Incest-A Sibling's Bond (Chrysalis) by someasshole


                                            >He sleeps peacefully beneath you, perfectly still with only the movement of his chest to give away that he’s alive.

                                            >You could hear the soft sound of his breath leaving his slightly parted lips if you listened closely.

                                            >He doesn’t toss or turn, he doesn’t shift or snort.

                                            >He’s limp, pliable, and almost impossible to wake up.

                                            >Before, when you were innocent, this just made him the perfect cuddle toy. Your beloved brother was also your beloved stuffed animal.

                                            >Just as you two had always spent every waking hour together, you were destined to spend every sleeping hour together as well.

                                            >You, however, are no longer innocent.

                                            >This is a massive breach in trust.

                                            >You can almost feel the shame weighing down your being, as you betray the one person you love more than anyone.

                                            >But with that shame is anger. Anger at him, anger at that /whore/ of a foster sibling…

                                            >Anger at yourself, for letting it get this far.

                                            >But the feeling that outweighed all others… was entitlement.

                                            >You /deserved/ this. You deserved it so much more than that whore. It wouldn’t be /fair/ if she got it before you did.

                                            >Your brother’s virginity belongs to you, and you alone.

                                            >That’s why your fingers were hooked in the waistband of his pajama pants and underwear, slowly pulling them down as you tremble with anticipation.

                                            >Why were you doing this?

                                            >It all started when you lost your innocence.

                                            >You are Chrysalis, and your brother is Anonymous.

                                            >When you introduce yourself, you always introduce your brother too, because he’s almost always with you.

                                            >Your parents died when you were six, and when Anon was five.

                                            >The foster system tried to separate you two, but you made your displeasure about such known.

                                            >It turns out that multiple attempts to set your foster family’s house on fire has a way of swaying some attention to your cause.

                                            >Especially when you’re shouting over the burning remains of your bedroom that you’ll set the whole world on fire if you don’t get to see your little brother.

                                            >In the interest of preventing a six year old girl from growing up to be an arsonist, the State decided that you would have regular visits from your brother during your short stint in juvie, and afterwards you would not be separated from him again.

                                            >Needless to say, the two of you had a bond, and all attempts to sever that bond only served to strengthen it.

                                            >To you, it was Chryssie and Anon against the world.

                                            >After your parents died, after the foster system took you away from your old home, your old friends and old life, Anon was all you had left. After you fought so hard, as hard as a six year old could, to keep him around… you promised to never let them separate you two ever again. You would be together forever.

                                            >So on that first night out of juvie, even though you were released into a stranger’s home, had to sleep in a stranger’s bed in a strange new neighborhood full of yet more strangers…

                                            >You slept in a stranger’s bed with your brother (even though they offered separate beds), and you knew everything would be alright because he was in your arms.

                                            >For the first time since your parents died, you felt like the world was right again.

                                            >Since then, the two of you were inseparable.

                                            >Things like “sibling rivalry” didn’t make sense to you two. You were each other’s best friends.

                                            >On the rare occasion that you did fight, you almost always made up tearfully within the hour.

                                            >While you still wholeheartedly believe that your bond with your brother is beautiful, you will admit that it… stunted your social growth.

                                            >The two of you had each other, and didn’t need anyone else. So naturally, the two of you didn’t really seek out friends.

                                            >The few who approached us weren’t interested in being an obvious third wheel, an addition that the two of us do just as well without.

                                            >Our favorite thing to do was to play-act all sorts of different stories we made ourselves. Stories about aliens and pirates and adventure, we would spend hours imagining our exploits and play fighting.

                                            >The love of making our own stories turned into a love of stories, which turned into a love of books.

                                            >Which then turned into a love of Dungeons and Dragons, which was basically a more structured version of what we did as kids.

                                            >The schoolchildren we scarcely interacted with called us dorks and nerds behind our backs, but we could still hear.

                                            >We just didn’t care.

                                            >We had each other.

                                            >Six years passed this way.

                                            >Sometimes you moved foster families, but they never tried to separate you again.

                                            >The bond between yourself and your brother only became stronger over time…

                                            >But it was all innocent. You loved your brother immensely, but it was still sisterly love because that was the only kind of love you really knew.

                                            >Until you lost your innocence.


                                            >You and your brother were regulars at the library.

                                            >Most people these days lose their innocence on the internet, but most of the foster families you went to didn’t allow you on the computer or didn’t have one.

                                            >Others tend to lose their innocence via their peer groups. There’s no hotter topic among a group of hormonal girls than dick. You, however, never had a peer group. You had your brother, what more did you need?

                                            >Thus, you lost your innocence nose-deep in a book.

                                            >See, the library has an adult section, and it wasn’t exactly… supervised.

                                            >The first time you stumbled in there, you were twelve…

                                            “Pff- lame.”

                                            >Anon looks up from his sci-fi book in puzzlement as you abruptly snap your book shut part-way through it.

                                            >”What’s lame?”

                                            “The vampires in this book. I mean, if you want your vampires to walk around during the day, then sure okay whatever. But under no circumstances are you allowed to make do something as girly as-!”

                                            >You’re rudely interrupted by a “shush” from a nearby librarian. You glare at her briefly, then continue quieter.

                                            “…something as girly as sparkle.”

                                            >Anon’s brow furrowed.

                                            >”Sparkle?”

                                            “In sunlight. Like a disco ball.”

                                            >”That’s…” Anon frowned. “… even more lame than I thought it was going to be.”

                                            “How is your choice going?”

                                            >He glanced down at his book.

                                            >”…I think I got a part of a series or something. There’s a bunch of stuff going on that isn’t explained and a bunch of nonsense words are dropped like I should know what they mean.”

                                            “You /think/ you got a part of a series?”

                                            >Anon nodded. “Maybe? The title doesn’t have any numbers or subtitles on it, and the blurb on the back doesn’t say anything about other books. Maybe the guy who wrote this is just really bad at exposition.”

                                            >You hum in response.

                                            “Well, I’m going to get a better book. You?”

                                            >”Yeah, I think I need something better too.”

                                            >The two of you stood up from your seats.

                                            “Well, let’s meet back here after we get something new.”

                                            >He nods, and turns a corner out of sight down one of the aisles.

                                            >You do your best to ignore the heart-sinking-feeling that comes every time the two of you split up.

                                            >You know that logically he’s still in the same building as you, but it doesn’t stop that desperate ache that appears when you don’t know where he is.

                                            >Separation anxiety, the school counselor called it. It made class rough when one of you had to stay home sick on the rare occasion you both don’t get sick together.

                                            >You don’t know if Anon has the same thing, but you like to think that he does.

                                            >You wander the library, looking for a section that interests you.

                                            >Unlike Anon, you don’t feel like sci-fi right now, so that’s out. Fantasy is fun but you’ve had enough elves for right now. Romance can be nice, but most of the time it just makes you cringe. Nonfiction turns out to be depressing 99% of the time, and Adult…

                                            >You pause in your steps as you pass the Adult aisle.

                                            >That’s the one genre you haven’t touched, because you aren’t an adult.

                                            >You glance around cautiously, but don’t see anyone walking down the aisles towards you.

                                            >You wonder… what makes /these/ books more adult than the rest? You’ve read Lovecraft, and the school made you read all kinds of terrible abuse nonfiction stories for English (why is every English book we have to read horrific, sad, or horrifically sad?), so how “adult” could these books really be?

                                            >You meander into the section, doing your best to seem like you belong there.

                                            >Searching through the titles, you can’t help but feel like this is just another Romance section.

                                            >Dark Lovers, Sensual Lovers, Lover’s Frenzy, The Greatest Lover… what’s with all these titles and the word Lover?

                                            >Then, a cover makes you stop.

                                            >There wasn’t really art on the cover. It was simple, solid black with the title written in a scratchy white font on the front.

                                            >The title was… Forbidden

                                            >Ominous. Now /this/ sounds like a real Adult book.

                                            >You skip back to your reading spot to find your brother already there reading a new book. You settle down next to him, and crack open the book.

                                            >The book so far has detailed the crappy life of a brother and sister underneath a drunk abusive father.

                                            >Normally you wouldn’t really care for such a book, but…

                                            >The way it describes the relationship between the siblings makes your heart flutter.

                                            >How they start sleeping in the same bed after a particularly bad day really gets to you.

