Chapter 58
Irma Loses a Bet

It was a good thirty minutes until the others began to arrive; Irma tried to leave on four separate occasions, but she lacked the speed and agility. Her tongue worked, though, and she called Stick's father every name she could think of -- and spun three or four tales of possible gay sexual combinations (since that seemed to set Pop off), some of which were unfortunately true.

Stick collected everyone downstairs. After he and Mary made introductions, he said, "Pop was pretty pissed; I'm probably gonna end up out on the street, one way or another. Your mama didn't know anything, right? I'm not real clear on how this happened!"

Arthur Nally popped up, "I imagine that she went looking for a sore spot -- but she may have guessed. It's hard to say."

"Well, Pop DOESN'T know -- or he didn't. I don't know how this is gonna go."

"Will he hurt anyone?" Mary asked.

"I don't think so. He don't have a gun or anything. But your mama might have two black eyes..." Stick turned to the stair.

"THAT wouldn't hurt her," Arthur mumbled under his breath.

"Pop, we're all here!" Stick called, outside the door. There were a lot of white folk in the hall -- eyes were peeking around corners everywhere.

"Well, git in here, outta the hallway, then!" Pop called back. "You keep your ass on the couch!" he admonished Irma. Everybody filed in. "Git over there where I can keep an eye on ya!"

Several of the new arrivals were pleased that there weren't any guns or knives showing. Pop turned to Stick. "Awright, who's who?"

"This is Mary..."

"That's fuckin' obvious."

"And this is Ted."

"Is it Ted, or Teddy? The fat bitch keeps sayin' Teddy."

"It's Teddy, Sir," Teddy piped up.

Pop nodded. "Little fucker's got manners, at least. Next!"

"This is Mary's dad..."

Arthur nodded his head. "Arthur Nally."

"You put up with her shit regular?" Pop asked, nodding at Irma.

"Too often," Arthur replied.

"Arthur!" Irma screeched.

"Shaddap! You had your say!" Pop bellowed. "I oughta duct-tape your mouth shut!"

"And this is Teddy's mom..." Stick finished.

"Where's your daddy, Boy?" Pop asked Teddy.

"He's dead, I'm afraid," Frieda interjected. "I'm Frieda Frick."

"Frick?" Pop looked amused. Teddy colored, but Frieda held her peace, nodding.

"Awright. I'd like for this to be a man thing, but too many of ya got a right ta be here. Except for this nasty-mouthed twat," he waved at Irma, "I apologize in advance for anything too rough gets said. Okay?" Mary and Frieda nodded.

"Awright, c'mere, ya slip -- Mary, ain't it?" Pop waved her forward.

"Yes, Sir."

"We gonna start with the basics. Everybody seems ta agree you been spreadin' it for Stick -- AND for Teddy! What's up with that?" Mary flashed a look at Stick and flicked her eyes to Teddy, but Pop wasn't buying. "You're talkin' to me, now -- it's too late for snow jobs!"

"Okay. It started out more or less accidentally, but I get different things from each of them -- and I like it that way." Mary declared.

"Who else you fuckin'?"

"Nobody."

"Stick asked ya to fuck somebody else, would ya?"

Mary chewed this one over; how was it relevant? "Maybe. It depends."

"On what?"

"Circumstances. Reasons. If it made sense. If Teddy agreed..."

"Ah. So, is this Slutville, or not? Don't sound like it, quite," Pop mused. "What's Teddy got to do with it?"

"They're equals, in some ways." Mary decided that the truth was the way to go.

Pop flashed a glance at Stick. "Ain't the way I heard it."

"We figured we would start out with something you might swallow," Mary replied.

"Huh." Pop's eyes took in both young men. "Equals, huh? Why is that? What's equal about ya?"

"They're different," Mary worked to salvage things. "It's too difficult to compare them. Like apples and oranges."

"What's so different? Besides one of 'em is a white boy..."

"Really, it's kind of obvious..." Mary trailed off.

Pop eyed Teddy. "I hear you ain't got much of a dick."

"I lied," Stick said flatly.

"It's 'Show and Tell'," Pop grated. "Show me."

Teddy undid his pants. Predictably, he was shrunken to even smaller than normal. "That's not fair!" Frieda blustered. "He's scared to death!"

"There's somethin' to see?" Pop grunted. "Can ya get it up, Son? This ain't about getting' hurt..."

"I--I don't know..."

"Get ya some help, maybe..." Pop's eyes flashed around the room; significantly, they lit on Stick, too. Stick knew some test would be coming... "I guess mosta the others wouldn't be right. Mary, you done this before, right?"

"Yessir."

"You figure this is the right circumstances?"

"Yessir." Mary went to her knees before Teddy and took control of his cock.

"Mary! You stop that this instant! My God!" Irma screeched. "Arthur, say something!"

"Shut up, Irma," Arthur said tonelessly. "Mary wants to do this, I think." Mary, her mouth full, nodded. Teddy, thankfully, was showing some signs of life...

Pop watched for a bit, then frowned. "What the fuck? Back off, Girl -- lemme see this!"

Mary backed off, smiling; Teddy was in full flower. "See? THAT's what's different!"

"Damn, Son -- that's the weirdest dick I ever saw!" Pop exclaimed. "It be different from Stick's -- that's for sure..." He sighed. "I hate to do this to ya, Boy, but we need to move on. Tuck it back in..." Turning to Stick, he asked, "So, you're fuckin' her, right?"

"Yep." Stick's face was calm.

"Okay, prove it. I wanna see it. Tip her up over there on the couch and give her a nut."

"Pop!"

"Ya been doin' it or ya ain't -- and if ya have, it ain't no big deal! You okay with that, Red?" Pop addressed Mary.

"Uh huh. C'mon, Stick, your Dad's right -- it's not like we haven't done it before..." Mary grabbed Stick by the wrist.

"Okay," Stick grunted. "Get your panties off. Dunno how I'm gonna get going, either, at this rate..." Too bad he couldn't use Teddy... But he started coming up right away, no problem, in Mary's hands.

"This is an outrage!" Irma protested. "Disgusting! I can't watch this! It's horrible!"

"Look away, then. Y'all okay?" Pop asked the couple setting up beside Mary's mother.

"Um, yeah..." Mary was slouched back with her dress up and her legs spread; Stick was looking for the proper stance, adjusting his knees wider and narrower. Mary started rubbing Stick's glans against her slot, intent on her work.

"Uh, if y'all don't want to see this..." Pop offered to Arthur and Frieda. "The fat bitch, there, says she ain't, so I figure it's important to her -- but y'all do as ya please..."

"Fuck you!" Irma hissed -- but she was watching her daughter absorb Stick's length.

"You'll never go back to dogs, Bitch!" Pop replied. He shifted his attention to Arthur and Frieda.

Arthur murmured, "If she's fine, I'm fine." Mary nodded confirmation.

