Title: Magic Marker, Book One: Felt
Summary: A 12-year-old girl discovers a magic marker and learns what is written on her changes her.
Keywords: mg, inc, mc, 1st, ped, loli, anal, Mdom, humil, magic, oral, spank, toys
Foreward: This story was inspired by a picture by artist Danaume on hentai-foundry, who wanted to inspire me. Well, it worked. The actual picture she drew I intend to get to in Book Two, so I'll put a link in at the end (as well as to an additional picture that takes place during this story), but I do need to make my thanks up front. Without her work, this would not have been possible.
Magic Marker, Book One: Felt by AnonyMPC (mg, inc, mc, 1st, anal, ped, Mdom, humil, magic, oral, spank, toys)
Stories happen when things go wrong. Even at twelve, Susan knew that. Nobody wants to hear a story where somebody had an average life with no problems. It doesn't matter if it's true or made up, if it's got a happy ending or a sad ending, or even if it has an ending yet, a story doesn't begin until somebody, somewhere, has done something wrong, and, whatever kind of ending it was, that someone usually deserves the blame.
In some of the best stories, it was the protagonist herself who caused the troubles, accidentally, and Susan, who, like many people, thought of herself as the hero of her own story, thought hers was probably one of those kinds of stories.
She already blamed herself for what had happened more than anybody except maybe God. If God was responsible for magic, it was kind of His fault, so maybe she should just roll with it as part of His plan, since she was enjoying parts of living out her new story anyway, even if it made her feel ashamed and sometimes humiliated. People rarely blamed God in stories anyway, even when it was His fault, and she wasn't sure it was. If God wasn't responsible for magic, then whoever was, maybe they deserved most of the blame. But if magic was something that just happened, like a cosmic roll of the dice, then it was mostly her own fault, and no matter who was responsible for magic, Susan knew, deep down, that she was the one who caused the start of her own story, she'd written the first word herself. Two decisions led up to that single word that changed her life. Two mistakes.
Three mistakes if you count wanting to go swimming that day in the first place, but she could hardly be blamed for that, it was a beautiful warm summer day... what twelve-year-old wouldn't want to go swimming? And, although both her parents worked, she had a big brother with a car that she could persuade to take her to the pool, with a little pestering. Or a lot of pestering. But with a lot of pestering, and a little reminder that there might be lots of girls in swimsuits he could look at, her brother Keith agreed to take her to the public indoor pool the day Susan found the marker.
Before her story really began, Susan had thought of herself as a normal kid, a budding writer of stories, but not the kind of person people told stories about... maybe someday, but not yet. That day, she was just living and, at the pool, she had a lot of fun, playing around in the carefree and rather boring way of someone who is not in a story. She'd met a few friends and together they gossiped, splashed each other, had swim-offs, giggled and got exhausted and just floated, and ducked under and held their breath underwater as long as they possibly could. The last was just a taste of danger but she wasn't worried, under the protective watch of the lifeguard and her brother.
The lifeguard had to go into the water a few times, but never for her, mostly to break up two siblings fighting on the other side of the pool from where Susan was, but her brother Keith didn't get wet at all. He just sat on the sidelines drawing with a Sharpie on the pad of paper he carried with him everywhere. Keith, Susan knew, had dreams of being a comic book artist one day, and did elaborate page layouts and character sketches, all in bold strokes of black and white. Susan was his biggest cheerleader... even though, deep down, she thought he needed to work at it more, especially on drawing hands and feet. But he was her brother, and always got so down when anybody said anything negative, so she kept that criticism to herself, knowing he'd get better, just like she'd get better with the spelling issues that got in the way of her goal to one day become a writer.
Susan had always liked that her and her brother's dreams were so similar, and, even though she planned to focus on prose, novels and short stories, she had a secondary dream of her and Keith working together sometime on a comic, her handling the story, him doing the art. So far he hadn't even taken any of her suggestions for his own comics, but one day she hoped he'd see value in her and they could be partners, a team, best friends even. She had faith that if they both held on to their dreams, they could also help each other reach them. So, she always tried to always be encouraging about his work, even if she might have preferred he came out to play with her instead of being locked up in his room all the time. A person can work TOO hard on things. That was another reason she begged him to take her to the pool, in the hopes he'd get in and swim with her. But even though he didn't, he still looked up now and then and would watch her, and, the last half hour they were there, he did nothing but watch her and her friends.
That gave her a little thrill, and she played to it, trying to do so without looking. She'd walk to the edge of the pool and then bend over to talk to a friend, while her butt, clad only in a tightly-clinging yellow swimsuit, pointed right at him. For at least a year now she'd gotten an impression that he liked looking at her, that he did things deliberately to check out her body. More than half the time she was sure it was entirely her imagination, but, there was evidence she could point to. He would sometimes enter her room without knocking and catch her changing, or demand entry to the bathroom while she was in the shower, and then did his business while she hid behind a translucent curtain. Or sometimes she might be wearing a skirt and get a feeling he was trying to look up her legs whenever she changed positions on the couch. She could never be sure he was deliberately trying to get a peek... he always either looked away when she looked at him or, in the case of the more questionable acts, apologized profusely... but just the thought got her heart racing and a warmth shooting between her legs. He was tall and good looking, and if he thought she was worth looking at, then that gave her hope someone else might as well. Of course she knew he'd never do anything... he was her brother, after all! That's why it was so safe to enjoy the thought.
Maybe that was true, once, but all he needed to change that was a little push, a push that two mistakes provided, and the first of those mistakes came when she and her brother walked back to the car from the pool. He was in a rush to get home, so she hadn't changed out of her swimsuit... but even though he was impatient to get going, at least he was smiling on the way out. "Have fun, squirt?" he asked while leaving the hallway that lead to the change area. Her normal clothes were in Keith's backpack slung over his shoulder.
She rubbed her short-cropped hair with the towel... with the water, it looked almost black, which she liked, and stringy, which she didn't, so she wanted to get it dry quick. "Yeah, lots. Can we come back tomorrow?"
"I don't think so. I'm not driving you to the pool every day."
"Aww, come on... it's a good place to meet girls. Girls in bikinis!" Susan wore a one piece but sometimes fantasized about wearing a skimpy bikini and all the guys staring at her.
"Like I'd have a chance. You know how girls are. They're always more interested in jerks."
Susan rolled her eyes without letting him see, having long ago decided that the real truth was that her brother was just too shy to go after anybody. She looked at the blonde-haired, perpetually peppy teenage girl who manned the front desk of the community center... she looked right about Keith's age, maybe even a schoolmate, and had smiled at him when they came up, but he didn't notice. "Not all girls." Right now she was listening to music on ear buds, but she looked up and waved as the two passed.
"Most girls," Keith said, still oblivious. "Even you, probably."
She made a face. "No way!"
"Maybe not yet, you're a little young, but you'll probably fall for a jerk too. That's what big brothers are for, to punch their faces in." He grinned and made a fist, and she smiled.
"And to take their little sisters to the pool."
"Once in a while. But I'd rather just work on my comic."
"But if you're just going to be drawing anyway," she pointed out, "...why not draw somewhere I can have fun too?" She grinned and elbowed him in the leg. "Besides, I saw you at the end, you were having fun watching us."
Keith scoffed at the thought. "No, I just didn't have anything else to do." He held up the Sharpie he'd been using. "I ran out of ink. You owe me a pen, squirt."
She could tell he was only teasing, but she had to defend herself anyway. "You would have used it anyway!"
"Maybe, but I spent gas money getting you here, and..." Whatever he was about to say, he never got a chance to finish. As he pushed open the glass door to the outside, he spotted a grungy looking guy seemingly mumbling to himself. The bum was shuffling around, staring at his feet, and then suddenly looked up to the sky. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he stopped moving, let out an inarticulate groan.
When he stopped moving, he was right in the path of Keith and Susan, and she got a good look at him. He was dirty, there was no doubt about that, with at least a week's growth of beard and his clothes were all sweat-stained, and the smell... well, he smelled worse than Keith's laundry hamper, the sourest smell Susan could think of. But, when she looked closer, she realized that part of what she thought was dirt was actually writing, maybe tattoos. They ran up and down his arms, and there were even some on his face and hands. Most were impossible to read, either they were smeared or faded, or he just hadn't written them very clear in the first place, but there were a handful that she could make out. One looked like it said "Constant Organisms", which must have been the name of a band, another said "Immortal" or maybe "Immoral", he spun around suddenly and Susan couldn't read it anymore, and in fact, didn't want to, because when he turned he did his arms whipped out to grab Keith by the shoulders.
"It's all an elaborate joke," he mumbled, then his eyes rolled back into his head.
"Let go, you crazy freak!" Keith tried to wriggle himself away, but the man's grip was fierce.
After a moment of silence, he began to shake, and then his eyes once again focused, straight on Keith's, and he continued, "It doesn't mean anything, you see. Nothing means anything!" Finally, Keith pushed him away, and gave a worried, warning glance to Susan, a glance that said 'stay back while I deal with this freak.'
Her brother held up his hands in a move like somebody who knew Karate, but Susan knew all he knew about martial arts came from movies. "Look, dude, just go somewhere and sleep it off. We're not interested."
The bum advanced once more in a drunken walk, and said through gritted teeth, "Don't ask for wisdom."
Keith finally snapped and let loose with a kick... he may not have known anything about martial arts, but all it takes for a kick is for it to connect. He aimed for the man's crotch, but the man swiveled his leg at the last second, so it hit him in the knee, sending him to the ground, and a moment later a small object flew skittering across the pavement, making a brief clatter. Susan noticed it, but her brother didn't seem to, still focused on the man he'd just kicked, and wearing an expression of guilty concern mixed with wariness. "Look, I'm sorry, man, but I don't want you touching me." Since the guy was on the ground, Keith took a wide circle around him and stopped by his sister Susan, who'd been watching the whole scene with wide-eyed shock. He took her hand and led her back to the building. "Come on, you wait inside here and I'll go get the car."
As they opened the door to go back in, they heard the man again. "Just go for happiness while you can! He's getting tired of us!" he shouted, and then pushed himself to his feet... although he spent a few seconds on his hands and knees in mid-motion, seemingly shaking and smiling.
From inside, they watched, and then the man started to shuffle off, crossing the small stretch of the parking area right in front of the doors, designed for people to drop off or pick up but not park. It was hard to tell where he was going, for his legs weaved and turned at odd moments, but it looked like he might be aiming to harass people at the nearby burger place.
Still, Keith didn't take any chances. He looked to the girl at the desk, who'd taken her ear buds out and was watching the man with some concern, and asked, "You mind if I leave her here with you while I run and get the car? I don't want to risk that guy coming back."
She gave Keith another wide smile and said, "Oh, sure. I already called the cops, the guy's probably on drugs." He nodded. "But it's good that you look out for your sister. That's important." He nodded again, and walked out.
Susan looked up at the girl, noticed her watching her brother leaving, and, after waiting a minute or two, asked, "How old are you?"
"I'm fifteen. How old are you?"
"Twelve. Do you go to school with my brother?"
"We go to the same school," she admitted. "But he's a couple years ahead. I was only a freshman last year."
Susan's face lit up. Jackpot. There were two other high schools in the area, so if they weren't the same age, and she knew he was in the same school, that means she noticed him in school. Which might mean she liked him. Like-liked. Maybe she could play matchmaker. Of course, Keith probably wouldn't make a move on his own... maybe she was the kind of girl who would make the first move, if she got a little encouragement. "Yeah, he mentioned that," she lied.
Her eyes widened. "He did? What did he say?"
"Just that he thought you were a freshman at his school. When we came in." He said no such thing, though he looked her over. It wasn't out of the question that he recognized her too. And the way her face fell a little when Susan's answer didn't meet her highest hopes, that just gave more fuel to her theory that she liked him. "What's your name?"
"I'm Susan." Through the glass doors, she saw a familiar silver Ford Taurus pull up. "That's my brother's car." Actually it was their parents' second car, but since Keith got his license they let him use it so long as he didn't get tickets... but she thought it would sound more impressive to Tricia if he had his own car. "Bye." She lifted her hand to wave, and Tricia waved back, and then Susan dashed out.
Once out in the sun, she took a look around. The homeless guy was stopped at a garbage can, one hand on the edge, and she wasn't sure if he was using it as something to lean on or if he was shopping for dinner.
But it was far enough that she didn't fear him, and, in fact, could take her time and check out something that she'd wondered about. There, on the ground, near where Keith kicked the homeless guy to the ground, an object had gone rolling... and, as she rounded the back of the car (so she could sit in the front seat like she wanted), she could see what it was, and picked it up just to be sure.
It was a marker.
Not just a marker. A Magic Marker, or at least that's what it said on the side. Just the single, huge, word "Magic" along one side, as though it was a brand-name, although there was no trademark symbol beside it, and on the other side of the pen, a wall of text. "Felt Indelible Black Magic Marker: Bring Your Dreams To Life! Never Runs Out! Non-Toxic! Safe To Use On Skin (Warning: Marks May be Long Lasting!)! Use At Your Own Risk! Avoid or Embrace Temptation As You Desire! Caution: Labels Will Not Violate Laws of Physics (Much)!" The text got progressively smaller as it went on, and there was even more but Susan couldn't really take the time to read it all. The wall of text all shoved onto the one half of a magic marker was crazy... it reminded her of a bottle of minty-smelling soap her dad bought long ago that was covered with wild promises. Maybe it was made by the same company... she remembered both using a lot of exclamation marks.
The marker was purple on the outside, although it said it was black, and she pulled off the cap for a second to confirm that the felt tip really wasn't purple inside. Black was the color her brother worked with, if it was purple, he'd probably throw it away.
She looked over in the direction the garbage can. Homeless guy was still there. Technically this was his pen. Susan always thought of herself as a good person, and knew that what she should do was leave it there, or maybe return it directly to him. She knew her brother would never let her get close enough to do it in person, but if she really tried, she could probably throw it near the guy and yell out that he dropped it.
And yet, it was a magic marker, just like her brother had just said he wanted. It was like fate. And she wasn't 100% sure the homeless guy even dropped it, maybe it was just on the ground and went flying when he fell... but considering how much the guy wrote on himself, it probably was his. On the other hand, the guy was dirty, and this marker was clean, looking almost like new. She even smelled it, and it didn't smell bad at all. Maybe he just got the thing to replace the one he used up writing on himself...
The sharp honk of the car horn interrupted her thoughts and she looked up. "What are you doing?" her brother yelled. "Get in."
She took one last look at the hobo, who was looking back in her general direction, and she made a choice. If it was his, he was probably going to waste it marking himself up more, she decided. Whereas her brother might be able to use it for something productive. The rationalization was unconvincing, and deep down she felt she was doing a bad thing. But despite the hard knot of guilt in the bottom of her stomach, she hid the magic marker up in the palm of her hand and got in the car, not knowing that she was making the first bad decision that would eventually kick off the story that would soon dominate her life.
"What were you doing?" Keith asked as she wiggled her butt into a comfortable position on the towel laid over the seat. "Drop your keys?" It was a joke, albeit a lame one... with her swimsuit on there wasn't much room to carry anything else.
She wasn't sure if she wanted to tell Keith about the marker yet, so she just said, "Just looking at something on the ground." She pulled her seatbelt over her chest and clicked it into position.
Keith put his foot on the accelerator and they drove... as they did, Susan's eyes followed the homeless guy who seemed to be watching the car, seemed to be watching her. She had one last moment where she thought maybe she should chuck the marker out the window, but the moment passed and they were too far away. "Did he scare you?" Keith asked.
"He probably was just on drugs or something. That's why you should never get into that shi... stuff."
His almost-swear made her smile, but unfortunately she couldn't quite bust him since he didn't finish it. "That's what Trish said, that he was on drugs. Maybe he's just mentally ill though."
"Maybe." A second later, he asked, "Trish?"
Susan tried to hide her excitement that her brother had taken the bait. She looked out the window and did her best to sound bored. "Tricia. The girl at the front desk. She goes to your school."
"Yeah. And I know something else." She turned back to Keith with a big grin. "She likes you." Susan stretched out the word 'like' real long to make it a tease.
He blew a puff of air out of the side of his mouth. "Yeah, right."
"No, really," she insisted. "We should totally come back tomorrow and then you can flirt with her."
"Did she say she liked me?"
"Well, no... but we girls can tell."
Keith scoffed at that. "You're twelve, you don't know anything," he decided. "You just want me to bring you swimming again."
"Okay, I do, but I really think she likes you too. So it's a win-win situation. Besides, maybe she's into artists. She seems like the type. You could offer to draw her!" Keith shook his head, rolled his eyes in what Susan had come to call his 'stupid Susan' look, like he didn't want to come out and say it but it was what he was thinking, that she was being naive and childish. And maybe sometimes when he used it he was right, but not this time. She grit her teeth and let out a moan of frustration. "You are such a dork sometime! You know, that's the reason you don't have a girlfriend. It's not that girls like jerks, it's that you never ask them out! You're just never believe that they might like you."
"That's where you're wrong. I used to believe it all the time." He frowned a little. "Now, not so much." He shook his head and continued. "Just because I don't go after girls around you, or tell you about them, doesn't mean I don't try. But like I said... they're all into jerks."
The bitter and almost soulful way her brother opened up to her shut Susan up, and her heart went out to him a little. Maybe she really didn't know anything about his problems... but he seemed like an obviously awesome guy to her, the kind of guy she'd want to date, so it was just hard to believe that no other girl in his school saw it. The answer, she decided, was probably that he was going after the wrong girls.
But if she tried to tell him that, he'd think she was nagging or a silly girl who didn't know anything. She could work on him more later, but for now it was time to change tactics... and the marker in her hand seemed like a good way to do that. She waited until he pulled into the driveway of their house and said, "Here." She tossed is onto his lap, where it bounced once and landed between his legs.
"What's this?" He grabbed the marker and squinted at it.
"It's a magic marker," she said. "You said I owed you one, so, here."
He undid his seatbelt and wriggled it over his shoulder, all while inspecting her gift. "Where'd you get this?"
She shrugged. "I found it."
"Some stupid no-name brand," he pointed out. "And if you found it, it's probably already out of ink."
She should have thought of that... but she didn't even try it out yet. Why had she assumed it would work? Oh, that's right. She leaned over the divider, latched onto his arm with one hand and pointed with the other. "See, look, it says it never runs out."
"That's just marketing nonsense. Like 'The Everlasting Gobstopper'. Or 'The Never Ending Story.'"
Susan shrieked and covered her ears. "You know the rules, you never mention the horse-killing movie." Their dad got them to watch it years ago, a movie from his own childhood, and, as a lover of any movie or show with magic in it, she was enjoying it... up until the horse drowned in the mud. It was right in the middle of her 'horses are the best thing ever' phase, a phase she still hadn't entirely grown out of (now they were simply in her top fifty). Although her reaction was mostly an old, running joke at this point, for months afterwards she had nightmares, and still shuddered when she thought of it.
"You know at the end, the horse is f..."
Susan repeated, "HORSE. KILLING. MOVIE," spacing out the words for emphasis. She'd never seen the full movie, and never wanted to.
He grinned. "Jeez, Suze, you should take one of Mom's pills, maybe it's relax you a little. Anyway, just because it says it never runs out doesn't mean anything. Just because you write something, doesn't make it true. Besides, it's purple."
She took her hands off her ears, which weren't really blocking out the sound anyway. "No, just the outside's purple, it says on the label the ink's black."
He took off the cap and dabbed the felt tip of the marker against part of the dashboard, leaving a small black dot. "I guess it's not completely empty. Was this what you were getting off the ground?" Susan nodded after a moment of indecision over whether she should try to hide it. "I wonder if it belonged to the homeless nut."
"I don't think so." The words rushed out, because of Susan's instinctive urge not to have her brother realize she technically stole it. "If it did, it'd be all smelly, like him." She nervously brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes... she had short hair, but long bangs in front... and when she was nervous, or lying, or guilty, it always seemed like she was suddenly conscious of one of them blocking her vision.
"Smelly? That's not a very nice thing to say," he teased.
"Well, he was smelly!"
"At least he has an excuse, he lives on the street. What's your excuse?"
Susan wrinkled her nose in indignation. "I am not smelly!"
"Well, your feet sure are!"
"Are not!" Even though she knew he was probably only saying it to make her mad... it bothered her. What if they smelled and she'd just gotten used to it?
"Sure they are." He reached down and grabbed her below the knee, and pulled her leg sideways, eliciting a scream that was part annoyance and part delight. Even wearing the seatbelt, Susan was tiny enough that she could be wrenched sideways as Keith's hand slid down to her ankle, pulled it up and out of the sandal, and directed it towards his nose. He made a disgusted face. "Yep, Peeee-yew. Stinky feet."
"Shut up!" His other hand, the one holding the marker, tickled Susan's sole gently, causing her to squirm around even more. As she writhed around, she couldn't stop laughing, and she also couldn't get free. Her free leg kicked at his thigh.
"Oh, so now you're kicking me? Just because you can't handle the truth?" He grinned. "I think you need a reminder." He popped the marker in his mouth and locked his lips around the cap. When he pulled away, the cap remained there.
"No, don't!" she whined.
He didn't listen, just began writing, and, letting the marker cap fall into his lap, began saying the words as he wrote. "Stinky.... feet."
Finally, he let go of Susan's ankle, and she pulled her leg close to herself. "You dummy! That's permanent marker!"
"Oh, relax. It'll last a couple days, max." He fished the cap out of his crotch and put it back on the marker, then slid it into his pocket. "You worry too much, stinky-feet." With that, he tousled her short brown hair and opened the door to get out.
By the time they got inside the house, Susan's feet began to stink.
They attributed the odor to the marker right away... but only in the most direct, rational way. "Wow, that marker's ink really does kind of smell, doesn't it?" Keith said, even though it wasn't the weird chemical smell that usually came off markers... what it smelled like was a more natural scent, like sweat and maybe a little like a stinky cheese.
And, in the way that smells do, they got used to it and stopped noticing it was there... but at dinner, their parents both noticed it... they blamed Keith at first and when Susan got all red-faced they apologized and assured her that it wasn't that bad, and Mom suggested that a little bit of baking soda might help.
It did, for a little while... an hour or so, at most, and then the smell returned. Mom said it was probably just a phase, and if it lasted too long, they'd go see a doctor. But that didn't help much to a little girl who had stinky feet.
She didn't press her brother to go to the pool the next day. Or do much of anything else. She tried going to a neighbor friend's house, but, despite putting baking soda in her shoes and socks before she left, while there, her friend kept sniffing and asking what that smell was, and Susan soon found an excuse to go home.
The rest of that week, she kept mostly to herself, interacting with her friends through the Internet or FaceTime instead of in person, which was a more-or-less viable option for social interaction these days. It still made for a waste of a wonderful week of summer, but it was better than the shame of getting a reputation for stinky feet. At home, at least her family rarely mentioned the problem. Mom occasionally brought up the possibility of the doctor again, but she wanted to give it time, sure it would probably go away on its own. In the meantime, Susan was stuck... with stinky feet. Even though she showered every day, sometimes twice, used baking soda regularly, it never lasted long... her feet would soon start stinking again. And every time Susan scrubbed at the black words on the sole of one foot, she had to wonder... the smell started when Keith wrote the words. The marker said something about making your dreams come true. The homeless guy had stuff written all over his body.
And it had said, right on the label, that it was a MAGIC marker.
