Cousins Don't Need Modesty (Illustrated)

I was about to leave the bathroom when I noticed one of the pictures on the wall. It was of a nude brunette and blonde in a bathtub. At first, I assumed it was my cousins, Betty and Veronica. They had plenty of pictures of themselves scattered around the house, and it looked like it could’ve been their bathroom back in Surrey, England.

But this was an old photo. The caption read, “Alice and Sheridan, 1972.” It was my mom and my aunt—only a few years after I was born. I couldn’t figure out why they’d be sharing a bath at that point or why someone would’ve thought to snap a picture of them like that.

Archie caught me staring once the girls had left the bathroom. “Fancy looking’ at my mum’s bazookas or your mum’s arse?” he asked, grinning like he’d caught me getting turned on by our mom’s nudity.

“Yeah,” I replied without hesitation, still staring at the picture. “But not because I’m into it. This photo was taken in 1972—that’s three years after I was born. I don’t get why they’d be sharing a bath at that point, let alone taking a picture of it.”

“Gives me a proper idea. If I am really your assistant, the girls should have to share a bath tonight rather than get to take it separately. They could fit snugly in our tub together. The way it normally works is I take a bath, then whichever one of them behaved themselves gets to go next while the water is still warm and relatively clean, and then whichever one of them gave Mum the hardest time of the night has to deal with the muck and cold water.”

“You are really my assistant, I appreciate your advice,” I said. I didn’t want to say that I had no clue how things were really supposed to work, and I didn’t want to look naïve. “That way, they both get clean, warm water, and no one is left with the mucky cold water.”

Archie frowned like I’d missed the point entirely. “I think the idea is to tease my sisters a bit, make ‘em flop about, and squeeze in together so they don’t get too full of themselves. If you allow girls to get too comfortable, they start thinking they’re entitled to shit like privacy and special treatment.” He gave me a sideways glance. “Girls don’t need modesty. Keeps ‘em in check when they know they’ve got nothing to hide.”

You think that’s what someone was doing with this picture? Making your mom and mine flop around with their tits out?” I asked, glancing back at Archie. The girls were out of sight—probably up to no good—but I had a few questions for my cousin I didn’t want them to hear. I wasn’t about to let on that. I had no clue how any of this was supposed to work. If they thought I wasn’t speaking from experience, and how would they accept that my decisions were fair, if I didn’t even understand how things worked?

Archie shrugged like it was the most normal thing in the world to make girls bathe together. “They were close back in Surrey, weren’t they? Girls don’t have modesty like that, not in our family. It’s just a snap. It’s not much different than when you see those tribal women in Africa with their tits out on National Geographic. No one makes a fuss ‘cause it’s normal for ‘em to be walking about with their hams out.”

“So, if someone walked in while you were taking a piss and took a picture of your dick, then that would be a violation of privacy, though?” What Archie told me about tribal women resonated with me. That was their normal – to walk around with their tits out. But I was still curious how things worked in Archie’s world. I’d always been taught guys, and girls should have the same expectations when it came to privacy. But it didn’t work that way in my aunt’s house—and, obviously, not in how my mom was raised either.

“What are you on about, mate?” He shook his head like it was the dumbest question he’d ever heard. “Obviously, for a guy, it’s different. A bloke’s meant to have some dignity—you don’t just flash your dick around like it’s nothing. You’d be a streaker, or a flasher, wouldn’t you? But girls? Everyone knows what tits look like. My sisters’ itty-bitty titties aren’t large enough to warrant more than a laugh.”

My aunt had playboy-sized jumbo tits, but as far as I could tell, my cousins had cute peach-shaped tits that were perfectly well-developed for girls their age. I wouldn’t call them flat-chested at all.

“You don’t put pants on a dog just ‘cause you wear ‘em. Girls aren’t supposed to wear trousers, either. In America, we see it all the time. It’s been giving my sisters uppity ideas, so it’s refreshing to have a sitter that isn’t either trying to hump my sisters or let them get away with bloody murder.”

I nodded and turned to him, “I appreciate that, Archie.”

He paused, then added, “Back home, lads at the construction site take their shirts off when it’s hot—no one bats an eye. That’s normal for men on the construction site. It’s hot, sweaty work, and no one gives a fig. Out in the British farm country, for girls —tops off, tits out when there is work to be done. It’s not a big deal.”