                                            >You can’t even remember the last time you slept alone. You always sleep in your brother’s bed.

                                            >One of the foster families you stayed with tried to stop that in the past by getting you a separate bed, going so far as to get an entirely separate room for you.

                                            >They said it wasn’t appropriate for brothers and sisters to sleep together like you and Anon do.

                                            >You let them know it wasn’t appropriate to get between you and your brother by shredding your bed blanket and pillows with a kitchen knife, breaking the lock to your brother’s room with a hammer, and crawling into bed with him anyway. The two of you were… transferred, after that incident.

                                            >You didn’t understand what was forbidden though. Is sleeping in the same bed as your brother really that taboo?

                                            >You supposed you would find out what specifically is forbidden by finishing the book.

                                            >The sun was setting, so Anon and you proceed to the library exit to check out your books.

                                            >You make sure that the two of you specifically check out the books using the newfangled computer-checker-outers.

                                            >The computer wouldn’t ask what a non-adult such as yourself is doing with an adult book.

                                            >With your books checked out, the two of you continued to your current foster home.

                                            >You and Anon continued your D&D campaign at home until he went to bed.

                                            >Before you recall what happened that night in bed, a bit more context is required.

                                            >You an Anon have a few medical problems. Not really significant ones, but problems nonetheless.

                                            >You were born with a minor stigmatism, and a mouth that resembles The Crawling Chaos.

                                            >That is to say, you had to wear glasses and get braces.

                                            >You got contact lenses when you were eleven, but your teeth were another matter.

                                            >When you were seven, they had to remove not one, not two, but /seven/ extra teeth from your mouth before the braces could even be put in.

                                            >They said you wouldn’t be able to remove the braces until you were between the ages fourteen to seventeen depending on your teeth, and even then your freakish canines would be big enough to stick through your lips even when your mouth is closed.

                                            >Anon, on the other side of the coin, had perfect teeth and perfect eyesight.

                                            >However, he had asthma. If it wasn’t bad enough that he wouldn’t be able to play most sports, his asthma had a peculiar quirk that made it act up more at night.

                                            >This amounted to the shortness of breath either keeping him awake all night or waking him up soon after managing to actually get to sleep.

                                            >This, of course, led to many sleepless nights. You remember staying up with him most of those nights, so he wouldn’t be lonely when everyone else goes to sleep.

                                            >The foster families eventually caught on that there was something wrong with how he slept, so they got him sleeping pills.

                                            >Really powerful ones too. As soon as he closes his eyes, he’s dead to the world.

                                            >This, of course, led to you using him as a living cuddle toy since there was no risk of your movements waking him up.

                                            >It also led to other various things. One of which, before this kindly info dump of context interrupted, was-

                                            >-reading in bed.

                                            >Ever since Anon got sleeping pills, the position of who is last to go to sleep has been reversed.

                                            >You now often read for at least an hour after bedtime, as using the bedside light won’t disturb Anon.

                                            >So you read Forbidden as Anon slept next to you.

                                            >You’re starting to see a few clichés from romance novels show up.

                                            >But rather than making you cringe, this time it’s… making you tingle.

                                            >Maybe it’s because now they’re being used in a relationship you can relate to.

                                            >Even though a brother/sister relationship isn’t romantic by definition.

                                            >So maybe the clichés are actually relationship clichés, not romance clichés?

                                            >You didn’t really notice that you continued reading long after you usually do at night.

                                            >You were too absorbed in the depth of the relationship between the siblings.

                                            >In some ways, their relationship wasn’t as deep as yours and Anon’s. The book doesn’t talk about separation anxiety, and the siblings have friends and romantic partners and stuff. All you’ve ever had is Anon, and all Anon’s ever had is you.

                                            >In other ways, their relationship seems deeper than even yours.

                                            >After all, you’ve never gotten “lost” in Anon’s eyes… but then again you’ve never really tried.

                                            >Has he ever gotten lost in /your/ eyes?

                                            >You glance over at your clock, and gasp when you see it’s passed 1:00 AM. You lost track of time!

                                            >You put a bookmark in the pages to save your place, turned off the bedside lamp, and cuddled into your brother.

                                            >His eyes were closed right now, but tomorrow you’d find a way to get lost in them.


                                            >Green.

                                            >You’ve always known his eyes are green, but you’d never really noticed /how/ green they are.

                                            >It was lunch break, and you two had already finished your meals. Most of the other middle schoolers weren’t done with their lunch, so they had a fair amount of free time. The two of you pulled out your books to pass the time, but you weren’t reading yours.

                                            >You were transfixed, watching his irises as they flicked across the pages. Green, his eyes are green, but it seems like such a blasphemy to describe something so complex so simply.

                                            >His eyes were green, but they weren’t /merely/ green. They were the most vivid green in the center around the pupil, but it stretched outwards in a starburst of soft, swirling color. Misty lines of blue and turquoise flowed through the almost glowing irises.

                                            >You’d never noticed how big and wonderful his eyes are, how beautifully expressive they are as they stared back in confusion-

                                            >”Chryssie? Is there something on my face?”

                                            >You snapped your gaze away, feeling heat rush to your face. A second ago you couldn’t look away, but now you felt like you’ll melt if you face him.

                                            “I- uh- I didn’t, I mean…”

                                            >You aren’t sure why you even opened your mouth. You didn’t have an excuse ready, so all you managed to do is stumble over your words like an idiot.

                                            >”Uh, are you okay?” You felt his hand touch your shoulder.

                                            >You touch him every day, you cling to him every night. If there is one sensation you’re used to, it the feeling of touching your brother.

                                            >It was different this time, and you didn’t know why. His touch was a strange, it felt like an electric shock that spread over your form slowly like melting butter.

                                            “YES! I m-mean- yes. I’m just… a little tired.”

                                            >You worked up just enough courage to glance at his confused and concerned face, before snapping your book back open and almost slamming your face into its pages.

                                            >For the first few minutes you were only pretending to read while your mind went over that moment over and over again finding everything wrong with what you did.

                                            >But you slowly relaxed and started to read again.

                                            >It was as you encroached upon another sibling cuddle scene, did you realize.

                                            >Slowly, a dreamy smile appeared on your face.

                                            >You got lost in Anon’s eyes today.

                                            >That night you continued reading Forbidden, and you finally found the forbidden part.

                                            >The brother and sister kissed.

                                            >Not kissed like you and your brother do, with lips puckered and explosive “MUAH!”s at the tail end of each one.

                                            >They kissed like in the movies.

                                            >They kissed with tongues, like lovers, like they’re romantically…

                                            >You frown, and look to your right where your brother’s head is nestled in your shoulder.

                                            >You know about romance, about kissing and marriage.

                                            >You also know about siblings, about platonic love and unbreakable bonds.

                                            >To you, these two concepts have never mixed. You never really thought about them, and how they relate to each other.

                                            >You always thought of sibling love and romantic love like apples and oranges; they are similar in that they both are fruits, but they’re still vastly different.

                                            >But Forbidden… has brought up some questions.

                                            >You love your brother. You love your brother more than you have loved anything ever.

                                            >If you loved someone who /wasn’t/ your brother more than anything ever, would that make you two lovers?

                                            >Why does the fact that he’s your brother stop that?

                                            >…Does it mean that one day, in order to have a lover, you’ll have to love someone more than your brother?

                                            >The very thought sickens you. How would that even be possible? You literally don’t remember a time without your brother. How could you possibly choose someone you meet later in life over someone you’ve already spent your whole life with?

                                            >Every other book with siblings in it didn’t relate to you as much as Forbidden has.

                                            >Other books had siblings who argued all the time but loved each other anyway, marking the relationship as some kind of love-hate type deal. This was the most popular depiction of siblings.

                                            >Some books had siblings closer to what you and Anon have, but still merely act as though they are best friends who have known each other since birth.

                                            >Only Forbidden has captured the sheer depth of emotion you feel for your brother, your flesh and blood.

                                            >Only Forbidden told of the fluttery feelings in your stomach. Only Forbidden has siblings who cuddle /almost/ as often as you and Anon.

                                            >Thinking about it, love seems less like it comes in flavors and more that it comes in intensities.

                                            >All those other siblings in all those other books had love for each other that could be measured in the range appropriate for siblings. That is to say, either from grudging familial acceptance to best friend forever.

                                            >Forbidden is a book about sibling love that’s more intense than that.

