Gynophagia Chronicles: Samantha
Wednesday, September 9, 2218 5:30 AM
The Wells Home, 1110 Beagle St. San Ramon CA.
From Samantha Marie Wells’ Memoirs
I was exhausted but very pleased with myself. The forty odd questions I’d composed for Ambassador Mugoli had turned into nearly one hundred not counting follow ups. It had taken a total of two and a half hours to complete, and was done by 4:30 AM. It had, of course, been the only time he could give me as he’d just arrived back in the States from New Delhi on Tuesday, and he was still on their time. But his mood was chipper and it was a pleasant conversation either in spite of or because of his rapid fire way of talking (which seems common to Indians in my experience).
I’d composed all my questions after Church on Sunday when I realized that the election would be over in the U.S. and decided by the time the interview went to print. That was harrowing, having to re-compose my thought process to deal with a reality I couldn’t know. I mainly stuck to questions involving U.S.-Indian relations and Mugoli’s strategy with dealing with President Davis. It’s fortunate that there was no change in leadership in India… for me, that is. But the conversation opened my eyes in a lot of ways to the world around me. It was my first conversation with a foreign born man.
So here I was, an hour after hanging up the phone, and excitedly editing (I thought it was my job, so sue me!) when Mom and Daddy strolled in.
“I can’t believe it,” Daddy was shaking his blonde head. “How could she ask that?”
“I don’t blame her, actually,” Mom was saying. “She believes in her cause and expects those of us who are her friends to support her. It’s that simple.”
“Well, you can’t do it,” Daddy said.
“I know.”
“Just because you’re bi and she knows it doesn’t give her the right to ask you to be her side dish. And I wish you hadn’t told her you wanted to be done by thanksgiving.”
“Oh My God!” Mom jumped when she finally looked upon me.
“Sam!” Daddy said. “What are you doing here?”
“I live here,” I said… I did actually say it. I thought myself rather clever for saying it, and I almost smiled at myself.
Mom had her hand on her chest and was catching her breath, and Daddy gathered her into his arms and was holding her. She never did do well with nasty surprises. At length, Mom slid out of Daddy’s embrace and headed for the main bathroom.
“Jesus, Sam,” Daddy folded his arms. “What are you doing up?”
“I had to call the Indian Embassy,” I said. “I told you. Mom knew.”
“Right,” Daddy acknowledged, though not approvingly. “You weren’t meant to hear that conversation. I expect you’ll keep it to yourself till your mother is ready to talk about it.”
“Yes, Daddy,” I said as he ignored me and followed his wife into the bathroom.
I poured myself some more coffee, and was absolutely unable to focus on my work. Instead I listened, but heard only the water running. Ten minutes later, I heard Daddy make his way upstairs and Mom re-appeared.
“Mrs. Khan and I are going shopping today,” Mom said as she started breakfast. “She wants to buy gifts for her friends back home.”
“You’re becoming good friends,” I observed.
“She also wants us at Ashima’s wedding along with Jenna and Gracie,” Mom added. “It’s Sunday.”
“Really?” I asked. “I mean, she barely knows us.”
“She adores Gracie, and Jenna makes her laugh and she thinks the world of you. We’re her only friends in California.”
“Oh,” I said. “So nobody from India is coming?”
“Oh, they’re coming,” Mom said. “But Ashima selected a wedding outfitter that is a bit risqué for Indian sensibilities. She’s very cute, that way. Very conservative. She’s also deathly afraid to ask the women in her family to be in her entourage…”
“And she wants us?” I asked, not quite understanding what that speech meant. No matter. Mom would not get a “no” from me.
“She wants us,” Mom declared just as alarms were going off upstairs and for the first time I realized Jenna's daily morning groan was audible all the way down here.
The bustle of that morning was as any other.
At School, Andrea Yates made good on her campaign promises. Flyers were posted all over school on the new uniform and bathing suit issue. Both would be voted on next week in the Student Council.
