Dare Me - Chapter 14 - Mikey Gets a Dare (Part 12)
Posted: Fri May 26, 2023 4:32 pm
Dare Me - Chapter 14 - Mikey Gets a Dare (Part 12)
With the cooking well in hand, Lucy was freed from the kitchen and went back to being the other half of their audience.
Cate called an audible and switched topics to clothing and home life. That was Penny and Persi's cue to show off their homemade costumes with Cate reciting commentary from the letters.
"Without access to modern industrial fabrication or sewing techniques, their fabric is derived from abundant grass fibers which are pressed into a crude type of linen. After being washed in a brine, the fabric is laid out and bleached by the sun to remove all color. Prominent elders and leaders get the choicest fabrics. These are dyed with various colorful pigments made from local minerals to denote positions of honor but are usually only worn ceremonially."
"Regular citizens are content to make simpler clothes from leftover cloths soaked in a solution made from leaves - similar to a tea staining process. Clothing is not necessary for warmth in such a humid, tropical climate. And these uncivilized savages are frequently seen eschewing clothing altogether and walking about like Adam and Eve with no regard for modesty."
"The young, unmarried girls of the tribe like to collect the leftover scraps, which have usually been cut to shreds with a bone knife, to practice their sewing."
While Penny and Persi modeled their skimpy dresses, I was shrewdly keeping my gaze trained directly on Cate to avoid any embarrassing anatomical reactions. It only took one glance toward the twins when they reached the center of the room to know I was in big trouble.
Their dresses, if you could even call them dresses, were made of a rough, tea-stained fabric, not unlike beige gauze. They were sleeveless and had no discernable shape or style but just hung straight down from the girls' shoulders to just below their hips. The panels were stitched together loosely with a coarse, plant-derived thread.
Persi stood confidently, proud to show off her crafty handiwork. But I couldn't stop looking at God's handiwork being displayed inside her dress. The material, while not transparent, was form-fitting enough to reveal every curve of her growing body. Her young breasts were thrust out proudly and capped by the cutest little round nipples. When she spun in place, I got a perfect view of her rounded bottom. She was well proportioned for a thirteen-year-old girl.
Penny sported a matching pair of healthy oranges on her chest just like her sister, but the attitude toward her dress was less enthusiastic and more apologetic. She had removed her shoes and socks and was standing barefoot with her skinny legs on full display. When she saw me scanning her up and down, she perked up and smiled warmly, flattered at having been noticed. But then, almost as if she felt guilty at hoarding all my attention for herself, her smile faded, and she dropped her gaze to the floor. Ever penitent, that one.
Cate continued, "occasionally, the tribe will gather around a fire in the evening and let the girls, in their novelty, practice dresses, perform dances to great acclamation. It is almost as if the dresses are nothing but a costume, good only for an evening of merriment. There is alarmingly little regard among these uncivilized creatures for making sure the young ladies of the tribe are appropriately and modestly covered.”
I felt a stirring in my loins and almost groaned audibly. I could feel my cock swelling once again and knew without a doubt that it would not stop until I was fully erect. Since it was too late to reverse my forthcoming erection, and because it would have been rude for me to look away, I went ahead and watched the twins do their little tribal dance. It was the least I could do, you see. After all, I was half the audience. Where would the twin's well-earned acclamation come from if I refused to watch and participate?
The girls had braided each other's hair into a bunch of thin braids. With steady drumbeats, they started jumping and spinning in an exciting, choreographed duet. Whenever they spun, their braids, which had colorful beads attached to the ends, fanned out behind them. Some flew so close to me that I actually flinched.
While it was thoroughly entertaining, there's no way their moves in any way resembled an actual African tribal dance. Sure, they had what vaguely resembled African braids and were wearing what I could only assume were authentic linen scrap dress reproductions. And they could keep a beat on their little, tribal animal skin drums.