                                            >You finally realize that Forbidden is a book about sibling love that is so strong, that it becomes the most intense kind of love; romantic love.

                                            >You never thought about your brother romantically because you literally didn’t understand that your feelings were romantic. You thought everything you felt was normal sibling stuff.

                                            >But it wasn’t.

                                            >You imagined kissing your brother like in Forbidden, with your tongue. You imagined his tongue dancing playfully across your teeth, feeling your braces and tracing your canines. You thought about how his tongue would feel against yours, how it would move and taste. You began to salivate, and your tongue began to lick longingly along the inside of your mouth as you imagined it.

                                            >It was then that you knew for sure, with no doubts left at all.

                                            >You love your brother romantically.

                                            >Despite all the warmth and good feelings that came with the realization, a cold chill fell over your form.

                                            >You love your brother romantically.

                                            >The embers of excitement and happiness in your heart were doused, leaving a yawning emptiness in their wake.

                                            >You love your brother romantically.

                                            >You thought about the foster family that tried to make you sleep in another bed. You thought about their judgmental faces and questioning eyes.

                                            >You love your brother romantically.

                                            >You hate that you made this realization. You wished you could erase the thoughts from your head. Before, when you thought your feelings were normal, you had no reason to think that your brother felt any different.

                                            >You stare down at the book. More specifically, the title.

                                            >You love your brother romantically.

                                            >But it’s forbidden.

                                            >Your brother loves you. That, you’re certain of.

                                            >It’s just that... since you now understand that the amount of love you have for him is both abnormal /and/ forbidden, there’s a very real chance he doesn’t feel the same way at all.

                                            >That thought…

                                            >An image appeared in your mind’s eye without your consent. An image of Anon recoiling away from you, disgusted. You knew he would never do that, but the chill in your heart grew regardless.

                                            >A more realistic image came to mind, of Anon with a hand on your shoulder -not to keep you close but at arm’s length- telling you that while he loves you, he doesn’t feel the same way. Telling you that it’s wrong, that you’re siblings and that you’re confused and lonely and desperate and and…

                                            >The chaos in your mind only grows and you sink into bed with tears in your eyes. You clutch Anon, and maneuver his arms around your body so you can pretend that he’s holding you and comforting you.

                                            >You almost, /almost/, give into the temptation to tongue kiss him while he sleeps. It’s not like he’d wake up.

                                            >Instead you sob into his pajama shirt until sleep takes you.

                                            >The following morning the cold despair that overtook you had mostly passed, and optimism took its place.

                                            >You felt… refreshed. Clean. Like you had taken a weight off of your shoulders. The realization of your feelings cleared away so much confusion and left in its place potential.

                                            >You didn’t know if your brother loved you as much as you did him.

                                            >But, that doesn’t mean that there’s no chance he feels the same way.

                                            >Even if he doesn’t like you the way you like him, there’s time to let the love evolve.

                                            >When you crawled out of your brother’s arms in the morning and got ready for school, you had a new goal to base your life around.

                                            >You were going to… what was the word for making someone love you? Romance? Seduce? Seduce.

                                            >You were going to seduce Anon. You’re going to seduce him until he tongue-kisses you every morning, afternoon, and night. Then you’re going to get (secretly) married. Then you can both get naked and hug each other while making out… that’s what married couples do right? Naked-hug-kissing? That’s what they do in the movies anyway.

                                            >Now that you actually have an interest in romance, you’re going to have to do some research in how it’s done.

                                            >As you’re getting dressed, a strange thought came to you.

                                            >You never did figure out why Forbidden is supposed to be an “adult” book… maybe it will become more evident later in the story?


                                            “Oh believe it or not, I’m walking on air~”

                                            >You sing under your breath, swaying your hips to the beat.

                                            >You adjust your “Kiss the Cook” apron with one hand while the other flips the sizzling bacon.

                                            >You feel hands wrap around your torso, and lips on the back of your neck as the love of your life hugs you from behind.

                                            >”Morning, dearest.” The house breadwinner whispered into your ear.

                                            >You turn your head and kiss at her.

                                            “Morning Cady.”

                                            >You are Shining Armor.

                                            >Former marine and house husband extraordinaire.

                                            >Why are you a house husband?

                                            >Because you’re a better cook than your wife, and your wife makes more money than you.

                                            >It’s not emasculating at all.

                                            >IT’S NOT!

                                            “Just a few more minutes before we eat.”

                                            >You hear her hum. “I’ll get the children.”

                                            >You nod as you hear her retreating footsteps ascend to the second floor.

                                            >You and Cady are foster parents.

                                            >You tried to be actual parents, and have been trying for some time, but no dice.

                                            >Doctors are just as baffled as the two of you are, because you have a normal sperm count and your wife has a normal… egg count? Point is; her cooter and all associated parts work properly.

                                            >So yeah… no babies for you, and no answers either. For many, this would have been the end of it. But Cady is a bit… obsessive over starting a family.

                                            >So she signed the two of you up for the foster program. She would’ve adopted, but it’s not a sure thing that one of us is infertile yet, so she chose the more temporary option.

                                            >’To get experience in raising children before we have our own’, was her excuse.

                                            >’To fill the yawning baby-shaped void in my heart’, was her actual reason, you’re pretty sure.

                                            >You turn around just in time to see the aforementioned foster children descend the stairs, your wife following shortly behind.

                                            >You can easily see the resemblance between the two, with the same skin tone, eye color, and similar facial features.

                                            >The boy, Anonymous, is a bit shorter than his sister, but he’s younger too. He doesn’t talk much- at least, he doesn’t talk to you or your wife. Not more than short, clipped sentences. Cady says he has severe social anxiety or something, so you don’t try to force your interactions.

                                            >Chrysalis, unlike her brother, isn’t shy. She has braces, and wears glasses in the mornings before she puts in her contacts. It was her last foster family got her fitted for contacts, the hard ones too so future foster families wouldn’t have to regularly replace them. You wonder if this was an attempt to make her more confident or sociable.

                                            >If it was, the attempt failed. You don’t really know Chrysalis well enough to know how confident she is, but you’ve never gotten an “I can’t” vibe from her. But as far as sociability goes, she’s worse than her brother.

                                            >Anonymous might close up, shift around and be awkwardly quiet when forced into an interaction.

                                            >Chrysalis, on the other hand, will often bluntly state she doesn’t want to talk to you. Whether or not this follows up with biting remarks depends on her mood.

                                            >As you said, she /isn’t/ shy.

                                            >The children sit at the dinner table quietly as you sweep over, bacon and eggs on a plate in each hand.

                                            “Breakfast is served!”

                                            >Anonymous mumbles a thank you, and Chrysalis says nothing. Her eyes were slightly glazed as she stared in her brother’s direction.

                                            >You took one more trip to the kitchen to grab you and your wife’s meals, and finally sat down at the table.

                                            >Everyone began to quietly eat.

                                            >…

                                            >…

                                            >…

                                            “…SO!”

                                            >Anon jumps at your sudden exclamation, while Chrysalis doesn’t react at all.

                                            >Your wife leans in, wondering what you’re going to say.

                                            >As if you know. You just hate long, awkward silences.

                                            “You kids…”

                                            >You trail off, trying remembering what they like.

                                            >They play D&D together… only together.

                                            >It was a game you loved to play as a kid. You offered to DM for them once.

                                            >Chrysalis told you it wouldn’t be the same if you joined. You tried to point out that two people aren’t enough to play a proper D&D game with. In response to that, Chrysalis threw the core rulebook at you. Hard.

                                            >The rejection did NOT hurt your feelings, and it did NOT give you flashbacks of high school, no it didn’t.

                                            >What else did they like? It was something that reminded you of your little sister, she was about the same age-

                                            >Ah! Books!

                                            “… read any good books lately?”

                                            >Chrysalis nodded mutely, and didn’t elaborate further. Didn’t even look at you, actually. Not surprising.

                                            >Anon /did/ look at you, nodded mutely as well, opened his mouth as though he was about to say something…

                                            >… then closed it, apparently thinking better of it.

                                            >Jesus, pulling words out of these kids is like pulling teeth.

                                            “That’s good…”

                                            >You look at your wife.

                                            >She gives you the ‘why are you looking at me’ look.

                                            >You give her the ‘I just made an attempt so you had better as well’ look.

                                            >She finishes her mouthful, and furrows her brow as she thinks.