Susan was twelve, and although one of her favorite TV shows was "Once Upon a Time," her belief in actual magic was slowly being strangled by the so-far relentlessly real world. Her desire for magic to exist was as strong as ever... she just no longer trusted that desire. So, she told herself, it was probably just a silly thought. And even if she mentioned it to somebody, she'd probably just get laughed at. She hadn't even seen the marker since they went inside the house that first day she was marked. For all she knew, Keith threw it in the trash.
But she went through the same range of thoughts every time she looked at the bottom of that foot. She monitored the slow fading and, somewhere, deep down, expected that when the label was gone, the smell would follow.
It took about a week. The smell was gone first, but she didn't notice that... you don't always notice the absence of a smell right away. She woke up that day and blearily went to the shower, washed her body and her hair, and then, as was her new habit, braced one hand against the stall and lifted her feet to give each one an extra-good scrubbing. First her unmarked right foot, then her left. And when she did her left, she realized that the mark was gone.
She almost slipped and broke her back trying to get close enough to sniff her foot, but caught herself on the soap cubby and decided it could wait. Even if the curse wasn't broken, after a shower her feet usually smelled okay for a few minutes.
Outside the shower, her feet didn't smell like anything other than skin and soap. When she got back to her room, they still didn't smell. Her heart began a steady thump of excitement and she allowed herself to believe that maybe it really was all because of the mark. Maybe it was magic.
She put on panties and a shirt, and a fresh pair of socks, and went downstairs for breakfast, telling herself she would not smell them again for an hour. She lasted about five minutes after she ran out of cereal, then she went back upstairs, removed the socks, and inhaled deeply from each foot. Still no sign of the pungent smell she was used to.
Susan put on some music and began dancing around in her room, at first cautiously celebratory, and then she figured it might be a good way to work up a sweat, and by the end she was swept up in the pop music and having fun, until she had the automatic thought that she's grown accustomed to over the past week, "God, my feet must reek."
And then she smiled, sat on her bed, and smelled. Okay, now they did smell, a little... but just a little, and only if she got her foot close enough to her face to lick. Susan had used no baking soda, no vinegar, no perfume, had done no secondary scrubbing, and she'd been physically active in the hour or more since the shower. Any other day since the problem started, by now she'd have been able to smell it from, if not the floor, then certainly from resting one foot on the thigh of another. She knew she'd be smelling her foot all day, just to be sure, but was now ready to declare the foot-smell curse broken.
And that meant the marker WAS magic.
She had to tell somebody... but they wouldn't believe her unless she proved it, first. That could be fun... what could she write? Super strength? That might make her all muscley and ugly though. Maybe she could write "redhead" on herself and be a natural redhead for a week, instead of the plain boring brown she hated. Or just "pretty", and it wouldn't matter what color her hair was. Of course, those wouldn't necessarily prove to other people... if she went redheaded, they might think she dyed it, and if she became pretty she was worried they might not realize it was her at all.
She heard the door to the bathroom slam, and figured it must be Keith. They were the only ones home, unless Mom or Dad stayed home from work...their parents usually left before either of the two were up (at least during summer, when they frequently stayed up late and slept in). Should she ask him about the pen?
No, she decided. Not until she proved her theory. She just had to wait for him to leave, and get it out of his room. That could be a long wait, sometimes he went days without leaving the house... and worse, he usually kept to his room. But sometimes he'd go downstairs or into the basement, and that might give her a chance.
About five minutes passed before Susan realized that she was missing out on a perfect opportunity right at that moment. He'd been in the bathroom a long time, which meant he wasn't just taking a number one or number two. She opened her door and poked her head out and confirmed her guess... there was the sound of rushing water. He was in the shower, which meant Susan had free access to his room.
She bolted out of her own room, and then stopped and stood at the door of his, momentarily intimidated. The door itself wasn't scary, for all that it had a radiation warning sticker with "No Unauthorized Access - Death May Result" written underneath it. That was just a joke. But it was still an intimidating step... one of the ways to piss her brother off, really, not just for fun, was to go into his room without permission. That didn't mean she never did... Susan considered it part of a little sister's job to snoop on her big brother. How else would she understand him? He was a teenager and it seemed like his mood shifted every day and it's not like he told anybody what was going on, so snooping was the best way she had to stay close to him. But it was scary every time. What would happen, if she got caught, depended on Keith's mood. Sometimes he'd let it slide with an insulting but not seriously-meant comment... sometimes he'd scream at her and then, worse, give her the silent treatment the rest of the day.
But for the chance at something magic? It was worth the risk. All magic comes at a price, as the show said, and if Keith yelling at her was it, it was a small one. She grabbed the knob, turned, and pushed. The radiation warning might have been a joke, but Susan thought it was appropriate... it resembled a disaster area. There were clothes on the floor and tossed over chairs, crumpled up chip bags and a leaning tower of empty Coke cans on a dresser. The bed was unmade, of course, sheets and covers flung everywhere like he'd exploded out of bed... which wouldn't be that bad considering he just woke up, but it never got any better. And over all of that, there was the smell... a boy's smell, sweat and a faint whiff of something like sour milk and bleach, sort of what she'd smelled on the homeless guy. Not as bad, but Keith had no business making any jokes about her smelly feet.
The sole exception to the clutter was his drawing desk, which was kept clean except for some disordered papers and one can of Coke in a makeshift cupholder. She tiptoed around clothes, garbage, and toys in order to make her way there. Sometimes when she had more time, she'd pretend it was a minefield and the slightest misstep would get her blown up, but right then she was trying to get to her goal as quickly as possible, so she had no time for such shenanigans. Keith kept many of his sharpies in an unused coffee mug, but when she swirled them around, she soon satisfied herself that that's all they were... sharpies. No off-brand purple magic markers with too much text on them. Nor could she find what she was looking for anywhere else on the desk, like as if it had been used and carelessly left out of the cup. She did take a second to glance at what he was drawing... another comic page, this time prominently beginning with a girl with a sword leaping through the air attacking some ninjas. In subsequent panels, she'd maimed and decapitated them, although it wasn't really gory, not done in bold streaks of black against a white background. He'd need to add some red before Susan would get uncomfortable with it.
After looking one last time around the desk, just to be sure, she stood in place and surveyed the room, trying to think of where else Keith might have put the magic marker.
His drawing desk didn't have drawers, but his computer desk did. Maybe, she thought, he went right to his laptop after the day at the pool, and dropped the marker in one of those without thinking about it. She did another tiptoe dance to get there without stepping on anything gross, and began slowly, carefully pulling open the drawers. Normally the computer itself would be a huge draw in her sisterly snooping... but you can't hide a marker in a computer. Besides, most of what she'd uncovered on his computer so far had been boring. She already knew he was into weird Japanese comics, and although it was a little surprising that some of them were very dirty, she knew guys his age were into porn. And he didn't really have much real porn, either, so she assumed that he was more interested in the dirty comics as comics, as something to use as inspiration for his art, or because he liked the story, or just because he liked gross-out stuff. He seemed to be particularly fond of some character or series called "Loli" that was apparently big in Japan, a lot of comics that were labeled with that name... she didn't read much of them, a lot of them weren't even translated, and those that were, were hard to follow. Mostly she had been disappointed with computer-snooping... she hadn't found what she was looking for, a juicy online diary that might reveal a girl he had a crush on, or secret plans he had with his friends. She might have better luck with his phone, but he usually kept that on him, and it was harder to get unmonitored time with it... even though she already knew his unlock pattern from watching him use it.
That was a project for later, though. Now, she was hunting magic markers. But her casual search of the drawers came up with nothing... there was a lot of random junk, and it was possible she might have missed something buried within, but she could spend forever searching them, and she didn't think she had more than a few minutes. After a quick rummaging through each one, she abandoned them and tried to look for another place he might have put it.
The garbage pail was an option, though it would have saddened her if he just tossed away the gift that she had gone through so much guilt to give him. The pail was filled, but mostly with tissues... she didn't want to touch them directly, but got a ruler, edged with black, from his desk, and pushed them aside. Her heart leapt as she saw a marker, but it was only a split second later that she realized it was another Sharpie, probably dead.
Where else, she wondered. Her eyes fell on his hamper. Maybe he put it in his pocket, and never took it out. It had been a week, but... sometimes Keith wore the same pants a couple days in a row. There was a chance. She went for it, looked inside... there were only, at most, two pairs of pants in there... she knew he'd worn at least three pair since the day they went to the pool.
Susan turned away, and then returned, remembering an incongruous flash of pink. She dug into the hamper and came back with a surprise... a pair of her own panties, one of her favorites, pink with a pixie on it, from Disney's Pixie Hollow, not Tinker Bell. She held the underwear up to the light, shaking her head at the mystery of it, and then decided what must have happened. It must have gotten mixed up in the wash, and, instead of delivering them to her, he just threw it in the hamper, figuring he'd leave it back down there next time he did laundry. He was so lazy sometimes. She thought about taking them back, but... that would reveal she was in his room, if he remembered and noticed it. Besides, it seemed to have absorbed some of the smell of his room. So she put it back, and half covered it again with the topmost layer of pants, and then looked around again.
She embarked on a half-hearted inspection of one of his nearby shelves, standing on her tiptoes, before mentally complaining about how impossible it is to find anything in the mess. After all, there were clothes everywhere...
She lightly smacked her forehead. There were clothes everywhere... how stupid was she to assume that all of Keith's clothes were in the hamper? There could easily be a week's worth of pants there in the room. First she checked the ones in the hamper again, just quickly feeling to make sure there was nothing long and solid in the pockets. After ruling them out, she felt up a pair she'd spotted on the ground, probably tossed towards the hamper, but that didn't make it. No luck in either case.
She crawled over Keith's bed on her hands and knees, and spotted a pair on the ground on the other side. She reached down and patted it.
"What are you doing?"
Susan gulped at the sound of her brother's voice, pulled her head back up above the surface of the bed, and turned to look at him. He was dressed only in boxers, absently rubbing a towel through his hair that was usually dark brown but, when wet, just like hers, now looked nearly jet black. But in his case, the look really worked for him. He actually looked pretty hot all around... she knew she wasn't supposed to think that about her brother, but she told herself that she was only recognizing that other girls would surely think that. And did. Some of her friends had even mentioned he was cute, and a few had admitted to crushes, which always infuriated and terrified her for some reason she couldn't name, but, when she was alone, she could see what they were talking about. Slim, no visible hair on his chest, but he had some lean muscle on his arms, and he either didn't have a belly or was sucking in his gut.
She flushed red, more at being caught than seeing her brother like that... he often went around without a shirt when nobody was visiting. At least, right now, he didn't seem mad, he was just staring at her with a blank look. Maybe he was a little embarrassed at seeing her panty-covered butt waving around in the air while she checked the pants. Or maybe she caught him in a good mood. "I was looking for the marker." She brushed one of her bangs out of her eyes.
He went to his drawing desk and got a Sharpie, while Susan turned around and sat on the edge of his bed, trying, unsuccessfully, to look like she wasn't doing anything wrong. "If you want a marker, you can ask, don't go looking through my room..."
She grimaced at the Sharpie. "Not this marker, the one I gave you last week."
"What's the difference?"
"I... I can't tell you, I just need it, okay?"
Keith rolled his eyes. "Fine, then I can't help you."
"Please? I just need to use it for a little bit."
"I don't even know where it is. Now get out of my room, you little brat." He tossed the towel at her, catching her in the face and reflexively upraised hands, but it was light, so no harm was done, Susan just batted it away and then, in a huff, retreated to her room.
She flounced onto her bed and lay there, arms forming a makeshift pillow because she fell on the bed sideways and her real pillows were out of reach. Keith probably threw it out, she decided. And Mom must have emptied the trash. It just figured, she finally discovers real magic only for it to be lost forever. It wasn't all bad news, she finally decided after a minute or two of moping. At least her feet didn't stink. She could go out with her friends again, go swimming again... being a normal girl may not be as cool as having a magic marker, but it was a lot more fun than being magically cursed.
She flinched as something unexpected tapped her shoulder. She turned, and there was nothing... then she turned the other direction, and there was Keith, still in just his boxers. He always did that, tapped her on one shoulder and then be out of sight in the other direction. "What do you want?" Susan asked sullenly, certain that he'd decided to go yell at her after all, but then noticed what he was holding in his hand, and what he must have used to tap her.
"I found the stupid marker you wanted."
Susan's face glowed with a surprised smile. She rolled over and sat up, then extended her arms outward. "Gimme!" It wasn't the most polite request, but after getting her hopes dashed she was too excited to worry about manners.
He held it far over her head. "Why should I?" he asked. "Maybe I would have if you'd asked, but since you snuck into my room like a dirty little rat, maybe I won't."
"No fair! I found it!" she whined.
"And then you gave it to me. So it's mine. And maybe I'll just decide to throw MY marker in the Fitchs' backyard... see if I get lucky and it hits a pile of dog poop."
Something in the way he grinned made her think he was actually capable of doing it, and she did not want to fend off the neighbor's dog trying to find the marker if he went through with his threat. So she tried pleading. Susan tilted her head, opened her eyes as wide as she could, and said, "Come on, Keith! Please?"
"First tell me why you want it."
She let out a breath, having expected that to be part of the price. "You'll laugh at me."
"Probably, but I could use a good laugh."
She couldn't see any way out of it, so screwed up her courage and said, "I think it's magic."
He did laugh, then, a nervous sort, like he wasn't sure what he heard but knew it was ridiculous. "What?"
There was no backing out now. "When you used it to write my feet were stinky, my feet started stinking," she said. Now she lifted the foot to show him the mark was gone. "And now that it's gone, they don't smell anymore. I think what you write with it actually happens."
"You're forgetting one important point..." she waited. "Your feet still smell."
Susan's face fell in a flash. "They do?" she asked, panicked. Could she have been fooling herself all along? She lifted the foot to up to try and smell it again.
Keith burst out laughing. "You are so easy." She glared at him, and let her foot return to the ground once more. "Okay, fine, they don't smell. No more than usual, anyway. But that's just a coincidence."
"How else can you explain it? Why did it start when you wrote it and stopped when it was gone?"
"That's what coincidence is. Maybe the marker's ink caused the smell or something..."
"But both feet smelled."
He grinned. "Well, that just proves my point. I only wrote it on one, and they both smelled, so..."
"You wrote 'stinky feet', not 'stinky foot'. Since you wrote 'feet', if it was magic, it would make both smell."
He sat down beside her. "Or, the far more likely scenario, it didn't do anything at all. Maybe you picked up some kind of foot infection from the pool that made your feet smell... and it just lasted about the same amount of time that the mark did. These things normally last about a week."
That did seem to make a depressing amount of sense to Susan. It was the way it always was, she'd think something was magic, and then it'd turn out to have a normal explanation. And often it was her big brother proving it to her... like when he showed her YouTube videos that showed exactly how a magician did a magic trick that wowed her. "Maybe," she admitted.
"Besides look at this thing." He held up the marker. "It's not a wand, or a bubbling potion, it's a cheap-ass plastic marker, probably made in China or something. You actually believe that THIS is magic?" He shook his head. "God, you're so stupid sometimes, Suze..."
She sucked in her breath. "Don't call me stupid!" She hated that... too many people made fun of her for being stupid, even though she got high marks, because she had a problem reading and writing. Not that she couldn't do it... she not only had a great vocabulary for her age (supplemented by flipping through dictionaries looking for words she didn't know), but also read books that were officially too advanced for her... she'd even snuck into her Mom's bathroom to read her Fifty Shades of Grey book sometimes, although she didn't really understand what the appeal was... the Christian guy seemed like a creepy jerk. The problem that got her called 'stupid' was that her brain sometimes got mixed up with letters and words.
One of her teachers said it was probably a very mild dyslexia (funnily enough, a word she never had trouble with), but it wasn't that the words squiggled around like she'd normally heard it described... it felt more like her mind worked too fast and jumped ahead... sometimes to the wrong conclusion. Sometimes... not always, but sometimes (and usually with longer words), she'd mix up letters, or drop or add letters, and write, type, or think she read, a different word. It was still a word, usually (although sometimes she put her "e" before "i" when she shouldn't, or vice versa, and made a genuine mistake), just the wrong word, and she wouldn't notice until it was too late.
Others noticed, though, whenever she had to read in class, or write something on the board. If she took her time, she could always sort it out, but stress made it happen more often, and it was more stressful when the kids were ready to laugh at her or call her stupid. That always turned her red-faced and made her more likely to make more mistakes. And worse, they'd often make fun of her for wanting to be a writer when she, according to them, couldn't spell. As if that was a big factor. She clung to the fact her teacher told her (the same one that suggested she had a mild dyslexia), that lots of writers were terrible spellers. She couldn't remember most of the examples, but she remembered Jane Austen was one of them, and she was one of the most famous women authors in history. "That's what editors are for," the teacher said, and Susan would use the same phrase when people suggested she couldn't write because of her problem.
But having a good reply didn't make the insults hurt less... they still stung, partly because, deep down, she thought maybe there was a grain of truth to them. She might think 'stupid' was unfair, even though she called herself that when she made a mistake, but she really didn't feel smart, either, despite those generally good grades and that big vocabulary. People, even people her own age, called her naive, or acted like she was, when she said things that made perfect sense to her. And naive was just a kinder way of calling somebody ignorant, but with potential to learn. If she was more naive then her classmates, maybe she really was less smart than them, and just happened to be good at taking tests and doing homework. And if she didn't have smarts, and, in her eyes, wasn't especially pretty, then there was nothing really special about her at all. Sooner or later she was afraid people would figure that out and then have no reason to be around her. That was why hearing the 'stupid' label from her brother was especially painful. Worse, he didn't even seem to notice, he just thought he was teasing her in the fun way they sometimes did to each other. Like now, he had a grin on his face, oblivious to her hurt. "Well, stop being stupid and I'll stop calling you stupid. I mean, Jesus, Suze... a magic marker?"
"There's no reason a marker COULDN'T be magic," she said, but it sounded weak even to her.
"Except, a) it's a MARKER, and b) magic isn't real, stupid." He rolled his eyes, and held the marker towards her. "Here. You're welcome to play with it, but... try not to be so stupid."
That was at least four times he called her stupid, and now anger was beginning to win out over hurt. What a jerk! He didn't know what he was talking about... if Keith didn't believe in magic how could he know anything about how it worked? And he didn't even know about her ultimate piece of evidence... that the marker belonged to the homeless guy. Why would he write all or himself if it didn't do anything? She grabbed the marker out of his hand, uncapped it, and held it up threateningly. "If it doesn't do anything, then you won't mind if I write something on you."
He did draw back from her, then. "Hey, I don't want crap written on me," he said.
"You wrote on me."
To her surprise, he mulled over the thought and shrugged. "Okay, as long as it's somewhere I can cover up." He was already shirtless, so he pointed to his peck, an inch above his nipple. "Here, it'll be like a tattoo. Make sure it's something cool."
Of course, right at that moment, Susan's mind went blank, all the ideas she had for what you could do with a magic marker were gone. "I don't know what to write."
"How about 'I have a stupid sister'," he suggested with a smirk. "Oh, no, wait, that one's already true."
She pounded him in the shoulder with her empty hand, and the rage returned, and she got a sudden idea about what to write, even though she would later come to realize how stupid it really was, come to mark it as the second mistake that started the story that changed the course of her life... because what she wrote wasn't something she wanted to happen, it was just the first word that came to mind. Immediately after the half-hearted punch, which Keith didn't even really react to except to flinch away briefly, Susan used that shoulder as a hand hold, leaned out over him, and began to write in crisp dark letters on his peck.
The two mistakes Susan made were the background to the story, important, but a story always truly begins with the first word, and she wrote the one that would begin hers on her brother. "J.... E... R... K...."
Keith was looking up and away while she wrote, just passively accepting it, and then, as she backed off to admire her handiwork, he finally looked down... and something in his eyes seemed to be different, there was no longer a little glint of amusement. His chin dipped to his chest to better read was Susan had written, and he wrinkled his nose. "Oh, a jerk, am I?"
She tried to pull away, but he grabbed her arm... tightly, squeezing almost hard enough to hurt, and certainly hard enough that she dropped the marker. "What are you doing?"
"I guess I'm being a jerk," he said. "That's what your stupid marker does, doesn't it? Makes what you wrote true?"
Susan swallowed, not knowing what to say, hoping for once that she was wrong, that the marker wasn't magic. Surprisingly, he let her arm go. She rubbed it with her other hand, and said, "I'm sorry..."
"No you aren't... but you will be."
Susan leapt to her feet and darted for the door, but before she got two steps out of her room, Keith caught up to her, wrapped his arms around her in a bearhug, and lifted her off into the air. He's just playing, she told herself. And indeed, this time, he wasn't squeezing her so hard that he hurt her, he was just restraining her while he walked her back to her bed, where he did something like a bellyflop, his weight pressing her face down into her comforter. That didn't hurt either, but it was uncomfortable, oppressive.
It relented, a little, as he worked his hands out from under her, pulling her shirt up a little in the process, and pushed himself into a sitting position. Her legs were still pinned by his, though, and they quickly straddled her, his bare knees pushing her bare legs together, then before she could move she felt his hand on her head, pushing her face back down towards the bed.
She did what she could to fight him off, but not too seriously... she didn't want to hurt him, and even if he was a jerk, he'd been a jerk before, for short periods, and never really hurt her. A week of this couldn't be that much worse than when he was thirteen and yelling at her every other minute.
Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw him reaching for the marker. "Now I think it's my turn to write something on you again." Susan squirmed, but to no effect. "Maybe I'll give you a nice big old tramp stamp here." The edge of the pen made a trail around the small of her back. "But what should it say?" He didn't wait for her to try to give an answer, just continued, "Well, since you're stupid enough to believe in magic, maybe I'll just write 'stupid' on you."
For the first time, she was really scared. Because if the pen was magic, that would mean a week of actually being stupid. "No, please..." she said. "You can't."
"I can't?" The marker pressed into her flesh again, but it was the end, not the tip. "I'm pretty sure I can."
"Please," she said again, tears coming out along with the words. "I didn't mean to write 'jerk', but now it made you into one..."
"Unbelievable, you still believe it? You really are stupid. You deserve the label. Maybe I'll show you after all..."
"I don't wanna be stupid," she cried. "Please, I'll do anything... just don't write 'stupid'."
"Anything, huh?" He was silent for a few seconds, like he was considering her proposal. "You must really believe it. But now I've gotta walk around with jerk on my chest, so you must be punished. Maybe I should give you a spanking."
Susan took a breath and considered this. Right now, he was a jerk... so a spanking might hurt more than usual, but she didn't think her brother would be cruel. The word jerk usually meant, to her, selfish and insensitive, but not outright mean. She thought she could take it. It was better than being stupid for a week. "Okay," she said through gritted teeth. "Just don't get too hard."
The hand restraining her retreated, but she didn't try to get up. Instead, she closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, waiting for a whap... and was totally unprepared for the sensation of her panties being tugged down. She'd assumed Keith would spank her on her covered butt... nobody had ever spanked her bare bottom before. Even the thought that he was seeing it caused her to blush and now want to hide her face in the bedspread. Maybe this was a jerk thing... humiliation would fit a jerk more than additional pain. Well, she could bear that.
"You got a cute butt," he said, which, bizarrely, made Susan proud. It was better than having an ugly butt. "Shame to have to make it all red. But you're never going to learn if I don't." His hand landed across her cheeks, making her flinch, even though he used no force at all. It just lay there. Then seemed to squeeze a little, before raising... and this time, it came down in a hard smack.
