MARY CHRISTMAS (original story for ENF forum)

[student]

I'm glad that some of my suggestions were useful but EddieDavidson did all the work--including sorting out the worthless suggestions. Panning for gold is skillful, and then you have to smelt the ore and fashion the jewelry. You're welcome, but you did the hard work.

[EddieDavidson]

Student, I went through a range of emotions while I wrote.

I had the parents start off harsh, trying to knock sense into the girls after the stepbrother made them look like total sluts - he planted booze, smokes, in their room, tricked them into going outside naked and locked the door. then he gave them shoes, gloves, and hot chocolate (with salt instead of sugar) and warm panties from the dryer, which they accepted.

anything was better than frosty asses, but he ironed on things like "Anal Whore" to the back, and when the main character notices she ditches them - too late, parents rolling up and they notice them throwing their panties away. Kind of hard to get out of that one.

Ethan tells the parents they were down by the road flashing truckers, and even makes it look like it with pictures, even though he had dared them to run to it and around the property line. That's all in there. He even shows them pictures when they adjusted themselves to keep their pussies from freezing, to say they were full on masturbating. The evidence is so surreal, that I felt the parents would be inclined to take immediate and drastic steps. I wanted to paint them as good people, in a situation they were not prepared for/didn't expect trying to enforce "Tough love" on jaded girls who were playing with butt plugs and probably either stealing, or selling sex for booze - because they had no other way they may have got the things that Ethan planted in their room. The washer/dryer was a good touch, because now even if they WANTED the girls to wear clothes, there wasn't much they could wear - maybe an old raggedy t-shirt from Dad's closet, but nothing the boys wore would fit.

You'll see that they soften their approach. My fear was that the reader would be bummed out and see this all as abuse. There are some things that I do as foreshadowing in the story but they are so subtle, that I was afraid the reader would not notice. I was trying to signal to the reader not to go down that path and think that's where this story lead, but friends who read it all seemed to think the parents were dicks and that really wasn't my intention.

If I were to write this story over entirely, I think I would go another way entirely. However, my goal now is to perform basic pass of editing (if you see issues, especially with continuity let me know) and post it up as is.

I'll decide later if I want to set up another similar scenario and tell a variation of it. I love the juxtaposition of the girls as polar opposites. That's my favorite part of it.

[EddieDavidson]

After our punishment, I was somewhat bewildered about the tingling sensation in my butt cheeks and around my pussy. If you can imagine electric impulses like wisps floating in the breeze, turning on and off their lights under your skin, except when the light turns out, it sends out a pleasurable but fleeting burst of pain relief – that was what it was like.

It was strangely arousing, and of all my conflicting emotions, that was one.

The other was through the pain that I had endured, I felt closer than ever to my mother. I should have hated her. My thoughts moments after I got off her lap were she was a raging psychopathic hypocrite.

After some introspection, I understood how she got caught up in the emotion of the moment. It was intense. I lost track of time; there was a moment when I had almost gone away to some sort of place in my mind to avoid the pain or perhaps to just exist within it. I didn’t know much about Zen meditation. Still, I wrote a paper on it back in 8th grade, and the closest frame of reference I had was that it was like a split-second that lasted for five minutes, and I didn’t exist. The pain wasn’t real, but it was everywhere around me.

I know that sounds like gibberish, but that was the best I can do to describe this surreal, almost out-of-body experience that may have been entirely psychosomatic. My best guess was it was my body’s automatic reaction to extreme pain attempting to pull me out of it and help me endure it.

My mom brought me a razor and scissors, told me to take care of my hair, and apologized softly again for her language and temper. We were alone, whispering in the hallway directly between the bathroom and my room.

“Nothing good comes from seeds planted with anger. I used those words because I thought they might make you feel the hurt that I felt when I knew you used them, and I regret it.”

“It’s okay,” I said.

“It’s not okay. We are not done with your restriction just because I lost my cool. I will go to my room and pray and see you bright and early in the LIVING room. You had better set your alarm so you have time to wash up and prepare. I am putting you to work tomorrow at six A.M. Your restriction won’t be easy, and I won’t be easy on you just because I lost my cool once.”

“I know that, Mom,” I replied.

“There were some things I said that I meant tonight, but they got jumbled up with foul language,” she said, placing her hand on my shoulder. I wondered what those things were. I didn’t have to wait for her to tell me. “I told your father that I think the best medicine for what you did is more of it because I truly believe that by the end of December, you’ll regret today and never flash again. I think you regret that you got caught, but I mean truly and deeply change into the woman that I know you CAN be through the administration of some tough love.”
I didn’t know what tough love meant, and she clarified.