                                            >Then she perks up.

                                            >”So, Chrysalis… you’re getting around /that/ age. See any cute boys at school?” She leans forward, giving the girl a wink.

                                            >Something happens that you can scarcely believe.

                                            >Chrysalis blushed. /Blushed/.

                                            >Chrysalis /never/ blushes.

                                            >The best part was that she didn’t even emote while it happened. She was in full pokerface mode.

                                            >”N-No.”

                                            >You heard that stutter.

                                            >The surprised face on Anon said he heard it.

                                            >From the shark-like look on your wife’s face, she heard it too.

                                            >Oh my.

                                            >Cady’s always had a weird obsession with matchmaking.

                                            >”Oh, so you saw a few cute boys /outside/ of school?”

                                            >Chrysalis slowly turned her bright red face towards your wife, putting down her fork in the process.

                                            >Her face was expressionless, but her eyes screamed ‘murder’.

                                            >”No.”

                                            >Cadence’s grin only grew. “Okay, if you say so,” she said in a voice that very clearly said she didn’t believe her.

                                            >Chrysalis stared a bit longer, before resuming her meal.

                                            >Well, it was good that Chrysalis had a crush. She can’t go through her whole life with only her brother for company.

                                            >At first, you thought it was cute how inseparable they are. Over time, however, the unhealthiness of the relationship started to unfold.

                                            >They go literally everywhere together. They wake up and dress together, they go to the bathroom together, they bathe together, they even sleep together. If they are ever apart, it isn’t for very long.

                                            >You talked to Cady about it, but she said that trying to separate them would be ‘inadvisable’ and refused to elaborate.

                                            >So you let it go, but you still worry. They’re going to start puberty soon, and with puberty will come /urges/. If they don’t start to grow independent of each other by then, there’s a big chance they’ll resort to ‘handling’ the urges they get /together/. Especially considering how often they see each other naked.

                                            >As much as you and your wife love incest roleplay, you’d prefer that no /actual/ incest happens in your house.

                                            >It might lower the property value or something.

                                            >The kids and wife left shortly after finishing their meals, leaving you alone in the house.

                                            >You head to the living room, turning on the TV and then moving from window to window, closing each of the blinds.

                                            >The neighbors didn’t need to see what was coming next.

                                            >You sat down on the couch, leaned back to get comfortable, and grabbed the remote.

                                            >Alone at last.

                                            >”My little pony~ My little pony~ Ah-ah-ah-ah~”

                                            >The fact that you’re a house husband, have always made less money than your wife, apparently can’t impregnate your wife, and like a show for little girls does not make you less of a man.

                                            >IT DOESN’T.

                                            >IT JUST MEANS YOU’RE VERY SECURE IN YOUR MASCULINITY.

                                            >YOU WERE IN THE MARINES! HOORAH! LOOK AT ALL YOUR TESTOSTERONE!

                                            >YOU’RE NOT A GIRL TRAPPED IN A MAN’S BODY!

                                            >…

                                            >Oh, this is a good episode.


                                            >You are Chrysalis, and your brother is a few tables away reading.

                                            >You’re at the library again, but this time with a different purpose.

                                            >The first thing you did when you arrived was log onto the computer. You told Anon that you’re looking up a good fantasy book.

                                            >You’re actually looking up sex.

                                            >Why?

                                            >Because earlier today at school during lunch break, you came upon the naked-makeout scene, and it has some of the most annoyingly vague wording in the whole book.

                                            >He ‘entered’ her? With what? How? Why?

                                            >She ‘convulsed around him’… what? That sounds unhealthy.

                                            >He ‘released himself all over her back, moaning the whole time’. Good God, did he just commit seppuku over her screaming naked body? No wait, they’re still both alive and there’s no gore text…

                                            >All of it had the feeling of an ‘in’ joke. As though everything would come together the moment ever-crucial context came into play.

                                            >So you decided it was finally time to learn about sex.

                                            >You start with google.

                                            Search: sex

                                            20 Sex Positions that will Get Her Off Every Time

                                            >…Get who off of what? Next link.

                                            How Many Calories Does Sex Burn

                                            >Well in order for that to be useful, you have to know what sex is first. Next.

                                            Funny Sex Pictures

                                            >You’ve already seen sex in movies, and it wasn’t very funny, just weird. Next.

                                            Sex - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

                                            >About damn time. Why wasn’t this the first link?

                                            >…

                                            >…

                                            >Okay, you went from so vague you have no idea what’s going on, to so detailed you have no idea what’s going on.

                                            >Blah blah blah chromosomes, blah blah blah male gametes, blah blah blah reproduction- wait.

                                            >/This/ is where babies come from!?

                                            >That… that…

                                            >That just raises more questions!

                                            >So far this article just says what happens when sex happens, not /how/ sex happens! How the hell do babies come out of getting naked and rubbing people!?

                                            >Then your eyes catch something near the top of the screen.

                                            This article is about sex in sexually reproducing organisms. For the act, see Sexual intercourse.

                                            >That’s more like it.

                                            >You click on sexual intercourse and read the first line.

                                            Sexual intercourse, or coitus or copulation, is principally the insertion and thrusting of the penis, usually when erect, into the vagina for sexual pleasure, reproduction, or both.

                                            >Your eyes widen.

                                            >His /what/ goes /where/!?

                                            >You look slightly to the right of the page, and see the helpfully provided image.

                                            >…oh.

                                            >That looks… painful.

                                            >One of your hands drifts down to your crotch, cupping it protectively. The very thought of something… /stretching/ you down there makes you shiver with phantom pain.

                                            >Okay… okay… a few more questions answered. Now you know what the book meant when the brother ‘entered’ his sister. You also now know why all those movie sex scenes were shot at the angles they were, because you saw none of this happening in those movies.

                                            >So in short, the boy stabs the girl with his thing, pees inside her, ???, then babies.

                                            >And it’s all supposed to be pleasurable? It doesn’t sound very pleasurable to the girl. Maybe it only feels good for the boy?

                                            >Regardless, someday you’re going to do this with Anon because that’s what romantic couples do. If it’s Anon penis-stabbing you, you could probably take the pain as long as he’s having fun. But only if he kisses you afterwards. With tongue, of course.

                                            >You now feel very informed.

                                            >…As long as you’re on the computer, you might as well look up a few other topics.


                                            >You are Parchment Printer, a librarian.

                                            >The library’s approaching closing hours, and before you leave you want to use the computer to search for a good Chinese restaurant in town.

                                            >You sit down, and open Google.

                                            >You click on the search bar, and pause when you see recent searches.

                                            sex

                                            sex pictures

                                            marriage sex

                                            how to be sexy

                                            >Well, someone learned about the birds and the bees today. You scroll down, privately amused at the innocent internet inquiries.

                                            penis

                                            erection

                                            penis juice

                                            semen

                                            semen in vagina

                                            >You can almost see the train of thought here.

                                            what does semen taste like

                                            >Someone’s got plans.

                                            how to seduce

                                            how to seduce your brother

                                            >…

                                            >Ho boy, that took a turn.

                                            >Someone’s got /big/ plans.

                                            >Should you… report this to somebody?

                                            >You scroll down a bit more.

                                            brother sister sex effects

                                            incest

                                            incest legality

                                            incest pregnancy

                                            >Fucking hell, this girl is hungry for bro-dick.

                                            >That’s disturbing…

                                            >…but also kind of hot.

                                            >Seriously though, should you report this to somebody?

                                            >Who would you even call?

                                            >Screw it, it’s none of your business.

                                            >You clear the search history, find your restaurant, and purge the searches from your mind.

                                            >At least until later tonight when you rub one out.


                                            >Your naked form leans forward in the bubbly water.

                                            >A loofa glides over your back, scrubbing away all the filth.

                                            >But you aren’t the one who’s holding it.

                                            >Chrysalis hums as she scrubs your back, her legs wrapped around your waist so they extend in front of you.

                                            >You’re Anonymous, and your sister has been acting weird lately.

                                            >Well, weird/er/.

                                            >It started with those strange long, lingering looks she would give you.

                                            >Then she started getting touchier than usual. You two have always been huggers, but recently she’s been insisting on holding your hand and hooking your elbow as you walk places.

                                            >Then there’s… /this/.

