The Last Straw (new 4/5)

[Kazu]

I have 2 guesses:

1. Cindy is hiding somewhere in the room(under the bed or similar) to see directly what she is missing. Perhaps witnessing "Crankie". This could be a good point for her to take some sort of control.

2. She is out on a bench or something nearby, miserable that she is alone. Cliche, I know, but a good opportunity for him to run into looking for some sort of covering for Bea. Her disappearance might be reason for punishment.

She'll probably make an appearance again by breakfast, definitely church.

[neverdoubted]

I was feeling generous after Bea's gratifying performance and decided she deserved something to wear to breakfast. But pickings were slim. My own selection of spare clothing had dwindled significantly. But I didn't seriously consider any of those items. Everything I had loaned Mary so far had come at a steep price. She would not abide her sister coming along and snagging one of my extra shirts for nothing.

There was only one equitable solution that I could see. I had to split the baby. Unpacking my sewing kit, I cleared a spot on the counter and laid out Mary's gown. Mary drew close and leaned over my shoulder in interest. I tried to shoo her away, but she kept coming back. She flitted behind me like an eager hummingbird trying to get to its favorite flower. When she spotted the glinting flash of my pocket scissors, she let out a surprised squeal.

"W-w-what are you doing," she asked, peering over my shoulder in alarm.

"Bea needs something to wear too," I explained, shooing her off once more, "I'm just making a little alteration."

"Alter…Frankie, no!"

Ignoring her anxious whimpers, I stood up and held the gown against her shoulders. It draped nicely over her perfect, bulging breasts and even behind two layers of mesh, her perky nipples were still quite recognizable. But I was just checking for length. Concluding that there was enough fabric there for two teen girls, if they didn’t mind showing a little skin, I made the start of a cut near the middle then sat down to complete my separation.

Mary groaned as the delicate fabric gave way beneath my scissors. What was her problem? She was bellyaching like I was butchering her favorite designer dress from some fine, Parisian shoppe.

The upper half benefited at least from abbreviated sleeves and a discernable neck hole. But I struggled to figure out how Bea was supposed to wear the utterly shapeless lower portion.

Mary looked on in dismay as I plucked at the seams - freeing the frilly ribbon from the bottom and cutting it into a U shape. Deconstruction was trivial. Sewing the disconnected pieces back together proved more difficult. My trusty kit sure came in handy. With a needle and thread, and some patient stitching, I attached both ends of the ribbon to the upper edge of the gown's lower portion to improvise a sort of halter.

Bea finished cleaning what had spilled in the bathroom and emerged just in time to try it on. Handing over both articles, I watched my girls anxiously try on their new breakfast outfits.

Mary lowered the upper piece over her head and immediately frowned. It was short - much shorter than her former, floor-length gown. Too short to be called a gown anymore.

The fabric stopped abruptly and left her rounded hips and strong, shapely legs completely bare. Most of her bottom was hanging out the back. I thought I had made the cut straight when it was lying flat on the counter. But her feminine physiology affected the ragged lower hem in unpredictable ways. The front, drawn upward by her full, buoyant breasts, didn't even reach to the top of her pubic heart!

Blushing, she quickly tugged the front of the nighty and held it down with one hand. As a result, the hazy shroud over her chest was pulled taut and her bulbous orbs and perky nipples came into sharp focus. The erotic image made my fingers twitch and my loins stir once more. I was already looking forward to her next bath!

I chuckled at their different reactions to what was essentially the same gift. Mary had hated that gown and nearly died of humiliation the first time she put it on. But now she eyed her sister jealously as Bea took possession of half of it and stepped into the billowy skirt. Unlike Mary, she had the biggest smile on her face.

The ribbon running around her neck held the gown in place just like I had planned. The rest draped playfully over her lithe form and, in my opinion, looked quite fashionable. And though her pale flesh was easily discernable through the thin fabric, she looked perfectly pleased with it.

Her arms were hanging by her side beneath the gown because I hadn't provided anywhere else for them to go. Afraid of compromising the already precarious structural integrity by making true arm holes, I moved lower and cut a small slit on each side so she could at least poke her hands out.

Stepping back to appreciate my handiwork, I nodded my head.

Announcing, "time to eat," I started toward the exit. The girls followed my lead - one smiling and one frowning. With a wincing glance at Cindy's empty cot, I opened the door and turned my attention to breakfast.

Entering the Tuck Me Inn's bustling dining room, I looked around and saw neither Cindy nor my father. She had to turn up sometime, right? Patricia, I didn't bother looking for. My stepmother was surely still sleeping off her vigorous, overnight exertion.

As I expected, Mary and Bea made quite a scene in their skimpy, sheer nighties. But by now, I knew exactly how to wield my authority and take control of the situation. Projecting a righteousness that could only come from experience and practice, I loudly explained to the very first person that confronted us that, "they have a condition!"