"I don't understand how this is relevant..." Frieda murmured -- but her eyes were glued to the juncture of the black boy and the white girl. Stick was clearly just as excited to be in there...

"That fat racist cunt on the couch doesn't like it," Pop replied. "That'd be reason number one. Second, she said that she never saw them fucking -- an' she implied that somethin' else was goin' on, instead. We're clearin' up whether Stick is queer or not, for one thing."

"Oh..." Frieda couldn't tear her eyes away -- which was a general situation that included Irma.

Pussy was pussy; Stick found that he COULD get it going, and once he did, it wasn't too bad. Mary started dry, but she was lubing up... She leaned up to kiss him. "Just get it -- don't let them bother you. I'm not..."

Pop turned to Teddy. "I guess that brings us back to you. You queer, Boy?"

Teddy fidgeted. "Not totally, Sir," he finally got out. "I like that."

"Meanin' Mary?"

"Uh huh. Stick usually goes first -- it opens her up. Otherwise, it's real hard to get in."

"You an' Stick asshole buddies?" Pop asked.

Teddy paused a long time. "It's not like that. Ma, cover your ears. You see, Stick likes to get his dick wet. That doesn't make him queer. If I lined up on you for a blowjob with a couple of girls, you'd probably pick me as best, if you were blindfolded -- and a lot of that is because I know what feels good. Believe it or not, we tried it."

"You didn't answer my question."

Another long pause. "Stick's been in me. He's been in Mary, too. An ass is an ass, I guess."

Stick stopped dead. "Dammit, Pop! I can't finish what I'm doin' if I have ta worry 'bout you kicking the shit out of me!"

Pop turned his attention on Stick, but he pointed a finger at Teddy. "You taken a dick up your ass, Boy?"

Teddy shook his head no, and Stick, who could see neither of them, verbalized it, "No. Not my thing." Mary, watching Pop over Sticks shoulder, added her head shake to Teddy's.

"You suck a dick?" Pop challenged.

All three of them froze. But all three of them decided that they were safe in a lie. Teddy shook his head. A moment later, Stick said, "No, Pop." Mary added her agreement.

"Go back to fuckin'," Pop grunted. "I think all three of ya jus' lied to me -- but that's sorta impressive."

Teddy piped up, "You've seen me. I'm not going to be in an ass."

"Boy, you don' know what I seen. But I'll buy it that you ain't tried it," Pop replied.

Teddy shrugged. "It's just not Stick's thing..."

"What's YOUR thing, Boy?"

"Ma..."

"Whatever it takes, Dear."

"Okay. I like to fuck. I like to be sucked. I like to make other people happy, so I like to suck. I kind of like being fucked," Teddy went down the list.

"So what does Stick do for you, Boy?"

Teddy was ready. "He lets me make him happy. There's some more to it; he protects me and Mary. He makes the tough decisions. He shares."

Pop sighed. "You still told me more'n you should have."

Arthur piped up. "There's a range, here. It's called bisexual. It's not gay, and it's not straight -- it's more just... open. But it IS a range. I've talked to all three of them about it, and Teddy is well over the hump toward being homosexual -- but he isn't, quite. He's very submissive, and in a lot of ways almost female -- sorry, Ma'am." He nodded at Frieda, who said nothing. "Stick is the opposite; he's mostly into females, and completely into -- as Teddy says -- getting his dick wet. He won't do anything that endangers his position as top dog in the relationship -- but he'll fuck anyone that offers, within limits."

Stick had stopped again. "Shit, Mary, I can't do this while they talk about me!"

Mary sighed. "I can't, either. Let's just wait like this."

"Why don't you two just stop that disgusting, unnatural act?" Irma ranted. "I can't believe..."

"SHUT UP!" came from at LEAST three sources.

"Boy, you can stop worryin' when you answer just ONE question so I'll believe it!" Pop rasped. "If ya don't, your ass is outta here, so you need to think about it REAL HARD!" He paused, then posed the question again, "Now, Boy, DO YOU SUCK DICK?"

Stick locked eyes with Mary. Several seconds went by. Finally, he murmured, "One dick. Teddy's. Because he deserves it."

Mary followed this up with, "And that's MY fault -- because I browbeat him that he was just taking from Teddy and not giving him anything in the relationship!"

Pop sat there, looking at Teddy, who had tears running down his face. "This is fucked up."

"If I had known it would come to this, I'd never have allowed it," Teddy husked.

Stick turned around. "Pop, this ain't about queer or straight. It's about me, and him and her. That's all. Jus' me and him and her."

Pop looked at Teddy. "That the way it is? Nobody else?" Teddy nodded. Pop turned to Stick, "Boy, take yo' friends up to you mama's and my room. Don't fuck the place up, but take care of business. The rest of us got adult shit to talk about." He sat looking at Teddy while Stick unplugged himself from Mary, helped her up, and collected Teddy, tucking him between himself and Mary as he led them out.

When they were gone, he repeated himself, "This is fucked up." Irma opened her mouth, and he grated, "Shut up! You ain't brought nothin' positive to the table yet!" He rubbed his face and turned to Arthur, "You seem to know shit -- what happened?"

Arthur shrugged. "Blind luck. I picked up on it early and got most of the answers. None of them is out doing anything or anybody else. Stick isn't gay, and hasn't done anything gay with anyone else. Teddy was in early experimentation; Mary probably stopped him from coming out confused. Mary -- Mary's happy..." he flicked his eyes at Irma, "generally."

"I'll get back to ya," Pop grunted. He turned to Frieda, "What's your take on this?"

"I was totally blind until yesterday," Frieda replied, "but I don't have a problem with it. I don't have a problem with either of them."

"Well I do!" Irma piped up. "I think it's a crime against nature! It's sick, that's what it is! All this wild sex... Musical chairs... It's godawful!"

Pop rubbed his face again and, ignoring Irma's ongoing tirade, turned to Arthur. "What's your name again?"

"Arthur."

"Arthur, this dizzy bitch has spent the past hour or so sounding like the queen of the white supremacists! She's insulted me about two million times in my own home, an' I wanna kick her big fuckin' white ass right up between her fuckin' ears! Being you be her husband an' all, I'm wonderin' if you want to take responsibility for the bitch..."

Arthur sat there for a moment, looking at Pop Williams. Then he looked at Irma, who sat with her arms crossed, glaring at him. Then he turned back to Pop, "Ordinarily, I'd feel some obligation to support her sorry ass -- but she came here to make trouble and to ruin my daughter's life, so I figure she can get what's coming to her."

Pop sat back. "You ain't wearin' a pointy white hood today? Or you jus' too chicken to mix it up wit' me?"

Arthur took off his eyeglasses and gazed down at them. "If you feel you need to fight me, that's fine -- but I'd prefer that you save your energy for Irma; she's well padded. I don't know where this crap she's spouting came from, but I don't agree with any of it, and, frankly, I think you have a real fine boy!"