                                            >The two of you have always bathed together. You’re pretty sure that it isn’t normal at your age, but you do lots of stuff with your sister you’re sure isn’t normal. Chryssie said that’s because you have a special relationship.

                                            >So you always bathe together. It’s normally a very business-like experience, scrubbing each other down and enjoying the water. But this time…

                                            >For some reason, Chryssie has been doing everything slowly. And she’s /really/ taking the touchy feely thing far.

                                            >You shiver as the loofa is discarded and her soapy hands begin to caress your shoulders, before moving onto your back, under your arms, and now your chest. She leans forward until you can feel her breath on your ear.

                                            >Oh man, your thing is feeling funny again. The last time it felt like this, it got weirdly stiff. Luckily it happened while Chryssie wasn’t paying attention.

                                            >If it happened now, though, she would for sure notice. Especially with all the staring at me she’s been doing recently.

                                            >You see Chryssie’s head lean over your shoulder, moss-colored hair draping all the way into the water.

                                            >You turn over slightly to see her, and see her eyes are pointed firmly downwards.

                                            >You look down and see a patch of bubbles have cleared right around your front.

                                            >She’s looking right at your dick.

                                            >…

                                            >…

                                            “Uhhh-”

                                            >”Does your penis ever get hard?”

                                            >HOW DOES SHE KNOW

                                            >IT’S NOT EVEN HARD RIGHT NOW

                                            >CHANGE THE SUBJECT

                                            >MISDIRECTION

                                            “D-does your v-vagina ever get s-s-soft?”

                                            >WHAT DOES THAT MEAN

                                            >YOU SAID IT AND YOU DON’T KNOW

                                            >ABORT

                                            >SHIT YOU CAN’T ABORT YOU’RE IN THE TUB

                                            >”…I think it’s soft all the time.” You hear her giggle. “Want to feel it?”

                                            “B-But you pee from there!”

                                            >”So? We’re in the tub. If you get dirty just clean it off.”

                                            “I d-don’t think-“

                                            >”Oh for the love of-“ her hand shoots down in the water.

                                            >You yelp as you feel her cup your penis and balls in her hand.

                                            >”See? No big deal.” She loosens her grip slightly, running her fingers over the underside of your testicles.

                                            >Then she traces her fingers up the balls, to the base of your penis, then all the way up to the tip.

                                            >Then she lets go.

                                            >She laughs.

                                            >”So it /does/ get hard!”

                                            >You blush really hard, and lean away from her.

                                            “It does, okay!? I don’t know what it means! Just please don’t tell anybody!”

                                            >”Anon?” Her arms wrap around your chest and pull you into her embrace. “Who would I even tell? I don’t talk to anybody but you.”

                                            >You don’t look at her.

                                            >You don’t think you can look her in the eyes.

                                            “I ‘unno.”

                                            >She sighs.

                                            >”Anon, your penis is supposed to get hard. I found out about hard penises a few days ago, and I was curious.”

                                            >You perk up.

                                            “Really? There’s nothing wrong with me?”

                                            >”It’s the opposite.” She said, and a hand rose to your chin to turn you toward her. She stares straight into your eyes, long sea-green bangs of hair framing her face. “You’re perfect.”

                                            >You don’t know what to say to that, so you turn away, unable to hold her gaze any longer.

                                            >…

                                            >”You sure you don’t want to feel my vagina?”

                                            “Chryssie, w-what’s with you and touching pee-parts suddenly!?”

                                            >She’s quiet for a moment.

                                            >You hear the water swish as she moves her hand towards yours.

                                            >Her fingers wrap around your wrist, while her other hand grabs your shoulder.

                                            >She turns your whole body towards her.

                                            >She’s just as naked as you of course, though her long hair serves to cover her developing breasts.

                                            >Her knees poke out of the water on either side of her, and she spread them a little further as she dragged your hand closer and closer to her groin.

                                            >”I just…”

                                            >She’s leaning in really close now.

                                            >Your heart’s beating really fast.

                                            >Her breath washes across your lips.

                                            >”…don’t want…”

                                            >Her other hand moved from your shoulder to the back of your neck.

                                            >”…any barriers…”

                                            >You’re nose to nose now, her eyes staring deeply into yours.

                                            >”…between us.”

                                            >Your palm touches her groin. You feel a fold of skin, one you’ve seen every day but never really thought about let alone /touched/.

                                            >She inhales sharply and tenses, and you feel her push back against your hand. Her eyes widen and dilate like she just had an epiphany.

                                            >”It /does/ feel good…” she whispered.

                                            “…What feels-“

                                            >”Are you two okay in there!?” You hear your foster father shout through the door. “You’ve been in there a while!”

                                            >Chrysalis lets go of your hand, which you snapped back to your person fast enough to cause a splash.

                                            >She turned and glared at the door, a literal growl at the back of her throat.

                                            >”WE’RE FINE! GO AWAY!!” she screeched.

                                            >”… Fine, jeez.” You heard retreating footsteps.

                                            >The two of you sat in awkward silence for a few moments.

                                            >…

                                            “…My fingers are getting pruny.”

                                            >…”Yeah, we’re pretty clean now anyway…”

                                            >You both climb out of the tub and start getting dressed.

                                            >She squeezed her shirt on first, and it isn’t a long one, so you still see everything down there.

                                            >Huh. Her, uh, area looks all red and swollen. Is it irritated? Did you hurt it when you touched it?

                                            >A thought occurs to you.

                                            “…Chryssie, why does my penis get hard?”

                                            >She gives you one of those lingering looks in the eye.

                                            >Then she smiles.

                                            >”Because you love me,” she said with a nod.

                                            “Uh, okay.”

                                            >Then she continues dressing.

                                            >…

                                            >…

                                            “What does that have to do with my penis?”

                                            >She starts laughing, but you don't get it.

                                            >Not many moments between yourself and your sister have been awkward.

                                            >When you share as much life with someone as you have, it starts to get difficult to have truly embarrassing and uncomfortable moments.

                                            >You and your sister have dealt with bathing, bedwetting, diarrhea, and all sorts of other things together without flinching.

                                            >But last night…

                                            >It was weird. Weirder than what you’re used to dealing with.

                                            >Now the both of you are getting dressed in the morning for school, the first rumblings of your foster parents waking below.

                                            >Normally this part of the day is spent in companionable silence.

                                            >This, however, was a silence so awkward it’s almost tangible.

                                            >The way Chryssie keeps glancing at you nervously like she’s done something wrong doesn’t help.

                                            >You want to clear the air, will the strange feelings away…

                                            >…but you don’t know where to begin.

                                            >Normally talking to Chryssie is so easy.

                                            >When you’re talking to anyone else, it feels like you have to force the words out. You never know what specifically to say until after you’ve already said something stupid.

                                            >But Chryssie, you could just… talk to.

                                            >Until now.

                                            >With all this weirdness in the air, with a hollow heart you realize that talking to Chryssie in this moment is just like talking to anyone else.

                                            >Damn near impossible.

                                            >Chrysalis is fully dressed for school, and you’re finishing up the buttons on your shirt.

                                            >You open your mouth to say something…

                                            >…but nothing comes out. Coward.

                                            >”Anon?”

                                            >Of course it’s her who breaks the silence. She was always the brave one of you two.

                                            >”I didn’t… freak you out last night in the tub, did I?”

                                            >You turn to her, ready to lie and tell her it’s fine, because you’re a coward.

                                            >It’s only after you meet her eyes do you remember that you can never lie to your sister. Not when she looks at you like that. That worry, more concern than you’d ever seen on any foster parent’s face.

                                            >The weight of her gaze is too much. You look away.

                                            “…A little.”

                                            >Your voice came out as a whisper, even though you wanted it to be louder.

                                            >You hate that you’re scared of talking to people. You wish you were strong like your sister.

                                            >”I’m sorry, Anon.”

                                            >You frown. It’s true that her actions are the reason for this… tension, but the thought of her accepting blame for it tasted wrong.

                                            “…You don’t have to-“

                                            >”I do, though.”

                                            >You feel her hands land on your shoulders.

                                            >”I just… wanted to share something special with you. I wanted to let you know how much I love you.”

                                            >Her arms continue past your shoulders and wrap around your chest, and she rests her chin on your left shoulder.

                                            >Her breath washes over your ear. You lean back into her, some of your tenseness washing away.

                                            >”No one’s ever touched me… /there/ before,” she continued. “I think I just really liked the idea of sharing something with you that I’ve never shared with anyone before.”