My gruff voice ringing out across the stunned room, I marched confidently to the end of the breakfast line. My face was calm and steady as stone - an expression I had seen my father wear countless times. No one dared challenge me. And hushed conversations gradually returned as the two scantily clad teens scurred across the room to join me in line.

When Bea picked up her plate, I saw I had put her arm holes a little too low. But compared to carrying her food tray in the nude all over the fair, having her gown rise up a little on both sides and flashing her cute little hips to the whole room was nothing.

Her situation wasn't nearly as dire as her sister's. Blushing profusely, Mary alternated between tugging on the front and back hems of her gown and draping an arm across her barely concealed chest. All that squirming only drew more attention to her discomfort.

After filling my plate and picking out a table, I watched Mary agonize over the buffet. Needing one hand to hold her plate and the other to scoop things onto it, she nearly gave up on breakfast altogether. But ultimately, hunger overcame her cravings for modesty and - keeping her front side facing the buffet - she surrendered to showing the room her only half-draped bottom. In a way, the fabric enhanced her spectacular exhibition and shattered any attempt she made at remaining wholesome and modest.

When the girls joined me, Mary quickly sat down and pulled her chair all the way up to the edge of the table - tucking her bare lower half out of sight beneath the table. Picking up her fork, she ate with one hand draped across her chest. I let her be for a little while but soon had an urge to give the room another demonstration of my authority.

Ordering her to, "fetch me a glass of orange juice," I sat back in my chair and crossed my arms expectantly.

Mary knew better by now than to ignore a request from me. Locating the juice bar on the other side of the room, she stood up; her expression hopeful that this time the gown would drape a little further. When it didn't, she frowned and gave a heavy sigh, held it down - front and back - and began her humiliating trip.

Still fighting for every scrap of modesty, it would have looked less awkward if she would just stop tugging and walk normally. All the anguish that gown was causing her...she almost seemed to do better when she wore nothing. Being naked simplified things in a strange way. At least she didn't have the added stress of constantly wrestling with her clothes.

There was a good reason for the number of eyes tracking her every move. Whether it was a pretty church dress, a country girl outfit, or a baby-doll nighty, there was just something about Mary's body that lent itself to being dressed up. There was never a risk that something would come out too baggy or ill-fitting because her taut, supple anatomy naturally swelled to fill every cavity it was placed into. She was buxom and well-built with a frame that carried its feminine curves effortlessly. That allowed anything she wore to perform an adorning rather than a supporting role.

The skimpy gown was merely an embellishment - drawing attention but not stealing the spotlight from the main attraction that was her spectacular body.

As she slowly made her way across the dining room, women frowned while groups of girls huddled together to share scandalized whispers. Young boys mostly just stared. Men openly gawked with smiles as big as mine - not about to pass up a free peep show first thing in the morning. The ones sitting with nagging wives were more discrete about their glances. They sneered, pretending to be incensed by her inappropriate breakfast attire. But I could see the lust lurking behind their pretend peeved expressions.

But it was the older teen boys who had the most interesting reaction. Sure, they spent most of their time staring at my scantily clad stepsister. But without fail, they all looked over at one point or another to cast an awed expression in my direction.

They were all wondering the same thing. This gorgeous creature had some sort of condition that prevented her from wearing anything but the most revealing attire. And she was at my beck and call. How did I get so lucky? Sharing a silent nod of respect with each of them, my grin somehow grew wider. My message was clear.

"I know you wish you were in my place. But these gorgeous beauties are all mine."

If I had a pipe in my hand, I could have been my father - sitting proudly in the corner, master of his domain, while an appreciative and jealous audience marveled at the sexy sight laid before them. A scene that only existed by my strength of will and authority.

Mary returned holding the glass of juice in one hand and her front hem in the other. With no way to keep the gown modest in back, she was flashing the lower half of her flexing bottom as well as her curvy legs and thighs to the room. She eyed her chair anxiously, but sensed I wasn't going to let her sit. She was right.

"Thank you, Mary," I answered, pushing the glass to one side and ignoring it, "Now some toast, I think, with jelly."

Just to prove to the other boys watching me that I was in full control, I sent Bea on an errand as well. Happily, and without complaint, she cleared the table and returned the dishes we had used.

Dressed in only the single, semi-transparent layer of covering that revealed in certain lights that she obviously wasn't wearing anything underneath, Bea drew some interested looks as she worked. But as usual, she could not compete for attention with her older, more mature, and even lesser clothed sister. When she returned from her first task, I let her sit and did not give her further instructions. This was Mary's show, and I kept her busy throughout breakfast.