Susan yelped in pain but grit her teeth. It stung like hell, but... she'd had worse from Dad, on the few occasions he'd spanked her. Their parents had a policy of spanking only when it was disobedience combined with danger... just having an attitude or refusing to do chores or saying a bad word wasn't worth a spanking, but if Susan lied about where she was when she was going out, or gave out her real name to a stranger online, that was both disobedient and dangerous, and was worth a spanking, almost always administered by Dad, only to make sure she remembered the lesson and never did something so reckless again.
Keith gave three spankings, each landing on one cheek, and each one, the hand lingered on her behind after, rubbing it, like he felt guilty over what he was doing and trying to sooth her injured skin. That knowledge was reassuring, and made Susan wonder again if she'd been wrong about the marker... maybe she didn't turn him into a jerk, maybe he was just in a bad mood.
That fantasy disappeared when he leaned forward on her, almost lying on top of her, which would be sexual if there wasn't a pair of boxers in the way, and still made her nervous, particularly as she felt some kind of bouncing, cloth-covered lump graze against her skin. But what was really scary was when he whispered in her ear, "You still believe this thing is magic?" he asked. She made a noise that wasn't really clear, because in her head, she wasn't really sure, but he must have taken it for a yes, because he said, "I guess I'm going to have to prove it to you. Time for your tramp stamp."
"No," she said again. "I said you could spank me, that's not fair." She pushed away, but as Keith fell back, upright on his knees, the hand came back, pinning her head to the bed once more. "It's not fair."
"I guess I'm just a jerk," he said, and she could hear, but not see, the grin in his voice. "But I'm not going to break my word. I won't write 'stupid'. Unless maybe you keep squirming."
Susan decided to go limp... better not to fight it. "Okay," she said, trying to appease him not just with her posture but with a hopeful voice. "Write something good, though. Not mean."
She felt the tip against the skin of her bare back, writing letters. The first, she thought was an 'S', and she was afraid he'd just lied to her, but the second wasn't a T... it was hard to tell, it might have been a 'U' or an 'O'. After that, she couldn't figure out... her nerves were making it hard to concentrate. "There we go..." Keith said.
It took about thirty seconds, at least before Susan was really aware of any change. It might have started before that, but it crept up on her, until suddenly she realized she was feeling hot, and a little bit dizzy, and her stomach was jumping like she was about to have to read in front of her class at school. It was a little like being sick, although, with a difference. When she was sick, she always felt down, sluggish, like she didn't want to move. This was almost the opposite, she felt alive, like her skin was electric... almost itchy, although not quite. It even felt good, in the way that running downhill does... you know you can't keep it up forever, but for a while it's a pleasant rush. "What... what did you do?" she asked, feeling a little breathless.
"You tell me. If it's a magic marker, shouldn't you know what I wrote?" He sounded smug, like this would prove his point.
"I don't know... you did something... I feel... weird." She shivered, despite the hot feeling, and then squirmed... her body just wanted to move, and, when it did, she noticed another effect. When her legs brushed just a little closer together, the tension in her stomach relieved a little, and it felt good. That made her squeeze her thighs deliberately, to repeat the sensation, and do it again and again, whereupon another symptom appeared... between her legs it was quickly becoming moist, like shy had a runny nose, except in her private parts. "Did you make me sick?" she asked. Was she going to have to suffer through some obscure disease for a week? Even if it felt good originally, now it was starting to feel a little uncomfortable, mixed in with the pleasant aliveness.
"If you're feeling sick, it's not my fault..." One of his hands went to the small of her back, like he was touching the words he wrote... and it was like he was slightly electrified. It didn't hurt... quite the opposite, in fact, his touch intensified the good feeling... but she felt like what she always imagined it would be like to be electrocuted... her body seemed to move on its own accord, arching up to meet him, like it wanted to get as much of her body in contact with him as possible, and her conscious thoughts, even if she might have agreed, simply didn't matter.
The hand didn't stay on the place where he wrote, it slid up, under her shirt, giving tingles everywhere it went and leaving behind a vacuum of want. A little murmur, half-enjoyment, half-complaint, escaped her lips to give voice to both parts of her.
"You like that, huh?" Keith asked, and finally climbed off her legs, giving her freedom to move, but all that she wanted right then was for his hand to return. "Turn over." She complied instantly, lying on her back, and the hand she craved did return, on her belly this time, an area she hadn't realized was so neglected, and the excitement seemed to ramp up every time the swirling caress dipper a little lower. Her knees bent and spread at the same time, so that the soles of her feet could almost touch, a part of her hoping it would entice her brother to go lower. Instead, though, he went higher, under the shirt, his fingertips brushing the breastbone. "Take your shirt off, Susan." She stared at him for a second, and he added, "Don't worry, it's not like you even have boobs to look at."
But Susan wasn't even worried about that, not really. Somewhere, deep down, she knew she should be... that this was crossing a line that shouldn't be crossed by any guy at her age, much less a brother... but she also didn't care. She wanted to take her shirt off, the heat welling up in her body practically demanded she do so. The only hesitation was that she wasn't sure she'd heard him right, because he'd never said anything like that before.
Now that she was sure, she pulled one arm into her sleeve, and then the other, and pulled her head out last, removing the whole thing at once. Her brother stared down at her with a hungry look in his eyes, and then one finger traced a faint line in the center of her chest, a slight depression between the two sides of her body. "Looks like you're going to have big boobs eventually, though," Keith said.
She spoke for the first time since he'd started touching her, and her mouth felt so dry, she had to suck on her tongue just to get the saliva to produce one word. "Really?"
Keith nodded, and then moved to the side, to squeeze her boob, or where her boob would one day be, but the little bit of flesh that was there felt very, very good when it was squeezed. Maybe that was one of the early stages of growth. "Look at that," he said. "Your nipples are like so hard." And then, without any other warning, he pinched them.
Squeezing her breast felt good, and all of his touches had a tingly electric feeling, but this was another level altogether... like she'd just grabbed an electric fence. Except again it didn't hurt... even the squeeze around her surprisingly hard and pointy nipple wasn't enough to do that... but somehow the contact made her entire body tense up, and she couldn't help but gasp, and her mind was almost blank with pleasure. The touches that followed, and there were several, never quite matched that first one, but the sensations were still intense and provoked movements and sounds that she couldn't control, almost like she was a puppet and he was pulling on random strings. He would run his thumb over the raised point, flicking it back and she would twitch and her mouth would open. He'd roll a nipple between thumb and index finger and her legs would shake and she'd wince, despite not feeling pain. And even when there was pain, when he actually pulled the nipples... it only hurt a little, but pain never felt so good. "Stop it," she whispered, but the dark truth was, she didn't want him to stop, she wanted him to continue and see how far the weird sensations would drive her, and when his hand did pull away, she was disappointed.
"Shit," he said, but he said it like he was awed, not angry, and she followed his gaze down to her panties. He touched her down there, cupping the front of her panties, making Susan jump again and also making her extra aware of exactly how liquid had been dripping out of her, as the soggy panties rubbed against skin. "Look how wet you're getting."
"What did you write?" she asked again.
"Don't pretend you don't know," he said. "It's like that game we used to play, where I write on your back, and you guess what it was?" They hadn't played that in a long time. "You knew what I wrote..."
"I did not..." she whined, and the whine was partly because she wanted him to touch her again. After that first cupping, he'd pulled his hand away.
"Sure you did. And that's why you started acting like this. Either you're faking, or, it's, you know, psychosemantic."
"Somatic," she corrected. She might not be able to spell it, especially right now when she was so distracted and unable to focus on anything but the yearning all over her body, but she knew the word and how to pronounce it. Keith shrugged, not caring about the difference. "And I don't know what it was, it was long."
He rolled his eyes. "Fine, if you want to play dumb, go look." He stuck a thumb out towards her closet. On the partly open inner door was the mirror Susan used for whenever she was getting dressed. She gave one look in that direction, then climbed out of bed on wobbly legs, and opened the door as wide as it could go. She looked at her front, first, noticing the flush, especially around her face and neck, and consciously realizing again how she was topless in front of her brother. But that wasn't important... what was written, was... she turned around, and tried to read the words on the small of her back over her shoulder.
Reading in a mirror wasn't hard, but it took a little more time and effort, and she did it aloud. "Super," that one was easy (because Suqer wasn't a word at all), "... Horny."
She looked up at her brother with astonishment. "You made me horny?" So that's what that was. She'd never been horny before, or at least not... super horny. Maybe she'd been a little horny, but without realizing that's what it was... she always just thought of it as 'antsy', full of nervous energy. And the extreme wetness coming from her privates, that was a new development.
Keith grinned. "No, dummy, I told you. Magic isn't real. I didn't do anything to you. You made yourself horny."
"I didn't know what you wrote!"
"You did so, subconsciously. Or I don't know, maybe it's just cause you think you made me a jerk, and, like most girls, you get hot for a jerk." He shrugged. "Either way, it's not my fault. It's your problem, you solve it."
"How?" Teenage boys were supposed to be super horny all the time, she'd heard, and wondered, was this how Keith felt all the time? If so, she didn't know how he could stand it. "What am I supposed to do?" Those times when she was antsy, sometimes she'd squeeze her thighs together for a while, which felt good, but eventually the feeling went away on its own. Now, she wasn't just squeezing, she was squeezing, and hopping, and shaking her fingers, like the only thing she could think to do was move as much of herself as possible and hope it got rid of some of the extra energy.
"I COULD help you, if I wanted to," he said, carefully inspecting his fingernails like he didn't give a damn one way or the other. "Maybe if you asked me really nicely."
Susan clenched her fists, and her thighs, at the same time, while she tried to think... though thinking was difficult with all these feelings. She knew you could get rid of horniness through sex... was that what he was offering? Sex with her brother? The thought caused a little unexpected spasm of pleasure in her heart. Or maybe it was masturbation... she knew in theory how it worked, but not how to do it properly. And maybe it wouldn't work as well as the other option. She might HAVE to do it, have sex, just to get rid of the feeling. "You'd have to... have to...." She couldn't say the word, the f-word, so she said, "Touch me?" Sex was a form of touching, right?
Keith scoffed. "Yeah, as if I'd want to touch you." Her spirits fell, but the anxious feeling persisted. "But I can take away the feeling without touching you, if you ask nicely, and promise not to tell anybody."
She jumped at the chance. "Okay," she said. "I promise, please, please, please help me."
"Okay, get on the bed." She ran to it, and scrambled on top, but as she started to turn over, he said, "No, on your hands and knees."
"Okay," she said, and held the pose, looking up to him, expectantly.
He sidled up close to her, letting his legs hang off the bed, closer to her rear end than her face. "Pull your panties down," he said. Supporting herself on one arm, she struggled to pull down the underwear. It took several attempts to get it off her ass, and then it fell down to her thighs. She jiggled her legs so that it would slip all the way down to her knees, figuring that was good enough, she was as good as naked. If he wanted the panties all the way off, he'd surely tell her.
He didn't. Instead, he leaned towards her lower body, and just looked at her, her bare butt, but probably more, he could probably see her vagina, the private place nobody was supposed to see except maybe a doctor, and certainly not while it was hot and dripping. She'd been looking over her shoulder, but she put her head down and looked up at herself between her arms and legs. Not just hot, reddish, and puffed up, and yes, wet, she saw a drip of liquid fall from her and onto her bedspread. She hoped it wouldn't stain, or it was going to look like one version of Winnie the Pooh's Piglet had a birthmark on his face.
"It's kind of funny, you think the magic marker turned you on, when actually it's going to get you off."
"Huh?" Was he going to undo it somehow? Write 'Not' above 'Super Horny'? Would that work? And if it did, why would he need to see her naked to do it?
"See, when a girl's horny, she needs something to play with her pussy." He ran the end of the marker along the lips of her pussy, making Susan shudder and squeeze her eyes closed. The sensations continued, as the marker slid up and down, occasionally grazing a certain spot where it was like an explosion of sensations (including, a little, pain) that blotted out everything else, but more often every movement just felt incredibly pleasurable. At one point, it slipped in the crack, outside the hole, and below the nub that caused the head-explosions, and she tried to squeeze on it with those lips, trying to hold onto it with muscles she was barely aware she had. "And it helps when it's long and hard. That feel good?" She nodded. "I can't hear you."
"Yes," she said, breathing in for the first time in a long time, and she hadn't even realized she'd been holding her breath. "Yes. It feels... too good." She didn't know there was such a thing as that, 'too good,' until now, when she felt she'd lose herself, like her very body was betraying her to get more of it. This, she had a sudden thought, this is how people get addicted to drugs. This wasn't a drug, but she thought she understood now how people could want something so much that they stole from their family to get more. Her body was feeling weak, and in fact, she couldn't hold her front half by her arms anymore... it had collapsed into her bedspread... but her bent knees still kept her ass and vagina up and accessible.
"Oh, you think it feels TOO good, huh? Well, you ain't seen nothing yet." The slow sawing of the marker through her crack picked up the pace, and it started probing at the hole. "Cause when you've got something... something long and hard, that fits inside you... it's time to go in. Are you ready?" She made a noise, but it wasn't an answer to the question, it was just a reaction to the action of the marker. How could she answer that question... how does a girl know if she's ready for a thing like that? All she knew is that what was happening so far felt so good. He must have taken it for a yes, though, because she felt the tip probe the hole again, and this time started to slide inside with a steady but unstoppable force.
"Ow," she yelped, and then let out a even less articulate cry of pain, as the pen seemed to hit some obstruction inside of her... and blew on past it. At first it felt like intense pressure, followed by a sudden a hard pinch, deep inside her, and almost before she was even able to react to that, it was followed up by a sensation like a popping inside of her, the obstruction gone, and a deeper pain, like something had been wrenched out of place and torn.
"What?" Keith asked, sounding annoyed that she'd felt pain rather than worried that he hurt her. "Don't be such a baby." He did, however, pull out the marker, and inspected it, then announced, "Oh, that's just your cherry getting broken. Don't worry, you don't need it." And then he pushed inside her again.
There were tears in her eyes, but more shocking was to realize that she was actually relieved when he put it inside her again... and there was pain, again, although not as intense or acute, and the horny feeling was overpowering the pain anyway. If she had to take the pain to get the pleasure, she would. It was like an ice cream headache, she decided... even if she knew it was coming, and she'd rather not have one, she wasn't going to stop eating ice cream because of it. Even weirder was that, in this case, the pain itself had started to feel a bizarre kind of good. It was like that feeling where you probed at a previous wound that had turned into a bruise. It hurt, but you found yourself testing it anyway, just to feel how much, to see not only how it was healing, but how well you could handle the hurt, feel a little stronger just for taking it. Also, the pain reminded her she was alive, and this wasn't some strange dream.
The pain was fading, though... not completely, but just to a dull background noise. She almost missed it, in addition to making her feel stronger, it was like it was something solid to hold on to while her heart seemed to want to grow wings and fly her away from everything she'd ever known... but she soon forgot that feeling, as the marker began thrusting in and out and, occasionally, taking a sudden, unexpected tilt to the side, making her feel like it had become so much larger and bringing that craved-for pain back. Soon, the sensations became all she could focus on, just waves, coming and going, and she was rising and falling on top of them, and at the peak of each wave, that heart seemed to take a jump and see if, from this height, maybe it really could fly. That's what it was like in Peter Pan, one really good happy thought, and people fly. Although she wasn't sure, feeling the way she was, if her heart would take her with her or just go off on its own.
It wasn't just her heart that was acting up and out of control, though, her whole body was involved, like every inch of her body was betraying her, beyond just the rebellion of feeling so good. She felt like a puppet, and somebody else was controlling her, not well, but irresistible... here and there she'd buck and writhe, without conscious thought, and her pussy had started constantly clenching around the marker, trying to pull it back inside of her, and then there were the moans. It wasn't Keith controlling her, at least not directly. It was the pleasure. Now every move her body made seemed dedicated to increasing the pleasure, to making those waves as high as they could go... her body didn't know exactly how to do this, which movements made it better, whether a moan or clenched eyelids intensified the pleasure or cut it down a notch, it was learning through trial and error. And sometimes what it learned changed moment-to-moment, where before a breathy gasp felt like the absolute right thing to do, now holding her breath seemed more right, but gradually, those peaks were getting higher and higher...
...and then it came, a moment that washed out everything. As the magic marker worked it's very different kind of magic, the pleasure was gradually crowding out her self-awareness, and then, in one moment, it was gone entirely, all she was, was pleasure. It was like a white noise that wasn't actually white, or actually noise, but it was everywhere...
...and then it was gone, and Susan found herself at the tail end of a scream. She let it die out, and then took a series of sharp breaths, feeding a body that seemed at once starved and also content... the antsy feeling was gone, mostly, and her body was still shaking, but this time it was like a muscle that had been flexed for too long... and the legs, keeping her butt in the air, shaking like they were going to fall at any moment.
When Keith finally pulled the marker out, they did just that, and her lower half tipped over on its side, and, her mind still rattling over what had just happened, she looked up at her brother. "Wha..." She needed at least one more breath. "What was that?"
"Your first orgasm," he said casually, and then wiped the pen on her bedspread, leaving a red mark... now in addition to a birthmarked-Piglet, there was a bloody Pooh, what was once an innocent scene of two best friends now sinister, like something out of a horror movie, where Pooh was a zombie and attacking his friend. "You know, you could say 'Thank you.'"
"Thank you," she gasped, and although she was obscenely grateful for the chance to feel that much pleasure, it was more an automatic response than something she thought out... like she still didn't know what to do with her body anymore, and so the first time somebody told her to do something, she jumped at the chance. If he told her she should sung the alphabet, she'd have tried that, too.
"You're welcome," he said, "Happy to break you in." He slapped her ass playfully, and then drew the cheek to the side to look at her butt, inside the crack. "You know, while I'm here, I might as well break in another hole..."
He leaned over her, and Susan's weary heart kicked into high gear again, this time in fear. "What?"
"Well, guys are going to want up here, too, so you should get some practice." He still had the magic marker in his hand, and he drew it in close to her butt. The still slightly slick stick slid along one side of her inner cheek, and poked at the tender ring.
The contact made Susan instantly clench up, and when he continued pushing, it hurt... and not the good hurt she felt when it was inside her pussy, this was like a something trying to poke through her skin. And she couldn't imagine anybody wanting to stick things up their butt. "No, don't," she cried, trying to pull away. "It's gonna hurt."
"Only if you don't relax." He sounded annoyed at her, but he did pull away... for a second. "Hey, you still think this is a magic marker, right?"
Sensing a trap, she still nodded. After all, he wrote that she was horny, and she became horny. Still was, just not as much... that orgasm wiped her out, but she could feel that butterflies-in-the-stomach feeling welling up again, quieter than the first time, but more than she ever was before he wrote on her.
"Then look." Keith stuck the cap of the marker in his mouth, seemingly unconcerned that it was just covered in the liquid that was dripping out of her pussy, then pulled the rest of it free. The cap he held between his lips, moving it to the side of his mouth like it was some kind of stubby cigar, and he started writing on her ass cheek. "Loves..." he began, the words sounding a little weird but still clear despite holding something in his mouth. He wrote one word, and then when he completed the second and third, he finished, "... anal... stuff." He popped the marker back into its cap, pressed until it clicked in place, and then pulled both out and advanced again. "Now either we'll prove this isn't magic, or you're going to convince yourself you like it."
Susan still tensed up as she felt the marker approach the tight little butthole, wondering if maybe she was somehow wrong about the writing... if she loved it, shouldn't she want it, not be scared? But then, as it got closer, she realized... she did want it. She was still scared, but the idea of her brother pushing something up there... was exciting. In fact, the thought of it was making her slick again, making the anxious, antsy feeling that had so recently quieted build. And, as it pushed against the tight ring of muscle... instead of feeling like someone was trying to poke something through her skin, it felt more like some weird kind of massage, a bit of pressure, maybe a hint of pain, followed by a wonderful relaxing as the muscles gave way. They allowed the marker to enter, and she grunted. It felt so unnatural, something going in... but unnaturally good. And bad, in a way... because it was just so... naughty. So was what Keith was doing before, but this took it to a whole other level, going up her butt. She decided that she did, in fact love the feeling. Strange, sure, and she still had a fear that it would hurt at any moment, but until it did... she wanted more. She pushed back into the marker, or tried to... Keith's hand on her ass made it hard to move very far. Instead, she clenched her buttocks as much as she could, not trapping the marker, but almost the opposite, drawing it inside of her.
Keith had been going slow, but soon it was as far as he was willing to put it, and so he started pulling it out. Susan let out a little whiney moan, protesting, until she realized that also felt good. Like, as strange as it sounded, taking a really good poo. And the same instinctive movements that seemed to suck the marker in seemed to go to work helping pushing it out, too... like it didn't matter which way it was going, her body just wanted to help. Sending it out seemed a little more natural, but as it was leaving she wanted it back in. "Yeah, you look like you've got a good career in porn ahead of you," Keith said. "You could be a star on Anal Whores Dot Com."
The thought ran through her mind, even more deliciously naughty than a marker pen running up her ass. She wasn't as knowledgeable about the whole 'sex' thing as some of her friends, but she knew the basics, and knew that sometimes guys stuck their penis in a girl's ass. She never understood, before, how could that be appealing, either for the guy or the girl. Now, she definitely could see it from the girl's side, how good it might feel, the wrong kind of good, and began to imagine that the marker Keith was working inside her again was actually a penis... his penis, in fact. That made the thought even more wrong, which, in this state of mind, was even better. One of his hands was still on her butt cheek, holding her steady and open, and, subtly, massaging the flesh there, and that was almost as pleasurable as being penetrated. So the thought of him sticking his penis in her--an object with qualities she could only imagine, but she was a writer and her imagination was powerful--that kicked the feeling, the horniness she was becoming familiar with, into high gear. As did the thought of doing it on camera, for a porn site, not as an adult, eventually, but as she was now, which would most certainly make it illegal... but what was happening now was probably illegal, too. She was being molested. At least, that's what others would call it, but the word didn't feel right to her. 'Molested' sounded like something painful, traumatic, and this... it felt so fucking good. Even the swear word burst through her normally reserved mind. Swearing, even in her thoughts, always felt a little dirty, which isn't to say she didn't do it, or do it aloud among friends to fit in, but it was with the feeling, deep down, that she shouldn't be doing it. Now, that feeling had become so ubiquitous and so overshadowed by the pleasure that she barely even noticed anymore, thinking the word was a liberation... she was being molested (for lack of a better word) by her brother while she imagined him fucking her ass with his cock, and it felt fucking incredible.
The waves had started again, the ones that ran through her body, making it respond in any way it could to increase them, to reach that point she now knew from direct experience, the orgasm. And when Keith took his hands off her completely, the sensations almost stopped, something she couldn't bear... she reacted instantly, getting back on her hands and knees and wiggling her butt in the air, like reminding him what he'd left inside of her, or trying to get it to move in and out with muscular control alone. In fact, she did manage to move just the pen, out, bouncing it out and sucking it back in, just a fraction of an inch, before he grinned and took hold once more and started doing it himself it again, doing it much deeper and making the pleasure waves once again begin in earnest.