"Arthur, you fucking traitor! I want a divorce! I'm going to take you for every nickel you ever made!" Irma screeched.

"Jeezus!" Pop leaned up and slapped Irma right across the mouth, then sat back watching Arthur, who made no move. Frieda flinched, and Pop spared her a glance. "I'm real sorry you had ta see that." He turned back to Arthur. "But?"

"But nothing," Arthur replied, shaking his head. "Stick had it right -- it's about the relationship. The three of them are growing something non-standard in the way of a relationship. Now, I have no problem with that. Frieda, here, has said the same. It's up to you and Irma -- and I'm prepared to fight Irma."

"Well, I'M prepared to KICK IRMA'S FAT ASS!" Pop roared, getting up in her face.

"Do what you like! I won't have MY daughter turning out a half-dozen half-breed babies and a bunch of God knows what for a couple of queers!" Irma spat.

"Long as they be sharin' your daughter's pussy, they ain't queer!" Pop replied, his eyes slits. "What you got against black dick, anyway, bitch? You miss out when you was younger?"

"You blacks and your big egos, trying to paper over your natural inferiority! You expect me to buy into the black sexual superman myth? Bullshit!" Irma screeched.

"Big talk, bitch! You up for a wager?"

Irma's eyes narrowed. "What kind of wager?"

"I bet I got two inches of cock on your old man, there. If I'm wrong, I'll make Stick stay away from Mary. But if I'm right, I'm gonna poke it in every one of your skanky holes and blow a wad -- an' you'll suck it up an' run your little brown, kinky-haired grandchildren around the block in their stroller, all proud-like -- right with the white ones!"

Irma's mind raced. She had no real concept of what 'normal' was for a cock; she'd had two, and the other one was longer than Arthur's. Still, she'd seen two more today, and Stick's, while longer than Arthur's, wasn't anything ridiculous.

Pop, meanwhile, shifted his gaze to the others. Arthur put back on his eyeglasses; Frieda just sat there, petrified. Pop eyed her. "This is outta hand. If you don't wanta be here, you can go inta the next room, or somethin'. We got to fix this."

"Will it be fixed?" Frieda asked, fearful for her son, rather than herself. "The gay parts..."

Pop waved it off. "Special case. Don' want it getting' out in the 'hood, but..." He nodded at Irma. "Problem is THERE!" He turned to Arthur. "Okay, this is different. That's your pussy -- you got a say..."

"It's MY pussy!" Irma insisted. "Only I get a say!"

Pop's expression reflected sadness. "She like that alla time?"

"Some. For a while, now." Arthur's reply was toneless. "This is the worst, by quite a distance." He looked at his wife. "I'm out of it -- let her make her own decisions."

Irma grinned in triumph. "Okay, Superman -- two inches, huh? I don't think Arthur is average -- do you?"

Pop just eyed her. "Three."

"Three! Three inches? So the bet is that you're three inches longer than he is?" Pop nodded, warily. "Done!" Irma cackled.

Pop turned to Frieda. "In the next room, in Rose's sewing cabinet, there will be a cloth measuring tape in the left-hand drawer. Would y'all get it for us?" Frieda, wide-eyed, nodded, and bustled off to collect the tape. Pop turned to Arthur. "I didn't ask you if you wanted to do this."

"I see where it's going."

"You packing any surprises?"

"No."

"Then she's fucked."

"Yeah, sure! Whip it out, Superman! Show me the Black Master's super snake!" She turned to Arthur, "Pay attention, Dear -- no doubt it'll be longer than yours, anyway. I spent two years helping you keep your job by fucking that bastard Chase, before he moved on -- I've seen better than you before!"

Arthur looked shocked. Pop shook his head. "Man, that sucks! I already seen more of YOUR home life than I wanna!" Frieda bustled back in with the cloth tape. "Okay, you're a witness, right?" Pop addressed her.

"Yesssss." Frieda had no idea how things had come to this -- but she couldn't leave. Somehow, at some point, this black man had stopped being the enemy and started championing both their sons against the hatred and vituperation Mary's mother was putting out. Things were... weird... but she felt compelled to see them play themselves out...

"You good with that, Bitch?" Pop prompted. "Maybe you want the kids to see you go down?"

"She'll do to witness you eating crow, Superman! Let's go! I've got things to do!" Irma snarled.

"Go ahead, Man," Pop directed. Arthur stood and deliberately unzipped his trousers, then lowered them to the floor. He looked first at Irma, then Frieda, then shucked out of his boxers. Pop took a look and grunted, "You suck, there, White Supremacist Bitch? Mebbe you wanna fluff him a bit before the measurement?" Arthur was only half-hard.

"It's probably enough to handle the handicap already!" Irma countered. "Come on, stop talking and start embarrassing yourself!"

Pop argued, "I'm serious! You're gonna want to get everything you can! You got five minutes once Miz Frick here says time starts -- but I get equal time!"

"Five?" Irma looked disgusted. "Too long -- two!"

Pop shrugged. "Two it is. Miz Frick, you clear on the bet?"

"I think so. Your... equipment is to be at least three inches longer than Mr. Nally's. Mrs. Nally has two minutes to get the maximum erection possible from each of you."

"That it, bitch?"

"Fine. Christ, Arthur, you could make SOME showing!" Irma bitched.

"Ya got two minutes to help him..." Pop pointed out.

"Stop talking and get it out!" Irma ranted. "I need to take my daughter home!"

"Fine." Pop unzipped and dropped his baggy blue jeans.

Stick, Teddy, and Mary weren't up to 'taking care of business' when they entered Stick's parent's bedroom. The previous half hour or so had been extremely stressful for them all; Teddy was openly crying and Mary was on the verge of tears. Stick couldn't seem to lift his various burdens THAT far -- release seemed to be denied him. "I dunno WHAT the fuck Pop's gonna do now!"

"What do you figure they're up to?" Teddy asked fearfully.

"I figure they're arguing over who is going to try to stop us and who isn't -- and how," Mary guessed.

"Yeh," Stick agreed. "I'm thinkin' it's two against two. Mary's Mama an' my Pop against Teddy's Mama and Mary's Pop. Don't look good." He looked at Teddy. "Mebbe I can crash at your place. Dunno WHAT the fuck we gonna do 'bout Mary..."

"Let's not buy trouble, Hon. My Poppa might carry things..." Mary hoped.

"Ma isn't exactly committed -- and she isn't exactly gutsy," Teddy sighed. "In the meantime, what are we gonna do?"

"I'm tempted to have one last blast -- but I don't think I'm up for it," Stick sighed.

"Me either," Mary agreed. Teddy nodded his head. The three cuddled up on the bed for several minutes, trying to get control of their emotions. Finally, Teddy stopped openly crying and Mary stopped shaking. Stick grunted, "I can't believe it's takin' this long... Somebody plannin' to move outta town, or somethin'?" He hopped up. "I'm gonna try to get a look; y'all wait here..."