But, having grown up in America with European heritage, the two girls, with flawless, lily white skin, looked completely out of place in every other way. They had clearly been exposed to classical forms of western dances, like ballet, at some point in their young lives and their turns and leaps ended up looking more at home in front of a barre.
Despite all that, their performance was spectacular. Lucy clapped appreciatively and cooed in delight with every move they made. I was particularly keen whenever they did a leap, and their flimsy dresses flew up to their waist. Each time, their puckered pussy lips would flash a greeting. My swelling cock seemed to especially like that part and offered its own form of throbbing acclamation.
I caught motion in the corner of my eye and realized Mel had slipped into the room and was standing behind me looking over my shoulder. She glanced down at my growing gland and nodded approvingly at its progress.
"Hey, Cate," she called out, addressing my sister and the room at the same time. The twins were unphased by her rude disruption. Like any thirteen-year-old girl, they loved to dance and twirl and had prepared multiple songs. They were content to keep on performing their routine despite what else was going on in the room, “why don’t you show them your costume?"
"Uh, I don't think…I should," answered Cate, "not in, uh, mixed company..."
"Nonsense," replied Mel, crossing the room to convince her older cousin to go through with modeling her own African dress, "it's just us girls...and little Mikey. Come on, you worked so hard on it. Didn't you say it was important to stay as true as possible to the original missionary letters? The more authentic we make this presentation, the more money we will raise for those poor, starving Africans."
Mel's convincing argument paired with such a honeyed voice struck a chord with Cate. What was the point of coming all this way if they weren't going to commit to raising as much money as possible? She was still a little hesitant to model what was likely a very skimpy dress with me in the room. But to my great surprise, she reluctantly accepted Mel’s arguments and reached up to start unbuttoning her own dress. While she worked her way down the front row of buttons, she dutifully, but shakily recited her memorized lines that went with this part of the presentation.
"New brides are gifted a specially crafted dress when they first become pregnant, to celebrate their formal transition to womanhood," she explained, but slowed when her trembling fingers slipped the last button free, "and valued contribution their bodies represent to the tribe's future..."
She nervously parted her staid, puritan dress to reveal, well, everything. The flimsy contraption hanging off her curvaceous body was an insult to maternity-wear. Hell, there wasn't even enough there to call it lingerie!
It was made of the same material as what the twins were wearing, but pure white and much more revealing. The whole thing hung from two straps on her shoulders. The neckline enhanced the cleavage of her mature, nineteen-year-old bust. A strip of fabric did encircle the middle portion of her breasts, but it ended before completely reaching the bottom and provided absolutely no support. As a result, the lower half of her generously proportioned globes hung down obscenely below the fabric of her top. Another inch and I'm sure I would have been able to see the lower edges of her nipples.
The entire middle of her gown was completely missing with just two straps running down either side of her midsection. The hole in front was meant to show off the new life growing in a pregnant woman's swelling belly. Only Cate wasn't pregnant. Instead, the gap provided a nice view of her perfect, hourglass figure, complete with her totally flat, anxiously flexing abdominal muscles.
The lower portion the dress, which barely even counted as a skirt, started so low on her waist that I could see a small patch of black pubic hair sticking out over the top of it. And she was obviously not wearing any panties. The skirt ended just as soon as it began, leaving her shapely thighs and legs completely bare from top to bottom.
Mel casually collected Cate's old dress, picking up the twin’s dresses as well, and offered to take them with her for safe keeping. As she approached me, I saw she was carrying a small, white mound of something in her hand. It was a ball of sticky rice - another sample for me to try.
"Making progress, there, big guy," she teased into my ear, referring to my no three-quarters erect member. She stuffed the warm ball into my mouth and added, "but I think you can go a little longer."
Then she patted me again, taking longer than necessary to remove her hand from my muscular tush, and disappeared into the kitchen. I looked down at my poor, stiff penis in despair and grimaced from the pain. Along with my erection slowly returning came the constant, throbbing discomfort of unattainable relief.