                                            >You feel her head lean into yours.

                                            >”I like to think that there aren’t any barriers between us… that there’s no intimacy that we can’t share…” she whispered.

                                            >You swallow, and nod shakily.

                                            “I t-think I understand…”

                                            >She giggles, her chest heaving slightly on your back.

                                            >”Now that we’ve touched each other in our private places, we’ve officially shared everything…” she trails off.

                                            >A brief silence follows, this one companionable unlike the last few.

                                            >”Anon…” her voice comes halting, as though she’s nervous. “Do you love me more than anything else in the world?”

                                            >You frown.

                                            “Of course I love you.”

                                            >”I know that you love me silly, you’re my brother.”

                                            >She steps back from you, unwinding her limbs from your chest, and resting her hands on your shoulders to turn you towards her.

                                            >She leans in, making direct eye contact.

                                            >”I asked if you love me more than /anything/ else in the /whole world/.”

                                            >You thought seriously about the question.

                                            >The books you read would feel empty with no one to talk to about them.

                                            >Dungeons and Dragons wouldn’t be the same without your sister’s snark.

                                            >Without her you’d have no one to talk to, no one to play with.

                                            >Without her, you’d probably be completely alone because you’re too scared to talk to people that aren’t your sister.

                                            >You hardly even remember your parents, and you don’t really know anyone else.

                                            >The answer is obvious then.

                                            “…yeah.”

                                            >You smile.

                                            “I love you more than anything else in the whole world.”

                                            >Chrysalis grinned.

                                            >”Good. ‘Cuz I love you more than everything good in the whole world put together!”

                                            >She kisses you on the nose, then grabs your hand and leads you to your room’s door.

                                            >Just before her other hand reaches the knob, she looks back at you.

                                            >”Oh, and if you ever want to touch me down there again, just go ahead.” She smiled and leaned in to kiss your cheek. “You don’t even have to ask for permission.”

                                            “Uh, okay.”

                                            >For some reason, your face feels like it’s on fire.

                                            “S-Same to you?”

                                            >Not that she asked permission the first time…

                                            >Her grin grew, and the hand that was going for the doorknob shot down and cupped your boy parts through your pants. You gasp, not expecting her to actually do that.

                                            >You shiver as she seemed to give a light, appraising squeeze. Then she let go.

                                            >”Deal,” she nodded.

                                            >Then she opens the door and steps out.

                                            >As you follow her, you can’t help but feel like some day, that deal is going to come back to haunt you.


                                            >You are Chryssie, and your brother is out cold to your right.

                                            >Today was a great day, because your brother admitted to loving you /almost/ more than you love him.

                                            >Everything else was pretty much business as usual. School was just as much of a snorefest as it always was, and your D&D campaign didn’t seem close to a stopping point despite the fact that the current one had been going on for months.

                                            >What put a firm damper on things were these annoyingly prevalent abdominal cramps. You hope you don’t have a stomach flu.

                                            >The day’s over now, though, finished when Anon swallowed his knockout pills and flopped into bed.

                                            >Now you’re alone, and you think it will be a while before you decide to go to sleep.

                                            >Because now you want to reread the sex scene in Forbidden.

                                            >You lean over to the bedside table, and take the book into your hands.

                                            >Now that you have a better idea what the hell is going on, you can appreciate the scene for the depiction of such a close, intimate moment.

                                            >You snuggle deeper into the covers, and adjust Anon’s arm so it wraps around your side.

                                            >…sometimes, you wished Anon slept normally so he could cuddle you back…

                                            >You shake your head of that thought, and crack open the book and flip back a few pages.

                                            >You smile when you come across the scene again. It’s late at night, raining, and the drunken father is away from the house.

                                            >The protagonists’ father can’t afford heating, so on such a cold autumn night, the brother and sister only have each other for warmth.

                                            >You let the book’s scene overtake you.

                                            >You imagine you and Anon, just like the book siblings, cuddled in your room sharing a blanket.

                                            >You imagine running your hands underneath his shirt, feeling his goosebumps from the chill.

                                            >You imagine whispering in his ear that he’s still cold…

                                            >…You imagine whispering that he could be warmer if he wanted…

                                            >…You imagine him whispering back that he’d love nothing more…

                                            >…You imagine slowly undressing each other, still in the covers…

                                            >…You imagine his hands running across your bare stomach, chest, and arms…

                                            >…You imagine running your hands over every inch of him, caressing his entire form…

                                            >…You imagine his maleness getting hard for you, getting excited…

                                            >…You imagine his hand reaching down and rubbing your-

                                            >You open your eyes with a gasp, an electric sensation shooting through your body.

                                            >Your hand is down the front of your pajama pants, underneath your underwear.

                                            >Shivers crawl through your body, and you place the book aside.

                                            >New images were appearing in your mind’s eye, as your fingers glide over your own crotch feeling the few fine hairs that grew above your most intimate place.

                                            >You don’t imagine, you /remember/.

                                            >You remember Anon’s minute little jitters and tremors as you rubbed him all over in the bathtub.

                                            >You remember his face, bright red and confused and /ever/ so cute, as you reached beneath the water and /felt/ him.

                                            >You remembered how /reactionary/ he became under your touches, you remembered how much of an affect you had on him despite the fact that he clearly didn’t even know what sex /was/ just like you not all that long ago.

                                            >You remembered the feeling of his palm on your-

                                            “Oo-oo-ooh~”

                                            >You seal your lips shut after the moan escapes your mouth unbidden.

                                            >You barely even realized that your hand is moving in circles in your pants, and you barely even notice the moisture accumulating there.

                                            >You feel like the only real thing you notice in that moment is the feeling of Anon’s arm still around you.

                                            >You’re done remembering, it’s time to imagine again.

                                            >You imagine that your annoying foster father /didn’t/ interrupt you two like the living fucking blockade he was.

                                            >You imagine his hand moving, /rubbing/ you.

                                            “Nnngn…”

                                            >You imagine him getting braver, leaning inwards and locking lips with you.

                                            >You imagine your tongues wrestling, his teeth playfully biting your lower lip as his hand’s tempo increases.

                                            *huff* “Ohmygo-nng~”

                                            >You imagine reaching beneath the water yet again, wrapping a hand around his young, hard penis.

                                            >You imagine both of your faces on fire, staring into each other’s eyes as you both furiously masturbate the other.

                                            “A-Anon~”

                                            >You imagine his needy boyhood /pulsing/, as he tenses and thrusts his hips all the way out of the water.

                                            >You imagine sticky white strands shooting from-

                                            “Ano- nnhnnnnggnnnn~”

                                            >You felt the buildup, you felt your upper thighs quivering beyond your control, but it still felt like it came from nowhere.

                                            >The toe-curling pleasure that had been warmly spreading through your body from your crotch rose to a crescendo.

                                            >It struck you like lightning, and you could barely describe how you felt.

                                            >It felt like you were falling without the panic, like you were weightless.

                                            >It felt like Anon’s fingers were brushing over every inch of your form, sending tingles from the surface of your skin all the way down to your bones.

                                            >It felt like warm bathwater was making its way over your body, growing scalding hot (but in a good way) as it gets closer to your twitching girlhood.

                                            >Your eyes were closed tight, but if they were open you weren’t sure if you would be able to see anything anyway.

                                            >Your muscles tense, and you /thrash/ as the sensations overwhelm you.

                                            >You /buck/ into you hand, which had gone from rubbing to desperate groping as your motions grew beyond your control.

                                            >You felt your abdominals clenching, trying to /squeeze/ something that isn’t there. You bite into your pajama shirt collar /hard/ to prevent yourself from screaming.

                                            >Then…

                                            >…

                                            >…It was over.

                                            >All of your motions stopped, your muscles relaxed, then…

                                            >There was peace.

                                            >/So/ much peace.

                                            >Your whole body felt spent, but warm. Satisfied. You didn’t think you could muster the will to move even if you wanted to.

                                            >Your hand was still in your pants, limply sitting on your soaking vulva that still occasionally quivered.

                                            >You open your eyes, and see that your bedtime glasses were messed up while you had thrashed around.

                                            >You glance over at Anon, and see that as usual he’s still asleep. His head was thrown limply to the side, and his arm wasn’t as around you as it had been when you started, but other than that he was undisturbed.