She’d also made up a list with the header : “Stupid People are Saying…” that so’n’so is gay or whatever, or, “If you hear this…” report the liar to the student council. Interestingly enough, it worked quite well. Go Andrea!
In PE we were introduced to a brand new swim coach named Jane Bettencourt. Miss Bettencourt turned out to have been an Olympic Swimmer at the last games. With one percent body fat and a body that was hard as a rock I didn’t doubt it at all.
Miss Bettencourt’s arrival put Miss Bauer in a horrible mood. I got the gist of their dislike for each other as I as on my way back to the showers I overheard Miss Bettencourt talking to a custodian: “When Pat went to bat for the students on the naked swimming thing, I really thought I'd like her... but she's such a bitch to me! What did I ever do to her?”
Instead she took it out on her favourite target: the Lunch Ladies. The immigrant, mostly Vietnamese cook staff and Miss Bauer would go at it about once every two weeks over some issue or other. Notwithstanding that the food they prepared for the girls was nigh inedible. They were there primarily to cook for the boys, who were served real meat twice a week. Miss Bauer took umbrage at their inability to make a vegetarian dish that could be choked down. The exchange was very loud. Imagine a Buff Germanic looking Frau engaged in a heated argument with a tiny South East Asian woman. Exactly! The ferocity of the cook staff was legendary, and Miss Bauer backed off every time. I sat and ate an apple and endured the show.
The rest of the day I was mostly preoccupied with the Jakim Golguli interview. His man had been very professional on the phone and just enthusiastic enough to give me hope for a smooth job. I had it scheduled for Thursday at 8 PM.
Homework would be my biggest problem. Miss Masters had piled it on this week, and I doubted I’d have time to breath before Sunday… and that was the wedding… But I was truly determined to get it all done if it killed me…
Then, to top it all off: my brothers caught up with me at four!
“We need your help,” Jimmy said as he fell into step beside me.
I sighed… when Jimmy asked for help, it was never a good thing.
“What is it now?”
“Okay,” Eric flanked me. “You know the project I’m working on?”
“No,” I said. “I know you’ve occupied the garage and evicted the Van from it. But I couldn’t be less interested in what you’re doing.” Which was true, I wasn’t.
“Bear with me,” Eric said.
“You’ll love it!” Jimmy said.
“I doubt that!”
“Okay, Jenna!” Jimmy said accusingly.
“Shut up!” I hit him in the shoulder. As true as the accusation was, I still resented it.
“Anyway,” Jimmy continued. “Did you know Mom is deciding whether or not she’ll cook for Thanksgiving?”
That woke me up. “Maybe.”
“Good!” Eric said. “We want her to be as comfortable as possible. Right?”
“Yeees…”
“So,” Jimmy continued. “Eric built a cradle for that exact purpose.”
I closed my eyes. It wasn’t something I wanted to think about at all.
“Actually,” Eric said. “Jimmy conceived it. He did about fifty drawings before I started building the thing…”
“Right,” I said. “Good for both of you.”
“So,” Jimmy said. “What we need most of all is someone about Mom’s size us how well it fits. She’d need to be on the thing for about an hour.”
“And you’re exactly Mom’s size,” Eric said.
“Oh,” I said. This was exactly the kind of thing I could not afford, taking on some cockamamie project my indefatigable brothers cooked up. “Look, guys, I have a lot of reading to do, and my homework is piled up…”
“WE thought of that,” Jimmy said. “We’ll read anything you need read to you!”
“Yeah!” Said Eric enthusiastically. “You’ll absorb it better that way.”
“Guys,” I said. “Please, can’t you ask someone else?”
“Dad said you’d be perfect.”
“Right,” I said. “I’m so sure he said exactly that.”
“He did!” Jimmy said.
“If he said it, I’ll do it… but…”
“You are the greatest, Sam!” Eric said with that huge goofy grin as we arrived home.
Jimmy, never shy about giving affection, kissed my cheek, and the two ran into the house like a pair of ten year olds racing to an open video game console.
I hate my life, I thought.
Inside, I found Ashima, Fatima and my mother at the dining room table.