This time, the waves were slower, not as high, but she was better at understanding what she had to do, holding her breath when the magic marker Keith was pushing into her body went as far as he was willing to allow it, and when he pulled it out, letting the breath out in a moan, taking a shallow gasp. She squirmed, though not as much as the first time, and squinted her eyes shut, and, she suddenly realized, it wasn't just her body, her thoughts played a role, even the dirty words, and returned to the thought of Keith fucking her ass with his cock, doing it in front of her parents, or the whole school, while she begged for it, not caring that everybody knew that she loved anal stuff, and then there was a moment when it all came together, the fantasies, her ass's relentless clenching, a sudden upward thrust, and Susan holding her breath until the last possible moment, when suddenly she let loose with a cry and felt the pleasure wash over her again.
It wasn't as powerful as the first, nor did it last as long, but it was an orgasm, a better feeling than she could ever remember having without something being thrust inside of her. Now, the magic marker was still... and, to her surprise, she was somewhat relieved at that, too. She had only dimly noticed, there at the end, but it was starting to become painful... the slickness left over from her pussy, which lubricated the marker on its way in, had worn off, and the friction had started to build up to an uncomfortable level. If she had gone any longer, the repeated sawing motion might have started to really hurt.
Instead, Keith removed it entirely, which she wasn't sure she wanted either, but he didn't give her much choice in the matter. She opened her eyes and looked up at him lazily, and he had that jerky, smug smirk on his face again. Keith shook his head, and said, "Unbelievable the lengths you'll go to, to convince me something's magic... you took a pen up your ass! You are soooo going to be a slut when you start dating."
She glared at him, but didn't feel like she had the strength to do much else. "It is magic." He put on a face as he nodded, like he was agreeing with her, only sarcastically. "If it's not magic, why not give me the pen?"
"Because I'm not going to feed your delusion. Besides, this is my pen." He lifted it to just under his nose, took a whiff, and made an exaggerated face that made Susan blush. "Though I do need to wash it. Your butt stinks worse than your feet. You want me to help you out again, there better be something in it for me." He slapped her butt, lightly, one last time, and stood, heading out the door. She noticed something hard poking against the front of his boxers from inside, tenting them outwards, before he turned and walked out. She heard him running water in the washroom, and imagined him washing down the marker, and then retreated into his room and closed the door.
Not long after that, she heard his music blaring, and, only then did she trust herself to try to get to her feet. She no longer felt as weak as she had right after the orgasm, and, although her legs wobbled a little the first few seconds, even managed to stand.
It felt funny. Like her butt had been changed forever, like it was missing something. Susan wandered to her mirror, bent over in front of it, spread her cheeks with her hands, and tried to look at it... it did look red, and swollen, and... ready to open. Not actually open, but, before she'd looked at it and it was like the face of someone who just sucked on a lemon... now, it was almost like somebody blowing a kiss. She flexed the muscles there and watched it open slightly.
She then turned and looked at her pussy... the blood, that didn't seem to be coming out any more, though pussy did also seem redder inside, and there were smears of red outside. She wasn't a virgin anymore... or was she? She hadn't actually had sex, but she'd lost her cherry. Did that count? She didn't think it should, but sex was full of weird rules she didn't fully understand. She even got conflicting information on what the 'bases' meant... first base was kissing, but after that, nobody she'd talked to seemed to agree. What had just happened might be second or third base or some kind of foul ball.
Her eyes drifted to the humiliating words still written on her. Even reflected in the mirror, they made her blush. She was now, for the next week, going to be super horny, and love anal stuff. That was going to be difficult... the horny one most of all. She guessed that, even if she loved anal stuff, she didn't actually have to DO it if she didn't want to. The words only controlled how she felt about it. And she loved going swimming, but she could go months without doing it. But the horny one... that feeling was hard to resist. If she could wipe away one, it'd be that one, but she couldn't.
Or could she? It had only been minutes since the words were written on her... maybe the marks hadn't set in yet, and she could wash them away. When Keith wrote on her suddenly smelly feet, she didn't try scrubbing the words away for several hours, and that was certainly too late... but if she hopped in the shower now, there was a chance.
She'd just had a shower, but there was no reason she couldn't have two. The decision made, she began to lay out some fresh clothes, because the ones she wore today now seemed somehow dirty... the panties especially, but it didn't seem right to wear the same shirt, either even though she'd only wore it for a few hours. It was like what had happened before the orgasm was a completely new day for her. New day means new clothes. So did a shower.
Once she'd chosen what she'd wear after she got out, she retreated to the shower, turned it on as hot as she could bear it, and started scrubbing her back area with the bar of soap. There was a moment of excited hope when it seemed the water streaming down her feet was discolored, and she thought it might be the ink washing away... and then she realized it was just some of the blood, coming from inside her, and targeted the spray to get rid of as much of it as she could. There seemed to be a lot of it... far more than there should be for the short amount of pain, but just when she was starting to worry that there might be something permanently wrong with her, it tapered off, the water became clear again, and she went back to trying to wash away ink.
She couldn't tell for sure until she looked in the mirror, but it didn't seem like it was doing much good. Was she super horny? Not right that moment, but did 'super horny' mean she would always be super horny, or that she got super horny? She didn't know. What about loving anal stuff? She slipped the soap between her butt cheek, washed the anus, and felt a shiver of excitement. Yes, if the soap wasn't too big, she'd probably try to push it all the way inside. As it was... she could soap up a finger and send that in.
The idea excited her and before she knew it, she was doing just that, sending one slippery finger inside of her, which she slid in and out, telling herself at first she was just doing it to clean herself... Keith had said she was stinky, and what better way to clean the inside of her butt than with a soapy finger? It felt good, too, maybe not as good as the marker did, but she could wiggle the finger around and make herself squirm, like if you could actually tickle yourself, although not quite. What she thought would be really cool was if she could find something to stick up there and leave there, something that wouldn't fall out on its own but she could take out whenever she needed to. It was too bad nobody else would think of something like that... the idea really tickled her, that she could walk around, even in public, and every time she moved it would move too and provoke these little bursts of pleasure, maybe even getting an orgasm with nobody else realizing it... she realized it was happening again. Her knees were weak and shaking and the all-out horny feeling had come upon her like a tidal wave, sudden and irresistible.
She pulled the finger out defiantly. No. She might love anal stuff, but she had to get a handle on this. If she was going to be super horny this often, she had to find a way to control it, otherwise she'd be putting things in her butt at the dinner table in front of her parents by the end of the week!
Boys are super horny all the time, she remembered again. How did they deal with it?
They masturbated, of course, which girls could do as well (did sticking things in her butt count?), but that couldn't be the only way. What if it happened to them in school? She remembered a boy in her class walking with his schoolbooks over his lap, and her friend whispering in her ear that he had a boner, and the two of them giggling like mad. What did he do?
She didn't remember. But what she DID remember was something else, a sitcom she watched months ago, where for some reason, the guy wasn't allowed to have sex... and, so, of course, that was the time several different girls started aggressively hitting on him, one even whispering in his ear what she wanted to do to him... that was left to the audience's imagination, and, for sexual situations, she didn't have much at the time, thinking it was mostly kissing and maybe letting him grope her boobs... but what she did remember was his reaction. They made a running joke of him going into the bathroom and taking an ice-cold shower, or jumping in other cold water.
She turned and eyed the knobs for a moment, and then, sucking in a breath, turned the hot water all the way off. It took about three seconds, and then suddenly she was drenched in ice cold water that seemed like it made her entire skin shrink, dragging her entire body along into an awkward pose, a few steps out of the stream. She wanted to yell, but she couldn't seem to find the breath, all she had was exhaled in a puff as the first chilly blast hit her, and since then she wasn't able to breathe at all.
She was, however, no longer super horny. So, that was something.
Bending back into the spray was almost painful, and when she leaned forward to turn it off, she kept drawing back before she got to the knobs, but finally took a breath and forced herself through, pushed the little switch that turned the water flow from the showerhead to the faucet, and then quickly turned the water off entirely.
Susan's teeth chattered comically, and she gingerly stepped out of the tub and wrapped herself in a towel, wiping herself down quickly and then draping it over her shoulders like a cloak. She wasn't sure what was worse, horniness or the cold... but at least she had a starting point. If she got too horny, she could use cold water. Were there other methods? She remembered something about picturing something disgusting, she could try that, although she would have thought she'd find sticking something up her butt disgusting, so it wasn't a sure thing. Or there was thinking about baseball, which, though she wasn't sure, she also thought was supposed to help for that. She guessed it was probably anything boring that would work. So there were things she could try, would try.
Unfortunately none of them helped for very long.
The shower worked for a while. Distracting herself worked for a while. But, nearly a half hour later, after she was in her fresh set of clothes and watching TV in the family room, Susan came to realize that she'd distracted herself so much, that she'd unbuttoned the top button on her shorts and been rubbing her pussy through her panties without even being consciously aware of it. She only noticed it when she scratched her face with her hand and realized it left a wet spot. She then pulled her shorts down and looked down... her white panties were soaked and practically see-through, clinging to and showing off the area around her crack. And then she realized she was horny, and had been for a while... she'd been able to push it out of her mind, but not, apparently, out of her body. And now that it had gotten into her mind, it was all she could think about.
The problem, she decided, was television. It must not have worked as a distraction, because she wasn't really doing anything, the passive staring at a screen let her mind wander, and daydream... her thoughts had flit from hot boys on the screen, to what had happened earlier in the day, and all of that had slowly let the horniness creep in. The truth was, she'd only thought she'd been watching TV. She couldn't actually remember the plot of what she was watching.
"I need to do something else," she said aloud as she hurriedly pulled her short back in place. Something else, something that would use her brain actively enough that there was no room for the horny thoughts. She headed up to her room, where, upon seeing her bed, felt an unexpected rush of memories of the morning. Those she pushed out of her mind, thinking about baseball... or, were she to be honest, just muttering the word "baseball" over and over again, like a prayer.
If school was in session, she could probably lose herself in homework... never before would she have imagined hoping for homework during summer vacation, but, here she was. But even without homework, there was something else that was almost as good at absorbing her attention, but a lot more fun. Writing.
Her life goal was to be a famous writer, and she loved making up stories, a lot of them involving the characters she saw on TV or read in other stories, but some of her own creation (most of the main characters in these were not-very-well-disguised versions of herself with superior abilities). Writing turned out to be much harder than making up the stories, but she still worked at it regularly, and her computer was full of half-finished works.
The work of writing wasn't like TV, it took up all of her attention, so she opened the story she'd most recently been working on, and started typing. It only helped for a few minutes, and then she realized when she wrote her two favorite characters starting to fall in love (a frequent theme in her stories), it no longer involved kissing and making out, quickly they were stripping each other down and one was putting his finger in the other's pussy, and she imagined more, things she'd seen in porn, and her own pussy felt like it was sweating lava.
Maybe, she decided, what she needed was another orgasm. That helped for a little while, and maybe people had a certain number they could have each day, before they no longer could get horny. If that was true, then the thing to do was to get most of them out of the way as soon as possible. She resumed rubbing of her pussy, this time consciously, and looked around... touching herself was feeling good, but... was there something she could use, something she could stick inside her, make it feel even better?
Why not ask Keith?, she thought suddenly. He was better at it than she was. Whenever she touched herself, she was hesitant, like she was afraid it was going to hurt, or she chickened out when it started to feel too good. Keith didn't have that problem, he was, she'd discovered, good at causing orgasms. And she was not just horny, but super horny... so this was all his fault.
He'd even offered, it, sort of... he'd said she'd need to do something for him, but that wasn't a 'no,' that was a 'yes, if he got something he wanted.' She could maybe take on some of his chores or give him some of her allowance...
She tiptoed to his room and knocked on the door. When he opened it, he was dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, and looked down at her with a smirk. "What?"
"I'm... I'm horny again." She looked up at him. "Super horny."
The smirk widened into a grin. "Really. And I suppose you want me to take care of it?"
"It's your fault," she insisted once again, but knew it was no use. He was so stubborn, he'd probably need a winged horse to fly in through the window before he'd admit magic existed.
"God, you are so gullible."
"Are you going to help me, or not?"
He opened the door and stepped aside. "Get on the bed and take off all your clothes," he said.
She brushed past him and climbed onto his bed on all fours, and then rolled over to sit in the middle. Keith closed the door, locked it with a click, and sat down at his art desk. She saw him grab a pen from the desk... and she wasn't sure, but she thought it might be THE pen, the magic marker, the one that put Susan in this position. At least it looked like he wasn't going to demand anything... aside from taking off her clothes, which seemed like a fair thing to ask.
It was embarrassing though... this wasn't like that first time when she was so overwhelmed with the new sensation of horniness that she stripped down with barely a second thought. This time she was used to the sensations, had her wits more about her, and so she thought about how weird it was to be stripping naked in front of her older brother, and the way he watched her, no expression on his face, but with those hungry eyes.
She pulled off her shirt first, and then looked down at herself... her nipples were all poked-out again, and her thighs clenched as she remembered him pulling on them. That action, and the accompanying feeling, reminded her how eager she was for an orgasm, and so she pulled off her shorts and panties as one. Her pussy was wet and flushed... she was starting to get used to that feeling. Unprompted, she got on her hands and knees, pointing her butt in his direction, giving him easy access to both holes.
"Did I ask you to do that?"
"No, but..." She bit her lip. "You're going to do it, right?"
"Sit on the edge of the bed, first." She changed position, sitting exactly as he asked, and then tensed up as he reached down to rub her pussy with his fingers. It was so much better than the feel of the marker, the fingers could flex and move in unexpected ways. She closed her eyes and leaned back, holding her body up with her hands set behind her. "Yeah, you really seem like you need it."
She nodded hurriedly, made an 'mm-hmm' sound. She really did, it felt like she might burst if she didn't... which was kind of funny, when she thought of it, because when she got the orgasm, it sort of felt like she had burst, but one burst was what she wanted and the other burst seemed like something she had to avoid at all costs.
"Then you've got to do something for me, first." Her eyes snapped open, just in time to see his hands go to his pants, which undid the button and zipper, and pulled down the boxers, which looked to be barely able to contain some monster inside, until the monster was freed, revealing it as his penis, the first real, hard penis she'd seen in person. She stared at it in fascination, it feeling somehow more intimate than when he stared at her, it was a hard, bouncing thing, with a glistening head and seemed to almost vibrate gently, like it was full of a life of its own, and a little threatening, the way it poked out towards her, but exciting, too. Did he want her to touch it? "You're going to learn how to give a blowjob..." he said.
That got her attention and cut through the horniness some, less successfully than a cold shower, but still, it was something she hadn't expected... should have, perhaps, but didn't. Firstly, because she never understood how girls did that... it just seemed so gross. Sure, so did sticking something up her butt, but she loved anal stuff now, and it felt good... sticking something in her mouth only felt good if it tasted good, and she couldn't imagine that. She didn't even like sucking on her fingers. But even if she could get beyond that... it was oral sex. That was a kind of sex, technically. What had happened so far, wasn't, as far as she could tell. Keith might have done something dirty, but she hadn't. There were lines, and then there were LINES. "No," she said, defiantly, brushing her hair out of one of her eyes again. Although, as she said the words, deep down a part of her wanted him to convince her.
He seemed shocked. "Why not?"
"Because it's gross. And you're my brother. I'm not, like, sucking you or whatever."
"Oh no? You think you're too good to put my cock in your mouth?" He grinned, and dangled the marker, the magic marker, in front of her. "Then it's time to play my new favorite game... try and prove Susan wrong. Let's see how far you're willing to go this time..."
He pushed her down, roughly, although without hurting her, just sending her sprawling backwards, then uncapped the pen and, with the hand that held the cap, grabbed her right leg and pulled it upwards, making it difficult to move, at least not without trying to kick wildly at him, an action she was unwilling to do. In fact, she was unwilling to try anything, as her heart pounded and she waited for what new words would be marked on her skin, inscribed onto who she was for the next week.
He wrote it on the inside of her right thigh, two words, and then let her leg drop. She rested the ankle of that leg on the thigh of her other, so she could better inspect the new words. "Cock Sucker," it said. That's what the writing said, and, seconds later, that's what she became, in the most direct way possible, the moment his dick got close enough, she opened her mouth and wrapped her lips around it, and began to bob her head up and down, gently sucking.
She didn't like it... it was like a warm sweaty popsicle, about as bad as she'd imagined... but she was a cock sucker now, which, she guessed, meant that she must suck cock. In fact, as she went down on her brother for the first time, she told herself to pull away, but she couldn't. Maybe she could have, physically, but she just couldn't seem to raise the will to pull away... as disgusting as it was, she didn't want to stop sucking the cock, she just wanted to want to stop, wanted to not be the type of person who wanted to continue. But while she wanted to want to stop, she drew up to the bulbous head of the penis and, without breaking contact, ran her tongue underneath, provoking a groan from Keith. "You've done this before, haven't you?"
She blushed and shook her head, pulling his dick from side to side with her mouth as far as it could go, and made a noise that sounded like denial. Of course she hadn't... how could he even think that?
"Well, then you're an absolute natural at this," he said softly, and that she actually did like, even though she wondered at it, how she could be good at something she'd never done before. It must have been the pen.
During her first blowjob, that was what was running through her mind, the nature of the magic in the pen. In some ways, it was like writing itself. There was a power in words, beyond the words themselves... the structure, the context was important, and, she decided, words carried meanings, meanings that weren't always obvious. An absolutely literal translation of 'cock sucker' might have become true with the first time she sucked. If he'd written 'baker', Susan guessed she would know how to bake, maybe not well, but well enough to be a baker... but the knowing wasn't enough. She had to do the act. And is a baker still a baker, if they decide never to bake anymore? She guessed not, otherwise she'd be able to stop sucking the cock. Every person who had ever baked would then be a baker, and every woman who had ever sucked cock would be a cock sucker. If you became a baker, or cock sucker, just from doing it once, the words wouldn't really be meaningful... for the words to mean something, it had to be more than just the boring fact of having done it. So a cock sucker, which she would be for the next week, had to mean somebody who currently chooses to suck cock... but how often? Every day? Every minute? Would Susan somehow be finding a way to suck Keith's cock for the entire week? No, she didn't think that would be the case... just like she had short periods when she wasn't super horny, and those words were still, generally, true, she expected she wouldn't have to suck cock all the time... just often enough. Whatever that meant. She seemed to get horny at the slightest opportunity, though, and maybe this was the same way... when she was a cock sucker, she'd suck cock at the slightest opportunity. Any time it looked like she could suck cock, she would. And right now, she could suck it uninterrupted. Maybe that meant it would last until Keith told her 'no more'.
The thought sent a shiver up her spine, followed by a pulse of warm, electric pleasure... the lack of control felt good, she would be almost a slave to his whim. It was oddly liberating, not in the usual way, because she wouldn't have the liberty to decide what to do, but it was something of a relief to not HAVE to decide, ever. And also, the thought of doing it whenever he wanted, it was just so dirty... as was the knowledge that she'd probably thought the word 'cock' more in the past minute than in her whole life before, all while having a cock in her mouth. She was behaving like a complete and total slut. Her hand automatically went down to her pussy to explore the feeling, expand it, maybe bring on the orgasm herself, even though part of her wanted to hold off, wanted Keith to do it... then again, maybe he was, if it was his cock in her mouth making her so horny. "You like that, huh?" Keith asked, probably noticing her starting to masturbate, and, because she couldn't take her mouth off that cock, she couldn't answer him, but she made a sound, something like a mm-hmmm, because even though she didn't like the taste or feel of the cock in her mouth, somehow she really liked that she was doing it, doing it for her brother of all people. It felt naughty, grown-up, forbidden, and overwhelmingly hot. And when Keith grabbed her short hair and pushed her down deeper on him, sending his cock far deeper than she'd been going so far, it felt even hotter.
Despite the added discomfort, she handled it without worry, and from that point on, would go down to that length every so often, since he seemed to want it, and what kind of cock sucker doesn't do what the guy wants? Although Keith would sometimes guide her roughly when he wanted her deeper than she was planning, most of the rest of the time, his touch seemed gentler, playing with her hair, rubbing the side of her face with a sort of tenderness that lifted her spirits. She was making him happy, and she liked that... if she made him happy enough, maybe he wouldn't be a jerk to her anymore. Still a jerk, at least as long as the mark was there, but not to her... that would be a win. She could only hope she was making him happy, the signals his body was giving off didn't suggest that, but she remembered her own body had some of the same ambiguous effects when she approached her own orgasm. His breathing began to get tense, strained, getting shallower and louder, and then, in an instant, the tender touch became a tight grip on her hair, not forcing her deeper, but telling her not to move right where she was, about halfway down.
That was when Susan became aware her brother was squirting something in her mouth, something thick and bitter, even worse tasting than the cock itself, a jet of it bounced off her tongue and seemed to hit the roof of her mouth, another missed and seemed to go into the back of the throat, forcing her to swallow it just to feel like she wasn't choking. She thought she should pull her mouth away, wanted to not have to taste the gloopy mass filling it, but she was a cock sucker and that was more important than any of those concerns. She continued sucking, swallowing as best as she could.
Keith exhaled sharply, and she noticed his cock was becoming softer and smaller, easier to suck, and except for the taste, almost more fun, it was no longer rigid and she could move her head side to side more and swirl her tongue around it, which she did until her brother pushed her away, and she finally made a face... but her eyes were still focused on that cock. The urge to put it in her mouth again was overwhelming.
At least, it was until he tucked it back into his pants, and then it subsided almost completely. So was that the rule, she wondered? Was that what made one a 'cock sucker?' Whenever she saw a cock, she'd feel an urge to suck it? If so, that wasn't so bad, this was the first one she'd seen in person in her life, so it obviously wasn't going to happen very often. Which was good, because the taste really was awful... as she moved her tongue around in her mouth to try to clear it away, she ran into a huge glob of it she'd missed swallowing, and made a face. Though, she supposed that if she liked it, it wouldn't have made a good enough exchange to get what she wanted from Keith. Remembering what she came in here for in the first place, she asked, "So are you going to help me now?"
"Fine. Get on your back. Because you did such a good job, I'll give you the Shocker."
Susan, who was practically aching from being horny so long with only the mixed relief of mild masturbation, scrambled to follow his instructions, before finally asking, "What's the Shocker?"
He held up three fingers, the index and middle finger, and his pinkie, with his ring finger folded down. "Two in the pink," he said, and started to wiggle the pinkie. "And one in the stink."
She still didn't understand exactly what he meant, but thought she got at least part of it. "You're going to use your fingers?"
"Relax, you'll like it," he said, and she did, laying her head down passively, and waiting for him to get closer. He was probably right, considering she was super horny, and loved anal stuff.
It started with him not doing the Shocker, whatever that was, but just running his palm up the whole length of her pussy, grabbing it, kneading the flesh from bottom to top. It would stop at the hole and swirl around, getting his fingers wet and making Susan twitch with the delightful agony of something so close to, but not quite, what she wanted. After a few swipes of this, he did much the same with the back of his hand, rubbing her with his knuckles.
Finally, she saw him make the weird hand shape again, like he was pointing a finger-gun at her pussy (for the pinky was now out of sight), and he pressed forward, widening the entrance as his two fingers pushed inside her, and she gasped suddenly as, just as she was getting used to that feeling, there was a sudden, delightful pressure on her asshole, the unseen pinky finger. It too was forcing its way inside, and Susan did that unconscious muscle twitch to try to open herself down there, and soon, three fingers were deep inside her, two in the pussy, one in the ass, driving her wild. She changed her mind in that moment, fingers were much better than a magic marker, at least if they were somebody else's. The warmth, the pulse, the unexpected wiggling. Even though the pinky in her butt was smaller than the marker, and she might have preferred something larger, that was only a minor drawback, and, as she was already so close, she had an orgasm within a minute.