When it was finally time to return to our room, Mary stepped through the door as soon as I unlocked it. Whisking the gown up over her head - something she wouldn't dare do in a less private setting - she placed it in my hand and collapsed onto the bed.

She was so shy and self-conscious about her body that any kind of exposure seemed to take so much out of her. While she was recomposing herself, I folded up her gown and stowed it away for future use. The wispy gauze was weightless and took up practically no space in my new duffel.

Bea did not offer to remove her gown; neither did I insist on it. While Mary couldn't be rid of her scandalously short nighty fast enough, I understood why Bea wouldn't be in a hurry to give up the first piece of clothing she had been allowed to wear in nearly twenty-four hours.

I dressed for church in the bedroom while the girls retreated to the bathroom to get ready. I was finished in no time and couldn't fathom what would be taking them so long. They didn't have dresses to put on - not even underwear! And even if they had been allowed to wear make-up, they didn't have any of that either.

Having endured countless Sunday mornings waiting for my stepsisters to get ready for church, this was nothing new to me. I spent most of my time pacing anxiously and opening the door to check for any sign of Cindy. She was sure cutting it close getting back. I tried to convince myself that she had just gone on a morning walk for some fresh air and would be back any second.

Looking for clues of where she might have gone, I poked around in her suitcase lying open in the corner and found the curlers she had worn to bed the night before. Combined with the empty hangar in the closet which meant she was already wearing her church outfit told me that when she did get back, we wouldn't have to wait for her to fix her hair or get dressed.

I was standing in the doorway to my unit, peering out at the street for about the twentieth time when my father emerged from his room, dressed in his Sunday suit. I could have sworn there was no way he could see the lump in my throat. But taking one look at me, his eyes narrowed anyway.

"Is there a problem," he asked.

There was no point in trying to hide the reason for my nervousness.

"There's no problem," I assured him, "Cindy just went for a walk, is all."

He could see right through me. Calling my bluff, he said, "Very well. Wheels up in fifteen. Help me get the car packed."

With a gulp, I nodded and jumped into action. His message couldn't be clearer. The girls were my responsibility - I had asked for it.

The next ten minutes elapsed in what felt like double-time. Since this was supposed to be our last night at the Tuck Me Inn, Frank ferried his and Patricia's luggage to the curb. I was sweating by the time I got it all lashed to the top of the car, but not from the heat. Though I tried not to dwell on it, Cindy's absence loomed large in my mind. If she didn't show up soon, my reputation would be ruined.

There wasn't much to pack from our bedroom. I shuffled a few things around between my backpack and duffel then stowed one in the middle seat and one on the roof. Packing up Cindy's bedroll for her, I called out to the other girls that they had better hurry up.

I was standing in our doorway when Mary emerged from the bathroom. She had borrowed Cindy's hair supplies and brushes to help her get ready. Wearing her hair down like she always did for church, she did not have a single strand out of place. Falling like curtains down each side of her bowed head, it was the only form of coverage available to her.

Bea also left the bathroom. Having tamed her tight curls with a ribbon also borrowed from Cindy, she reluctantly removed her breakfast gown to return to her natural, nude state. After handing it over, she gave her sister a nudge.

"Say, uh," Mary began, "would you ask Frank if we could wear something to church? We were just talking and...it wouldn't be proper-"

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" I replied with a shrug.

Bea chimed in to answer that one, "he would only do it if you asked."

Now it was my eyes that narrowed. This was Patricia and the breakfast gown all over again. Only this time, the girls were hoping I would step up and beg my father for leniency on their behalf.

Mary broke down and urgently added, "it would just be until church is over. Please, Frankie, I can't go to church like this."

Her hands were trembling as she motioned over her bare body. Her youthful flesh glowed radiant in the morning sunlight. A virgin Mary, naked from head to toe, was sure to make an impression at church. But for someone like her who hated being the center of attention, it would be a humiliating experience.

When she sensed I was wavering, Mary cast a glance at her sister then added, "w-what about another trade? What if we......made it worth-"

Just then, out of nowhere, Cindy strolled in through the open door and right between us. She had a look of deep concentration on her face.

"Hey", I blurted at her, but she ignored me. Disappearing into the bathroom, she locked the door.

Following her path, I shot down Mary's request. Even if they could convince me to spend what little influence I had worked hard to build up with my father just to spare them humiliation for a little while, there wasn’t enough time to negotiate a trade. “Wheels up” was an order, not a suggestion.

"Forget it," I barked, eyeing the alarm clock beside the bed, "just get in the car."

Behind me, I heard her make an exasperated noise. But I had already turned my attention to my youngest stepsister.

"Where have you been, young lady," I called out through the door. When no reply came, I knocked with vigor. I wanted to interrogate her - make her understand that it wasn't acceptable to run off like that without telling me and that I had been worried sick. I kept knocking and yelling, but I was just berating a closed door.

