The only clothing I wore was two narrow stripsof fabric that hung from a belt of golden chain like a crotch-lessloincloth, the fine sheer cloth displa...ed more than it covered. I alsowore a great deal of gold jewelry. All over my body gold jingled,although I could only find piercings on my ears and bare belly button.my large tits hung free and jiggled with each step and the cool breezedanced on my naked crotch. I looked like some primitive priestess orqueen. I paced the room not even noticing. Betty was just eighteen and Veronica was a ripe old nineteen year old with dreams of stardom in her brain and an itch between her legs that had her humming “Girls Just Wanna have Fun” endlessly like it was some sort of ritual for her to spread her legs and smile for the camera.In point of fact, Betty was still an anal virgin while Veronica had all sorts of adventures in sodomy that tied in with her attempts to break into the porn industry the old fashioned way with her ass up high and her face. And a three-hour bath. To unsee some of the Fowler images that my mind projected across the screen.The Sullivans had found three deranged video clips on Fowler’s laptop. From his time in Iraq. Example:Shaky camera, dimly lit, dusty room. Terrified mother and father, one son, one daughter. Civilians. A voice behind the camera boomed, “ES is in the house!”Fowler, in uniform, six-inch shears clicking rapidly in his right hand, strolled casually to each of the cowering family members. Severed eight. Slightly detached news stories that only told half the story. Told whatever the government deemed necessary. There was some tense cold war going on between world superpowers, and it eventually erupted. Things did change, but they were subtle, small. Certain products slowly disappeared off the shelves of shops. Certain TV shows stopped. New movies and games stopped being regularly released. It always seemed so gradual, and I was young. In teenage years I’d turn around and wonder why something.
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