“Tough love can seem like abuse if people don’t understand it. It’s the last resort when someone you love can’t be reached any other way. My brother was an alcoholic, and tough love was cutting him off until he reached a point where he asked for help. He HAD to hit rock bottom and lose everything. He went through an endless cycle of lost jobs, broken relationships, and DUI, and he would show up on someone’s doorstep. We’d fix him up, get him right, and he’d go right back out and do it again. It wasn’t until he burned every bridge and we truly let him fall that he was able to pick himself up.”

That sounded horrible.

“I know; I can see it on your face that you don’t understand. I wouldn’t have at your age either. It’s called being cruel to being kind. You may come to hate me through this, but we are doing this for a better outcome for you, and I am going to ride your ass. Tough love is deliberately being strict or harsh with someone you care about to help them overcome a problem or make positive changes in their life, even if it might seem unkind at the moment; now do you understand, Mary?”

I admitted that I didn’t fully.

“In your case, it’s taking everything you took for granted away and making you earn it back. It’s taking simple things like a meal and making it unpleasant by having you stand. Your father wanted you to sit on towels at the table and eat normally, but I convinced him that by making it harder for you, you’ll have to work harder to join us again.”

She seemed like she wanted my approval for that.

“Mary, you crave attention. You can tell me you are shy, but it’s always the quiet ones,” Holly said. She was grossly mistaken. “The attention you will receive from your father and me is a different kind than you crave. I DID not intend to hurt your feelings tonight during your spanking. I just went about it the wrong way in front of my sons, and when you said I didn’t have the right to say those things, it made me angrier with you to correct me.”

I said I was sorry again for that, but I didn’t like her admission she was trying to hurt my feelings.

“I needed to get through to you. I wanted you to understand what is and isn’t acceptable, and bragging about taking it up the pooper, isn’t it,” she said. She looked over her shoulder and was talking in hushed tones. “I know you think I am a hypocrite for not practicing what I preach about vulgarity, but I am an adult, Mary. I can say ass, shit, fuck, and even cock when I am talking to adults. I don’t ordinarily do that around my kids. I made an exception for you just now because you need to know that I KNOW those words; I grew up AROUND those words. I know it’s not a back hole. I know what it really is.”

That actually made sense, and now I felt worse for calling her a hypocrite.

“You use dirty words all the time, and I am positive about that. You wouldn’t use them in front of me or at school because you know better. It’s a matter of knowing when and when you cannot say them. I wouldn’t use those words in church, but I might when I am having a beer with some adults.”

I looked askance at Holly.

“Do you think I only drink southern tea? Yes, your mom occasionally cracks open a beer, Mary. Look, I am leveling with you because I want you to know something. I wanted to get through to you in a language that you could understand tonight. If Ethan and Nick weren’t here, I would write anal whore right across your ASS and make you strut around the house while I laugh at you until you finally feel shame. I’d make you show everyone in town and confess to them that you streaked the highway until you were embarrassed enough about your actions that you’d never do them again. I think small measures won’t work with you and your sister. You were flashing truckers, so being nude may not be enough. I hope I am wrong, but I need to take you down a peg or two for your own good. That’s tough love, Honey. You are too big for your britches. That is what I wanted to say to you tonight. I took those britches away, and I’ll give them back when and if you learn to behave and not before. If I find out you like walking around without them, I’ll find a way to reach you.”

“I understand,” I said.

“I don’t think you do. I think you and your sister need attitude adjustments, and once we strip your pride, egos, and perverse desires, we can build you back up again the way you were supposed to be. It’s a painful process, but it has to be this way.”

I turned to head to the bathroom. It was just across from my room, and the door hinges were already off. My sister was lying face up on the bare mattress, staring at the ceiling. “There will be no privacy from now on. I'll be searching your room randomly, and you need to earn that back, along with everything else.”

The ordeal was over... for now. I was alone in the bathroom. I checked out my butt in the mirror. It was red, and I could see the strap marks. I also clenched my butt cheeks to see how that looked and then pulled them apart to get an idea of what my “bottom hole” looked like and what it took to actually expose it just by walking like Joy sometimes did.