"Junior," my father called from outside.

Worried my time had run out, I checked the clock. But I still had a few minutes left. He must have called for some other reason.

Pouring all the seriousness I could muster into my voice, I leaned against the door and said, "Listen, Cindy, you need to pack your things and come to the car ASAP. It's wheels up in three. Acknowledge."

This time, she answered. "I'm coming, ok? Just...give me a second."

Forced to believe her, I rushed outside to find out why my father was calling me. He was standing beside the idling wagon, relaxed and at ease.

"Turn these in," he ordered, tossing me the key to his room.

Casting a nervous glance at the room I had just left, I nodded and caught the key in midair. I took a step toward the motel office just as Patricia was exiting her room. The last time I had seen her, she was lying naked on a bed and tangled in sheets. Now she was wearing one of her typical, modest, Sunday dresses that came down to her ankles and a fancy hat with ribbons fluttering down the back.

I offered her a polite nod of greeting but quickly averted my eyes and hurried off before she could notice the blush forming on my cheeks. And when I returned, she was sitting primly in the front seat of the car next to her husband. Mary and Bea were also in the car. Only Cindy was left.

Climbing into the middle seat between my naked stepsisters, I checked the clock on the dash. One minute remained. If Cindy didn't show up immediately, my father would blame me for not getting the girls ready in time and making us all late for church. And all the goodwill I had built up with him recently would be destroyed.

Since Sundays were meant for praying, I closed my eyes and said a silent prayer that somehow this situation would work itself out. The dwindling seconds pounded in my ears.

Cracking my eyes open just in time to watch the minute hand on the dash make its final tick, I turned and looked past Mary through the car window at the motel. Just then, the door to our room cracked open and Cindy stepped through. My mouth fell open in disbelief; not because she had made it in time, but because my pretty, thirteen-year-old stepsister was standing there on the sidewalk...completely naked!

[Somebody]

Phew! I was genuinely worried for a second.

[SixPathsKeyblader]

I knew it would come to this. Even so, it seems to me that Cindy came out naked by her own will rather than being forced to do so. I assume that Cindy is leaving her clothes behind too, just like Bea. This puts Cindy in the same situation as Bea, being left with little to no clothing at home when they get back. Anyway, Patricia is the only clothed woman left in this family.

On another note, I am interested to see an occasion where someone doesn't back down to "They have a condition". It's happened a couple of times before in this story, but they always lucked out in the end.

[neverdoubted]

What do you envision would happen in a scenario where someone doesn’t back down?

[SixPathsKeyblader]

What do you envision would happen in a scenario where someone doesn’t back down?

Depending on who it is, I could see perhaps a fight occuring (like if it is law enforcement) Perhaps some arrests would be made.

[Kazu]

It also depends on who the respondent is.

Sr - probably stubborn enough that the opposition would deem it not worth their time.
Jr - brushed aside from someone who mildly cares

I think the church trip will be free of opposition, at least the ones that matter. At a traditional church, there might be older folk that take offense, but a clergy might be of the mind "all are welcome" and accept it(forcing dissenters to be quiet). Heck, at my church they'd bring up families that might be from out of town to help participate.

And with Cindy joining in on the naked fun, well...I'm not actually sure how that will play out. She obviously feels left out and wanted Jr's attention. Is she even going to barter for concessions? There are so many options.

[WingDing]

Looks like Cindy couldn't bear (or is it bare?) to be left out of her sister's situation.

[Somebody]

I think the church trip will be free of opposition, at least the ones that matter. At a traditional church, there might be older folk that take offense, but a clergy might be of the mind "all are welcome" and accept it(forcing dissenters to be quiet). Heck, at my church they'd bring up families that might be from out of town to help participate.

And with Cindy joining in on the naked fun, well...I'm not actually sure how that will play out. She obviously feels left out and wanted Jr's attention. Is she even going to barter for concessions? There are so many options.

Given the time period this is set in, I'm not sure if that was much of a trend yet.. I was kind of expecting they'd be given embarrassingly childish dresses from Goodwill or something, for church. And yeah, I will be curious to see how Cindy wrangles this. Maybe her mindset will be "because I chose to do it myself, I don't have to barter as much"

[LaSwamprat]

I knew it would come to this. Even so, it seems to me that Cindy came out naked by her own will rather than being forced to do so. I assume that Cindy is leaving her clothes behind too, just like Bea. This puts Cindy in the same situation as Bea, being left with little to no clothing at home when they get back. Anyway, Patricia is the only clothed woman left in this family.

Yes, I've been thinking that Cindy would find her way into the same situation as her sisters, since she thinks she's "being left out". What I'm really curious about is if Patricia will do something that makes Frank Sr put her in the same dress as her daughters. That would make for a truly interesting vacation!!!