When I posted this chapter on the ASN Story Board (this would be about the year 2000) it freaked out some readers. Maybe I escalated things too quickly. ============================================================== February 4. ​ Today I was invited by Dean Jorgon to accompany him and Anthony Noyes to visit Miss Smithers. I met Noyes only recently in connection with this committee and already I don’t like him. He is overbearing and loud. Also, he doesn’t like it w

February 24 They know today Mom is going to do the Reading, so the kids don’t dilly-dally as they get dressed. Though Abigail unwisely tried to button her blouse herself, ending up short on top. Ethel, the collection envelope in her teeth, kneels down to redo it. It takes some time; there are twelve buttons. “You’ve got some syrup on your butt, Honey,” Mark says. She goes back to the kitchen to clean it off. It happened when Rebecca bumped into he

Not that he was unsupportive of Marikit’s church. These folks acted like they had met Kai-Kai many times and were paying a frequent courtesy call; maybe they visited during every Lab draining. And he helped the church out a lot by being the cook at their annual pancake breakfast, held on a Saturday. It was a huge fundraiser for them, since everyone knew what a good cook he was. Angela had gone last year -- held outdoors because it was a fine day -- and discovered why his panc

It was a little plastic statuette he had bought at some flea market. A sideways naked white woman with outrageously huge breasts hanging down in perfect half-globes ending in little red-painted nipples. Arms extended forward, wearing a mask and kick-ass high-heeled boots, long blond hair whipping over her, ending over her trim bare butt. Underneath, holding the naked lady up on top of the little pedestal, the Stars and Bars and the words, “NakedGirl: Pride of the South”.

These activities had no sexual component so they were easier to watch than the forced-orgasm exhibition the first time they were here. On that date the delegation had already endured watching Tami, suspended and stretched out with ropes, subjected to the matrons’ tongues, front and rear. They were glad to yield their seats to some arriving Americans and sit back here in the stands, where they discussed their options. They were about to leave when the matrons withdrew from

Once again, she initiated the conversation, with a courtesy. “Good morning, Mr. Zhu.” As she stood respectfully before me I noticed that one of her cold-stiffened nipples was marked with what looked like ketchup. With so many American visitors the crudities of the American diet here are an unavoidable presence. She also smelled vaguely of stale hamburger. “I just have a few more questions. . . Do you take out the garbage every day?” “Yes. Also I sweep the floors at nig