I removed my makeup first; I always do that. I wear minimal makeup, but a little of it ran tonight during the tears. Mom said we wouldn’t be wearing anymore for a while, so I put my makeup away and told myself to just forget it. It wasn't as important to me as it was for my sister Joy. I told myself I’d comply with the consequences my parents gave me. However, my thoughts were focused on what my mom told me privately in the hallway.

I wondered why she told me what she did. I wasn’t sure if it was a warning that things may escalate.

The hot water from the shower was a tonic for the muscle aches, stress, and my sore bottom.

I began to soap myself up with scents of pure eucalyptus that soothing me with a cool temperature, enveloping me like deweyed floral bubbles in its wake. You can probably guess that I was thrilled to just be alone in the shower for a moment after the spanking rocked my world. It was like I was a reset for my mind, and for a moment, I forgot any of this had ever happened.

I took a long pee, cleaned and trimmed my nails, and took care of everything I needed to do before returning to the tub to shave my legs.

I’ve done that many times, and I’ve suffered a few knicks before, but I wasn’t worried about that. I planned to be careful. I had NEVER shaved my pussy – my ENTIRE pussy. My Mom told me to get rid of my lady hairs, and I wondered how I’d look. This was probably intended to degrade me and make me feel like a slut, and I assumed it would work.

I wasn’t sure what that would accomplish. My mother seemed to think this was some bitter pill I had to swallow. I was quite frankly afraid that I’d cut my pussy lips in the process. I had to use an old can of Barbasol to shave my legs. It’s been in the cabinet since we moved to this trailer. It has rust on the bottom, but it seems like it never runs out of cooling cream.

I briefly considered playing with myself and rubbing the cream all over my pussy but decided against it. I didn’t want to get caught somehow and get in trouble.

Once I finished shaving my legs, I had one project left to complete. I had to shave my pussy bald. I used the scissors to trim off most of the big hair and threw that away. It was a LOT of hair. I had never trimmed it up before. I knew it should be done; I just hadn’t thought much about it.

It was definitely unseemly and thick, much thicker than I even realized. I couldn’t figure out how I was supposed to actually shave my pussy. I opted to squat in the bathtub, spread my knees wide, and then just have at it. It took five times shaving to finally get rid of all the hair that I had grown since I started puberty – there it was. A completely bald pussy. I assumed this was to humiliate me, and I felt it definitely would. The razor was utterly spent by the time I finished.

I had to pull open folds and flaps, and I didn’t even realize that I had to get all the tiny inner hairs in between my labia, but finally, I was able to clean off all the shaving cream and examine myself in the mirror.

It was a startling difference – my pussy was bald! The reality was kicking in. I wasn’t sure if the intention was to make me look less mature by making hairless like I hadn’t started puberty, but there was another reason I suspected my mother knew this would really humiliate me.

The smoothness of my skin initially felt kind of nice, but now I couldn’t stop looking at the bald patch between my legs. The most horrifying part was now I could finally see what my pussy REALLY looked like.

I had a general idea of the position of my labia. My pubic hair covered almost everything. You could only see two little bumps sticking out of the bottom.

The last time I had seen my clit it was MUCH smaller, and I was just starting to grow pubic hair. I had almost no clitoral hood, and my clit protruded out like a tiny mushroom-shaped penis. I was fascinated by it and horrified.

It didn’t look anything like porn models' vaginas, and other than some frisky kissing with a few girls back home, I had minimal experience with female anatomy – at least not this part. It was EXTREMELY sensitive, so much so that it hurt when I flicked it up and down. It made me horny just playing with it. I stroked it like a penis and found that I had involuntarily sat down on the toilet, spread my legs, and started playing with myself. It had been a long day, and tomorrow might be a hard one. I gave myself permission to enjoy it, and soon, I was mastering what felt good and what did not.

Squeezing it like I was squishing it or even mashing down on it was doing heavenly things to me. I didn’t like it for too long, but every now and then, it was like an instant pleasure button. The next time I had sex with a guy, I planned to press it whenever the game finally cums and then give myself an orgasm at the same time that he finishes.

Shaving my pubic hair off seemed like a blessing and a curse. On one hand, I knew people would be shocked by the size of my clit and the starkness of the absence of pubic hair, and if my mother’s goal was to embarrass me, that would do it.

However, I had discovered that I hadn’t been using this part of my pussy at all for myself. I usually put two fingers in my pussy to get off, and didn’t really do it for me. It was all about giving my clit little circular motions, pulling it, and squishing it – it was my new toy.

