomfortable and concerned Mom might make her humiliate herself again to teach her a lesson in not being cordial to a weird old man and answer all of his horny, perverted questions. He grinned, clearly enjoying her discomfort.
“Good girl,” he said with a wink, straightening up and grabbing a box of Thin Mints. “Actually, swap this for Lemon-Ups. No, wait—make it Samoas again. On second thought, let’s do two Samoas and a Thin Mint. No, just one Samoa. Keep up, sweetheart, I know you are a girl, but you aren’t very bright are you?”
Alex’s hands fumbled with the boxes as she tried to keep track, her cheeks still bright red.
“Mr. Prichard?” my mom said, coughing politely to get his attention. “My daughter is not very bright, but she’s a bit too dumb to know she isn’t very smart. That’s why I taught her to count up the cost of your order three times and then count up the cost of the boxes there again. With the free one I threw in, it’s taking her a lot longer. Do you want me to handle this for you, Sir? I am not that good at math either; none of us are.”
Don tilted his head, clearly enjoying the moment as he leaned on the table. “Oh, no, Mrs. Tucker, I think she’s doing just fine. It’s quite charming, really, watching her work so hard to keep up. Take your time, sweetheart,” he added with a sly grin directed at Alex.
Mom gave him a polite smile. “Well, you’re kind to be so patient, but don’t let her pretty face fool you into thinking she’ll get there any faster. If she trips over herself, just holler, and I’ll step in.”
My sister looked a little nervous, but she managed to shrug off being called stupid. “Actually, I have my Mathematics badge in Girl Scouts,” she finally added in her own defense.
“Honey, the bar is so low for girls and math; you only need a D or higher for one-grade period in basic Math to earn that badge,” Mom chuckled. “Just take the L and accept that we’re not cut out to be mathematicians. When God was handing out brains, he gave them to the guys with the cocks, and you ended up in the boob line.”
It is a bit of a back-handed insult to give us an award for getting at least a D in our math classes. Almost every Girl Scout I know has the Mathematics badge. My brothers patronized me when I first came home with mine because I was so happy to have another badge.
In retrospect, they were right to do it. I’ve been able to get D’s almost every semester since I’ve been in school in the basic Math and Science classes that are available to girls. I am usually right at C level if you consider my other grades.
“I’ve heard so many blonde Girl Scout jokes,” Don said with a grin. “I figured it was just a stereotype that you were all brainless bimbos.”
“Oh, I love those jokes,” Mom giggled. “There’s probably some truth to them.”
“How can you tell if a Girl Scout has been using the computer?” Don asked. Mom and my sister both shrugged, saying they didn’t know. “The joystick is wet!”
I didn’t get it, and neither did my sister, but we all laughed anyway—it’s only polite when a man’s trying to entertain us. Don lit up like he was the most popular guy on the planet. I guess that’s one of the positive things about scouting. You can make other people feel good about themselves. He got to laugh at us – but it’s not like we were going to shrivel up and die because he had a little flash of my sister’s panties and teased her.
“Hey, Alex, have you heard this one?” Don’s laugh was annoying and scratchy. “A guy is out one day in the woods and sees two Girl Scouts. They have cute little asses, so he sits down to watch what they are doing. One of them, she’s got huge knockers like yours. She digs a deep hole, working in the hot sun and sweating. The other Girl Scout is flat chested and grumpy, like your sister, what’s your name, Honey?”
“Hailey, Sir,” I replied politely.
“So, as soon as Alex, the Girl Scout, finishes digging that hole as deep as she can, here comes Hailey and she starts to fill it back in immediately. She pats it down nice and flat, and they start the process over again, just digging holes and filling them back in.”
My mom’s mouth hung open in anticipation of the punch line to come, and I have to admit I wanted to hear this one.
“So, my friend walks up and asks them why they are doing that, and they say that normally there are three of them out there planting trees in the woods, but the girl that puts the trees in the hole got lost in the woods, so they started without her!”
Mom laughed a little too hard, more at Don’s enthusiasm than the joke itself. “I guess some tasks don’t need a point to make sense to us girls, do they?”
Alex pretended to get it and laughed as well. “I guess the punchline’s supposed to explain why I get the shovel and Hailey just stands around?”
I wasn’t sure what the joke was supposed to mean, either. “How come we didn’t just leave the holes until we found the other girl to put the trees in?”
I knew we weren’t really in the woods when I asked the question. I was merely asking why our characters in the hypothetical situation didn’t at least do that much.
“We should probably have gone and looked for that girl!” Alex stuck her finger in her mouth with a look of concern. I assumed the joke had gone over my sister’s head completely.
“Where was I in all of this? I would have made the girls put the tree in before they filled up the hole!” My mom added with a stern look at the two of us like we had really done something that stupid. I wasn’t sure how much of this was my mom pretending to be an airhead or not.
“You were probably back in your bedroom, digging in your own hole with your fingers and wondering why they smell like poop when you are done, Julie,” Don’s sarcasm and intent were pretty clear on the joke.
“Mister Prichard!” My mom flashed the old man a lascivious smirk. “I think everybody goes digging in that hole when they want a quick thrill, don’t they? Even men.”
Don was shocked that my Mom was so forthcoming. She told him earlier that we had to be honest, but I don’t think he believed her.
“Wow, I didn’t expect you to be so blunt,” Don seemed quite pleased.
“We women are natural liars, but the Girl Scouts teaches absolute honesty,” Mom admitted. “I told you earlier when you were asking Alex those questions that you were helping reinforce that value. My daughters and I have to answer you truthfully, even if it’s humiliating or embarrassing. That’s a big part of Scouting!”