The Shocker treatment continued all through the orgasm, and even after she came down, like Keith was going to try to give her two, or maybe he didn't realize she'd had one yet. She didn't want to tell him, either, but then discovered he must have already known, for he said, smugly, "See, I told ya you'd like it." She just breathed heavily, trying to re-center herself, an instinctive feeling she couldn't have another orgasm until her mind had completely settled down from the last one. "Just like you enjoyed sucking my cock."
"No I didn't," she said, despite her mixed feelings about it. There was the taste issue and, besides, if Keith thought she completely hated it, she could trade it for orgasm service. If he thought she'd enjoyed it, he might make her do something else.
"You sure seemed to like it to me. You were sucking on it like it was a candy and you couldn't wait to get to the creamy center. I had to practically wrestle it out of your mouth."
It was useless, but she had to try. "Only because you wrote it on me and made me a... 'cock sucker'. I didn't want to, I had no choice."
"Sure, sure," he said in that dismissive way.
"I didn't!" she insisted. "And it tasted nasty. I never want to have to taste it again."
"Oh, I bet I could change your mind about that," he said ominously, and she knew that he could, if he wanted to, if he believed in the magic. But he didn't say anything more about it, just continued finger-banging her with the Shocker, playing her like an instrument, and, within a few minutes, she experienced another explosive orgasm, again, not as powerful as the first, but this time, as she was going through with it, he jiggled his hand forcefully, giving her a strong sensation to cling to beyond the timeless empty pleasure, and that seemed to make it last longer. "Too bad you don't do an ahegao face," he said, pulling his fingers out the moment she settled back into her deep breathing phase. She didn't know that word. "Maybe we can fix that later. But for now, you can get out of my hair." He stood, and cupped his crotch with his hand. "I've got some drawing to do, and it's going to take a while to build up another load for you to suck down."
"Eww," she said. "I don't want to do that again. I told you, it tastes nasty." She wasn't ready to move yet, either.
"Hmm," he said, and looked down at the magic marker... he'd had it clutched in one hand or another through the whole affair, the blowjob and the Shocker, as though he was afraid she might try to steal it... maybe she should, she decided, because it was clear he was getting an idea. "Let's see if we can fix THAT then."
He grabbed her foot, her left one, and hefted it into the air, got the cap off, and began to write. This time, Susan didn't even want to attempt to struggle. After all, if he somehow made her like the taste, that was a good thing, wasn't it? So, she let him write it, and, when he let go, roused herself to take a look. At first she was pleased, but then realized it wasn't as good as she first thought. "Addicted to cum?" she read, her voice incredulous. Good grief. "Couldn't you have written 'Likes the taste'?" Her first instinct was that it was the same thing, but she remembered people on TV talking about getting addicted to alcohol but hating the taste. And she imagined smokers couldn't like how cigarettes tasted, but they were addicted all the same.
He shrugged and grinned. "I guess I could, but this way's more fun. Whassamatter, started jonesing for it already?"
"No!" she snapped, and then realized... it was true. She hadn't.
Keith also looked a little puzzled, but finally said, "See, I told you there was nothing magical about this."
She wondered again if maybe she was making it up, not consciously, but just believing it so much she acted like it was true. Because, judging by the other times she was marked, she really should be addicted by now. Unless... it came to her then, all at once. "Yeah, but I just had a... dose, or whatever," she pointed out. "I might be addicted, but if I just drank some..."
Her brother relaxed and lightly slapped her thigh... not even really a slap, this fingertips just grazed the top. "Then come see me when you need another dose. If you need another one. Until then, scram." He went to sit at his desk, and made a big show of ignoring her. Susan took her time and got dressed again there in his room, wanting him to acknowledge her, say something, maybe apologize, tell her he loved her, but knew it was impossible... he was a jerk, and that was all her fault. At least the horniness had gone down, for the time being. When she had all her clothes on, she turned tail and left without a word. It was only after she left that she looked down, and saw that you could see the letter "Coc" and "Suck" poking out the bottom of her shorts, if she turned her legs the right way. She sighed to herself... she couldn't wear short shorts any more, to completely cover up the letters, they'd have to come down to just above her knee.
It was hard to say which came first, the next bout of super-horniness or the cravings, but the cravings caught her conscious attention first, and, a little after noon, Susan found herself wandering over to the fridge. Lately, for lunches, she'd been overdosing on Peanut Butter and Jam (or sometimes Jelly). When she had to go to school, she wasn't allowed to bring them, because someone in her class had allergies, and she couldn't have them for dinner, so they were something of a rare treat most of the year. During the summer, she made up for lost time, and there were whole weeks where she had nothing but.
This time, though, when she opened the fridge, instead of grabbing the jam, she found herself pulling out the mayo. When she put it on the table she stared at it a moment, and then shrugged, deciding that she must have been in the mood for a ham sandwich, and assembled one, with a good dollop of mayo... and she stared at the butter knife coated with leftover white stuff, and thought of the white goo that came out of cocks. She hadn't actually seen it on Keith, since she was too busy sucking his cock at the time, but she had an idea of what it looked like... somewhat of an idealized, cartoonized idea, where it was goopy globs of bright white that looked much like mayonnaise, and so, when she saw it on the knife, she found herself licking it directly off the blade. The taste wasn't the same, not even close (mayo was better, but still a little icky by itself), and it was cold, but she licked it clean anyway before realizing what she was doing and had a guess at why, then shuddered.
When she got the sandwich to her room, she started reflecting how, when you combined it with the salty ham, the mayo did taste a little more like what Keith had shot in her mouth, although more palatable than either cum or mayo alone, and began picturing herself eating a sandwich that her brother had cum all over the inside... which got her horniness up again, which made her think even more about sucking cock in exchange for another orgasm, until she finally chastised herself. She shouldn't be enjoying what was happening, being molested.
No, she thought again. 'Molested' sounded too harmful. It wasn't the right word, she needed to find another. There was supposedly a famous writer, her teacher couldn't remember which, that said something Susan tried to use as a motto in her writing, even if she was sure she failed at it most of the time. He or she said (Susan guessed it was probably a she, maybe Jane Austen), "The difference between the right word and the almost right word is the difference between the lightning bug and the lightning." 'Molested' was almost right, but not exactly, and so it was wrong. She needed the right word, one that captured how, even though it wasn't entirely willing, she liked it, kept thinking about it, even craved it, and not just because of what was written on her skin. Keith wrote that she loved anal stuff, but hadn't written anything about her enjoying the feel of his fingers deep in her pussy, so that had to come from her. She wasn't being molested... she needed a word that captured the lightning, not the bug. But what other word was there? Maybe it was beyond words, just one of those things that nobody ever talks about. Lots of people don't even talk about being molested, if what teachers said was true.
The only time she personally knew someone who did talk about it, they didn't even actually use the word 'molested'. It happened when she was ten, and there was a big stink at her school when a girl claimed she'd been felt up by the soccer coach during a field trip. Those were the words she used, 'felt up', and at the time, Susan thought that was a strange turn of phrase, because it was supposed to be bad, but it didn't sound bad. If you were feeling down, being 'felt up' sounded like a good thing, didn't it? The girl moved away shortly after, having been discredited for, she'd heard, having accused lots of other people of doing it to her, and nobody really believed her because, whenever she talked about it, she sounded just vaguely annoyed rather than traumatized like everyone knew you were supposed to be when some creep tried to touch you in one of your private places. Now, Susan wondered if maybe it happened, maybe the reason she wasn't in tears was because she partly enjoyed it... she wasn't molested, she was just felt up.
Now, so was Susan. In fact, Susan hadn't just been felt up, she'd been felt down, and felt inside... and that felt like the perfect word, because she now felt thoroughly 'felt'. And it felt great at the time, leading to something else she'd never felt before, orgasm. All because of the words written on a felt-tipped marker. She licked some mayo off her lips, finished her sandwich, and ran the hard edge of her plate between her legs... yes, that hardness rubbing against her slit, through her shorts, was a nice sensation, but it was nothing compared to being 'felt' by another human being she cared about. That was definitely the right word. Enjoying being molested would be crazy, but it was okay to enjoy being felt, to crave it again, to ask the person doing it to feel you again.
She headed downstairs to put her plate in the sink, went back upstairs, and knocked on her brother's door, ready to get felt some more, and to sate her cum addiction. He didn't answer, so, while Susan waited, she decided to save time and strip down there in the hallway. When he still hadn't answered by the time she was nude, she knocked again, more loudly.
Keith appeared at the door, towering over her, and looked down at her naked body with a smile. "Again?" he asked, and shook his head in that way he had, then held the door open for her to enter. "Looks like you're raring to go."
"It's your fault," she said listlessly, no longer expecting it might be believed. If he'd just admit it, she could forgive him and focus on the fun of being felt, but he never would, especially not while he was a jerk.
"Keep telling yourself that, you little slut," he said. "So, do you want the Shocker again, or do you feel like something bigger?"
Her lip trembled. "But... don't you want me to suck your..." She could think the word, but saying it was still a struggle.
"My cock?" Keith supplied, seemingly having no trouble. In fact, he seemed tickled pink. "You want to suck my cock?"
"No," she lied, or half-lied. She still suffered seriously mixed feelings over it. "But I'm addicted, thanks to you."
"Is that so?"
"Well, maybe I'm not interested in a blowjob right now," he said.
Her heart dropped, and then started racing. "You're not?" she asked in a wavering voice. She'd expected he'd jump at the chance, and now... she hadn't realized how much she was counting on it until it was denied. "But... but..."
"Maybe if you begged me," he suggested, his voice raising at the end of the offer.
She didn't like begging, but... she really felt like she needed it. "Please," she said. "Let me... suck... let me suck your..." She blushed... why did she find it so hard to say dirty words out loud?
"Go on, say it..."
"Letmesuckyourcockplease?" she spat out in a rush.
"No," he said, and she wanted to die, or smack him. "Not if you're not going to beg properly... don't you know anything? You're supposed to do it on your knees."
She fell on her knees, clasped her hands together in front of her face, and tried again. "Please, let me suck your cock." The second time was easier.
"You like my cock, huh?"
"Yes," she agreed, knowing a more honest, nuanced answer would just make him deny her for not begging enough. "I love it, please, I want to drink your cum." Cum wasn't as bad a word, since she could pretend she was saying 'come.' Of course, you could also 'cock' your head or a gun, and a 'cock' was a male rooster, but that didn't seem to matter, when she was saying 'cock' there was only one thing in her mind.
"Oh, all right, since you're already on your knees..." He undid the top button of his pants, which were already unzipped, and pulled out his cock, already hard. After that, she didn't have any choice in the matter... she was a cock-sucker, and one who was addicted to cum, to boot. She took it in her mouth, and she proceeded to suck. To her surprise, it tasted better, although she couldn't put her finger on exactly how. It was a number of little details... the sweaty flavor underlying everything didn't taste so much like sweat, the whole thing had a more meatier taste in her mouth, and the tip, when she ran her tongue around it, was less bitter, more flavorful. She actually enjoyed doing that and, judging by her brother's 'mmm' sounds, he enjoyed her doing that too.
"If you're not going to go far down," he said after she did it for almost half a minute, "you should stroke it with your hand, too." She complied, wrapping her hand around the shaft, enjoying the warm feeling, and how the pulse of it felt much stronger. Her hand pumped up and down along it and, when her hand was towards the bottom, she went down on him as far as she could, feeling him touch the back of her throat, which she thought would make her gag, but didn't.
Finally, she got her reward, and although she predicted it in advance by the way his breathing changed, and although she dreaded the taste, she could not pull off, she needed her dose, and she was still a cock sucker. His cum rolled over her tongue and, to her surprise, it also tasted better, much better, almost buttery... buttery, salty, a little meaty, not very bitter at all. The texture was still a little gross, slimy rather than a smooth liquid or solid, but the flavor was good. Good, but the kind of good where you think you could easily get sick if you ate too much of it. Kind of like the fatty part of a pork chop. However much 'too much' was, it was more than Keith produced, so Susan swallowed it all eagerly, and even made her own 'mmm' sounds. It must have been her addiction, she decided, making it taste so good, and indeed, swallowing it also made some of the anxiety disappear, leaving just the horniness she'd been growing used to. Now she was ready for the Shocker, or something bigger, which might have just meant using the marker again, or maybe something like a brush, but there were other ideas that excited her even more because they were just so wrong, even wronger than everything else they'd done so far. But even a jerk wouldn't try to have sex with his sister, would he? And even if he did, should she try to resist? Or make him wear a condom? If he wore a condom, she thought, it wouldn't really be that bad... their privates wouldn't actually be touching, it would just be like he was touching rubber, and she was being felt by rubber. Or whatever condoms were made of, latex probably.
"You really seemed to like it that time," Keith said, pulling his dick from her mouth and allowing her to, temporarily, at least, put her cock-sucking nature on hold and take a breath.
"Because you made me an addict."
"No, the marker did nothing, you just liked it," he said smugly, and, just as Susan was thinking that they would never be done with this argument, he added, "And I can prove it."
That was new. "How?" she asked, but doubtfully... she knew the power of the marker, she felt it.
He rolled up his left sleeve. On his inner bicep he had written the word "RICH." "See? I wrote this a few minutes after you left the last time."
"So?" she asked, even though she knew what he was getting at, she just needed time to think... there had to be an explanation. This couldn't all be in her head... could it?
"So, am I rich yet? I don't see any solid gold statues, my bank account's still in the low double digits, and my wallet's almost empty. Unless Dad won the lottery at work, there's no magic in this pen. You sucked my cock because you wanted to. You're a little slut, you're a little slut..." He said the last in a little taunting sing-song voice as he pointed at her.
"There is so magic..." There had to be.
"Then why aren't I rich?"
She made a face, and then said, "Let me see the marker."
He looked hesitant at first, but went to his drawing desk, retrieved the pen, and handed it over. "You even try to uncap it and you'll wish you never found it."
"I already do," she said, but, the truth was, she didn't... she knew she should, but she didn't. That didn't mean she loved everything that had happened, but some of it was good. If only she could make her brother less of a jerk... and, with the pen in her hand, that was a possibility, but not much of one. She had no doubt he'd be able to wrestle it out of her hands if she tried to write on him, before she got a single letter down. Instead, she just read the long disclaimer written on the side, until she found what she was looking for. "See, look here! 'Ink Will Not Alter Anything You Don't Write On!'" He took it from her and read it for himself. "Being rich isn't just about you. If it was going to make you rich, it'd have to change your bank account, or put money in your wallet directly... and that would probably violate the laws of physics or something, too." Wasn't one of them that matter and energy couldn't be created or destroyed?
"Well, you've just got an excuse for everything, don't you?" he snapped. "Isn't that one of the sure signs of a delusion?"
That made no sense to Susan, so she didn't say anything... directly challenging him was only likely to make him mad, and while he was a jerk, she didn't want to do that any more than necessary. "So are you going to feel me now or what?"
"You know, feel me up," she put her hands above her breasts, or where they would one day grow, then dropped it to her pussy and continued, "feel me down... I'm still super horny because of you."
"I don't know," Keith said. "What's in it for me?"
Susan gritted her teeth and tried, unsuccessfully, to keep anger out of her voice when she pointed out, "I just sucked your cock." At least she was getting better at saying it.
"Yeah, and begged me for the privilege. So I was doing you a favor, or at least we came out even. You want me to help you out, I'm going to need something else."
Susan could hardly breath. "Like what?" she managed to ask, regardless, as her heart started pounding. Once again, he'd told her he needed her to go one step further before he'd help her with her horniness. Could she have been right about what he meant by 'something bigger', and this was his way to manipulate her into doing it? If not, what else was there? Would he want to do more to her than he already had? It had to be sex, didn't it?
"I'll do it," he said finally, and then added, "but you gotta let me take some pictures."
Her eyes widened at the unexpected request. "Pictures?"
"Of me?" A warm rush of blood went to her cheeks... it was flattering, wasn't it?
"Yeah, mostly for reference."
"You know, to help my drawing... especially if I want to do hentai..."
"What's hen tie?" That was how she visualized the spelling, anyway, and guessed maybe it involved tying her up. Or maybe it was 'hand-tie', and he wanted to practice on drawing hands... he certainly needed it.
"Dirty comics. So if I want to draw a naked girl, I have something to look at."
Now that he'd said the word, she'd remembered seeing the term before, spelled 'hentai,' on his computer, in his comic subfolder, some of the comics were labeled 'Hentai Collection,' like a subtitle. She thought at the time it was a company name. Now she realized it was something else, a word for a special type of porno. 'Hentai' and 'porno' even had complementary sounds in her head, so that kind of made sense. And Keith wanted to make his own, using pictures of her. That didn't seem so bad, as long as... "Promise nobody else sees? The pictures, I mean?"
"I'd get in almost as much trouble as you if they did."
She had to agree he had a point. And she already had some limited experience with risque photos, although nothing to this degree. Months ago she and a friend took photos of themselves in panties and tissue-stuffed bras and sent them to some boys their age in another city her friend knew through Instagram. They did it through Snapchat, and stopped when the boys broke their word and took a screenshot of one of the pics, but it was fun while it lasted, Susan's biggest experience with the thrill of doing something she knew was naughty, at least before today. And it really was flattering, that Keith wanted them in the first place, wanting any pictures of her was a compliment. Even if they were naked pictures... it's not like he hasn't already seen it all now. "Okay. How do you want me?"
He wanted her in many different ways, as it turned out. After he got his phone, it started simply, poses with her standing naked, turned in various directions, giving him hand-gestures or different looks. Then it moved to his bed, where she lounged in different positions, or on her hands and knees. It quickly became fun, not even a turn on, although she was still super horny, just a game, like playing supermodel, quality time spent with her brother that she found herself really enjoying. When he wasn't acting like a jerk, she loved this sort of thing, and even now, as a jerk, he was often complimentary when she struck a particularly hot pose. Sometimes he even said, "You're beautiful, Susan." A jerk wouldn't say something like that if it wasn't true, right? So Susan decided he must have genuinely thought she was beautiful. That was somehow almost as hard for Susan to believe as that she'd found a magic marker.
Sometimes he gave her an emotion to try for, and that was even more fun, like acting, he wanted her scared, happy... he got her to pose with her hands clasped together, just like she was when she was begging for his cum, and once with her hand over her open mouth like someone had just walked in on her while she was changing. He told her to try to look like what she did when she was cumming, a face she couldn't really remember, and then suggested she roll her eyes back in her head and let her tongue hang out of her mouth. That, when he showed her after, she didn't think looked very attractive at all, and made her self-conscious again.
Soon, the poses grew more explicit, one hand spreading her ass and pussy from behind, or laying on her back with her legs spread, and her hands pulling open her pussy, or a close up of her wet pussy. Soon, touching became more and more a part of the pictures, either her pulling her own nipples, or masturbating... not really masturbating, but doing a masturbating pose. That was a problem that got even worse when it wasn't just Susan doing the touching, when Keith took pictures with one of his own hands on her, or his own fingers in her. She wanted him to give her that orgasm she craved, but he'd just stick it in long enough to take a picture, and then move it. Similarly, he shoved a marker (this time, not the magic marker, but just a Sharpie) inside her pussy, then her ass, but not long enough to get any real fun out of it, it was all business, he just snapped a picture just as she was starting to enjoy it, and moved on. Soon, she was practically trembling with unfulfilled need.
That was when her brother started taking off his own clothes. Part of her was scared at that development, part of her was mentally screaming, "Yes, finally!"
The latter part was in charge of her pussy, but the scared part must have controlled her face and body language, because Keith said, "Don't worry, I just want to get some with my cock in the shot." He scooted up to her and told her to grab it. She did, and as soon as she had, with barely enough time for him to snap a picture, she popped it in her mouth. She was, after all, a cock sucker, thank to the magic marker. He took a picture of that, and pulled it out of her mouth, sort of slapped her with it, and then rubbed the slimy head along her cheek. He readied the phone to take another picture and... it wound up in her mouth again.
He pulled out again, lay it against her head, and again, she swerved her head and neck around until she could begin sucking it. "Goddamn it, Susan, stop sucking my cock, I'm trying to get a shot here."
"I can't help it," she said, although with her mouth full of cock, she didn't know if he understood the muffled words. It really did seem that whenever a cock got close to her mouth, she instinctively sucked it. He tried once more, pulling out and laying the swinging meat across her face, and she closed her eyes to slits, trying not to think about it, and she managed long enough for him to get one shot of it, looking like she was in some kind of rapture at having a cock nearby, when in actual fact she was just trying not to suck it. He pushed her back, hard enough that her head bounced a little off his bed before settling... at least now, his cock was far enough away that she didn't have that urge to suck it. Instead, she grabbed instinctively at her own crotch, running two fingers along her slit.
He stared down at her, then pulled her hand away, to her side, and leaned forward, his cock slapping against her belly. It felt warm... her pussy already felt like the warmest thing on her body, and yet his cock felt even warmer than that. She arched her back to raise her pelvis and get closer to it, even though she was already touching and she was in no position to get it inside her... to try to hint that he could do that if he wanted, go inside. All she could do was lift it, rub against it, but if he wanted, he could put it in, easily. The earlier thought about trying to get him to use a condom had long ago been forgotten and it didn't even cross her mind. He leaned back and took a picture, then another where the plum-shaped head rubbed up against the crack, bounced against the little nub at the top and sparked an electric jolt of pleasure that almost tripped her over into an orgasm right there and then. If it had bumped her a few times, she would have cum for sure, but instead he slipped back, down to the hole, where he wasn't inside, but it was like he was wearing her pussy hole like a penis hat, wrapped tightly around it.
"You know, what, what the fuck," he said. "I need to get some references for fucking, anyway."
"What?" she wanted it, but was stunned he'd just go ahead and do it, without even asking.
"Get ready to lose your cherry for real."
She stared down at his penis, the one he'd just said he was going to fuck her with, already glistening and the head nearly all the way inside. That wasn't fucking yet, was it? So if she was going to stop it, this was her last chance to say something. "I'm your sister," was what she said, and she wasn't sure she even had a point to saying it, because she decided she didn't actually want him to stop, she just thought she should want that, and had to keep up appearances so he wouldn't realize he was giving her something she wanted.
"Relax, it'll be fun." Then he began swiveling his hips ever so slightly, and it started to go in deeper, and Susan decided she now knew why they called it 'screwing', because it seemed very much like a screw being slowly worked into a hole perfectly fitted, except instead of turning all in one direction, you went back and forth... but whatever the direction behind it, with every motion it went deeper.
That changed when he was about halfway in, after that it was more like a nail being pounded in, and she remembered they also called it 'being nailed', which felt even more appropriate than being screwed. After that, he took a few pictures, and then let the phone hand fall to his side and pushed into her, more slowly than a hammer blow, but with what felt like the same amount of force. Her pussy lips stretched to accommodate him, but it was a tight fit, tighter than fingers or the marker, it felt like she was almost being torn apart... but just holding it together, and with only minimal pain, pain which flared up when he went all the way inside her, like it was just grazing hitting a new barrier, a second cherry, but not penetrating. That first time he did that was an eye-opener... literally, her eyes bulged out in surprise that so much could disappear inside her, and that it could make her feel so... complete.
