The Jean-Bromide family's mother/daughter pole-dance

Broomi grabbed both hands onto the pole with intent, sticking her tongue up out past her upper lip with a silly but determined expression, then paused. "Oh right. My rules," she sighed, removing her hands from the pole. Rather than give Clara time to take vengeance for her ruined garment from earlier, Broomi handled the disrobing herself, yanking first her habit up and off over her head, then the under-robe. When she was finished, she was left with a very plain white bra and panties set, with simple, round black buttons. It was the kind of outfit that just screamed "PEASANT!" and it didn't do much to flatter her lack of womanly curves either. Broomi clutched both hands to her small breasts with raging envy, as she shot her eyes over towards Clara.

"Oh, Broomi," her mother gasped. "They have the most wonderful things at the market now! You know? Since they started putting out those manuals, the salesmen have come up with the niftiest invention!" Bonnie pressed one hand to her cheek, while keeping her elbow circled around the pole. "What did they call them...? Breast pads!"

"If it's a strip show, then it doesn't make sense to use breast pads..." Broomi complained, knowing full well that breast pads weren't a recent invention, they were just only recently considered decent to sell in public. "Okay, Miss Fauxbright, pay attention. You have to kind of jump," the counselor insisted, wondering if the priestess had ever jumped once in her pampered life. "When you've jumped, you hook the legs. It's just like getting leverage for climbing a tree. Then, you have to nudge your way up fast..." she explained, clutching her slender legs around the circumference of the pole and snaking her way up. Anyone capable of seeing her through that illusion could certainly be aroused by her limber movement and her disregard for her own modesty, if her doubly attractive mother wasn't hanging out higher up on the pole.

Speaking of which, Miss Jean-Bromide realized that the two of them might run out of room. Spinning around to a vertical base, she slid her way up higher; her daughter tried not to stare at the underside of her mom's panties, which felt especially lewd for some reason. "Don't worry, Broomi! I've made room!" she encouraged her daughter. "Isn't this fun? We never do things together!"

"Mom, why don't you pick up cards or checkers?" Broomi retorted. "Knitting? Geod-dammit, if you want to pick up home burglary, I'd rather see you doing that than this!"

"Aw, Broomi... Don't be so pouty! It will be fun! See? We're both naturals!"Bonnie tittered.

Broomi felt like she was going to go mad. In what world did it make sense for her mom to be a natural pole-dancer?! "Sure... Okay... Now, once we're near the top, we hold on with our legs and unhook our bras-"

"Do we need to do that part?" Bonnie called down, now growing red-faced again.

"Moooom, make up your mind! Are you a sexy pole-dancer or a mother?!" Broomi reprimanded her, feeling like the pendulum swing between concerned parent and giggling dance partner was becoming unbearable. "Yes, we have to do that part! Clara needs to see what to do! Oh, and if at any point she thinks it's ridiculous for you or her to be flashing your tits, then she can feel free to pitch in!" Broomi reminded them both pointedly, hoping their sense would take over. At this point, she was very much like the independent child who fears their parent taking an interest in their hobbies, only to a greater extent of fear than normal.

"O-Okay... It's coming off, Sweetie!" Bonnie informed her. Suddenly, a cute green bra was dropped onto Broomi's face. "Whoops! Mom's sorry! Don't fall!"

"Bwah! Mooom!" Broomi complained loudly, swinging on her legs. She'd already unbuttoned her bra as well, so that fell down uselessly away from her breasts. Her own, small, freckled, and peaked, were revealed, while just upstairs, her mom's lewd, swinging bosom was on display. They were shaped like a mature woman's breasts, of course, but that wouldn't stop every man in town from wanting to look at them... Broomi found herself staring as well, once the bra was torn off her face... "Oh Geod..."

She also wasn't the only one staring. The neighbors on both sides had finally begun to react, coming to their windows as they heard crazy shouting coming from the Jean-Bromide household. When they looked down, they saw an illusion... Clara, Broomi, and Bonnie, all standing around with their hands gripped to a hoe and shouting like maniacs. "What the freckled feck are they up to out there?" a gray-haired old man commented in the privacy of his home, adjusting his pipe and going to fetch a telescope from his navy days so he could see more clearly.

There wouldn't be much for him to see, unfortunately. Well... not yet.

Clara lowered her eyebrows. "This is... comedy, yes? I have to admit, I prefer to go to the theater for dramas..." she remarked absently, wondering if this slapstick routine was any better than her failed performance earlier had been.