I glanced at Archie, still trying to wrap my head around it. “So ... is it meant to normalize women’s tits, so they aren’t sexual, or is it meant to humiliate the girls?”

I felt like it was the latter, but I couldn’t entirely be sure. In the case of men on a construction site, it’s perfectly normal and not sexual at all – at least not to me. I glanced at Archie, still trying to piece it all together. “So ... is it meant to humiliate them, having their tits on display? Or is that just normal for them?”

My cousin raised an eyebrow like it wasn’t a tricky question, and he was telling me what I already knew. “It’s normal to humiliate and embarrass girls a bit, yeah,” he said matter-of-factly. “Teasing is normal. Mum and I do it out of love. I think if we stopped and didn’t care enough to give wind them up for their tarty attitudes, they’d think we don’t care.”

“Could you be supportive and just accept that they like sex and showing off their bodies without making rude comments about them?”

“Are you taking the piss?” Archie asked. I wasn’t familiar with that expression, and since we were in the bathroom, I thought he was asking me if I had to use the restroom. “Guys are expected to be responsible; you don’t thrive on attention, and the girls are vain little twats who have to have their egos fed. You heard them; they wouldn’t have thought twice if they could flash their arse and cunnie to him when he rings up with a pizza. They are worried he’ll have a laugh when he sees what they’ve got stuffed up their holes and find out why.”

I nodded and told him I was just trying to make sure we were on the same page.

“Yeah, girls love attention, but if no one calls them out for their shit, they start thinking that it doesn’t stink. Teasing them is like a public service to keep them from getting too full of themselves.”

“So, you don’t think it’s cruel to punish them this way?”

“It’s much crueler to let them behave like utter trollops who’ve no one to tell them no or keep them from being lazy brats! Just the other day, Archie rolled his eyes like he didn’t even have to think hard for an example. “I told both of them to bring me a cup of tea while I was watching TV. Simple enough, right? They show up an hour later—it’s cold. And Betty? She drank half of it on the way, said she ‘just wanted to make sure it wasn’t too hot.’” He shook his head, clearly still annoyed.

“Did you tell your mom?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said, smirking. “She made them both stand in the corner for an hour, bare-assed, while I drank my tea the right way. And when I was done, she gave them ten swats, each with the paddle that bears your mum’s name for being lazy little twats.” He chuckled. “Didn’t hear a peep from them after that, and the next time I asked for tea, it was piping hot with the milk just how I like it.”

I could definitely picture that scenario happening. “So, basically, they’re constantly punished just for being born with tits and a cunt?”

“Is that how it is at your place? It’s not that strict here, mate. “Is that how it is at your place? Girls are flighty, egotistical, and lack ambition. They’d rather stay in bed fingering themselves than do any proper work. I think it’d be cruel and pointless to punish my sisters just for being born like barmy cows. They can’t help it; they were born thick-headed. If they were punished just for waking up with tits and slits, nothing they did would ever matter, and they would probably spit in my tea every time. although, after seeing how they treated my toothbrush, I am not so sure they don’t.”

I liked the phrase “slits and tits” because it rhymed. I wondered if he had thought of that on the fly. British people seemed quite clever with a turn of phrase. I snickered and said we aren’t quite that strict at my house either, but I kind of wished we were.

“Aye, my sisters are a handful, but I love them loads, and I wouldn’t have them any other way. The teasing and discipline is good for them. Are you asking me all this because you’re worried, I’d feel sorry for ‘em, having those brushes up their bums?” He chuckled. “Honestly, I noticed a change in their attitudes straight away. I wish they had to harpoon their holes with those brushes every night—not just when you babysit. It’s not like I am ever going to use mine again, and I doubt Mum would anyway. The brush would find more use adjusting their attitude than in the trash.

“Well, thank you, Archie!”

“And not for nothing, Mr. Dalton, but I think Mum will have you back again. The girls are behaving for you far better than they were the last two sitters. We should probably check on them before they get into another randy mess out in the living room – but I did have one more question for you.”

Go ahead,” I said, curious about what Archie had on his mind. “I was just making sure I wasn’t being too strict on the girls.”

“I was curious because I think you might be spoiling them a bit. You aren’t REALLY going to let my sisters have pizza when the delivery guy comes, are you?” Archie asked, his eyebrows raised like I’d lost my mind. “I heard you say you were ordering a pizza for all of us.”

“Sure, why not?” I was genuinely puzzled and wanted to know why they had to be that strict with the girls.