“I’ve always thought of honesty like a fart; it’s sometimes better to keep it yourself,” Don laughed dismissively. “You really are serious, huh? I thought you guys were just telling me what I wanted to hear so that I’d buy more cookies.”
“Only if what you want to hear is the truth. We aren’t allowed to be rude when we tell someone a truth about them, but we aren’t as polite when we talk about each other. If you want to smell my fingers for poop – you are welcome to have a sniff, Mr. Prichard. I don’t think you’ll smell any of my butt on my fingers.”
She offered him an opportunity to smell our fingers, but he declined. I’ve often found people don’t believe Girl Scouts do more than pay lip service to total honesty. It’s probably easy to assume because most women really are natural liars.
“What good is making up lies about ourselves to sell cookies? The cookies are yummy and sell themselves, Sir. I raise my daughters to be fully honest with everyone and to have no modesty. I am not ashamed of that.”
“That’s kind of sexy. Are you single?” Don smiled like he had a shot with my mother. She’s a beauty queen compared to this old pervert.
“No sir, I am married, and I don’t cheat on my husband. I am sorry.”
“That’s where you are lying. You aren’t sorry you can’t fuck me,” Don seemed vulnerable for a moment.
“That’s true; I am sorry that I had to say something that may hurt your feelings, Sir. You’ve been very engaging and considerate!” My mom apologized.
When I first became a Girl Scout, I was excited to talk to everyone and anyone that wanted to talk to me. My mother has never met a stranger. I wouldn’t say she is an extrovert, but she isn’t shy and she’s always warm and friendly to people that engage her.
I took after my mother’s example and fully embraced the Girl Scout’s code on honesty and being considerate to others. I still do, but over the years, I’ve had to reveal a lot of nasty, dirty things about myself whether I want to or not.
My sister has as well. It’s actually been good for her because I think she’d be much more bashful if she weren’t required to talk to people – even creepy old men. Don is relatively harmless, and even though his jokes went over my head – It wasn’t unpleasant to speak with him.
My mom believes that just like girls don’t need modesty, we also don’t need secrets.
This is a passage from the Girl Scout’s Handbook that I’ve been reading a lot lately.
Girls' Nature to Deceive
Excerpted from the Girl Scout’s Handbook Pg. 326
“Women don’t need to practice deceit and manipulation because we perfected it a long time ago.”
-Juliette “Daisy” Low
Founder of the Girl Scouts
The Girl Scouts’ policy of total honesty ensures that every girl confronts her natural inclination toward deceit and overcomes it through rigorous discipline. By rejecting privacy, deceitful attire, and secrecy, Girl Scouts learn to live fully exposed—flaws, fears, and all.
The natural state of undisciplined women is to engage in dishonesty. Just as girls are born with pussies, they are also born with the natural ability to lie without blinking, continue eye contact, and convince themselves that the lie was justified. Only a few men who become lawyers, salesmen, and politicians ever reach the levels of dishonesty that come naturally to females.
Honesty holds up a mirror to who you really are. It has the power to trigger frustration, resentment, hurt, or anger in others. However, lies can be even more painful and destructive than truth. A Girl Scout must deliver the truth fully, explicitly, and without omission when asked, regardless of how embarrassing or humiliating it may be.
Honesty about oneself or other women: Full exposure of flaws, wicked habits, perversions, or jealousies.
Honesty toward others: Delivered with deference and care when addressing men or leaders.
Confessing ones flaws, secrets, disgusting desires, wicked habits, perversions are encouraged at Girl Scout events and at home, through routine affirmations. Admitting one’s hatred, jealousy, envy of others is a healthy outlet as long as it is done respectfully toward men.
Open Dialogue, Even in Discomfort:
Scouts are taught to answer any question fully and explicitly, even if it embarrasses them. No subject is off-limits. Whether asked about their desires, habits, or secrets, they must respond truthfully.
Girls must be prepared to not only deliver truth, but to receive it – bluntly, crassly, and without concern for their modesty or feelings.
If someone asks for the truth, a Girl Scout must deliver it fully and explicitly. It is trained from day one of entering the Program Daisy and constantly reinforced through regular discipline and constant supervision to ensure that a Girl Scout cannot maintain secrecy or deceit.
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EddieDavidson
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Re: Girl Scout Cookies (Revised all chapters)
Questions for readers:
1. What do you think should happen if the girls are caught masturbating? is it/should it be considered a bad thing? or encouraged?
2. What do you think should happen in terms of dating?
3. What do you think regarding public restrooms, if girls don't need modesty, would it be reasonable for male janitor/males to use their bathroom?
All of my stories: https://storiesonline.net/a/eddie-davidson
The site is free up to 100 chapters a day. You can get unlimited just for submitting stories.
The site is free up to 100 chapters a day. You can get unlimited just for submitting stories.
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flashharry
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Re: Girl Scout Cookies (Revised all chapters)
Suggestions.EddieDavidson wrote: ↑Wed Jan 29, 2025 8:42 pm
Questions for readers:
1. What do you think should happen if the girls are caught masturbating? is it/should it be considered a bad thing? or encouraged?
2. What do you think should happen in terms of dating?
3. What do you think regarding public restrooms, if girls don't need modesty, would it be reasonable for male janitor/males to use their bathroom?
1. If caught doing anything under their skirt, then losing the skirt altogether. Certainly lose any knickers "as wetness would be unhealthy."
2. Dating could be ok, with the girls encouraged to allow the boy access to all areas!
3. Of course, whoever is cleaning the bathrooms must be allowed to do their job unhindered.
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