As I looked up, my eyes landed on beautiful Cate standing uncertainly in her obscenely revealing maternity gown. From the look on her face, she was feeling over-exposed and having second thoughts about the revealing nature of her supposedly culturally accurate costume. Unfortunately, her cousin had taken her other dress out of the room, and she had no other clothes to change into.
"Nessy," she inquired, knowing her younger sister was only capable of giving completely honest opinions, "what do you think? Is this costume ok?"
She stood at attention while her sister turned to give her costume a full, honest appraisal. I took the opportunity to do the same. From the front, her most impressive assets had to be her massive, swelling breasts. Those soft, rounded melons hung out the bottom of her top, defying gravity and providing a stark contrast to her totally flat stomach and narrow waist.
She dutifully turned around when Honesty asked her to. The view from behind was just as spectacular. Other than the one strip of fabric encircling her rib cage, her back was bare. Her scrap of a skirt didn't even fully cover her apple shaped bottom, which was larger and plumper than Lucy's. Just like her boobs, her well-proportioned, childbearing hips and rounded ass cheeks hung lewdly out the bottom of her pathetic excuse for a skirt.
The gown was specifically designed to highlight every part of a young woman's fertile body. Swallowing my bite of rice, I couldn't prevent a painful grunt from escaping my lips as I surged to full mast. My cock certainly approved of Cate's spectacular exhibition of fertility.
"There's not much to it, is there?" asked Honesty, master of stating the obvious, "but didn't you say you wanted to make everything as accurate as possible from the descriptions in the letters?"
Cate nodded a regretful agreement. She had been hoisted with her own petard, stung by her own ambition for historical rigor. She had no choice but to plow ahead and get through it. Turning back around, she scanned her memory to figure out where she had left off her little speech. She gulped when she realized she had been talking about some rather intimate subjects related to sexual reproduction and motherhood and that she her own body was now acting as a visual aid for the audience.
Glancing over at me, she noticed my thick, eight-inch sapling straining towards the sky - the ultimate compliment my body could give hers - and a blush formed on her face.
I looked over and saw Lucy grinning from ear to ear at my naked plight. Well, at least someone was having fun.
With the cooking well in hand, Lucy was freed from the kitchen and went back to being the other half of their audience.
Cate called an audible and switched topics to clothing and home life. That was Penny and Persi's cue to show off their homemade costumes with Cate reciting commentary from the letters.
"Without access to modern industrial fabrication or sewing techniques, their fabric is derived from abundant grass fibers which are pressed into a crude type of linen. After being washed in a brine, the fabric is laid out and bleached by the sun to remove all color. Prominent elders and leaders get the choicest fabrics. These are dyed with various colorful pigments made from local minerals to denote positions of honor but are usually only worn ceremonially."
"Regular citizens are content to make simpler clothes from leftover cloths soaked in a solution made from leaves - similar to a tea staining process. Clothing is not necessary for warmth in such a humid, tropical climate. And these uncivilized savages are frequently seen eschewing clothing altogether and walking about like Adam and Eve with no regard for modesty."
"The young, unmarried girls of the tribe like to collect the leftover scraps, which have usually been cut to shreds with a bone knife, to practice their sewing."
While Penny and Persi modeled their skimpy dresses, I was shrewdly keeping my gaze trained directly on Cate to avoid any embarrassing anatomical reactions. It only took one glance toward the twins when they reached the center of the room to know I was in big trouble.
Their dresses, if you could even call them dresses, were made of a rough, tea-stained fabric, not unlike beige gauze. They were sleeveless and had no discernable shape or style but just hung straight down from the girls' shoulders to just below their hips. The panels were stitched together loosely with a coarse, plant-derived thread.
Persi stood confidently, proud to show off her crafty handiwork. But I couldn't stop looking at God's handiwork being displayed inside her dress. The material, while not transparent, was form-fitting enough to reveal every curve of her growing body. Her young breasts were thrust out proudly and capped by the cutest little round nipples. When she spun in place, I got a perfect view of her rounded bottom. She was well proportioned for a thirteen-year-old girl.