*THUMP* THUMP*

I was startled, who was knocking.

“You have been in there a VERY long time, Mary. What are you doing?” My mom started to open the door without waiting. I stood up quickly, and I probably looked like I was doing something, but at least I wasn’t deep in the throes of an impressive self-induced orgasm.

Holly’s face suggested she thought she caught me doing something when she opened the door.

“I just finished shaving like you asked; it took me six times to get it all off,” I said as I tapped my clit briefly with my thumb and put my hands to my side.

“What did you do? Why did you shave it all off?”

“You said to trim off my lady hairs!”

“Trim them UP; you had a jungle down there. You WANT everyone to see your lady parts, don’t you? You did this to spite me?”

“What? No, I heard you tell me to shave, and I shaved, Ma’am. I am not trying to spite anything; why would I dig myself in deeper?”

“You are telling me you don’t know everyone is going to look at your little flap, dang, doodle, waving in the wind now?”
I knew she meant my clit.

“I thought that was the idea. You wanted me to be humiliated, and you were going make me walk around calling myself an anal whore, and wearing it written on my butt, so I just complied. I am so sorry, Mom!”

“I bet,” Holly didn’t believe me. She looked me over and saw that I removed my makeup, trimmed down my nails, and sniffed me before deciding I must have washed. “I probably should have just gone in there with you and made sure you did it right, but that’s my fault. I don’t know if you did it on purpose for attention or if you did it because you think that I would have told you to shave yourself completely, but I will give you the benefit of the doubt. Tomorrow, though, if anyone laughs at the size of that thing, don’t say that I didn’t warn you!”

I blushed just thinking about it. I knew I had screwed up, but it was too late. I was tempted to ask my father if I could wear something – even a thong, my bald pussy- the cool air in the trailer across my clit was already making me realize it was going to make being naked even more difficult for me. I’d even put on a jolly green elf costume if that's what it took.

She wished me goodnight with a light pop on the butt and said, “Good night, and you know that I am hard on you because I love you, right? I want the best for you?”

I hoped that was true, as I said, “Yes, Ma’am.”

My sister was already on her bed, lying flat and looking at the ceiling in a dark room. She had already showered and cleaned herself up. “Do you know what I hate the most about this, Sis?” she whispered. All day today, she had seemed bewildered, scared, and ashamed, but now she appeared vivacious again, somewhat calm.

“There are so many things I could choose from; I wouldn’t know where to begin,” I laughed as I hopped onto my bare mattress and tried to make the best of it. They even took my pillow.

“I had to put away my makeup! Mom said that will teach me to be humble,” she joked.

“Is it working?” I grinned.

“No, I am just bummed about it.”

“Wait, are you serious? It wasn’t getting locked out in the snow and freezing your butt off, getting whooped in front of everyone? Not having sheets or a door? Having to be naked for the next month over Christmas?”

“When you put it that way, yes, but they aren’t going to lock us out anymore, and the spanking is done and over, so now all we have to do is behave ourselves and clean up. It’s not going to be that bad, at least we are doing it together?”

“You always find a way to look on the bright side, Sis,” I told her with gratitude. My sister is the eternal optimist.

“Did you like the spanking?” she asked after a few quiet seconds.

“Like it? How would I have liked it?”

“No reason,” she answered. “What did you like about today besides running together in the snow at first when we thought we’d be able to complete all the dares?”

“It’s hard to say that I liked any of it. What about you?”

“I am still thinking about it,” she admitted. “I am lying here trying to figure out why I am so horny all of a sudden. It’s chilly in our room, and there is a draft, and I’ve just been really turned on. It’s not just being naked, that’s doing it.”

We normally don’t openly discuss how turned on we are with each other, so this was coming out of left field to me.

“I probably shouldn’t have said anything, but I thought maybe you were too, and that would help me feel less weird about it,” she admitted.

“I admit that I have a hard time thinking erotic or sexy thoughts about our situation, but I think if you are turned on, it might just be that after all the adrenaline running through your body from the spanking and the drastic changes that now that you are resting the signals are turning to dirty thoughts?”

“What’s Drenalin?”

“It’s something your body produces when you are excited to help your energy and make your blood flow,” I said.

“Oh yeah, I am incredibly wet; that’s called Drenalin?”

I chuckled and told her that was something else entirely.

“You probably noticed this before, but maybe not, and so I thought I’d ask first,” she asked after another couple of seconds.