Soon he had a steady rhythm going, an in and out thrust, and each time there was the stretching sensation, the feeling of completeness, occasionally the slight pain, but she was growing to crave the completeness and the motion over any concerns over pain. Soon, she was pushing back against him with every thrust, and she made noises too, loud gasps, turning into moans, like each push was pushing air out of her body... she could try to shape it into a vocalization, or let it rush out of her like a loud breath, or even try to button it up entirely, keep it inside her until it built up and she had to let it out... but mostly, it felt most natural to make a noise. It wasn't the only noise, there was also the regular slapping of skin against skin, and her brother's own ragged breaths and occasional grunts, and occasionally it all came together cohesively, and it was like some kind of prehistoric first attempt at music, before people learned how to sing and dance. Maybe their motions were like the prehistoric first forms of dance.
But this wasn't dancing, it was fucking, she was being fucked, which absolutely, unequivocally made her not a virgin anymore, which saddened her, but it felt incredible, the waves of pleasure from motion alone, combined with the closeness, the completeness, the sheer sense of how naughty she was being, and he was being, and all conspired to bring her to the brink of another orgasm.
He raised his hand and snapped another picture, and she half-heartedly pushed his hand away, not wanting to be photographed like that, wanting to preserve some dignity... who had a photograph of their first time? With his free hand, he pushed her down, a hand around her neck like he was going to choke her, and then instead it slid down her shoulder and locked around her wrist. His phone hand encircled her other wrist, and, like that, pinned her to the bed as he continued fucking her.
She closed her eyes and turned her head away, mouth open, and tried to bring the orgasm on through sheer force of will, and whether it was that or just its normal time, it came. She just had enough presence of mind to realize that her tongue wasn't hanging out of her mouth, so Keith must have been exaggerating that part. Her eyes flitted open again after it was done, and saw him staring at her, and then he leaned forward, planting his lips on her own.
His mouth opened, and she felt his tongue against her, and it forced its way inside, or half-forced... her own mouth seemed to betray her and opened to admit it, and then his tongue invaded her space, probing as her own tongue retreated. It reminded her of those old fantasy movies where the hero was in a cave and a dinosaur or dragon was poking it's head in... it couldn't get all the way in, but that head would sweep back and forth, almost but not quite reaching those inside.
And yet, unlike the heroes trapped in the cave, a part of her wanted to be caught, and her tongue gradually moved forward, just enough to be pawed at, batted around, and convince her that she wanted more... and then it left, and his lips sloppily half-puckered on her face, leaving a trail of saliva.
He let her go then, and withdrew, pulling his back up vertically and taking another picture of himself inside her, this time all the way, and then he started thrusting like a madman, but she barely noticed, her mind still reeling, trying to figure out what the kiss meant. Seconds later, Keith groaned and fell on her, head falling to the bed beside her own, and she felt his cock begin to twitch and jerk, and what she knew was cum began flooding inside her.
When he was done, he pushed himself off her and stood, then backed away, got his phone, and took one more picture, of her legs spread and pussy open, lips slightly parted, now looking something like a flower blooming, but with some goo running out of the opened petals. "There we go," he said. "The perfect picture to cap off the collection." With that he turned away, like she meant nothing.
But she hadn't felt like it meant nothing at the time. "Keith..." she asked, and waited until he actually turned in her direction. "Why did you do that?"
"We both knew this was going to turn to fucking eventually," he said, and Susan realized she kind of agreed with that. "Hope you enjoyed your first time. Fuck, I know you enjoyed your first time, I felt it." He flashed her a grin.
But the sex wasn't foremost on her mind. Sure, it was a life-changing experience, but like he'd said, she kind of expected it on some level, the surprise was only in the details. And one detail in particular. "But why'd you kiss me?"
He froze for a second, and then shook his head with a sneer. "That's what you're hung up about?"
"That was my first kiss. That was supposed to be saved for somebody special." She knew it was stupid, but that seemed so much more important than taking her virginity.
"What, I'm not special?" He grinned. "And it wasn't your first kiss, when you were four, you were kissing everybody. You were a total kiss slut." It was true, and her parents would bring that up now and then, much to her embarrassment. Of course, they didn't say 'kiss slut,' that was totally rude and inappropriate, the sort of thing only a jerky older brother would say, but they'd tell the story and chuckle about it while Susan sulked... didn't people know that if something happened when you were too young to remember, it didn't count and should never ever be brought up?
"That was my first real kiss," she said. "The way adults do it." And it was with her brother. Not that she didn't like it, but it wasn't right, it certainly wasn't the kind of first kiss she could tell her friends about. "And you stole it."
"Don't you know anything about love?" Keith asked. "Stolen kisses are the best kind."
"Love?" she asked. She hadn't meant it in a weird way, she just repeated the word in pleased disbelief, happy for some signal that, underneath the jerk that she had created, he did, in fact, still love her.
But the way Keith reacted opened her mind to another possibility... for just a moment, he looked panicked, like he'd been found out, said something he shouldn't say, and then he put on that mask of casual amusement. "Don't flatter yourself, it's just an expression. I mean, I love you as a sister..." That made her mind race, not just an admission that, despite all that he'd done to her under the curse of the word 'jerk,' he did still love her... and also proving that that wasn't the kind of love he thought she might have thought, the one that caused the 'oh no, I've said too much' look. Now her heart was beating a mile a minute as a flush returned to her face. Could it be possible he had those kind of feelings? Even though he was her brother? And if he did, how did she feel about it?
She wasn't sure about that, but there was no sense in worrying about it if there was another explanation, so she gave him that chance. "But why did you kiss me then?"
"Because I thought it might be fun. That's all this is, Susan. Don't flatter yourself, twerp. There's nothing romantic going on, here, I'm just having fun playing with you. That's what I like most about you, lately... you're just a compliant little fuck toy, to use however I want."
"I'm not a... fuck toy." She hesitated over the swear, but got it out, only to realize with horror that she shouldn't have said anything, for her brother had that devious grin on his face.
"No? Well, let's see about that."
She saw him hop over a pile of clothes and make a reach for his drawing-desk, and Susan knew she only had seconds. It was either stay there and take another mark, become a 'fuck toy,' whatever that entailed, or run. She chose to run, sliding off the bed and landing on still unsteady legs, just as he turned around, the magic marker in his hand. She bolted out of the room, and heard him behind her, but didn't dare look back, not even really thinking. The last time she'd run, he caught her easily, but this time she had more of a head start, and he didn't seem to be giving it his all... maybe he was tired out from the fucking.
"You can run," he teased, "but we both know how this is going to end."
It was true, or mostly true, because Susan realized as soon as she reached the bottom of the stairs that there wasn't exactly anywhere to go... or, at least, any good options. She made a run for, and then skidded to a stop in front of, the front door.
She knew she could go outside, and could probably escape her brother that way. The problem was, she was completely naked, with nasty marker-writing all over her, and her brother's semen dripping out of her pussy (she could, she realized once she stopped, even feel it sliding down her thighs). The price of escape was exposure, both for her and her brother... she would have to face the humiliation of everybody seeing her naked, but, even worse than that, what had happened would get out, that her brother had written everything, had had sex with her. He'd go to jail, unless she could convince people about the magic, and even then, that might not be enough to save him. After all, it might not be his fault he's a jerk, but even jerks are expected to follow the law. And it would ruin his life, her life, the whole family's lives... mostly Keith's, though. She loved him too much for that, and she knew he loved her, too, even if she was wrong about it being more than family love.
By the time she'd turned away from the door, there he was, naked with the magic marker in his hands, looking... not angry, but annoyed. In that second, she'd realized she had another option... had, in the past tense, for there was no way she could make it past Keith now. If, instead of running for the door, she had run for the bathroom, she could have locked herself in and been safe from the marker. It wasn't a perfect solution, by any means. She'd have to hope he'd lose interest in it, or their parents got home, before she became too horny, or her sperm addiction became too intense... she now knew if she got like too bad she'd beg him to write on her just so that he'd satisfy her.
There was no escaping it, she had to face what she was about to become. She did give one half-hearted attempt to duck past him, but he grabbed her arm and dragged her towards the couch. "Please, Keith... don't write anything else... it's hard enough already..."
"You know, I wasn't really going to write it... I was just going to scare you," he said. "But then you ran, so I'm afraid I need to teach you a lesson." He fell, seated, into the couch, and dragged her into his lap. She could feel his dick bumping against her, hard once again, not fully, but clearly the chase had excited him. "Stop squirming, or I'll make you stupid, too." That did it. She just gave in, going limp. She might not be brilliant, but if she was going to find any way out of this, she couldn't afford to be stupid, too. Keith smiled at her sudden obedience. "There, see... you want this, don't you? You'd like to be my little fuck toy..."
How bad could it be? she wondered. Her eyes widened as he dropped the pen down to her chest, above her nipples, around the level of her breastbone. Which meant she'd have to wear clothes that covered it, nothing low-cut, even to the relatively modest level that was perfectly fine for a girl her age. Even a loose t-shirt might expose the writing if she bent over in front of somebody. She had clothes that would work, but the image that wouldn't leave her mind was having to wear a turtleneck for a week. She didn't want that... it was summer! Bad enough she couldn't wear short shorts. "But..." she said, weakly, hoping he wouldn't take it as a struggle.
"Shhh," he said, and it was too late already, he had already written the 'F'. The damage was done, especially when he completed the 'FUCK'. After that, she mentally sorted through her favorite outfits to try and find ones she could still wear. "There we go," he said, once he was done, and, to Susan's surprise, he gave her a sudden soft kiss on her forehead. The unexpected affection startled her, especially coming from a jerk, but she didn't know how to react, or how she was supposed to react. Instead, she focused on the bigger issue. She bent her chin as far as it could go, and read what was now written there. Yep, she was a fuck toy.
"Feel any different?"
She waited a few seconds to answer... it sometimes seemed to take a while to kick in. But she didn't feel any different, so she said, "No." But then, she'd never even heard the term 'fuck toy' before. Did she need to know what the words meant for it to work? She didn't think so, she only had a vague idea what 'horny' meant, and she was absolutely now super horny most of the time.
So, what was the essential nature of a 'fuck toy'? It was two words, or at least it looked like it... 'fuck' and 'toy'. A toy for fucking, or a toy you could fuck, maybe... probably the first one. She remembered the Toy Story movies, which imagined a world where toys were alive, and maybe it was like that. They wanted to be played with, enjoyed it like nothing else in the world. If so, maybe... "Maybe you're a fuck toy already." Her brother finished the unvoiced thought.
She shrugged. "Or maybe nothing'll happen until you try to fuck me." The swear came out this time with no hesitation or blush or stumbling. That was new.
His penis grew an extra half-inch, and went from an engorged but still dangly appendage to a rigid bouncy thing that seemed to have a life and personality. "Oh? Is that a request?"
"If you're going to fuck me, I don't really have much choice, do I?" But she DID want it to happen, and she spread her legs.
He looked down at her, poked a finger in her pussy which was, as usual, sopping wet. "Yeah, but you seem like you want it. Like a good fuck toy."
"Some of that's you," she pointed out. "You squirted a lot in me last time, and it hasn't all leaked out." It wasn't meant as complaint, she just thought it needed to be said.
"Hmmm," he said, still looking down there, then he ran the head of his penis in the sloppy mess again and asked, "Still mad at me for taking your virginity?"
"No," she said. "It's okay." She didn't even mind the kiss, not that much.
"Good. I'm glad." It was said with remarkable gentleness, and then he added, "So I might as well be the first to fuck your ass, too. Turn over." He gave her space to move.
She trembled, with excitement, not fear, and got on her knees, on the cushions, her arms braced against the back of the couch, raised, waiting.
When he came back, she felt his dick against her pussy first again, it flexed and seemed to grow against her, forcing apart her lips, and then he withdrew and spread her butt cheeks. The warm, slick head grazed her tight rectum, which flexed against it at the moment of contact, like she was giving it a single kiss.
There was no time for a second... just like a guy, it took one kiss for an invitation, and pushed its way in. And contrary to what she'd been taught about the world said, she loved it even more for that, no asking for permission, it just knew what it wanted and pushed, making her accept it, the biggest thing she'd ever had up there.
Luckily I love anal stuff, she thought, and pushed back down against him with a grunt, getting deeper inside, and instinctively squeezing against him, not even to try and force him out, just trying to make it as tight as possible. A hard cock was better than a small finger, and much better than a pen, the slightly yielding nature of it made it feel less like an invasion and more like a playful struggle, a wrestling match with a perfectly matched opponent. She couldn't win, but she couldn't lose either. She jiggled her ass and gave a groan.
"That's right... it's okay to show you love it."
It was like a switch flipped in her head, and suddenly she was shouting like something in a porn video, "Oh, yeah... I love it... harder... harder..." He gave it to her harder. "Fuck my ass!" The vehemence, the unbridled brazenness of the words shocked her even as they left her mouth, and she figured that this was another quality of a fuck toy... that she would behave how the person fucking her wanted. Keith suggested he wanted her to be louder, to show how much she loved it, and that's what she was doing... and she did love it, she only wanted it more. Thankfully, he was doing his best to comply, pressing in deeper, soon as deep as he could go, she could feel his belly against her butt, and his balls slamming against her pussy, intensifying the pleasure, and making her want to be even louder. "Yeah... yeah... fuck me... fuck my ass.... it's so good." He picked up speed, slamming into her again and again more like a machine than a person. The silence helped fuel that impression, he hadn't said much, and she wasn't looking at him, so she just felt her ass being filled repeatedly, the pounding, the sense of being just taking pleasure rather than having to do anything for it. She could just let herself go, let the pleasure build, moan loudly or ask her brother to fuck her again, until... "I'm almost there... don't stop... oh God..." and she let out a high-pitched yell as an orgasm rippled through her.
Keith kept pounding her all the way through it, but more slowly, and Susan felt a wet point on her back, one that moved. He was writing again, she realized, and she knew she should care, but she didn't, she was enjoying the orgasm too much. After, she wanted to ask about it, but he'd picked up speed again and she decided she should just be a good fuck toy and worry about that later. It was less than a minute after she came down from the high of her orgasm that his hands dug into her buttocks almost painfully, and he started grunting with every thrust, and then he slowed down again... not like when he was writing, this time it was more deliberate. He was giving thrusts that were as deep as possible and staying deep for seconds. On the third of these deep thrusts, he groaned and she could feel him squirting inside her...
Her mind exploded. This time, there was no buildup, no warning, she was just suddenly overwhelmed with pleasure so intense she had to close her eyes, raise her face to the ceiling and open her mouth... she couldn't even say later if she cried out, she was deaf as well as blind, all there was, was sensation.
He pulled his penis out and wiped it on the top of her ass, not just on, but all around, like she was now just good for that purpose. She looked back over her shoulder, and he was wiping his forehead with the back of the hand that held the pen, which made her remember how he'd used it while she was cumming. "Did you write something else on me?"
"Calm your tits," he said. "It was nothing bad."
She strained her neck to try to read it, but it was no use, it was either right above or right below the 'super horny' mark and she couldn't read it without a mirror. "What's it say?"
"Infertile," he said. "You couldn't get pregnant that way, anyway, but I think I'm going to be using my fuck toy a lot, and I don't want there to be any accidents."
She relaxed. "Oh. Okay, then." That was a good thing, she decided. She certain didn't want to get pregnant... imagine going to school in the new year with a big fat pregnancy belly, everybody knowing... she blushed at just the thought, and shook her head to clear it. "I wish you wouldn't just write stuff on me, though."
He wiggled the marker. "Too bad, I've got the pen."
Susan turned over to sit on the couch, worrying a little about whether his cum would be leaking out of her and onto the couch, and then realizing if it did stain, she'd already done it with the cum on her ass. Too late to worry about it, and she had something else on her mind. "Wait a minute... does this mean you believe it now?"
He shrugged. "Not completely, but it's better to be safe than sorry, right?"
Not completely believing also meant not completely disbelieving. "But you think it's possible, right?"
"I think it's possible you aren't completely stupid and naive for believing it." He thrust a hand to her hair, tousled it in the way he often did, when he was teasing her, or about to. "I mean you're still stupid and naive, but for other reasons." Susan made a face, but he just laughed and walked off, back up the stairs, leaving her alone, yet another sign that sex was all she was good for. "See you the next time I get horny," he said, just before slamming the door to his room.
Maybe it was all she was good for. She was a fuck toy, now, and what else was a toy good for than playing with? Maybe she should just lie here on the couch, leaking cum, until the next time she was needed.
No, she thought, forcefully rejecting the idea, despite, or maybe because of, how appealing it was. She may be a fuck toy, but she wasn't JUST a fuck toy. She was a person, and even through all of this, she'd stay one. She still had dreams, she still wanted to be a writer, she still wanted to travel the world, visit Disneyland, go to Rome, see Stonehenge, she still wanted to find somebody who'd love her for her, someday. And, now, to find somebody who was really good at sex, the way Keith was, at least while she was a super horny fuck toy who loved anal stuff. She hoped she still enjoyed it as much when the marks wore off.
Keith was good at sex, and might love her that way... and she could see herself loving him back that way... but she needed him not to be a jerk, first. As much as she liked some of the things he'd done to her, she couldn't live like this.
That was why she forced herself to get up. First, she took a trip to the bathroom, she had to pee, and took the opportunity to clean herself too. Next, she returned to the couch and wiped it down, trying to get as much of the cum off as she could. There was still a long wet spot, but she hoped it would dry before her parents got home, and, if she remembered, she'd Febreeze it later or spill some food she could claim was the source of the stain. She still didn't want Keith to get caught.
After that, she went back upstairs and got her clothes on. It felt more dignified, somehow. The funny thing was, before that day, she had often had fantasies of walking around the house naked all day. She'd done it in her room for long periods of time, but only when nobody was supposed to be home. That was as brave as she got in reality, at least since she was a six or seven years old, but in fantasy, she'd walk around the house, sometimes even be brave enough to walk across open windows and pretend not to notice that people could see in. In some of her fantasies, her family were there, noticing but not reacting, pretending this was normal.
Now, the fantasy was still attractive, but she felt she needed the clothes to convince herself she was a real person, not just an object, something to be repeatedly felt. So, she dressed, returned to her room, and wrote. This time, rare for her, she wrote autobiographically, setting down the story of her first time, from her perspective... not all the details, the context, she didn't mention the marker, or that it was Keith, or even that it was her, she just concentrated on the feelings of one girl experiencing her first time with an older boy who didn't ask permission. She didn't intend anybody to ever read it, it was just her instinct to get it out, and it came out, all in a rush.
She called the short story "Felt."
When she completed it, it was like a weight had lifted off her shoulders. It wasn't that it made it go away... she still had the magic marks, and even writing the story was making her super-horniness kick in again, but she felt a lot better, like now that it was in a story, it made sense, a curious blend of real and not-real, which was how she felt. That was the power of words, they didn't have to be literally true to reflect how things were, how things felt. And maybe one more reason she felt better, was because if she could use what happened in a story, then, she might be a super-horny fuck toy who was addicted to cum, but above all that, she was a writer, writing what she knew. Now, for the first time, she had a story worth telling, and the promise of more to come. Maybe, she thought, one of them will be a love story. Maybe she already was in one. Who could say when one story ended and another began? The story 'Felt' was just a small part of another, but it was the only one she could put down on paper at that moment.
Her first worthwhile true story written, she answered a phone call from her friend Dana, the girl she'd once took provocative pics with and sent them across the Internet, and they chatted a while, gossiped. Dana suggested she come over and hang out, but Susan didn't want to, not trusting herself out around other people, not sure she couldn't have lots more fun with Keith. So she claimed she still wasn't feeling well, the excuse she'd used for her foot odor problem, and, after a few more minutes of silly but fun conversation, ended the call, and got undressed.
She'd had fun pretending to be a person, but she was ready to be a fuck toy again.
This time, Keith had her get on top. "Geez, you're wearing me, out," he said, when Susan appeared at his door, naked, although he sounded more amused than worn out. "I'll fuck you, but you're going to have to do most of the work, squirt." He took her to his bed, and he didn't even bother to get undressed again. He lay down and unzipped his pants, pulled his cock out so that it was standing upright, and told her to climb on.
She complied, because what other choice did she have? He wanted to fuck, and she did, too. She straddled him, and stood on her knees to aim his dick towards her ass-cheeks, planning to put it up her butt, but with his hand he redirected it so it slapped up against her pussy lips. "You can't get pregnant, might as well do it the real way."
"But I love anal stuff," she said.
"And I love your cunt." That word made her blush, that was like, one of the ultra-bad words, and one of the few she still hadn't said out loud. The head of Keith's cock pulsed against her wet pussy... or her wet cunt, as she deliberately tried to think of it, just for that little extra feel of dirtiness that she realized she was starting to crave. She might have loved anal, but mostly, she just wanted Keith inside of her somewhere, so she didn't argue any more, just let him slide inside.
One he was settled inside, she lowered herself, going all the way down until there was that flush of almost-pain... not actual pain, there hadn't been any of that in a while, but it was like a warning that pain might come if he got any deeper. Luckily that wasn't possible. He was at his deepest inside her, and she felt that deep connection again, but there was one thing missing, the motion. So she began to push off him, then fall back, using her hands on his chest, almost like she was trying to do CPR.
And, because she was a fuck toy, and that was what he liked, she started compulsively talking, "Oh, god, yeah, I love it, I love your cock, it feels so good in my cunt..." There was that word, one more taboo broken, without even thinking about it. A few 'mmms' followed next, and then she talked about how big Keith's cock was, how much she loved it, how she wanted him to cum in her cunt... she didn't think about most of these words, not really, even though they were true, they just ran out of her automatically. In her mind, she just enjoyed the ride. She told him to fuck her, even though it was really her fucking him, she was indeed doing all the work, but feeling him underneath her and inside her was more than enough to get the job done, and she came, screaming, on top of him.
This time, because she was riding him, when the orgasm overtook her, the motion stopped too, for the most part, and it seemed less intense for all of that, but still enough to make her toes curl. When she opened her eyes, she looked down and saw Keith with a wincing grimace on his face, and a finger in each ear. "Jesus Christ, Suze..."
She didn't reply... he was still hard inside of her, and that meant she still had a job to do, and began riding him again, a motion that felt a lot like horseback riding... she didn't think she'd ever be able to ride a horse again without thinking of sex. "Oh yeah... yeah..." That uncontrollable voice started again, telling him to fuck her, but, to her surprise, he didn't seem to be into it. His face was almost blank and, for a second, it looked like he was rolling her eyes. She slowed, and asked with a trembling voice, "What? Am I doing something wrong?"
"No, it's just... the dirty talk is really over the top."
"But... you TOLD me to..."
"I didn't want you to be fake about it." She didn't think of it as fake... she wouldn't have done it if he hadn't asked, but it's what she would have said if she did feel comfortable enough to express her innermost desires so vocally.
"So what do you want me to do?"
"Just cut it out. Go back to the way you were before. I liked it better when you only made noises when it was like you couldn't help it."
"Okay," she said, and started moving again, more slowly, and definitely more quietly. The uncontrollable voice was gone, like a switch had flicked off. As a fuck toy, she was being what he wanted, and she took some comfort in the fact that what he wanted was her normal self. In fact, she liked that thought so much that she let out a few "mmm" sounds on her own, and this seemed to make Keith smile.