Penny sported a matching pair of healthy oranges on her chest just like her sister, but the attitude toward her dress was less enthusiastic and more apologetic. She had removed her shoes and socks and was standing barefoot with her skinny legs on full display. When she saw me scanning her up and down, she perked up and smiled warmly, flattered at having been noticed. But then, almost as if she felt guilty at hoarding all my attention for herself, her smile faded, and she dropped her gaze to the floor. Ever penitent, that one.
Cate continued, "occasionally, the tribe will gather around a fire in the evening and let the girls, in their novelty, practice dresses, perform dances to great acclamation. It is almost as if the dresses are nothing but a costume, good only for an evening of merriment. There is alarmingly little regard among these uncivilized creatures for making sure the young ladies of the tribe are appropriately and modestly covered.”
I felt a stirring in my loins and almost groaned audibly. I could feel my cock swelling once again and knew without a doubt that it would not stop until I was fully erect. Since it was too late to reverse my forthcoming erection, and because it would have been rude for me to look away, I went ahead and watched the twins do their little tribal dance. It was the least I could do, you see. After all, I was half the audience. Where would the twin's well-earned acclamation come from if I refused to watch and participate?
The girls had braided each other's hair into a bunch of thin braids. With steady drumbeats, they started jumping and spinning in an exciting, choreographed duet. Whenever they spun, their braids, which had colorful beads attached to the ends, fanned out behind them. Some flew so close to me that I actually flinched.
While it was thoroughly entertaining, there's no way their moves in any way resembled an actual African tribal dance. Sure, they had what vaguely resembled African braids and were wearing what I could only assume were authentic linen scrap dress reproductions. And they could keep a beat on their little, tribal animal skin drums.
But, having grown up in America with European heritage, the two girls, with flawless, lily white skin, looked completely out of place in every other way. They had clearly been exposed to classical forms of western dances, like ballet, at some point in their young lives and their turns and leaps ended up looking more at home in front of a barre.
Despite all that, their performance was spectacular. Lucy clapped appreciatively and cooed in delight with every move they made. I was particularly keen whenever they did a leap, and their flimsy dresses flew up to their waist. Each time, their puckered pussy lips would flash a greeting. My swelling cock seemed to especially like that part and offered its own form of throbbing acclamation.
I caught motion in the corner of my eye and realized Mel had slipped into the room and was standing behind me looking over my shoulder. She glanced down at my growing gland and nodded approvingly at its progress.
"Hey, Cate," she called out, addressing my sister and the room at the same time. The twins were unphased by her rude disruption. Like any thirteen-year-old girl, they loved to dance and twirl and had prepared multiple songs. They were content to keep on performing their routine despite what else was going on in the room, “why don’t you show them your costume?"
"Uh, I don't think…I should," answered Cate, "not in, uh, mixed company..."
"Nonsense," replied Mel, crossing the room to convince her older cousin to go through with modeling her own African dress, "it's just us girls...and little Mikey. Come on, you worked so hard on it. Didn't you say it was important to stay as true as possible to the original missionary letters? The more authentic we make this presentation, the more money we will raise for those poor, starving Africans."
Mel's convincing argument paired with such a honeyed voice struck a chord with Cate. What was the point of coming all this way if they weren't going to commit to raising as much money as possible? She was still a little hesitant to model what was likely a very skimpy dress with me in the room. But to my great surprise, she reluctantly accepted Mel’s arguments and reached up to start unbuttoning her own dress. While she worked her way down the front row of buttons, she dutifully, but shakily recited her memorized lines that went with this part of the presentation.
"New brides are gifted a specially crafted dress when they first become pregnant, to celebrate their formal transition to womanhood," she explained, but slowed when her trembling fingers slipped the last button free, "and valued contribution their bodies represent to the tribe's future..."
She nervously parted her staid, puritan dress to reveal, well, everything. The flimsy contraption hanging off her curvaceous body was an insult to maternity-wear. Hell, there wasn't even enough there to call it lingerie!