"Omigod!" Frieda exclaimed. Pop Williams organ as revealed was a good two inches longer than Arthur's, completely flaccid!

Irma looked back and forth. Experience told her that Arthur had a bit more in him, but that much? She began to know real fear. "Come on, Arthur -- DO something!"

"Uh uh," Pop admonished. "Ain't up to him. It's up to YOU! Best you get him hard..."

Irma looked to him for clearance and Pop stood back, allowing her to get up off the couch. Irma ponderously got up and moved over in front of Arthur, kneeling before him and hissing, "You're embarrassing me!"

Arthur shrugged. "You're the one that got yourself into this."

Pop looked over at Frieda. "You gotta watch, Miz Frick?"

"Do I have a watch, or do I have TO watch?" Frieda asked.

"Both."

"Yes." She positioned herself to Arthur's left (Irma's right), where Pop's monster organ was also in her field of view, looked at her watch, and announced, "You may start."

Irma, with obvious reluctance, took up Arthur's cock and started jacking it. Pop murmured, "Keep an eye out, Miz Frick. I get equal time -- and whatever he gets!"

Irma looked up, scowling. "You mean I have to do this to you?"

"Yeh." Pop grinned.

"EWWWW!!!" Irma dropped her hands.

"You lose this bet, Bitch, an' that'll be fuckin' NOTHIN' to what happens!" Pop grated. Irma thought about it, eyed Pop's snake, and started jacking again.

Arthur got hard against his will; even given the situation, any attention was better than none. Irma watched with satisfaction as his cock stiffened and the glans puffed out, filled with blood. Pop, watching, grunted, "Nothin' wrong with that. You be a picky bitch, ain't ya?"

"Shut up," Irma rasped. "This is MY time!" She directed a venomous look at Arthur, who she was certain was holding back -- and which had a negative effect on him; he subsided a bit under the glare. "Dammit, Arthur!"

"You aren't exactly making this a pleasant experience!" Arthur retorted.

Frieda watched, fascinated. Both men present exceeded Hubby's capabilities by a significant margin; Mr. Williams was absolutely HUGE! Twenty-four hours before, Frieda could not have even envisioned this scene. A few minutes ago, she was scared to death, both for herself and for her son. Now, she was floating beyond all that, running on apparently unneeded adrenaline -- and succumbing to the fascination with male sex organs first experienced earlier in the day.

Irma shut up and concentrated on Arthur's cock, managing to bring it to something resembling its potential. Pop, watching Frieda, recognized fascination and cleared his throat. Frieda looked up, blushed, checked her watch, and announced, "Time!"

"How long was it really?" Pop asked.

"Almost three minutes." Frieda looked away, embarrassed.

Irma glared. Pop grunted, "Don' give her any shit -- you needed it! Git a measurement!" He grinned. "Best keep him fluffed up, there!"

Frieda fumbled with the tape. "Top side," Pop recommended. "Bottom is longer, 'cause of the curve, but then you get inta arguments 'bout where the cock ends and the balls start..."

With shaking hands, Frieda placed the metal tab of the tape against Arthur's pubic bone and rolled it out. "Ummm, six inches, right at."

Pop peered over the top. "Decent. Take a look, Bitch. Satisfied?"

Irma rolled her eyes. "It's all I'm gonna get, I guess." She directed another withering glance at Arthur.

"Ain't his fault," Pop grunted. "That's 'bout normal. An' you ain't helped him much. Git your big ass over here -- it's my turn!" Arthur made to pull up his pants, but Pop waved him off. "Leave it -- she might want to go for best two outta three..."

Irma turned, but squinched up her face. "I'm not touching that!"

"Fuck you ain't, you dizzy bitch!" Pop growled. "You made the rules -- now you'll live by 'em!"

Irma glared up at him. "You can't make me!"

SMACK!! Pop lambasted Irma across the face, then grabbed a handful of her hair. "You in serious shit, here, an' you ain't got no friends! Git your shit together, Bitch!" Pop got right down in Irma's face. Standing back up, he flicked a glance at Arthur, who was frowning slightly, but said nothing.

Irma turned watery eyes on Arthur. "He hit me!"

Arthur's face went totally blank. "Did it knock any sense into you?"

"What?"

"How many times do I have to say this? You entered this man's home and insulted him, his family, and his race! I disagree with ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING you have said on this matter, and you haven't given me any reason to support you! I'm not interceding! Be happy I'm not helping him!"

"But you're my husband!"

"And you want a divorce! Frankly, I think that's a pretty good idea! In any case, you made a wager, here, in front of witnesses. You need to follow through!"

Irma looked around; this wasn't the way things were supposed to be! Arthur was SUPPOSED to cave and do as he was told -- support her! Instead, he was just standing there with that iron-hard look on his face that he'd been displaying off and on for several days, now. Things were NOT as they should be! Now, this ugly black bastard was using her hair to turn her face away from her husband's, tilting her face up to his...

"About time you got started, ain't it?" Pop growled. He drew back his hand. Actually, slapping the bitch around was starting to get him stiff, anyway -- some kind of reaction, probably...

Irma continued to look stubborn... and found herself riding out the second slap! "OW!"

"Git started! Do what ya said you would do!"

"Oh, all right! All right!" Irma took up Pop's heavy club of a cock. It felt different than Arthur's, both because of its size and the fact that it was currently dead weight.

"You jus' gonna look at it?" Pop grunted. Irma grimaced and started jacking the thing. Only the very tip exposed itself beyond the foreskin; she pulled it back until the head was exposed and let it retract. Pop thought it was a piss-poor effort, but he didn't need much... "Might as well start the time..."

Frieda nodded. She'd flinched at both slaps; now Arthur gently drew her away to whisper in her ear, "I know this looks awful -- but you can't imagine how much she needs this dose of reality. She's been just awful for some time -- and there was that other thing... Very embarrassing. That she would tell me such a thing in front of witnesses... Remember what we're trying to accomplish, here -- it's for the kids..."

Frieda nodded again, watching Irma pretend to work. She heard Arthur, and agreed with him, but the primary sensation she felt was his warm breath in her ear. Weirdly, she was tremendously excited; her nipples were rock hard, and she was wet between the legs -- something probably improper for someone who was witnessing what was from some standpoints an assault, and, if things continued as they were, was starting to look like the warmup for a rape...

Stick, creeping through the kitchen, nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of the slaps. He froze for half a minute before creeping forward to peek around the door. 'What the fuck?' Mary's Pop was standing there with his shit down around his ankles, whispering in Teddy's Mama's ear -- and both were watching... Mary's Mama jacking off Pop? Something really strange was goin' down...