Archie looked at me like I’d just sprouted a second head. “You let your sister have pizza, candy, soda, and treats at your place, do ya?” He shook his head. “Girls are meant to have water and cold, plain food—nothing too fancy. Nourishing, yeah, but nothing that spoils them. We don’t have pizza often. Mum would let them have leftover crusts at best, just to keep from wasting them.”

I was surprised they were so strict – I felt a bit sorry for the girls. “Actually, with my sister, I am not in charge of her diet, but if it were up to me, I’d make her do a little dance for her supper, maybe rub her tummy and pat her head while spinning in circles, and then eat from the garbage,” I said. It might actually be funny to watch my stuck-up older sister get knocked down a peg. I was technically not lying, though, because my sister ate whatever was served for dinner, and I wasn’t in charge of that.

The girls were dancing around, probably playing with the toothbrushes, when we walked into the living room. Betty and Veronica’s hands moved quickly away from their crotches. I didn’t catch them playing with themselves. At least my cousins were afraid of being caught.

“We are really going to have Dominos? I take back what I said about you, Mister Dalton! I’ll tell Mum you are the best babysitter ever!” Betty hugged me.

Veronica wasn’t far behind, pressing her bare chest against mine as she wrapped her arms around me. “Can we have sausage on our pizza? I love sausage!”

The double entendre was pretty obvious—she clearly meant cock.

It was going to be tough breaking it to my cousins that they weren’t getting any. I decided the best approach was the direct one, but I had an idea that I wanted to try. It would depend on how they reacted to being told “no” they aren’t getting what they want.

“Ooey-gooey cheese!” Betty giggled as they let go, twirling around the living room, their little pink brushes wiggling in their bums like tiny flamingo tails.

“You think you’re getting pizza?” My voice was flat, with no room for misunderstanding. This was going to be the hard part for me. I really didn’t care if the girls got pizza or not. I just didn’t want to come off like a softie. If they weren’t spoiled brats, I’d be getting them the sausage they wanted.

Betty’s grin faltered. “But ... you said—”

“I said WE were getting pizza,” I cut in sharply, nodding toward Archie and me. “You are girls. You might get some crusts if you behave at dinner.”

“But ... but...” Betty stammered, her disbelief clear as she pouted and even stomped her foot in frustration.

I gave her bare bottom a light pat and mimicked her stuttering with a smirk, “Butt ... Butt!”

Archie let out a laugh, clearly enjoying the show. The fact that neither girl did more than fume was evidence to me that Archie hadn’t been pulling my leg. They didn’t usually get pizza for dinner. I picked up the house phone and dialed the local Dominos. In the 1980s, delivery in 30 minutes or less was a novel concept, and it was all the rage.

I knew the number to the local delivery place by heart. “Hello, Dominos? One extra-large sausage pizza, oh yes, extra cheese, please!” I made my order and provided my aunt’s home address.

“We’re supposed to flirt with the pizza guy, show him these toothbrushes,” Veronica tapped the brush in her butt while glaring at me, “And we don’t even get to eat it after all that? I’m telling Mum you’re a right proper meanie, Mr. Dalton! You and Archie can’t finish a whole pizza by yourselves! And you got the one topping we both wanted?” She folded her arms, lips pursed in a pout.

I held up a finger, ticking off each point like I was explaining something obvious to a pair of slow learners. “First, you’re showing him the brush because you were eager enough to stick them up your bums in the first place. Second, if he thinks you’re being punished too severely, then you can take them out. And third—if you don’t want to butter him up and tease him like you did to me when I first got here, that’s no skin off my ass.”

Veronica’s smirk faltered, and she shifted with a soft huff, the brush wobbling between her ass cheeks. It was hard to take my eyes off of it. I wondered how it must feel to them.

“Second, you were both being punished for playing with yourselves, with your mom’s dildo, no less!” I pointed at Veronica before reminding Betty. “And you went out of your way to drag me into your mom’s room just to get your sister in deeper trouble.”

“Yeah ... we might’ve messed about a bit when you first got here,” she admitted, glancing down before meeting my eyes again. “Didn’t think you’d be this strict, Mister Dalton. But ... you’re being fair.” Her tone wasn’t snarky—just a grudging acknowledgment that they’d pushed their luck and were lucky to be avoiding a harsher punishment.