It was made of the same material as what the twins were wearing, but pure white and much more revealing. The whole thing hung from two straps on her shoulders. The neckline enhanced the cleavage of her mature, nineteen-year-old bust. A strip of fabric did encircle the middle portion of her breasts, but it ended before completely reaching the bottom and provided absolutely no support. As a result, the lower half of her generously proportioned globes hung down obscenely below the fabric of her top. Another inch and I'm sure I would have been able to see the lower edges of her nipples.
The entire middle of her gown was completely missing with just two straps running down either side of her midsection. The hole in front was meant to show off the new life growing in a pregnant woman's swelling belly. Only Cate wasn't pregnant. Instead, the gap provided a nice view of her perfect, hourglass figure, complete with her totally flat, anxiously flexing abdominal muscles.
The lower portion the dress, which barely even counted as a skirt, started so low on her waist that I could see a small patch of black pubic hair sticking out over the top of it. And she was obviously not wearing any panties. The skirt ended just as soon as it began, leaving her shapely thighs and legs completely bare from top to bottom.
Mel casually collected Cate's old dress, picking up the twin’s dresses as well, and offered to take them with her for safe keeping. As she approached me, I saw she was carrying a small, white mound of something in her hand. It was a ball of sticky rice - another sample for me to try.
"Making progress, there, big guy," she teased into my ear, referring to my no three-quarters erect member. She stuffed the warm ball into my mouth and added, "but I think you can go a little longer."
Then she patted me again, taking longer than necessary to remove her hand from my muscular tush, and disappeared into the kitchen. I looked down at my poor, stiff penis in despair and grimaced from the pain. Along with my erection slowly returning came the constant, throbbing discomfort of unattainable relief.
As I looked up, my eyes landed on beautiful Cate standing uncertainly in her obscenely revealing maternity gown. From the look on her face, she was feeling over-exposed and having second thoughts about the revealing nature of her supposedly culturally accurate costume. Unfortunately, her cousin had taken her other dress out of the room, and she had no other clothes to change into.
"Nessy," she inquired, knowing her younger sister was only capable of giving completely honest opinions, "what do you think? Is this costume ok?"
She stood at attention while her sister turned to give her costume a full, honest appraisal. I took the opportunity to do the same. From the front, her most impressive assets had to be her massive, swelling breasts. Those soft, rounded melons hung out the bottom of her top, defying gravity and providing a stark contrast to her totally flat stomach and narrow waist.
She dutifully turned around when Honesty asked her to. The view from behind was just as spectacular. Other than the one strip of fabric encircling her rib cage, her back was bare. Her scrap of a skirt didn't even fully cover her apple shaped bottom, which was larger and plumper than Lucy's. Just like her boobs, her well-proportioned, childbearing hips and rounded ass cheeks hung lewdly out the bottom of her pathetic excuse for a skirt.
The gown was specifically designed to highlight every part of a young woman's fertile body. Swallowing my bite of rice, I couldn't prevent a painful grunt from escaping my lips as I surged to full mast. My cock certainly approved of Cate's spectacular exhibition of fertility.
"There's not much to it, is there?" asked Honesty, master of stating the obvious, "but didn't you say you wanted to make everything as accurate as possible from the descriptions in the letters?"
Cate nodded a regretful agreement. She had been hoisted with her own petard, stung by her own ambition for historical rigor. She had no choice but to plow ahead and get through it. Turning back around, she scanned her memory to figure out where she had left off her little speech. She gulped when she realized she had been talking about some rather intimate subjects related to sexual reproduction and motherhood and that she her own body was now acting as a visual aid for the audience.
Glancing over at me, she noticed my thick, eight-inch sapling straining towards the sky - the ultimate compliment my body could give hers - and a blush formed on her face.
I looked over and saw Lucy grinning from ear to ear at my naked plight. Well, at least someone was having fun.