“What’s that?”

“When we go to bed, I usually pull the covers up and start playing with myself. I assume you hear because it sounds like I am stirring macaroni and cheese, and you are just too polite to say anything. Are you going to mind if I just go ahead and do it now?”

I had never heard my sister masturbate, and this question was also coming out of nowhere.

“Yeah, go ahead and do it; I won’t watch,” I said.

I heard her start touching herself, and it sounded like she was stirring thick macaroni cheese, and now I can never forget that. “You can watch if you want; I don’t mind that. I just didn’t want to bother you.”

“You know you could go in the bathroom to do that, right?” I told her.

“I could, but you said you don’t mind, and if I get caught in there it may count as one of our bathroom breaks,” she said.

“If you get caught in HERE, it could get us another spanking!!” I warned in a hushed whisper.

She didn’t answer. Joy brought her fingers up to her huge nipples and began to play with those while using one hand to frig herself. I could see her young body in silhouette from the light of the moon. After five minutes of listening to her coo and touching herself, I started to do the same thing to myself.

My sister didn’t say anything, and I am not sure if she could see me in the darkness. We openly masturbated together on opposite beds in the darkness for about fifteen minutes, and I played with my new “toy.” That’s what I named my clit. It was like having a complete add-on to the entire pussy experience, and it gave me so many options. I could really have fun when I inserted two fingers inside of myself with one hand and mash down my clit with my thumb. I didn’t squish it so hard that it hurt, but the pressure really turned me on and gave me “Drenalin” juice for sure.

I set my alarm for 5:50 am, just to be extra certain we’d be up. I was surprised to see that my sister was already awake and getting up without the need for the alarm. “Oh good, you set an alarm! New day! Hopefully, this one is more fun than yesterday!” she said as she stretched and let out a morning yawn.

Joy was chipper and eager to start, and that helped me to remain optimistic that it wouldn’t be that bad today. Now that the morning light was peeking through our window, she was shocked to see that I had shaved my pussy completely.

“Oh my god!”

“I know!” I admitted with chagrin. “I thought that mom said to shave completely, but she just wanted me to trim. I misunderstood. I thought she was trying to humiliate me further.”

“Humiliate you? How would that embarrass you? You look hot! I can only grow a few blonde hairs. I’ve always wanted to have a thick grown woman’s bush like yours,” she said.

I had no idea my sister admired my bush.

“I want to do that too! Wow,” Joy admired my pussy even more closely.

“I wouldn’t recommend it; she was pissed when I did it and said that I’d probably be ridiculed.”

“Because of your big clit? I wish I had one like that. Does it feel good when you play with it?”

I smiled and admitted that it did. There was no point in keeping that a secret.

“If I had one of those, I’d probably tie a string to it so I could play with it like a Yo-Yo all day long,” Joy pantomimed, holding her finger up and working a clit like a puppet.

“I never knew I had one, I mean, I knew there was a clit, I just never played with it because it was buried under hair,” I explained.

“Oh my god, I love my clit, that’s the best!”

All this open talk about our pussies was making me strangely aroused, and I reminded my sister we had to be in the living room in a few minutes. I had to pee, but I knew we had to meet my Mom in the living room at 6am and we had defined bathroom breaks, so I held it, and we walked out into the living room to wait.

My mom was already up and waiting for us with a nice warm cup of coffee. She was quietly sitting in the same chair she had been in to give us a spanking the night before. “That spanking must have done some good. You two are up extra early, huh?” she smiled.

Holly didn’t seem as menacing as she had been last night. Instead, she remained quietly stern but not so much that she seemed like an ogre or a bully.

“Yes, Ma’am!” I replied.

“Good, your father or I will be up to meet you every morning at this time. If no one is here, we discussed it, and you can just start cleaning up the living room and kitchen until someone does get up. The first thing I’ll do is send one of you to the bathroom. Do either of you have to go right now?”

I raised my hand and looked at Joy to see if she could wait. She shrugged.

“Great, go ahead, Mary. You have 15 minutes. Please don’t shave that thing again,” she pointed to my bald pussy with a bit of a chuckle. “It’s going to take me a little while to getting used to seeing that flap-dang-doodle hanging there like a tiny penis. I could probably hang a little bell on it to let me know where you are at all times,” she joked.

I hoped she was joking.