Betty wriggled beside her, her pout softening into a sheepish grin. “We were just having a laugh at first ... didn’t think we’d end up here,” she muttered, wincing as she shifted. “But we will behave now. Promise.” She shot me a hopeful look. “And if the pizza bloke feels bad for us ... maybe a little slice for being good?”

I didn’t expect that reaction from them. It was a good sign, but I wasn’t finished testing THEM yet. They had tested me when I first arrived and found that I was just like every other guy – well, it was my turn to evaluate my cousins.

“Third, you asked to use the bathroom during your punishment, which I graciously allowed, and what did you do? You made me and your brother wait outside like idiots, acting like you deserved privacy. At the same time, you shoved your mom’s and his toothbrushes into your dirty little holes to get yourselves off. And now you’ve got the audacity to ask for an entire slice of pizza—each?”

Betty squirmed beside her, her grin fading into something more tentative. “It’s just ... we didn’t think the punishment would go this far,” she admitted, her voice softer now. “We were out of line—proper out of line—but we’re trying to make it right.” She glanced at Veronica, then back at me, her eyes flickering with a mix of guilt and that ever-present mischief. “We’ll take whatever you decide. But ... if we can earn it, we’ll try our best.”

That was what I wanted to hear. I tried not to smile. I glowered like I was at my wit’s end with the two of them. “Fine, IF you want a slice of pizza, then you have to earn it by providing us with some entertainment! However, first, I want to establish some new rules when I am here – whether I am babysitting or visiting.”

The girls blinked in surprise. They didn’t expect me to lay out any rules.

“From now on, when I babysit, you’ll strip off immediately when I arrive, and if I stop by to visit, I want you to take off your clothes. Girls shouldn’t have modesty, and there is no sense in either of you wearing them around me or your brother.”

“Oh no! Naked every time you babysit?” Veronica asked with mock indignation, a grin already tugging at her lips. “You’ll get tired of seeing us starkers, Mister Dalton. We’ve got cute faces and a couple of holes, but it’s really nothing you need to make a rule about. We’d strip down if you ask nicely, anyway.”

“I am not asking; I am telling,” I reminded her of what her mother tells her all the time when she questions her. It just so happened that my own mom used that same line on me.

“Wait a second, are you saying anytime we get home from school, we have to strip because Archie is here as well, and we can’t even go in the backyard in panties any longer? We are always nude at home? Or just when you visit, Mr. Dalton?” Betty asked. I hadn’t said ANY of that.

I could see how what I said could have been misconstrued that way, but that wasn’t my intention at all. The girls liked being naked, and I decided to give them a reason. Their mom could always override me, so I decided to run with the suggestion – thinking Betty secretly wanted a reason to strip off, anyway.

I also just wanted to see them naked.

“You love being naked, and neither of you girls deserve or earned modesty, so unless your mum tells you otherwise, there is no point in soiling panties with your quim juice to cover those dirty bums and wet pussies!” I said. I looked at Archie, and he didn’t say anything back – but he didn’t complain either.

“What happens if we want to have friends over, or Archie—I mean, Mister Archie—has his friends over? We usually slap some clothes on. It’s not like we want to, but a lot of our friends would think we’re proper nymphomaniacs if we’re starkers 24/7,” Betty countered.

“Yes,” I said flatly. “You can have friends over, but the rules don’t change. You can warn them that you strip at home, but you’ll keep your cute little butts uncovered and on display. I want your quims and tits out, chins up, and smiles on your pretty faces! You don’t get to switch modesty on and off when it’s convenient.”

The girls seemed perplexed and puzzled but strangely flattered. “You think we are pretty?” Betty asked – surprisingly vulnerable.

They were cute girls, and their British accent made them even more attractive to me. They were underclassmen, but I would have definitely considered both of them out of my league even as a senior. I was surprised Betty didn’t see herself as pretty.

“Don’t be daft, he means you have a munter face, but he’d tell you what you want to hear, so you’d suck his balls and give him a little head. Girls like us are not meant to be glamorous or some lad’s grand obsession. We have cute bums and are just good for a laugh, a little slap and tickle, and a quick nosh,” Veronica clearly didn’t want her sister to let my words go to her head.

I got the impression from the expression on Betty’s face that she’d been taught to remain humble, because she immediately acknowledged what Veronica said. It occurred to me that I shouldn’t praise the girls, because every time I did, they seemed to lose respect for me.

