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Sitting on the futon in the living room, you play Pokémon: Heart Gold in a Gorillaz' Demon Days t-shirt with jean shorts. It's the beginning of May, and you wished that the rain would have continued for a little while longer, as you are dreading your summer of—most likely—doing nothing. And the heat was always a drag, too, as you ruined many of your shirts from permanently sweat-staining them, since your wild cherry scented Suave deodorant—which supposedly had 24-hour protection, by the way—never worked as it should have during a hot and gross day.
"Hey, little lady. Want to go swimsuit shopping?"
Looking up towards her, you shrug as you stand up from the couch and shove your green Gameboy into your back right pocket. "Let's go," you say, and you slip on your black flip-flops sitting in front of the door. Your sister slides her pointed shades from her hair, and they land on her slightly large nose. Pulling her keys out of her front left pocket from her cargo shorts, she opened the door leading out of the apartment and locked it from the outside, closing it after you stepped out from behind her. Looking to the stairs, you make sure not to trip over your nearly towering sister in front of you.
Her bleached blonde hair was in a half ponytail, half bun that rested against the back of her head with support from a large, brown clip. There were strands of hair that stuck out in every direction that were excluded from the clip and bounced with each step that was taken. She wore a black wife beater, and you couldn't help but notice her cleavage and the orange bra strap that peeked out from underneath dark cloth and rested on her shoulder. Stretching her arms over her head, dark armpit hair was visible. Others would call it disgusting and strange, but she had told you at a young age that "Women like me aren't interested in pleasing a man." Yet, she did help you shave once you noticed that every girl in your gym class had perfectly smooth legs, armpits, and sometimes even arms.
Swaying her bare arms as she walked out to the black truck she owned, a pink, red, and white beaded bracelet that read "SIS" hung slack from her right wrist. You had made that for her a long time ago when you were a lot smaller as a Valentine's day gift, and it was embarrassing to you that she still wore it. Her beige cargo shorts were a bit loose on her, despite her wide hips and thick thighs, but she always liked baggier clothing. Since she has her own male persona online for the website she runs, she cross-dresses often. Once in a while, you see her leave the house with a flat, bound chest and bottom, yet the outfit for those occasions remain the same each time; a white polo shirt and black slacks. She also does something with her hair which involves putting it in a ponytail and concealing her locks in a cap so that her hair length looks much shorter than it typically is.
Often, you stand in the nude in front of your mirror that hangs on the back of your door after taking a shower and compare yourself to your older sister. You grab your breasts and push them up or together to make it look like you have cleavage, and wish that they were as sizeable as your sister's; you've seen the way both men and women have looked at her when she's wearing a revealing shirt in public, and you suppose that's why she likes to hide her breasts under a tight binding device. Then, you look behind you, and you seem as flat as your sister when she tapes her bottom down. Taking a good look at yourself in a profile view, you can easily confirm that you would most certainly look like a boy if you didn't dress like a girl. Even your haircut was short like a boy's, but nobody ever questioned your gender, as the way you dressed made it clear you were female. Narrow hips contributed to your boyish figure, and you thought about your sister's broad ones which made her look feminine and beautiful, and caused her legs to have triangle-shaped gaps between her thighs, even if they were thicker than the average woman's.
Double-knotted skateboarding shoes—now grey from dirt—tread the ground towards the sleek vehicle and stop once they reach the left door. You walk all the way around the back and stand next to the right door. Your sister unlocks her door first, and puts her seatbelt on. Whining and moving in place, she sighs at you and then unlocks the right door, causing you to quickly pull open the door and plop into the passenger's seat. With a click, your seatbelt is strapped onto your person, and you can't help but notice how her breasts bulge past the part of the belt that wasn't already pushed away by her bust. She glances your way, and then puts her keys with a bright orange smuppet keychain on them in the ignition. You have no idea where she has gotten all of those keys and key cards from, and as your eyes flick over each card, your eyes register a dirtied, blue and yellow card about halfway through the silent ride, in which has had most of the lamination peeled off.
"Why do you have a Blockbuster card? I don't think any of those even exist anymore!"
"They don't, and what can I say? I'm a hoarder." she laughs smugly.
"That's not really something to be laughing about," you tell her with a sense of melancholy visible in your expression.
"At least we don't have tons of dead cats everywhere!" your sister jokingly continues.