“You could tie a string to it and lead her around by it,” Joy’s playful comment didn’t have a trace of sarcasm or sadism. It was a horribly humiliating mental image, but in Joy’s context, she was joining in on the joke and not trying to heap further embarrassment on me.

I knew it was inspired by her earlier suggestion that if she had a clit like mine, she’d play with it all day with a string. I offered them both a lemony smile and accepted the joke.

“Oh my, your sister has a great idea,” Holly teased. “Okay, go on and get ready. Shower, brush your teeth, and get yourself presentable, too! I know you don’t have a watch, so just mind your time. Leave the door unlocked, and I’ll knock if I think you’ve been in there too long.”

Holly was strangely different from the night before. I kept wondering while I was in the shower why she wasn’t being overbearing. I wondered if she was just trying to lull me into a false sense of security. I admired my clit in the mirror for a moment. It truly did resemble an incredibly small penis. I didn’t have time to play with myself, though. I made sure to thoroughly wash up and hurried back out.

When I returned, I was surprised to hear Christmas music playing in the background at a low volume. It was “Rocking Around the Christmas Tree,” an old classic by Brenda Lee. Holly and my sister were bopping their heads and dancing around, hanging balls on the tree.

“That was fast, good job,” Holly smiled at me when she saw me. I stood wide-eyed and curious as I tried to reconcile the woman who spanked my ass the night before and the woman I saw today happily decorating for Christmas.

I think she could sense why I was confused. “I don’t mind if you girls listen to music at a very low volume in the morning. I always do. You won’t wake up your brothers, and I doubt I ever woke you up either?”

We nodded that she hadn’t.

“It’s an energizing way to start your morning. I don’t just listen to Christian Gospel, you know? I like 80s music, and Christmas is my favorite time of year. Why do you think I was so happy to marry your father? Now, I am Holly Christmas,” she joked before sending my sister to the bathroom with the same instructions she gave me and a warning NOT to shave off all of her pubic hair.

She invited me to join her in adding ornaments to the tree. We had a hodge podge of ornaments that Holly had collected over the year. My father tried to do Christmas before he married my mom, but he was never really that into it. We didn’t bring any of the ornaments from where we lived in Chicago with us.

“Ethan made this when he was five years old,” she said with pride as she held up a clay statuette that had been painted to look like Mary holding baby Jesus.

“I wanted to talk to you about last night,” she said. I listened and helped put up the ornaments, careful not to bend in a way that would expose my “back hole,” as she called it.

“I said some things while I spanked you that I regret, and I said some things in the hallway in the hopes of scaring you straight. I don’t know how to do this, Mary. I’ve never had daughters before. My parents were VERY strict with me, and I learned respect at an early age.”

Holly was being vulnerable and honest with me.

“A part of me believed you when you said that Ethan gave you a dare to run outside naked yesterday, and I refused to believe it. I was angry at you for telling me that my little boy could do something like that. I realized he’s growing up, and he likes girls, and even though he IS your brother, he has only recently met you. He doesn’t have any other girls around, and you and your sister are very beautiful.”

I didn’t consider myself beautiful. I thanked her.

“It’s true, and I hate to think he’d dare you into doing something naughty. However, last night, I couldn’t sleep after our conversation. I prayed about it, and then I talked to your father, thought some more, and realized that I used to play truth or dare games when I was your age. Your father did, too.”

That was an odd revelation.

“It’s a normal rite of passage. We used to play a game called “I will show you mine, if you show me yours” and spin the bottle. It’s a real possibility that Ethan DID that. I wasn’t there, and I can’t say for sure. I am going to show the boys today through my example how I want it to be when we are not here, but if they are rude, crude, or naughty when we are not here, I don’t want you to speak about it in front of them. I want you to come to me and your father privately.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I nodded in gratitude.

“You are all my children, and I love you all equally, but if you put me on the spot in front of Ethan, I may not be as objective because he’s always been my baby. It’s been me and him for so long against the world, just the two of us, after his father passed. I think it would also cause a confrontation and just make things harder.”

I was happy to hear we had a lifeline.

“Will you believe me though?”

“I will be honest, Mary. I am not sure. You’ve refused to answer where you got the money to buy the butt plug from. You may have stolen it, or some guy may have given it to you. I can’t trust you completely, and I won't for a while. However, if you come to me, and especially if you bring some proof, then I will consider it, and that’s all I can promise. I want you to know that you CAN come to me and your father. I would prefer you to come to us BOTH, though, and I realize that last night I might have given you the impression that I don’t want to hear anything bad about Ethan. I don’t, but that doesn’t mean I may not have to listen if it’s true.”