I decided to do the opposite. Even though I thought they were cute – it hadn’t panned out well when I complimented them. They either didn’t believe I was sincere or took me as someone who just wanted to jump their bones.

“Look, I am not trying to blow smoke up your asses; you are both too young for me. You have cute faces, and tits. You aren’t supermodels, but you aren’t ugly hose beasts, either. I don’t want you to get huge egos, which is why I want you butt naked when I arrive, and that means sitting on the floor and eating off the floor.”

“We love being naked; you’ll get no argument from us to strip down at the door. I guess it’s just odd that we HAVE to do it when usually we are the ones asking if we can. Mum gets tired of seeing our naked bums, and you may as well, b-u-u-u-tttt we don’t EAT off the floor; we sit our bare bums on the kitchen floor and eat off plates. We aren’t dogs,” Betty explained. It was perfectly normal to sit on the floor naked while eating dinner, but it was outrageously absurd to suggest eating on all fours.

Which makes sense, if you understand that my cousins were raised to believe that girls don’t need modesty, and that it’s normal to sit on the floor so you don’t get your pussy juices and butt sweat on the chairs and couches.

“If you want pizza, you’ll both eat on all fours, like dogs,” I decided. “if you don’t, you can sit on your fat asses and eat like you normally would but mind those brushes because they stay in the entire time.”

“I’d almost forgotten I even had the brush up my bum,” Betty looked over her shoulder at the pink brush dangling out of her tail hole.

Veronica’s expression told me she had almost forgotten as well. “I don’t mind it so much; it’s not going to stretch out our bottom hole?” she asked.

“Yeah, your poo will slide right out, and you won’t be able to close up your gaping arse hole, Sis,” Archie ridiculed his sister.

“No, your cute little hole will be just fine. It’s a punishment, and as you said, you may walk a bit, which is funny, but you aren’t sitting down flat on it. You want to eat, or sit, you’ll do it on all fours. That’s the choice for dinner. If you two cows want some pizza, you’ll entertain us and crawl like pups,” I smiled.

I fully expected the girls to explode, and I was prepared to remind them that I was the boss, and their mother had put me in charge.

“You’d find it funny to watch us crawling about like pups barking and yapping?” Betty asked, clearly confused and seemingly bewildered. She blinked up at me like she couldn’t quite wrap her head around the idea, as if the whole thing felt silly – but not that she was ready to put up any resistance to it.

I was the babysitter, after all.

I didn’t bother answering right away. I figured the doing would answer that question for her soon enough. I thought maybe—just maybe—it’d knock them down a peg and give them the humbling they clearly needed. But I didn’t say that. I just watched, waiting to see how long it’d take for the reality to sink in.

“He wouldn’t find it sexy, that’s for sure. I told you, all we are good for is a laugh and a joyride,” Veronica added.

“It’ll keep you two humble and make us smile; what’s the harm in that?” I said.

“Eat like dogs? And bark and yap? You mean without use of our hands?” Betty scrunched her nose in disgust. I had assumed that was how they ate from the floor. “I’d rather ride your dick and make out, thank you very much.”

I was definitely tempted to take her up on that offer. I don’t know why I said what I did.

“Your mum said you are to do whatever I tell you, and I’ve decided that you’ll both be our dogs. Let’s go outside in the backyard so I can show you what I mean. It’ll be good for you to find out that not every guy is motivated by a desire to have your quim juice on his cock.”

I was confused by my own actions – I definitely would have enjoyed fucking my cousins. We were related, but I barely knew them, and they were hot.

“Arf, Arf, Munters!” Archie harumphed, pointing at the carpet with a smug grin. “Go on, down you get—on all fours like the good little pups you are.” His tone was dripping with condescension like he was explaining something to a pair of thick-headed toddlers.

Betty and Veronica exchanged a quick glance, their faces flushing, but they didn’t argue. Slowly, they dropped to their hands and knees, the toothbrushes sticking out from between their cheeks, wobbling with the movement. I don’t know why it turned me on so much to watch two cute girls be crestfallen and embarrassed as they obediently crawled on the carpet.

They were reluctant, sure, but they weren’t about to test me. I got the impression they were used to following orders – and despite the absurdity of this one, they did as they were told.

“Legs further apart,” I tapped Betty’s thighs apart lightly with my shoe. She looked up at me and pouted. “Arf once for yes,” I said as I tapped the brush between her parted cheeks.