“You cannot be serious, Mother!” Ashima was saying. “Aunt Pooja will be very insulted.”
“She will be far more insulted if I ask her to walk so naked with me, my love,” said Fatima. “We cannot expect her to do so having just arrived. And she would object to your cousins doing so. She might shun us for it.”
“Mother,” Ashima said. “If we were kin Kolkata they would expect our American friends to conform to our standards. It is not so terrible a thing to ask them to conform to what is normal in California.”
“Oh?” said Fatima. “You tell that to our family when they see naked pictures of you and me at your wedding in Kolkata. This may be California, but I assure you, what we do here will be viewed there as obscene. I am willing to accept this for your sake, but I will not force it on our family. You do not select my entourage, it is my right, and I have selected my good friend Jessica and her girls.”
Mom sat there looking ashen.
“And you are being very rude to bring this up in front of my friend,” Fatima added, taking Mom’s hand. “You will apologize to Jessica this instant.”
I left the room for the kitchen feeling very much like an intruder, poured myself some juice and started on my homework. By the time I was halfway through my first essay, I’d heard the door slam (obviously Ashima storming out) just before Fatima and my mother arrived in the kitchen.
“I swear, that girl will be the death of me,” Fatima was saying.
“I wish there were something I could do to resolve this,” Mom said. “I hate it that I’ve come between you.”
“It is not you, Jessica,” Fatima said. “It is Ashima’s desire to force change onto a culture that is over five thousand years old. You cannot force change on anyone. I’ve learned that much. And even less so on family. I am very nervous about what will be said at home over this wedding, but I am willing to live with it. My husband will deny Ashima nothing, so he will not argue in my favour, though he will be perturbed. Having you and your girls at my side is the best compromise. If Ashima cannot see this, she is a fool.”
“Still,” Mom said.
“Jessica,” Fatima said. “You are standing by me, and that is the greatest gift you can give to me.”
“I’m happy to help,” Mom said. “I just wish…”
“I know my daughter,” Fatima said. “She will accept her mother’s wishes, Jessica. You will see.”
I had a quizzical look on my face my mother saw. She mouthed: “Ask later.”
The two women left me to work on my homework, and soon Ashima was back, apologizing emphatically to my mother and hers alike.
Shortly, she arrived in the kitchen and handed me a check.
“This is for you,” Ashima said without so much as a ‘hello.’
My jaw dropped at the amount: €750.00. It was considerably more than promised.
“We asked for a few questions,” said Ashima as she took a seat opposite me. “You gave us a complete interview. Mr. Foss was so delighted with the work, he wants me to open the magazine offices in Kolkata this coming week.”
“Really?” I asked. “This interview got you your magazine?”
“Well,” Ashima said. “Among other things, of course. It was the final piece in a very large puzzle. But it is done, and we must move on. How soon can you be ready for me to schedule the interview with Jakim Golguli?”
“I’m talking to him tomorrow night?”
“I don’t know that I can get him that soon,” said Ashima.
“Oh,” I said. “I don’t understand. Was I not supposed to schedule it myself?”
“No,” Ashima said. “You were not. Do not tell me you have already been in contact…”
“I have,” I said. “Tomorrow night, eight o’clock.”
“I see,” said Ashima with a bit of a vexed look. “Well, it is done. So be it. But be careful to clear these things with me first, Samantha. I would rather know when things are happening. But, no matter. It is done,” she sighed. “I am rehearsing my wedding ceremony tomorrow and shall not see you, so good luck.”
“Thank you, Ashima,” I said. “You too.”
Ashima smiled then and left me, collected her mother, and left the house.
By the time Jenna and Gracie arrived home, about six, Mom gathered us into the kitchen to spell it out for us.
“Mrs. Khan thinks the world of you girls,” Mom was saying. “And since Ashima selected an outfitter who would be considered risqué back home, she wants us to be her entourage rather than her sister-in-law and her girls.”