Sighing, you lean forward to open the glove compartment filled with three piles of CDs that had randomly selected J-Pop, K-Pop, anime openings, and an assortment of other songs that you both could tolerate that were not-so-legally downloaded. You pull out the third case from the top of the pile on the far right. The plastic cover was translucent, a purplish-maroon color making the CD inside slightly easier to see. Opening the encasing, you carefully pop the disc from the button in the center, and slide the plain, white CD into your sister's player. An awfully familiar song begins the track, and you try to hold back a gasp. Nodding your head to the beat, you start to sort of speak along with the music.
"I'm a pale imitator of a boy in the sky
with a cap in his hand, and a knot in his tie.
I'm the light in the mall when the power is gone;
a shadow in the corner, just playin' along!
I'm only laying in my bed; I'm rolling aside,
and if I get a car," You flush and let out an innocent moan. "a moment to ride,
because I know if I ever tried living with you,
you've got a folding chair,
And you don't know what to do!
You'd stop!"
"You wanna do it but you don't know what you're doin', baby!" your sister chimes in. You're both smiling as you sing together, coming to a red light. "You wanna feel it, but you don't know what you're feeling to tonight!"
"Alright, how I do it!" you carol on your own.
"And if you're thinkin', well, I don't know what you're thinkin', baby! You go on thinkin' that I'm gonna make it alright!"
"I'm impregnable, incredible, and set in the-" Abruptly coming to a halt, your sister turns the player off, and your voice decrescendos into silence. You've arrived in the parking lot of a shopping district filled with generic, chain stores; you notice after seeing a yellow buggy to the right of the car. Tugging her keys out of the ignition, you watch your sister shove them back into the deep pocket on her left and open her car door. For some reason, you can't help but stare when she unbuckles her seatbelt, allowing her breasts to regain their original form.
"You comin'?" she inquires, nudging her head to the left.
"Oh. Uh, yeah!" You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the car door closest to you at the same time your sister slams hers shut. Slamming the door with less force than your sister had used, you both make your way to the chain clothing store. Your sister sticks her hand out to the right, as if you were a child, so you could hold her hand. Truthfully, you tell her that you're not up for any ironic shenanigans today, and that you just want to "go in and out" as quickly as possible. This causes your sister to suck her teeth.
"Aw, shoot! Are you really denying my love, li'l lady?"
"No, I am politely declining your offer."
She lets out a hearty laugh, and you give a pathetic "Heh." The two of you step inside the slightly unkempt interior of the store after your sister thanks the automatic doors for some odd reason. You often wonder if she knows that there really isn't an operator sitting in a room, watching the entrance cameras to trigger the automatic door like she thinks there is. Shaking your head, you smile a little at her gratitude towards nothing. Maybe you'll break it to her on April Fool's, someday.
Walking seemed as if it were a chore due to the size of the store, you groaned. "Quit crying." Your sister sighed apathetically. Endless rows of hideous clothes for the mature woman shocked you, as it seemed certain things would either be falling out or unnecessarily flaunted. A particular green "sundress" that caught your attention appeared to cover nothing in the chest area whatsoever. The swimsuits were located near the back of the store, and when you saw there were dressing rooms nearby, you silently thanked the store constructors. Right away, your sister grabbed everything off of the rack that seemed would fit her, meanwhile you take your time looking through your nearly endless options, comments such as That's cute, and Joan would like this one, going through your mind. When you finally decide to take something off the shelves, it's a red two-piece with white roses on the tank that cut mid-waist; it caught your eye because it seemed to be the only suit with shorts instead of those underwear-looking bottoms that always made you uncomfortable.
Taking your newfound suit to the dressing rooms a few feet to your left, your sister steps out of her small cubicle of changing space. "How do I look?" She asks with a wink and her tongue protruding from full lips, a classic anime pose; you'd expect nothing else from her. You begin to look her over, a flush slowly heating your face. The swimsuit she was wearing was incredibly revealing; the string that rested against the back her neck, tied, strained and pulled in order to keep her ample breasts up, and you didn't dare stare at her high-waisted bottoms. Your suit nearly falls out of your hands.
"Kid, you're not saying anything. Is it bad?" She twists her back to the side in attempt to view her backside in the mirror behind you. You rub your thighs together slightly.
"Ah, no! It's great, Sis. Looks good." You breathe out with a flustered smile.
"Mm... I think I'll keep looking." She nods, and turns back around to enter her changing cubicle. The loud click of her lock snaps you halfheartedly into reality. You reach your right arm up and place the hook of the hanger your suit was on onto the back of her door.
"Do you know where the bathroom is?" you abruptly ask her.
"Uh...yeah... I think Chuck E. Cheese is the closest one."
"'Kay."