“Woof,” she blushed.

It was hard to imagine these very introverted girls, who thought very little of being naked, being genuinely embarrassed. Their blushing cheeks were no act – they were mortified.

I’d arrived fairly early because my aunt had scheduled her “date” to start early. In retrospect, I believe she may have asked me to come early in case I backed out so she’d have time to try to find another sitter. It was just approaching sunset, and we had a little more than thirty minutes we could spend outside before the pizza guy was supposed to be there.

I assumed I could give the girls an ‘attitude adjustment’ in that time, and 30 minutes would be enough time for my cousins to have their egos popped by acting like cute little puppy girls in the backyard.

The fence wasn’t exactly tall, and if any neighbors happened to glance out, they’d have a show. I paused at the door, glancing back at the girls.

“As long as you stay down on all fours, you should be fine,” I said with a smirk.

They crawled forward, their bare skin dragging over the carpet before they reached the doorway. The girls said nothing as we walked next to them. The cool evening air hit them as they shuffled outside; the rough concrete of the patio was probably very hard on their knees.

I didn’t want to hurt them - just tease them. I hurried the girls into the grass. I didn’t think about the possibility that they may develop grass itch when their bare skin came into contact with it.

“Are we not...” Betty began to ask a question as she turned her head to me. She seemed clearly worried. I smiled sadistically - that was the reaction that I wanted.

These girls were obvious extroverts with no qualms about their own nudity. They were clearly difficult to humiliate, but it wasn’t impossible.

I cut her off with a sharp look. “Bark, Betty.”

She hesitated, then let out an awkward, half-hearted “Arf.”

Archie growled. “That’s pathetic. Proper dogs, you lot. Let’s hear it.”

Veronica rolled her eyes but gave in, louder this time. “Arf, arf!” It still sounded stiff, but the blush on her cheeks told me it was sinking in.

I crouched down and grabbed a stick from the lawn. “Fetch! Pups!”

They hesitated, but then I thwacked their cute butts with the next stick and told them we could play smack the ass, or they could fetch.

The girls looked at each other, almost as if they were silently confirming that the other wasn’t going to rebel or protest. They crawled forward, their bums swaying, toothbrushes bobbing like little tails. They moved slowly through the high grass.

“It’s about time for you slags to mow the grass again,” Archie observed. He was becoming a stickler and getting into this game with his sisters relatively easily. I call it a game now because it wasn’t the lesson in humility that I hoped it would have been.

I would have questioned a babysitter, making my sister bark like a dog in the backyard – Archie just rolled with it.

“Do your sisters do the lawn work?” I asked. Mine definitely didn’t. That was seen as “men’s work,” and by that, I meant that my little brother and I did most of it.

“Not always. Mum says that it’s more trouble than it’s worth to make them do it, so she often ends up doing it herself on her days off,” he said. He never suggested that he mow his own lawn.

I called to the girls that they needed to hurry, and told them we were getting bored. Betty had the stick in her mouth, navigating the tall grass in the backyard to crawl back to us with it. I tossed another stick so that Veronica could fetch it.

“Fetch it, girl,” I teased playfully as I pointed in the direction, I wanted them to crawl – the yard was dominated by a single large tree. It was mostly grass, weeds, and fence – plenty of room to run around.

“Look at you two, wagging your arses like right proper mutts. Might as well stick a collar on ya!” Archie ridiculed his sisters.

“Do you have something we could use for collars?” I assumed that it may humiliate them a little further.

At first, Archie suggested duct tape, but when the girls got back Betty had an idea. “I’ve some headbands in our room that may make a proper collar, would you like me to go get it?” she offered helpfully.

“The last time I sent one of you to fetch something in the house, I found you masturbating on the floor with your mother’s dildo, tell me where it is, and I’ll go get it.”

Betty told me where to look, and I dashed inside, leaving Archie chucking sticks across the yard. For a second, I thought I’d walked into the wrong room. It was tiny—barely bigger than a closet—and cramped, with just one small bed shoved against the wall. The furniture was sparse, with a single dresser and a shared closet crammed into the corner. No TV, no decorations, just the basics. I rummaged around until I spotted two headbands tucked in a drawer—one red, one orange—perfect for what I had in mind.