“If I was ever accused of cackling like a hen on too much caffeine… this would be the day I was guilty. Suffice it to say, we were all very excited about being in the wedding, especially since it was Jake Tucker’s, and we all admired the man greatly. We were so distracted we almost forgot to order the pizza.
Daddy was home shortly before seven and, after having checked on Eric and Jimmy, came to see me.
“Your brothers asked you to test their cradle then?” Daddy asked.
I was just about floored when he brought it up. I seriously thought Eric and Jimmy were bluffing when they’d told me Daddy knew all about it. Obligatorily, I answered: “Yes, Daddy.”
“Good, I’m glad everything is okay,” he added.
No, Daddy, okay is not the word I’d use, but I’ll do it for you… I didn’t say that, but I sure wish I had.
“Yes, Daddy,” I said.
“Good girl,” he said with a huge goofy smile he’d bestowed upon Eric. “Thank you so much, Sam. Make sure you’re clear with them on what they need to know, okay? Not that you wouldn’t be, but just, be slow and methodical. You can talk very fast sometimes…”
“Yes, Daddy.”
He hugged me. “That’s my girl!”
As he turned to leave, he said: “You might want to shower before the others get in the way. You don’t want to be dirty on the cradle.”
Shower?
“Yes, Daddy,” I said.
And so I showered. I luxuriated in the shower, taking care not to waste the hot water. That’s not easy to do when you have a ten second timer on the shower head. I probably hit it a dozen times before I was done. But I spent a considerable amount of time… or wasted a considerable amount of time (depending on who you ask) in the bathroom that evening. Danielle had given me a good education on hair care that I’d actually paid attention to, so I smothered it with conditioner before I left, and coated my skin with oil. I should have asked for Danielle’s help long before. She, first among my sisters, had Mom’s organized mind.
I put on a tee and cotton shorts after drying off, then braided my hair, just as Danielle had taught me. My lack of sleep the night before was catching up, which is probably why I lost track of time, and almost missed out on pizza.
“Ready?” Eric finally asked out of earshot of my sisters.
I nodded, and he led me to the Garage door with Jimmy tagging along behind me.
“Hang on!” I said suddenly, and ran back to grab my notes and a paper pad for whichever of them to write on. (They would NOT be touching my PDA!)
Carefully I showed them exactly what I needed, and Jimmy rolled his eyes.
“Pay attention!” I protested. “This is important!”
It was after eight when we finally made it into the garage.
My knees buckled when I saw it.
I will say this; it was elegantly crafted work of monstrous stainless steel beauty. It had a headrest that was padded with finely woven heat resistant cloth over asbestos. The back rest supported only the shoulder blades and that place just below the tender loin, then another rest behind the knees and stirrups that held the feet in place. All these were adjustable.
My butt would be hanging free except for one item… well, two: an anal probe that was integral to the main body of the surreally carved metal and a working phallus that could be withdrawn.
Eric caught me before I hit the floor.
“I can… I can… I can’t…” I stuttered. My body was already responding to the idea of it with wanton anticipation.
“Sam,” Jimmy said. “It’s okay! We’re not going to hurt you!”
I couldn’t look away from the thing. It was secured to rails that were bolted to a heavy sheet of plywood.
“Sam,” Eric whispered. “You promised Dad!”
I remember I was hyperventilating. The discomfort of sitting on my wet shorts, wet because I was sweating and shivering at the same time. Jimmy held me there on a chair while Eric gathered up the papers that were scattered all over the floor. It took a bit for me to understand those were my papers and I’d dropped them.
“What are we going to do?” Jimmy asked.
Eric was fuming, looking ready to explode. His tall body paced back and forth between the work bench and the scattered paper he was in the process of collecting.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe Jenna will do it.”
“Right,” Jimmy said with sarcasm.
“Right,” Eric acknowledged. “What about Gracie?”
“Eric,” Jimmy said. “If Sammie’s this scared, Gracie will freak! I’ve never seen Sam this scared.”
“Not like this,” Eric said. He knelt front of me. “Sammie,” he said. “Hey baby girl…”
I was coherent enough to give him a dirty look.
