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Brother Owen rises next to me. Our garments fall away as we stand at the edge of the dais. The aunties come up behind us and sweep the robes aside. I feel a hand snake over my hips and reach around to grasp my member, but I don't look down. I don’t need to see.
I'm looking at Gina. Her eyes widen with shock as she sees a man before her for the very first time. Brother Owen and I, exposed to this new woman. The two of us, facing forward, naked and erect, the first sight of this significance she's probably ever seen in her life.
Her pale, slender hands flutter to cover the lower half of her face as she stifles a gasp. Still, I can hear it. It's a small, animal noise. A mixture of shock, excitement and fear. It's a humble noise, for her.
I see the aunties glance sidelong at each other, silently congratulating each other that their plan is working. Gina is entering a new phase of life, one in which her arrogance, her impetuous bravado is unnecessary. She will learn humility. She will learn respect.
She’s going to start right now.
I barely feel the auntie’s fingers on my member, yet my body responds just the way it's supposed to. Vaguely I know she's drawn me to full erection. I almost see it reflected in Gina's eyes. She looks between me and Owen repeatedly, undoubtedly wondering what is about to happen.
I am also wondering. And from Owen's ragged breaths, I'm sure he is also wondering.
“What is… what are —” Gina begins to speak, her voice high-pitched and trembling.
“Quiet, girl,” one of the aunties hisses. She sidesteps, leaning down and snatching the hem of the back panel of Gina’s dress in one hand. With a practiced, twisting motion, she spirals the fabric into a thick rope, drawing it up to expose the long, taut lines of her backside.
The other auntie steps close to her from the other side, taking her left arm by the elbow and pushing it backward. Gina's jaw goes slack and she tries to pivot to see what they're doing. They hold her fast, quickly immobilizing her elbows behind her with the twisted fabric of her gown.
“Walk forward,” one of the women says.
“Wait… I thought we were — I mean, why are we —”
“Quiet, girl!”
To her credit, she immediately drops her eyes. Poor thing. She doesn't know. She will feel so much better shortly. But right now, all this unfamiliarity must be overwhelming for her.
A different auntie tips her head toward Gina's ear and buries her lips against her neck. I watch her cheeks move as she whispers something for long seconds, some womanly wisdom that works to soothe her fears. When she's done, Gina nods. Not emphatically, but enough. She understands.
We all understand, even if we don't know it yet.
That's the true purpose of this ceremony: to take us back to our purest knowledge. Before words, before lies in society. The truth is that God created the perfect, wordless animals. They knew without needing to be told. We only suffer because we are arrogant. It's only through humility that we become reunified with the holiness within us.
I hope that's what the auntie told her. That this ceremony will reunite her with her holiness. I hope that she understands. And I think she might. The way she's looking at me now is much steadier. Less like a spring lamb terrified, before the blade. More knowing.
She comes forward in three scuffling steps. She mounts the stairs and stands between us. The aunties take our shoulders then, moving our bodies so that Owen and I face her.
“Look at Father Daddy,” the voice behind me says. Gina pivots, lifting her chin toward me and blinking her big, brown eyes. Half-scared, but maybe… half-excited?
“That's good,” I tell her. I'm not supposed to speak but I want her to know she's doing well.
“Now look at Brother Owen,” comes the other auntie’s voice.
With far less hesitation, Gina pivots one hundred and eighty degrees to look at Owen. His chest is heaving, his cock rigid and glistening. He's staring quite intensely at her and I sense her stiffening, resorting to her natural arrogance.
“On your knees,” the other auntie tells her. She could sense it too. Gina’s attitude has to be made pliant. She has to be remolded. That's why it has to be this way. That's why we have to do what we’re doing.
“On my knees?”
“No more questions,” I tell her. She needs that. She needs a man's voice to guide her.
She drops to her knees, the sound dull but still distinct enough. I hear it like another step has been taken toward her new self. That hard texture against her soft flesh. The marks she’ll have for the next few days to remind her of her transformation.
“Open your mouth,” an auntie says. “And signal your willingness.”
I'm sure she does it, because Owen narrows his eyes at her, sucking his lips between his teeth. He leans forward.
I don't see it. I only watch the top of her head. She leans back and raises her eyes to meet mine. I'm standing behind her as she tips her head back, opening her mouth to take Brother Owen in that first, sweet breach. The first time a man has invaded her borders. The first time her outline has been crossed by our secret, holy flesh.