That was really sensational. I thanked her for saying that.

“Can I ask you a question, woman to woman, and it stays with me?”

Wow, I said yes immediately.

“How did you fit that thing in your tiny little backdoor? I’ve seen your butthole, and it’s tighter than a jar of molasses left out in a January freeze.”

I gave her an incredulous stare as a reply. I didn’t get the reference, but I also didn’t expect the question at all.

“That’s just something we say in Texas; it means tight,” she explained and added “It’s not a trick to get you to admit it belongs to you. I am sure Joy played with it, too, but that thing is a bit of a whopper. I was just surprised and wondering. I hope you use a lot of lube.”

I didn’t want to repeat that it wasn’t my mind; I blushed and looked at the ball.

“You are a very hard person to figure out, Mary Christmas,” she said after a few quiet minutes, pinning up some Star Trek ornaments. She had Mister Spock, Captain Kirk, and even Lieutenant Uhura, and we hung them close to each other like a tiny landing party that beamed into our Christmas tree. If you press a button on the bottom, it plays a few seconds of the classic TV show theme music.

“How so?”

“You do come across as shy and smart, and you are so well-spoken. You use fifty-cent words like they cost a dime, and I’ll be honest, that’s why it seemed obvious you were too big for your britches from the day I met you. Then you have this wild side and don’t deny running down to the road as naked as you are now. I made you blush to talk about your butt plug, but I still can’t decide if walking around naked is exciting you or doing what it ought to be doing and acting as a proper consequence.”

“If you are asking if I am embarrassed being naked or talking about butt plugs, yes, I am. If you are asking if I am a little worried that people will laugh at my big clit now that I shaved, then yes, I am. I can’t convince you I don’t have a wild side, but if I did, don’t you think I would be thrilled to show off my body?”

“You would if it was your choice, under the conditions you set, when you want, how you want, and to who you want, but if you had anal whore painted on your forehead and butt and had to walk around with that butt plug sticking out your rear end, even the biggest extrovert would probably feel humiliated. I know I would be deeply ashamed if I had to do what you are doing. Your father thinks we don’t have to go that extreme, and I agree with him, at least for now.”

That was scary. I changed the subject.

“You are a complex woman as well,” I said.

“I am what you see is what you get, as simple and easy as a pat of warm butter on toast.”

“You have all these country sayings and wisdom, but you also like Science Fiction,” I touched the Star Trek decorations as an example.

“Just because I am from the country, it doesn’t mean we don’t have Star Trek. We don’t just watch Bonanza,” she chuckled. “These aren’t actually my ornaments; they belonged to my husband, and I never got rid of them. He loved Star Trek.”

I was really moved by her sentiment.

[Payton]

Great story! But focusing just on the mom, it feels like your backtracking her abusive and favouritism attitude just for the sake of not making her seem abusive. Of course, there wouldn't be a story if she wasn't going to carry out her role and discipline on the girls so it's hard to change it anyways.

[student]

Reading this story makes me appreciate "innocent until proven guilty" all the more. I'd get beaten up for asking the stupid question: "8mm, 16mm, 35mm, wide screen 70mm?" When I'd get the "huh?" I'd say "you're projecting."

WHAM! Violent people have fragile egos. Holly isn't violent but she is easily insulted and seems to have read Mary as snobbish--when shyness was the motivation for Mary's reservation. Now Mary has more reason to be reserved. Fifty-cent words!

"Mom, I can tell that you haven't sniffed that butt plug thing--or you would have guessed that it hasn't been used." That can backfire in so many ways--what if Ethan HAD used it on himself?

[EddieDavidson]

The parents aren't violent or abusive. They are reacting to an impossible news that the girls have been using buttplugs, reading gay porn mags, smoking, drinking (and won't say where they got them/had no money to do so, so they either fucked for it or stole them), broke washer and dryer intentionally, ruined ALL their clothes, and wore panties like "anal whore" on the back while flashing and masturbating for truckers.

Hit with overwhelming evidence, they react harshly, but as the story progresses they will soften and realize they over-reacted.

I say this because while it is a spoiler, I am not promoting abuse in a Christmas story (or any story).