She liked when he smiled. And she liked him looking at her while they fucked, while he felt her and she felt him, and she was giving him so much pleasure and he was doing the same for hers. She thought about leaning forward and kissing him on the lips, using tongue, like he'd done that one time, but she wasn't sure if that was what he wanted, and finally decided it wasn't what she wanted. At least, she didn't want to lean forward... she wanted the kiss, but she wanted him to kiss her. Having a kiss forced on you was better than being the one to make the first move. Maybe Keith was right, the best kisses were the stolen kind, where he doesn't ask, he just wants to kiss you enough that he does without asking. What better proof of his feelings?
He didn't kiss her, but, pretty soon, he did cum, and that was when Susan got her second surprise of being a fuck toy. Like the last time, the moment he came inside her, she was slammed into a surprise orgasm, one that made her squeal, not as loud or elaborate as the scream of her first one, but more genuine. Pleasure mixed with surprise because she wasn't ready for another orgasm. After he was done cumming inside of her, she collapsed against his chest.
He stroked her hair gently, then run his hands along the back of her neck. "Did you cum when I did?" he asked.
"Yeah. I did last time, too, when you shot off in my ass. I think it's part of being a fuck toy." After that revelation, she tilted her head to look him in the eyes again. "Is that what fuck toys do? Do they cum when guys do?"
"I don't know," he admitted, which surprised her. He didn't like to admit he didn't know something. "I'm not sure there's an actual definition for them. But, I guess it makes sense. I mean, what good is a toy if you still need to play with it after you're done?" He rolled her off him, not ungently, but without any apparent concern for how much she just liked laying with him, either. What a jerk. "Speaking of which," he said. He pulled his wilted cock into his pants, before she could get her bearings again and, as was her first instinct, stick it in her mouth to suck it until he pulled it out. Maybe that didn't interest him. "I've got to get back to my drawing."
He left her there, on his bed and went to work, drawing not with the magic marker, but a sharpie. She couldn't see his work, and, at the moment, she didn't care. There were other things, other needs, to take care of, and, on his bed, she spread her legs and began scooping cum from inside of her pussy and transferring it greedily to her lips. She had an addiction to feed, and that was as good a way to do it as any... maybe it was just as well he didn't fuck her ass. It was too gross to consider drinking the cum out of her ass and yet, she had the feeling that if it had been long enough, she'd do exactly that. As it was, it was a little disgusting to think about, eating from her own pussy, gathering the runny, slimy liquid on her fingers and swallowing it, but at least it still tasted good.
After a couple of minutes, he finally looked up from the 'in the zone' state he sometimes got into while drawing, and watched her feeding herself on his cum. "What are you doing?"
She glared at him. "I'm addicted to cum, remember?"
He broke into a grin. "Right." He turned back to make another few lines, but now, every so often, would turn back to watch. "You're turning into quite the little cumslut, aren't you?"
"Not turning," she stressed. She brushed her hair out of her eye again, this time with the back of her hand... she didn't want cum in her hair. "Turned. Turned into. By you. All the things you wrote."
He scoffed. "Well, you'd better get used to it. It's not like I'm going to change it."
"You could," she said. "You could write 'Not' in front of 'Addicted to Cum', maybe." Maybe 'Super Horny' too, although deep down she wasn't sure she wanted that to go away, it made her feel alive. She wasn't even sure she wanted to not be a fuck toy. But being addicted to cum... that was going to be a problem.
Keith spun his chair around to look at her directly, instead of over-the-shoulder as he'd been doing. "And why would I want to do that? It's so much fun watching you squirm... for my sperm." He seemed to add the last part as an afterthought, like he just realized the rhyme.
"Because Mom and Dad are going to be home soon."
That got him out of the chair entirely. He sprung out, and was to the bed in an instant, his grin gone, expression dark. His rough hand closed around her face, pushing her lips together. "What, you're going to tell on me?"
"No," she said through lips mooshed together at the sides.
"Because everybody knows a good fuck toy never tells."
She wasn't sure if that was true... it might be. In Toy Story, the toys instinctively kept their natures a secret, although that wasn't a perfect analogy because everybody already knew they were toys, just not that they were talking ones with a life of their own. Susan didn't want to tell anyone Keith made her a fuck toy, but how do you know if you don't want to tell because you don't, or because it was in the nature of a fuck toy? Maybe it just didn't matter. "I wouldn't tell," she said, and he finally stopped squeezing her mouth, but left his hand on her face like he might do so again at any moment. She went on, "I wouldn't tell on you, Keith, I don't WANT you to get in trouble..."
His body relaxed, and he dropped his hand entirely. "So why are you bringing up Mom and Dad? It kind of ruins the mood."
"Because they're going to find out! They're not stupid... and what if I get a craving in the middle of the night and can't control it."
"You'd better control it."
She ignored him, and went on, "And you're not even thinking about what happens if they see the marks? I already have to be careful about what I wear, and all it'll take is Mom coming in without knocking while I'm getting ready for bed, or my shirt riding up a little on my back... sooner or later, they'll see what you did..."
His lips twitched, like he was about to say 'good point' or something, but couldn't bring himself to actually do it out loud. Instead, what he said was, "Hmm." A few seconds later, he patted her thigh and said, "Go to your room."
"I have some stuff to do, and you're distracting me. Go to your room, finish eating up all that cum, and let me think."
"Okay, but can you just write..."
His voice was firm. "No." But then he relented and said, "Not now. If I have to, I'll do it right before they get home."
She figured it was the best she was going to get, so she scooted past him to the edge of the bed and stood up. On her way out, she spared a glance at her drawing table... there was a drawing of a young girl, short hair with long bangs in front, naked. Although it was done with markers, the lines were so clean, exact, and everything looked right, real, even the hands were perfect, not malformed like before. She only saw it for a second, but she could immediately tell it was the best thing he'd ever drawn.
It was only after Keith guided her out and closed the door behind her that she realized that it was her. She wasn't 100% sure... it was done in the anime style her brother liked, but the short dark hair matched hers (of course, it was black, but you couldn't get brown with a black marker), and the body type sure looked like hers... virtually no body at all, except a bit of a waist, and it was all well drawn. He had taken those nude photos, maybe having a reference really made a difference. Or maybe she had just inspired him... she liked that idea that best. She was like a, what was the word... muse.
Except he didn't want her around now, which hurt, even if it was partly because she scared him about Mom and Dad. Maybe he was in there panicking... keeping calm on the outside, but stressing out and pacing in the privacy of his room. The thought made her stomach roil... she always got nervous when she thought Keith was suffering, and whenever their parents yelled at him it felt like she wanted to throw up... it was worse than when they were yelling at her. In fact, she'd rather they yell at her, and sometimes in those moments she wished she could trade places with him and take the yelling instead, and afterwards her first instinct was always to go cheer him up. It seemed stupid, because Keith never seemed to care about being yelled at, during or after, but she always worried that inside he was fragile.
That was probably hopeless fantasy, she knew that, but what she knew was secondary to what she felt. She wanted to run to Keith, tell him it was okay, tell him that even if their parents found out about the marks, she'd claim she wrote it herself... and she would do that if she thought it would do any good, but she was realistic enough to know that they'd never believe her. She couldn't exactly write legibly on her own back.
She thought about this sitting on the edge of her bed, still trying to get the last drips of cum by dipping her fingers in her pussy and licking them clean, although by this point she was pretty sure all the juices were hers. That was when she heard Keith's door open. She went to her own door, planning to assure him it would be okay, she'd do her best, keep covered all week, never let anybody see the marks. But when she opened the door, he had his back to her, headed down the hall, so she didn't speak up, just watched. He went into the master bedroom.
Susan crept out of her room, tiptoeing down the hall, sure he'd be enraged if he caught her spying on him, but unable to resist. What was he doing? The sound of a light switch gave her a clue... he hadn't turned on the master bedroom light, so it must be the closet or their bathroom.
A squeak told her it was the bathroom, she remembered the distinctive sound of the medicine cabinet built behind the mirror. What did he want in there? She smiled as an idea hit her... chemicals. He was looking for something that might wash the ink away... like hydrogen peroxide, that Mom sometimes brought out to treat minor scrapes. She wasn't sure it would work on the ink, but it wouldn't hurt to try, and there might be other chemicals in there that would do a better job. She smiled triumphantly... and then realized she'd better get back to her room. If he caught her spying, he might decide not to remove the marks, just for spite. So she dashed back behind the safety of her door, and waited for him to come for her.
Except, he never did. Instead, he went downstairs, and Susan hoped he was just looking for more, or better, chemicals, but this time, decided not to try to spy. She just waited, hopefully, but that hope drained as long stretches of time passed and he didn't come, and then vanished entirely when the phone rang. Keith answered it, and then about a minute later, knocked at her door.
"They're on their way home, so if you want one last fix, this is your last chance."
"Yes please." Susan scooted right off the edge of her bed... she was already on her way to super-horniness again, and was starting to think about nothing other than the creamy taste of his cum, and her stomach was jumping at the thought that she might not have any all night. He unzipped and pulled out his cock, pushing it close enough to her that her cock sucker instincts came in, full force. She went down on him eagerly, hungrily, not just driven by her need and nature but the fear that they'll hear the door downstairs and have to stop.
Finally, with him holding her hair, she got her reward, the delicious gooey treat that ran down the back of her tongue as she swallowed and swallowed.... There wasn't as much of it this time... maybe she really was draining him dry... but it was enough to quiet the need. When he stopped squirting, she went to work cleaning his cock with her tongue, unwilling to let go until he physically pulled away from her... which he did.
"Okay, now let's get you off..." She nodded, and only then noticed that she didn't have an orgasm when he came in her mouth. She did when he came in her ass or pussy. Did fuck toys not get off from oral sex? It must be the case, she decided, otherwise she would have. It wasn't as though he fucked her mouth, anyway, and maybe that was the difference, if she was a fuck toy and 'fucking' wasn't involved, she wouldn't cum when he did, but that didn't matter right then... what did matter was that she was super horny.
He gave her the shocker again, and this time, she didn't even get naked... she had gotten dressed after last time, but this time in a skirt... a long one, long enough to cover 'cock sucker', but it could easily be pushed up, and her soggy panties drawn down, so he could finger her on her bed until she writhed with yet another orgasm. She'd long ago lost count of how many she'd had, and could no longer imagine how she'd lived without it for twelve years. It was like she'd lived her whole life in a cave, and thought that was what life was, but then suddenly discovered she could go outside into the grass and flowers and play in the light and warmth of the sun. That was another simile she liked, and she made a note of that to use later in her writing.
As she regained her breath from the orgasm, Keith stroked her leg, the one that proclaimed her a cock sucker, gently with the fingertips of one hand, and then folded the skirt over it. He bobbed his head from side to side, considering, presumably, how well it was covered up, and then said, "Put something else on, and then go use some mouthwash. Tonight, we have to be extra careful."
Tonight? she wondered. Did that mean he did have a plan to remove the marks after all? She smiled and nodded, and took her skirt off, replacing it with a fresh pair of panties and some heavy jeans. She also double-checked in the mirror... her shirt didn't reveal anything, even when she bent over, and didn't rise up to reveal bare, but written-on, back in any position she could see. She nodded at her brother, who actually smiled at her. She stepped into the washroom to fix her breath, and after that, they were ready, presentable, for when their parents got home.
They came through the door five minutes later. Mom came in first, dressed in a knee-length grey skirt and striped blouse, with a light jacket over top. The first thing she did after she tottered in and put her stack of folders on the table was take off her heels and rub her feet. Dad followed a few steps behind, in a khaki pants and a blue polo shirt. He put his briefcase by the door and ran to the washroom.
Susan finished coming down the stairs she was descending when they entered, and gave her Mom a hug as she usually did, although this time a little tentatively, worried that her mother could somehow sense that she was no longer a virgin. There wasn't a whole lot she couldn't share with her mother, but now there was a big divide between them, and she half-expected her mother would notice it immediately. But she didn't, just asked how her day was. Susan didn't know how to answer, so she just shrugged, and moved on to hug Dad, who had returned from a quick post-work pee. He squeezed her close and patted her back.
Keith came out then, with a big plastic smile. "Hi. How was your day?"
"Dull," Dad said simply, but then it usually was. He was one of three accountants at a big company.
Mom exhaled, like she was actually letting off steam that had built up. "Well, I got slammed today."
That gave Dad a devilish grin. "Uh-oh. Who was it? Do I need to file for divorce?"
Mom jabbed him in the gut with an elbow. "Paul, I wish you wouldn't talk like that. Don't you care about what your kids hear?"
"Oh, they know I'm only joking." He ruffled Susan's hair like that would reassure her if she was upset, but she wasn't, Dad often made jokes that were like that, taking something innocent somebody said and implying it was dirty. He'd never done it to her, but to Mom and their other adult friends... mostly Mom, who it always frustrated. That's probably why he kept doing it.
"The point is, it's not an appropriate joke."
"Those are the best kind."
Mom just sighed, like she was tired of arguing, and said, "Let me just go up and change and I'll get started on dinner."
"Actually," Keith said, "you both work so hard, I figured I'd make things easier on you, and take care of dinner myself today."
That got everybody to stop in their tracks and just stare at him, Susan included. He was being far too nice, not a jerk at all. Did he write 'not a' above the 'jerk' mark she gave him? Maybe that eliminated his natural jerkiness, that everybody had, and turned him into a super-nice guy. That might be a pleasant change.
Mom's suspicions were more down-to-earth. "What did you do?"
"Then what do you want?"
"What makes you think I want something?"
Mom continued to stare at him. "You're volunteering. To do work."
"It is somewhat unprecedented," Dad agreed.
"Geez, I just thought I'd do something nice," he said, face turning red, mouth curling the plastic smile into a grumpy frown. "I mean can you blame me for not doing anything when you act like a bi..." He bit the word off before he could finish it. "I mean, when you make a big deal about it, and question my motives, and, like, why would I ever want to do anything nice when I'm treated like that?" He was practically sputtering with anger, and Susan had to wonder... would a super-nice guy freak out like that?
"You don't even know how to cook..." Dad said.
"Of course I know how to cook. I just don't do it in front of you. You guys never have any faith in me, it's really pissing me off." Susan tensed, 'pissed off', was one of those phrases like 'bitch', or 'sucked' that weren't technically swear words, but could still provoke punishment if their parents were in a bad mood. This time, there was no response, perhaps because Keith took a deep breath and said, "Look, I just found a recipe on the Internet and I want to try it out, okay?"
Mom held up her hands in mock surrender. "Fine. If you want to help out a little more around the house, don't let me stand in your way." She started up the stairs. "Maybe you could clean a little while you're home all day, too."
Dad just shrugged and said, "I look forward to seeing what you've got. Especially if you can cook better than your mother."
"I heard that."
He grinned, and called up, "Would have been wasted if you didn't!" Dad went into the living room to watch TV, sitting in his easy chair, the Dad chair. Keith went into the kitchen.
Susan followed him, and watched in silence as he got out a cutting board and a bowl, some shredded cheese and vegetables. He washed his hands, and began chopping things up and putting them in the bowl. After watching for a minute, she said, "I've never seen you cook. At least nothing that didn't go in the microwave." Okay, a few things that could just be shoved in the oven for twenty minutes with no extra work required.
He grinned at her, looked around to make sure nobody could see, and then pulled up the sleeve of his shirt. There, on his upper arm, she could see, written in magic marker, "Good Cook." The words were squiggly, and in that position it must have been a little hard to write, but it was legible.
Her eyes widened... for the first time, proof that he did believe. She wanted to talk to him about it, but Dad was right in the next room, and anyway, Keith cut off the idea by saying, "Now get lost, I don't want you in here distracting me."
She left, and went to sit with her dad, watching TV. He usually liked reruns of old sitcoms, like from five or ten years back, and they could be fun to watch, but mostly she liked spending time with Dad, not having to talk, just being in the same space.
A few minutes into watching TV, there was a blunt, hammering sound from the kitchen, like somebody pounding their fist against a table. Shortly after that, Mom came downstairs, now dressed in shorts and a short-sleeved top, and darted into the kitchen. That didn't last long before Susan heard her brother's exasperated voice saying, "God, Mom, just let me do this myself! Get out!" And, to Susan's surprise, Mom did leave the kitchen. Keith followed her out just long enough to say, "This is exactly why I don't do things like this more often, because you make it such a chore."
Mom shook her head, not even looking at him, but Susan caught a roll of her eye. "Fine, fine, do it yourself!" She sat down to watch some TV, just for a minute or two, and then went back upstairs, taking the files she brought home with her. Mom often did that, brought work home and did it in her room.
Keith came out after putting everything in the oven, and sat at the other end of the couch from Susan, where their Mom briefly sat before leaving. Unconsciously, she began to draw her knees up to her chest, and wiggled them, squeezing her thighs together, then letting them fall apart, again and again. "Somebody's antsy," Dad said, making her blush and drawing her attention to it. The horniness had crept up on her again.
"Sorry," she said, and changed position... then changed it again. And again. None of the positions seemed much better, possibly because none of them were with her legs spread and in the air, and her brother on top of her, treating her like the fuck toy she was.
"Now you're making ME antsy," her Dad said, after she settled for a while, lying belly-down and taking up two-thirds of the couch, her feet in the air, wiggling. "What's wrong with you today?"
"Sorry," she said again and tried to still her leg movements at least. "I guess I'm just hungry." She didn't add that what she was hungry for was cum.
He nodded. "It does smell pretty good. I'm impressed, Keith." Keith shrugged at the compliment. "What is it?"
"Stuffed chicken with mushroom rice and peas. Could have done better if we had better ingredients, but I had to work with what I had." While Keith was answering, Susan had realized that her face was right above the spot that the cum had dripped and, seeing her father was staring at the TV, she extended a tongue out experimentally, touching it to the spot, looking for a hint of the taste that she had come to rely on. She thought it was there, but just a hint, so barely noticeable that she wasn't sure she didn't just imagine it, but her tongue circled anyway. Keith spotted her, looked directly at Susan and said, "It's still going to be a while, so maybe you should go up to your room and wait. You won't think about it if you're doing something else." The way he stared intently into her eyes, she knew it was an order. She didn't have to follow his orders, but she thought it would be a good idea and followed the advice anyway... if nothing else she should change her panties before these ones completely soaked through and began to show through her pants.
Getting to her room didn't help much, but at least she could squirm in private, and, with difficulty, and playing her favorite songs, managed to distract herself enough that she made it to dinner, to eat the meal her brother not only cooked, but also served. It was simple, but looked like something you'd get in a restaurant or see on a cooking show, the peas were piled on top of the rice, both in neat, eye-catching circles, and with the stuffed chicken cut open nicely, letting beautiful tomatoes and cheese spill out. The plates looked all the same, with two exceptions. Keith put down a plate with a smaller breast in front of Susan, and in his own, there was a more distinct reddish color on the insides. "I put some extra hot sauce in mine," he explained.
"You could have put some in mine, too," Dad suggested.
"Sorry, Dad. You can always put it on top."
They dug in to eat, and Keith got a round of compliments, which he accepted with a smug superiority, and a "I told you so, you guys really should have more faith in how awesome I am," and Susan had to agree the food was pretty good... it was really good, well seasoned, juicy, and everything from the peas to the chicken was cooked properly. Mom asked a few times about what was in it, but Keith just smiled and said he wasn't going to reveal his secret ingredients, and she seemed to trust that, and Susan did too. Keith acted humble about the compliments, said he could probably do better, and complained he thought the cheese might have been a little stale, but Susan didn't notice any unusual flavors, and it was a good enough meal to take her mind off her horniness, at least for a while.
After dinner, Keith went up to his room, and insisted that since he cooked, Mom should do the dishes. Susan followed him upstairs, and, when they were alone in his room, whispered, "Keith, I really need it bad..."
He pushed her up against the wall beside the door, then bent down so he was eye level. "Can't risk it. Just keep it together a little longer."
That wasn't good enough. As soon as he stood up, considering the matter settled, she reached out and stroked his crotch. "At least let me suck your cock a little... it's your fault I need sperm."
"Not yet. Later maybe, but right now? Just go to your room and stay there. Don't do anything slutty."
She bit her lip and let out a grunt of frustration, but left, and lie on her bed with music on. She guessed he'd come to her after bedtime, and they'd try to have sex quietly, which thrilled her even as she was scared they would get caught. Of course, the fear was also part of the thrill... from now on, it was like they were walking a tightrope, wanting to have lots of sex but even being caught once would ruin everything... it made it like every time would be the last time, and how could that not be exciting? Maybe he'd clap a hand over her mouth so she didn't make any noise, do it on the floor so there'd be no sounds of creaky bedsprings.
Those thoughts, fantasies, carried her through the next few hours... she wanted to touch herself, maybe stick something up her ass, but Keith had said not to do anything slutty, and she'd have a lot of explaining to do if one of her parents came in to see that. But fantasizing while squeezing her thighs together both helped take the pressure off, made the wait bearable, and somehow made her crave an orgasm even more. She just had to make it to whenever her parents went to bed, usually sometime around eleven on weekdays.
As it turned out, it wasn't that long a wait. At around 8:30, Keith opened the door, carrying a can of coke. He thrust it in her direction and said simply, "here."
She took it in trembling hands, raised it to her face, and took a sniff. Cum. She greedily licked the top to get some that was left on the outside, before tipping the can upside down to let it drain on her tongue.
"Yeah, that's it, drink it all down..."
She tilted it... she had a feeling there was more in there, but it was either clinging to the sides or settled on the top but not near enough to the hole to slide out. "I wish it wasn't in a can," she said.
"I bet, you little slut. But I can't give you the dick yet... but don't worry, you won't have to wait much longer. They're already pretty drowsy."
She turned the can back to its side. "So, what? We're just waiting for them to fall asleep?"
That was his plan? There were so many holes. "But what if they wake up?" Besides that, it was too early for them to go to bed.
"Oh, they won't wake up." He seemed very confident about that, and then revealed why. "At least, they shouldn't, what with the sleeping pills."
"Sleeping pills?" It all came together. "You DRUGGED the food?"
"Only Mom and Dad's," he said. "It was my secret ingredient. I was so scared they were going to taste the ground-up pills, but they ate it all." Before she could say anything else, he added, "Now shush. Lay low until I call for you."
With that, he closed the door and left Susan alone in the room, a Coke can with a little bit of cum probably in it, and her thoughts. As she lay on her back on her bed, tonguing the opening of the upside-down can, she worried about Keith's suddenly-revealed genius plan. The thing of it was, it wasn't all that genius. Yes, they'd probably fall asleep. But they were Mom's pills... and she took sleeping pills now and then and has, at times, slept deeply for a couple hours, only to wake again in the middle of the night. What good would that be?
And what if something went wrong, he gave them too much? What was he thinking? Only a jerk would drug his parents just to have a little extra sex. The thought was no sooner formed than she remembered that, of course, he was a jerk, and that was her fault. And if anything bad happened to their parents, that would be her fault too.
But she couldn't think of anything to actually do that wouldn't also carry huge risks. So she tossed the empty can aside and waited, and the nervous tremors in her stomach competed with the ones between her legs, until finally her door squeaked open and her brother came for her. "Come on, they're out."
He took her hand and helped her get out of bed, then guided her to his room. On the way, she looked at the master bedroom... the door was closed, the lights were off. Her parents were asleep, and she just had to hope they stayed that way.
In Keith's room, he told her to take her clothes off, and she complied, her worries temporarily pushed to the background by that overwhelming need to be felt. Keith then stripped, and she noticed for the first time, "Good Cook" wasn't the only label he'd written on himself. "Jerk" was still there, and "Rich" was still there, of course, useless as the latter was because it couldn't do anything. "Great Artist" was now written on his thigh, above his knee, upside down from her perspective, but not from Keith's. And there was something on his lower leg, written the same way. She strained to read it. "Low Refractory Period," she said out loud. Okay, that was a word she didn't know. "What?"