Chuck E. Cheese's? You've been afraid to go into one since you played that game about those lethal animatronics GameGirl rated 4.20/5, but you supposed you were just going to have to suck it up. They were simply robots; robots who could possibly shove you into a suit when you weren't looking. Robots that could kill you; your body only to be discovered once an angry mother files a complaint about the smell.
Okay, you seriously need to stop that.
Venturing onward and back into infinite racks of flashy and incredibly revealing clothes, you push your golden aviators closer to your reddened face and pull down your t-shirt to cover a bit of your lower half. You bite your lip as well, nervously counting your steps as you exit the large store, and you make a right down the wide sidewalk leading into Chuck E. Cheese's. Breathing techniques you picked up online were done, and you clenched your fists. Stepping past the sweaty, older-teenaged boy by the entrance, you approach a young woman at a desk. Both she and the teenage boy wore a uniform of red, topped with a hat. Your craving for pizza was straining to hold back at the moment due to the sweet, sweet smell of melting cheese. Fists still clenched, you begin to sweat nervously. "I need to use your bathroom!" you whimper as more of a question. Thankfully, this woman is patient with you as you ask how to get to the latrine multiple times.
Trying to enter a bathroom shouldn't be so complicated, yet you had made it so. Two turns to the right down the left hall, she had told you, but you seemed to get lost amongst the many large-scale gaming systems. Loud music that didn't mix together well made your ears hurt, and you winced a bit. A mother stared at you from her small table in the corner; her son was probably about six years old, and was running towards you. Thankfully, you weren't his target as he crashed into the side of a table behind you, the mother instantly springing up to help her now screaming child. You flash-stepped away from the area, your flip-flops making loud slapping noises, and you found yourself soon at the back of the place. The bathrooms were in sight, and you go into the women's room in high hopes of getting more privacy than the family labelled one. It would be just awful if a mother and her child were to walk in on you, you imagined.
There was a long line of several empty stalls, and you enter the one next to the largest stall, located in the very back. The door was slammed unintentionally, and the lock clicks rather loudly; nobody was in, or near, the bathrooms, so you did not worry about the slamming. Perhaps you should have, though, since a staff member could possibly walk in here wondering What is going on? You prayed that nothing of the sort would occur, as that would be a nightmare.
Quickly, you take your Gameboy out of your back pocket and set it on top of the bulky, plastic toilet paper shell to your right. Porcelain clatters as you plop down onto the seat, jean shorts remaining on your person. You bend your knees and lift them so that your now bare feet are placed on the slightly chilled seat. Taking deep breaths, you push up your aviators again, and begin to gnaw on your bottom lip. Just a quick one would be okay, right? Sis wouldn't even notice; you'll be back in a few minutes, probably. She'll never even have a clue!
Pressing your hand against the seam of your jean shorts, you start to rub yourself, finding little friction, and discovering that you hadn't soaked through. You hurriedly unbutton your bottoms with shaky hands, and lift your hips so you can peel your shorts off; you didn't plan on risking any outer spots for the entire public to see. The feeling of your shorts being torn away from hot, sweaty skin was a little gross to you. They fall to the floor, landing on your discarded flip-flops. Surprisingly, your purple underwear wasn't drenched in your juices, but you slid your hand underneath the elastic band to feel nothing but slickness. Tracing a finger over your cunt, slimy liquids trickled down the length of your ladybits.
Your lip was being bit into with such force that you thought a chunk would be ripped out once your left index and middle finger made contact with your pulsing clit. The slickness made moving your fingers a breeze as you pressed into your nerves with pressure, and began guiding them with two fingers in a circular motion. You pathetically whimpered as you imagined your sister staring at you with those beautiful, loving eyes of hers as you tortured yourself; small gasps and long whines were all you could manage between your teeth, which were currently destroying your bottom lip.
More speed was applied desperately, and your breathing became heavier. You imagined your sister stripping for you, calling you beautiful, playing with you; what a dream it would be to become her little plaything! It was too much for you to handle; you couldn't believe how you hadn't noticed how perfect she was just a month before. All these years, it took; this was a horrible thing you were doing. Nobody in the world thought of their sister—let alone the person who raised them—in such a disgusting way.
Tears streamed down your face as the familiar flames within your stomach grew, and the realisation of what you were doing was like a kick to the face. Uncontrolled feelings of guilt and loathe replaced the inappropriate thoughts of your sister, making your chest tighter. It hurt to breathe. Your ears began to ring; your breathing was at its worst. You convulsed and twitched violently as you orgasmed, trying to push yourself through your oversensitivity, the delicious buzzing feeling causing whimpers as you released your bloodied bottom lip. Panting, you put your bare feet back onto the cool tile floor.
You'd best clean up before your sister comes looking for you.