"C'mon, Bitch, you're cheatin'," Pop grunted. "Git it movin'!" Irma was deliberately taking her time to keep the friction down from her pseudo-hand job. It wasn't helping that much, because he was growing, anyway, but she was cheating -- and everyone knew it! "I'm gonna slap your ass again!"

Frieda surprised herself by opening her mouth, "Is this how you prove that you're superior to him? By cheating? If you won't do it right, then I will!"

"Good!" Irma dropped her hand. "Do it!"

"Nope, she cain't," Pop argued. "Then you'd claim she cheated, someways. It's on you -- but if you won't even git me stiff, we're gonna go inta overtime."

"Nope, two minutes!" Irma countered.

"Nope, almost three!" Pop challenged. "Maybe I'll jus' slap your ass around for a while an' see if I stiffen up!" He raised a hand.

"Okay! Okay!" Irma went back at it, using both hands, and Pop began to seriously rise to the occasion -- something thoroughly frightening! The thing just kept growing... Still, three inches was a lot for a penis...

Stick continued to watch. Was this a game or something? There seemed to be rules... Mary's Mama was busy fuckin' it up, from the sound of things -- no surprise... Stick saw Pop's hand go up, and realized that he must've already slapped Mary's Mama a couple of times. Whatever the deal was, it was three on one, not two on two. Pop's meat was out there, slowly getting serious -- and everybody was watchin'! Fucking weird...

Things started to clarify in a moment, though. Teddy's Mama stepped forward and said, "Time!" and Pop said, "Get the measurement!" and Teddy's Mama took a measuring tape and measured Pop's cock! Things were quiet for a second, then Teddy's Mama said, "Lordy! Ten inches! Maybe even a bit more!"

Pop bent over Mary's Mama and said, "Get your look, Bitch, 'cause that's the last thing you do in this house that don't come from ME -- understand?"

"T-ten inches! It c-can't be!" Irma wailed -- but it was! Her eyes told her the same thing Ms. Frick's told her! Ten inches! Actually, a bit more! Oh, God!

"So! You lose the bet! You let the kids do whatever they're gonna -- an' that fixes everbody else -- but now I take ya down a couple of pegs an' you get ta see jus' what it's like, bein' ridden by a black man with a big dick!" Pop grabbed Irma by the hair, as she was attempting to take off. "Might as well get started! Turn your big ass around and suck!"

"Arthur, help!" Irma wailed.

Arthur looked at her, "I'm missing the reason why I should. This was YOUR brilliant idea, and it was made clear to you on several occasions that you would bear responsibility for it! Do what you told the man you WOULD do -- and stop whining!"

Pop's grip on her hair hurt; Irma was awash in pain, anger, and betrayal -- and now, real fear! "You're not really gonna..."

"Oh, yeah! I'm gonna enjoy it, too! Come in MY house and insult ME and MY RACE! Talk shit all afternoon long! Act like a total bitch! Time ta PAY, cunt!" Pop crowed, rubbing his cock against Irma's face.

"Look out!" Arthur somehow knew what Irma was going to try even before she did -- and that was just soon enough for Pop to clear her snapping teeth.

"Why..."

SMACK!

"You..."

SMACK!

"BITCH!!!"

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

Irma was positively loopy! It had been a LOOOONG time since someone had slapped her and she'd NEVER taken a series like this! "AAAAAAHHHH!!!" Her head swam, and she tasted blood. Her ears rang and her eyes weren't quite working right... She gazed stupidly at Pop, who then shook her a good one to keep the confusion flowing before snatching her blouse over her head -- but leaving her arms in the sleeves. Pushing the bulk of the blouse behind her did a fine job of encumbering her arms...

Frieda turned and buried her face in Arthur's shoulder, covering her ears; the violence was a bit much. Arthur found himself standing there with his pants down, holding a woman not his wife (by several dress sizes -- Frieda was robust, but not a 3X).

Pop tilted Irma's head up. "Now, do ya remember why you're here, bitch? The payoff was me dumping spunk in all three of your holes -- and that one under your nose qualifies. You try ta bite me again, and I'll break your fuckin' jaw! Understand?"

Pop was weaving in and out of focus for Irma, but she got the point, nodding, wide-eyed. Pop said, "Open your mouth!" and she did so, largely because her brain wasn't working. The next thing she knew, she had a mouth full of meat!

"Gak! Glurp!" Irma threw herself backwards and turned her head to meet Frieda's eyes as she backed away from Arthur. "Help me!"

Frieda glanced back at Arthur, whose face was a blank. "No. You... did this... to yourself... You made a wager. Pay up."

By then, Pop had Irma's hair again. "Turn around, ya fuckin' cow! Now, suck!"

A planned refusal to open her mouth failed due to a lack of courage when Pop's hand came up; Irma found herself again with a mouthful of dark meat. Since she had been disinclined to allow Arthur such privileges, he expected to see her flounder a bit -- but it turned out she knew how to suck a cock after all... Obviously, Arthur's old boss had been more persuasive. Pop set to guiding her with the hand in her hair, and when things appeared to be going well, he put it on automatic and looked up at Arthur. "I'm gonna owe you when this is over."

Arthur wasn't sure, frankly, whether Pop meant some atonement for using his wife like a street tramp, or that he felt that he owed Arthur an ass-whipping; to be safe, he just nodded. Frieda turned around and was watching again. "I never did that for Hubby," she husked. "He might have liked it."

"Irma never did it for me, either," Arthur rasped, then gave voice to his recent thought process, "Wonder where she got so good at it?"

Stick had had an eyeful -- and an earful, for that matter! Gathering himself, he worked his way back to his parent's room. Mary met him at the door, "Well?"

"You'll never believe it!"

"Good, bad, or indifferent?"

"Good, I think..."

Teddy perked up at this. "What's up?"

Stick shrugged, directing his answer at Mary, since she was the one most concerned. "Pop must've rolled over, sometime. Basically, he's stompin' your Mama's ass for bad-mouthing everybody. I'm guessin', but I think Pop bet her his dick was longer than your Daddy's -- and won -- and now she has to take his dick wherever he feels like sticking it. From the way your Daddy and Teddy's Ma are acting, everybody figures your Mama needs taking down a notch, and Pop's method is gonna do the job. Since she's got that black thing, it's gonna be a real kick in the gut bein' fucked by one..."

"Is Ma safe?" Teddy worried.

"Yeh. She was refereeing. She don't like the violence, but Mary's Mama is bringin' it on herself, trying to welch out of the bet. Pop ain't takin' no shit, an' he's collecting."

"Is it bad?" Mary asked.

"Well, she tried to bite him, so Pop slapped her around some. She seems to have settled down. I guess she said something to your Pop about fucking another guy. Pop is kinda apologetic to him -- but he ain't stopped, and your Pop isn't lifting a finger. I think he's pretty pissed."

"Think we can go look?" Mary asked.