"It means I can get hard after I cum, so I can fuck you all night if I want to."
They had a term for that? Wow. His cock was certainly hard now, but the sight was no longer threatening in the slightest, it was a good sign, although it was just out of reach and, she had to fight really hard to not close the distance so she could stick it in her mouth. She wanted to, but she thought she wanted it inside her ass or pussy more. And she still had other worries, worries she needed to voice before her mouth was full of her brother's pulsing manhood. "But what if they wake up...?"
"They're not going to wake up..." he insisted.
"But Mom sometimes..."
"Trust me." And he seemed so confident that, somehow, she did trust him, at least a little. "They're not going to wake up. Which means you're sleeping with me tonight, my little fuck toy." She shivered with excitement, and stared down at him again, then backed up onto the bed and spread her legs.
It was meant as an invitation, and her brother took it, falling between those legs, pushing his wonderful cock inside of her, repeating the sensation of being nearly, but not quite, torn apart. He was in her pussy again, and his hands roamed the rest of her body, playing with her face or hair, a finger dipped into her mouth, which she sucked on like a cock, or making some occasional play around her chest, squeezing her nipples and giving her sparks of pleasure. She loved it all, her only wish being he'd find something to stick in her ass, too, because she loved anal stuff. But she didn't say that, maybe a good little fuck toy didn't make demands, just played how her owner wanted to play.
The word 'owner' bounced around in her mind, along with her body for the next few thrusts. He'd called her his fuck toy... the word on her chest didn't specify who she belonged to, but she knew it had to be true regardless... who's else would she be? She belonged to him, now, body, mind, and maybe even soul.
That was why, when his hand cupped her chin and he leaned forward and, on a thrust in, brought his face to hers again, she opened her mouth eagerly, not just letting him kiss her, but kissing him back, as passionately as she knew how to do, which mostly meant dancing her tongue around, a dance that turned into a wrestling match, and letting him win that match. Maybe he did love her, not just like a brother, but like a man loves a woman, and, she thought, she could love him back that way.
He broke the kiss off, pounded her some more, and then kissed again, and once again, she kissed back, this time wrapping her arms around his neck to not let go, and moaning a little in her mouth. And then she, too, let go... it was an awkward position, with their differences in sizes, you could kiss and fuck at the same time, but she had to exert effort and he couldn't fuck her as powerfully, as deeply as she wanted him to.
Their orgasms came simultaneously, this time no double orgasm, so hers must have been triggered by him cumming inside of her, but she didn't care, an orgasm was an orgasm, and she rode it out like all the others, savoring it and knowing that it couldn't last forever... but at least it could be reached again in the future.
After the orgasm, she bounced forward and kissed him again, and he kissed her back, a little surprised, then broke it off and pulled out of her. "Let's go again," she suggested breathlessly. "In my ass, this time."
He grinned. "Maybe later."
"But I thought you said you could get hard again right away..."
"I can... but I'm tired as fuck. I had a long day."
She had to agree with that... it was so long, it felt like a lifetime since the day before. She'd become a whole other person since she was the shy, rarely-swearing virgin with temporarily stinky feet. "Okay."
"Scoot over." Susan complied, moving to the other edge of the bed. He lay in bed beside her, and turned off the lamp on the night table. It wasn't even past Susan's normal summertime bedtime, but the sun had recently set and so it was dark enough that they couldn't easily see each other.
A minute later, he turned towards her, and pulled her towards him, her butt finding a comfortable place up against his crotch, which, despite his low refractory period, wasn't hard again, and her back up against his sweaty, warm chest, close enough to feel his heartbeat and breathing slow down. She wasn't quite asleep, and her hands got busy between her legs.
"Are you sucking my cum off your fingers?" he asked seconds later, sounding half-asleep herself.
Her answer was soft, guilty, and came only after she pulled a slimy finger out of her mouth. "Yes."
"Good girl," he said, making her smile in the darkness.
He fell asleep, and as soon as she'd gotten as much cum as she thought she could, Susan closed her eyes and tried to as well, finding it easier than she expected despite the early hour. It really had been a long day.
It was also a long night. They didn't sleep through, it was more like a series of naps, after which she would awake to find a hard penis either a warm beacon against her body, or just about to be put inside her. In all cases, it ended up there anyway, even when Keith was hard while completely asleep, the temptation was too great and, considering she was a cock sucker, Susan found herself putting it in her mouth, which usually woke Keith and lead to something more.
That was what it was like the next time, Keith awoke to find her sucking him, and then turned her around and got her on her hands and knees, and fucked her ass until she had another two orgasms, to Keith's one, and, on the first, she bit back a scream that she would have thought would have woken even the most drugged-out parents in the world... but some noise got out, and worry kept her from sleeping after Keith was done and rolled over. He had no trouble. An hour later, during which she actually did doze off a few times without realizing it, despite her worries, Keith woke up with a start, aimed his hard cock, and fucked her again in the pussy. They both fell asleep after that, the house taking on a complete stillness, and Susan next woke to her brother's cock entering her pussy again, from their default spooning position, which would have offended her if she wasn't a fuck toy, and, after he was done, the soft kiss he placed on the back of her neck, a kiss that felt to her not passionate but romantic, that made her forget all about him starting to fuck her without bothering to wake her up first.
As dawn broke, she felt she needed her fix, and so slid down the bed so she could suck him off while he slept, figuring turnabout was fair play. It woke him, but this time he just let her continue to suck him, and then, after he came an unfortunately piddly amount, he pulled her back up and did her again, this time facing each other on their sides, her leg pinned under his body, which wasn't her favorite position and left her leg more asleep than she was, but she still came, and she liked the kissing that had returned this time around.
In the dawn's early light, she looked up on his sleeping face and felt the stirrings of love again, deciding that he wasn't such a bad guy, even if he was a jerk. Lots of girls fell for jerks, Keith had said it herself. And it wouldn't be forever... in about a week, the marking she'd made would wash off, and she'd have her brother again, only now they'd have this new, shared experience... and her own markings would be gone that same day, and they could talk, decide where to go from there, and, she hoped, they could decide to continue having sex and maybe see if there really were feelings. It was only a week. All magic came at a price, and maybe for the magic of love, true love, the price was a week of being a fuck toy to a jerk.
She could live like this a week. Easily. Maybe too easily. The worry was, if she'd ever want to give it up.
But then, she decided she might not have to. They could still use the marker, write on her, maybe make it somewhere easier to hide, like her feet, but she could become a fuck toy, or super horny again for him, and this time, now that he wasn't a jerk, she could trust that he'd never hurt her or anybody else, they could make deals, cross off the markings so she wasn't a fuck toy when it would be inconvenient to be one, or write "super horny only when Keith's around", or cut out the markers entirely when summer was over and she'd have to go back to school and change in the public change rooms and showers for gym.
Yes, she decided, watching her brother sleep. Once Keith was no longer a jerk, they could have the best of both worlds, they could make it work.
And then she heard her mother's voice calling her name frantically.
Keith woke up at the sound just as she flinched. "Shit," he said, sat bolt upright, pulled the light sheet over from the front of the bed. It was just enough to provide a little comfort if the night got too cold, but they'd been producing so much heat they hadn't needed it. Now, it was all they had for a shield, and Keith pulled it up over their naked waists just as the doorknob to his room started to turn.
Susan didn't know what to do, and so she ducked underneath the cover entirely, making herself visible only as an oversized lump on the middle of the bed, and she heard her mother's voice. "Where's Susan? She's not in her room and I can't find..." She stopped. "Is she in bed with you?"
"Yeah," Keith said. "Relax. It's no big deal."
"Susan," Mom said, and Susan's head emerged from the covers, and she was sure she was blushing beet red. Her face felt hot, and not just her face, her body felt like she had a fever and she hated being under the suddenly oppressively warm covers, but knew that the first thing Mom would see is the words "fuck toy" on her chest. Seeing only her unmarked face, Mom merely stared daggers at them and asked, "What are you two doing in bed together?"
"I told you, it's no big deal," Keith said calmly. "She had a nightmare and came to sleep with me. That's all. It comforts her."
Mom's face instantly relaxed. "Oh. Okay then. Aren't you a little old for that, Susan?"
"Sorry," she squeaked, her voice barely there. She couldn't believe Mom bought that, and was sure the ruse would be exposed at any second.
Mom did get closer, and seemed to sniff the air, then looked at Susan again, and her eyes locked on a bare shoulder. "What are you wearing?" She tugged at the cover and it slipped from between her fingers, not all the way down, but exposing her chest, and the words "Fuck Toy." "That is totally not appropriate," she said. "You can't crawl into your brother's bed wearing nothing."
"She's got her panties on, and I've got my boxers," Keith said. Neither of those were true, and Susan was sure Mom would realize that any moment, particularly with the writing on her chest. She had to know, nobody could be that naive. "It was just a hot night, is all." Damn right it was, a part of her mind joked, gallows humor they called it, because it was all about to be over, and forever.
"It was all my fault," she said, ready to explain about the marker.
Keith interrupted her, "It's no big deal, Mom, it was hot, so she took her shirt off. It's not like I'd ever do anything to her."
"I know," Mom said, and to Susan's surprise, she seemed completely sincere. "I have complete faith in you, but it's still not appropriate for her."
"She doesn't even have boobs, so what's the big deal?" Keith pointed out. "Might as well let her go topless if she wants."
Mom she looked right at Susan's chest. That was it, Susan decided. The game was up. If by some miracle she hadn't noticed the words yet, she had to see them now. Instead, Mom simply said, "I suppose that does make sense. If there's nothing there yet."
"Right. Now, don't you have work today?" Mom nodded. "So you'd better get ready, don't want to be late."
"All right. But Susan... try not to bother your brother in the middle of the night. You're too old to be climbing into somebody's bed because of nightmares."
"Yes, ma'am," she said. She meant to say Mom, but when she was terrified of getting in trouble she sometimes said ma'am instead. And it sometimes seemed to mollify Mom. Whether that happened in this case, or not, it was the end of it, she turned around and left the room.
Susan gaped, mouth open, and turned to her brother, who was grinning. "What... the... fuck," she asked, after she was sure Mom was down the hall.
He cracked up at her suddenly swearing, and slid out of bed, out from under the cover, exposing his naked ass to her and stretching in the early morning light. It was far earlier than they'd normally wake up on a summer morning, but after the scare they had, there seemed to be little point in trying to go back to sleep, Susan's heart was still pounding and she was sure her brother's was as well. He sounded calm, though. "We should probably get dressed... and after last night, I'm in the mood for breakfast. I wonder what I can make now."
"But how?" He wouldn't answer her questions, he just threw on some boxers and headed downstairs. Susan took longer, she not only got dressed in her clothes from the night before to leave Keith's room, but also went to her room to get new clothes, and stopped to take a shower. She was afraid the smell of sex would give them away... even if they got lucky with Mom. Maybe she didn't have her contact lenses in, and Keith's room smelled bad all the time. But downstairs, in the kitchen, surely they'd notice her smelling like cum.
When she came down, Keith was making something with eggs on the stove, and Mom sat with a coffee and toast, reading the news on her phone. She looked up and nodded at Susan, and then returned to reading.
"Good morning, honey," Dad said, as he brushed in behind her, kissed her on the top of the head. He grabbed a mug and poured himself a coffee too. "You know I normally don't eat breakfast, but damn that smells good, Keith... you're making me reconsider."
"Sorry, this is all for me, don't want you to get used to it, me cooking for you." Dad snorted, then took a sip of his coffee, and took it into the living room.
"Any plans for today?" Mom asked.
Keith shrugged. "Oh, you know me, I'm sure I'll find something to do." He stared at Susan and grinned. She didn't say anything, just watched as he continued to cook, making an impressive omelet with shredded cheese, tomatoes, and peppers. When he was done, he slid it onto a plate, then turned off the stove and sat down right next to Mom. He was still wearing only his boxers, and now turned the shoulder that had "good cook" written on it right in her direction, and pointed at it. "Hey, Mom, my shoulder's kind of itchy here, do you see any redness or anything unusual?"
She stared at it. "No, looks normal to me, but if you think it's a rash or something, we should get it looked at. Do you want to go to the dermatologist?"
He shook his head. "Nah, I'm sure it's nothing. Just wanted an opinion."
She swallowed some toast and went back to her reading, and Keith and Susan had a silent conversation, with him bobbing his head towards Mom and grinning like he was saying, "See? See how I handled it?" Susan mouthed, but didn't say, "How?" And he held up a finger as though to answer, "In a minute."
Mom's phone rang, and she looked at the screen, then stood up, pressed it to her ear, and said, "Hello. No. No, I'm just about to head in. You want me to pick up what?" The rest of the conversation faded as she left the kitchen and took it out in the downstairs bathroom, as she often did by reflex in a house with two frequently loud kids.
Now they were alone in the kitchen, and so Susan whispered, "What did you do?"
"Well, you know they were conked out last night, right?" She nodded. "You think I was going to waste that opportunity without writing on them?"
Of course. "What did you write?"
He held up three fingers. "One, 'Deep Sleeper.' So we don't have to worry about them waking up in the middle of the night even if we're making noise. Two, 'Doesn't Notice Magic Marker Writing.'" He grinned at that one. 'They won't even know they were written on... or that you were."
Susan smiled weakly. She had to admit it was kind of brilliant, and it would solve their problem at least until the marks faded on their own. "And three?"
"'Has complete faith in her son.' Or 'his son', for Dad." He cut up some of the omelet and ate a bite triumphantly. "Did you like how I talked my way out of things this morning? She believed every word. We're totally set."
"Isn't that a little..."
"Genius? I know." She was going to say 'creepy,' actually. It was like mind control. But then, what Keith had written on her was sort of like mind control too. "Why, I bet we could get away with something right under their noses." One hand disappeared under the table, and she leaned back to look. He'd worked his dick out, not over the top, but so it was poking through the little flap in front of the boxers. "How about a blowjob, little cocksucker?"
"They're right outside."
"And they have total faith in me. So if I tell them you tried to give me a blowjob, they'll believe me. Would you rather they think you're a slut for doing nothing, or would you rather be a slut and they don't know anything?"
She sighed, and got on her knees under the table, slid on the floor until she got between his legs, and took his penis in her mouth, working her tongue as a good cock sucker did. There really was not much chance of her saying no, but she really didn't want to get caught. So she did her best to get it over with quickly. Above her head, she heard the clink of silverware against plates as he continued eating his breakfast while receiving oral sex. "Mmm, mm, good," he said, and she couldn't tell if he was referring to the blowjob or the eggs. If it was the eggs, she thought that was kind of egotistical since he made them himself, even with the help of magic.
He started cumming then, and she knew it a second before he did, because he thumped his hand against the table. But it started at the worst possible time, before the first shot came out, her Dad said, "Where's your sister?"
Keith spoke in a strained voice. "She's... uh... having her breakfast under the table." His cock slipped out of her mouth and a blast of cum caught her on the face. Trying to chase it, she missed, and got another blast on her, before she finally caught it and started suckling. "What a freak, huh?"
Dad's feet appeared right beside her. "Susan, why are you eating your breakfast under the table?"
Keith's cock had stopped spewing after only two squirts, the biggest of which went on her face, and he was trying to pull it away, so she found the strength of will to let it out of her mouth. He hurriedly stuffed it back in his pants. "I don't know," she said, and stuck her tongue out as far as she could, wiping it around her face as much as possible. The tongue ran into a little bit of cum on its journey, and then her father bent down, grabbed her hand, and pulled her out of cover.
"What's that on your face?" he asked. Her heart started thumping in high-gear again... Keith had gotten too cocky, and she hadn't gotten all the cum, and he'd seen it, and he had to know what it was, just the smell alone...
"It's icing, from her toaster strudel," Keith said. "Wow, Susan, you really eat like a pig."
Susan just stared, and watched as Dad's eyes seemed to glaze over, and all suspicion fled his face. "Oh, okay. For a second it looked... well, never mind. Go wash your face." He patted her shoulder, and put his empty coffee mug in the sink.
On the way to the bathroom, she passed her mother, but she kept her face down so she wouldn't notice the cum on her face, and went to the mirror to see how bad it was.
It was pretty bad, although it did look surprisingly like icing, the kind that had gotten all melty and translucent and then dried a little. She wiped it off her face with her fingers and licked them clean, then washed with soap so there were no remnants, and got out just in time to wish her mother and father a good day at work.
"Whew, that was close," she said, after they left.
Her brother seemed unconcerned. "I told you. They have total faith in me."
"That doesn't mean we should take stupid risks and rub it in their faces. Who knows what they'll remember after the week's over?"
"The markings, they only last a week, remember?"
"So? I can always mark them again."
"Yeah, but you're not going to be a jerk next week." His smirk faded, and he just stared, blinking at her for a few seconds. "I'm your fuck toy... until that mark goes away, and I'll be a good fuck toy, I'll make you happy, I won't fight you, you can have sex with me whenever you want, do anything you want to me..." She took a deep breath. It sounded like total surrender, but it was a relief, actually. She could do a week like that, she thought once again. It would be fun, like a vacation from herself. And after... they'd see, maybe she'd surrender again, once she knew she was giving herself to somebody who wasn't a jerk, wasn't going to do anything that would hurt her. "Just let's keep Mom and Dad out of it, okay?"
"Jesus," he said. "Somebody sounds like she needs a cock in her ass."
She squirmed in anticipation. Well, she said she'd be a good fuck toy. "Yes, please."
He did her in the bathroom, on the toilet, he sat on the closed lid and she lowered herself down, forcing it in her ass, and rode it, leaning back into his chest, until he came inside her and made her cum as well. After, he stood with his cock still in her ass, holding her to him, and then let her go. "Now entertain yourself for a while, I want to do some art."
Susan pouted at that... ever since he'd given himself the 'low refractory period', it seemed like it had done her no good, he could fuck her as often as he wanted, but he just didn't want to, and when he didn't want to fuck her, often she was nothing more than an afterthought or inconvenience to him. It was maddening... sometimes she thought he was in love with her, and sometimes she thought he didn't care at all. If only she knew how he really felt, she could decide how she should feel. Maybe it was just his jerkiness making him act weird...
She didn't argue, though. She let him go, then sat on the toilet, this time in the normal way, figuring since she was already there, she might as well use it. She still hadn't crossed the line where she fed her sperm addiction with cum from her ass, which seemed impossibly icky to her, and she'd just fed on some instead of breakfast, so she just sat on the toilet and let the cum dribble out of her ass, where it wouldn't make a mess. She told herself, repeatedly, "One week. I can do one week."
But she couldn't go more than a few hours without being super horny again, and that the next time she couldn't hold off any longer, she went to his room again. His door was open this time, and peeking in, she could see him dressed, just a t-shirt and jeans, and sitting at his drawing desk. So she tiptoed in and looked at him work over his shoulder. He wasn't using the magic marker... he'd gotten the impression he was hiding it from her. She hadn't seen it since she the last time he wrote on her.
With the marker he was using, his hand moved swiftly, completely confident, never a line out of place, like he mapped out the whole page in his head and it was just a matter of laying them in place. And once again, she was sure the girl that was gradually coming to shape on the page was her... more so, because the page he was drawing at that moment showed the short-haired girl with a marker up her ass, and, on one butt-cheek, you could read "Loves Anal Stuff."
"You're... making a comic out of yesterday?"
He twitched at her sudden noise, but didn't turn. "It does seem like the perfect kind of story for a hentai manga. What do you think?"
"It... looks really good. Really good. But... don't you want to keep it private?"
"Nobody's going to know it's real... so I might as well share it with the world. And it feels good to get it out there. Don't you ever do that?"
"I guess. The first rule is 'write what you know.'"
"Exactly. This might just be my masterpiece." He turned, put down the pen, and looked at her. Like she'd done before, she got naked before coming to his room. "And it looks like we're ready for the next chapter."
"I'm super horny."
He capped the marker he was using and ran the stiff pen through the folds of her crack. It came back glistening. "You sure are. On the bed."
She hopped onto his bed, ready once again to be felt or fucked, however he desired, and this time lay on her back in the hopes they could do it face to face, that he might decide once again to kiss her. But she feared that he might not do that very often, at least not while he was still a jerk, it was too romantic. He took off his shirt, and she saw the word there on his chest, as it usually was, her handwriting. It only takes one word to start a story, and that was the one that started it all... but it would only last a week. Six days, maybe. Six days, and that word would be gone, and a new story could begin.
He stepped towards her, and reached out his left hand for her to take it... so he didn't want to do it face-to-face this time. That was okay, too, every position they tried had been fun, and she was his fuck toy to put in any position he wanted. Ready for him to guide her, she reached for his hand in return... until she saw the black marks in the palm. He'd written something there... and her heart sank. "What... why did you write that?"
"Oh, this?" He turned his hand to his face, smiled, and turned it back to her. The word "JERK" stood out at her, in his own writing. "I just figured this would be a better spot for it. So I can fill it back in when it starts to fade."
"But... then you'll always be..."
"A jerk? That's sort of the point. Why would I want to go back to the way I was? I'm having much more fun now. Now give me your hands." She did, but they were trembling with his new information. His hand whipped out and grabbed her wrist, then pulled her to him, and then spun her around, pinning one arm to her own back. He grabbed her other arm, and then she felt something, something metal that he'd pulled from his pocket with a jingle. It snapped shut around one wrist, then the other, and she realized what it was. Handcuffs. And she was locked in them, arms behind her back, powerless. "I found these in Mom and Dad's drawers... how do you feel about bondage, Susan?"
"Bondage?" she repeated. That was what that Fifty Shades book was about. She never understood how somebody could like that... but in some ways, wasn't she already in bondage?
"Yeah. I'm not sure it's my thing, but I won't know until I try, right?" He tugged at the cuffs, and she tried to pull them apart, failing miserably. "So let's try it." He pushed her on the bed and, unable to use her hands to right herself, her face remained where it landed in the mattress, until she managed to, with a few laborious movements, roll over on her shoulder and look back at him. In her brother's hands were another set of cuffs.
Two thoughts struck her, then... the first was that she really needed to find the magic marker. One week she was sure she could do, even with handcuffs... but if her brother planned on keeping this going forever... she needed to find the marker, and choose the right words that would let her undo this.
The second wasn't a plan, but a fear. Keith now had the word 'jerk' written on him in two different places.
Did that make him twice the jerk he was before?
She hoped not. But she had a feeling she was going to find out.
End of Book One
Jump to Magic Marker, Book Two: Indelible: Life as her brother's fuck toy is a mixed blessing for Susan... it sure is a lot of fun, but he's just so irresponsible, always pushing boundaries, both hers, and those of the magic marker that makes whatever is written with it come true. The marks on her may only last a week, but a week is a long time, and some of the changes her brother makes... they might just be indelible.
This story is free to share and distribute so long as no money is charged.
Art: As stated, this story was inspired by a piece by Danaume, and she deserves all of the credit for the basic idea. You can see the picture , so it serves as something of a teaser or spoiler.
After she got the first sneak peek at my story, she drew .
These links go to drawn art of underage fictional characters, which may be illegal in your jurisdiction. Click at your own discretion. Pixiv account may be required.
And if you liked this story, please provide feedback (through Formspring, which works better than ASSTR but is still a bit buggy - if you see something about a confirmation e-mail try again in a few hours, I won't have seen your message):
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