As I passed Archie’s room, it was hard not to notice how much better he had it. He had a full-size bed, not one of those dinky twin things, with a TV tucked in the corner—it looked like one of those newer color sets, too. His Atari 2600 was hooked up, joysticks tossed on the floor, and cartridges scattered everywhere. I spotted Pac-Man, Space Invaders, and even Pitfall sitting in a messy pile. Star Wars posters were slapped all over the walls—Luke, Vader, the whole lot—like he’d raided the back of a comic bookstore. The place was basically a shrine to every cool thing a kid could want.

Archie’s room was MUCH better than mine!

When I got back, I could see their embarrassment fading. Archie tossed an old tennis ball he found, and the girls were trying to pick it up with their teeth while laughing because they couldn’t. “I can’t budge it, Archie!”

“Mutts with minges don’t talk, and it’s Mister Archie,” he chucked another tennis ball at his sister, barely missing her ass. She giggled and made a woof sound. “Push it back with your turned-up pig nose then, you lazy mongrel!”

The girls were giggling over the absurdity of it all. I’d meant to humble them, but now they were acting like it was the best game they’d ever played. I stepped out into the yard while they crawled back toward the patio, still chuckling, toothbrushes bobbing with every movement. It was a perfect evening for us to do this – not too hot, not too cool.

Betty craned her neck up toward me, her grin wide and shameless. Her hair was a mess, strands sticking out at odd angles, but she didn’t seem to care. I took the red headband and slid it over her head, pulling it down snugly around her neck. She tilted her chin, giving me just enough room to adjust it. The elastic clung tight, pressing against her skin, but not so much that it’d cut off circulation. Just enough to make sure it wouldn’t slip off, no matter how much she wriggled or wagged her so-called tail.

“There,” I muttered, giving it a little tug to make sure it stayed put. “Fits like a charm.”

Betty giggled again, wiggling her shoulders. “Feels proper snug, Mister Dalton. Might not come off even if I tried.”

I spanked her butt and reminded my cousin to bark. It was abundantly clear to me that her pussy was dripping wet, and she giggle-barked her compliance.

Now you’ve gone and done it, Mr. Dalton,” Archie chuckled, eyeing the girls as they crawled around with their new collars. “Look at ‘em—proper Crufts show dogs now, aren’t they? Not the scruffy little fleabags they were five minutes ago.”

“I want one, I want one,” Betty headed toward me, and before I could smack her behind, she barked a few times playfully at me and wagged her ass. The brush almost fell out, and she reached behind herself and pushed it in a little deeper. I attached her collar, and she preened pridefully, showing off as she sauntered back and forth on all fours.

I noticed after a bit of practice; the girls were starting to move quicker on all fours than when they first got outside. They loosened up, and giggled, while playing together. Archie stuck plastic shovels and toys in the ground that the girls were able to push with their nose, and play over like real dogs, growling and panting at one another.

It was odd, because I fully expected the girls to be deeply humiliated. My cousins obviously believed they HAD to do what I said. I concluded that they were making the best of an embarrassing situation or they were simply having a good time roleplaying as dogs in their backyard – make believe tooth brush tails and all.

Their natural lack of modesty had a lot to do with it because their pussies were dripping, their tits were jiggling, their assholes were on display, and they had no consideration for how silly they looked once they got over the absurdity of it – they were sweaty and giggly.

Betty leaped over an ant pile, pushing off her back feet like a little jackrabbit. That gave me an idea.

“Alright, enough of the lazy crawling,” I called out, stepping forward. “Betty, that little hop wasn’t half bad. Let’s see you both prance like proper show dogs.”

They glanced at each other, unsure, but I waved them on. “Keep your backs arched, push off those knees, and bring those front paws up high. I want to see you bounce.”

They started moving, lifting their hands higher with each step, pushing off their knees with more force. Their hips swayed, and with every little bounce, their boobs jiggled, swaying side to side like they were on display. Betty’s breasts bounced more wildly with each spring while Veronica tried to keep pace, her chest shaking with every quick step. The toothbrushes wobbled in rhythm with the rest of them, making the whole scene look ridiculous—and exactly how I wanted it.

I tossed the stick across the yard, and they scrambled after it, that competitive streak kicking in despite themselves.

“That’s it, Veronica—never thought I’d see you this well-trained! You aren’t purebred, but you make a better dog than a sister! WOOF!”

“I am a good doggy AND a good sister, Mister Archie,” Betty pouted. We didn’t scold them for occasionally talking as long as they punctuated their sentences with a bark or two. I didn’t think much of the observation at the time because we were laughing and joking around, and Betty had said it so casually.