Stick scratched his head. "Hafta be real quiet. This thing is private -- they might stop if they catch us watching. Personally, I think she deserves it." Second thoughts rushed in, and Stick appended, "Sorry."

Mary grimaced. "Me, too."

"Okay. Real quiet, then..."

Irma was trying to cope. Things had gone VERY badly; nothing seemed to work to get Mary shook loose from her two boyfriends -- even the exposure of the fact that they were more than friends... Then she'd let her mouth get ahead of her brain and said a bunch of things she shouldn't have, both to the bastard holding her by the hair while he impaled her on his cock and to her husband... Irma wasn't sure whether her long-term fortunes were going to be any better than the short-term ones -- which were bad enough! 'That black bastard' seemed to fit him better than 'Mr. Williams'; either way, he had an absolutely unprecedented amount of cock and he was busy trying to choke her to death with it!

"Easy!" She lunged back to get some air and to bark a warning. "Killing me isn't in the bargain!" she yelled, fending him off.

"Do a decent fuckin' job, then!" Pop sulked. "Might as well show me them melons, while you're at it..." He reached for her bra.

"That wasn't in the bet, either!" Irma rasped.

"Fine! Your other two holes are! Stand up! I wanna see what I'm getting' into!"

Pop took her by the upper arm, and Irma found herself standing before her legs really got the word to move! Two seconds later, her stretch pants were a puddle on the floor, and her panties were floating down to meet them! "Hey!"

"Hey, nothin'! Three holes you owe me, an' two of 'em are down below! Not that YOU can see either one of 'em!" 'Jeezus! I'm gonna have a helluva time tryin' to stay hard for THIS!' The white bitch was a sow -- thoroughly unappetizing. Well, he bought into this for the lesson she'd learn, not the sex... "Awright, git back down, bitch -- you ain't done suckin'!" A hand in her hair to convince her and she was on her knees again, opening her mouth for his joint. "Work it, Bitch! The sooner you get this one, the sooner we can move on! I thought you was in a fuckin' hurry?" Meanwhile, Pop was merciless about jamming his length at her. He had no expectations of her taking it all -- he'd had that once in his life, from a Eurasian whore who his friends swore could unhinge her jaw -- but he could make her miserable, and that was the point of the exercise. "You go a LOT of nerve, bringin' YOUR fat ass in here and callin' ME and MINE inferior! Jeezus! You ever look in a fuckin' mirror? You be a fuckin' SOW! I couldn't put yo' sorry fat ass on a street corner, buck naked, an' expect the dogs ta sniff ya for enough tips to feed ya dog food, let alone fuck an' make a profit! One look at Mary an' ya know she got problems -- an' ya know the fuckin' SOURCE, too! Where the fuck you come off judgin' other folk is fuckin' beyond my ass!"

Irma couldn't respond to this tirade; even grunting got in the way of taking in air -- something Pop wasn't letting her do a whole lot of! That big, black cock seemed to go on forever, and even when it was gagging her and cutting off her air, there seemed to be a foot of it waiting...

It was also a brutal lesson in reality. Pop might or might not be 'normal', but he was here, and he quite obviously WAS a black Superman... and she was fucked. And she was going to BE fucked, too! It was time to bow to the inevitable... Throwing herself backward at the end of a stroke, she croaked, "Hands!"

"You want your hands? What the fuck for? You ain't in control here!" Pop ranted -- but he gave her a little freedom of movement.

"More! Glurp! Better! Gla!" Irma tried to get an explanation out around Pop's strokes. "Jack! Ogla!"

"Dis mean there's a limit ta how fuckin' stupid ya are, you fuckin' sow?"

"Uhm..." Irma relied more on her eyes than her voice to convey her response.

"Sounds fuckin' risky to me!" Pop argued. "What if you get stupid again? I bet shit won't last -- so what's in it for me?"

She had to offer him something? More? Was he kidding? No, he wasn't kidding, dammit! What else did she have to offer? Oh! Might as well... "Bra!"

"You goin' to give me titties? That's not in the deal!" Pop mimicked her sarcastically.

"New deal! Glurp!" Irma got out.

"It's fuckin' risky!" Pop grunted. "I need a guarantee!" He thought for a moment. "Gotta idea." He pulled his cock from her mouth, then dumped her forward onto her stomach by his ongoing grip on her hair. "Stay fuckin' here, Bitch! Don' go NOWHERE!" Turning to Frieda, he asked, "Sit on her, willya? I gotta go get somethin'."

"Are you going to hurt her?" Frieda asked quietly.

"More'n she asks for? No. But she'll bring enough shit on herself..." Pop whispered back.

"All right." Frieda, dressed in a calf-length skirt, hiked it up and settled herself across Irma's broad back. "I know I'm going to hate myself for this..."

"Wait," Arthur admonished. "The jury is still out."

Irma, flat on her stomach with her arms more or less pinned behind her, had absolutely no shot at rising. "Oof!" She contented herself with getting whole breaths of air, something that Frieda's bulk atop her wasn't much of an improvement over Pop's cock in her mouth for.

Arthur bent to recover his trousers; his piece of this thing was over, for now -- or maybe it wasn't... "Wait!" Frieda held up a hand.

"Huh?"

"It's... been a while since I've seen one, and I'm learning that Hubby wasn't gifted," Frieda's voice was careful, apologetic -- she was asking a favor. "In fact, I've shortchanged Teddy through ignorance -- I apparently know almost nothing about male... equipment. Do you mind?"

"Errrr, guess not..." Arthur shuffled forward. Irma lay on her stomach, wheezing, her head turned to the side so that one eye could take in the sight of another woman fondling her husband's penis -- a blow to her, even if it WAS totally clinical -- something unlikely in this place at this time... Just how replaceable was she, where Arthur was concerned?

Frieda was pretending clinical interest, though. She fingered Arthur's length, murmuring, "This is normal, then?"

"It's in range, I think," Arthur replied. "Mr. Williams seems to agree..."

"I notice that his has a covering..."

"That's a foreskin. I'm circumcised. Teddy is, too, isn't he?"

"Yes..." Frieda was obviously bemused.

"You seem surprised at the variations, for a woman who has had children..."

"I had really only seen Hubby's -- and babies, of course, and some small children's. Hubby was apparently remarkably small..."

"May I ask how small?" Arthur queried.

Frieda thought about it. "Could I see one of your hands?"

"Sure."

Frieda took the offered hand and went through his fingers, testing them by wrapping her fingers around each of them, one by one. Finally, she settled on his ring finger. "About this size."

"Oh." Arthur looked at his ring finger, nonplussed. "Girth?"

"About the same -- a bit thicker, I guess. Not much." She continued to look bemused. "I never really understood the hooraw about sex; now, I'm beginning to understand why..."