                                            >You sigh as the warm feelings finally felt as though they were passing.

                                            >Then you groan as you feel the abdominal cramps you noticed this morning flare up again.

                                            >You slip your hands out of your pants, suddenly very aware that there is a lot of moisture down in your crotch. Did you pee? When you got to the last part, it almost felt like you were peeing for a second.

                                            >You bring you hand up to your face.

                                            >Your hand is covered in red.

                                            >…

                                            >You sit up and throw the covers off of yourself and Anon, looking down at your pajama pants.

                                            >There’s a big blotch of red spreading out from your crotch.

                                            >Your eyes grow very wide as you realize your vagina is bleeding.

                                            >…

                                            >…

                                            enter panic mode? y/n

                                            yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy


                                            “I dunno, Cady. This is making me a little uncomfortable.”

                                            >”My name isn’t Cady, my little knight in shining armor. Besides, I thought you loved playing with your sister.”

                                            “Yeah, I mean, brother sister stuff is one thing, Cadence, but this is kind of-“

                                            >”That’s not my name.”

                                            “Cady-“

                                            >”Say. My. Name.”

                                            “…”

                                            “Twilight Velvet. Seriously-“

                                            >”Come now, my baby boy, only my husband calls me by my full name like that. You call me mommy, remember?”

                                            “Cadence you’re being weirdly insistent about this and it’s scaring me- YOWCH!“

                                            >”CALL. ME. /MOMMY/.”

                                            “Okay! Okay mommy I’m sorry justletgo!”

                                            >”That’s better. Aww, my sweet baby boy, did you get a booboo?”

                                            “Ohgoditstender”

                                            >”Don’t worry, mommy will kiss it better.”

                                            >…

                                            >…

                                            “Okay, I didn’t think they would, but the kisses actually help.”

                                            >”See? Now just lay back my /big/ boy, and let mommy take care of everyth-“

                                            >”AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWHATDIDIDOWHATDIDIDOWHATDIDIDOOHGODOHGODITSEVERYWHEREI’MBLEEDINGTODEATHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”

                                            >You and Cady are so startled by the sudden ear-piercing shrieks that you both unceremoniously roll off of each other

                                            >Cady rolled onto the rest of the bed. You, however, rolled off the edge.

                                            >You scramble to your feet, and turn to your wife.

                                            “Get to the gun safe!”

                                            >You sprint to the bedroom door and grab your intruder repellant (read; your emergency baseball bat) as you leave the room.

                                            >Your heavy footfalls echo throughout the house as you get to your foster children’s’ room as fast as you could.

                                            >You don’t even bother with the doorknob, slamming the door open with your shoulder and wielding the baseball bat like a sword.

                                            “I’m here what’s wrong!?”

                                            >You’re treated to the sight of Anon in bed alone, the covers thrown to the ground, still asleep though in an uncomfortable-looking position. To his immediate left, however, was a bloodstain on the bedspread.

                                            >You find Chrysalis in the corner of the room hyperventilating, cupping her red-stained crotch with red-stained hands and looking both scared out of her mind and mortified that you see her.

                                            >Rapidly approaching footsteps marks your wife’s arrival.

                                            >”I got the gun! I got the gun!”

                                            >She bursts into the room, shoving past you and pointing a pistol.

                                            >”FREEZE MOTHERFUCKER!”

                                            >Instead of a home invader, she’s treated to the same view you were given.

                                            >Her eyes widen and her arms go limp at her sides.

                                            >”Oh.”

                                            >…

                                            >…

                                            >You lean the baseball bat on the wall and clap your hands.

                                            “Welp! It looks like you two,”

                                            >You look at your wife meaningfully, who is still just looking embarrassed.

                                            “are going to have a talk, so I’ll just, eh...”

                                            >You take some steps backward.

                                            “…give you some privacy.”

                                            >Then you turn around, snatching the pistol out of your wife’s hand, and speed walk back to your bedroom.

                                            >You remember your deal with Cady, that /talks/ with our children (biological and otherwise) would be divvied up via gender.

                                            >You’re supposed to explain why boners happen, and your wife is supposed to explain why God hates women. From your perspective, totally fair.

                                            >So, in short.

                                            >That is /not/ your job.

                                            >You are Chrysalis, and your brother is eating breakfast next to you at the table.

                                            >You aren’t eating, though. You aren’t hungry. You’re too busy stewing.

                                            >Last night, you learned something new about your body.

                                            >And frankly, you’re upset.

                                            >Apparently once every month, your vagina likes to bleed. This happens as soon as a girl gains the ability to become pregnant, and will continue to happen until the girl can no longer become pregnant.

                                            >This happens to every girl on the planet, and it happens for most of their lives.

                                            >Then why was it…

                                            >THAT YOU ONLY HEARD ABOUT IT /AFTER/ YOU SOIL YOUR PANTS AND BED!?

                                            >THIS SEEMS LIKE SOME FUCKING IMPORTANT INFORMATION TO HAVE AS A VAGINA OWNER!

                                            >WHY DIDN’T SCHOOL SAY ANYTHING!? WERE YOU JUST NOT PAYING ATTENTION THE DAY THEY BROUGHT UP HORRIFIC VAGINA BLEEDING!?

                                            >God, you were so scared too. You thought you ripped something or cut yourself without knowing! You thought you ruined your vagina forever, just after discovering it’s good for more than just peeing!

                                            >…You thought you ruined yourself for Anon…

                                            >You shake your head of that thought, shifting uncomfortably on the pad your foster mother gave you. She said she would get you your own before the weekend is over.

                                            >Ultimately, you felt…

                                            >…inadequate. Stupid.

                                            >You felt like a kid.

                                            >Periods. The Menstrual Cycle.

                                            >It’s supposed to be a big part of reproduction, meaning it’s supposed to be part of sex.

                                            >You thought you already knew everything you needed to know about sex, but…

                                            >…apparently not.

                                            >You glance over at Anon.

                                            >What if you /had/ been bolder with Anon before? What if you asked him to stick your penis in you, and you started bleeding all over him?

                                            >You grimace and look away.

                                            >You were beginning to think that you’re too young for all this sex stuff.

                                            >You really want your first time with Anon to be perfect, to be special. Clearly in order for that to happen, you not only need to research everything about sex, but you also need to grow up a little just in case you’re missing any other… surprises.

                                            >Plus, frankly, after seeing your own crotch drenched in blood for reasons you didn’t understand at the time…

                                            >You don’t think you can handle sex right now anymore.

                                            >But that’s okay. Anon doesn’t know you want to have sex with him, and on top of that he doesn’t even know what sex /is/ yet.

                                            >The only one who was rushing things is you.

                                            >So… one day, Anon’s going to get curious about sex and stuff, and you’re going to be ready. You’ll know /everything/ about sex, and you’ll make sure all of Anon’s curiosities are… /satisfied/.

                                            >Then he’ll kiss you, have sex with you, you’ll move to the south to get married, then you’ll have sex every morning and every night for the rest of your lives.

                                            >A happy ending.

                                            >/The/ happy ending, because no other ending will be happy by your standards.

                                            >You lean your head on Anon’s shoulder, and smile as you imagine your life together in the future.


                                            Part 2


                                            >You are Anonymous, and you don’t have much time.

                                            >You don’t often get the chance to do this in the morning, but you have to be swift.

                                            >You huff and puff, clenching your teeth as you desperately jerk your dick in a white-knuckled grip.

                                            >It hasn’t even been a minute yet and you’re already close.

                                            >You almost never get the opportunity to deal with your morning wood because your sister always wakes up before you.

                                            >But not today. Today, /you/ woke up first, opening the way for a unique opportunity.

                                            >An opportunity to get off /twice/ in a day instead of just once like usual.

                                            >You think of some of the lewder movies you’ve seen, the shapely women therein.

                                            >You think of a few books from one of your rare forays into the adult section of the library.

                                            >You grunt as your rhythm gets too fast and your hand slips over the head of your dick at a funny angle.

                                            >You lose grip, get pre all over your palm, and stop the friction for a full second.

                                            >You hurry up and start jerking again with gusto, but the peak fell away.

                                            >The imagery in your head is hot, it’s keeping you on your peak, but it’s not enough to finish this.

                                            >Your mind shuffles through all of your memories and imagination, trying to find that one perfect image to make you-

                                            >Unbidden, a new image fills your mind.