Archie’s response floored me. He leaned forward, grinning like he had Betty right where he wanted her, and critiqued her.

I quickly surmised that there were two ways to get through to the girls. You could offer them free stuff, stroke their egos, and that’d work a little. But if you really wanted to get them going? You humiliated them. Teased them. Pointed out how they looked, how they acted—especially if you called them plain or unappealing. If you really wanted to see them, try? You compared them to each other.

The more you told them they weren’t cutting it, the more they bent over backward to prove you wrong. Put them side by side, make them compete for a little attention, and they’d go all out. I wasn’t sure if Archie had that figured out from the start or if he just stumbled into it, but observing how Betty offered to be a better sister while humiliating herself – I realized she meant it.

That’s when it clicked. That was the trick—they ate it up, and it kept them right where we wanted them. “You’d make a better dog if your nose was lower to the grass, your arse higher in the air, and my former toothbrush that’s now your tail was wagging’ like your chin when you are nattering on.”

He let that sink in before adding, “But as for being a good sister?” He snorted, shaking his head. “You’d be a better one if you got my tea without whining, stopped running your gob about what you wanted every five seconds, and maybe—just maybe—mowed the grass without being told three bloody times.”

Betty smirked; she found his criticism endearing. Her pretty blue eyes glinted with that same bratty pride. The grin tugging at the corner of her mouth gave her away. She let out a playful bark, wagging her hips and throwing him a wink like she was proud of herself. Then, just to drive it home, she panted like a dog, stuck her ass up higher, and gave an exaggerated little shake, the toothbrush wobbling with it. She shot Archie a nod—whether it meant she’d try harder or just loved pushing his buttons, I wasn’t sure. Probably both.

He wasn’t done. “And while you’re at it, you could stop nickin’ the last biscuit, quit leaving your crap all over the house, and for once, just once, remember to shut the door behind you.”

Betty pouted, and she stuck out her bottom lip like she was actually offended now that he brought up biscuits. “Woof! I’ll try harder, Mister Archie!” she chirped, giggling as she shot him a cheeky grin. She tilted her head, panting dramatically like a happy little pup. “But I think I prefer bein’ a puppy. It’s proper fun. She barked again, louder this time, wagging her hips like she was strutting her stuff at a dog show. “You should strip off and come play!”

“Someone’s gotta throw the stick and keep you two fleabags from biting the hand that feeds you—or digging your way through the fence,” Archie teased, grinning like his role was some great sacrifice. He looked down at Betty like she was really just a dumb mutt; needing constant minding.

Betty let out a playful bark, wagging her hips. “It’s kinda liberating, though, innit?” she giggled, glancing up at him. “Just romping about, chasing after sticks...” She paused, giving him a cheeky grin. “But don’t worry, Mister Archie—I wouldn’t trade places with you. Bein’ the puppy’s way more fun.”

The girls frequently got in each other’s faces, and sniffed each other or growled playfully – it was almost like they were going to kiss one another.

Veronica rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the smirk creeping onto her face. “It’s bloody embarrassing,” she muttered, glancing down at herself, “but I’ll admit—it’s actually a lot of fun.” She nudged Betty with her shoulder, then looked up at Archie with a playful glint. “So, who’s the better sister then, Archie? I seldom ever complain about making your tea, you know!” She stuck her tongue out at him, but the teasing in her voice was unmistakable.

“You lot could start being proper sisters; by addressing me as Mister Archie and barking like the mutts you are pretending to be,” he scowled as he tossed another stick for the two of them to chase. “You’re more like one of those lazy lap dogs—cute but needs a good kick up the arse to get moving.”

I was enjoying watching them go at it, but I nearly lost my nerve when I spotted a neighbor on the other side of the fence. He was out watering his hedges, standing just close enough that he could probably see—or even hear—the girls if he paid any attention. But if he noticed anything, he didn’t let on.

You want to know who’s the better sister?” Archie asked, shaking his head like the answer was obvious. “Neither of you is worth much in that department. You are about as obedient as sisters as you are as dogs. Mum and I have to throw a stick to get you to do anything, and you are as likely to stop and sniff each other’s arses as you are to finish the job you are on.”

I thought that was funny. The girls pretended to sniff each other’s butts playfully. I wanted to warn Archie that the neighbor might hear him, but I couldn’t get a word in edgewise.