"Yeah." What did you say to a woman who had apparently had children but never really experienced any joy from sex? There were a couple of obvious options -- but the fact that Frieda was sitting on his wife left Arthur somewhat inhibited. On the other hand, letting go of his cock didn't seem to be on Teddy's mother's to do list...

The younger generation, having only just arrived at their viewing station just inside the kitchen door, had no shot at retreating before Pop Williams could discover them. Stick got out a hushed, "Oh, shit!" and Pop was standing there, with his hands on his hips.

For a moment, Pop said nothing, obviously turning things over in his head, then he whispered, "Don't let the others catch you!" Turning to Stick, he asked, "Isn't Randy's collar and leash around here somewhere?"

"Yeh." Stick grinned from ear to ear, and dashed off.

Pop turned to Mary. "This looks like shit, I know..."

Mary eyed him, "I notice Poppa isn't doing anything much. Either he's scared, or he's in on it."

Pop blinked. "I hope it ain't 'cause he's scared..." He hemmed and hawed a bit. "Looky here -- this is kind of an attitude adjustment. I got her to promise to back off, but she'll backslide unless she gets a little lesson to go with it, ya know?"

"And Poppa and Ms. Frick?" Mary asked.

"They're mostly bystanders right now. They sorta need to be there, to add to things, but they ain't really in on it."

"Umm, what...?" Teddy asked, eyeing the byplay between his mother and Mary's dad.

Pop took the bull by the horns. "I guess your Mama ain't seen any real dicks, Boy. No offense." Nonetheless, he could see that he'd hurt the kid. "I guess your daddy managed to get the job done, though; some dudes hung like horses cain't pump out a kid..." Teddy merely nodded.

Fortunately, Stick hurtled back into the room, "Here!" In his hand was the choke collar and leash from Stick's childhood pet, a Rottweiler named Randy. Randy had generally been a good dog, but he disliked uniforms and could be uncontrollable around a person wearing one; as a result, they had purchased a choke collar for him with inward-facing tines that dug into the neck. Randy was a couple of years gone, but the collar -- and a leather leash -- were both still around.

"Perfect!" Pop exclaimed. He stood there musing a bit more, then came out with, "It might bring things to a head if y'all show up sometime during the final act -- kinda lay a cherry on top o' thing, ya know?" He was looking at Mary as he said this, trying to detect her reaction.

Mary obviously had reservations. "The guys can," she replied. "It might change things between Momma and I too much..."

Pop nodded sagely, turned, and headed back to the party.

"Awright!" Pop was all business by the time he'd crossed the floor. "We're all set!" He knelt down beside Irma. "Bein' you tend to act like a bitch, it didn't take much thinkin' to realize I can control ya like one!" He fished out the choke collar and adjusted a couple of links, then fastened it around Irma's neck, attaching the leash when he was finished. Irma took this poorly, wide-eyed, puffing, and pink with humiliation and rage -- so angry that she couldn't even talk! Pop recognized the situation, though, and was taking no chances. Looking up at Frieda, he asked, "Y'all wanna haul off that crap around her arms?"

"Uh, frankly, no," Frieda got out. "I think I've already participated more than I want to."

"Suit yourself," Pop replied. He tucked the leash under his foot and circled around to unbutton Irma's blouse cuffs so he could strip the sleeves down her arms and get the thing off. Then, bracing a knee in Irma's back, he undid her bra, too, then stood up. "Awright, y'all can get up."

Irma lurched to her hands and knees and started climbing to her feet, "You bastard! You sonofabitch! This is uncalled for! GAK!"

Pop had snapped the leash, clamping down the collar. "I don't think so. If it acts like a bitch and talks like a bitch, it mus' BE a bitch, I figger! You outweigh me a good bit an' you got a bad temper -- but you wanna use your hands. Well, I need insurance, an' this is it! Y'all can stay on your knees..."

Numb fingers weren't capable of undoing the collar; choking, her neck feeling a dozen points digging into it, Irma settled back onto her haunches. Pop stepped forward and granted some slack to the choke chain, and Irma started gulping in air. "Now, where were we?" Pop asked rhetorically. "Oh, yeah, you was givin' me a throat fuck." He grabbed Irma's chin and swung her around to face him. "Take it in," he directed. "I'm kinda limp after the interruption, but I know y'all can fix that..." Irma, the fight momentarily leached out of her, opened up. "That's a good bitch!" Pop crooned. "Git Pop ready to mount your big fat ass!"

Irma was at a total loss; apparently, she'd made ANOTHER big mistake! Now she was totally naked, wearing a dog collar, sucking the biggest black cock... Worse, there was nothing left to do BUT suck -- or whatever else Mr. Williams (she had no idea what his name was, and characterizing him as 'that black bastard' had apparently gotten her into this mess!) chose to do with her! Thoroughly humiliated and more than a little bit frightened, she looked up into his eyes.

"I see you're startin' to get a sense for how you done fucked up," Pop said conversationally. "You gobble my meat like a good bitch, and I'll tell ya a story." He cupped the back of her head, "Keep goin' deep, I like feeling the back of your throat on the head, there... If ya bring your head down an' stretch out your neck, it's a straighter shot... Awright, work it -- I need ta juice!" Pop shook his head over Irma's breasts, which resembled Mary's only somewhat larger. "You even got tits like a sow. Pitiful." He took a few more strokes, then started a new class in humiliation, "Now, I know you're all het up over bruthuhs datin' fat white bitches. Dis ain't really a situation that can be fixed from the bruthuh's side, actually -- ya see, it's all because fat white bitches is such easy pickin's. An' the reason for THAT is 'cause they is desperate. You with me so far?"

Irma blinked stupidly; something about this whole mess was turning her brain to mush. It seemed like Mr. Williams was telling her how she came to be here -- but it sounded like she'd planned it, or something, rather than the series of stupid mistakes that she remembered making -- well, come to think of it, she DIDN'T remember some of them; things just seemed to go to Hell... He made it sound like interracial sex was all the woman's fault -- was it? Meanwhile, she was sucking, sucking, holding several inches at the base of his cock in one hand and tickling his balls a bit with the other, like Chase used to enjoy... Mr. Williams seemed to want a response, so Irma let out an "Erk!" around her efforts.

"Okay," Pop grunted, "Thought I'd lost ya. You're a right talented cocksucker, Bitch; we startin' ta get somewhere. Where was I? Oh, yeah. Fat white bitches is desperate for two reasons -- know what they are? Okay, I KNOW ya do, but you're busy, so I'll let it out. Fat white bitches is desperate 'cause white dudes don' want any. Dat's reason one. Reason two is jus' about as simple, an' it goes like this: Even when they can FIND dick, chances are it ain't long enough ta scratch their itch! Simple as that! Ta do a fat white bitch, ya gotta get past the fact that all that lard she be wearin' keeps her from bein' limber -- an' it makes the pussy harder ta get to! So ya got to have a coupla extra inches! Over time, the word's gone out that bruthuhs are more likely ta HAVE a couple more inches. Ya with me?"