                                            >Chryssie, naked in the tub, grabbed your hand by the wrist and forced you to /feel/ her.

                                            >She stares deeply into your eyes the whole time, a furious blush on her face.

                                            >’I just… don’t want… any barriers… between us…’

                                            >You almost recoil and stop from reflex, but instead you bite your lip and groan quietly. Rational thoughts were beginning to leak out of your ears.

                                            >You were /so/ close…

                                            >Another image.

                                            >Chryssie again, her hand feeling you through your pants.

                                            >’Oh, and if you ever want to touch me down there again, just go ahead.’

                                            >‘You don’t even have to ask for permission.’

                                            >Oooh fuck that’s so wrong in hindsight

                                            >Oooh fuck you’re cumming

                                            >You tense, teeth clenched as you lean over the toilet bowl.

                                            >With an undignified groan and a few wanton thrusts, you were shooting your load into the toilet water.

                                            >Then it was over.

                                            >You must’ve been quite a sight. Pajama pants around your ankles, hunched over the toilet with one hand leaning on the counter and the other wrapped firmly around your dick. Panting like you just ran a marathon, sweating like it’s summer, and a face redder than a tomato to top it all off.

                                            >Now that your orgasm has passed and your head is clear, you feel dirty.

                                            >Not your appearance, that doesn’t concern you. The bathroom is no place for silly things such as dignity.

                                            >What makes you feel dirty are those last couple fantas- no they weren’t fantasies, they were memories.

                                            >That night in the bath, two years ago…

                                            >You wince. You forgot all about that. Must’ve blocked it from your memory ever since puberty began in earnest.

                                            >It’s probably the lewdest thing you’ve ever been personally involved with, and it was with your sister.

                                            >To be fair, as socially isolated and often sheltered as the two of you were, you didn’t really know what it meant to be lewd at that point.

                                            >It was a weird night.

                                            >Thinking back, you stopped bathing together soon after that day. You realize this was probably because Chryssie found out what she was doing.

                                            >If you’re weirded out in hindsight, you can only imagine how mortified Chryssie must have been.

                                            >And here you are, tainting an innocent embarrassing childhood moment by masturbating to the memory of it.

                                            >You can almost feel God frowning at you, and you aren’t even religious.

                                            >You know what you need?

                                            >Porn. You need real porn.

                                            >You don’t find your sister attractive at all, with her long flowing hair and sparkling emerald eyes, with her tall, slender form-

                                            >Rephrase; YOU DON’T FIND YOUR SISTER ATTRACTIVE AT ALL. NOTHING ELSE NEEDS SAYING.

                                            >You only /think/ you find your sister attractive because she’s the only girl who’s consistently been in your life.

                                            >Also she’s the only girl you’ve ever seen fully naked. Even the dirtier movies you’ve seen cover up the nakedness with cheeky camera angles.

                                            >So there, you need some real porn. Once you have that, these fucked-up thoughts you’re having will be replaced by thoughts that are fucked-up in a different way. In a non-incestuous way.

                                            >You’re startled by the bathroom doorknob suddenly jiggling violently.

                                            >”Anon? Are you in there?”

                                            >You haphazardly begin cleaning your hands and penis with toilet paper, your quickened movements leaving behind sticky traces of TP on your genitals.

                                            “Y-yeah I’m just, uh, I’m almost done!”

                                            >You flush down the remains of your work, wash your hands, and open the door to see Chryssie leaning on the wall giving you a weird, suspicious look.

                                            >You stand in the doorway, not entirely sure what to do.

                                            “Did you, uh, want the bathroom?”

                                            >”You seem flushed,” she observes.

                                            “I-I just-“

                                            >”Winded, too.” Her gaze travels over your body, a contemplative look overtaking her features.

                                            >Then she grins like a shark, which combined with the metallic texture of her braces and her strangely lengthy eye teeth, made for a legitimately eerie image.

                                            >“But what -oh what- could cause my dearest brother to be both winded and blushing… in the bathroom?”

                                            >You give an annoyed huff and step out of the doorway, turning down the hall and walking towards the down stairs.

                                            >“No response?” You hear suddenly from right behind you, letting you know that your sister had been following right behind you with that unnaturally quiet gait of hers.

                                            >Suddenly her arm is thrown around your shoulders, stopping you in your tracks.

                                            >”Could it be, that my little brother is embarrassed about something?”

                                            “Chryssie…”

                                            >”Embarrassed about a particular undignified act most vulgar?”

                                            “Chryssie!”

                                            >You frown as she starts giggling at your expense. “Sorry Anon, you’re too fun to tease.”

                                            >You roll your eyes and look at her.

                                            “Chryssie, goading me about my… habits, is really weird.”

                                            >Her eyes become lidded as her smile somehow becomes mores smug. “Habits, eh?”

                                            “Yes, /habits/. So can you please drop it?”

                                            >Chryssie laughs again, but it’s softer and less mocking.

                                            >”Sorry Anon.” She takes her arm off your shoulders so she can look directly at you. “I’m just trying to make a point.”

                                            >You squint at her suspiciously.

                                            “What point is that?”

                                            >She smirks.

                                            >”I already know you jack off in the shower every night.”

                                            “W-What!?”

                                            >Before you can back away her hands snap forward and grab you by your shoulders.

                                            >”And I don’t care.”

                                            “We-ell I-I-”

                                            >”Do you think I think less of you? Do you think I don’t understand the urge?”

                                            >You’re about to sputter some more unintelligible nonsense, when she suddenly leans forward and presses her forehead to yours, staring deeply into your eyes.

                                            >”You don’t need to be embarrassed. You can trust me. You can /always/ trust me. With /anything/.”

                                            >You’re speechless.

                                            >This is uncomfortably heartfelt for a conversation about your masturbation habits.

                                            >”So if you need some alone time to rub one out, just tell me.”

                                            >You frown.

                                            “J-Just tell you?”

                                            >She does her best to nod without breaking contact with your forehead.

                                            “J-Just straight up say ‘hey Chryssie get out of here for a minute I gotta jack off’?”

                                            >”Yes.” She smiles mischievously. “Unless you’d like me to help.”

                                            >You choke, stumbling back from her embrace, and she starts laughing.

                                            >You glare at her, thoroughly unamused.

                                            >Then you sigh. Your sister always did have a weird sense of humor.

                                            “Chryssie, asking someone to leave so you can masturbate is weird no matter how close you are to them.”

                                            >Her laughter tapers off, and she frowns at you.

                                            >”Only if you make it weird.”

                                            “Then why don’t /you/ announce when you’re masturbating?”

                                            >”Fine!”

                                            “Yeah, that’s what I- what?”

                                            >”In fact, I’m going to go masturbate right now!”

                                            >You stare with wide eyes as she storms past you and into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. A small ‘click’ later signifies she locked the door.

                                            >Your wide-eyed gaze doesn’t leave the closed door for a moment.

                                            >There’s no way she’s actually…

                                            >…is she?

                                            >…

                                            >…

                                            >You… turn around and head downstairs.

                                            >You sit down at the dinner table with your foster parents.

                                            >”Where’s Chrysalis?” Mrs. Cadence asks.

                                            “She is busy.”

                                            >A few minutes pass with only chewing filling the silence.

                                            >Finally your sister comes downstairs, and sits down next to you.

                                            >You idly notice her wiping her left hand on her pants leg.

                                            >”Where were you?” Mrs. Cadence asks.

                                            >”I was busy.” Chrysalis responded evenly.


                                            >Two days later you discovered a naughty magazine under your pillow with ‘have fun’ written on the cover in your sister’s handwriting.

                                            >She continued to tell you and random points that she is leaving to masturbate, but you’re /mostly/ sure she does it as a joke to fluster you.

                                            >You have yet to reciprocate, because honestly that’s really weird.

                                            >But, judging by the looks your sister gives you occasionally, she knows when you do it anyway.

                                            >Anyway, the magazine is pretty good. It’s just missing a few pages, some of them apparently having been torn out.

                                            >Most of the pictures left in the magazine are of really slender dark-skinned girls with long hair, which reminds you of your sis-

                                            >-which reminds you of no one. No one at all.

                                            >At least whoever ripped the pages out has good taste.

                                            >Regardless, porn was acquired.

                                            >You’ll have to thank your sister for this someday.

                                            >In writing, preferably. ‘Thanks for the porn’ is rather awkward to say out loud.