“I can’t force you,” Eric said. “But you did make Dad a promise. He’s going to be disappointed.”
Daddy would be, too. Especially since I always managed to do whatever he asked of me. I don’t remember thinking this at the time, but ever since my brothers’ cradle always made me think of keeping promises and my own mortality (in a very sexual way, I might add). No other thing does that to me.
“What about Andrea?” Jimmy was asking.
“No girlfriends,” Eric said. “She might, but Dad said don’t use any girlfriends.”
“So she IS your girlfriend,” I said.
Jimmy laughed at that, and so did I.
“Sam,” Eric said. “You okay, then?”
I nodded, the sensation of my wet cheeks informing me I’d been weeping. I wiped away my tears with my palms.
BAM! BAM! BAM! Went the door behind us.
“What’s going on in there?” It was Jenna.
“Nothing!” we all chorused.
“Is Sam in there?”
“Yes, Jenna,” I answered.
“You okay?”
“Yes, Jenna!”
“I heard crying!”
“I’m okay, sweetie!”
Pause.
“Well... Okay,” came the suspicious reply. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”
“Close,” said Jimmy.
“She sounded just like Mom there for a minute,” said Eric. I heard that too.
I looked back at the thing. It was still monstrous. But I wasn’t going to disappoint Daddy, no way, no how.
“Can I at least keep my t-shirt on?” The boys looked at each other, then back to me and nodded.
The thing rolled on its rails to the edge of the plywood, then tilted till it was almost upright. It was like an entity, there with the erect and greased anal probe waiting for me to sit upon it. That almost caused another panic attack in me. Standing on the stirrups, we went through too many false starts to count, so many adjustments had to be made.
Finally, let my body slide back, the knee-rests forcing me into a sitting position that put the probe right where it was supposed to be. I focused and relaxed as the thing slid into me, stretching me forcibly. It was not painful, simply very, very intense. It was the first time such a thing had ever invaded my body other than my mother’s thermometer.
A couple more adjustments of the loin, shoulder and head-rests and I was strapped down, and tilted back. I was on my back with my knees even with my ears in the sitting position. My back was angled up so that my hips were low. It was quite similar to sitting in Daddy’s Lazy-Boy, but also a lot like being on the table spread eagle for a gynaecologist. Boys, trust me!
“How does it feel?” Jimmy asked. “Any pain?”
No, there was not. The shoulder rests needed adjusting again, however... by the end we determined they needed re-designing. But that was not bad. My weight was largely on the loin rest and the probe.
I was sweating even more, and my only garment, my t-shirt, was soaked through. I almost regretted leaving it on.
“You ready for the phallus?” Eric finally asked.
“No,” I said. “Where did you get that hideous thing?”
Eric shrugged. “Dad got it. I think he said it was a hot-tub accessory.”
“So is he finally going to get Mom her hot tub?” I asked, and gasped as the thing touched my nethers.
“I think so,” Eric was saying, easing the thing in. It glided on whatever grease the boys had used plus my own natural juice. I couldn’t have been more humiliated than I was at this very moment. Then I felt it. It pressed against my hymen and something tore, and it hurt. And it was too late for me to protest.
“What’s wrong?” Jimmy was asking Eric.
Yes, I’m from California, and yes, I was, till that moment, a virgin. But not any more. The mixed sensations of tearing and pleasure were too difficult to describe or distinguish. I know that I was climaxing in front of them because the look on their faces was one of perfect astonishment. My body convulsed involuntarily with each orgasm. I'd never had an orgasm that intense before. Every part of my body tingled, and the pain of my torn hymen lessened with those sensations. But as they subsided, the I became more aware of the pain.
Then the boys noticed the blood.
They couldn’t get me loose fast enough. Jimmy even surrendered his shirt to soak up the blood. I hurt, and I cried. Eric finally picked me up and carried me upstairs as all my sisters were shouting and causing commotion…
The last thing I remember was Celine mopping my skin with a cool damp cloth. Then I lost consciousness and knew nothing else that day…