"Urk!" Why did this line of reasoning seem so reasonable? It HAD to be crap! HAD to be! Right? So why was it pouring in her ears, and her brain was going, 'Okay, that makes sense...' Hypnosis? Anoxia, from having his dick in her throat too much? And why couldn't she seem to be able to look away from the bastard?

Pop, grinning, continued making his case. The silly bitch was putty right now -- she'd taken too many hits and was just reacting. This shit was more fun than the blowjob -- watching her suck the line he was feeding her down with his cock... "Now, I know you be thinkin' 'That bastard be full o' shit!' but let's look at shit happenin' right here, right now! You come here to talk me inta pullin' Stick offa Mary -- why? 'Cause she won't do it herself, that's why! Then there be YOU! YOU squatted your fat ass RIGHT THERE an' embarrassed the shit outta your old man -- dude been payin' yo' bills for fuckin' ever -- that you had other dick an' his ain't long enough! Didn't ya? In front o' witnesses! Man, that's some sorry shit! An' last but not least, what kinda fool bitch makes a bet that if a dude's dick is long enough, she get fucked ever which way but loose? Huh? What kinda bitch does that? A BITCH THAT WANTS A BIG DICK! That's what kinda bitch makes a bet like that!"

Irma was on the ropes! Pop might as well be beating her with a baseball bat! Mentally, she was out for the count -- Pop had pulled the rug out from under her and she had no idea now what her REAL motivations were! Had she set this whole thing up to get laid? No, that didn't make any sense...

Unfortunately, Pop had an answer that DID make sense! "You know why you're here? It's simple! You're JEALOUS! You don' want Mary gettin' dicked while you get ta do without! THAT'S why you come here to fuck shit up! Pure jealousy! Suck on THAT!" Pop tilted Irma's head down a bit to break the eye lock and glanced at Arthur, who was looking seriously unhappy, and grimaced to let him know that it was all bullshit. Problem was, like all good bullshit, there were chunks of truth mixed in -- and they both knew it.

Pop was showing the strain; Irma was really working at the blowjob -- her behavior probably a product of her distraction and helplessness. "I'm gonna shoot, now, Bitch. Close you eyes so you can feel it and know it's comin' -- and swallow every damned drop, or I'll slap the shit outta ya!" He concentrated on things, and three or four strokes later, he began to erupt!

Irma took it on automatic; she'd swallowed semen before, and knew what to expect. If she'd been thinking about it, she might have made a show of choking or something to keep from embarrassing herself or humiliating Arthur further, but she wasn't really doing well with rational thought; Pop had her half-brainwashed -- dazed and confused.

"That's a good bitch... Swallow... Swallow... So, how was dinner?" Irma just looked at him, dazed. "Awright, clean me up an' see if you can git me goin' again. We don't want to wait too long for round two..." A light tug on her leash and Irma kicked into gear again.

Pop looked up; Arthur was standing there, looking seriously troubled. Obviously, the whole thing had been a serious blow to him. Well, he'd get over it, one way or another. Frieda was looking at Arthur's cock, which had withered in her hand to half the size. "It... shrank. Amazing!"

Pop nodded. "Sex is in your head, a lot of it. Arthur, here, has taken some hits today, an' his head ain't in it any more. What he needs, well..."

"What?"

"Cover you ears, Bitch!" Pop roared. Irma did so, without thinking -- the tug on her leash reminded her of her status. Pop put his hands over Irma's and motioned Frieda to him, then said quietly, "His old lady told him he ain't man enough for her -- an' I as much as agreed with her, an' I'm busy doin' shit to her that only he ought to be able to. Understand?"

"Oh." Frieda nodded. "Of course." Hubby was thin-skinned, that way -- with reason, she now understood.

"What he needs is a good piece of ass -- mebbe right in front of Bitch, here -- to, like, validate his machismo, you know?"

Frieda sighed. "I don't have much of a track record where sex is concerned. I could make things worse..."

"Well, you know best. Still, he could use some attention -- an' it'd fuck with the Bitch's head..."

"Um, yes..." Frieda flinched at the four-letter word. He'd been saying it all along, but directed at her, it was somehow more noticeable...

Mary's grimace toward the end of Pop's little speech indicated that she was hearing things that she found unpleasant. "What's the matter?" asked Stick.

"Some of the stuff he's saying..."

"Don't apply to us," Stick insisted. "Tell her, Ted." Teddy nodded agreement.

"But it sounds like thoughts that went through my head a bunch of times," Mary replied. "Worse, in fact -- I wasn't even picky; I went fishing with a net!"

"Might as well have been dynamite, where Ted and I were concerned," Stick grinned. "You had the right bait... Stop worrying about it. What we got don't match that. That's jus' Pop's rap -- he's filling her head with shit so she gets all confused about stuff -- and as long as she's confused, she won't have the guts to mess with us! Got it?"

"What happens if Momma soaks this stuff up?" Mary countered.

"She was messed up before -- she'll just be messed up different, I guess. She pretty much stuck it to your Poppa, I guess -- I think they're gonna split," Stick hazarded.

"Maybe." Mary didn't want to go there. Even when your family is dysfunctional, it's still your family...

"What about your Ma?" Stick asked Teddy.

"I'm amazed," he replied. "Things are kind of scary in there, but she hasn't bailed or freaked or anything..."

"I thought..." Stick glanced at Teddy. "Never mind."

"What?"

"I thought for a minute she was gonna suck his dick..." He nodded at Arthur.

"I saw that," Teddy admitted. "Ma's had more sex in her face in the past day or so than she's had in years. I think maybe it's having an effect on her..."

"Uuh, Dude?" Stick replied diffidently, "I, uh, didn't mention it at the time, because, well, I had a good thing goin'..."

"Stick..." Teddy waited him out.

"Your Mama came back, Man."

"When?"

"Remember all them crazy questions?"

"Yeah..."

"She was listening. She was watching, too."

"No way!"

"Way! I think she wanted to get a whole lot closer, too!"

"Boys?" Mary was mystified.

"I was giving Stick a blowjob. Ma walked in on us," Teddy explained. "She said it was okay, and she left -- except now Stick says..."

"I swear, Man!"

"What's it all mean?" Teddy shook his head.

"Well, if your Daddy was as small as we think he was, regular sized dicks are probly a surprise..." Stick guessed.

"Yeah." Teddy nodded. "Monsters like your Pop's are probably even MORE surprising!"

"That's it!" Mary interjected. "She was looking at Poppa's, up close! Stick's was probably a surprise..."

"Yeh. She kinda just stood there, with her eyes all big..." Stick grinned.

"Now, she's seen a couple more -- all bigger than she's used to..."

Stick chuckled. "I bet your Ma does some heavy thinkin' in the next few days, Dude!"