That's should be clear from everything I have said about it. Given both of your reactions reading that into the narrative, I think it's best I kill this story and leave it be. I put a lot of effort into it but you aren't the first to come away with some idea that the parents are psychotic since they decided to enforce tough love on an extreme situation and over-reacted. I was actually putting nude rules on hold while i wrote a new ending because the karma for Ethan IMHO was not sufficient and the ending felt rushed.

[student]

Aw. I was looking forward to reconciliation.

Where did Ethan get the money for those things?

Perhaps if I just shut up...

[EddieDavidson]

It's definitely a spoiler, but there is a whole backstory about that, which would be revealed later in the story.

I am okay with you talking about it and I can send you the rough edits privately. Not every story idea can be a winner.

I wanted a tough love scenario, and to me parents that are flawed and make mistakes, including being overly aggressive seemed realistic.

In a later chapter, Holly apologizes for losing her shit. I had to have her lose her shit, so she could seem fallable and make a connection with the girls through the shared experience. I also had dad cup his hands when spanking the girls. I describe how sis feels the impact but thinks maybe she should be bawling like younger sis and she's surprised it really doesn't do more than bruise her ego to be seen in her father's lap getting whacks.

Holly on the other hand goes the other direction because I find people who are repressed and use words like "Back Hole" are actually quite deviant when you pull back the facade. Later, she realizes that her restrictions on language are antiquated and based on her upbringing and tells the kids they can use the word butthole, vagina and boobs because they all know and use those words, and if they can SEE those things, they can say them.

She just wants it kept at home, and not allowed in places like church or around others. She learns to loosen the restrictions through this experience.

That was how it goes, obviously later even with the restriction lifted, Ethan continues to try to tease the girls and I was rewriting that, but if I have to repeatedly explain this to people, it really chaffs my cork. I've seen dozens of stories with parents who say things like girls don't need modesty, and have rules at home that are females instead of boys and I've never seen these sort of comments . I guess I may not read hard enough, but this is not the story for this forum.


I'll post it up on SOL, but there comments are turned off, so the people that want to read it can read it, and the people who think it's Tiny Tim getting his head rubbed in the mud on Christmas morning with an iron boot, can choose not to do that. it's like a Gilded age story. Oliver Twist has to go through a ton of bad shit before he has a Horatio Alger style outcome.

That's the whole thing.

If you ever watch the Hallmark channel in Germany, they make exactly TWO Christmas movies with slight variation.

#1 - the Bad Father, which judging by people who decide that the entire movie will be a movie about violent abuse because they watched the first few minutes when we established how this guy is a dick around Christmas time and ignores his wife's basic needs and his kids, in order to close the Anderson deal, or whatever.

The people who think my story is all about abuse, wouldn't like that movie and would switch it off after 20 minutes.


For the rest of us, we know how it goes. Bad Father will have a crises over Christmas that teaches him the value of family, and he will learn to be a good father in the end, and we fade out to them in a perfect house throwing snowballs with him and his wife laughing and having fun with the kids after he blows the entire Anderson deal on purpose.

#2- The hot shot executive bitch who goes home for the Holidays but really has to get that assignment done by Monday of next week. She meets her high school sweet heart selling Christmas trees, and he's ruggedly handsome but has no ambition to do more than selling 40 dollar Christmas trees every Christmas.

For some reason they fall in love about the time the asshole who treats her like a trophy in New York city arrives to schedule their wedding so he can go golfing right after. She has to make a choice, and naturally she picks the Christmas tree guy, and either makes the deadline and becomes the ex-boyfriends boss, or tells them to fuck off and sells Christmas trees in Bucksnort Tennesse with ruggedly handsome guy.

To the people who only watch the first 20 minutes and decide the entire movie is going to go that way, i guess maybe the woman is psychotic or the executive she was dating in New York was. I am really not sure.

I've posted chapter 2 already of Mary Christmas on SOL, with one additional photo and edits that I made from the original version.

[student]

This describes the plot of "It's a Wonderful Life," a Jimmy Steward Christmas classic about a man at the end of his rope: " Bad Father will have a crises over Christmas that teaches him the value of family, and he will learn to be a good father in the end, and we fade out to them in a perfect house throwing snowballs with him and his wife laughing and having fun with the kids after he blows the entire Anderson deal on purpose."

[EddieDavidson]

That's basically every Hallmark Christmas movie. Deritive.

I may revisit posting Mary in the future. I am writing a new ending. Today, I updated chapters 1 and 2 with a more polished version.



This is my version of Joy the snow bunny.